Falling into Certainty

Find Me Whole

2012-01-11T21:39:00.001-05:00

Frederick Buechner is one my favorite writers. I'm reading his latest book (written/compiled at the ripe old age of 80), The Yellow Leaves. It's really less a book and more just a collection of remembrances and unfinished thoughts.

Chapter Five is titled "Fathers and Teachers." It opens with a story about the first funeral he ever presided over - a former French teacher of his from Lawrenceville named George Rice Woods. With each page he introduces someone new. Rod Emory from East Paris, Maine - a history professor. Tom Johnson, the chairman of the English department. All people with whom he crossed paths. All people who impacted him and left him changed. Better.

The chapter ends with Allan Vanderhoef Heely, school headmaster. Buechner's description of him deserves repeating.

Allan Vanderhoef Heely, the headmaster, was in his forties when I first met him. He was the most articulate man I have ever known and in many ways the most elegant. Whether he was delivering a baccalaureate address or making conversation at a dinner party or discussing life with a small boy at a baseball game, he always spoke in sentences. He loved words, loved especially discovering new ones—I remember to this day the pleasure it gave him to introduce me to “abdominous”—and used them with skill and verve but always for the purpose of saying precisely what he meant rather than just for effect ...

[He] did not let himself be known easily, but somehow or other he managed to have all of himself present in everything I ever heard him say or saw him do. You always came upon him whole, and when he gave you his attention, the gift was complete ... No matter how briefly you saw him, he left you with the feeling that you had genuinely met.

While reading his descriptions, I could picture each person so clearly (which, I guess, is a sign of good writing). When I read his account of Allan, not only could I picture him, but I wanted to be like him. I think I have moments when I'm fully present. Moments when others come upon me whole. Moments when my attention is freely and wholly given. But they are fleeting at best.

Not only do I, personally, want to be like this ... but also corporately. As a community of faith. I wonder what that would look like. Something tells me it would be good.

Thanksgiving and Where's Waldo

2011-11-22T16:26:00.007-05:00

Work stress. Marital tensions. Car repairs. Strained friendships. Financial worries. I could go on. But you get the point.

It's Thanksgiving, but sometimes it seems that finding reasons to be thankful is like a giant game of "Where's Waldo." They're impossible to find.

About a week ago, Rachel sat a piece of paper in front of me with a thanksgiving meditation written on it. The title read, "Thanksgiving. A time to remember and be grateful."

How trite, I thought. Despite my misgivings, I kept reading. And I'm really glad that I did. Take 5 minutes and read through the following meditation. These Exodus themed prompts will help you find Waldo. Enjoy.

Look over the past year with Exodus Eyes - the eyes of someone who is always "on the way." For what can you give thanks?For what can you give thanks?
an Egypt situation of unfreedom that you have been able to leave behind.
a burning bush moment when your faith was affirmed and your work renewed.
a parting of the sea time when you made it through difficulties and challenges
comapnions who helped you through wilderness times of doubt and confusion.
manna and quail that sustained your desert hunger and nourished you.
your fire and cloud - when the steady fidelity of another assured you of God's nearness
Prayer: "Wondrous Worker of Wonders; I praise You; Not alone for what has been; or for what is; but for what is yet to be, for you are gracious beyond all telling of it."

Awake

2011-11-02T16:34:00.012-04:00

One man wakes; awakens another;

It's the first line from the opening song on Leeland's new album, The Great Awakening. But it's also kind of my story. I blame Andrew Norden (and a few other conspirators). I'm not sure who he blames. But something awoke him to the possibility that faith was bigger than a prayer; bigger than ascribing to a set of beliefs; that it could become a way of living; that it could change the world and bring justice and hope; and that belief alone was far too small (and not at all what Jesus asks). Through our friendship, I awoke too.

Second one awakes his next door brother;

That's the next line of the song. It might be presumptuous (or boastful) to list a name or names of next door brothers that I've helped awaken. But that's certainly what I'm trying to do; to step into a real, earthy, Spirit-dependent, living (and occasionally messy) faith that aims to look increasingly like Jesus … and to awaken a next door brother (or sister) in the process. As this happens, a Kingdom momentum is set in motion.

Three awake can rouse a town; and turn the whole place upside-down;

Recently, I read an article that offered a beautiful description of what this might look like – to turn the whole place upside-down. “The revolution, the real revolution, the revolution that will move beyond a cultural evangelicalism, the revolution of the Spirit, where lives, towns and villages are changed, this revolution will not be televised. It will happen low, on the ground, beneath the lights, in the daily cultivation of life in the Kingdom.” I love that phrase. The daily cultivation of life in the Kingdom. The song ends with these words:

One man wakes with dawn in his eyes; Surely then it multiplies.

If you want to be a part of the low, on the ground, beneath the lights, daily cultivation of life in the Kingdom (oh, how I want to be a part of this), here's is my encouragement: Keep dawn in your eyes, and keep company with someone else who is awake. (By the way, these two things actually go hand-in-hand.)

Surely then it multiplies.

True or False with Meg

2011-10-31T21:18:00.003-04:00

Part of parenting – especially for dads – is being a pest. A good-natured pest, of course, but a pest none the less.

Today, Megan and I had some running around to do after dropping off Kyra for her mini-discipleship-group. (Thanks, Rebecca! She loved it!) Megan is a bit like a puppy. She needs constant stimulation or she gets bored and starts to chew on things. Well, not exactly. But she does get bored. And normally when this happens, she just complains about it. But today was different. We were on I-40 headed back to Raleigh when she turned to me and said:

Meg: I have an idea. Let's play true or false! I'll say different things and you can tell me if they're true or false. OK?

Dad: OK

Meg: Cool. OK. Number one.

Dad: True.

Meg: (slight confusion) wait … what?

Dad: True.

Meg: What's true?

Dad: This is question number one. That is true.

Meg: Well, yes. It is … but I haven't started yet.

Dad: True.

Meg: No. Dad, you're not doing it right. You have to wait until I make a statement.

Dad: False.

Meg: What?

Dad: False. I don't have to wait.

Meg: (laughing) Well, yes. That's true, but you should wait.

Dad: True. How am I doing?

Meg: How are you doing? I don't … what do you mean?

Dad: I mean, how many have I gotten right?

Meg: (laughing) all of them, I guess. (laughing harder)

Dad: True.

Meg: No. Dad, I still haven't started yet.

Dad: Also true. [pause] When do I win?

Meg: (laughing) OK. We're going to start now.

Dad: False. I already started like 2 minutes ago.

This went on for a good 5 or 6 minutes … by the end of which, we were both laughing quite hysterically.

Ahhh … these are the dad moments I love the most. Love you, Meg. Thanks for letting me be your pest.

Farewell, Pippin

2011-10-17T16:23:00.005-04:00

Pippin: circa 2007 — October 17, 2011

It's a sad day in the Mulder household. Our much beloved rat, Pippin, met his end.

He joined our family as a pseudo practical joke from Uncle Vinny, but he quickly became the world's most beloved rat. You'd be shocked and amazed at how affectionate a rat can be.

The girls loved him, and both cried when I broke the news to them after school. He's buried behind the trampoline. In tears, Megan gathered a few honeysuckle flowers and black-eyed susans to put on his grave.

Pippin - you were a good rat.

Deaths

2011-10-06T19:40:00.019-04:00

On Saturday, while fumbling through the FM dial in search of a radio-feed of the NC State football game, I heard a song by The Band Perry called “If I Die Young.”

Nice song. Great harmonies. Good writing. Fun instrumentation. (I’m a recent convert to mandolin. The world would be a happier place with more mandolin. Just sayin’.) You can listen to it here.

The last verse says:

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'

Henry David Thoreau. Edgar Allen Poe. Emily Dickinson. Vincent van Gogh. All great examples of what The Band Perry is describing. When they're quoted or mentioned, we all take note. They’ve all risen to great fame and notoriety post-mortem.

But it’s not only true of dead people (Insert “The Sixth Sense” movie joke/allusion
here _____.)

Every now and then, we come across someone who has “died” but is still very much alive. You know them when you see them. They are that rare person who is truly comfortable in their own skin. One who has discovered how to live un-self-considered - freed from the terrible burden of being the center of their world. They are so few-and-far-between, they almost always catch us off-guard. We’re enchanted. Something inside of them is so vibrant and alive … it calls to us and awakens within us hopes that we didn’t know we held. Or, perhaps, hopes that we didn’t know held us.

We’re struck by how these men and women are somehow immune to the voices of culture screaming out “Climb the ladder! Be thin! Chase after wealth! Wear this! Pursue beauty!” … voices we can’t seem to silence. When we find these people, we’re inspired to be better sons and daughters, friends and neighbors, husbands and wives — better people.

And we start listenin’ because it’s hard not to listen to a dead person.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In part, this is one of the effects of discipleship. As the character and person of Christ is formed in us, we too become less self-considered and Paul’s words in Galatians 5:24 become increasingly true.

“Among those who belong to Christ, everything connected with getting our own way and mindlessly responding to what everyone else calls necessities is killed off for good — crucified.” Gal 5:24 (The Message)

Being Sexy is Exhausting!

2011-09-28T19:41:00.009-04:00

If you know me, this blog title may strike you as a bit strange. Sex appeal has never been a super high priority of mine … at least not on the exterior. Although, I did go through a brief college phase where I spent an inordinate amount of time at the gym and, consequently, in front of mirrors. Fortunately, that was in the pre-cell-phone-camera and pre-Facebook days or I'd probably have 100s of those vain little bathroom-mirror-self-portraits littering my profile pics. Rachel hears stories about the once-buff version of Curtis, and I think at times, she quietly pines for a re-emergence. But that has long since faded into the past.

When it comes to faith, however, it's a different story. Sex appeal has been a driving force for almost all of my vocational Christian life. I've tried it two different ways. And I'm learning (the hard way) that neither of them work … because being sexy is just exhausting.

First – the sexy Sunday. Don't get me wrong. I think Sundays should be fantastic! They should move and inspire and challenge and run the full-gamut of emotions. But often this desire gets off course and distorted … and Sunday becomes something it shouldn't. The weekend service becomes our end instead of a means. It makes me think a little of Dallas Willard's great piece on Vision, Intention, and Means. In the Christian faith, the only vision that will truly create the intention to pursue the means of discipleship is to hold up a true, compelling, beautiful vision of Christ. But it's so easy for churches to slip into holding up Sunday instead. And the moment this happens, the slow exhausting death of staying sexy begins … because propping up Sundays is relentless and exhausting. (An important side note: Jesus holds himself up.)

Second – the sexy midweek. In a Kiva, charity:water, TOMS world … this is a very sexy alternative to option one. My daughter, Kyra, is in the Key Club at her high school. Being from Canada, I had never heard of a Key Club before. It's basically a service club. They find ways to serve others and give of themselves. It includes volunteering at shelters and visiting retirement homes and participating in human-trafficking walks and much, much more. These things are awesome! I love that Kyra has the opportunity to do this!

Again, don't get me wrong. Servanthood is key!! Christians should be marked by it! I have a KIVA account, wear TOMS, just adopted a dog from a rescue shelter, and I have friends in a band benefitting charity:water. But service isn't supposed to lead our faith. It can't. And here's why.

Service is a faith by-product. It is a characteristic of discipleship. It's not the start; it's a result.

Here's what I feel / sense / believe that God is teaching me. Sexy doesn't work. Plain and simple. And it isn't supposed to. In fact, all attempts we make to sell a sexy version of Christianity undercuts the gospel. We're selling a lie. I heard an interview conducted by Bill Hybels where he was interviewing Eugene Peterson. They began talking about how we invite people to faith / salvation. Eugene said (I'm paraphrasing because I can't find the original podcast), “We need to change our invitation. It needs to be short and brutal. It will cost you everything. The invitation must start and end with the real cost of discipleship.”

Discipleship isn't sexy. Not at all. It's hard. And it lives and flourishes only in cultures and relationships of accountability. But when it happens? Oh, the beauty!

Moment of transparency. It's hard to let go of sexy.

Hurt

2011-09-08T09:29:00.011-04:00

There seems to be an inordinate amount of pain and hurt these days. Pain from self-destructive choices. Pain from the destructive choices of those we love. Relational hurt. Emotional hurt. Church hurt. Not to mention all of the financial stresses pressing in around us.

There is a story in John 11 about deep pain and sorrow. Mary – the one who had poured expensive perfume on Jesus feet – and her sister, Martha, had lost their brother, Lazarus.

"Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died. ²²But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask."

²³Jesus told her, "Your brother will rise again."

²⁴"Yes," Martha said, "he will rise when everyone else rises, at the last day." …

³³When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled. ³⁴"Where have you put him?" he asked them. They told him, "Lord, come and see." ³⁵Jesus wept.

As an annual Ross Haven Bible Camp scripture-verse-memorization champion, John 11:35 was always a favorite. Just two words. Jesus wept. As simple and short as this verse is, it carries with it a profound truth.

Jesus has the strength and ability to heal and wholly redeem this situation. In fact, He has plans to reverse this current pain into the deepest most unexpected-breathtaking-remarkable joy imaginable! And yet He weeps.

His power does not rule out His grief.

He doesn't let His ability to raise the dead keep Him from entering fully into the humanity and sorrow of the moment. He is the resurrection and the life; and He weeps. If you are the one in pain, I hope you'll find some comfort here. This is part of what makes Him so good. And if the pain isn't yours but rests in those around you, be encouraged to follow His example and enter into it. Fully. And even if you have the power to console and ease the pain, part of being Christ-like is to weep first.

We Don’t Need Discipleship

2011-09-02T16:56:00.005-04:00

This may ruffle some feathers.

The early church (30 – 300AD) needed discipleship. In order for the early church to grow, they had to depend upon the quality and character of their lives. That was all they had. There was no other growth engine to rely upon (until, of course, the crusades. But that’s another story.)

And history tells us that they did! By the 4th century (approx. 315AD), Christianity had become such a cultural force that it became politically savvy to adopt it as the official state religion. Which is exactly what Constantine did.

Julian - the last Emperor prior to Rome’s conversion - wrote that “nothing has contributed to the progress of the superstition of these Christians more than their generosity. These impious Galileans care not only for their own poor but for ours as well.” It took about 300 years, but they became a culture-changing force through the character and quality of their faith.

Over the course of the last 40 years or so, we’ve discovered new ways to grow. We’ve learned that we can grow through sound business principles, highly visible locations, great marketing strategies, engaging Sunday gatherings, etc. Alan Hirsch, in his book The Forgotten Ways calls this the “church growth principle” era. This isn’t an argument against these things, but we have found ourselves in a place where we no longer need our lives to be the message.

We don’t need discipleship.

We’ve got other options. But in the midst of these options, I worry that we’ve lost something. And I fear that if our other options were suddenly removed, our lives wouldn't be enough.

Interestingly, during this same 40-yr time-period ruled by church-growth-principles, the church in the west has continued it's long-standing decline and become less of a cultural force. Not more. This week, I read in an article in Relevant Magazine that between 1990 and 2009, 9% fewer people identify themselves as Christian. And nearly 8% more people identify themselves as “no religion.” Clearly something isn’t working.

Maybe I’m being an alarmist, but this all seems broken. Even though we’ve got other options – maybe we should live as though the quality and character of Christ in us was all we had. Yeah - it might take another 300 years, but we might become culture-changers again.

(Agree? Disagree? I'd love to hear your thoughts.)

"Those eggs were a lie, Esqueleto. A LIE!"

2011-08-26T09:41:00.006-04:00

I may need to impose a voluntary moratorium on watching Nacho Libre. And here's why.

So, I'm attempting (again) to follow the life-journal bible reading plan (I use youversion.com to help me keep track). Today's reading included Jeremiah 51, which contains a few words about the uselessness of idols.

"The craftsmen are disgraced by the idols they make, for their carefully shaped works are a fraud. These idols have no breath or power." - Jeremiah 51:17

And in my mind, immediately I heard Nacho saying to Esqueleto:

"Those eggs were a lie, Esqueleto. A LIE! They give me no eagle powers! They give me no nutrients!"

Perhaps it's time for me to find a new favorite comedy. I'm open to suggestions.

Hell's Kitchen and Germ Theory

2011-08-23T19:56:00.007-04:00

So, Rachel and I allow our daughters to watch Hell's Kitchen with us - a cooking competition show on Fox hosted by Gordon Ramsey. Chef Ramsay has a penchant for being foul-mouthed and overly-harsh with the contestants. There is a lot of "bleeped" out dialogue on the show. (NOTE: this is not an endorsement of the show nor is it a recommendation of our parenting choices.)

Last night's episode was the first time I truly had a moment that gave me pause. "My girls don't need to watch this," I thought. The winning team after a successful dinner service was awarded with an all-expense paid overnight stay at an opulent villa in Las Vegas. Their Vegas "host" for their one-day/one-night stay was none other than former Hefner girl, Holly Madison. There she was. Holly Madison. In full HD glory in my living room. Looking about as modest as ... as you would expect her to look.

Megan: (wide-eyed) Who's she?
Mom: Her name is Holly Madison.
Kyra: Why is she famous?
Mom: She's famous ... (pause) for taking her clothes off.

This was followed up with a conversation about modesty, plastic-surgery, and objectifying women.

- - - - - - -

A lot of people would question our decision to let them watch the show. I question it too! But I'm developing a theory. A germ-theory about parenting. Here it is.

We've all heard the medical community encourage parents not to over-protect our children from germs. If things are too clean and over-sanitized, we actually prevent our child's immune systems from forming necessary antibodies to help fight infections, sickness, etc.

Perhaps the same is true socially.

Here's the truth. My daughters are now in junior high and high school. And if my junior high experience is anything like their's, they are already exposed to all of the "crap" of Hell's Kitchen (and more) in real life. Parenthetically, my first Holly Madison-like "exposure" was a ripped-out page from a Playboy that a friend had found in a ditch. I traded a Calvinist Cadet Corps merit-badge for it. I think it was the "Chess" badge. That was 7th grade.

Our children need to develop right ways to think about and process the tough stuff of life. And if there is never an opportunity to process these things and have these conversations inside the home, they are left on their own to make sense of everything. And they likely will not have the "necessary antibodies" in place for that to happen in a healthy way.

Rachel thinks this is why Preacher's Kids have such a bad reputation ... because so many are over-protected and never have a forum for meaningful conversations about the tough stuff of life.

So far, our girls have turned out pretty fabulous. Maybe having a forum for tough conversations is part of the reason why. Again, this is just a theory. Would love to hear your thoughts. And please feel completely free to disagree.

My Mom has superpowers.

2011-08-20T14:09:00.007-04:00

Flash and Quicksilver have the ability to move at speeds much faster than a normal human. Electro has the ability to travel through electrical conduits and enter rooms through devices like TVs and computers. Frozone can reduce the kinetic energy of water in order to create and control ice.

My mom has a forcefield of cleanliness. She can manipulate and transform all forms of filth, dust, grime and clutter into a pristine, "garden-of-Eden" condition. And she does it with the speed of Flash! You don't even see it happen!

I'm convinced. She has superpowers. Apparently her ability also comes with bravery ... as she even cleaned the abyss underneath Megan's bed!!!

On the way home from the airport, I had a phonecall from my brother-in-law, Mark (whose twin daughters turned three yesterday). I told him about my mom and her superhuman abilities. He asked if I could put her on a plane to Portland instead of Canada. I tried. But alas. Airport bureaucratic manipulation is not one of my superhuman powers.

Thanks, mom! Of course, we love you (and Dad) for a million other reasons ... but we appreciate you sharing your superhuman powers with us for the past 10 days. Much love! Until next time.

The Anniversary Gift

2011-08-06T15:29:00.008-04:00

Here are two absolute, unquestionable, indisputable truths.

(A) I'm a horrible gift giver. Truly lame. Ask Rachel.
(B) Rachel's number one love language is gifts!

The combination of these two truths is particularly dangerous at this time of year. It's our anniversary today.

While searching online for gift ideas (refer to truth A ... I need all the help I can get), I stumbled upon this actual, legitimate suggestion.

Several years ago I got this idea from a magazine. Buy a potholder (one with a loop to hang), sew it together crosswise and put in a pair of scissors. This way, they can hang in the kitchen and always know where their scissors were at and it's very decorative. Total cost was about $2.00.

Part of me is tempted. Just to see what might happen. Nothing says Happy 17th anniversary like a potholder-scissors-holder, right?

After all, it is very decorative!

Cheering Up Rachel

2011-07-26T18:19:00.019-04:00

This morning at 7:52am, I was greeted with an email from Rachel with this simple two-word subject line:

well, shoot

... except it didn't say shoot. I guess the old song is true. "Mama said there'd be days like this." Today was one of those days for Rachel. I took it as a challenge. The next ten minutes became Operation Cheering Up Rachel. But there are limitations. She's working at a bank. I can't really call her (unless it's an emergency). My only mode of encouragement? Email.

In fairly rapid succession, I sent her 5 Q&A one-liner jokes :) Here are the jokes (because they are SO GOOD and it would be criminal not to share them).

(Q) What do you call a pig that does Karate?

(A) A pork chop. (Granted. This one is lame. But they get better. Much better.)

(Q) What happens when frogs park illegally?

(A) They get toad.

(Q) What lies on its back, one hundred feet in the air?

(A) A dead centipede.

(Q) What do you get if you cross an elephant and a kangaroo?

(A) Big holes all over Australia!

And finally ...

(Q) How was the Roman Empire split in two?

(A) With a pair of Caesars.

- - - - -

When Rachel finally came home from work, she confessed to being annoyed by the first three ... but when the fourth one hit her inbox, it was mission accomplished. She's a visual-thinker and so, it's not surprising the fourth joke was the one that tipped the scales. She was probably picturing a big giant leaping smiling elephantaroo hopping everywhere! ... and that's enough to turn anyone's day around.

[PS: Megan and I made up this joke a couple days ago ... it is equally AWESOME! (Q) Where do ducks like to go out for dinner? (A) Quacker Barrel.]

Sunday Messy Sunday

2011-07-24T23:23:00.007-04:00

Sometimes Sundays aren't what you expect.

I woke up and started the day feeling a little unsettled. Uneasy. No particular reason. I wrote this in my journal this morning. "God – take this morning. I give it to you. I'm feeling ... a measure of anxiety and fear. Please replace that with hope and trust and faith."

Arrived at church at 9 for setup. Initially, things were going great! Everyone was happy. Light-hearted. Several Nacho Libre jokes. There was joy!

But 5 minutes before the worship service started, everything seemed to unravel. Cables failed. Sound issues kept popping up. Which sort of set off a chain reaction of slightly fumbled moments, clumsy transitions, awkward silences, etc. Basically - nothing went smoothly. Everything was a bit of a struggle. Like me, the service was very "human."

And here's what I learned. It didn't matter.

People still met with God. The worship (despite the technical woes) was real and beautiful and challenging and lifted high Christ. After the service ended, I sat down in the High School lobby with two new people. One had attended once before in March, but this time she brought a friend. We chatted for about 10 or 15 minutes. Not only did they love their experience, but they also strongly resonated with what we're doing and with how we are choosing to be the church. In our conversation (directed by their great questions), they both shared how they loved our reasons for choosing a school (to free up resources to serve others and to create/foster relationships with our community).

And not once did they mention a clumsy transition or awkward silence or "scratchy" speaker signal.

And so - I think what happened today was a gift. A reminder. Great church can be very flawed and human. Maybe it even should be a bit of a mess.

Having said all that ... I sure hope the sound system works next Sunday :-)

Day Four (Swaziland)

2011-06-24T17:09:00.007-04:00

Slept in again. Intentionally this time, though. Kept pressing snooze. Everyone tries to shower before breakfast, which leaves ZERO hot water. Instead, I've been going straight to breakfast at 7am, eating a good breakfast, and then heading back down to the room at 7:30am for a nice, HOT shower. I'm not telling anyone my secret.

We headed to the care point again today. And once again, we were greeted with the beautiful sounds of African children singing their hearts out. What fun!!!

After the initial serenade, we all headed outside to allow the preschool to continue its day. The work projects for today were: painting the playground, re-painting the care point bathroom, and tilling / amending a patch of ground (about 4' x 8' feet) for another vegetable garden. I helped with the garden. The soil here (at least during the dry season) is incredibly tough and concrete-like. About 3 or 4 of us guys would take turns with a pick ax. The girls came behind us with shovels and rakes to further break-down the large pieces of hardened soil we had broken loose. There was still a fair amount of fine dirt (pseudo sand) left over from the concrete mixing from the day before. We used most of it to help amend the soil for the garden. I hope it works and that things will grow.

I joined the children again today for their meal. The 11am meal (which is just for the pre-schoolers) is mielie (sp?) fortified with some protein and sweetened with a little brown sugar. It wasn't NEARLY as tasty as the rice and beans from yesterday. I could only handle a few mouthfuls before I began looking for a discreet way to dispose of it. I asked Diane (the resident children's cup missionary). She told me to give it to one of the pre-schoolers. Which I did. And he had it finished within about 2 minutes. I think he was nervous about being given a second bowl and thought if he didn't finish it quickly that it might be taken away.

The afternoon was a ton of fun. 7 or 8 of our total team (including the other group from Baton Rouge) left for the afternoon to go and meet their sponsored children. The rest of us stayed and played. But first, we sat down and had lunch together. Kentucky Fried Chicken. I know. CRAZY! KFC in Swaziland! It's the only American fastfood chain around. And apparently it is a hot commodity. It's funny as you drive through Moneni … because KFC billboards account for about 1 in every 10 or 15 billboards that you see. Weird.

I ate fast because I wanted to learn how to make balloon animals (which was going to be my station with the kids). I'm now an expert at making dogs, giraffes and turtles. I like the turtles the best. They're cute. And they also have the longest playground-lifespan. The dogs and giraffes didn't fair to well. It was fun. Sarah Ralston and Jennifer Halsey were face-painting. As they finished and as children made there way outside, they all formed a line to get a balloon animal. Amy (a girl from the other team) helped me out. The kids progressively got more and more assertive in their desire for balloon animals :) It got a little crazy. The teacher had to come and lay down the law. One thing I will say about the Swazi children – they LISTEN to the teacher. When she says anything, they listen immediately, and instructions never need to be given twice.

After the very last balloon was handed out, Don called me over to meet somebody. This is CRAZY. As you know, Swaziland is the last Kingdom of Africa (they still have a throne). Well, today one of the Princes (a son of the king) came to the Moneni Care Point! This has never happened before. Ever! Apparently one of the cooks at the care point (who are all lovely, fat, happy grandmas) was very moved by our presence and called a friend, who in turn called a city official, who in turn called the local chieftain, who in turn called the Prince … and told him that he must visit. I actually have video footage of me conversing and shaking hands with one of the princes of Swaziland. Crazy!!!!

The rest of the afternoon was mostly playing followed by more playing. I kicked many soccer balls. One of the older boys who comes later in the afternoon has developed a bit of a game with me. He sneaks up on me, and then smacks me in the leg or back in hopes of being chased, caught and tickled. Yesterday, the “smacking” was done with a plastic, nerf-style baseball bat. Today, he found one of the dead balloon animals and would 'snap' me with it. He's probably 11 years old … and he's super fast!!! Chasing him down is no easy task. But I always prevailed. I could be wrong, but despite his big contagious smile, he seems to be a bit of an outsider from the other kids. He has a noticeable skin condition on his face and arms … maybe that has something to do with it.

The end of the day at the care point was AWESOME. By this time, the 7 or 8 people who left earlier to meet their sponsored children were back. There had to have been 200+ kids on site. We took a few large group photos and then the teachers helped line them all up at the back entrance of the building. They came in one-by-one and received a pair of flip-flops, mittens, a knitted hat and a blanket. You should have seen their faces and reactions. It was beautiful. That was definitely the most joy-giving moment of the trip so far. I was so proud of our church … and so proud of all the flip-flops we had collected. Despite having an enormous hockey bag filled with them, we were short by about 30 or so. Melissa, Marissa and Jason were truly amazing with the kids. Brian took a picture of EVERY kid as they walked out of the Care Point all decked out in their presents.

The mitts, hats and blankets were all collected by one person. A woman named Patty from Wisconsin (who is also part of this trip). At first, she seems a bit different. A little over eager … perhaps too friendly too soon. Hair somewhat unkempt. But this woman has a heart like few I've seen. Seeing her wrap a blanket around the shoulders of every single child and then draw them in, hug them, give them a kiss on the cheek and say “I love you so much.” I'm getting emotional even typing. It was incredible. Patty lives for others … perhaps more than anyone I've ever met before. This is her third time here. Last year, she brought just over 200 blankets. This year, she collected over 2300 blankets, 500 pairs of mittens and 500 knitted caps. Other care points will, of course, be recipients of the surplus.

Handing out all of these items to the kids took at least an hour. But it felt like just minutes. Such beauty and joy and wonder and smiles. Afterwards, we took some pictures with just the teachers before heading off to our next event – the youth worship service at “The Healing Place Church” in Moneni.

The service was shockingly American. Countdown videos, hype music, kids acting silly. I was persuaded to join a little pre-service circle game of soccer-keep-away. The players forming the circle simply try to keep the ball from the one in the middle. These kids have crazy soccer moves!! I was WAY out of my league. The service started at 6pm with an ice-breaker game where everyone had to meet five NEW people and be able to point them out by name. After 5 minutes of greeting people, the youth pastor came up and called people up at random to see if they could name and point out 5 people. If they couldn't, they had to dance in front of everyone. Yep. Solo dance.

I was truly frightened! Remembering 5 names is INCREDIBLY difficult when you can't pronounce any of them properly. But I had a plan. If he called me, and if I couldn't remember the five names, when the music started and I was to begin dancing, I was going to grab the pastor's hand with one hand, and put my other hand on his hip, and start ball-room dancing.

Thanks be to God, I wasn't called :)

The message was about finances and budgeting – an interesting topic choice for a group of 13 to 21 year olds. But with little parental influence, if they don't hear practical advice about money from the church, they likely won't hear it at all.

The service ended promptly at 7:30. We headed back to the guest house for dinner – pizza and soda. I was SO hungry … and it was SO good!! We all sat around afterwards reliving moments of the day. It was beautiful. And now I'm back in my room :) transferring video footage onto my computer for editing. I can't wait for our church to see the images of our trip.

Much love.

SYTYCD

2011-06-10T11:53:00.009-04:00

Dance is an art form that is beyond my comprehension (and if you've ever seen me dance, you'll know what I'm saying). I only caught the last 30 minutes or so of Thursday's So You Think You Can Dance episode – the top ten guys and the top ten girls were unveiled. Each group performed one piece and then they combined to perform one big piece at the end of the show. Sonya Tayeh choreographed the girls number. It was quite stunning to watch the girls perform nearly flawlessly all decked out in their colorful geisha-like outfits.

About the only dance terms I know are pirouette and plié. I don't think they did any of those. I wish I had the words to describe it … but I don't. And I think that is part of why the show captures my imagination so strongly.

It is a beauty that is foreign to me. It catches me off-guard … unlike American Idol.

I certainly enjoy American Idol, but as a musician, it's an art form that I get. The musical layers and textures and nuances make sense. I recognize when a groove shifts from a straight-time into a shuffle; I notice a iv-minor chord snuck into a progression; I appreciate the complexity of a melodic passage. None of it is foreign to me.

After the episode ended - with dance sequences still playing in my head - images of the church (even our church) started to form. I thought about the contagious Christ-Kingdom revolution we are aiming to live – one that dances, twirls, laughs and loves – a choreography and a beauty that is foreign to much of the world around us.

That must have been what it was like to encounter Jesus. He lived a dance no-one had ever seen before – spilling over with unimaginable wholeness and undreamed of life. Granted, our dance moves may still be simple pirouettes and pliés, but little glimpses of disarming beauty are emerging and people's imaginations (like our host school's administration) are being captured.

So you think you can dance? Just wait until you see His next number.

Bill Hybels, my Mom and Dad, and Swaziland

2011-06-08T13:55:00.016-04:00

Several years ago, at a Leadership Summit event, I heard Pastor Bill Hybels talk about the first time he ever experienced true, real, systemic, cavernous poverty. I don't remember the country he was visiting. And I don't really remember the details of what he saw. But I do remember him saying how it changed him. Permanently.

He shared about how it shattered much of his western thinking and deeply effected his habits, decisions, how he read scripture, church leadership, preaching, and made him more mindful to embrace the full call of following Christ. That is, to be the kind of disciple who is compelled to bring God's future reality into the present (because our world needs it!) He ended his talk with a strongly worded encouragement for any and all church staff to take a trip to an under-resourced nation.

My parents had a similar experience. Several years ago, through their church in Stony Plain, Alberta, Canada, they went on a short term mission trip to Guatemala. They haven't been the same since!

In their early retirement years, they could easily spend their days in ease and comfort, but instead they continue taking small jobs so that they can support their new found addiction of living in Guatemala 3 or 4 months out of every year in order to serve the underpriviliged people they've come to know and love so deeply. By the way – I'm SUPER proud of my parents for this. While I've always loved and admired them (except for maybe a brief rebellious stint in tenth grade), my love and admiration has grown for them exponentially.

Our church's mission trip to Swaziland (June 20-30) will be my first exposure to real need and poverty on a large scale.

I hope it changes me too.

“But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” - Amos 5:24

Uninvited

2011-06-01T07:55:00.006-04:00

I’ve been listening to a lot of Adele lately - a British artist and a current favorite of my daughters. She’s remarkably talented. Incredibly musical. We listen to her almost every day during our commute to school.

The last track is a hauntingly beautiful piano-driven piece called “Someone Like You.” It’s a love song. The chorus always makes me think of Jesus.

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded

That for me it isn't over

If Old Testament scholars are correct, Malachi was the last prophet to hear and speak a word from God. He was the third and final post-exile prophet, and he makes reference to the temple in Jerusalem being rebuilt. This was over 350 years before Christ.

Then, silence.

And out of the blue - uninvited, unheralded and uncelebrated by all except angels, a few shepherds and magi - He appears. He couldn’t stay away. Couldn’t fight it.

At a stoplight on our drive this morning, I had to turn off the music for a moment and tell the girls. “That’s what Jesus did. He couldn’t stay away. He had to show up that we might see His face and be reminded that it isn’t over yet. His love is too big to leave us alone.”

And in a sense - this is still God’s story - showing up uninvited by His Spirit and through His people saying “It isn’t over yet. I’m here, and my love can’t stay away.”

Elf Wisdom

2010-12-13T22:54:00.008-05:00

Last Sunday - after the dust of the morning and afternoon activities had finally settled - Kyra, Megan and I cozied up with some pillows and blankets and settled in to watch Elf. There are not a ton of movies that make me laugh out loud with each repeat viewing ... I mean really laugh. The deep, hearty, belly laughter that you just can’t control. I’m not sure why, but Elf is one of those movies for me. It’s a Christmas movie about a human (“Buddy” played by Will Ferrell), raised by elves who leaves Santa’s workshop and the north pole for New York city to discover his true identity - and his real dad.

While there are a lot of great scenes, this is truly one of my favorites.

Buddy: Wow! What’s this?
Gimble’s Manager: This is the North Pole.
Buddy: No it’s not.
Gimble’s Manager: Yes it is.
Buddy: No it’s not.
Gimble’s Manager: Yes it is.
Buddy: No it isn’t.
Gimble’s Manager: Yes it is.
Buddy: No it isn’t.
Gimble’s Manager: Yes it is.
Buddy: No it’s not. Where’s the snow?

I’ve quoted this little scene probably 15 times (conservatively) in the past 2 days … and I made myself laugh each time. After one of these recitations, I told Rachel how there is just something about the knowing, whimsical and happy confidence in Buddy’s voice that always makes me laugh. To which, she said “A man with an experience is never at the mercy of a man with an argument.” (Yes. That’s actually what she said. She’s so wise.)

It’s so true! I love how no matter how emphatically the Gimble manager insisted the store was the North Pole, Buddy remained joyfully (and almost annoyingly) unflappable. His experience told him otherwise. He’d seen the real North Pole. A man with an experience is never at the mercy of a man with an argument.

[cue transition to deep spiritual insight]

There is some wisdom here. I’m convinced there is something in this silly little scene that needs to impact how we live out our faith - how we endeavor to communicate God’s love. Recently, I was listening to a message by Timothy Keller in which he said “Nobody really learns about God’s love by being told. They learn about His love by being shown.”

An experience offers something that an argument can’t.

This is why - as a church family with Ekklesia - we are doing some crazy things like giving every household in the church $50 to go and show love and to “tell a great story.” And this is why we are doing things like our ongoing dates with the residents of the rescue mission. And this is why we will relentlessly seek out new ways to live out our faith. We're trying to create experiences ... which actually help convince ourselves AND others. I’ve heard it said that nobody has ever entered into faith because they lost an argument. I think this is true. But when a person catches and experiences a glimpse of Christ’s love through us, even their own arguments begin to crumble.

Because an experience is never at the mercy of an argument.

Here’s to being joyfully unflappable.

Falling into Certainty

2010-11-23T11:22:00.005-05:00

There is in an interesting little exchange that happens between Jesus and His disciples in Matthew’s gospel that comes on the heels of the feeding of the 5000. After the miraculous meal - at Jesus’ request - the disciples go on ahead of Jesus and cross the lake in a boat. In the wee hours of the morning, He comes out to them on the water. (Crazy. I know.) At first blush, the disciples think it must be a ghost. (I would have thought the same.) But it isn’t. It’s Jesus - and He calls Peter out of the boat to join him, which Peter does with limited success.

When they climbed back into the boat, the wind stopped. Then the disciples worshiped him. “You really are the Son of God!” they exclaimed. (Matthew 14:32-33)

You really are the Son of God. Such confidence. Such assurance. Or so it appears. But even the presence of such a statement carries with it an implication that leading up to that moment, they were still not entirely convinced. Which makes me wonder - how many times did the disciples actually say this? … or things like it? How many times did they fall in-and-out of certainty about who He was? From John’s gospel, it seems they started making these confident faith claims already at day one. John 2:11 writes “This miraculous sign at Cana in Galilee was the first time Jesus revealed his glory. And his disciples believed in him.” From the beginning of Jesus ministry onward, there is story after story and page after page which show how His disciples keep on falling into certainty … implying, of course, that they were also continually falling out of certainty.

And even this statement late in Matthew’s gospel when Jesus meets them in the middle of the lake and calms the storm and they declare with seemingly unshakable confidence that He really is the Son of God - even this moment wasn’t the end of their doubts.

Just weeks later - starting in the Garden of Gethsemane - doubt wins again and they scatter in fear and defeat. As certain as they were about who He was in the boat, when faced with the cross they became equally convinced that He wasn't. That Jesus was not who they thought He was. That the Messiah hadn’t come. But then Jesus convinces them once more.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I take great comfort in this. Because I, too, fall in-and-out of certainty about who God is, what He is doing, and who He is calling me/us to be and become. And I think God is OK with that. Just as He was still willing to work with the disciples, it appears as though He's still willing to work with me.

On the heels of every great doubt, there arrives yet another great assurance. A story, a prayer, a conversation, an email … all evidences that He is.

Jesus, I’m not stronger than the disciples. Thank you for continually convincing me.

A Fable (an update of our "big date")

2010-09-22T10:09:00.005-04:00

A fable. Once there was a little boy who learned that God loved him and would be his friend. One morning he became very angry with his mother. He pulled his wagon to the kitchen and began to fill it with food. He chose two root beers, a half eaten box of crackers, a cheese stick, a kiwi fruit, and two apple-snacks. “I am leaving,” he told his mother. “I’m going to find God who will be my friend.” His mother wisely let him go, watching him from the upstairs window.

The little boy walked part way down the block to the bus stop and came upon an old woman sitting there. He pulled his wagon up and sat beside her swinging his legs. He looked at the old lady and smiled. She smiled back. The boy got down from his seat on the bench and took a root-beer and handed it to the lady. She smiled a big smile and opened the root beer. He opened one for himself and put the box of cheese crackers between them. Every now and then, he would smile a big smile at the lady and she would smile back. A bus passed and didn’t stop. The boy gave the woman an apple snack. She smiled at him and ate it. Slowly the two made their way through all the food. The little boy sat a while longer and then looked at the old lady and smiled again. She smiled back as he packed up the wagon and started to walk home.

When the little boy got home, his mother asked him “Did you find God, son?” “Yes” he replied “and she sure does smile a lot.”

Meanwhile, the old lady hobbled home to a house that was owned by her daughter and husband. At dinner, they asked her “What did you do today?” “I met God” she said “and He was a lot younger than I had expected.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

My mother-in-law read this story as part of a chapel service at Asbury Theological Seminary. I loved it so much that, this past Sunday, I read it aloud for ekklesia before we headed out on our big date with the residents of the Raleigh Rescue Mission (RRM) ... bowling and burgers at The Alley (an old school bowling alley in downtown Raleigh). The story is a beautiful reminder of the Kingdom potential and possibility that we bring to every moment. We are walking points of Kingdom intersect ... where His presence and His rule and His love break forth.

And on Sunday afternoon, this is exactly what occurred. It was a beautiful gathering of old women on park benches and little boys with wagons all finding and portraying God. My whole being smiled as I watched (and heard) two of our 20-something girls genuinely connect with a 20-something from the RRM, celebrating and laughing about every hit and missed pin. Jesus was there. And the image of one of our moms sitting with a young mom, holding her little baby, talking to her and giving herself fully and wholly to the moment. God was so present in that. Or the picture of one of our men choosing not to bowl, but to sit at a table behind all of the bowlers, just to talk with, watch football, and keep company with a man wearing a Steeler’s cap who was unable to bowl. Jesus was there too. Or hearing a tween-age boy tell his mom, “this is the best day ever!” I secretly hope that the body of Christ causes him to say that a few more times.

Near the gumball machine - the kind where the coins roll down slowly in BIG circles - I overheard a young woman say to another “This is so nice. Who would do this for us?” And I had the chance to tell them with a big, stupid, happy, grin on my face, “We did. Ekklesia. We’re a new church in Raleigh. And I’m so glad that you came and are enjoying the day.”

Apparently some fables come true.

A hot date.

2010-09-01T16:18:00.004-04:00

“To belong to a community is to act as a creator and co-owner of that community. What I consider mine, I will build and nurture.” (Peter Block – Community: The Structure of Belonging)

This quote comes from a book that my mother-in-law gave me when she learned that Rachel and I were going to be planting a church. She told me that I HAD to read it! In a nutshell, the author defines the main task of creating community as providing structures and means to increase the experience of belonging and relatedness. When you look at the life and ministry of Jesus, you quickly realize that He was a master at this. With the exception of the self-righteous, everyone He encountered experienced belonging. Nobody was off limits. The people on the margins become part of the center. Fishermen and tradesmen weren't a distant subset (just a “them”). Rather, they were His fishermen … and He was theirs. The poor weren't the cities' poor, they were His … and He was theirs.

In these early days of Ekklesia, we're striving to do this – to increase the experience of belonging and relatedness – to Christ, to each other, and to the communities and neighborhoods around us.

An example of a fun way we are trying to accomplish this is taking place on Sunday, September 19. Our church community is taking the residents of the Raleigh Rescue Mission (RRM) on a date! We're going out for bowling and pizza. Just the other day, the director of the RRM, Holly, shared how they are “floored!” that we're willing to do this. She tells us that many of the residents have never been bowling before.

Jesus changed the world by pulling people in from the margins and speaking hope, love and grace into their lives through relationship. And I think His great love for the marginalized is in no small part due to his affinity with them. He gave up heaven, put on flesh, laid aside His rights and privileges as the Son of God, was mocked, beaten, lied about, abandoned by even his closest friends, falsely accused, and suffered the death of a criminal. He knows what it feels like to be put on the margins. And so He erased the margins forever by dying (and rising again) for us all!

In a simple way, our event on September 19 is an attempt to remove margins and create belonging. We are trying, as a community, to learn to be “little Christ's” who follow the example of our Savior by loving all in word and in deed. We'll tell you how it goes :-)

(PS - if you know of a bus driver or two who might want to be a part of this, let us know.)

Our First Day

2010-08-03T10:22:00.004-04:00

If you were with us on Sunday morning, this may be a little boring :-) But if you weren't, here's what happened at our first official launch team gathering.

In typical "church" fashion, we started about 10 minutes late with Marissa leading us in singing "Not to us | But to Your Name be the glory." When the song ended, CJ got up for some opening words and, with almost a bit of surprise, said "We just started a church! Five minutes ago!" And we did just start a church!

He assured the parents in attendance that, while we don't yet have a full-fledged children's ministry, "we promise that your children will not be playing frisbee with scissors." Reassuring. His comments ended with a couple scriptures from Matthew related to the Kingdom of Heaven - our topic for the morning.

Marissa led us beautifully in 2 more songs, including Brooke Fraser's "Hosanna" - still one of my favorites. Then I had the privilege to preach the very first message for Ekklesia! One of our goals in these early days of the church is to define some terms - so that when we use words or phrases like discipleship, or the Kingdom of God, or community, that we all have a common understanding of what we are talking about.

This week was part one of the Kingdom of Heaven. We looked at how this phrase is not merely a synonym for heaven. It's a present reality, which is why Matthew 11:12 says "Since the days of John the Baptist until now, the Kingdom of Heaven has been forcefully advancing." Using scriptures from the gospels, we learned together how the Kingdom of Heaven is "the range of God's effective will. The place where what God wants done, gets done" (a phrase we totally stole from John Ortberg. Thanks, John!). I love this definition. It makes sense ... and it so accurately describes how Jesus lived. Wherever he went, the Kingdom of Heaven happened! It is already here! And yes - one day we will see it's full expression when Christ returns. But until then, it continues to forcefully advance through Christ, through us.

After the teaching time, we broke into groups to discuss and generate ideas for how we can reach out to our Raleigh community - how we can best let them know we're here. While not our best idea, marketing our own brand of soda (Ekklesoda) was certainly the most entertaining. Our time ended with Holy Communion.

If I was to try and articulate my favorite thing about the day, more than anything, it might simply be how normal it felt ... as though it was just meant to be.

- - - - - - - -

I had the privilege of being part of a wedding this past weekend, and during the reception on Saturday night, the maid of honor (Jess) offered a toast that caught me off guard. She said "Years from now when you look back on this day, I hope you remember it as the day you loved each other the least."

Years from now when our Ekklesia community looks back on this past Sunday, I hope we remember it as the day we loved God, each other and our neighbor, the least.

First Dates

2010-07-29T15:22:00.003-04:00

Friday, June 11, 1993. It was opening weekend for Jurassic Park (the original). I was a worship intern for Rachel's Dad's church. Some flirting had already started to happen. Rachel had given me a potted cactus as an "office warming" gift to help make my new digs feel more like home. I faxed a thank-you "haiku" (Japanese word poem) to her work. Masterful flirting - but no real bona fide acknowledgement of anything ... yet.

Mostly I was just looking for an excuse to call her. She worked at the World Vision office across the street from Calgary's biggest theatre - a huge 700+ seat single-screen theatre that only plays first-runs. My best friend, Jeff Watt, and I really wanted to see it (Jurassic Park) ... and his little sister wanted to tag along too. Seemed a perfect excuse to call Rachel at work. I could ask her to walk across the street on her lunch break to pick up three tickets for that evening.

I dialed. She picked up. We talked. I was my usual charming and witty self :-) and I asked about the tickets. She agreed to purchase them. Everything went according to plan ... although she told me later that it was totally stupid of me to only ask her to buy 3 tickets.

After we hung up, I thought to myself, "THIS could be our first date. Call her back. Be a man! Carpe diem! Ask her out to the movie!"

I dialed. She picked up. We talked. I was clumsy and tongue-tied. I invited her to the movie. She agreed. And next Friday (August 6) will mark our 16th wedding anniversary. And I love her more and more every year ... and suspect she feels the same :-)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This weekend (August 1) marks a "first date" of a different kind. It will be the first autonomous gathering of our expanding ekklesia (church) launch team. And I have a confession: I feel a little bit like the 21 year-old clumsy-tongue-tied version of myself heading into this "first date" weekend for us. Palms are a little sweaty. Nerves are racing. And yet I can't wait!

With great anticipation.

http://ekklesiaraleigh.org

Christ feeding Christ

2010-07-24T13:10:00.003-04:00

I'm about 30 minutes away from heading out with 20 or so others to provide, prepare and serve dinner at the Raleigh Rescue Mission ... the kind of activity that brings to mind Jesus' words in Matthew 25. "I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave my something to drink." And in the parable, the people respond by saying "When? I have no recollection of feeding you, or giving you something to drink." Jesus answers them by saying "When you have done it to one of the least of these, you've done it unto me."

Which presents an interesting truth. Jesus is somehow mysteriously represented in the lives of those we extend our hand toward. And when we act and live as the hands-and-feet of Christ and extend ourselves to feed the poor, we feed Christ.

Christ feeding Christ.

If Jesus is in the poor and broken and those who are outcasts as Matthew 25 suggests, then it stands to reason that there is part of Jesus that we can never know unless our lives intersect with them. And so - I guess we're not just heading out to the Rescue Mission.

We're heading out to encounter Jesus.

Creatures of Habit

2010-07-16T21:39:00.003-04:00

I almost always sit at the same spot around our kitchen table. I almost always order the same coffee when I go to starbucks. And my morning internet ritual almost never changes (news, facebook, then gmail). We’re all creatures of habit.

Tonight I got to partake in one my favorite habits.

When Rachel and I eat out at Queen of Sheba (Ethiopian restaurant in Chapel Hill), unlike any other restaurant, we linger. We order too much food. We talk and laugh and quite possibly overstay our welcome. I don’t think we’ve ever spent less than 2 hours.

Yep. It may be my favorite habit.

Two-pack

2010-06-23T10:58:00.006-04:00

Backstory: Last Wednesday I met up with Ramsay MacMillan at a gym in Chapel Hill for a free personal training session. 16 years of being in ministry - while GREAT for my soul - has left the rest of me wanting. Well, here at the beach on Monday was just my 3rd day of doing Ramsay's recommended routine. Later that same day while walking out to the beach with Kyra and Megan, here's what happened:

Meg: [out of the corner of her eye, she surreptitiously examines my stomach ... then quickly looks away. A few moments later she steals another glance and looks away. Then after a few more steps she takes a third peak ... but this time I catch her in the act.]

Dad: Megan, are you checking to see if I'm less fat?

Meg: [with a hint of shame] Yes.

Dad: [with a mixture of laughter and disbelief] I've only been exercising for the three days! It takes longer than that!

Meg: [laughing] I know, I know. I'm just ... checking. [pause] You kind of have a two-pack, Dad. It's not a six-pack.

- - - - - - - - -

Thank you, Megan. Your honesty is disarming.

Siren Song

2010-06-19T17:20:00.005-04:00

In 1995, I was fishing alone from a canoe in Hubbles Lake, a typical small central Alberta "kettle" lake. Much to my surprise, instead of a fish I caught a brand new rod-and-reel (and lure) from the bottom of the lake. It was a $250 Diawa spinning rod/reel combination - nicer than I could have afforded. After cleaning it up and replacing one small piece (drag cap), I used it for several years...but this story is about the lure. I had never seen anything like it.

After cleaning it up, I could make out the lettering under the lip - ShalloMac. Though it was still the early days of the internet, I was able to research it and discovered it was a salt-water Striper lure. In central Alberta? Crazy. I concluded the fisherman must have been a moron. After all, he lost a $250 rod-and-reel and he was using a lure intended for a completely different species of fish, not found anywhere near the prairies of Western Canada. Yep. A moron.

Or was he?

I took it out with me the next time I went out to the lake ... and I NEVER caught more Northern Pike with an artificial lure than I did that day...it was CRAZY!!! But, unfortunately, the color pattern of this lure ("baby bass") was no longer in production by Storm Lures. In fact, the lure itself was completely discontinued by 1999. Alas!

I recently told this story to my friend Troy Roberson. He's an AVID fisherman with sport-fishing contacts all over the country. He's a fishing guide on Jordan Lake and even has his own line of fishing lures. He said "Let me make a few phone calls and see what I can turn up."

3 weeks later, he presented me with a bag of 9 brand-new-still-in-the-box ShalloMac Lures! Unfortunately, none of them were in the "baby bass" coloring. BUT he did find the ShalloMac's larger brother (the BigMac) in the correct color pattern. And along with the lures, he gave me the contact info for a guy in Missouri who custom paints crankbaits. Troy promised, "He's the best in the country."

And now! I have my own collection of ShalloMac "baby bass" lures! And I can't WAIT to get into some Northern Pike later this month when we head up to Canada for a vacation. Check out the picture below. The bottom lure is the original BigMac in the "baby bass" color. The top lure is the freshly repainted ShalloMac. Amazing!!

Can't Get Enough

2010-06-09T10:13:00.005-04:00

Most of the people who serve in the kitchen at the Urban Ministries of Durham are men. And most of these men are part of the program Hope-Believe Recovery – an intensive six-month live-in drug and alcohol rehabilitation program for homeless adults. Their faces and hands are a window through which you can see bits and pieces of their pasts. Creased. Hard. Weathered. Stern. Scarred. Whether it was hitting "rock-bottom" or some other change of heart, they're now trying to make a change.

This morning, Winston (head of the kitchen) cranked up his iPod stereo with Barry White "Can't Get Enough of Your Love." This isn't the first time he's done this. And each time, something close to magic happens. These men with pasts that would make sailors blush start singing, tapping a foot, nodding their head in time, washing dishes in rhythm with the song. Occasionally even something akin to dancing ensues as they bring out more serving trays or another container of scrambled eggs or more sticky buns.

Granted, I may be romanticizing this picture a little ... but few sights compete with this unlikely paradox. The harsh exterior created by years of addiction surrendering to the groovin' sounds of classic Barry White. And for a moment, there is no past to overcome. Only the present.

Get your groove on here.

Rework

2010-05-26T14:37:00.004-04:00

I'm reading my first ever non-church leadership book ... which is a bit shameful. It's called ReWork co-authored by the minds behind 37signals - a web-based software design firm. It was recommended to me by my friend Ryan Smith (who works for IBM in Research Triangle Park). Here's how the New York Times describes the book.

Jason Fried and David Hansson follow their own advice in REWORK, laying bare the surprising philosophies at the core of 37signals' success and inspiring us to put them into practice. There's no jargon or filler here just hundreds of brilliantly simple rules for success. Part entrepreneurial handbook for the twenty-first century, part manifesto for anyone wondering how work really works in the modern age, REWORK is required reading for anyone tired of business platitudes.

I'm half way through and am AMAZED at how many parallels I am finding between the philosophies within the book and biblical Kingdom living. Take this great axiom for example.

The easiest, most straightforward way to create a great product or service is to make something you want to use. (ReWork: Chapter "Go" | Section "Scratch your own itch")

This principle translates directly over into faith. A great faith must be something you want to embrace. If you don't want it or if it makes very little difference to your life, good luck trying to convince others to embrace it. The kind of expression of the Christian faith and kingdom life that I want ... it makes a difference both inside and out. It's visible on our faces and our hands. It believes God is for us and for others. It connects our worship of God with life and action for God. It embraces and deeply believes the love of Christ for us and allows that love to change us and flow through us. It speaks into the brokenness inside us and the brokenness around us. And like the faith / life of Jesus, it spills over with hope and pours itself out for others. It helps out a family in crisis. It brings over a meal to friends who just had a baby. It writes a note that speaks hope into the life of someone who just went through a third major surgery. It takes seriously the prophet Amos' words to "let justice roll on like a river" by finding ways battle injustice ... just as Jesus fought against the cultural injustices of his day (race, socio-economic and gender barriers).

Brings to mind Jesus words in Matthew 5 "Let your light shine before men, that they may see your [faith] and praise your Father in heaven." Just as a great product is the best marketing tool, a great faith is the most likely to reproduce and spread and cause others to one day "praise [our] Father in heaven."

With our church plant (Ekklesia) quickly approaching, people often ask what we hope to be. In a nutshell, we want to embrace and live out a great faith (one that we would want) and call others toward the same.

Cicadas and Ketchup Packets

2010-03-23T09:10:00.007-04:00

Nearing the end of Moses' life, he compiled and wrote down all of the instructions that God had given him throughout his leadership over Israel. Hundreds of rules and ordinances, statutes and legislations ... a seemingly endless list of blessings, curses, punishments, and rewards. A sizable volume, no doubt.

He then gave it to the priests, who carried the Ark of the Lord's Covenant, and to the elders of Israel. Then Moses gave them this command: "At the end of every seventh year, the Year of Release, during the Festival of Shelters, you must read this Book of Instruction to all the people of Israel when they assemble before the Lord your God at the place he chooses. Call them all together—men, women, children, and the foreigners living in your towns—so they may hear this Book of Instruction … Do this as long as you live in the land you are crossing the Jordan to occupy." (Deut 31:9-13)

I've heard that certain Cicada bugs only emerge every seven years. I also read something somewhere one time that claimed the human body “regenerates itself” every seven years. Must be true. And I learned recently that fast food condiment packets like ketchup, mustard, mayo and relish are typically given an expiration date of seven years after they're manufactured. (Which reminds me, Rachel, don't throw out the McD's ketchup packets in your glove box. They're still totally fine.)

But to only read the scriptures once every seven years? That seemed crazy to me. But then I read a little bit further and found something even more fascinating.

The Lord said to Moses, "You are about to die and join your ancestors ... So write down the words of this song, and teach it to the people of Israel. Help them learn it, so it may serve as a witness for me against them." (Deut 31:16,19)

And in chapter thirty-two, that's what Moses did. He transcribed God's song. As a musician, I immediately wondered if God sang it to him, or if Moses was allowed to put it to a melody of his own choosing … you know, like "Alice the camel" or "Three blind mice" or the tune from "Gilligan's Island."

Either way, this interaction between Moses and God reminded me afresh of the great and awesome power of music. God's only witness to the people between the seven-year public readings of scripture was a song. Music sticks with us.

After reading this, I was struck anew with the gravity of my current role as a worship leader. And I thought about my good friend Marissa Ackerman who has a clear and unmistakable gift of leading worship. Many of you know that she's leading worship this upcoming Friday night at the Worship Center (7:30pm at 2304 Page Road) and will be recording a live worship CD. I can't wait! We were chatting the other day about her concert and I shared with her this story from Deuteronomy – how God entrusted a song to be His witness in the time between the seven-year public scripture readings. I encouraged her to lead with courage and confidence knowing that God still uses songs to serve as His witness.

And if you're still unconvinced of the power of music to stick with us? Read the lyric below and just try to tell me that you didn't start singing. I won't believe you :-)

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale; a tale of a fateful trip ...

Discipleship

2010-03-16T12:39:00.004-04:00

In addition to some new lessons on community, God is also teaching me some new lessons about discipleship. For a little over a month, I’ve been slowly working my way through Dallas Willard’s book “The Great Omission” … an allusion, of course, to the Great Commission. Willard’s contention is that the discipleship aspect of Christ’s parting command (i.e., “go and make disciples”) has been omitted. The best summary I can give of how this book is reshaping my definition of discipleship takes me to the Sermon on the Mount. The goal of discipleship is not so when someone strikes us on one cheek (Mt 5:39) that we will be able to act mercifully and turn the other cheek. It is not so we will have the willpower to resist taking a lustful glance (Mt 5:28) when the temptation presents itself.

No. The goal of discipleship is to reshape our hearts such that we will become persons of mercy. Discipleship’s aim is to transform the temptation of a lustful stare into eyes attuned to see the inherent value of everyone around us. Simply acting mercifully and displaying will-power are woefully inadequate and are not the intended goal of discipleship. Again, the purpose of discipleship is much deeper. It's aim is that we show mercy because we have become people of mercy. We have taken on the nature of Christ and been transformed into ones who show mercy. Our hearts have been reshaped to respond to all of life’s circumstances with the character and nature of Christ.

To further illustrate this, Willard alludes to the disciple’s response to Jesus in His last days when He told them they would all run away when He was handed over to be crucified. They all verbally resisted saying "No. I'll NEVER run away." "All may depart from you, but not I." Did they mean what they said? Absolutely!! Never in a million years did they want to run away from Jesus. Which begs the question – why did they run? Willpower and the ability to act right in situations can only overcome so much. The hard work of discipleship was still young and unfinished in the hearts of the disciples. And when push came to shove, the current shape of their hearts (fear, anxiety, panic, shock) won over their stated intent.

Plus – acting merciful just sounds exhausting. Being merciful sounds so much more enjoyable – even fulfilling. It almost carries with it the ring of abundant life (John 10:10).

Toothpicks.

2010-03-08T13:58:00.006-05:00

As Rachel's and my future draws near (Ekklesia - Church @ Raleigh), I feel as though God is trying to teach me/us something about what real community looks like. In a thousand different ways, real community is discouraged by our western culture. From advertisers and networks doing their best to keep us prisoners to our flat-screens watching the latest House, Office, Kitchen Nightmares, or fill-in-the-blank – to the growing convenience of online everything. Our pay-at-the-pump, self-check-out, drive-through, attached-garage-so-you-never-see-your-neighbor lifestyle seems hell-bent on keeping us from any sort of real interaction with one another. Some might argue that the arrival of social networking fulfills our need for community. And to a small extent, I might agree. But it's far too easy to cover our warts and flaws through online interaction only. Even our current expression of Western Christianity seems to downplay the need for community. We almost exclusively proclaim a personal salvation, a personal relationship with Christ, and individual forgiveness of sins. It's all about what Christ can do for me.

Chatting with a friend at Panera about this apparent anti-community phenomenon within our faith, we got to thinking that it is no wonder we [Christians] are still so selfish and narcissistic. Our faith reinforces it. And we unintentionally erase the second half of Jesus summary of the law and prophets – to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength AND to love your neighbor as yourself. And if we don't erase it, we at very least diminish it. And all of the “one-another” passages (love one another, bear with one another, confess to one another, etc) get lost in the shadows of our wonderfully glorious private faith.

I saw something this morning that made me think about all of this. Six older gentlemen sitting at Panera. They arrive before I do. And they all leave on cue at 8am. But before 0800 hours, I'm convinced that something like “community” takes place. I've seen them there many times before. One of them always wears the same burnt-orange weathered farm equipment cap. Another wears a Duke cap, and he always talks with a toothpick in his mouth. It's somewhat mesmerizing. Like a mini-conductors baton, nodding up-and-down and side-to-side as stories are shared.

I don't ultimately know what this lesson in community will be … but I do think we all need a guy with a toothpick.

Cats, fish, birds and lambs

2010-03-01T09:14:00.006-05:00

Kyra is fun to watch first thing on weekday mornings. She has a routine that she executes flawlessly. Each day at 6:45am or thereabouts, she comes down the stairs, navigates through the short hallway toward the kitchen, turns right, opens the pantry closet, pulls out the cat food container and puts out two scoops for Satchmo and Holly. After returning the cat food back to the pantry, she makes her way over to Colonel Reverend Doctor Captain Chips (our goldfish) and feeds him 3 flakes of goldfish food. The Colonel greets her open-mouthed at the surface. Then she turns her attention toward Inigo and Trevor - our skittish zebra finches hanging beside the fridge. She lifts the cage door, pulls out the food dish, goes to our back deck and carefully but thoroughly blows off yesterday's collection of empty seed shells and husks before returning it to their cage.

It's been the same routine for over 2 years. It seems to have become part of who she is. There are some mornings where I'm convinced that she is not even fully awake while she does it. I'm a little afraid what may happen when the Colonel finally meets his end and her routine is broken.

This morning, while reading through the Life Journal readings of Numbers 28-29, the repetition of sacrifice was overwhelming. In addition to the daily offerings at the tabernacle (one lamb every morning and another every evening), there are the weekly sabbath offerings of two additional one-year-old male lambs. Add to that the monthly offerings (first of each month) of 2 young bulls, one ram and 7 one-year-old male sheep. Then there are the offerings for the passover, and the festival of harvest, the festival of trumpets, and for the day of atonement, and the multi-day festival of shelters.

Sacrifice was a part of who they were. It was unavoidable. Even without a daily trip to the tabernacle, a shift in wind direction carried with it the fragrant reminder of the cost of their forgiveness and their right-standing with God.

But then Jesus broke their routine. "He sacrificed for their sins once for all when he offered himself." Hebrews 7:27. By one Holy act, He fulfilled every sacrificial requirement - past, present and future. The perfect lamb ended one routine and has replaced it with another. And how I long for the day when this new routine becomes as habitual for us as Kyra feeding cats, a fish and two birds.

The new routine? Love. "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and love your neighbor as yourself." Luke 10:27.

Bohnanza Induced Profanity

2010-02-10T09:03:00.006-05:00

The current favorite game in our household is called Bohnanza. It's a card playing game where you draw cards representing different possible bean crops. Wax beans, soy beans, chili beans, green beans, cocoa beans, etc. Your objective is to trade, plant and harvest as many beans as possible. Some bean cards – like wax beans and chili beans – are plentiful and require that you plant more of them before you can harvest them. You may need 4 cards before you can earn a single gold coin. Other beans – like cocoa beans and garden beans – are scarce and require fewer cards. Two of these rare beans will earn you 2 gold coins.

As you may suspect, we are not a household normally given to profanity. On Monday evening, Rachel, Uncle Vinny and Kyra were playing a highly-spirited round of Bohnanza when Rachel drew a Cocoa Bean card after having just harvested her two other Cocoa Beans rendering this card useless. Had she not harvested them, this would have been a free gold coin. Staring at the now useless Cocoa bean card, she let out a playful but feisty d*#@.

With a bit of a smirk, Krya turned to Rachel and said “You know, mom, profanity is one of the forms of speech that is not protected by the first amendment.” She paused - tilted her head knowingly and continued, “I learned that in my law class today.”

Snap! It's a new era of parenting when your own children can so effectively (and brilliantly) have fun at your expense.

I love my family!

IM-ing with Meg

2010-02-09T08:11:00.006-05:00

8:04 AM Meg: hi dad

me: hi meg

watcha doin?

8:05 AM Meg: how are you

me: I'm good ... just startgin my work day

oops "starting"

Meg: i am doing nothing.and you.....

8:06 AM i am cheeking my email

me: I have lots to do today. I'm working on a video for next Sunday that uses a LOT of pictures from the past few years of our church

you'll be in some of the pictures I bet

8:07 AM Meg: I am soooooo famous

me: yep

you are SOOOO famous

I actually saw a picture of you this morning leading worship

but not up high... instead you were down low on the main floor

Meg: i know. i am not even egzadrating

8:08 AM me: and Ms. Kim was leading too

exaggerating

Meg: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

me: but I like your spelling better

more fun

Meg: me too

me: anyway - gotta go girllove ya LOTS

8:09 AM Meg: love ya lots more

bye!!!!!

me: bye!!! <3 <3 <3

Meg: i email you soon

me: okey-dokey

Meg: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

me: wow! 5 HEARTS!

Meg: 6

me: have a good morning with momma

8:10 AM Meg: you too

see ya

End of IM thread. I should go cheek my email too. I probably have 1000s ... and I am not even egzadrating!

A Cherokee® brand button-down

2010-02-05T09:29:00.005-05:00

Exodus 39:2-5

2 Bezalel made the ephod of finely woven linen and embroidered it with gold and with blue, purple, and scarlet thread.3 He made gold thread by hammering out thin sheets of gold and cutting it into fine strands. With great skill and care, he worked it into the fine linen with the blue, purple, and scarlet thread. 4 The ephod consisted of two pieces, front and back, joined at the shoulders with two shoulder-pieces.5 The decorative sash was made of the same materials: finely woven linen embroidered with gold and with blue, purple, and scarlet thread, just as the Lord had commanded Moses.

The description continues for almost the entire chapter. I usually skip chapters like these. A man can only read so many verses about blue, purple and scarlet thread. But while reading this today, I was prompted to think about the role of a priest - to mediate the divine. A priest represents and shows to the people what his God is really like. They help give flesh and body to their God. Prior to Jesus, a priest was the people's primary connection to and visible representation of God. And if you are representing someOne who is mighty beyond description, majestic, clothed in holiness, "who alone is immortal and who lives in unapproachable light" (1 Tim. 6:16), arrayed in "glorious splendor" (Psalm 145:5) ... you're going to want Bezalel to weave and embroider something breathtaking. A Cherokee® brand button-down from Wal-Mart (or even Billabong jeans from Buckle) simply won't do. Because this is a breathtaking kind of God.

Picture the Israelites as they stepped inside the tabernacle and into the courtyard and observed as the Priest prepared the burnt offering, a whole and perfect lamb, sacrificed in their place for the forgiveness of sins; or as he prepared the grain offering of fine wheat flour, olive oil and incense, baked without yeast and offered as a reminder that God is the giver of blessings and provides good things. The garments themselves reinforced the Otherness of the mystery that was unfolding before them. Bezalel's handiwork reminded the people that something holy was happening. Something bigger than themselves. Something divine.

Fast forward to today. We have now become His priests (1 Peter 2:9). And just as in Old Testament times, we too are called to be adorned gloriously. But not with Bezalel's handiwork. 1 Peter 2:12 says it so well. "Live such good lives among [your neighbors] that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us." It is the Spirit's craftsmanship as he progressively weaves and embroiders within our lives (heart, will and spirit) the quality and character and life of Jesus himself. And just as Peter predicts, the world notices the Otherness of what is happening. That there is Something bigger than what they can see. Something divine.

Palah

2010-02-02T21:30:00.001-05:00

Exodus 33:15-16

Then Moses said, "If you don't personally go with us, don't make us leave this place. How will anyone know that you look favorably on me—on me and on your people—if you don't go with us? For your presence among us sets your people and me apart from all other people on the earth."

These two verses come on the heels of God's pronouncement that Moses will lead the nation Israel into the promised land. It speaks VOLUMES of Moses' character that he refuses the blessing of entering into the promised land unless God travels with them. I suspect that Moses' words were spoken out of life experience. There were creases in his face and callouses on his hands that were forged in seasons both within-and-without of God's presence. Hence his prayer "if you don't personally go with us, don't make us leave this place." He had lived in both circumstances and now knows which he prefers. On my very best days, I may have uttered something similar. But I think for most of my days, I would have marched onward without much pause.

While reading this as part of my Life Journal reading this morning, I wondered what exactly Moses meant by "sets [your people and me] apart." What does it mean to be set apart? Does it mean to separate? To isolate or remove from? To distinguish from? To exalt? Or could it be some combination of these meanings? Not being a Hebrew scholar, I emailed my friend CJ who is still fresh out of seminary with a year of Hebrew under his belt. His response? "My Hebrew is super-rusty right now, so I can't promise any life changing insight! :-)"

And so I turned to the online Hebrew lexicon. It turns out, the Hebrew word is Palah (pronounced: paw-law') and occurs only 7 times. The definitions include, to be distinct, marked out, be separated, be distinguished, to be wonderful, set apart, marvelous.

Obviously, the scholars who worked on translating this text chose their interpretation "sets apart" for good reason. But I found it inspiring and fascinating to know that the same word carries with it the idea of being made wonderful, even marvelous! Yes, indeed. As Moses said, it is His presence that sets us apart and makes us wonderful in a world so desperate for wonder and beauty.

Confession. I've often worked hard (even within my ministry life ... perhaps especially within my ministry life) to be set apart. To give myself a bit of an edge. To be a cut above the rest. And what this text so poignantly reminded me was that I shouldn't aim to be set apart by things of my doing or things generated by my own strength. Rather, it is His presence that I want to be set apart by; to be made marvelous by ... resulting in "abiding peace, a life penetrated throughout by love, faith that sees everything in the light of God's overriding governance for good, hopefulness that stands firm in the most discouraging of circumstances, power to do what is right and withstand the forces of evil." (Dallas Willard, The Great Omission).

Palah. Be made marvelous.

Vanilla Prayers

2010-01-11T14:32:00.003-05:00

I'm not skilled in the kitchen. But one thing that I do make well is fudge brownies. The last time that I made them, we were completely out of vanilla extract, and I didn't realize it until after the butter was melted and the cocoa was mixed in. My girls LOVE any excuse to knock on a neighbors door ... and the embarrassment a grown-up may feel asking a neighbor for a teaspoon of vanilla doesn't even enter their little minds. On their neighborhood grocery trips, they usually start with Ms. Alice across the street, then Ms. Crystal next to her, then back to Ms. Catherine's on our side of the street and if they still haven't found the eggs, or sugar, or vanilla they'll stop at Ms. Ethel's right next door.

They're rarely gone for more than 10 minutes before returning home victorious with the spoils from their trip. (The brownies turned out flawless as usual).

In my Life Journal reading today, I read this:

"Suppose one of you has a friend, and he goes to him at midnight and says, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, because a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I have nothing to set before him.'
"Then the one inside answers, 'Don't bother me. The door is already locked, and my children are with me in bed. I can't get up and give you anything.' I tell you, though he will not get up and give him the bread because he is his friend, yet because of the man's boldness he will get up and give him as much as he needs" - Luke 11:5-8

Instead of seeing a man going to a friend asking for bread for his surprise guests, I saw my girls running across the street and knocking on Ms. Alice's door asking for vanilla because "the butter is already melted." In Jesus' story, he suggests that while the friend may not feel obligated to give the man bread because of their friendship, he will give him the bread regardless because of the man's boldness. And if a friend or neighbor who is under no obligation to us will respond to our request, how much more will God who has purchased our sonship (and daughtership) at an incalculable price hear our plea!

"So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you." Luke 11:9.

A Tiger Dream

2010-01-06T07:58:00.006-05:00

OK. Obviously everyone is very disappointed in Tiger Woods' "transgressions." But apparently I'm not so disappointed that my subconscious wouldn't work him into a storyline in one of my dreams last night.

We were shopping together ... in a department store with very tall aisles. It felt like a really nice Walmart. Just me and Tiger. I made some witty comment to him - letting him know that I think he made a horrible mistake (or series of horrible mistakes) but that I'm still *there* for him. Weird.

As the dream continued, it began to unfold that we were birthday shopping for me. One of the things Tiger was going to buy for me was golf sneakers. They had green treads and no cleats. I sat down on the department store floor to untie my red converse sneakers and try on the new shoes. I always tie them with double knots because the laces are so long and tend to come undone ... so untying them takes a little time. Suddenly Rachel was sitting on the floor with me along with her friend Sarah Ralston. Watching me untie my red sneakers, Sarah says, "Wow. You're good at untying double knots."

Then the dream ended.

... and I am pretty good at untying double knots.

Creation

2009-09-10T11:13:00.005-04:00

So, I'm sitting here in my office continuing preparation for the Advance Academy '09 class that I'll be leading (called Worship Renovation) starting next Wednesday. And let me just call a spade-a-spade and say that this little post is mostly just a shameless plug for the class :-)

Anyways - sitting here thinking about music (and worship, and any artful expression), this is the thought that formed.

When we engage in music and art – this is especially true of instrumentalists and vocalists and painters and dramatists and playwrights and directors but also true of anyone who opens themselves up to experience those artistic expressions – we live into our God-given, God-like ability to create. And we mysteriously step into this partnership with God in continuing to carry on his great creation project and we too create. And there is something supernatural and spiritual and good about this.

And in these moments, I think that God looks upon us and - just as He did at the end of each day in the creation story/poem of Genesis - He says, "It is good."

End of thought. Sign up for the class. End of shameless plug.

Jimmy the Wrench

2009-08-10T09:48:00.003-04:00

So, this morning I read Matthew 5 - the story of Jesus' encounter with Jairus and his daughter. And I was reminded of something I put to paper back in December of 2006. Here it is.

Maybe this is just me. But have you ever noticed how much the Pharisees, teachers of the law, and rulers of the Synagogue resemble a New York Mafia “family”? Just like the mob, they are kind and benevolent to those who give respect, but are less than hospitable whenever anyone stands against their traditions – against the good of the “family.” Jesus definitely falls into the second category. He was a threat. Throughout the New Testament, time and time again you’ll read about Jesus healing and teaching in the synagogue. And in the next paragraph, you find something like “but the Pharisees went out and plotted how they might kill Jesus” (Mt 12:14) or “and they plotted to arrest Jesus in some sly way and kill him” (Mt 26:4).

I can almost picture it. Jesus is teaching and healing in the Synagogue, and there they are. Leaning against the back wall. Tony the Fist, Jimmy the Wrench, Guiseppe the Snitch and Big Al – plotting out their revenge. And just like the mob, once you’re “in” the family, it’s very tough to get out. John 12 tells us “many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not confess their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue.”

This makes the story in Mark 5:21-43 all the more powerful. Jairus is a Synagogue ruler. He’s a member of the “family.” He’s got powerful friends. He always receives the place of honor at banquets and the most important seats at social gatherings. He has influence, status, and political clout. But he also has a daughter who is dying. From the story, it appears as though he waited as long as he dare in hopes that she might recover without Jesus. She is now next to death. He can wait no more. And while it may betray his allegiances, he cannot escape the fact that Jesus is his daughter’s only hope. Nothing else matters now. And so “he fell at [Jesus’] feet and pleaded earnestly with him, ‘My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live.’” That must have taken incredible courage.

She dies before they reach Jairus’ house. (I wonder if Jairus had a moment of regret upon hearing the news that his daughter had died. Did he risk it all for nothing?) But Jesus continues on toward their home. And when He arrives, He takes Jairus’ daughter by the hand and says, “Little girl, I say to you, get up!” And she did! It was all worth it.

For the courage of Jairus. That I would be willing to swallow my foolish pride, lay aside everything I hold dear and throw myself at His feet knowing that He is my only hope.

God in Exile

2009-08-03T12:36:00.005-04:00

Every mental picture that I have of "exile" are ones of totalitarian, cruel, iron-fisted rulers mistreating their subjects, lording it over them - a place rife with abuses and injustices. My daughters just watched Prince of Egypt again last Friday night. The scenes of God's people in forced labor, being whipped, beaten and mistreated. That is my mental picture of exile. It's horrible and torturous. Not a place you want to be.

But Jeremiah 24 (part of my mostly-daily reading) shows another side of exile. In this text, Jeremiah sees a vision of two baskets of figs. One is filled to the top with luscious, full, juicy figs (like the picture). The other with figs too rotten to eat. Personally – not being a huge fig fan – neither basket sounds overly appealing to me. But that’s not the point :-) God reveals to Jeremiah that it is the metaphor of the healthy figs that describe his people in exile in the land of the Babylonians. It is there where God's hand of favor rests. It has left the Holy City. God has moved.

And the rotten figs are the picture of those resisting exile. Those holding on to the once-holy city of Jerusalem - a place now broken by their stone-hard hearts - brought low by their own abuses and injustices. But yet they refuse to leave. They hold on to the words of the temple jester-prophets all crying out "Peace, peace. All is well. God is with us." And all the while God is in exile carving out a new future, a new hope.

It's ironic. The real place of exile is actually Jerusalem ... where they hold on to distant memories, past blessings, broken systems, and to their own self-deception - refusing to see that God has left.

And so – Jeremiah may have a word for you. If you find yourself in a place of exile, fear not. It may not mean you are outside of God's hand. It could, in fact, mean that you are a luscious juicy fig - in the place of God's blessing.

Wise Crackin' Megan

2009-07-29T17:18:00.006-04:00

We went for a family walk this afternoon along the paths in our neighborhood - occasionally stopping to peer into the mostly empty creek for tadpoles, frogs and water-bugs. At one point along our journey, Kyra, Meg and I had a one-legged race to get back to Mom. Kyra won narrowly over me ... and Megan took third place.

In a shining display of fatherly love and compassion, I turned to Meg and said, "I guess that makes you third, the golden TURD."

She glared at me with half-squinted eyes and without missing a beat, said "I oughta sock you in the nose, Hopscotch!"

That's my girl.

Love's Preparation

2009-07-29T10:20:00.002-04:00

Last week, I received an email from a friend of mine who is a Canadian worship leader / song-writer / recording-artist. He's in a season of writing for his next album and wanted to ask vocational worship leaders (like myself) for thoughts on what the church needs to hear.

More and more, the songs that connect strongest with me are ones that effectively connect worship (love on its knees) with mission (love on its feet). Scot McKnight – in a provocative post titled Spiritual Eroticism – traces the arrival of "courtly love" sometime during the medieval age. It was during this era when the emotionally charged high generated by the fantasy of a distant love became more desirable than the love within marriage. “The essence of courtly love” he writes, “was to become intoxicated with love, to fall in love with love. It was to prefer the fire of love over the Beloved and delight in the experience of love over the presence of the Beloved.”

If you know me at all, it probably would not surprise you to hear that I'm very passionate about creating an excellent and engaging worship experience. With this passion, it can be possible to slip into courtly worship. Worship that generates greater love for the experience of worship than it does for the object of our worship. The former love has very little power to transform. But the latter could change the world. The former tends to live out its full expression within the confines of a worship service. But the latter propels us far beyond.

In my email reply, I quoted a review of Leeland's upcoming studio album release. The description excites me:

Leeland's third studio album, Love Is On The Move, is a worshipful expression that continues the band’s mission of calling believers toward an active role in being God’s hands and feet on earth so that His kingdom can continue to press into the world. “Worship, justice and action are not separate,” explains Leeland. “They are united. They work together. When you have an amazing encounter with God and you experience His love during worship, the fruit of that should be your life overflowing with action and love - justice - to the world around you."

Worship is love's preparation to be. Love's preparation to do.

Darrell

2009-07-27T20:43:00.001-04:00

It's been well over a month since I posted anything. It's not that I haven't had anything to say. In fact, I think it's a bit of the opposite. Lots to say ... but much of it is unformed, still being digested. And so - rather than break the blog-silence by stumbling through half-formed thoughts, I want to tell you about my friend Darrell.

He's a facebook friend of mine. At 63 years young, I think he may be my oldest facebook friend. He's not quite an octogenarian - but he's moving in that direction. He's a fly-fishermen and likes to take his grandson to nascar. Currently he serve as district office administrator for NC East District Wesleyan Church (AND I just found out he has his own blog!! Pretty hip for an old guy!). Leading up to District Conference on July 16, Darrell and I were in regular email communication putting together final details for the day's events.

You need to understand - at a district level, he's kind of the number three man in charge - behind only the District Superintendent and the Assistant District Superintendent. They make up the triumvirate of power within the NC East District (triumvirate is a new word I learned in a book by N.T. Wright ... a word I've been itching to use!!)

Well - two days before the conference, I sent him an email with a few questions confirming microphone needs, content for the projectors and balloting details. The first line was supposed to read: Hello Darrell.

But instead it read: Hell Darrell.

Not something you want to say in an email to the district office. Bad form. But at the end of his reply, he wrote:

PS - I love the “Hell Darrell”
God bless
Darrell

Darrell - if you're reading this, you're a good man. I'm honored to be your facebook friend.

Foretastes

2009-06-19T16:39:00.005-04:00

On the second leg of our flight home from San Frasisco (Salt Lake City to Raleigh/Durham) Rachel and I watched Juno – an endearing and quirky movie about a sixteen year-old highschool girl (Juno MacGuff) and her family as they help her journey through a surprise pregnancy and the accompanying adoption. Apparently I was overdue for a good cry. I had an aisle seat – exposing more fully my weepy condition. The guy across the aisle in 26D seemed genuinely concerned. It was a little awkward.

While this film had no intentions of making a statement on faith or beliefs – it had some inspired moments where great love shone through. And if we believe that all men and women are created in the image of God, it isn’t a stretch to believe that sometimes men and women – even those far from faith – express love in a God-like manner seemingly beyond their ability or capacity. This movie had some of those moments. Moments where we can see – albeit faintly – glimpses of a greater love (and perhaps even the Author of this greater love).

There is a scene in the latter stages of the movie where things with the soon-to-be adoptive parents are falling apart. Without giving the story away, the prospective father lets it known he wants out of the marriage … and he does not want the baby. Juno is standing in their house and watches as the hurt flies and everything falls apart.

As she heads home, her thoughts narrate “I never realize how much I like being home unless I’ve been somewhere really different for a while.”

This line hit me hard. And it’s been rolling around in my head ever since Wednesday night’s flight. Like Juno, we too (all of us) have been somewhere really different for a while. And I think – in our most honest moments – we too would admit that we long for home. We thirst for the land of no-mores. No more pain. No more sorrow. No more death. No more heartache. And the longing is heightened by “those moments in our own lives when with only the dullest understanding but with the sharpest longing we have glimpsed Christ” (Frederick Buechner) lived out in others and sometimes even in ourselves.

Foretastes.

But our hope and longing is not just a human hope - that when our lives end we will be thought of fondly for a little while for the little good that we have done. Our hope is that these foretastes will one day be brought to completeness and fruition in unimaginable ways. Our hope is that one day He will return (and He will). And so we do not labor in the vanity of human hope. We labor as those ushering in the first-fruits – the foretastes – of a kingdom that will last forever.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Section 319, Row K, Seat 11

2009-05-26T23:46:00.006-04:00

That's where I sat for what turned out to be the Carolina Hurricanes final game of the season. First off, let me say that I take my hat off to the 'Canes. They had an incredible close-out to the 2008-2009 season. They turned a poor-to-mediocre year into an unbelievable playoff run that ended tonight in the Eastern Conference finals at the hands of the Pittsburgh Penguins. The Crosby-Malkin duo proved too much for the Hurricanes to handle.

It was a memorable game. Very memorable. (Thanks, Jarred, for the invite!)

But it wasn't Eric Staal's incredible first period tally 1min 36sec into the game that will forever remain etched in my memory. And it wasn't Crosby's picture-perfect 2-on-1 pass to Bill Guerin mid-way through the second. Nor was it Crosby's selfless pass to Craig Adams for an empty-netter in the dying seconds of the third.

It was the guy in Row J, Seat 11. Directly in front of me.

At first "whiff" - a few awkward glances were exchanged between Jarred and I as we tried to determine the source. But soon the culprit became clear. I don't know what he ate ... but he should never eat it again. And there I sat - behind and above him. I had no where to run. No where to hide. And "it" happened about 15 times (conservatively!!) in the course of the hockey game. There were about 4 or 5 of us in Row K who - almost on cue - would breath deeply into our free white 'Canes "fan" towels for relief. My olfactory system may never be the same. The odor was truly other-wordly, eye-watering and ambient-temperature-raising.

Yes - it was a game I will not soon forget. Thanks for the memories guy in Row J. My hat is off to you too.

Apples to Apples

2009-05-21T12:38:00.004-04:00

(written for the newhope newsletter 5/21/2009)

I can’t escape a visit to the in-laws in Kentucky without a few lively rounds of Apples-to-Apples. Like the Elliott’s (my in-laws), the game is loud, animated, and full of laughs and good-natured bickering. It’s a word game played with red and green cards. The ‘green-apple’ cards contain an adjective (like “fuzzy”, “frightening”, “delicious” or “patriotic”). The ‘red-apple’ cards are all nouns (like “bumblebees”, “Canada”, “lava lamps” or “David Letterman”). Everyone is dealt 7 red-apple cards. The game play is pretty straight forward. A green-apple card (adjective) is flipped over. Each player selects a card from their hand that best fits the adjective and gives it face-down to the judge. The judge mixes them up and then reads them aloud to select the winning card. Every player has the right to defend their card and why it should win. This is where my in-laws shine. They all possess the unique gift mix of volume and stubbornness … which makes for a very boisterous apples-to-apples experience. I rarely win. My logic-based defense of my choices seldom convinces an Elliott judge.

My (mostly) daily reading this week took me through Isaiah 9 – a key prophetic passage foretelling the Messiah. I’m sure many of you are familiar with it.

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

There is a phrase in verse seven that gave me pause.

There’ll be no limits to the wholeness he brings. (Isa. 9:7 The Message translation)

It was here that I began to think of the game apples-to-apples. We all have a handful of cards … each promising varying degrees of wholeness. Career. Accomplishments. Physique. Sex. Wit. Intellect. Money. Friendship. Beauty. And we look at the cards in our hand and make a selection in hopes of finding wholeness. We might pick “beauty” or “physique” telling ourselves that if we only spend a little more time at the gym that we’ll find the wholeness we crave. Or we might pick “money” holding out hope that if we get the raise we deserve we’ll finally hit upon the measure of wholeness we are searching for. And we loudly justify and uphold our choices with our flawed culture-influenced logic.

And all the while, hidden behind these cards is Another that easily trumps them all.

There’ll be no limits to the wholeness He brings.

This weekend as we continue our series The Shack, let me encourage you with all the strength I have to play the right card. All of the others offer such limited and incomplete wholeness … which is no wholeness at all.

But there is no limit to the wholeness He can bring to our shack.

The Tick

2009-05-15T07:51:00.000-04:00

It may be the year of the Ox according to the Chinese calendar, but according to my backyard it is the year of The Tick. In our previous 4 springs / summers, the Mulders have had a combined 6 ticks. Total. This year we have already had SEVEN! As such, I hereby declare 2009 the year of the tick.

And so, I'm dedicating this blog post to The Tick. Not the sesame-seed-sized-blood-sucking ectoparasites in my backyard. No. But to the best television-series-live-adaptation-of-a-cartoon-superhero EVER!

One magical weekend last fall - I watched all eight episodes with my brother-in-law (Uncle Vinnie) and my father-in-law over the course of two evenings. And we laughed like little school girls. And while Rachel would never admit publicly that she enjoyed the show, she did! I'll bet she's laughing right now reading this post.

The Tick is a "square-jawed, muscular, bright blue-costumed [tick] with antennae sticking up from his head." He was masterfully played by Patrick Warburton. He's high-spirited, frequently obtuse, and prone to making odd, dim remarks and "inspirational" speeches filled with bizarre metaphors.

My FAVORITE episode was The Funeral. In this episode the Tick confronts his mortality for the first time at the funeral of another superhero - the Immortal. Ironic? Yes. Wonderfully so. (Kyra thought I was a little crazy this morning while driving her to school because I laughed out loud several times replaying scenes from The Tick in my head. Hilarious, I tell you!) Although not on the funeral program, the Tick takes the podium and delivers an "inspirational" eulogy for his departed colleague. Here are his opening remarks. (NOTE: it may help to imagine Patrick Warburton's voice giving the delivery.)

Death. The eternal blink. The capricious dance of "now you've stopped moving forever". Well, contrary to popular belief, death isn't just for dead people. It can happen to anyone. I know. It was news to me,too. And it's not just people, either! It's all kinds of stuff. Horses, fiddler crabs... did you know that even a potato can die?

(Rachel - we are SO watching the Tick tonight. Uncle Vinnie? Steve? Are you in?)

In Orbit

2009-05-09T21:13:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while, a book offers a new way to frame an old thought. And the old thought suddenly becomes alive again. Timothy Keller's The Reason for God has done that for me.

In chapter 14 (called The Dance of God) Keller paints a picture of the Trinity using verses from John's gospel where the Spirit's role is described as glorifying the Son (John 16:14) and the Son is described as glorifying the Father (John 17:4) and the Father is described as glorifying the Son (John 17:5). And so, the God-head is pictured as continually glorifying – that is, praising, enjoying and delighting in One another.

"Each of the divine persons centers upon the others. None demands that the others revolve around him. Each voluntarily circles the other two, pouring love, delight, and adoration into them. Each person of the Trinity loves, adores, defers to, and rejoices in the others. That creates a dynamic, pulsating dance of joy and love.", [Timothy Keller, The Reason for God]

Like the Trinity, we too are called to center upon and revolve around others. Jesus summarizes the life of a disciple with two simple phrases. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind. And love your neighbor as yourself. We are called to be in orbit. To be engaging in self-giving love for God and for those around us. To be in the constant motion that is self-less love.

But when the motion stops, sin begins. We become stationary. We stop orbiting around others and instead demand they revolve around us. Rather than selflessness, we re-embrace self-centeredness and mete out love only when it is within our best interests … when it can oblige God or others toward us - make them indebted to us.

Framing sin in this way – as being stationary – and thinking of love as being in orbit around others has been revolutionary to me. First, it has been encouraging as I think upon the ways that we (the Mulders) are “in orbit.” The way we pray for our girls before school (“God, please help Megan to see opportunities to show great kindness to someone who needs it today.”) And I think of Rachel's growing friendships within our community. And of my Wednesday morning breakfasts downtown. And of how our lives intersect with our newhope family. And of how Rachel and I are growing deeper in our faith and in our love for each other. But also – I have been SO encouraged (and humbled) by the countless ways I see others in orbit around our family. There are so many people in orbit around our lives. Thank you. (Annie, Mark, Ryan, Marissa, Andrew, Shanna, Jeff, Rob, Sarah, Scott, Lisa, Angela, Jarred, Carter, Josh, Rick, Tenea, David, Kevin, Sonny, Brian, Sara, Reg, Chris, Marilyn, Steve, Harm, Linda, and MANY, MANY, MANY more).

The First Stone

2009-04-30T13:55:00.000-04:00

I read this verse as part of my (mostly) daily reading today.

Deut 17:7 "The witnesses must throw the first stones in the execution, then the rest of the community joins in."

If mankind's moral and ethical leanings have always had the fingerprints of their Maker, this command must have been unbelievably difficult to carry out. It's one thing to accuse someone of a crime worthy of capital punishment, but it is quite another to be the one to flip-the-switch, or cast the first stones in an execution. Who actually wants to be involved in the organized terminating of life? Anyone?!?

I believe this command in Deuteronomy is one of grace - one that prevented far more executions than it produced. One of the great evidences for the existence of God is an inherent set of ethics and morality built within the human heart. A purely naturalistic view of the history of the earth struggles to account for these ethics / morality. Nature is violent and adheres to a strict code or survival-of-the-fittest. But humanity has this inherent compassion. A desire to protect and preserve life ... not to end it. For example, everyone (except the most depraved or deceived of minds) believes that napalming babies is wrong. And everyone knows that genocide is wrong - which is why when the most depraved minds endorse it, the rest of the entire world rises up in objection. Every culture, every race, every socioeconomic standing, every creed. They all rise up in opposition. Humanity has a God-given bent toward protecting the weak. Toward showing mercy and grace when given the chance. Nobody wants to kill or see others be killed ... and so we ache when we see it. Which makes this command so compelling. "The witnesses must throw the first stones in the execution."

If I was that witness and I knew that I'd be throwing the first stones, I would do EVERYTHING in my power to see that person change his ways. I would cry out from the depths of my being "What are you doing?!!? You've got to stop!! This is not right." God knows this. He made our hearts to resemble His - to crave justice but a justice adorned with compassion and mercy.

Zen Garden Addendum

2009-04-27T08:25:00.000-04:00

Megan took the picture of her "Zen Garden" with her cellphone. Then she picture-texted it to her gmail account. Then logged onto the computer and forwarded it to me.

This is not the childhood I remember.

My head is a Zen Garden

2009-04-26T18:58:00.000-04:00

It was a loooooong (albeit good) weekend. Rachel and Kyra returned happy but exhausted from the NC Girls "Radiant" retreat. Megan had consecutive sleepovers at a friends house. And I had the standard fare of work related duties that accompany every weekend. (PS - I played electric guitar in church for the first time ever!)

By 4pm on Sunday, everyone was finally at home. Rachel went upstairs to try and make up for lost sleep. Kyra studied for EOGs for this upcoming week. And Megan discovered her very own Zen Garden. My head. Apart from the intense pain of removing the tiny hair-elastics, it was a very peaceful Sunday afternoon.

John the apostle and Ron Burgundy

2009-04-23T11:11:00.000-04:00

First - if you hate Ron Burgundy or don't know who he is, you don't deserve to read this. Move along.

But if you DO like Ron Burgundy and if you've read the gospel of John before, you've no doubt noticed that he alludes to himself in the third person as "the disciple Jesus loved."

...which is kind of strange at first blush.

But I don't think this is a statement of pride or arrogance. I don't think that John somehow felt superior to the other disciples... like Ron Burgundy letting everyone know "I'm kind of a big deal. People know me. I'm very important and I have many ... leather bound books ... and my apartment smells of rich mahogany" (I love that scene. Hilarious.)

I think his self-imposed moniker as "the disciple Jesus loved" is a testimony to the great strength of Jesus' love. It would not surprise me if MANY people who encountered Jesus felt the same way ... like the woman at the well, or the crippled man at the pool, or the woman framed and caught in adultery, or Peter after Jesus forgave his betrayals. He had a habit of making people feel most loved. But these feelings are not birthed out of pride. Rather, it is simply because an encounter with the raw undiluted love of Jesus is nothing short of breathtaking - and it leaves all those in its path feeling like His most loved.

Which is why, I too am the disciple Jesus loved.

I'm kind of a big deal.

Upside-down

2009-04-18T16:38:00.000-04:00

So last night, Rachel and I spent our $25 Cheesecake Cafe gift card on a half-sized Kahlua Mocha Chocolate Cheesecake. Take-out. Decadence at its finest. And as we pulled in to the Southpoint Mall parking lot, we were greeted with the valet parking sign.

Valet Parking
$4.00
Free for Lexus Drivers

I've entertained the idea of attaching a Lexus hood ornament onto my Nissan … but I think my car may require a more robust disguise. Needless to say, we didn't utilize the valet service, but we did park near the valet parking lot. It was filled with mostly newer model Lexus's (or would that be Lexi?). I could be wrong here, but I suspect that most Lexus drivers can afford the $4.00 parking fee. It's the people driving the '93 Nissans (or older) who would benefit more from the waived fee. Wouldn't it be refreshing to see a valet sign that read the following:

Valet Parking
$4.00
Free for Vehicles with a bluebook value under $1000.

That would be sweet! I might even be tempted to park there during the week and walk to work just because I'm dutch and can't pass up free stuff. But alas – we live in an upside-down world. One that tends to favor those with less need.

With our boxed-up cheesecake in hand, we headed over to the church to pick up Kyra from Impact (middle school student ministry). And unlike our Lexus valet experience, we witnessed something with rightside-up values. The students and leaders were washing hundreds of pairs of shoes that they had brought from home and/or gathered from neighboring communities. Kicks For Community – a program pioneered by two UNC students – is aiming to collect 2500 “used” pairs of shoes, polish them up, and give them away to people in need. Next month Kicks For Community will be traveling to Mexico to give away all the shoes to children and adults who do not have any. Way to go, Jarred. Thanks for leading our students.

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me.

Hanging by a moment

2009-04-14T14:02:00.000-04:00

In John 21, life for Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, James, John and two other disciples had come full circle. It all began at the water's edge when Jesus interrupted them while they were casting and mending their nets (Matthew 4, Mark 1 and Luke 5). “Come.” And they came. And so began a sequence of moments that unveiled a fullness of hope, joy, healing, peace and life that their wildest dreams couldn't have conjured up. For three years the blind receive sight, the lame walk, those with leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news reaches even the poor and underprivileged. It plays no favorites. (Matthew 11:5)

Then Holy Week happened … a moniker that has been given to Palm-Sunday-Good-Friday-Easter-Sunday only in hindsight. In the moment, it may have been more accurately dubbed the Week of Doubts, or the Week of Great Sorrow. And the disciples find themselves exactly where it all started – at the water's edge.

“It happened this way: Simon Peter, Thomas (called Didymus), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. “I'm going out to fish,” Simon Peter told them, and they said, “We'll go with you.” So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.” (John 21:2-4)

They return to their nets – something they haven't done in over three years. It's over and they are waking up from the dream. And it seems – here with their nets in hand – that everything is hanging by a moment. Their three-year journey is in peril. It is in danger of becoming their past and not their future. It is in jeopardy of becoming a memory – that great thing that happened to them back-in-the-day. A former life.

But the resurrected Jesus knows where to find them. And they eat – and talk. And their nets are left a second time. But this time, they are left for good.

When I read this story – I can't help but think of all the moments where God has opened my eyes to something truer, where He has stirred my heart with something deeper. But too often I find myself back at the water's edge where I left my nets. As He found the disciples at their nets, may He find me that I too might leave them for good.

Donkey Poop is NOTHING like Deer Poop.

2009-04-05T16:39:00.000-04:00

Today was Palm Sunday - the day we remember Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem riding on a donkey. In a fit of foolish optimism, we thought it would be a "great idea" to bring a donkey onto the stage to illustrate how counter-kingdom this King was. No white steed for Jesus. No armed entourage. Just a donkey and a ragamuffin collection of Disciples.

Well, hindsight is 20-20. We learned this morning that donkeys are not respecters of persons or property when it comes to their bowel movements. My Taylor guitar had a front row seat. And donkey poop is not at all like the gentle self-contained droppings of a deer or elk. It is wet and wild ... with a splatter pattern that would rival the most gruesome crime scene investigation.

It was nasty. Very very nasty.

I strongly vote for no donkey next year :-)

Tell him Yourself

2009-04-04T09:26:00.000-04:00

Numbers 8:1 “GOD spoke to Moses: ‘Tell Aaron, Install the seven lamps so they will throw light in front of the Lampstand.’

Curious. Why couldn’t God give Aaron this message directly? It makes me wonder – if only for a moment – if Moses thought to himself, “Go tell him yourself.” After all, He is Yahweh, the Lord. The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. And back in Exodus chapter six, we read that God spoke to both Moses and Aaron. So why can’t He speak to Aaron now?

Yesterday, I arrived home shortly after 5 and was greeted with these words from Rachel, “Curtis, you need to speak with your daughter [Megan].” Apparently a small civil war had broken out upstairs, with each camp vying for a change in governance in how the playroom was to be used. Megan was not seeing eye-to-eye with Kyra and her friend, Mayia. And as does happen from time-to-time, Megan was unable to hear anything from her mom. And so the task fell to me.

I think perhaps we (God’s children) are a bit like this. There are times when we are unable or unwilling to hear a direct word from God. For whatever reason, circumstance, sadness, pride, lack-of-faith, pain, self-indulgence or whatever, we just cannot hear His voice. And so He finds a Moses and says “Tell Aaron ...”

And here is the daunting truth. Sometimes we are that Moses. And other times, we are that Aaron. Oh for the wisdom to know the difference.

A Wednesday Promotion

2009-04-01T09:37:00.000-04:00

I think that I may have been promoted.

On Wednesday mornings, I help make and serve breakfast downtown at the Urban Ministries Center. Typically, I spend the first 35 minutes or so helping with final food preparations. Then Dave and I work the line where we serve those who come in. Oatmeal, a pancake and a danish is pretty typical fare. But for the past two weeks, Winston (the head chef) has kept me back in the kitchen to help prepare food for lunch.

I'm not sure what has given him the delusion that I know what I'm doing - - but for some reason, he's assigning me more and more involved jobs. Today, for example, he pointed me toward a large box of zucchinis and said, "I want you to cut these in half, season them and grill them."

Here's what he doesn't know. Rachel cooks 95% of the meals in our house. And the other 5% is usually rice casserole (the only meal I know how to make), grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup, or hamburgers on the grill.

My ego wanted to carry out Winston's command without betraying my ignorance by asking any questions, but I also knew that there was a good chance I might actually poison someone. So - I swallowed my pride and inquired a bit further. Armed with detailed instructions, I carried out my directive with precision. My mom would have been so proud.

Broken Apologetics

2009-02-28T13:36:00.003-05:00

I had two deeply meaningful encounters with two different newhope attendees over the past ten days. The first was purely happenstance. I was at the Garrett Road location picking up a few things that I needed to take over to the new building. In walked a newhope volunteer from a different ministry area … and I’m not even sure how the conversation got started, but it did.

She shared with me many things that she was thankful for. But also shared with me the profound burdens and challenges she has been facing since moving down from the Northeast to be closer to her grown up children. A nurse – she hoped to quickly find a job and pave the way for her husband to quit his job up north and move down. Five months have passed. He’s still up north. Financial stress, uncertainty, a long-distance marriage, and unexpectedly living with family – her heart was heavy … but hopeful.

We prayed together. She apologized for crying. And a genuinely holy moment occurred.

The second encounter was over lunch at Rudino’s with one of my worship arts ministry volunteers. And while I cannot divulge specifics … it too was a holy moment as he shared his story. Every life has a story, and his seemed to have an unfair amount of sorrow and hurt. I’m not sure that eating pizza at Rudino’s has ever been so sacred. He too apologized for crying.

These two encounters brought to mind a beautiful thought from Frederick Buechners book, A Room Called Remember. In it he paints a compelling argument for how our brokenness here is actually evidence of wholeness. One would not exist without the other. Sorrow is always a part of joy’s testimony.

"Our very brokenness here speaks of wholeness and holiness. The emptiness we carry around inside us through the dust whispers like a seashell of the great sea that it belongs to and that belongs to it." … "There is deliverance … and Christians are people who through such now-and-then, here-and-there visions as they've had, through Christ, have been delivered just enough to know that there's more where that came from, and whose experience of the little deliverance that has already happened inside themselves and whose faith in the deliverance still to happen is what sees them through the night." [Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember]

Moments like these are why I am a pastor.

Left on the Cutting Room Floor

2009-02-19T18:19:00.000-05:00

Each Thursday morning, I drink coffee at Bean Traders with a small collection of imaginative-thinkers as we plan out creative elements for upcoming services. We affectionately refer to ourselves as the CRAP team - CReative Arts Planning team. A little crass, I know ... but yet strangely appropriate. Some of our ideas are great. Truly. Some are mediocre - but then lead to other, better ideas. Some are just plain dim-witted. And then some are ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT but not-at-all appropriate for Sunday morning. These are some of my favorite moments.

This morning, our team time ended on one of these moments – brilliant and hilarious, but no hope of ever leaving the Creative Arts Planning team cutting-room-floor.

Picture it. A sermon series that highlights wisdom from women in the bible. The series title would be:

That’s What She Said.

Brilliant, I tell you. Absolutely brilliant. Maybe we could even get Michael Scott to make a guest appearance.

Fathers, do not exasperate your children ... unless it's really, really funny.

2009-02-08T18:52:00.000-05:00

Megan, who turns 9 in a month, fancies herself as quite the teacher. The other day, she wrote out a math quiz for me to take with simple addition and subtraction problems. Not wanting our teaching session to end too early, I got the last question wrong. 1 + 1 = 1. I asked for an explanation for how my answer could be wrong. How can ones make anything other than ones? And the playful sparring (aka: exasperating) began.

Megan: OK. Pretend you have one cookie.

Dad: What kind of cookie is it?

Megan: Chocolate chip, but that's not importa...

Dad: How many chocolate chips?

Megan: Seven.

Dad: So what you're saying is I have seven chocolate chips.

Megan: No. What I'm saying is you have one cookie.

Dad: How big is the cookie?

Megan: Ummm. It's about the size of this plate. (she holds up the small dessert plate that recently held her cream-cheese bagel)

Dad: That's a big cookie. And it ONLY has seven chocolate chips?

Megan: OK fine. There are 20 chocolate chips on the cookie.

Dad: On the cookie or in the cookie?

Megan: In the cookie. And now - let's pretend Kyra walks up to you.

Dad: What's she wearing?

Megan: Blue jeans, blue sweater (pause) and a blue t-shirt underneath. (giggling)

Kyra: ... and blue underwear (more giggling)

Dad: Why is she wearing all blue?

Megan: (more giggling) I don't know. Maybe she's just feeling blue today. (continuing) And she walks up to you and ...

Dad: What am I wearing?

Megan: (by this point, the giggling has grown to a full-on laugh. Her words are sputtered more than spoken) You're wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt.

Dad: And socks?

Megan: Umm ... yes. And socks.

Dad: And a cap?

Megan: Umm ... sure. And Kyra walks up to you with another cookie.

Dad: What kind of cookie is it?

Megan: It's a chocolate chip cookie just like yours.

Dad: How big is it?

Megan: (thinking) Umm ... let's say it's a little smaller than yours. (continuing) And pretend that she gives you her cookie. How many cookies do you have?

Dad: Well, I guess I'd have one and a half cookies since hers is smaller than mine.

Megan: (laughing) No ... just pretend her cookie is the exactly the same as yours.

Dad: Exactly the same? That'd be weird.

Megan: Well, maybe not exactly the same but they're close enough.

Dad: OK. So we both have cookies that are almost the same. I'm hungry. Can I eat my cookie?

Megan: (giggling) Umm... sure. And pretend that Kyra gives you her cookie. How many cookies would you have?

Dad: One.

Megan: No - you'd have two.

Dad: No - because you said I ate my cookie.

Megan: Well ... how many cookies did you have?

Dad: One. I had my cookie and ate it. And then I had Kyra's cookie. I only ever had one cookie.

Megan: (more giggling. runs over to the kitchen counter and grabs my sunglasses in one hand and mom's sunglasses in another) OK. Forget the cookies. Let's say I have one pair of sunglasses.

Dad: a pair of sunglasses? So you have two sunglasses.

Megan: (giggling) Ummm ... no. (thinking) ok, say I have one ... sunglasses.

Dad: One sunglasses? I don't understand.

Megan: (more giggling. puts down the sunglasses and runs to the living room and carries back with her two throw pillows from our couch). OK. Forget the cookie and the sunglasses. Let's say I have one pillow.

Dad: But you have two pillows.

Megan: (throwing one of the pillows back into the living room). OK. I have one pillow. This pillow right here. See?

Dad: Yes. I see you have one pillow.

Megan: (to Kyra) Pass me the pillow! (Kyra throws the pillow from the living room back into the kitchen). Now, how many pillows do I have?

Dad: Two.

Megan: (laughing with GREAT relief). YES! See! One plus one equals two.

The End.

(NOTE: the accuracy of this post was verified by Megan before publishing.)

Cargo Shorts at the Gym

2009-02-03T22:55:00.000-05:00

NOTE: This post (link) will be a bit of a disappointment for non-newhope-church-worship-arts-ministry volunteers. But it's all I've got to offer for the moment. Enjoy.

Read it HERE at the WAM (We Are Moving) blog.

The Female Brain

2009-01-27T18:46:00.000-05:00

Occasionally when Rachel and I go to bed, if it is not too late, we will stay up for awhile and read. I'm currently reading A Room Called Remember by Frederick Buechner. Rachel is reading The Female Brain by Louann Brizendine, M.D.

In an effort to help me further understand how she ticks, she read me a short excerpt about "fluctuating hormones" that ended with the following:

"Because of the fluctuations that begin as early as three months old and last until after menopause, a woman's neurological reality is not as constant as a man's. His is like a mountain that is worn away imperceptibly over the millennia by glaciers, weather, and the deep tectonic movements of the earth. Hers is more like the weather itself - constantly changing and hard to predict."

Rachel: "I'm not making this stuff up."

Curtis: "Mm hmm. I believe you."

A few moments of silence pass ... during which a funny albeit potentially dangerous thought occurs to me.

Curits: "Does your book, The Female Brain, does it have a subtitle?"

Rachel: "No."

A few more moments of silence pass ... during which I begin to question the wisdom of whether or not I should actually share my funny thought. I internally wrestle with my dilemma and weigh the options. Humor-and-certain-retribution versus silence-and-a-continued-peaceful-time-of-reading? Hmmm. What to choose ...

Rachel: "Why?" (She asked slowly. Deliberately - with a deeper-suspicious tone - presciently knowing that she doesn't really want to hear the answer but must all the same.)

My internal battle was now resolved. Humor-and-certain-retribution won.

Curtis: "The Female Brain - See? All of my illogical, unreasonable, foolish, and irrational moments are TOTALLY justifiable. It's SCIENCE!"

I definitely incurred some bruising (proof that the male brain may not be as smart as I want to believe it is).

Love you, sweetie. Honest.

Two Rachels

2009-01-16T12:05:00.000-05:00

Rachel one.

It was June of 1993 when I met her. I was serving as a worship intern at Foothills Alliance Church in Calgary, AB. The church was in the middle of a building project and so we met in a gymnasium.

And there she was. Just one look was all it took. Radiant. Even amid the hideous-industrial-gymnasium-ceiling-grid lighting that makes everyone look jaundiced. But she ... she was gorgeous. Modesty had never been so hot. She was working that full length floral print dress (work it, girl) and those red lips. Wow. It was my first Sunday there and so I was not leading worship. Rather, I was just one of the 10-voice worship chorus.

And so was she. Mm-hmm. Yes, she was.

I sang unbelievably well that morning. Impeccable pitch. Pure tone. Passionate. I single-handedly elevated the musical experience that morning in an effort to win just a glance from her beautiful jaundice-lit face.

Rachel two.

Under instructions from his father, Jacob set out eastward to find a good woman from the town of his heritage. Apparently the local Canaanite women weren’t good enough. Nearing the end of his journey, he sees a well out in an open field. A couple of shepherds have gathered with their flocks, but a large stone still covered the well.

“Why not water the flocks and go back to grazing?” Jacob asks.

“We can’t,” they said. “Not until all the shepherds get here. It takes all of us to roll the stone from the well.”

Enter Rachel. Mm-hmm. There she was. Just one look was all it took. Leading her father’s sheep to the well (work it, girl) and oh how well she lead those sheep. The moment Jacob spotted Rachel, “he went and single-handedly rolled the stone from the mouth of the well and watered her sheep.”

The things we do for love.

Two things came to mind as I read this text today. First - my Rachel (hey-oh!). Second - and I know this is not the intent of this story in Genesis 29 - but I couldn’t help but think of another stone. Covering another well. A well of living water. Ten roman soldiers couldn’t move it. But that’s what love does. It makes a way. It finds new strength. And it rolls away stones. And God’s great affection for you and for me could not be stopped. And “there was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it.”

Trophies

2009-01-09T21:58:00.000-05:00

It’s been a long time since I’ve received an award. Sure, I’ve been the beneficiary of a few verbal acknowledgments and paper certificates from time to time. But it has been years since I’ve been the recipient of an actual, bona fide, legitimate trophy or plaque. You know the kind. With the authentic fake plated gold mounted onto genuine imitation wood.

I’d probably have to go all the way back to high school (10th grade). I was a top scorer on the Stony Plain Marauders Basketball team, and I remember receiving a trophy at a basketball summer camp between tenth and eleventh grade. As is CLEARLY indicated by the photo, I was a stud!!

Well, my 21+ year trophy / plaque drought has ended. This past Monday night, I received a plaque from the APA (American Pool players Association) acknowledging my team’s (Ben & Stimpy) dominance in the summer session last year (2008). Ben, Gregg, Geoff, Brad, Pete, Nikki, Jeff and I put the heat on the competition last summer. We won our league and advanced all the way to the semi-finals of the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill city championships. It was so much of fun. But this plaque means a whole lot more to me than success during the summer session of ’08. It’s a symbol of something much more.

It means that I’ve burst the bubble. I’ve finally broken out of the oh-so-constricting-yet-strangely-warm-and-seductive Christian sub-culture bubble. That's the real victory behind this plaque.

My beautiful wife wrote me a letter yesterday from Portland where she is currently visiting her two little nieces. The letter touched me deeply … especially a portion that she wrote about my pool playing ventures. At the risk of appearing prideful, I want to quote her words … poor punctuation and all.

"i am in awe (envy?) of your open heart to God. so willing to examine and be examined, willing to change, to obey even when it's hard, when you'd rather not, to do risky things. even your obvious love (and their love for you) of ben and stimpy shows great humility and how much you carry the spirit of Jesus with you. that is what those boys like in you, tho they don't know that yet."

Rachel – I love you. Thanks for journeying with me and allowing me (us) to fumble forward as we try and learn together to embrace the full call of Jesus.

Salt is best when applied. - Mt 5:13

4th Commandment

2009-01-05T18:31:00.000-05:00

I've had several people comment to me how they enjoyed hearing the first three commandments spoken of within the context of Israel's just-ended captivity in Egypt.

First off, I'd be a lying fool to take full credit for the insights. The ideas came from Rob Bell's book "Jesus Wants to Save Christians." A book that I think you all should read. It's that good. Especially the last (sixth) chapter. It makes meaningful-world-changing-faith seem possible.

The fourth commandment (Sabbath rest) also takes on new meaning. We tend to forget that there was no such thing as a Sabbath before the exodus. 430 years without a weekend. Everyday was Monday. Everyday was mud, straw and bricks.

Into this God speaks "Remember to observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. You have six days each week for your ordinary work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath day of rest dedicated to the Lord your God. On that day no one in your household may do any work. This includes you, your sons and daughters, your male and female servants, your livestock, and any foreigners living among you."

Imagine going from 1000 consecutive Mondays to all-of-the-sudden having a Saturday. A mandated day of rest. No wonder God has to say remember to observe the Sabbath. And notice the phrase at the end of the commandment about who is included: and any foreigners living among you.

God's people are not to become someone else's Egypt.

Sunday Morning

2009-01-04T18:45:00.000-05:00

Rather than write a brand new post on a largely-non-functioning-tired-Sunday-evening-brain, I thought I'd get a little extra mileage out of the message from this morning. Or at least out of one of the images shown during the message.

Yes. That is my head.

For those of you who are out-of-towners or if you were not in attendance this morning, my wife printed this image onto posters for an "irreverent reverend" party that she threw for me after successfully completing my ordination requirements here in NC back in 2005. It was a fun party ... at least the bits and pieces that I can remember.

(and if you can't for the life of you figure out how this picture could have possibly been integrated into a church service, you can listen to the message here.)

My hip-hop persona

2009-01-01T19:01:00.000-05:00

I know. This is a strange title for my first foray into the blogosphere. So let me explain. On November 23, Rachel and I watched the American Music Awards together. If you know me at all, you know that I am not a hip-hop kind of guy. I butcher any-and-all hip-hop colloquialisms. We go together like cocaine and waffles (a quote from Talladega Nights).

But while watching the AMAs, I was sorely impressed by Ne-yo. If I said it once, I said it five times to Rachel, “This guy is really musical.”

And so, for Christmas she bought me his latest CD The Year of the Gentlemen. And I love it. It makes a regular appearance on my ipod. And during one of the first listens, I was reading through the CD tray liner and couldn’t help but notice that everyone listed had a “middle” name. Antonio “LA” Reid, Reynell “Tango” Hay, Tyran “TyTy” Smith, and the list goes on. And suddenly it dawned on me. My hip-hop persona is only a middle name away. And here’s the best news.

I’ve already got a great hip-hop middle name. Harm. Close your eyes and imagine reading it on the back of Ne-yo’s next release. Curtis “Harm” Mulder. I know. You’re thinking that it still lacks a little something. And I think you're right. It needs a touch of something more to put it over the edge. Harmdizzle. Yeah – Harmdizzle (he says slowly bobbing his head as though grooving out to a hip-hop beat.)

Curtis “Harmdizzle” Mulder. Welcome to my blog.

It came without ribbons ... It came without tags …

2008-09-06T14:58:00.002-04:00

Rachel LOVES Christmas. She's a Christmas nut ... like a filbert or a pistachio. And our youngest daughter is a nut that hasn’t fallen too far from the tree.

Yesterday (Labor Day) brought with it a sudden onslaught of Christmas songs and Grinch quotes. This happens multiple times during the year, with increasing frequency in the fall. Over the course of dinner, Rachel and Megan had quoted almost the entire story. From the opening “fahoo forays” to the narrator’s first words.

“Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot
But the Grinch who lived just North of Whoville did not!”

Megan has the original 1966 TV special on an audio CD. And after dinner, her first order of business was to turn it on for us all to hear.

- - - [Cue sudden transition to seemingly unrelated topic.] - - -

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how the church grows. The New Testament offers some pretty clear directions. 1 Peter 2:12 says “Live an exemplary life among your neighbors so that your actions will refute their prejudices. Then they'll be won over to God's side and be there to join in the celebration when he arrives.” (The Message). Jesus, in Matthew 5, says “In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.” (NLT).

Growth - according to Jesus and the New Testament - occurs because of how we live. It happens because our lives make the introduction. It happens because we live as places of Kingdom intersect where the world meets Christ through us and gets to say hello.

- - - [Cue sudden transition back to the Grinch.] - - -

With each brilliant Suessian rhyme that played from Megan's little stereo, the accompanying scenes from the TV special would play out in my mind.

Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room, and he took every present!

Near the end of the CD - after all the presents and food and decorations have been stolen - Boris Karloff’s narration caught me off-guard. Despite all of the Grinch's efforts to remove Christmas and make all the Whos down in Whoville cry boohoo, it still came.

“It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes, or bags!

He hadn't stopped Christmas from coming! It came!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!”

As a 17-yr vocational ministry veteran, I've spent a lot of energy fussing over church ribbons and tags and boxes and bags. And in the process, I’ve all but lost the simplicity of how Christ arrives. Simply. Without fanfare. To a young virgin and her betrothed, a carpenter. In A stable in Bethlehem. Announcing it through shepherds instead of kings. No ribbons. Just arriving.

Somehow or other, He came just the same.

This is still how he arrives best. Simply. Through the everyday stuff of life. Through my life. Through your life. Less through ribbons and more through life.