dedication

It hardly seems possible that after thirty months of construction, and six months in our new facilities...we are finally having a dedication service (the one planned for October, 2006).

Sunday, April 22nd at 10:00 a.m. we will gather for a special worship service and at 3:00 p.m. the community will join us in a service of dedication. Why bother?

It is important for me that we affirm to our congregation that this dedication is not about a building; it is about the ministry we envisioned that prompted our construction.

It ie equally significant that we have an opportunity to say to our community, "This building is for you. Come, and bring your families and worship Christ with us. Come and meet Christ here!"

It truly is NOT about the building, and, yes, you can meet Christ anywhere.

But He will be here, too.

So will we, seeking to do the ministry to which He has called here...and there.

Home at last!

Eighteen months ago Valerie was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. Since then she has battled ferociously the ravages of cancer and a short-circuited life that threatened to take her prematurely from her husband, three small boys and extended family.

She died this evening at 9:30 p.m.

This morning I read her blog, updated almost daily by a family member or friend--most often her father--chronicling her journey. As I read today I sensed it might be the day God called her home and so I chose to read from her father's recent comments in my sermon today.He referred to II Corinthians 4:18, "...so we fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal." I spoke from John 20:19-31 and Thomas' battle with doubt but his confession of faith upon confronting the risen Christ, "My Lord and my God!"

I have personally grieved Valerie's difficult journey. She is my wife's daughter-in-law's sister, and she lived with her for a period of time twelve years ago. I met her several times--just short vignettes--but observed someone beautiful and vibrant with life. I have two daughters of my own and I have experienced deep empathy with Valerie's father as he openly shared his emotions on the blog site that posted information about Valerie's journey.

He wrote tonight about the certainty that she was at home with the Lord.

Home at last! What a glorious comfort!

Please pray for this family this week. They will be grieving the loss of a daughter, a mother, and a wife, and for many others, a special friend.

Des

I pastored in Pine Grove, a nearby town, nearly thirty years ago. A member of my congregation was Des Cranfill, a man then already in his early seventies. He was a saint--all believers are referred to as such--but he was the genuine article. His favorite song was a Dallas Holm song entitled "Rise Again" that was written about that time. A friend of mine and his wife sang it with me the first Easter Sunday it was out, and it was moving for all of us--especially Des.

Des was 102 years old to the day when he went to be with the Lord on Monday. He had been in a convalescent care facility and had steadily failed since he broke his hip several months ago. I was with him on Sunday evening and, though he was in a coma-like state, I whispered to him the words "Yes, I'll Rise again..." I am not sure he heard them but in just a few hours he was literally whisked away into the presence of God.

A couple of days before he died--the last day he was conscous--I walked into his room where members of his family had gathered. Because he was almost deaf I shouted into his ears, "How are you doing, Des?" he recognized my voice, lifted up his head from the pillow and said for all to hear, "I love you, pastor", and then begin to sing the words, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty..."

Those were his last words to me--the last words he spoke that were understood. What a way to remember my friend, Des!

Resurrection Hope

In the great resurrection chapter of the Bible in I Corintians 15 Paul reminds us that if we have hope only in this world we are miserable, or, to be pitied.

Valerie, our daughter-in-law's sister, is causing us to evaluate our resurrection hope as we approach Easter. Eighteen months ago she was diagnosed with inoperable liver cancer and she has been gallantly fighting its assault with her husband and three small children looking on. Her father and mother and extended family have chronicled her journey on a web site and the entries have echoed her family's faith in God.

Just last week Valerie was brought home from the hospital and placed under hospice crisis care. This mornng's blog says she is somewhat stronger today and the crisis team has left, though her condition remains critical. Earier blogs revealed that the children were in counseling, preparing them for what seems to be inevitable.

Death is inevitable for all of us. There is a darkness and a sadness about death that is inescapable. Grief is unavoidable when we contemplate the loss of a loved one's life.

But resurrection hope casts a light of anticipation and ultimate joy for the believer. A church family told me Sunday their 102 year old father was failing and I reflected on my visit with him earlier last week and his smile when we talked of heaven. For Valerie, only thirty-eight years old, her life seems short-circuited and relinquishment of it to God's divine purpose must be a much more challenging option.

As Easter approaches for Valerie, for my friend, Des, and for me, my prayer is that resurrection hope will lift us to the realization that God has made us for more than this world, and that what awaits us on the other side of death, is an eternity of joy in His presence.

Evaluating family ministry...

Twenty of us met today to discuss the growing number of young families at our church. We acknowledged, as well, the increased variety of challenges including single parent homes, blended families, "deadbeat" dads, cultural redefinitions of family and roles, options to public education including home-schooling...and the list goes on. Each of these factors--and others--make us ask, "What can we do to build stronger families?"

Several pieces of information have motivated me afresh to ask this question. A single mother told me about her daughter's losing battle with meth addictiton; another mother of six (friend of my sister) fell out of a swing and broke her neck, leaving six chidlren motherless. And there are the daily phone calls detailing family crises of every color and form--more than we can effectively counsel and address with our current personnel resources.

Sadly enough, the battle for the family is being lost as much within the church as without. Divorce, premarital sex, infidelity--these things, and more, are prevalent among believers even though they are allegedly committed to the teachings of the Word of God which warns against each. Ministers, as the news reminds us almost weekly, have succumbed to the temptations of marital failure, in alarming numbers. even amongst our leaders in the church there is alarming evidence that God's word is not being taken seriously.

What can we do?

As we evaluate family ministries at Grace we are being drawn back to the teachings of scripture that talk about the role of a husband and wife, the training of children and the principles of maintaining healthy relationships. Even as I write these words I can sense the cultural antipathy towards words like "roles" and "training", as if they were archaic remnants of a hideous past.

The dissipation of the family unit parallels the concomitant descent into what has become a largely dysfunctional society. The fact that there are those who clamor for same sex marriages, punishment for those who spank their children, and other things that were unthinkable to us decades ago, only accentuates the dangerous path we are on. It mirror the demise of other great civilizations who abandoned values that once were critical to their internal strength.

As we evaluate family ministry, we realize we occupy a very small spot on the horizon of the future. But at Grace we feel compelled to a better job of teaching what the Word of God proclaims to be true...though it may make us the object of ridicule, even from those who sometimes attend.

In May I will present a series AT Grace on the subject, "The Family...According to the Bible". Stay tuned!

Missions Faire

Every year at Grace Fellowship we have a missions conference weekend. It has looked familiar the last several years--though it has been well-done--but was curiously absent of young families. Our Board of World Missions decided to address that issue this year, figuring that if we don't get young families involved NOW, our missions program in the future could be on unsteady ground.

Enter the Missions Faire, a wonderfully interactive environment for families to see and feel missions. Nineteen booths housed the various missionary enterprizes we support--both foreign and local--and were complete with video presentations, slide shows, pictures, hand-out materials of various related subjects, as well as some hands-on activities for children. These booths were manned by local church people, in some cases, and by visitng and local missionaries as they were available.

The net result was a significant increase in participation and many comments reflecting on the effectiveness of an atmosphere that engaged our senses--allowing us to literally have a visual and sensory exposure to the various missionary outreaches we support. It was exciting for me to see young children pounding nails into boards-as if they were constructing a building to house missionary activity--and staring curiously at videos of far-away places that probably seem like another world to them.

It was equally gratifying to see our church families working hard to construct booths, communicate with missionaries so they could effectively decorate a booth with appropriate artifacts and pictures from their country, and enthusiastically answer questions while welcoming guests to the various mission outreaches they represented.

Many of the missionaries participated in the Sunday morning interactive sermon I prepared, utilizing their testimonies as a n illustration of how we can be "salt" and "light"--each one of us--in a world that so desperately needs the good news of the gospel (Matthew 5:13-16).

Marty Hooper (wife, Maxine)--evangelist to the world (affectionaely dubbed by me, "Pastor of Peace"), Bob and Lisa Margaron, missionaries to the very needy "underbelly" of Stockton's gang neighborhoods, and Mike and Shirley Pounds, working through City Team Missions in the most troubled area of San Francisco all helped to bring missions "home" to us as they shared over the weekend. These are missionaries that are closely-alligned with us at Grace and close nearby geographically, enabling us to benefit from their insights during the year.

All in all, our Missions Fires, so ably orchestrated by Paul Wesseler, was a huge success. It was not a Missions Faire--but a Mission Superbly done!

worship and weeds

Following a wonderful Sunday morning of worship I was transitioned on Monday to a job of weeding--something I wanted to do.

It was a little cloudy--but a patchy blue sky overhead--and the springlike warmth of a late morning sun enveloping me--that made me revel in the moments of extricating weeds that had invaded a new planter area with reckless abandon. My primary concern was that these weeds appeared ready to mount a takeover and their deceitful lush green was shrouding the potential beauty of an area to be appropriately planted with flowers and color.

And so I weeded, sitting in the middle of the planter area and filling my plastic bag with weeds to be later disposed of in a large wheel barrel, and then carted off to "weed heaven". My wife had turned on some music--some religious, some not--but it was a secondary background to the beauty of the moment and the contemplation of the task.

In a few hours the weeds were gone, the appropriate cleanup accomplished and my wife and I surveyed our accomplishment with some measure of pride amd satisfaction. There is planting still to be done, but the "wretched" job of pulling weeds is history.

I want to worship on Sundays. Sometimes I have to extract some things from my mind--pull out the weeds--but the process enables me to observe the true beauty of God.

Such "weeding" may be the precursor to true worship.

It is if you want a garden of flower and color with the face of God not obscured from view.

saturday nights

Tomorrow is Sunday, not a day of rest for a minister. I come to Sundays with a mixture of emotions often reflective of the week preceding. This week my seven year old grandson was sick and ended up in the hospital having surgery in Dallas (pretty scary!), my wife's mother had an incident that precipated conversations about assisted living, two families told me they were moving to another church (for various reasons), a young father with a big family had some tough chemotherapy, a good friend's mother died after a short bout with cancer, my wife's sister had knee replacement surgery...and it snowed.

But it's Saturday night. A time for reflection, a time for anticipation.

What do I have to say tomorrow that will matter to anyone who has been in any of the common situations I have described above? Why would anyone leave their world of confusion and crisis to come to church?

That's why I love Saturday nights because I know tomorrow IS Sunday.

And people will come--not everyone I wish would be there--but they will come. They will come to serve, to worship, to listen, to open their hearts to the Word of God.

And I will be there. Not alone, but with the Word of God which, midst all the events of the week, has been the steadying influence in my life. I humbly carry its truth into the pulpit, and even though there will be some who are skeptical--and probably a few naysayers--God's Word will go forth.

Maybe imperfectly, and, certainly, through a flawed mouth piece.

But Saturday night will have passed, Sunday morning will have come, and there will be new words of truth to embrace and new hope for another week.

BREACH

Chris Cooper plays a conflicted character in this newly-released movie about a real life American spy who sold huge security secrets to the Soviet Union. We are shown a man of highly-developed family values and fervent religious principles. At the same time, his fascination with lurid pornography as well as his deliberate betrayal of his countrymen leading to their execution is revealed to us.

We are left to wonder what made Richard Hanssen do what he did? No answers are forthcoming in this vivid portral of a man who breaches the most basic of human ethics in his pursuit of subliminal political goals as well as the money he decries as unimportant.

The breach apparent to me is with his own conscience. It is so savagely-seared that he can peacefully co-exist with the innocent love of his grandchildren and the open-affirmation of his faith in God while at the same time navigating a course of eventual self-destruction.

There is a potential breach in all of us of what is good and right and ethical. It is fed and nurtured by our sinful and self-destructive nature. We cannot avert its inevitable destruction unless we submit to the voice of God and the wooing of the Holy Spirit calling us to true faith in God, the One who made us for so much more than what we often settle.

the pluses and minuses of paint

The church has offices in a building constructed in the 1870's and moved to our church property fifteen years ago. It is an old victorian house, and even with the building of new facilities, we decided to preserve our "quaint" office space here.

Recently, we determined we needed more office space so we have been in the process of rennovating the upstairs, where we can locate at leats four new office areas. What our limited budget allows for, primarily, is paint. I just came down from surveying the work and made these mental observations.

1. Paint covers a multitude of sins.

2. Paint does not cover all the history.

3. Paint only a temporary "fix".

The first impression upon walking upstairs is "Wow! This looks great!" And it does. There is a cleanness and a freshness to the space that is obvious.

A closer look, however, reveals some history about the walls and the space that indicate there are some things deeply beneath the surface of the walls that cannot be hidden.


Fianlly, upon reflecting on the painting, I've noted that in time there is some more serious renonovation that will need to take place, when we are willing to spend the money and to do the work.

Dealing with outward appearances may appear to be a means to feelng beter. Inevitably, though, closer examination of ourselves reveals that there is work left to be done. In the end, the outward "recasting" only delays the inevitable--though it may give a momentary reprieve--but at best, is a temporary fix.

We can't "paint over" the deep issues that lie beneath the surface of our lives. Sooner or later, they will emerge to be dealt with.

Laying the paint brush aside may be costly in comparison to pursuing the alternatives of true healing and restoration, but in the end, the value will be more than that achieved by an inexpensive paint job.

walking

A treadmill does not provide scenic accompaniment to exercise. Going up and down our local high school bleachers is also less than inspiring in terms of landscape and atmosphere.

Today I decided to drive a few short miles to a nearby river. I parked my car and then proceeded to walk three miles along the meandering Mokelumne River. The sun was shining--it was a cool crisp 55 degrees--and the water was racing, the beneficiary of a recent 2-3 inch downpour long overdue in our county. All in all, it was delightful and I came back to my office rejuvenated!

We often refer to life as a journey. We talk about our daily "walk" with God. All too often our walk can be treadmill-like, simply going through the motions because we have to. At other times it is overwhelmingly arduous, much like running up and down bleacher steps until we are breathless with exhaustion.

But there are times when our walk with Him is like sharing a stroll along a meandering river, with all of the beauty of His creation surrounding us, the stillness of the quiet blue sky enveloping us and the music of rushing water serenading us. It is as if the voice of God whispers to us, "Be still and know that I am God".

Walks like this are the wonderful part of the journey.

a long look at a short life

Just recently I have been aware of the fact that people don't always live into their 70's and 80's.

*A friend of mine is 48, diagnosed with multiple myaloma and preparing for a stem cell transplant--five children under the age of thirteen

*His sister-in-law was recently diagnosed at age 37 with a severe form of breast cancer, five young children

*My stepson's friend's sister discovered her 37 year old husband dead from a heart attack in bed three weeks ago, four children

*Our daughter-in-law's sister has terminal liver cancer, 38 years old, three children under the age of eight

Enough already!

The topper is a nineteen year old from our church suffering with recurring acute mylocitic leukemia, just having undergone a bone marrow transplant three weeks ago.

What does all of this say to me--lamenting the fact that I have recently edged nearer to age sixty? (see previous blog)

It makes James 4:13-15 take on renewed meaning...

"Come now ye that say Today or tomorrow we will go into such a city and continue there a year and buy and sell and get grain; Whereas ye know not what shall be on the next day. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appeareth for a little time and then vaisheth away. For ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live and do this or that..."

I am persuaded that God knows the time available to us and it is ours to spend wisely or to waste foolishly.

Making every day count seems an appropriately trite reduction for each new day.

That's the long and short of it.

Fifty-nine

I have reached fifty-nine
sublime
it isn't

I fear I'm out of time
sometime
to matter

I wish I were "sunshine"
by design
to enlighten

I'd give away what's mine
unrefined
to serve

I know I'm "on the line"
at fifty-nine
I am

A NEW MEAL PLAN

Around my house the word "diet' is not allowed.

And for good reason. I have abused it, beat it up, massaged it, worn it out.

So my new phrase for 2007 is "meal plan". It seems easier to digest than "diet", don;t you think?

It really isn't that I am so fat (no comments, please) but more that I am getting old-ER (I hear the hearty "amens"). The older I get the less excited I am about expending energy to carry this extra weight around.

And then there is the issue of exercise. I pretty much took a "sabbatical" (almost gives nobility to my failure) from working out, walking and sports due to the challenging and time-consuming project last year of helping to build our new facilities.

A new plan is what I have decided upon--complete with an exercise program, special parameters for eatin, and a menu that addresses my specific health concerns. I am in the second week of doing this and already I am feeling energized and I am even losing weight.

How about a new spiritual exercise program and "meal plan"? I am looking at that as well, seeking to incorporate the same disciplines in my spiritual life that I am attempting in my physical life. Here are some examples.

*Joining a health club for exercise, self-coercion (if I spend this money, I have to justify the expense by using this)

*Establishing accountability partners (sharing my areas of vulnerability with a buddy and asking him to check on how well I am doing)

*Pursuing daily prayer with my mate (if I verbalize my needs in prayer, my wife will know where I need God's help)

*Sharing in a Bible study with others (if I have to set aside time to go, I will make it a priority)

*Investing in someone else's spiritual growth (if I sense a friend's need, I am compelled to respond as a disciple)

All of the above things are on my new meal plan for the year. These are not necessarily new things, but they are components of the discipline I know is essential if I am going to be spiritually healthy. I find that these are things that energize my relationship with God and enable me to act out my faith with greater excitement.

I don't want to carry the weight of self-indulgence around as a believer, nor do I want to become sedentary about sharing my faith. It is easy to miss these things until one day you take a good look at yourself in the mirror of God's Word and you say, "What's happening to me? I am getting fat and lazy!"

It's time for a new meal plan for me; how about you?

it's that time of year again

In just another few days 2006 will be another year completed. We will flip over the calendar and it will be a "new year".

We come to the end of this year with heavy hearts. Our church has experienced the moral failure of one of its youth personnel and we are grieving its impact on our young people, our extended church family and the community as a whole. For me, as a pastor, there is great concern, as well, for how the name of Christ and His church are perceived in the midst of such failure.

I am reminded of several things that have personally taken me to task as I scrutinize my own life.

1. What are my areas of personal vulnerability?

2. What am i doing to shore up the lines of personal defense through transparency, integrity and accounability?

3. Am I continually aware of my own daily need of God's grace and mercy?

As I look to the "new year" I am aware of my penchant for making resolutions, drawing up programs of structured phsyical and spiritual disciplines...and then leaving them behind.

However, the experiences of the past year--grinding through a church building program that took longer than we thought and dealing with serious extended family crises that hurt more than I could have imagined--have taught me something new already about my dependence upon God and my need for accountability and affirmation with others.

I see the "new year" as an opportunity to keep on doing some oft he things I have learned and to invest these lessons in my relationship with ten men ho I connect with one-on-one each week.

It's that time of year again--and although my heart is filled witha mixture of sadness and joy--I am looking forward to my continuing adventure in my walk with God.

Pottery Barn chairs

We have six pottery barn chairs for sale. We list the "make" because we know some people love anything from Pottery Barn. We posted a picture of the chair and have been waiting for several days now to see if anyone can't live without our six chairs in "like new" condition...(call if interested)

"Born again" Christians. "Spirit-filled" Christians. "Evangelical" Christians. There is probably a bunch of other modifiers that are used to draw a distinctive association, I guess, with the brand of Christian in view.

It is tragic that the word "Christian" needs an adjective to embellish it or to distinguish it. The word "Christian" in and of itself should be enough. It literally means "little Christ".

But we all know that "Christian" can be used to describe anyone living in American, a person who goes to church regularly, someone who isn't pagan, a good and moral person...and the list goes on.

We need our modifiers. Otherwise, we may be talking about any old Christian, and that image is left for conjecture without the appropriate adjective.

Chairs--six of them for sale.

Not justy any old chairs. Pottery Barn chairs.

mom

My mother was in church on Sunday...at the church I, pastor. I mean, she has been in church every Sunday for a hundred years, but on this Sunday she was at Grace Fellowship Church in Jackson, California. She came with my sister, Diane, which made it an even more special treat for me.

My twin brother, Dennis, pastors the church in Sotckton where my mother lives and where she faithfully attends each Sunday. My father was the founding pastor of the church, now fifty years old. Even though it has changed faces, locations--and even denominations--it is till the church begun in the frontroom of our home in 1956.

My fatrher has been gone for eighteen years but my mother has remained the steadying influence in the church so she is there every Sunday.

That is why it was such a blessing to have her with us on Sunday. She had faithfully prayed for the building of our church facility and I wanted her to see it, and to worship with us in it.

It happened on Sunday.

I was glad my mom was there.

Bad feet

My friend has two bad feet; actually, they are bad ankles, brutally damaged in a horrible automobile accident over ten years ago. Multiple infections and surgeries later she still has extreme pain to deal with daily. She can hardly take a step without being reminded of that horrible day.

It is possible to be wounded deeply emotionally as well and to be so impacted by an event of the past that every thing we do is in some way influenced by that hurt.

How does one deal with deep pain and hurt? You can't cut off your feet or have an ankle transplant. You can't erase the painful memories of hurt and abuse. How do we cope with such trauma in our lives.

Consider that the event(s) under consideration have the potential of being "life-changing". That is a potentially trite, pollyannish distinction. Except for the fact, it is often true.

My friend cannot go places she once went, cannot sleep as she once slept, cannot enjoy doing many of the things she once did. Her life has changed.

Someone I know who was traumatized by an abusive father lives every day with the emotional scar tissue of being devalued by his self-indulgent behavior. She is not the same person she once was.

Life-changing? Definitely.

But my friend with bad feet has not sstopped living and caring for others; even as I talked to her today--in the middle of accelerated pain--she was thinking about a mutual friend undergoing catastrophic surgery. She would call me tearfully minutes later to report the surgery's success, and rejoice that everything was okay.

My other friend with the heavy family trauma prayed with me over the phone a few months ago during a personal time of emotional upheaval. Her acquaintance with deep family crisis ministered to me in a unique way as she prayed from the depths of her own experience with a faith that buoyed mine.

Bad feet.

Yes.

Bad memories.

Yes.

But life-changing lessons passed on to others, while they still limp, and sometimes weep.

stories of grace

Today I read the detailed written account of someone's experience in meeting God. It is a story of different turns and twists, but in the end, it is the story of one's search for Christ.

It is interesting because the writer sees his story as unique--and concerning the details and specifics, it is.

But as I read it, I realized it was not unlike my story--or for that fact, any believer's story--who has found Christ.

What we have in common, when all is said and done, is a story of God's love and grace.

It is often dramatic. It is miraculous. It is always worth retelling.

SADNESS

I received a very vitriolic letter yesterday from someone who is very angry at the church. I was singled out as being a liar and tagged with other unkind labels. Sadly, our church has invested much in this individual and these accusations are especially painful.

I shared with my staff later in the morning about the grieving process i went through, and continued in this morning. There is the unavoidable checking of ourselves when we have been accused. I tried not to be defensive and to be open to any hint of truth in the charges made against me. I chose not to share the letter with anyone else becasue unkind statements are made against other brothers and sisters which I know are not based in fact.

I reminded myself that we had done our best.

Does such a conclusion that absolves me of guilt mean that (a)I can't do better or (b)I can't learn from such hurtful situations. Of course not.

But I have learned I can't control how people react. I must be accountable to God--and I can, volitonally, be accountable to my staff brothers.

In the end, I am left to my thoughts and to my sadness.

thanksgiving 2006

I woke up today to three grandchildren snuggling in bed with me, asking "Grandpa and Grandma, tell us stories..." What could be better than that!

Here is my thanksgiving list for today...

*Ten grandchildren and six children (and their spouses) all in good health

*Both of our mothers--age eighty-two--doing well

*A beautiful and wonderful wife (how did I manage to be so blessed?)

*A completed church buildng--after thirty months!

*A devoted assortment of reliable friends

*A place to work that I love

*A glorious hope in Christ!

Thanksgiving 2006 is a special time for me. Never have I felt a deeper sense of gratitude to God for His faithfulness, mercy and grace towards me. I am truly blessed.

the incredible krysta

Some people impact you in ways that defy description. Krysta, a young lady I know, is one of those people.

Krsyta has been battling leukemia for the last three years and until about four months ago it appeared she was on a long-awaited path to healing. Hers is a particularly isidious brand of leukemia and the treatment itself was physically devastating for Krysta. Now, just when she has emerged from the shadow of treatment, she is facing it once again as the disease has reappeared.

It's funny but I have wrestled with my own emotions about this, and I am just a pastor and friend. It is not easy to process the "whys" of sickness and disease and the apparent incongruity of bad things impacting good people. There are no "pet" answers for we "men of the cloth". We battle as well with our own questions and search for scriptural rationale for the occurrence of things we don't understand. In the end we are left to affirm or disavow our own faith in God's fathfulness and grace.

It is an easier task to affirm my faith because of Krysta, because she has unabashedly done so. I observed Krysta during her first battle with leukemia and watched her survive a variety of potentially life-threatening situations. I saw someone emerge with a strong and quiet confidence in God.

News of the leukemia's return was a shock--literally on the heels of being told she was doing great and that her doctor visits would be reduced. I know Krysta had to process this information and decide what she would do about her own faith. And, thankfully, she has embraced it wholeheartedly.

Today we talked about the next several months, culminating in a bone marrow transplant on January 16th and a year of heavy-duty follow-up treatment. What impressed me most about Krysta once again was her quiet confidence in God and her desire to make the hospital an evironment in which she could share her faith.

No wonder I am impacted by Krysta. The validity of her faith in God is contagious for me as I struggle with the "whys" I can't answer. I am encouraged to trust the God we both serve and to be stronger because of her.

Thanks, Krysta.

SUNDAYS

It is about 7 a.m.--yes, we remembered to set our clocks back--but I have been awake since 3:20 a.m. This is the time every Sunday where I try to reflect on my sermon notes and prepare mentally for the preaching/teaching of the gospel to the people God has entrusted to my care.

This is like most Sundays--thoughts of my inadequacy, concerns about the contour of the service, structural concerns (we are stil setting up in a rented building), etc. It is difficult in such a cluttered environment to think clearly about the Word I feel called to preach.

Why is that? The discipline of the mind to do what God has called is not automatic. Paul's directive to "set your mind on things above" in Colossians 3 is a clear indication that such a mindset does not happen as a matter of osmosis or robotic stimulus' rather, it is a discipline of the will and the intellect to focus on things spiritual.

And so, every Sunday, I seek to do this. I get up early, spread my sermon notes on my desk and ask God to clarify for me once again His purpose for me, His message through me. Bev and I set aside time to drink coffee and to pray. Often, I rehearse the salient points of my message and listen for her words of approval and assurance.
Sometimes she raises a questions, asks for a point of clarification and, more often than not, those are factored into my message.

Why share this with you? I think everyone of us require the same preparation for a meaningful Lord's Day. We don't just slide into Sunday at the end of a week of hurrying from one responsibility to another, and then to Sunday services because that's what we always do. Well, maybe that's what we do.

But Sundays can be so much more if we will prepare our minds for the Word and our worship of the Lord. It will take disciple, setting our mind on things above.

And it's not just for Sundays!

the plight of the 21st century missionary

The plight of the 21st century missionary is that he struggles to raise his support. It is common practice for missionaries to come back to the States on "furlough" to rest (hah!) and renew the support needed while they are serving ina foreign country.

More often than not, missionaries visit churches which allow them (maybe) an opportunity to share their passion and needs (usually in that order). The testimony of most missionaries--and church pastors--is that attendance is generally down when a missionary's visit is announced, and that the financial response is minimal.

I suppose that phenomenon, tragic as it is, can be dismissed with the cursory, "I already give to too many things", or, "There are enough needs here for me to support", or, "How do I know what they are doing with their money", etc.

Two missionary families that I support are doing a great work in Africa. One works in Malawi at an African Bible College training young men and women to minister to their own people. The other operates a printing press in Uganda and prints Christian outreach and training materials for churches and others who evangelize and train believers.

What do these two missionary families have in common? They need more support; in fact, one may have to come home from the field if support is not raised.

Here's the kicker. The plight of the 21st century missionary is...the church. The church is more committed to spending money on itself--often, to fatten the already obese--than it is to train others to share the gospel with those spiritually starved and mal-nutritioned.

May God help us.

Cleaning a floor seems like such a mundane task. No special skills needed...no training required.

Wrong.

When the floor is 9,000 square feet and the surface being cleaned has been stained with two coats of acid-based stain, there are special considerations, to be sure.

The application of the water on the acid-etched concrete surface is a tricky one because water must be applied again and again (and again), until no dirty water remains. The water neutralizes the acid and sits on the surface discolored until it has been sufficently rinsed. This completed, the floor is ready to be sealed.

About twenty of us gathered at the building site today to tackle the sanctuary floor. It had already been stained and was ready for the rinsing stage described above. There was plenty of equipment--buckets, five gallon containers, "squeegies", mops, cleaning rags, a hose, extension cords, a buffing machine, etc.

What was needed was coordination--who would give directions? Who would share the necessary precautions? Who would assign tasks? Who would demonstrate the appropriate technique for using the buffer? Was there enough work to go around? Was there sufficient equipment to fill every willing hand?

A task we calculated would last all day took us four hours! Our work force included people ranging from 10 years to 80 years of age, ten men and ten women. Each one worked--did their share of the task. Some evidenced obvious experience in using a mop and a squeegie; a few of the men could control the buffer. Some of the stronger guys moved water in and out and a few of the others demonstrated profiency in wielding a hose.

In the end the task was finished, and completed well. A morning snack of donuts and drinks was followed with sandwiches, chips and cookies for those who worked and could stay.

Cleaning a floor, though a mundane task from another's point of view, was a glorious picture to me of how the church works. Everyone pitches in and does their part. Some have skills and strengths that others don't have, but the others bring their own contribution and willing spirit to serve to the completion of the total task.

The result? A beautiful sanctuary floor!

Here's the deal. In the days ahead we will have opportunity as a body of believers to work together to do some things that have eternal value, things that are more than buildings and floors.

I can't wait to see what that looks like!

ALMOST

For the last thirty months we have been building church home. It has taken a lot longer than we planned, cost a lot more money than we budgeted, and presented more challenges than we imagined.

But we are almost done!

We are finishing air conditioning, fire suppression, the sanctuary floor, outdoor parking...and a number of other last minute tasks. Almost!

And then we have a frantic week of cleaning to do--windows, carpeting, touch-up painting, furniture placement, etc. Almost.

And, then, we need an occupancy permit to have our first service on November 5th.

I met with a county supervisor who walked with me through the building; I had called him because we are waiting--again--on the building department, andI needed someone to "encourage" them to help us move throught this process which is almost completed.

I have runa few 10K's in my younger days and I know how it was to be almost at the finish line. there was a unique euphoria and burst of energy as the end of the race was in sight.

That's where I am to day. Euphoric.

We are almost there.

extraordinary

She has been a single mother for a long time, even when her husband lived with her. In fact, even now she allows him to have a room at the house even though he is an alcoholic, and for all intents and purposes, their marriage is over.

She is extraordinary.

Her parents were divorced when she was young, and she had little contact with her father until the final years of his life when he became terminally ill. She was with him at the hospital when he died, praying for him and sharing her faith.

She is extraordinary.

Her mother returned to her mother's home (her grandmother) to care for her as she died from Alzheimer's disease and became totally disabled and depedent in her final days. It was her granddaughter's faith that buoyed her mother's as she cared for a dying grandmother. Her mother's walk with the Lord has grown in the shadow of her daughter's.

She is extraordinary.

Her oldest son, totally dedicated to Christ, has distinguished himself in every way and is now preparing for vocational Christian service. He lives, for the moment, in the home where his mother cares for his angry and alcoholic father. He has observed her love and grace and he is becoming like her.

She is extraordinary.

Her faith is what has transformed her. I have known her since the days she babysat my youngest son as a typical teenager. What I see now is a mature woman, fully engaged with her family and church, spending her life in causes that reap eternal dividends.

I saw her today and visited with her.

She is extraordinary.

dialoguing

We want to communicate, I assume, and that is why we engage in verbal and written messages with one another. Sometimes body language accomplishes what we need to say.

But what do we do when we want to communicate thoughts that are diametrically opposed to those of the receiver? We feel like we need to express ourselves but we know at the outset that it is risky, and we can even extrapolate (with a certain degree of accuracy) what the response will sound like.

When we read or listen to the response--or interpret the body language--we ask ourselves, "Why did I even bother?"

And, yet, some of us are driven to communicate. We want to "dialogue"about the things that matter to us. Obviously, we would like an agreeable and affirmative response. Often, however, the response we receive is contrary and even cantakerous. Is the process, then, of any value?

I say "yes!"

It is valuable because we have determined that sharing our feelings is more important than remaining silent to avoid confrontation. We learn to do it in a "winsome" way--non-judgmentally, kindly--and then resign ourselves to the fact the response may not what we desire but telling the truth about how we feel is worth the attempt at dialogue.

What do you think? I promise to listen.

a cold or allergies, or...?

Is it allergies or is it a cold?

Runny nose, stuffed head, itchy throat, draining mucus (I know, it sounds horrible...and it is!), sore throat, cough, occasional headache (or sinus ache)...

Anyway, I have had one of the two--or a combination of both--for the last few weeks, coinciding with my vacation. Not the best formula for a restful time away.

I thought about what I would say when people asked, "How was your vacation?" One option included a brief recitation of all of my physical woes, my quandry in distinguishing betweena cold and/or allergies.

Another option was to simply talk about the great time I had relaxing and resting in the shadow of Palm Springs for seven days.

And that's the option I have chosen, even though the cold I have had is not easily camouflaged.

Generally it is easy to get caught up between an exercise of deciding whether or not it is one thing or another that is making us feel badly. What we sometimes miss is the obvious.

Cold or allergies...I was in Palm Springs!

It was great!

break time

Bev and I will be gone September 22-October 2. It is a time we look forward to, getting away from our work and enjoying one another exclusively.

Break times are essential in life. I know for Bev and me these times can be more discretionary than for others and that helps us stay resilient in our work. Our church family looks out for our well-being and this is one of the privileges of their watchful care.

Sometimes we must take a break so we won't break--the pressures of life can be potentially overwhelming and we all need time to step away from our normal routine to be refreshed and encouraged.

I have learned, as well, that a break time is not a break from God. In fact, this is a time for us to draw close to Him, to reflect upon His Word, and to literally rest in the hope of His promises.

I will let you know how it went when we return as I take a break from my blogsite as well.

9-11, five years later

The events of 9-11, now five years ago, have dominated the news and television media for the last few weeks. The human interest stories of courage and heroism are inspiring. The tragedy of lives lost and families torn apart are painful reminders of what happens when terror strikes.

We all can remember where we were and what we were doing on that fateful day. 9-11 is Bev's birthday so I got up early and wrote a "happy birthday" message in toothpaste on our bathroom mirror so she could it when she got ready for the day. I heard her laughing in the bathroom as I watched the early morning news and in moment we would both be sitting solemnly before the television screen in our bedroom, mesmerized by the pictures of devastation we saw.

There was a particularly poignant mement when Bev would break the silence by wondering frantically aloud about her son, Chad, who often traveled in his business to that area. We would later learn that a meeting he was to attend near the Twin towers had been cancelled for that morning.

I remember preaching a sermon on that Sunday that followed about how we cope with our fears and finding a highly-responsive audience grappling with its own heightened sense of mortality and anxiety. Almost everyone knew someone who was in one way or another touched by this tragedy.

Here's the deal for me. Are we different because of 9-11? Some people--though few--don't fly any more. All of us who air travel walk through more intensive machine screening and related delays when we take a trip. Now we have to leave our drinking water and hair gel behind, given the nature of terrorism's machinations.

But in the end, we are not all that different. Did 9-11 make us a more godly nation. I don't think so. Did 9-11 result in a long-term solid increase in church attendance? I know for a fact it did not. Are husbands and wives suddenly more attentive to one another knowing that the unforeseen events of the day could forever change their lives? No; in fact, I am seeing an escalation of family hostility and unresolved marital crises.

So, what it it about us that seems resistent to the terror and catastrophes of life? We have an almost "unhealthy" resiliency that allows us to forget the events of the past that could/should forever shape and mold us. I am certain that those who were immediately impacted by 9-11 carry forever the scars of that fateful day. But it almost seems as if it does not happen to us personally, we can segue to the next week or month without any long-term changes.

The catastrophic moments of life that I have experienced--divorce, loss of my father, battles with depression--have forever shaped me and, hopefully, for the better. I have said to God, "Help me not to go through anything as painful as this and not learn something that will make me a better person".

But all of my learning does not have to be from personal tragedy. I think I can learn from the tragedy of others. When I remember 9-11 I contemplate the shortness of life, the insecurity of the world, the importance of not leaving relationships unresolved, etc.

I think I am different because of 9-11. It is my wife's birthday so that day will always be meaningful. But now when I thinkof 9-11 I think of what we experienced together as a nation and what I, personally, hopefully, learned.

MY OFFERING

As we move through our study of the Gospel of John, I have found meaningful help for the daily challenges of my life, which have accelerated in recent months. I am not proud of my wanderings into doubt and disillusionment but they are only momentary detours. I seem to always find my way back--thank God--to my unshakeable faith in God.

John 12:1-19 begins with the story of Mary's anointing of Jesus and then proceeds to His triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Her sacrifical offering of pure nard--a very costly perfume--is the expression of her love offering and devotion to Christ. In the succeeding verses we see the crowds welcoming Jesus shouting, "Hosanna", or "Save us now!" They are honoring Him with their palm branches and emotional accolades based on their expectation that He will be their poltical deliverer. Thus, they welcome Him as a triumphant king returning from battle.

Sadly, their "hosannas" will turn into "Crucify Him!" when the realization hits that an earthly kingdom is not what He is about. Their offering is a conditional one.

I want my daily offering to Jesus to be sacrificial and unconditional. Paul's admonition is Romans 12:1 is that in view of God's mercy and grace towards us it only makes good sense for us to offer ourselves as a "living sacrifice" unto Him (Barrett Paraphrase).

So for me, in the midst of some bad times and discouraging circumstances, I don't want to withdraw from God, or hold Him hostage for unmet expectations.

I choose to offer my life to Him again--without reservation--because I am confident He is here, present with me, and that He is more than enough for any challenge I will face today, and tomorrow.

processing grief

A young friend from out of town called this week to talk about how he was handling the untimely death of his father. A mother and I shared together about the frightening news of the possible relapse of her daughter and the troubling forecast of days to come.

Personally, I have been dealing with the unsettling news of a potentially-life threatening decision someone has made who I care deeply about.

How do we grieve? How do we process the information of life that breaks our hearts, touching the very emotional center of our being? How do we "get on with our lives" when the people we love are hurting?

I have wrestled with this through most of my ministrial years, getting "up close and personal" with people going through a divorce, facing death, responding to a drug-addicted son or daughter, etc. There is often nothing to say--no real comfort to offer--because the truth is that these are most often siutaitons that are out of our control. The choices that are being made--we can't alter. The dissolution of a relationship--we can't fix for someone else. The doctor's pronouncemnet--we can't wave a magic wand and make it go away.

What we do is grieve. And grieve we must.

The comfort of God is what sustains me. The words of II Corinthians 1:3ff have been my help. "...the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles..." His comfort enables us to persevere in the hurtful situations of life...even as we grieve.

home, sweet home

I love seeing my family in Dallas. I love playing with my grandchildren. I love getting away from the regular routine.

But there is no place like home!

I came home yesterday to a pile of mail, a lawn to mow, a suitcase of dirty clothes to unpack, 536 e-mails, some disappointing news, and a cluttered desk with all kinds of exciting challenges.

But I love my bed. I love my neighborhood. I just love being at home.

dallas...here we come

We leave for Dallas in the morning to visit children and grandchildren, something I look forward to since we get to do it just twice a year.

Three of our grandchildren--JJ, Camilla and Owen--live in the Dallas area. Milla said to me on the telephone tonight, "Grandpa, will you buy me some ice cream?"

That's enough to get me packing!

A LITTLE SPANISH

One of our on site workers called me today and said he needed me to come and deliver a message to some Latin Amercian workers who are doing some tape and texturing work for us. None of them here today speak any English.

I am the resident Spanish "linguist" on the premises since I took three years of Spanish...forty years ago!

I went a delivered a very short message "Neccesitamos esto para veinte minutos." That was supposed to mean "We need this (piece of equipment) for twenty minutes." They smiled and agreed by getting off the equipment so we could use it. Mission accomplished!

For communication to take place it must be in a language we can both understand--sender and receiver alike. How do we communicate spiritual truths to those who don't understand the language of the Word or who can't relate to the theological terms we use?

Missionaries spend alot of time in countries where they don't know the language pairing up with local residents so they can establish relationships and learn the language that will enable them to effectively communicate the gospel.

I have tried to speak to our workers on site with a smile and a "Thank you" or "Good job!" However, if I want to share with them the truth about Jesus it will take more than that. Relationship gives me the opportunity to be heard, and then the use of language they truly can understand will provide the words that conveywhat I want them to know about Christ.

Learn a little Spanish...?

More importantly, build a relationship.

A visit with Virginia

Virginia does not go to my church. She is related to someone I know and I have had a personal relationship with her for over thirty years, though mostly from a distance. She has had her own church and her own pastors, but she has always been my friend.

I heard from her family Sunday that she is dying and so I called to see if I could come and visit with her. Beverly joined me as we went to see her yesterday.

She was downstairs laying in her bed in front of a window box planted with the caladiums that she had nursed with her own hands. They were a beautiful backdrop to her fragile body diminished by a five year battle with various infections that have now weakened her. She probably has just days to live.

But who would know?

She smiled as she greeted us with a somewhat raspy voice. I leaned over and gave her a kiss, and she welcomed Beverly, who she has only known a short while.

Our conversation was of heaven and hope. Was she fearful? No. Was she anxious to go? Yes. Why? This is what she has lived for. And now it is simply time to go.

We talked about her funeral and the part I would have and I reminded her of the legacy and testimony that she was leaving to friends and family members even in the days she has left until God calls her home.

And then we joind hands together and prayed. I kissed her good-bye, knowing I may not see her again...but promised I would see her again in heaven, by God's grace.

I will not soon forget my visit with Virginia.

The World Trade Center

I sneaked away this week and went to see the movie, "The World Trade Center". I was impressed by the poignant true story of two Port Authority policemen who were pulled from the rubble (2 out of 20) and lived to relate their harrowing story.

Apart from an apparition of Jesus that appeared to one of the men, there is, amazingly, no mention of God, faith, death, eternal life--all topics I would expect in a near-death experience. This is not to subtract from the character of these men, whose life and character are revealed to us through carefully-orchestrated flashbacks and crisis-generated dialogue. They have survived in spite of long-term injuries and their families, apparently, remain in tact.

I have been studying in John 11 in the passage where Jesus declares "I am the resurrection and the life" and then proceeds to demonstrate that by raising Lazarus from the dead. The context affirms that if we believe in Jesus though we may die, we will live eternally, and that challenges the fear and mystery of death, unaddressed and unanswered in the movie I saw. 2700 people died on 9-11 and our nation was pushed to the brink of disaster, but I am not sure, having flirted with death, that we yet have come to grips with our mortality.

The World Trade Center tragedy reminds me that we have no promise of tomorrow, that death "stalks" every man, and Jesus shouts into the darkness, "I am the resurrection and the life!"

DREAD

"What have I dread, what have I to fear

Leaning on the everlasting arms.

I have blessed peace

With my Lord so near

Leaning on the everlasting arms."

I have been living with some dread today. There is something I have to do--I know it is the right thing--but I am nervous and even fearful. I was thinking about it as my stomach churned and asking myself, "What are you afraid of?" (espcially if you are doing the right thing).

I guess it is the fear of the unknown--uncertain of the circumstances, the anticipated response, the endless possibilities of scenarios.

And then I remembered this old song we sang when I was younger and never worried about anything. I loved this song because on the chorus, where we sang "Leaning", the aftertime was "Leaning on Jesus, leaning on Jesus..." and we did that with as much bass sound as adolescent voices could muster.

I am much older now, but the words of that song are my encouragement as I head for my moment earlier dreaded. I go in His strength, leaning on Him.

mortgage calls and hang ups...

Every evening about this time I get several calls asking me if I would like to refinance my house. Generally, these calls occur about the time Bev and I are trying to eat dinner, or, just relax, and I find it difficult to be civil when we are asked, and asked, and asked...and, sometimes, I confess, I just hang up!

Not very courteous and Christlike, Pastor Dale.

Tonight I was asking God for something that I ask Him for day after day. I caught myself and wondered just for a moment. "Does He ever tire of my asking?" "Is He inconvenienced because He is caught in the middle of doing something else?" "Would He prefer just not to be bothered?"

Well, we have no human model like this except God who invites us to come to Him for grace and mercy in time of trouble.

Here I am again, Lord.

unconditional love

One of the unique messages of the gospel is God's unconditional love for us. The idea that aGod who knows us best loves us most is confounding at best.

When we have experienced that love it is potentially a life-changing experience--certainly in our relationship with God and practically in our relationship with others.

Can we love one another with unconditional love?

Yes. I know.

innocence

I just received a picture of three of my grandchildren in yesterday's email. I cried when the pictures came--I see my grandchildren in Texas 2-3 times a year--and I realized how much I love them. And I cried, I think, because I realize what kind of world that they are entering...innocent as they seem now.

Innocence passes quickly. Reality sets in soon enough...the reality of sin, suffering and sadness. When I look at their faces I am fearful for what awaits them.

Innocence is long gone for me. I know my sin, I know my weaknesses. I understand my selfish motives and my wounded pride. I reflect on what I have learned, often because of bad decisions, and, more often because of inisisting on my own flawed way.

I am not innocent.

But I am forgiven. I am as a little child to God, anxious to grow up into a mature believer.

That glorious prospect is available to everyone--including my grandchildren--when that veil of innocence has been lifted.

I hope I am around to validate that in their lives some day.

THE ENEMY

Why is it so hard to do the right thing?

When we have a strong sense of purpose and what we think is a good plan--and the perceived approval of God--it is disheartening when things don't go well. We may question whether or not we "heard" God right to begin with, or, whether we have done something to incur His disfavor.

Both of those questions could have a basis in reality, but often, disruption of our plans and more often, our timetable, occurs when all things are okay, and God is simply allowing us to be tested and stretched. Can I trust Him when it feels as if everything is in disarray?

I asked myself that question this morning when I was processing a number of things that are being thrown at me by the enemy--the one whose stated purpose is to "steal, kill and destroy" all that is good in our lives (John 10:10).

I know we are doing the right thing. I know God has spoken His purpose and plan to us clearly.

I know the enemy is not happy about it.

I am trusting God to complete what He has begun.

make every effort

Ephesians 4:1-3 talks about the cultivbation of interpersonal relationships and the kind of behavior that is geared towards the maintenance of peace. Verse three implores us "as much as is within you live at peace with one another."

In recent weeks that admonition has been tested within me. As I work alongside people I love and value it is a sometimes frightening discovery to find out we don't always agree. Usually it is methodological issues but they present an opportunity for divsiveness unless these scriptural verses are kept in focus.

I am grateful that the instruction of the Word when applied actually works. If we come to disagreement and we operate in n attitude of gentleness and love, our chances of reaching agreement are incredibly enhanced.

I experienced that this week and it has reaffirmed my confidence in the process of living the Word...and experiencing peace.

rested and recharged

I have been back in the office for a day and a half tomorrow and I have already forgotten what it was like to be at Lake Tahoe, surrounded by towering pine trees and right across the street from the lake with all of its dazzling blue. It is back to the real world.

Surrounded now by towering piles of work on my desk and dazzling challenges from all directions...

But I like my world. It is the world to which God has called me. I live in a wonderful quiet rural town, in a beasutiful home nestled on the top of a hill overlooking the city of Sutter Creek. I have a wonderful job at a terrific church where the people I serve treat me better than I deserve. I am married to a beautiful woman, and have a "quiver full" of children and grandchildren. My health is good and I have the joy of investing my life in ministry.

It doesn't get any better than that.

Some days I wonder.

But today, after what will be a 14 hour work day (which included sweeping out after sheet rockers at our new church building site), I feel exhilarated by the prospects of what God is going to do in the days ahead.

When I get tired, I'll find another lake--or, I will simply remember the faithfulness of God--who always dazzles me when I stop to consider Him!

getaway

Bev and I leave tomorrow morning for Lake Tahoe. It is a getaway encouraged by our caring Board of Elders. We will be gone about ten days and we are leaving at a critical time. I spoke of it to my daughter, Jennifer, yesterday and she merely remarked, "When have you ever gone anywhere that it wasn't a critical time at church?"

Point taken.

There are a bunch of issues, I guess, that come into play when I leave at "critical times".

1. How will they survive without me? (Not really...but my hesitation makes it seem like that)

2. Will the right decisions be made (there are some vital ones to be implemented)? I know they will because we have a seasoned group of elders and deacons who are seeking God's direction.

3. Can I really relax when so much is going on for which I feel responsible? The key here is to acknowledge "I am not responsible". This is God's church, His building program. he can be trusted.

So we are getting away--no television, no church work--only our bikes, lots of good books--and our 18' travel trailer that will be our haven by the side of Lake Tahoe.

It's getaway time. I am ready.

dennis

Dennis is my twin brother and, he like me, is a pastor. I went to visit him yesterday. He lives about sixty miles from me and I wanted to see him because I missed him. He just returned with a group from his church from a work trip in Arizona where he fell on a rock climb, injuring four of his ribs. He was home, recovering--taking it "easy"--preparing for VBS, making sandwiches, planning for the care of a widow who had sprained her ankle, preparing for a dramatic part as a last minute fill-in for someone who couldn't make it, getting ready to set up for the evening acitvities. That's what pastors in smaller churches do.

Dennis pastors the church begun by my father fifty years ago. Some of the grandchildren of people my father pastored are now his parisioners. Dennis does what my father did best--ministers grace and love to his people.

I am proud of him, and my father would be, too!

 

A FRIEND OF MINE DIED...

It was tragic to know that my friend died this week, a very young man. It was more tragic to know that he had reached the abyss of despair and that he took his own life. Just one day before his death I asked a mutual friend how he was doing and he responded, "Not well." The next day he was gone.

He was not a part of our chuch family at Grace but I do believe he was a part of the family of God. Several years ago I was present at his father's funeral where he told how he led his father to Christ before his death. I have known him over the last thirty years and have seen the changes that came into his life following his salvation.

He had some problems with which he grappled most of his days, even as a believer. In recent weeks they had risen up to grab him again by the jugular vein, sapping his spiritual life of hope and vitality, and shutting his mind to the truth of God's grace and mercy.

I read Ephesians 1:3-14 today, and I will read these words at his memorial service. I am buoyed by the words, "For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world...He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ...to the praise of His glorious grace which He has freely given us in the One He loves. In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace that he has lavished on us...Having believed you were marked in Him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God's possession--to the praise of His glory."

I believe my friend was God's possession...and is now in His presence. It is the certainty of God's grace and mercy that remind me it is so.

Cousin's Camp

We have five of our ten grandchildren here for five days and we are calling it "Cousin's Camp", not original with us. I have taken a week of vacation to assist my wife in this venture and after one day I understand why it takes two of us!

Which is not to say that the kids aren't terrific--they are--but we are a combined 118 years and they are a combined 31 years...get the picture?

On Father's Day I spoke about Paul's admonition to his spiritual son, Timothy in I Timothy 6:10,11, where he tells him to flee from the love of money, to pruse godly character, to fight the good fight of (the) faith and to take hold of (the) eternal life.

This week we get to invest a little of our faith in our grandchildren--already products of wonderful Christian homes. We can affirm what they have already been taught, and punctuate it with a grandparents' touch!

Elusive peace

A woman I know has been told by the doctors that she may have cancer and several tests are in place to ascertain whether or not it is so. The follow-up questions about how to treat it if it is cancer have been answered with a stoic, "There is no treatment". The result for her, of course, is a heightened sense of apprehension as she awaits the verdict.

She sent me these words when I wrote her a note having met with her for prayer and charting now her progress in dealing with worry. Someone had written these words to her.

Release...the regrets from yesterday

Refuse...the fear of tomorrow

Receive, instead...the peace of today

I checked with her yesterday and the tests were inconclusive and now there is another two week waiting period to see if the dreaded cancer is indeed there.

I found this woman calm and relaxed and grateful, receiving the peace of today.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer ansd petition with thanksgiving present your requests to God. And the peace of God,which trascends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."

Philippians 4:6,7

nine years and counting

On Thursday Beverly and I will have been married nine years. It is an accomplishment in the sense that she has endured my slow learning curve, and yet, continues to love me.

Our introduction to one another is a miracle story in itself. Every time Bev tells it to one our friends I smile and, sometimes, even cry. It is a the story of God's grace and faithfulness to us both on the heels of marital disappointment and dissolution.

I am thankful for the new life we have together. We love our six children and ten grandchildren, and we are adjusting to the fact they all have their own lives and are, for all intents and purposes, far away from us. Our visits are not nearly often enough but each one reminds us of the legacy of our former lives now melded together into the present.

Thanks, Bev, for the last nine years.

I am counting on many more!

anxiety

A recent sermon by John Piper linked anxiety to the sin of unbelief. His argument from scripture was compelling, unfortunately for me.

I have such difficulty trusting in the moment. I can rehearse and recite God's qualities and track record of faithfulness, but in the situation I can find myself harried and frenzied in a way that is inconsistent with the expression of my faith.

I have a fellow brother who shares the same propensity for worry. When I observe him, it is so easy for me to critique how he is responding...and then I remember he is much like me.

And then I ask, what kind fo example am I to him, my friend?

I have another friend who is the eptiome of calmness, in almost any situation. He was a helicopter pilot in Viet Nam, so he has been in places where that calmness was an absolute necessity. I like hanging around him because I keep hoping his mindset will rub off on me.

Here's to John Piper who reminded me that my anxiety reflects upon my relationship with God and my willingness to truly trust Him and believe His Word.

I am anxious about how soon I will stop worrying...

"Neither do I condemn you..."

The woman caught in adultery, as recorded in John8:1-11, was literally, caught in the act. Mosaic law required that the two witnesses who brought charges would have been simultaneous eye-witnesses to the incident and it is clear she is guilty as she is brought before Jesus.

There is some discussion about the canonicity of this story, and some biblical translations omit it because it is absent from the earliest manuscripts; however, it finds its way into scripture and its truth are certainly commensurate with all Jesus taught. Whether it is original to the gospel of John or was written by another writer inspired by God--perhaps Luke--seems inconsequential in view of its clear message.

The adulteress should have been stoned to death--she and her lover, who is strangely missing from the story--a corroboration of the Pharisees preoccupation with entrapping Jesus, as opposed to arbitrating the law.

But Jesus shows compassion for her, and turns to accusers with the indicting invitation, "he is who is without sin, let him cast the first sone". Soon enough, the woman is left alone with Jesus, while her accusers slip away, impacted by Jesus' writing in the dirt (probably something about their's...)

It is this moment--Jesus and the adulteress alone--that is a moment common to every believer, a moment when we stand alone with Jesus exposed in our sin. It is a moment of recognized guilt, anticipated condemnation, and undeserved and unexpected exoneration.

"I don't condemn you", Jesus says.

Freed of such condemnation (Romans 8:1), I am enabled today to walk in a new life of freedom, made possible through Jesus' words, the expression of His sacrifical work on the cross where He paid the price and took the punishment for my sins.

I am a sinner. I am guilty. He took my guiilt and condemnation on Himself so I might be free.
And He says to me again today, "Go and sin no more".

a messianic complex

I can remember when I graduated from college and headed for the inner city area of Los Angeles County, armed with my Bible, four years of college and an over-abundant amount of confidence that I could change the world.

I spent seven years there and what I struggled to learn was that I could not save the world. I hardly could take good care of myself. I had a misplaced "messianic complex" that resulted in borderline "burnout" after trying to be too many things to too many people.

I am completing my thirty-ninth year in the ministry and I find lingering remnants of that messianic complex--fooling myself into believing that I can fix everything.

The bottom line is that I can fix nothing. I can maneuver things into a better position sometimes, and I can even manage to say some helpful things, but if change for the better occurs, I have learned it is not about me but what God chooses to do in spite of me.

I am in the middle of my seventh building program, the ultimate construction challenge I have faced in my life. I find myself foolishly thinking I can maneuver and manage the changes that I remember in moments of spiritual sobriety are only things God can bring about.

It's about time I figured out that messianic complex, don't you think...?!?

Americal Idol

I watch American Idol every Tuesday night if I am home. I have been trying to figure out what it is that makes me want to.

I am not crazy about most of the music and am not particularly drawn to most of the participants. I am uncertain that there is any redeeming value in the program itself.

Still...I watch.

I have decided that I watch because I am curious. Curious about what it is we like, what it is we want, what it is we idolize.

When the winner was announced last night--Taylor Hicks--his selection was greeted with a coronation-like applause. He was apparently overwhelmed by the moment of adulation and was transparent about his emotions--at times screaming, dancing and pumping his fist into the air.

He is the new American Idol.

He seems passionate about his music, though his voice is sometimes raspy and sharply-pitched in his singing. He loves to dance, and punctuates most of his musical numbers with unchoreographed movements and occasional gyrations.

He is affable enough, and even humble. He appears to just love to sing.

I guess that is why we love him (I didn't vote) and that is why he is now our choice as an Amereican Idol.

I am not sure how I feel about that...but I will probably be watching again next year.

I guess I am just another one of the American Idle

THE BEACH

four days at avila beach and I feel like a new man.

but I have to come back to the real world.

what is there about the foaming angry ocean that is so cleansing? what is it about ocean waves crashing against the ragged rock shorelines that is so peaceful? why is it that I find myself transported to calm and rest in the midst of its fury and restless power?

i know. it feels to me like God is there, in the midst of it all.

in my real world I need to make the same discovery...in the midst of anger, screaming emotions, and power surges.

God is there.

SETBACKS

Setbacks are exactly what the compound word indicates, a moving back from a previous position. Circumstances that "achieve" that end, are called "setbacks".

Our building project has had its share of "setbacks", the most recent being the burgeoning costs at project's end and the shortened cash flow we have to address them.

I wrote the members of our board today and shared the information, ending with these words, "God will provide!"

I know He will...He always has.

We are moving ahead.

heroes

Bob and Sharon Hallissy are friends of mine from earlier days in the ministry. When I pastored in Duncanville, Texas, they were connected with Wycliffe Summer Institute of Linguistics, located nearby, and began attending our church. They and their five month old son, David (now 19), became a regular part of our church fellowship.

I have several distinctive memories of Bob, Sharon and David.

1. David, at his father's request, jumped blind-folded into his arms as a part of my sermon illustration on faith. Fortunately, his father caught him!

2. Bob and Sharon invited our family to their home for a meal and upon questoning, revealed Bob had left a large job at Hewlett Packard in computers (and all the related benefits) for the "struggling" and challenging life of a missionary (my choice of words).

3. Bob was brilliant (from my point of view) and could have written his own ticket in a burgeoning world of software fortunes but had chosen to opt to assist in the work of Bible translation.

4. Bob and Sharon ministered to me in a time when I was literally devastated by a family crisis and encouraged me to remain in ministry. I will never forget their love and reassurance when I needed it most. They were the loving arms of Jesus to me.


Well, after twenty years of friendship, separated by nine years of mutual relocation in new areas of service, I visited the Hallissys in England a few years ago and caught up on our friendship. The culmination was just this weekend when they came to share at Grace and stayed in our home for two days.

They continue to use their gifts and skills to develop tools for utilizing non-Roman script alphabets in translation and Bob helps to develop the software while Sharon faithfully serves as a secretary. Twenty years later their faces continue to reflect the same excitement in serving the Lord and their desire to return to England to resume their work is compelling.

People like Bob and Sharon are the real heroes in Christian service, spending their lives behind the scenes in places far from home so that others might come to know Jesus, and become part of the family of God.

Day of Prayer

I just returned from our county's second annual prayer breakfast, held on the National Day of Prayer and supported by the local churches of the community.

Those in attendance represented about ten churches in our community. About 75 were there for breakfast including about 15 pastors and staff members. There was a challenging speaker and a significant time of prayer addressed towards specific needs of our country. I was glad I was there, surrounded by "two tables" of our church family.

The disappointment for me was that this was all we could muster from our county for the one day a year we meet together to pray--the most important thing we can do together and the most powerful thing we can do for our nation.

II Chronicles 7:14 is probably the most recited verse calling believers to prayer, beginning with these words, "IF MY PEOPLE..."

The promises of that verse--that God would heal our land--must not be inviting or powerful enough for God's people. If we believed they were true, prayer would be our first priority and prayer breakfasts and days of prayer would be more frequent and better attended.

What do you think?

MEDIATION

It is hard to help two parties estranged from each other come to a place of agreement and potential reconciliation. This week I have been involved in that pursuit through the counseling of hurting marriages, the correction of business misunderstandings, and the clarification of working relationships.

I wish I could report "success". I can only hope and pray that God brings healing and restoration in these relationships characterized by broken trust and deep personal hurt.

Jesus is the GREAT mediator. He brings men and women separated from God back into fellowship with Him through His death. It is a costly process with incredible benefits. All we have to do is avail ourselves of His provision for us.

Meidation in the secular world is costly as well. People must be willing to pay theprice of humbling themselves, acknowledging their own failures and taking time to truly listen to the offenses cited by the other party--husband, wife, parent, employer, fellow worker, neighbor, church member, etc.

Sometimes it is not a matter of "right and wrong" but a matter of "give and take". In any case, stepping back for a more honest look, or, for a less defensive posture, may help to mediate the crisis you are facing.

The Word of God encourages us by exhorting us to "make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification..." Romans 14:19. It may cost us something, but the potential benefits will make the sacrifice worth the effort!

my vegetable garden

Bev and I have agreed to garden special areas of our yard--she does the front and I do the back. Bev' s area is beautiful--color-coordinated flowers, contoured lawn and carefully-landscaped beds. The back is all on a slope and much more wild. But I love it!

I have added areas each year of flowers, shrubs and, now, fourteen trees. My original small plot has grown into a massive area of some burgeoning responsibility. My time is limited but when I have a moment I love to get on my hands and knees and pull weeds, redistribute dirt, repair my watering system, and plant new things. I often catch myself smiling when I am doing it, and wondering "why?" I guess it is because I love being in those moments.

This year, in anticipation of Counsin's Camp (we get the grandchildren together and plan a thematic week of activities--"Growing God's Way", this year), I planted a vegetable garden area, complete with peppers, carrots, beans, tomatoes, artichokes and squash. I know...what a combination! It should give the grandkids an object lesson of how things grow when planted, fertilized and watered.

As I was weeding the area, turning the soil over, raking it smooth...and then planting...I found myself smiling once again.