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.