Where's the Ticker-tape Parade?

GThe best moment of the college small group thing last night didn't happen with bibles open or in the defined parameters of the discussion, or even within the time we'd alotted for the students to be in our home. 

The moment that may just be the most eternal, lasted 45 minutes after the "we're old people curfew." A student called our bluff and didn't leave. He sat on the couch and watched tv. He had the nerve to just sit. Just sit and enjoy the same tv show that we were planning to stay up to late and watch. 

Together we shared a, this-is-what-I-want-to-do moment.  

We didn't share any life changing thoughts we didn't pray with him (but man have we been praying for him)

We just were. 

We let him be a person,  he was no longer bible study participant or student or or or. He was just himself and we were ourselves. 

No agendas, no plans just living. 

There's nothing impressive about this. Its not about anyone crossing a line of faith or making a deeper comitments in their walk with Christ. It simply looks like we created an environment in which that young man felt accepted.

And he stayed for it.

Something So, So...

Forever, really I think it was forever, ago or at least as long as I can remember. I LOVED drinking milk ice cold out of the refrigerator at grandpa Jones' there was something so extraordinary about that vitamin D.

Did that ring of dried milk on the pitcher give the contents some added flavor?

Was it the other open containers of heaven knows what being cooled by the same air?

I'm not sure and I ever thought I'd taste that again. In the eleven years since grandpa's death I've drank milk, mostly soy/almond or other from the store bought container...

Yesterday, Kelly asked me to pick-up some milk and orange juice on my way home. I did. I walked in the door holding both in my left arm like footballs, babies, etc. Because i had a bag of pastries in the other. As my entrance to the kitchen came, so did the bobble...ends up. I saved the donuts and the orange juice. The 2% wasn't so lucky. Suddenly the floor was white, the jug lie there pulsing, spilling milk from a strange slit in the handle, as if repulsed by the remaining contents.

Best solution for the remaining milk?

Glass pitcher.

Enter flood of memories from who knows when those sacred moments spent at the home and grounds of Rev. A.F. Jones. I gave a quick eulogy those many years ago at his funeral. I read from Hebrews 11 the so called "hall of faith" he really showed me a faithfulness to Jesus, the likes of which, I'd never seen. It was only a week or so before his death that he lead an unscripted prayer with his great-grandchildren. There's no process for inductees as far as I know to that hall so in my wisdom I added him. Along with the faithful teaching of biblical values their were many, many things grandpa also included lessons of balance, forgiveness and laughter. It was around that dinner table that I first heard Bill Cosby: Himself, in the yard I leaned to shoot, watching the news I learned of his great compassion for the world.

I was a disciple of my own grandfather, I'm not sure (cuz I never asked and he didn't mention it to his grandson-disciple) if or theology would all align but the man taught me that that doesn't matter if we can't laugh and love and forgive.


I'll raise a glass of milk from that pitcher tonight. Nasty as it may be, to his honor.

Radical Experiment

I've been spending a lot of time reading this week, and I'm thinking a lot.

Reading school work about John Chrysostom and his un-believable life.

Reading for work in preparation for Reggie McNeal's visit to Ward Church.

And re-reading an article from a friend reviewing Radical. Quoted below.

David Platt is the thirty-something pastor of The Church at Brook Hills, a 4000-member congregation in Birmingham. Platt contrasts what Jesus said disciples would be and do with what we tend to be and do as churches and Christians living in a North American culture. Exploring the biblical gospel, we will discover that "our life is found in giving ourselves for the sake of others in the church, among the lost, and among the poor." (21)

"In the late 1940s, the United States government commissioned William Francis Gibbs to work with United States Lines to construct an eighty-million-dollar troop carrier for the navy. The purpose was to design a ship that could speedily carry fifteen thousand troops during times of war. By 1952, construction on the SS United States was complete. ... The SS United States was the fastest and most reliable troop carrier in the world.

The only catch is, she never carried troops. At least not in any official capacity. The ship was put on standby once during the Cuban missile crisis in 1962, but otherwise she was never used in all her capacity by the U.S. Navy.

Instead the SS United States became a luxury liner for presidents, heads of state, and a variety of other celebrities who traveled on her during her seventeen years of service. As a luxury liner, she couldn't carry fifteen thousand people. Instead she could house just fewer than two thousand passengers. Those passengers could enjoy the luxuries of 695 staterooms, 4 dining salons, 3 bars, 2 theaters, 5 acres of open deck with a heated pool, 19 elevators, and the comfort of the world's first fully air-conditioned passenger ship. Instead of a vessel used for battle during wartime, the SS United States became a means of indulgence for wealthy patrons who desired to coast peacefully across the Atlantic.

Things look radically different on a luxury liner than they do on a troop carrier. ... After all, the troop carrier has an urgent task to accomplish; the luxury liner, on the other hand, is free to casually enjoy the trip.

The church, like the SS United States, has been designed for battle. The purpose of the church is to mobilize a people to accomplish a mission. Yet we seem to have turned the church as troop carrier into the church as luxury liner. We seem to have organized ourselves, not to engage in battle for the souls of peoples around the world, but to indulge ourselves in the peaceful comforts of the world. This makes me wonder what would happen if we looked squarely in the face of a world with 4.5 billion people going to hell and twenty-six thousand children dying every day of starvation and preventable diseases, and we decided it was time to move this ship into battle instead of sitting back on the pool deck while we wait for the staff to serve us more hors d'oeuvres." (169-71)

In our culture we are tempted at every turn to trust in our own power instead of his power. The American dream tells us our own ability is our greatest asset. And the goals we achieve bring us glory. We have blindly embraced an American dream mentality that emphasizes our abilities and exalts our names in the ways we do church. We are living out the American dream in the context of our communities of faith. In the story of Lazarus and the rich man, I, and the church I lead, look a lot like the rich man. Meanwhile, the poor man is outside our gate. We find no verse in the New Testament where God's people are told to build a majestic place of worship. What are our priorities? In the U.S. we spend more than $10 billion each year on church buildings. Church real estate is worth more than $230 billion.

Our possessions can be subtly deadly. We think of affluence, comfort, and material possessions as blessings but they may be barriers. Jesus says that wealth can be a dangerous obstacle. God's way is to put his people in positions where they are desperate for his power, and then he shows his provision in ways that display his greatness.

The Radical Experiment - One Year to a Life Turned Upside Down

The challenge is for one year: 

•  Pray for the entire world. (Use Operation World.)
• Read through the entire Word using any Bible reading plan.
• Sacrifice your money for a specific purpose, cause, or project - and get involved in it.
• Spend 2% of your time in another context. (This is enough time for a mission trip.)
• Commit your life to a multiplying community.

I know this is a big deal but, whose interested in attempting something like this?

Joy

There are few things that say Joy to me in this Christmas season like two boys in their 'underoos' wrestling or more accurately, beating each other on a pull out couch. Watching my boys, involved in such hi-jinx so often just reminds me how glad I really am for them that they have a companion to go through childhood with. I cannot wait to share some of these tales and oh so many more with them, when it's appropriate of course! So, instead  I'll share them with people who can read. Stories of my brother/friends.

I didn't have brothers growing up, my friends played this role in my life.  I'm not sure I should share their names in the details of the stories as it may 'incriminate' them. Probably not actual crimes just some things that might make us both look somewhat goofy.

1. Thank you friend who lived on a farm for, the many experiences, but most of all for the time spent in the hay loft above the cows trough peeing onto their heads after we had just dropped some grain in to lure them to the trough. 

2. Thank you friend who discovered with me that the place where the bed came from on the new pull out couch was a great spot to hide and watch the first ever episode of 90210.

3. Thank you friends who would routinely get in fights that turn out to be nothing but a good old fashioned butt kicking in someone's front yard 

4. Thank you friend who showed me how powerful the combination of pvc pipe, hairspray and potato could really be.

5. Thank you friends who inspired so much creativity and adventure at summer camps in Gowen and Evart. I wish I could elaborate more, it just doesn't seem wise...

6. Thank you also friends who continue to be the brothers I didn't have. From the blood and sweat of the softball fields, to roshambo in the offices, to cheering court side, to dreaming of adventures yet to be lived, to a conversation and a cool beverage on the front porch, to sharing a holiday meal with the brother's-in-law, or heroically living our lives as husbands, fathers, and men. You guys are the brothers I never had!

Better Than Santa

You may or may not know this about me. I'm like, super religious and stuff. Okay well that's not the entire truth but I laugh when I say it. I am however really into Jesus, I believe some things that happen to affect most of my life that might be described as religion. (and I'm okay with that) There are things about being lumped in with religious people that bothers me though. I really hope that at no point in my life could anyone ever say that I perpetrated any hate

Typically Santa is one of those things that uber religious people take issue with. I'm not saying they might not have reason for it, I just don't think it's worth getting so worked up.

I have issues with Santa that are totally different in the origins. Just so no-one confuses my anti-Santaism with religious fervor.

At my house, Christmas morning. I want to be the hero! I want to be the guy that brought the BEST present ever in. I'm not willing to take second place to a mythical guy who will NEVER actually show up. That's all I'm saying.

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