A Multitude of Questions

I helped at church tonight in our Kid's Chapel. The story read was about Jesus feeding the 5,000. If you've been around the Bible at all, it's a familiar story. It's the only miracle outside of the resurrection of Jesus that is mentioned in all four gospels. It's been renamed "The Feeding of the Multitude" more recently as the 5,000 people numbered were only the men, not the women and children. The people in attendance probably numbered in quintuple digits.

It's one of those stories I'd love to have more details about--what we have leaves a lot of questions. Like, out of all those thousands of people, was that one boy the only one who thought to have some food with? I doubt it. But if not, why was he the only one who volunteered to share? And where were his parents? Were they somewhere else? If so, why did they send him with five loaves of bread, let alone two fish? Isn't that a lot of food for a boy? And if it was his lunch, where were the veggies? Was anyone in the audience who didn't believe in Jesus after being in the crowd? And what happened to all the baskets of leftovers?

Regardless of the questions the story brings, it's point is fairly clear: give what we have to Jesus and let Him use it, not matter how small and insignificant it seems. Like many things, that is easier said than done. I still struggle at times with letting Jesus use my little--possessions, time, talents. Sometimes it's because I'm not willing to give it up. I mean, if I give Jesus my fish and loaves to feed 5,000, what guarantee do I have that I'll get anything? Selfishness gets in the way. Sometimes it's because I don't think my fish and bread are significant enough to matter; I don't think that Jesus can use the small things I have to do anything worthwhile. Small thinking gets in the way. Sometimes it's just because I don't think Jesus can do anything with it. My lack of faith gets in the way.

I'm sure these same thoughts were going through the minds of everyone else in the crowd who happened to have had a few morsels with them that day. The long and short of it is that Jesus can only turn our small things into big things--He can only use what we have--if we're open to giving what we have to Jesus. In many ways, it's a matter of posture as much as it is a matter of giving what we have.

Letting Go

There is an old story (sometimes thought to be from Aesop, but at least coming from 1st century Greek philosopher Epictetus) about a boy who puts his hand in a pitcher of figs and filberts, grabbing so many that he cannot pull his hand out. We all know the moral of the story--that he has to let go in order to free his hand.

Jesus talks about something similar a few decades earlier when He encountered a man with much wealth. The man falls at Jesus feet, wanting to inherit (or get) eternal life. He has kept all the commandments. Clearly, he is a good person, has done the right things, and can humbly come before Jesus. Jesus, with much love for the man the text tells us, tells him the other thing he must do to inherit eternal life is to give away all his possessions. The man leaves, dejected.

Hearing it in church, made me thing that today the story might go like this:

A wealthy business CEO (like Tony Stark--someone who does good things, is smart, and inherited the company fortune from his father) comes before Jesus. "Jesus, I'd like to gain eternal life. What can I do to get that?"

"Remember all those things your parents and Sunday school teachers told you to do? Do them."

"I have. I've run my business honestly. I've been faithful to my spouse. I've never hurt anyone. Trust me, Jesus, I'm a good person. I'd be a great fit for Heaven."

"Alright then," Jesus replies, "then you only need to get rid of all your possessions and wealth so that you can help those who have none."

"Oh, but I give to charity already."

"I mean get rid of it all. You're holding on to it too tightly." The man leaves, glumly.


Then Jesus turns to the middle-class house wife next to Him.

"How about you? Do you desire eternal life as well?"

"Yes, of course. And don't worry about me...I don't have many possessions. We have little in our bank account. We still manage to tithe ever Sunday."

"Good. Then you just need to let go of your judgmentalism, your envy, your emotional insecurity, and your desires for your children's future." She walks away, sullen.


Then He turns to me.

"And you...you need to let go of your fears, your hurt, your pride, your isolation, your intellectualism, your compulsions, your..."


Pastor Jan noted in tonight's sermon that we have to release in order to gain. We dispossess to possess.

We don't "inherit eternal life" or "get into Heaven." We can't do anything to merit it. And, in many ways, it's not the goal. We follow Jesus. We enter into a relationship with God. The Kingdom of Heaven is here...and not yet. But it isn't for those who are holding onto things. We have to come with empty hands to Jesus...or at least bring those things we need to give to Him. I don't necessarily like this idea. I find much comfort in some of the things I hang onto, but I can only call Jesus "Lord" if I have let go of those things and let Him have all of me.

Listening, Being Present and The New York Philharmonic

A couple days ago the New York Philharmonic and its director, Alan Gilbert, were in the news--not so much for their music, but because they had to stop a concert--right at the end of Mahler's Symphony No. 9. At issue: a ringing cellphone. At the beginning of the concert, as I understand, a pre-recorded message from Alec Baldwin, even asked people to turn off their cell phones. (I also understand that the perpetrator of this faux pas had just gotten the phone newly from work and didn't know that an alarm was set on it.)

We've all been in movie theaters or concerts or meetings or other places when someone has forgotten to turn off their cell phone and it goes off in the middle of things. I've done it myself. It's easy to forget to do. And sometimes we need to be reached--if our kids have an emergency for instance.

But we've all probably been in theaters, concerts or meetings where someone continues to talk, ignoring everyone else around them.

Tonight's text at church was 1 Samuel 1 in which God calls to young Samuel, who is in the temple with Eli. God calls to Samuel during the night. Samuel wakes up, thinking that Eli is calling him, but Eli tells him to go back to bed because he hadn't called Samuel. After three times, Eli finally realizes that God is speaking to Samuel, so he instructs Samuel to respond to God.

God, ever so patient and gracious with giving us several chances, calls to Samuel once more.

Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.

And God speaks to Samuel. Not just then, but the rest of his life.

God still speaks. But we must be listening to hear. We must be willing to be present and available to Him.

Continually having our cell phones on does not constitute "being present." More likely, having our cell phones or ipods turned off makes us more present to others.

But listening to God or to others involves just turning off technology. Being present is a posture we take. We are, as much as possible, available and ready when God or someone else desires to speak to us. We are aware of self, but not absorbed with self.

When Samuel responds to God, he does so with the label of "servant." That is the role He calls us to as well. Serving others--our calling and purpose--is living out our love, both for God and others. Being present is living out love.

This is why the Rule of Benedict begins with the word, "Listen." Benedict knew that for a community to thrive and to live out their commission of loving God and loving others, they needed to be present. Awareness of God, Respect for Others, Hospitality, Taking Counsel and Listening are all core values of Benedictine communities and new monastic churches. They were core values of Jesus, as well. These values take a posture of being present.

Turning off your cell phone shows consideration for others. Turning them your ear shows them love.

God desires our ear as well.

Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.

The Cynic And the Ice Cream Truck

Ice cream trucks frequent our street. And I mean frequent. We can see six or more different trucks in a day. And some of those come by more than once (I think being close to the Boys & Girls Club is a factor).

You can hear an ice cream truck coming from several blocks away (one of Beth's friends tells her kids that if they're playing music, that means they're out of ice cream). They all have the same chimey music--like music out of some psychotic kidnapping movie.

Often it's something like "London Bridge is Falling Down," La Cucaracha" or "Pop Goes the Weasel." Once in a while I'll hear something like "When the Saints Go Marching In." The music that always grabs my attention is the out of season melodies. A couple of times I've heard "Easter Parade." More often I hear "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" or "Silent Night."

I admit that my thoughts seldom focus on how "Joy to the World" has come or how I could be included in the throngs of the faithful who come. I typically think about how silly they are to be playing such music (though, it is probably a great marketing ploy in many ways) or how annoying it is to hear Christmas music in July.

Now, I'm not promoting blind religious fanaticism that sits meditatively awaiting an ice cream truck to approach playing a religious hymn and joining along singing at the top of your lungs. I'm starting to realize, however, that it's not helpful for me to turn instantly to cynicism. I could let the music be a reminder of God's gift of His Son to us. I could let it remind me to be "joyful and triumphant." I could let the music be a cue to connect with God at anytime during my day. Maybe, just maybe, that would be a better posture of the heart to be in than cynicism.

So bring on the glockenspiel-based music box of the ice cream truck. Maybe it'll point my heart in the right direction. Unless it's "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer." That just deserves a little cynicism.

Doubting Thomas

On Sunday at church we looked at the story of Thomas encountering the resurrected Christ. It was a wonderful experiential evening. My friend Tonya was teaching and she insightfully put together four different encounters based on different learning styles. There was a kinesthetic station of body prayer, an verbal station of telling the story, a tactile station of re-affirming faith through touching physical objects and a visual station with various artists' depictions of the story as well as a video of Nickel Creek's Doubting Thomas song. (I led this station; a few of the art works are shown here.)

Thomas often gets a bad wrap. Matthew 28:17 tells us that more than just Thomas doubted. Mark 16:14 says that Jesus rebuked all the disciples for their lack of faith. Thomas just didn't happen to be present when the rest of them first saw Him.

We all have doubts. Doubts are good. Without going through doubts our faith seldom goes deeper. Doubts mean we're thinking; we're interacting; we're engaged. Faith is a gift from God--not something we can produce ourselves. And just as Christ came to Thomas, He meets us where we are. And Thomas went on to do great things, supposedly being the only disciple who took the gospel outside of the Roman Empire to Syria and India.

So, don't be afraid to be a "Doubting Thomas." Just don't let your doubts hold you back.

Journey

I preached tonight. I'm slowly getting the hang of it. When I went to seminary I never felt called into church ministry--thought I was being called to camping ministry. And I was. For a time. But now I'm getting a bit of experience in the church. And I'm mostly enjoying it. Tonight we talked about journey.

The lectionary text for tonight was Genesis 12:1-5. In it God calls Abram to journey from his home and family to go to Canaan. The Gospel text was John :1-17 where Jesus tells Nicodemus about the need to be born again. "Born Again" is one of those phrases I hate to use anymore. As I said in my sermon, people today either use the term with scorn or as a badge of honor to separate them from the unfaithful. Jesus didn't intend it as a label, but as an action. Being born again means that you're different. In a good way. You take on the characteristics of the Kingdom of Heaven, not earth. And that's a process. It means that each day we work at getting rid of our immaturities and work at becoming more Christ-like. It's a journey. Much like the one Abram was called on.

Abram was called when he was 75. God didn't think that was too old to use Abram to change the face of history. Abram just had to be willing to take the risk and travel into the unknown. He had to be willing to be changed by his journey. For that's what journeys do--they change us.

It so happened that when I started preparing for this sermon I was just starting a book on the ancient practice of spiritual pilgrimage. The author surmises that we were meant to be pilgrims, not people who build cities. I believe we're meant to be both. We need to journey (both literally and metaphorically)--it expands our view of the world and it can be spiritually changing. We also need to root ourselves in community.

I'm not going to put my whole sermon here, but I'm still thinking about this journey thing. I know I'm still on one as I'm learning who God made me to be and what He has in store for me. And while journeys can be a bit scary as we don't know what lies ahead, but they're also exciting as we make exciting new discoveries. And through it we're changed--hopefully more into who Christ calls us to be.

Theme Week

I don't know if this ever happens to you, but sometimes God speaks in Sometimes a week comes together with a theme. The scripture passage from this past Sunday was the worry passage from Jesus' Sermon on the Mount:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:25-34, NIV)

It so happens that the weekly prayer that is said at the end of every prayer in The Divine Hours this week says:

Most loving Father, whose will it is for us to give thanks for all things, to fear nothing but the loss of you, and to cast all our care on you who cares for us: Preserve me from faithless fears and worldly anxieties, that no clouds of this mortal life may hide from me the light of that love which is immortal, and which you have manifested to us in your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

I will admit that worry isn't much of an issue for me right now. It has been clear that God is providing for us. So I think God has been saying other things in this "theme week." Like how there are times, when I look at the future anxiously. I'm not sure what's next for my life. I don't know what God will put before me next after I'm done being a stay-at-home dad. And I want to know; I want to have that mapped out. I want to have a clear calling for the next phase in life and vocation. But I'm not sure what's next. So I find myself being anxious at times.

And maybe apart from worrying, I spend too much energy in chasing worldly things that don't have lasting significance and instead distract my attention from God. Sometimes I forget to give thanks for all He has provided, instead taking it for granted that it will be there--or worse, finding a small way to credit myself.

Sometimes we need the comforting assurance that "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me." We need the reminder of the promise of His provision. And sometimes knowing "He watches me" is simply the reminder that I'm valuable in God's eyes. No matter what I do along the way, no matter how much I mess up at times, no matter how off my desires or focus can get--He loves me. And that won't change. That's not just the theme of a week, but of life--mine and yours.

Giving Thanks in the Midst of Bitterness

I admit that I'm more bitter today than I am thankful. I'm bitter that my wife has to work tomorrow so that we don't get to have Thanksgiving together. I'm bitter that God hasn't opened a door for her yet into her field, but that instead she's having to work through another menial job. I'm bitter that it doesn't pay enough to live on. I'm bitter that we've been whittling away at our savings again (it seems every time we get a little saved up something happens where we have to use it) to pay bills instead of paying off more of the mortgage. I'm frustrated I haven't been able to do more to help out. I'm bitter that she has to work irregular shifts instead of having regular hours so we can have a more scheduled life or so I could do some part-time work.

Yet, I am not without reason to give thanks. I have much for which to be grateful. Unfortunately, I don't do it enough. One day is not enough. Every day is not even enough. Thanksgiving must be more of a state of being--something we are all the time.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, thanking God is the surest way for an attitude change ("gratitude evaporates frustration"). We incorporate giving thanks into our prayer time with the boys each night. When they're having a bad attitude (greedy, selfish, etc.), we often have them name a few things they are thankful for.

And so I am thankful that my wife has found a place to work, and that for the most part it's been a healthy place. I'm thankful that God provided us with a house with payments cheaper than our rent. I'm thankful that we were able to receive a tax credit on the house so we can pay the bills right now. I'm thankful that I get time with my kids (and my niece and nephew). I'm thankful for a wonderful family, for an amazing wife and for kids who bring a smile to my face. I'm thankful for these things and so much more. And I'm feeling better already.

So, with this post I remind myself that I need to "give thanks in all circumstances." When I'm feeling down, frustrated, bitter or angry, I need to also take time to focus on what I have to be thankful for--but not just then. I'm working on cultivating a lifestyle of thanksgiving. It also helps me hold onto things more loosely, remembering that what I have is God's and that He gives me opportunities to bless others with it as well.

More Ellipses

(See the previous post for the first installment on ellipses)

This morning we saw Theater for the Thirsty perform their play "My Name is Daniel." It is, of course, a retelling of pretty much the entire book of Daniel from the Bible.

The story starts when Israel is lead away into captivity in Babylon...
Yes, there are those ellipses again. Daniel is part of that group lead into captivity. He is aware of the prophecy of Jeremiah which says that Israel be captured, Jerusalem will fall and they will be in captivity. For 70 years.

Daniel stays the course in a foreign land where many gods are worship through the reign of at least three rulers. He and his friends were pressured to give into the religious regulations of the land, but held firm to their beliefs. He would most likely never see his people released or his homeland again. That is life between the ellipses.

And through it all--through oppression, pressure, hopelessness--Daniel remains unwavering in his faith. Yes, Daniel was raised to important positions in Babylon (again and again after being forgotten by each subsequent ruler), but he still faced many hardships (remember that lions den ordeal?). I admire him for his steadfast faith. I hope I have the same.

Life Between the Ellipses

My facebook status today read that I was "reminded closed doors are an answer to prayer, though it can still hurt a little when they close on you."

A friend's response was: "..."

I replied, that "so much of life is lived between the ellipses (I think that might be the title of my next book)."

Side note: I am hereby claiming "Life Between the Ellipses" as a title for a book I will write (possibly co-author with my friend Tonya Toutge as she laid claim to writing it with me, and she was the author of "...").

An ellipsis (...) is used in writing to show an omission (usually in shortening a quotation) or to indicate a pause, hesitation or break. I probably overuse them--and probably inappropriately as well.

We sometimes have omissions in our sentences of life (don't worry, I'm not going to overdo that whole "life is a book" metaphor). I think more often we have those pauses, hesitations and breaks. Perseverance is a virtue. Waiting is a part of life. It often sucks. Sometimes the ellipses of life make up most of our life.

Life is also made up of living between the paradoxes (a seminary professor of mine already wrote a book about those paradoxes entitled Between Two Truths). One of those paradoxes is that we're called to be active--not passive--and we're also called to wait on God. We must discern when to act and when to wait patiently for God. Sometimes, living in the midst of paradox is where we encounter God, and sometimes we just have to wait...

Watching My Tongue

As my kids are getting older, I'm realizing more and more how I need to watch my mouth. Not because I use obscene language or anything in appropriate around them, but because I need to be more intentional in the words I use.

Anders frequently catches me when I tell him, "Just one second," and it takes more than one second. Sure, I use it as a figure of speech meaning give me a short amount of time to finish what I'm doing, but my son needs me to say what I mean.

I've been reading through Joan Chittister's The Rule of St. Benedict: Insight for the Ages lately. St. Benedict talks often about being intentional in what we say, and not saying it too readily or saying too much (in fact, he chastened monastics to not speak unless asked a question).

My lesson (as an introvert who doesn't have a problem in saying too much) is to speak with intent and with blessing. Saying "Have a good day," "See you later," or "How are you?" have little meaning. So, I'm asking myself, "What if I got rid of those meaningless phrases and said things that matter?"

"May you discover the blessings of this day."
"Our visit was a blessing for me; I hope we can do it again soon."
"What has God been teaching you today?"

It's really a shift in thinking. Or maybe just thinking instead of reacting, instead of saying what we say out of habit. So I know I won't get there right away. But I'm thinking about it. And I have a six-year old who will remind me when I have said something I don't actually mean.

Transformational Love

Our church series lately has been on Transformational Love. I was asked if I could write up a piece for the church blog. I thought I'd share it here as well (you can find the original here).

We recently moved to North Minneapolis. We're learning how small acts make a difference. One of our next door neighbors keeps schooling us on living in the "hood." She's probably trying to be helpful, but the way she talks spread fear rather than help.

The family that lives on the other side of her is a Hmong family. The parents speak little English, but our kids like to play together. They've expressed thankfulness that we're in the neighborhood. They've been very generous, sharing food with us.

Our neighbor right behind us is Ecuadorian. He's lived here for over a decade, but his accent is still thick and hard to understand at times. But he was one of the first people to welcome us to the neighborhood. He's offered to help us if we have vehicle problems again (we've had way too many for our budget in the last couple months).

Even when someone walks by and says "hello" or makes a comment on how the yard or house looks, it has a bigger impact on my day than someone who walks by without saying a word. (Of course, I have the choice on how I react to others, but my point is that even small acts of kind words have an impact on others.)

And this is my reminder as well. I can choose to say a small, kind word to someone, or I can just walk by silently. I can choose to help someone, or I can choose to ignore them. I can choose to speak fear or hate to someone, or I can choose to speak love to them. I can choose to just live in my neighborhood, or I can choose to love those around me and in doing so become an agent of transformation.

A few years ago I was the program director at a Bible Camp that served the Covenant churches in Iowa. I saw many lives changed by transformational love there. Often a kid would come for the week who had some "rough edges"--they didn't want to open up, enjoy camp or participate in activities. By little, by little, through patient loving acts, their counselor (or sometimes the other campers) got through to them. And so did Christ. By the end of the week their lives were changed, transformed. It was through the power of the Holy Spirit of course, but it also happened because someone kept doing small acts of love and not giving up when it wasn't returned.

Oddly enough, it seems that transformational love can truly only happen in community (or in building community). Which makes sense, because God doesn’t just love individuals (“For God so loved the world"), and He doesn’t just transform individuals. Yes, when we love others they can become transformed, but so can our whole community (and so can we).

Bullies

I took the boys to the splash pad recently to have some time with their friends there. Often when we go we find ourselves in the presence of the splash pad bully.

Here's what you need to know about the splash pad:
1. It is designed to be a fun place to cool off in the summer heat, primarily for younger kids who aren't able to go to the pool.
2. There are a lot of fountains and sprinklers and other things out of which water bubbles up or drips down.
3. There are also to nozzles (like on a fire hose) from which the users can douse each other liberally. They also pivot, providing a decent range in which to douse other people.

The splash pad bully is a kid much older than any of the other kids there. He positions himself at one of the nozzles and doesn't move. He has manipulated the pivot point enough that it shoots beyond its intended range--now able to reach into some of the lounge chairs where parents are watching their children from. He is indiscriminate in his targets: parents, toddlers, grandparents, babies, probably even small puppies with big eyes if they were allowed inside the fence.

Yes, if you're at the splash pad, you have to expect to get wet. I can't blame the kid for spraying other people. But at some point a kids needs to be shown boundaries: he needs to be taught why it's not okay for a twelve-year old to knock a toddler down with a stream of water. He also needs to be taught to share, that he can't just hog the nozzle during the duration of his visit to the splash pad.

I'm all for raising kids to be able to enjoy their neighborhood (a mom has a blog about raising Free Range Kids). But in order to have kids that you can trust to behave on your own I've never seen his parents around--at least, if they are around, they do nothing to correct his behavior. Other parents usually step in and ask the kid not to squirt them or to be mindful of the younger kids. But he seldom heeds their requests--at least not for long.

Now I know I'm making this event out to be bigger than it is. The truth is everyone still has fun. Anders actually liked it when the kid squirted him in the face. A few people who wanted to be dry got wetter than they wanted; a few babies may have cried for a short time, but they moved on and had fun.

The kid reminds me, though, that I can sometimes overstep boundaries in something that's enjoyable for me, but doesn't become enjoyable for someone else. Our culture often admonishes us to make ourselves happy and not worry about anyone else.

Scripture tells us differently. Our own happiness is good, but it should never come at the cost of others. God constantly tells us to seek justice and take care of the needs of those who need it--especially the orphan, the widow and the alien among us. Our western culture often puts us in a place of privilege (which is not a bad thing), but we must make sure that we aren't parking ourselves there and ignoring the needs of those around us. God raises people up so that they may help those who are still in the pit--in places where they can't help themselves get out of. Let's not just sit at the nozzle all day, hosing down everyone within reach (unless, of course, they're really hot and that's what they need).

Extraordinary Life

Our sermon series at church lately has been titled "A Life Less Ordinary." Our last three Sundays have focused on living lives of worship, growing deeper in community and living with purpose. The messages have been good and challenging.

An extraordinary life is something I strive to have, something I desire to be living. Ordinary life is draining and purposeless. Extraordinary life is filling and is Kingdom advancing. Ordinary life goes through the motions; extraordinary life is intentional, living out our credo to love God and love others as ourselves.

Extraordinary life sees everyday as a chance for worshiping God--even in risky circumstances and challenging times. Extraordinary life develops as we seek to grow more spiritually mature.

Extraordinary life seeks out intimacy with other believers, bringing redemption and reconciliation. It develops as week find our identity in Christ and live out His love to others--even others who are difficult to love (including ourselves).

Extraordinary life is lived with purpose. It interacts with others in a way that they are empowered to live out their God-given purpose as well. Extraordinary life has a testimony that needs to be shared, giving others the opportunity to be transformed in light of God's work in our life.

So, that's what I'm wrestling with in the last three weeks (and the weeks to come). If you find yourself also desiring a life less ordinary, maybe we can encourage each other on this journey.

I Tried out for Jeopardy!

I took an online test for Jeopardy! tonight to try and end up as a contestant on the show someday. It's a long shot. But I've always been encouraged to try it sometime, so I thought now is as good as a time as any.

The test gives you 50 questions to answer within a time periods of fifteen seconds each. That clock counts down far too quickly. And that doesn't include time for Alex Trebek to read the question for you.

Taking a trivia quiz like that is a good way of reminding yourself of how much you don't know. At least, that's what I found out. And this is always a good reminder. There aer old proverbs about how the wisest people are ones who are aware of how little they know.

I've always liked to learn things. I like to know things. The problem is that sometimes I don't use what I know. I've got tons of information about spiritual disciplines in my head, but I have a difficult time incorporating them in my daily living.

And knowledge is useless if it's not used, if it's not acted upon. So that is my goal. Whether or not I make it onto Jeopardy! and get to meet Mr. Trebek. I intend to use more of what I know.

From Moses to Joshua

Pastor Kevin preached today in church. His text was the last chapter of Deuteronomy into the beginning of Joshua. Those chapters chronicle the end of Moses' life (as well as leadership of Israel) and the beginning of Joshua's leadership. Moses had been with the people a long time. After leading them out of slavery in Egypt and through the delivering waters of the Red Sea, he spent 40 insufferable years with them in the wilderness.

First they complain that there is no water. God provides the water. Then they complain that there is no food. God provides the food. Then they complain that there is no water again.

They've seen God take care of them again and again, but they keep chiding Moses with how much better off they were in oppressive Egypt. It eventually gets to Moses. At one point, instead of commanding water from a rock, he strikes it. Twice. God is not pleased with Moses' disobedience, and he is not allowed to enter into the promised land. In fact, when he dies, Moses is 120 years old with perfect vision and leadership capacity. The negativity of the people has gotten to Moses too much. It's time for new leadership.

So Joshua is raised up. He grew up amidst the grumbling and complaining, he was the only one of the twelve spies besides Caleb who had scoped out the Promised Land and came back optimistic. God tells him to be strong and courageous as a leader. He repeats that admonition several times in the opening verses of Joshua.

Negativity creeps into our lives--at least it does mine, and I don't think I'm alone. It's easy to start thinking about how the economy has us down or a job loss or a troubled marriage or personal failures. The negativity of the culture around us becomes our own.

Let's head into what lies before us with boldness and courage, not listening to the negativity and grumbling around us, but with assurance that we can do all things through Christ who gives us the strength to do what He has called us to do (Philippians 4:13)

Time was Never Money

I was just listening to Switchfoot's song Gone / on the radio. One line says, "Life is more than money/ Time was never money/ Time was never cash."

I was reminded how a couple days ago our neighbor called to see if I could jump the battery on her car. She mentioned she was going to call a taxi to take her sister to the airport while she got the issue with her car taken care of. We said that we could do it (Beth didn't have to be in to work for a while, so we were available). Beth ended up driving her down; she was offered some money for the errand. Beth turned it down, of course. We didn't do it for the money.

People may say time is money. It's not. It's more than that. Time is love. We use our time for work to make money to pay our bills, sure, but we also do it because God has given us skills and passions and expects us to serve Him and others in that position--out of love. We give our time to our families because we love them. We serve others out of love. We give up our own time for others.

It's easy to get trapped into thinking that time is money. I can look at a purchase in reference as to how many hours I have to work (or my wife has to work, as the case may be) to pay for it. But that kind of thinking turns me away from helping others. I don't stop to help the person with the flat tire on their car because I don't have the time to do that (translate: it's not worth it to me).

How would my little corner of the world change if I started thinking of my time being an opportunity to love? And I followed Jesus example in giving love away?

New Year, New Life

The boys and I rang in the New Year in Des Moines. We drove down with my sister and niece on New Year's Eve. We reached my other sister's apartment a little after 10:30. Nils at least was still up until midnight. I was laying in bed trying to get them both asleep. It's a glamorous life.

We had Christmas with my mom's extended family on New Year's Day. The boys got to swim with the cousins on Saturday (once they opened the pool). And we arrived back home late last night. We went (since we could get a ride with my sister), knowing we won't have a lot of these Christmas gatherings left, and we don't get to go to them too often.

With that said, the New Year kind of came and went. The boys and I did take some time on New Year's Eve to remember what happened in 2009. I didn't focus too much, though, on the things I need to change and learn from. But I think I've kind of been doing that a lot in the past year, so they're in the back of my mind at least.

We've been to family gatherings over the past several weekends, so we haven't been in our own church for a while. It was good to be back so we can go there today. Pastor Efrem spoke on the Holy Spirit. It was a good message for starting a new year.

One of the basic affirmations that the Evangelical Covenant Church upholds is "a conscious dependence on the Holy Spirit." I don't think many of us have a good working knowledge of Who the Holy Spirit is, what He does and what he enables us to do. Actually, that was Efrem's premise for today: that in order for us to live more fully in the Spirit, we have to have a better knowledge of the Spirit. (And if you want that part of his sermon, it'll be posted here in not too long.) I know I turn less to the Holy Spirit than I do to the Son or Father. He's the most over-looked member of the Trinity in most Christendom (and over-emphasized in unhelpful ways in some parts). So, starting the New Year with a foundation of who the Holy Spirit is and what He does is a good place to start.

For me, the sermon was a reminder of what I desire for the year ahead: to live more in touch with God each day, which can only happen through a more conscious dependence on the Holy Spirit's indwelling in my life. Efrem commented today that "being Spirit-filled is like drowning in God's love." That sounds like the outcome of a good New Year's resolution to me.

The Scandal of This Day

We made it out to to a Christmas Eve service last night at Emmaus Road Covenant Church--just down the road from us. The message touched on something I've been thinking of lately: the scandal of Christmas. It's something difficult to wrap my mind around. God came to earth, clothed in human flesh, for the sole purpose of expressing His never-ending, never-changing love for us. The Creator of all the universe, the King of kings, was born not in a palace or even a temple of the gods. His parents weren't royalty or even of any importance. His lineage was of the line of King David, yes, but it also contained a prostitute, a incestuous relationship, a Moabite (who tainted the bloodline) and plenty of murderers and other sinners.

The King of kings was instead born in a barn (most likely a dark, dank cave) to unwed parents. He was surrounded by animals, his bed was a feed trough and he was miles away from home. His heavenly birth announcement wasn't sent to the governing officials or the elite. It went to shepherds out in the field in the middle of the night.

As the speaker at church last night made the point: the Light of the world came into a lightless cave, but the cave could not contain the Light (just as the Easter tomb cold not contain the Light).

In every major religion, the gods are untouchable. But on Christmas we celebrate that God came to earth to walk among us, to be one of us. He came in poverty, in an occupied nation, amidst suffering people. He would know our struggles and pains.

That is our God. That is Christmas. A celebration, a mystery, a scandal.

A Holiday Juxtaposition

My devotional reading lately is nearing the end of the Gospel of Matthew. Caiaphas and the other religious leaders have begun their plotting to do away with Jesus. The woman has poured perfume over Jesus' head, preparing him for burial. Judas has thirty new pieces of silver in his pocket. Golgotha is approaching.

It's interesting going through these events during Christmastide. Bethlehem is approaching. For that tiny baby whose birth we are about to commemorate, His destination was already written down in the prophecies of old. The manifestation of God's love for us--God Himself incarnate, dwelling among us, lowly and humbly--will one day experience one of the most cruel and brutal forms of execution ever invented.

Jesus came to us, born in a creche (which many say was probably a cave of sorts), lying in a feed trough, straw for bedding, lowly shepherd for visitors. He would end life similarly: laid to rest in a tomb (another cave in a hillside), swaddled in cloths, lowly women for visitors. And His entire life was about love. All He did was done in love. Indeed, He was love made flesh. What other gift can we ask for?