Playing Trucks and Dolls with God

The Christmas memories that I treasure most are littered with images of me on the floor in front of a lighted tree.  I have many wonderful mental snapshots in which I can see my dad setting up players in an electric football game, pounding a wooden slat into a hole on a small scale work bench, or pushing a fire truck in the direction of a pileup of unfortunate action figures.  But as the slide show continues, the pictures change to show me as the grown-up, taking a taste of one of my daughter's imaginary culinary masterpieces, helping my son save the world with one of his superhero action figures, or purposely trying to pick the wrong card in a game of matching images so that one of my little ones can experience the thrill of victory.

 

Those are the memories that make me smile.

 

It is interesting to note, however, that my joy was never truly completed by the game or toy I was playing with.  Sure, in my youth those things were special; but what made the moment truly meaningful, the thing that gave them the power to become immortal in my mind, was the fact that my dad was involved in the act of playing with them, with me.  And when I grew up and had children of my own, and when the toys lost the allure that they once had, the joy never diminished--I still found that pictures of joy were being forever etched in the photo album of my mind.  And if the truth be known, the joy of those moments of playing on the floor became even more exciting when the joy ceased to be dependent upon the toys that were involved. 

 

As a child, it was great to spend time rolling around on the floor with my toys and my dad.  I liked my toys, and I loved my dad--how could it get any better?  But as an adult, the joy was found in the idea that my children liked the toys--that they were happy with the things I had given them--and that they were willing to want me to share in the joy that they were experiencing.

 

When I think about God, I know that he gives us good things.  I also know that it pleases Him when we enjoy the gifts.  His joy begins with the happiness that His gifts bring to us.  The gifts mean nothing to God; our response to His presents is what matters.  When we appreciate God's goodness and generosity towards us, He smiles.  But I don't think His happiness is complete until we do one more thing.  That one thing is to get down on the floor and share the joy of our gifts with the One who gave us those gifts.

 

That, I am certain, is when God's joy is full.

 

And I think, it might be when ours is, too.

 

I think that is what Christmas is.  It is that picture of God, through Jesus, getting down on the floor of our world and playing with us.  It should make us happy to have Him interact in such a marvelous way.  And I know it makes Him happy when that wonderful interaction makes our joy complete.

Flaming Orange Seatshirts, Dog Chains, and "Soul Sisters" iron ons...or...What Would Oprah Do?

Many years ago (during my pre-teen life) I had a friend who was very influential.  I will call him "Dirk" because it sounds cool, and because it is not his real name (I am doing that names are changed to protect the innocent thing).  Dirk was the leader of our recess group (which carried over into social activities like attendance at football games,etc.) because he was smart, athletic, and really funny.  We all wanted to be a part of the fellowship that he led because of these qualities, and sometimes we were willing to compromise certain things like rationality and common sense in order to be a member of Dirk's inner circle.

 

There came a day when Dirk had an extraordinary idea.  He wanted to start a gang.  Keep in mind that we were early seventies elementary students and realize that the word "gang" in those days (at least for us) stood for something harmless.  And stupid. 

 

There was a group of four of us (counting Dirk) that comprised the gang.  We were his "band of brothers" and what Dirk suggested to us was based on a recent visit to  a local five-and-dime store.  He had seen "the coolest sweatshirts" on sale that were bright (even blinding) orange.  He thought that we should all have one.  He also spotted a great deal on dog chains that could be attached to a belt loop and which Dirk believed would accessorize our bold colors with strength.  Finally, and best of all, there were some iron-on patches that were in a clearance bin for fifty cents each.  It was those patches that would give us our name and our identity.  And, he informed us, the only patch for which at least four were available read, "Soul Sisters."

 

I don't want to insult anyone or anything now, and at that time such a feeling was the last thing on our mind.  Dirk thought that Soul Sisters was a cool name.  He thought that the patch was cool.  He thought that the color of the sweatshirt was cool.  He thought that the dog chain would look cool as a part of the "uniform," and Dirk also thought that it would be cool if all of us bought those things and wore them (with the Soul Sisters iron-in boldly plastered on our chests) when we hung out together in places that were not school.

 

So, because Dirk was the "prophet of cool" to our small group, we all went shopping.

 

Over the course of life I have discovered that other people have the same kind of influence on people that Dirk had.  They might not have gangs, but they do have television and radio shows.  They tell us what to think, what to eat, and what not to wear.  Perhaps the most obvious personality in this encouragement by cool people came in a segment called "Oprah's Book Club."  This was a television recommendation by a really nice lady that hosted a ridiculously adored talk show that told us what books we should fork over our hard earned money to buy and...read.  And because her thoughts on what was good meant so much to people, many otherwise unknown literally works became huge best-sellers.

 

While I now know that I should not listen have listened to everything that Dirk said, I also know that I should not be so influenced by the encouragements of the world.  When I think of my parents, I know that they had to wonder about my decision to follow Dirk's lead.  While they did not make me refuse to purchase the products that would "make me cool," they certainly had other ideas as to what advice I should listen to.  They wished I would know that their words were better advice.

 

The main concept here is that we listen to things (like orange sweatshirts) that are bad advice.  God, however, simply tells us to listen to him.  "I am smarter than Dirk, book lists, your wardrobe, etc.  Just listen to me.

God has a warning in the Psalms that we shouldn't listen to the counsel of the ungodly.  About the definition of "ungodly," I would suggest that it simply means people who don't think that God exists...and if they do...who don't think that God should have any say about how we behave in the world that He created.

The only thing I am saying is that God is wisdom.  He understands what is smart and not so smart about His creation.  And I think that even though He rarely forces Himself on us, He does wish that we would sometimes look at Him and say, "What should I do?"

I am pretty sure that He might discourage bright orange sweatshirts, dog chains, and clearance rack iron-on patches.  While Dirk was a really great friend, I am pretty sure that His wisdom was rarely based upon the recommendations of God.  And as I look back from my current vantage point, I can find at least one glaring episode to use as proof.

Sorry Dirk.

Running into God at the Supermarket Checkstand

There are a great many people that I know.  Some I call acquaintances, some I call associates, and others I call friends.  Actually I would consider almost all of the people in these categories to be friends, but most of them would have a qualifying label added--something like "casual."

 

I like most of the people that I cross paths with from day-to-day during the course of work, shopping, church, etc.  I think that most of them like me and when we greet each other with a "Hello" or short conversation, it is typically pleasant and worthwhile.  However, few of them will end up attending ball games or family events with me.  Fewer of them will call me on the phone to share their latest triumph or tragedy.  The reality of life is that most of us have many "friend" relationships that are like that, but only a small handful of really close, intimate friends.

 

It isn't that we are all jerks and don't want to have more deep bonds of friendship, rather, it is simply a matter of the economy of time--there aren't enough hours in a day to invest deeply into all of the relationships that we encounter.  Even as I write this blog, my dog, Jack, is bouncing a rubber ball at my feet and insisting that I repeatedly wrestle it from him and then throw it down a tiled hallway so that he can pursue it.  I keep telling him that I am busy.  Jack is a really good friend of mine (and I do spend a great deal of time with him), but often (even now), I have to insist, to his dismay, that I have other things to take care of.  Taking friendships to more personal levels takes time that might be required elsewhere, and energy that might have never existed.  That is why all of us must limit our very close friendships, even if we wish we did not have to.

 

It is the fact that intimate friendships require time, effort, and energy that makes them so special.  When someone invests those things in us, they are making a powerful statement that we are worth it.  Of all of the things in life that they could choose to treat as special, they have decided that we should be on the list.  That says many things.  It might say that we are kind, responsible, helpful, and maybe even valuable...but I think the most important thing might be that they like us and want to include us in the very serious committment of life.  That is profound.  And it is an incredible compliment.

I wonder sometimes, however, about our friendship with God.  Is He just someone that we pass with a wave on the street, but quickly move on by because we don't have time to talk?  Do we call Him in the evening with a recap of the challenges of our day, and maybe to discuss our dreams and aspirations?  Or do we not have the time to invest because it is already being put into the "big football game on television" fund?  And when we go places, do we ever bother to invite Him along?

The real question is this: is God a casual friend, or the dearly cherished sharer of our heart and life?  It takes time to let God be our confidant.  It takes energy.  It takes investment.  When we give those things, however, I am certain that God is happy, honored, and complimented.  Our real friendship is meaningful to Him.  And when we give it, I am sure that He is more than willing to give His in return.

That is a pretty strong rate of return on our investment.

You Are What You Eat

I recently listened to the beginning of a thirty-minute infomercial (or program, according to the host) and heard a great deal about the rise of obesity.  And I was told that the reason has less to do with how much I eat or how little I exercise than it does to do with something my body is missing.  Apparently the culprit is corn syrup which my body is not able to correctly metabolize.  The remedy, I was assured, could be found by using a product that I could get for free (at first), after which I would receive it for a "ridiculously" low price.  The product contains something (I can't remember what) that will supposedly help my body properly respond to all of the things that are in foods sold at your typical grocery store.

 

While I did not buy the product, nor did I believe all of the claims, I suppose that many of the things I was told were true.  I understand that our bodies require certain things in order to obtain favorable results.  While we are not literally what we eat, our bodies definitely respond to what they take in.  Good things bring positive results, bad things have negative consequences.

 

I know that I need water to survive.  My body functions begin to break down without it.  And sleep is another thing that causes all of my systems to operate at their most effective levels.  Without it, my body begins to do weird things.

 

In Ephesians 5:18, the apostle Paul tells us "...but be filled with the Holy Spirit."  I cannot help but believe that this is important to my spiritual effectiveness.  If I do not fill my body with the proper and necessary spiritual nutrition, my spiritual self will begin to experience fatigue and failure, and will ultimately break down completely.  The spiritual body is very similar to the one made of flesh.

 

In that passage, the literal idea is to "keep being filled," as in an ongoing process.  We are being told that you don't just take one spiritual meal and think your spiritual self is healthy for life.  Staying healthy is something that takes continual effort.  Even the man on the informercial told me that I should keep ordering his product to keep the process of physical wellness going.  And I know that I can't just drink water today, then skip a few months.  The refreshment of sleep does not last longer than a day, either, and to be at my best, I must continue to give my body some of it every day.

 

I am certain that God has given us these things so that we can see how a continual intake of good things keeps us operating at a highly effective level.  But God has also intended for us to see spiritual things in pictures of our life.  Wouldn't it make sense, then, to see the clear picture of feeding on spiritual things and resting in them on a regular basis in order to function at our spiritual best?

 

Earthly parents want healthy and effective physical children.  Our Heavenly Father certainly wants the same for His spiritual children.  Knowing that taking in more of the best spiritual things makes us that way, He offers His own Holy Spirit to us so that we might be filled regularly with all of His perfection.

 

Maybe we should spend a little more time being filled with the good thing that He offers.  This makes us healthy, and it makes God happy.

Marking My Territory

My dogs, Jack and Sophie, love their walks.  They enjoy any road that I take them on, but the place that they seem to most enjoy visiting is Manito Park--a beautifully landscaped mix of water, flowers, and dirt trails a couple of miles from our home.

On their walks, Jack and Sophie like to do the common dog things.  They sniff, they bark, they strut, and they do their personal business.  Sometimes that business is a physical requirement, but often, it is far more significant than the relieving of a bladder: it is an intentional effort to mark a certain spot as their own--to claim it as a territory.  I suppose it is a dog's way of sticking a flag into the ground.

Jack, as the boy, is funny to watch because he just walks around and lifts his leg on things that apparently do not smell as if they belong to him.  Then, after he walks away, Sophie approaches the same spot that Jack has just marked.  With a deliberate squat, she erases Jack's ownership and puts her own seal in place.  Then she moves on.  Who knows how long it will be before the next canine comes by and relieves Jack and Sophie of all their real estate claims? 

It is interesting to note that my dogs never actually own any land.  It doesn't matter how many times they sprinkle on any particular patch of grass or dirt, they will never own it.  I give Jack and Sophie a yard to run in.  And I take them to parks to play in.  They like what they see and say, "This is mine.  I claim it with the magic of my pee."  But the spot never actually becomes theirs, no matter how strongly they might believe otherwise.  The yard and the park are only beautiful places that I have given them, or taken them to, for their enjoyment.  My sharing beautiful things with them does not create possession.  In a minute, an hour, a day, or a few years, they will have to leave their claim behind.  It has served its purpose of bringing them enjoyment. 

This world is not our home.  God gave it to us to find enjoyment in, but also so that we might see how wonderful a gift-giver He is.  I can put a flag in it, throw money at it, and even pee on it--but it won't matter: I can never own the world or the things in it.  I can only enjoy them for a little while, in the process learning to love the actual owner and the giver of all things.  Then I will move in.

I hope that Jack and Sophie do not like the places that I take them better than they like me.  And I hope that they will learn to love me more because of the joy I find in blessing them.

I think God hopes we do not like this world more than we like Him.  And I think that He hopes we learn to love Him more richly because we are fully aware that He is the giver of all good things.

Resisting Green Eggs and Ham

We all know the Dr. Seuss book about a creature who offers a strange meal to his friend.  The offer is declined.  Throughout the course of the story, the same offer is made in the midst of a variety of circumstances.  The refusals grow more insistent as the situations become more animate.  Eventually, however, weariness sets in and the food is consumed.  It seems that the creature finally accepts the offering only to get the insistent friend off of his back, but it turns out that the food is actually quite enjoyable and pleasing to the palate.  While this is a surprise to the receiver, the giver of the food knew the truth all along.  And since he just wanted to do something good for his friend, he fought through the ignorant resistance until his friend agreed to be blessed.

 

I resist a great many things in my life that would benefit me.  I resist exercise and proper healthy foods.  And today, while I was planning to compose this post, I resisted the urge to stop playing computer games and do something worthwhile.  Once I finally gave in and closed the window on my game, I rediscovered the joy that I find in writing about things that are important to me.

 

I resist the urge to use reading glasses, even though they make my reading experience far more pleasant.  I resist the urge to do projects around my house, but when I finally do get around to doing them, I feel a strong sense of satisfaction that I would not have known had I not fought through the resistance.

 

Some people refuse to give in to technology, but for many who have taken the time to learn how computers and cell phones work, there are new capabilities at their fingertips that had not been previously available.  And some people resist the urge to be done with their education as soon as they have a high school diploma--those people find that life is constantly presenting new opportunities to them.  Though it might have been difficult to fight through the resistance, they are glad that they did.

 

Resistance to new possibilities keeps us from finding new and wonderful things.  Those who care about blessing our lives, however, insist that we work through the challenges.  They know what waits on the other side is good...and they want us to find it.  So, as long as we resist, they persist in their encouragement.  What breaks their heart, however, is when we never do take possession of the best things that are available to us.

 

Whenever I read the Gospels, I feel the frustration that Jesus must have been tormented with.  He was offering mankind the very love of the Father in Heaven, but most of the people simply refused to embrace the wonderful joy that was being offered.  When he said things, his hearers simply thought, "This is too hard...too strange...too much work.  I won't eat the bread that you offer."

 

God is not Sam I am, He is, "I AM."  He offers His love towards all of us.  It is the most wonderful thing that could ever be given; but because it might require us to fight through resistance (and that can be hard), we simply accept that resistance.  Like the giver of the Green Eggs and Ham, God knows that what He offers is the greatest thing you can ever imagine.  But will you take the plate and eat?  When you don't, the loss that you experience breaks His heart.

 

The good news, however, is that the love and joy that you find in your existence does not depend on the resistance of the world...it simply depends on your willingness to work through it and find God on the other side.  That is the place where you can find that God's joy is your joy.

 

Why would anyone reject such a God?

Weeds and Flowers

Jesus told a story in which a landowner planted good wheat in his field, but at night an enemy came and planted tares.  Most of us don't grow wheat and the word "tare" doesn't mean much.  Maybe the best way for us city-dwellers to look at this story is to suggest that we planted good flowers one Memorial Day Weekend, and somebody who doesn't like us came and planted weeds in the middle of our beautiful array of colors.

Let me tell you what I know about weeds.  First, I know that I hate them.  Second, I know that no one really has to come and plant them in my field (they simply appear by magic).  Also, I know that they have big thick roots.  While it is easy to accidentally remove a flower with my little spade, some weeds cannot be removed without a backhoe.  I also know that I don't have to water my weeds for them to grow in strength.  They are not weak and dependent like flowers, but are strong and persistent.  I also know that sometimes they disguise themselves as flowers, and because they look so pretty, I don't remove them.  Sometimes, however, this little deceit on their part makes me remove flowers that I think are weeds.  

Anyway, weeds are strong and independent.  They don't require pampering.  They have to be removed at the root if you want them to stay away, but they make sure that that is not an easy chore.  They are also sneaky.

But here's what struck me the other day as I was weeding, and I think it looks a great deal like the weeds that are in the flower bed of my heart: weeds are selfish.

I say this because they just jump anywhere in the dirt that they feel like going.  They don't care if there is grass or flowers or shrubs--weeds go wherever they like.  While flowers tend to stay right where I put them (they might grow upward if I am lucky), weeds like to go right where they are not supposed to be.  They see the place in the dirt where I have planted the pretty flowers and they say, "I want to live there."  And when they tell the flowers to move, they don't say "Please."

So, as I see it, it is selfish weeds that destroy the beauty of a physical garden.  And in the beautiful spiritual garden that God has planted in my life, it is usually weeds that destroy God's desire for the landscape of my heart.

This summer I have had to pull weeds almost every day.  When I don't pull them, they take over.  If the pretty flowers that also live there do not die, they are at the very least, hidden.

I also need to pull the selfishness out of the spiritual garden of my heart every day.  If I don't, I risk hiding the beauty that God has put there, if not destroying it all together.

Selfishness is a weed.  It appears out of nowhere, needs no sustenance to survive, and takes whatever it wants.  The question then is, "Will I let it destroy my garden?  Or will I strive to pull it out of the roots of my life each and every day?" 

If I care about being spiritually beautiful, I will choose the latter. 

My Dogs, Jack and Sophie, Meet a Big Dog

Today Jack and Sophie (my dogs) were visited by a very big dog, a beast that was at least four times the size of both of them put together.  Though they normally make a great deal of noise around the house, today, they were silent.  I suppose that this is because they were hiding and the big dog was lurking. 

My canines assumed that the visitor was an enemy.  He intended to take their food, their freedom, the love of their master, and possibly their lives.  Though he was actually a very nice and well-behaved creature, I do understand how they arrived at their conclusions.

First, the dog liked to play, and playing with a seventy-pound dog feels a great deal more hostile than playing with one that weighs ten.  Every touch feels like a powerful attack, even if it is well-intentioned.  And a mouth that is big enough to swallow whole dogs can never show its teeth playfully.  And when a big dog wants food, it assumes that the contents of all bowls are theirs for the taking.  It might just be energy and hunger, but to a small dog, every act of a much larger enemy feels like malicious intent.

This picture reminds us that we ought not to judge others by their appearance, and I could very easily conclude this post by saying that other people might mean well towards us, even when it doesn't look like us.  But there was something else that I noticed today which lead me to a conclusion that might be more important concerning God.

In the process of the day, I spent much of my time steering the "enemy" away from Jack and Sophie.  I did this with the disbursing of pats on the head and treats, and the calling of the other dog's name.  It was a course of activity that kept me very busy.  But I was busy with the big dog, and I had to wonder if Jack and Sophie were feeling neglected, even wondering if I liked the "intruder" better than I liked them.  I wonder if they felt betrayed.

While I seriously doubt that all of these thoughts were processed logically, I am sure that they felt slighted and neglected, and really did wonder why I was not able to give them the attention that I normally would have.  In essence (in a dog's way), I think they might have been judging my actions as much as they were judging the other dog.  In doing so, however, I am pretty sure that they never once stopped to consider that I was paying more attention to the big dog than I was to them because I was trying to keep them safe from the real danger--which was only the uncontrolled size of the guest.

When I think of God and how He sometimes seems to pay more attention to other people than to me, I wonder if I judge His motives as simply as my dogs might have been doing.  I sometimes see His actions in other people's lives as an indication that He loves them more than He loves me.  What I have never considered, until today, is that He might be concerned with what is going on with others in order to keep them from being a danger to me.  He might be blessing or disciplining someone, just to keep them away from me.

I realize this is an abstract thought.  I can't prove it, but in some instances I can see that it makes a great deal of sense when I really think about it.  It does with Jack and Sophie.  If you know me, you know that I love my dogs and will do whatever it takes to keep a big dog from harming them, even if that harm takes place accidentally.

What is not an abstract thought, however, is that we do tend to judge God's actions toward us and others with a view that lacks knowledge and insight.  What God does with His children (and with dogs, maybe) is try to protect them with whatever means is necessary.  He will always love me, and every action that He takes will be consistent with that love.  If I keep that in mind, I will scarcely be able to imagine that He is giving others preferential treatment.

Keep in mind, that when it comes to the love of God, there are no big dogs or little dogs.  There are no big children or little children.  With the love of God, it is one size for all.  Big.

My Dog Jack: The Joy of a Tummy Rub

I frequently get out of the shower and step into my bedroom to find my dog, Jack, waiting patiently for my arrival.  Usually he is on the bed, laying on his side with his his head down.  When he sees me, his response is to wag his stub of a tail rapidly up and down against the mattress.  He is a Jack Russell/Poodle mix which has resulted in wire-like fur and long, dangly legs.  He won't win trophies for having a handsome frame, but he always wins my heart with his soft eyes that lock with mine and demand affection.

I can't help myself.  I always have to sit beside Jack for a few minutes and rub his stomach.  I also scratch behind his ears and under his chin.  He always sighs with gratitude when I do this, and when I look into his eyes, I know that they are saying, "This is the best part of my day."

My dog, Jack, keeps busy around the house.  He has nowhere to go, but he is always moving in and out through the back door anyway.  And he has many balls and toys which he constantly drops for me to throw or wrestle him for.  Jack also spends alot of time teasing his sister dog, Sophie.  And he always has to be on watch to beg or to clean up any scraps that might be dropped on the kitchen floor while a meal is being cooked.  Yes, Jack's life is filled with wonderful events: but the appreciation he exhibits every time he gets a tummy rub and ear "scritches," makes it clear to me that those are the times when he is happiest.  Those are the moments that make his joy complete.

Of course, I see God in this.  I have a great life with many wonderful blessings, but none of them make me quite as happy as those times when God sits beside me and "rubs my tummy."  I like the ear "scritches," quite alot, too.  If you have ever waited for God and He came, taking the time to share gentle affection, you know that there is no other experience that produces such satisfaction.

But there is something else that we ought to consider: when I rub Jack's tummy and see how happy it makes him, I find that I, too, become happy.  The more joy that Jack receives, the more appreciation he exhibits towards me.  And when this happens, my joy increases to a point where it might even be greater than Jack's.

This picture shows us what most of us have experienced at some time in our life, and that is the old axiom that "giving is better than receiving."  But what I want to focus on today is not our giving (we always have opportunity to do that); rather, I want to focus on the joy that God experiences when He has the opportunity to share His affection with us.

The question, however, is this: do we ever sit and wait for God to come into the room?  If we are not there upon His arrival, how will He ever be able to give and receive the satisfaction that comes from sharing His divine affection with us? 

The thing is, you can give God unspeakable joy today.  And to make that happen, all that you have to do is let Him touch your life with his unspeakable joy.  

It's a pretty good trade. 

I Can't Hear You

Do you remember disagreements when you were a small child that would escalate to the point where you would plug your ears and say, "I can't hear you!  I can't hear you!"?  Now we have grown up and don't use the same tactics, but do we really listen any better?  I don't think so.  All that you have to do is look at the political landscape and see how people on every side of an issue drown out dissenting viewpoints with name calling and loud rantings.  It isn't just Republicans who do it, and it isn't just Democrats--it is all of us.

The natural inclination of all humans is to believe that our opinion is the one that is based in truth.  When other people have different ideas, we take it personally, and see it as an attack. So, if we don't punch the "idiot" that disagrees with us, we do at least block out the "noise" with unintelligible sounds of our own. 

I would like to say that it is just "all of you" that do this, and that I am innocent, but I am one of the worst perpetrators of the crime of "always having to be right."  It is a horrible crime because it demeans the integrity of the individual against whom it is committed, but it is also dangerous.  And the reason that it is dangerous is because it puts an immediate end to any future dialogue.

Shutting down dialogue is harmful for many reasons.  One is that the input of a second party might keep us from doing something that will ultimate cause problems.  Another is that the insight of that party might also help us to see an answer that is beneficial.  Those are two really good reasons to take the time to listen to what someone else has to say.  You might not always experience wisdom from a second viewpoint, but sometimes you will.  Closing your ears means that that will never happen.

Jesus frequently said, "He that has ears to hear, let him hear."  Allow me to give my loose paraphrase of that statement:  If you have ears, then you should be listening with them.  Their purpose is not to provide a hole in which to put your fingers.

When Jesus used this phrase, he was suggesting that people were plugging their ears when God was trying to speak to them.  That pretty much defeats the real purpose of ears: hearing.  Sure, they are for hearing people, but more importantly, they are given to hear God.  Maybe we should use them more often.

If anyone is going to give me advice on how to stay out of trouble and then on how to experience good things, it is probably God. 

I spend a great deal of my life making my own noise and drowning out God.  And I put my fingers in my ears alot when God disagrees with me.  That means I am shutting down a dialogue with God.  Maybe that isn't a good idea.

I do, after all, "have ears to hear."  Maybe I should "let them hear."

Complicated Things For Simpletons (Like Me)

In a few minutes I will be clicking on a small icon on this page that says "Publish."  When I do that, all of the words that I have written will be discharged from my computer, and they will fly into space; and then they will fall down on your computers to be read. 

I hope I have not gone over your head with my technical jargon.

Obviously, I jest.  Processes that I cannot even imagine will take place, but I don't care.  If I were to say that I have kept up with modern technology, what I would really be saying is that I have learned which buttons to push and which icons to click.

I like many of the things that smarter minds than I have figured out how to do.  I like pushing a button that lets me watch a football game taking place two-thousand miles away.  I like seeing my daughters on my monitor while we talk, even though they are in other parts of the country.  I like the button on my microwave that will transform hard kernels into popcorn in three minutes.  I like driving a car that takes me places just because I turned a key.

What I am saying is that I am grateful to all of those smart people who understand how things work, and who have taken the time to develop a simple method of operation for those of us who don't.  I am a simpleton in most things electrical, mechanical, and technological; but thankfully, I am still able to enjoy the fruits of other people's labor, skill, and knowledge.

The creators of phones and cameras and computers and cars and lights all want me to experience their discoveries.  They want to let me in on their work, and they hope I will delight in it.  So, they have designed simple processes that I can understand, which allow me access to their products, even though I have not an inkling of what makes them work.

I think God is this way.  Humans operate on a very limited understanding of how God works.  Like in the workings of a computer, we have no idea of the complexities in which He operates.  Nevertheless, God wants us to enjoy Him.  And He makes it simple.  Push the button "Love" or the one next to it that says "Pray."  There is another that says "Be Kind" and one that says "Help Others" and one that says "Forgive and Show Mercy."

While God expects us to learn and grow in relationship to Him, I am firmly convinced that all of the right buttons and icons are within easy reach in the place where we are.

I think that we often make knowing God hard, but we don't have to.  He has made it simple.

Hidden Secrets of the God Game

     I have played a few video games in my life.  I liked the "dinosaur" games (the ones created in my youth and not the ones containing prehistoric creatures) more than I like the ones that are on the market today; they were simpler.  There was a joystick with only one or two buttons which usually shot a duck or launched a guided missile in the general direction of what I was aiming at on the screen.  As the controllers have evolved, however, there are more knobs and buttons than I have fingers.  And there are more functions that they perform, independently or in some sort of combination, than I have brain cells.  So, I don't play as much, because I don't want my games to be work.  I did try to keep up for awhile, and before I gave up in total "exasperationexaustion" (my word--if you use it, please send me money) I learned that the games themselves are more complex than the controller.

     It turns out that you don't see the whole game.  There are hidden things.  Secrets and surprises that linger in some other-gaming-world-level, that are lurking and waiting to be found.  First off, let me complain: I do not think that the games I purchase should let things lurk or hide from me.  They have my cash, so I should be given easy access to the secrets and surprises I have already paid for.  Okay, I got that off of my chest.

     Anyway, it turns out that games have manuals.  They are like textbooks.  They tell you things you should look for, how you can get to those things, and how you actually go about possessing them.  Do you know there are chatrooms and websites devoted to all of the little wonders that can be discovered in certain games?  And people spend days just trying to digest all of the little tips that will help them get those treasures.  Usually they are looking for treasures that will give them power and energy.

     I often think about the initial search for God--the one where you think He might be out there somewhere, and the one that you would like to find and get to know about in order to feel His power and energy (or love), and how confusing it seems at first.  I admit, if He were a video game, I would have quit Him; but finding His treasure is a great deal more important than jumping on a mushroom.

     Here's the thing--He has a tech manual that we can read that gives us a great deal of help.  There are also alot of people who have spent time studying the manual and have learned enough to share some tips in books or maybe on MP3.  Did you know that there are also websites on your computer where you might also get a few tips?  And there are chatrooms where friends and family (or even strangers) might be able to give you some pointers.  And, if you are really desperate, you might talk to someone in person.

     I also happen to know that God is always willing to enter into a personal chatroom with just you.  Amazing, but true.

     The question then is this: How badly do I want to discover God's wonderful secrets and surprises?  If you make it important, God guarantees that it will be worth your while.

Undercover God

Hebrews 4:15-16
"For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.  Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need."


     There is a program on television called Undercover Boss.  Maybe you have seen it.  The premise is simple: a CEO or owner (or some other high ranking official) of a business takes a position as a lower level employee while keeping his/her identity hidden.  He or she does this with the intention of discovering many things.  What is most important to the disguised worker is to gain new insight about ways to make the business more appealing to the public, and to create a work environment which builds employee morale and encourages a positive work ethic.  The idea is to make those responsible for the "backbone" of the work feel important and appreciated, so that they will be happy and productive in the performance of their service, and more likely to remain with the company.  The premise of the show, then, is that in order to understand the heart of an often overlooked worker, the undercover boss must become one.  He/she must walk in those shoes in order to experience that heart.
     If you are like me, it is a concept that resonates clearly.  I work for the Postal Service, which is a very large corporation, and I freely confess that not many days go by without some new idea or task being presented to the workers as "This is how we are going to do it now," and when I hear this I often grumble right along with my co-workers.  I say something like, "They (those up aboves who sit in offices) have no idea how things work down here." Admittedly, sometimes their ideas work and sometimes they don't, but I would relish the opportunity to have them perform my duties for a while so that they could at least sympathize with my reservations.  Don't we all wish people could see through our eyes sometimes?  Where we are at in our job becomes far more meaningful when our perspectives and feelings are understood and considered, even if they do not ultimately win the day.  It is an act that lets us know that we matter and assures us that someone cares.
     Our bosses know more about our jobs than we give them credit for, but we don't give them a pass because they have "head" knowledge.  It is "heart" knowledge that wins our approval.  I think that is what Undercover Boss is all about.

     Some people think that God is distant and remote.  We have this image of a being somewhere up in the sky who sees our planet and knows how it works.  But we see this being as distant and aloof to how we feel in the mechanical workings of creation.  This makes it hard for us to feel important and appreciated.
     In Hebrews 4:15-16, we are told that Jesus came to change that.  He came to walk in the same world that often walks on us.  Being God, he knew how the world operated because he made it, but he wantedd to experience how we felt in it.  He did not do this so that he could say, "Been there, done that" or "I was perfect...you be perfect," but instead, he did it so that he could sympathize and comfort us in our trials because he understands how hard life can be sometimes.
     So, if you watch a program that shows bosses (who are ultimately about profit margins) submitting themselves to humiliation in order to feel what their employees feel, and you can believe that it is true, then why should it be a stretch to believe that God (whose profit is you) would do the same?
     And if you think that no one understands what you are going through, spend a little time talking to God.  You might discover that you have more in common than you ever imagined.

Talking to Myself Does Not Constitute a Conversation

I talk too much.

This is not a revelation to my family and friends.  They have all had to sit and listen while I grabbed a conversation by the throat and proceeded to strangle it.

Sorry about that.

It should comfort you, if only a little, to know that I am aware of my lack of listening skills and to understand that I really am making a conscious effort to change them.  I don't intend to take control of every verbal intercourse, and I feel terrible about myself whenever it happens...but changing is not easy.

Let me make an honest confession: one reason I talk so much is because I have a personal bias towards my opinions--I tend to think my thoughts are always logical and correct.  I will feel the same way about your opinions as long as they agree with mine.  Anyway, there is a disillusioned part of me that believes you are getting a special favor when you are given my thoughts.

Again, I apologize for being so stupid, selfish, and closed-minded.

But there is another reason that I often dominate conversations, and it is one that you quiet people can share the blame on: some people just don't talk.  I am not saying that is always bad, but considering that conversations require verbal interaction from more than one party, saying nothing when you are with another person pretty much assures that conversation won't happen.  It also guarantees that someone like me will grow uncomfortable with the silence and will feel the need to fill it with awkward banter.

The quiet person will think, "I wish they would shut up" and the talkative one will be praying for the other party to "say something!"

The point of this post is not that I talk too much, but rather, it is intended to recognize that my talking too much, kills conversation.  And, it is to point out that other people's lack of input also kills conversation.  This is not to tell you how much to say and how much not to say, because that will obviously vary with the depth of the relationship; but it is to challenge us to be sensitive during times of communication to know when to listen and when to speak.  It is to remind us that relationships will grow in direct proportion to how well we learn to interact with the other parties involved.

It amazes me then, that when we consider a relationship with God, most of us either talk all the time (giving our recommendations and demands), or we only listen (thereby denying God the pleasure of having a relationship with a people willing to share their hearts).

I believe I have to talk less and listen more.

I believe some people might want to share a little more freely.

And most important of all, I believe that God would like to have regular conversations with each of us that involve both talking and listening.

From Drama to the Doldrums

Just yesterday, my son commented that I hadn't added a post to this blog recently.  He wondered if I hadn't found any new inspiration.  After I thought about this, I had to admit that, even though I had not been consciously aware of an inspiration drought, his observation was spot on.

I figured something out: if you want to have new insight into your physical and spiritual existence, you might want to have open heart surgery.  There is just something about having your entire state of being thrown into uncertain upheaval that makes you want to take stock of everything.  And if you had started a blog just prior to the procedure, you would find that ideas came looking for you, rather than the other way around.

But after all of the "excitement" of surgery, things start to return to normal.  No longer was I forced to think about staying alive and making dramatic changes to my lifestyle.  No longer was the path to my door beaten down by people who wanted to do nice things for my family.  So, I just relaxed and got on with the slow, boring act of letting my body heal.

    

What has happened in that time has been uninspiring.  I look at food labels and try to eat well.  I take naps.  I watch some television.  I make phone calls and pay a few bills.  I walk around the block.  I watch the weeds in my yard grow and feel guilty when my neighbor mows my grass.  I tell my dogs to quit barking.  I take my medicines.  I ride in the car with my wife to the store, and I walk with her around the block on a regular basis.  What I am saying is this: I go about the business of living life.  And I do it with purpose--I am letting my body heal.  It's boring, but it is essential.  Few things regarding my future matter as much as how well I deal with the very "unexciting" now.

I spent twelve years of my life in school.  I went to boot camp when I was in the military.  I was potty trained as a child.  None of these things were exciting or fun at the time, but they all played key roles in making me the man that I am today.  I am thankful for the times in my life that I was troubled with them.

Sometimes living a spiritual life is thrilling.  Sometimes living for God is dramatic and fun.  Usually,  however, it isn't.  Most of the time, living a spiritual life is determined by how well we respond to the God in the physical.  Finding and loving God in the day-to-day, in the drudgery, will ultimately determine how we find and love Him in the dramatic. 

And if we are looking for the God that is real, shouldn't we expect to best see Him in the pictures of real-life?  The only God that matters is the God that meets us where we are. 

Purpose: Before and After

One month ago I ate pizza and greasy cheeseburgers because I liked pizza and greasy cheeseburgers.  And I ate bowls of ice cream because cups are too small.  I stayed away from doctors because I didn't have time to sit in waiting rooms, and I didn't bother worrying about things like cholesterol levels and blood pressure because I was too young for such concerns.  I did exercise some, but when I did, it was all about vanity: it wasn't about being healthy as much as it was about trying to look good.

     I tried not to be a selfish person, but when I get right down to the nitty gritty, my life was mostly concerned with the purpose of me being happy.  It was a process that nearly destroyed my heart.

    My surgery on March 20 was unexpected.  Some good medical people caught my coronary problems and saved me from death.  They also took the canvas that displayed my purpose in life and drew a line right down the middle.

     I am not going to make this cryptic or difficult because the division was clear.  On one side of the line was the place where my heart served the lazy, self-indulgent interests of me.  It was a service that rendered my heart useless.  But on the other side of the line, my heart was called to serve a new purpose, and that was to put the things of Jeff aside and live for others.  That could happen by changing diet, exercising wisely, and having regular check-ups.  I would have to do (and not do) things that had always been my priorities, in order to go on living for the people that I loved.  I would have to make my family and friends the priority of my heart on this side of the line of heart surgery.

     If I were to decide that I wanted to continue to live for me, and go back, it would kill me.  But if my purpose is to live for those that I love, I am given new life.  I like that purpose, and I like its benefits.

     There is a great deal of ridicule from people when they hear the Christian term "born again."  It amuses me, but it doesn't surprise me.  The problem, I believe, is that humans (particularly when it comes to the things of God) often feel superior by making simple ideas as complicated as possible.  I might not have the whole concept, but I think that for the most part, this is a great example of simplicity being lost at the expense of big words.

     The purpose of my heart was to please Jeff before surgery.  After surgery, my heart lived for a new purpose: others.  That is my new life.  To go back, is to choose death.

     Most people spend their days in search of their own enjoyment and pleasure.  We are concerned with the here and the now.  Making the most of this world is our purpose.

     But one day we wake up and say, "living for this world is living for death."  And we choose instead to change our purpose to live for God.  We choose life.

     Born to the purposes of the world.  Life that will end.

     Born to the purposes of God.  Born again to eternal life. 

Catching Up With My Heart

The recovery and healing process that comes after open heart surgery is nothing like I thought it would be.  Perhaps the most unexpected thing is that it has very little to do with the heart itself.  As my future begins to play out, I will be required to make adjustments to my lifestyle in order to keep my ticker running at its optimal best, but regarding what I am going through right now in the rehab process, it is the rest of my body that is my biggest concern.

     My heart does not hurt.  It is not my heart that feels exhausted and just plain old "blah."  It is not my heart that I am currently babying so that it will heal correctly.  In fact, right now, my heart is the very least of my concerns.

     When my surgeon went in and worked on my heart and its attached parts, he did not stop until everything within his power had been done to make sure it was operating at its greatest ability.  So my heart is now in the best condition that it can be.  The same cannot be said of the rest of my body.

     The reality of recovery from heart surgery is that my concern is for all of my body that is not the heart.  My chest was cut open and the bone must heal correctly.  My bad arteries are now bypassed and new ones are sending full flow to every part of me.  My leg is bruised and wounded from where arteries were removed to create the bypasses.  I am getting more blood and more oxygen to my system than my body is used to.  I get tired and winded and light-headed.  The whole of my person is trying to figure out how to deal with this new heart, and it is trying to adjust.

     The adjustment is the key.  That is what is happening now.  My heart was "made new" and the rest of my body has been forced to play catch up.  It it a process that will take time and work.  Sometimes there will be pain, often there will be weariness. 

     It is a process that I must be diligent and patient with.

     If I persist, my body will eventually begin to see the place of good health where my heart is leading it.  That place where the heart and body act as one is the desired objective.  It is the ultimate goal.

     God fixed my spiritual heart when I brought it to the cross of grace.

     The problem is no longer the heart.  The pain and weariness I experience spiritually has nothing to do with an incomplete work of God, but rather, it is the result of the rest of me trying to catch up with what God has done.

     It is a process that I must be diligent and patient with.

     It is a process that will require time and work.
     And if I persist, I will find that it is a process that will ultimately lead to a spiritual life which is entirely consistent with the heart that God has put in me.

My Spiritual Gene Pool

I saw my surgeon on Monday of last week, one day prior to what turned out to be a double bypass.  We discussed many things, but what impressed me the most was his desire to "fix" my problem.  He was more passionate about achieving his goal than I might have expected from a professional who had been saving lives for twenty-five years.

     The reasons for his great concern were revealed, however, when he told me that my damage was based on genetics.  I had made poor lifestyle decisions in my days, but I was assured that the damage I had was passed down from previous generations.  The good doctor proceeded to tell me about his own family history, which included the loss of a couple of brothers to heart attacks at young ages. One nearly took his own life as well.

     What I learned from the surgeon that day was that we all inherit certain things that can kill us.  They are just hanging around, waiting for a random day to wreak havoc.  I could have eaten perfectly and worked out regularly, but it would not likely have changed the chain of events that my heart put into motion a couple of weeks back.  But, if I had really considered the seriousness of my genes, I would have already been dealing with the problem by seeing a cardiologist before I had problems.  I would have been having regular tests done which heart specialists could look at and deal with before I was ripe to receive my inheritance.  I was aware of my genetic history, but apparently didn't take it seriously enough to deal with.  I might not have even thought I cared what was going on inside of me; but the resultant surgery and pain makes me wish I had.  Fortunately I am still alive after the revolt of my very own heart.  And you think you can trust your organs.

     I realize that there is a great deal of discussion in philosophical and religious circles about whether man is born good or evil, or whether or not he is born with original sin--but I don't think we really have to formulate a precise doctrine on the issue one way or another to understand what matters and to deal with it. 

     It is this: every single one of us has a heart that tends to (at least at some point in life) put its own interests above everything else.  For some, these moments are rare; but for none are they nonexistent.  Each and every person who walks the face of the earth has inherited a heart that will eventually demand its own way.  And in that moment, it will be exposing the reality that it is a defective heart.

     The question then, is this: do I really care that I have a spiritual heart condition that is capable of rising up on one unexpected day, bringing great pain into my spiritual life?  Do I care enough about my genetics to regularly stand before the eternal physician and let Him expose my weaknesses so that they might be fixed?  ...so that they can be rendered powerless?

     Does it matter? And do I even care?

     If I say "no" to either of those questions, I might suggest that the damage has already begun.

     So, please, go to the doctor.

Heart Surgery

Most of you who read this blog know me or you know someone else that does.  You are most likely aware, then, that this is a significant week in the life of me and my family.  I am referring, of course, to the diagnosis a few days ago that I have serious artery damage.  The response of the cardiology people that are now a part of my life will be triple bypass surgery next Tuesday, March 20.

     It is not my intent to use this blog space to keep people current on my condition and the success of my surgery and recovery, but you will be able to get such updates on my facebook wall.  Please feel free to find and "friend" me there, and to keep informed of my health status.

     I realize that I am only a couple of days away from a scenario that does not sound pleasant, but I have to tell you that I am not afraid.  I suppose that by Monday I might feel apprehensive--okay, I might even be a little bit scared--but I can say with total honesty that my fear is more about the pain of someone "sawing" into my chest than it is about someone not doing a good job on the bypass surgery and killing me. I know that it seems logical to worry more about the one part of the surgery that could kill me (that heart thing) than I should about the one part that will simply cause me pain (that cutting into my chest deal), but I don't.  And I have a good reason.
     Medical science has come a long way in the past couple of decades.  When it comes to dealing with the heart, the advances are mind-boggling.  Whereas bypass surgery was a risky proposition in the past, today it has become a remarkably safe procedure.  Most of the time artery repair is done successfully and most of the time people live through the procedure.  The people who work in the cardiology field are extremely knowledgeable and extensively trained.  Fixing hearts is what they do and they do it well on a regular basis.  And because they know hearts and repair hearts, and because they do it with such consistency, I am able to have a sense of peace about putting my life in their hands.  I know who they are and I know what to expect from them.  That is enough for me.
     God fixes hearts, too.  That is what he does: he takes something that has been damaged through misuse and neglect and laziness, and he operates on it so that the patient will have continued and improved life.  I don't doubt that physical surgeons are able to lovingly care for me, so why should I doubt that the true heart physician will and can do the same with my spiritual sickness?
     But for some reason, we tend to doubt God's ability to fix what is broken while not thinking twice about putting our confidence in men. 
     I assure you that on Tuesday morning, when preparations are being made for my procedure, I am not going to ask to remain awake so that I can supervise the surgeon.  It is ridiculous to even suggest such a thing.  I will not give advice on the procedure and I will certainly not try to put my hands anywhere into the mix.  I want nothing to do with anesthesia, incisions, or artery removal and relocation, because I know nothing about those things--and interestingly enough, if I try to help the doctors fix me...I am going to die.  Why then, do I want to help God fix my spiritual heart?  Don't I understand that dabbling with functions I know nothing about will not help me?
     I know that many people think I am saying that we should not do anything, but I am not saying that at all, because once the doctor has fixed my arteries, I have every intention of living more confidently than ever before.  I am going to feel better, I am going to be happier, and I am going to be wiser.  I plan to live better for me, for my family, and for every person that I meet each day--but I won't be able to do that until my heart gets fixed. 
     So, I resolve to let God do the spiritual heart surgery.  I resolve to quit trying to help Him do it.  And I resolve to use the spiritual health that He gives me to live more confidently, more happily, and more usefully. 
     What God fixes is truly fixed.
     When God saves lives, their is real life.

Putting Our Name (and everything else) on the Line

I have not been writing blogs for very long, but I have been translating my thoughts into written words ever since I was a child.  The tools at my disposal have ranged from napkins to computers; my style has fluctuated from serious to silly; and my punctuation and grammar have been good, bad, ugly, and everything in between.  Through all of the variations, however, there has remained one consistency: my writing always reveals my heart.  I write about things I enjoy, things I believe, and things that I consider important.  And whenever I do this, I am putting myself on the line.  My work will be applauded or rejected.  Since I am sharing myself in my writing, it is difficult to not take the response personally.  When you reject my work, I feel rejected; when you like my work, I feel approval.
     Some people might call me oversensitive, but my thoughts are very natural: while most humans don't pour their heart out with ink on paper, they still have a place--an arena--where their very essence is laid bare.  And when a person exposes the core of their being for public scrutiny, the nature of the response will be important to them.
     I want to be liked, accepted, and considered important; and because I try so hard to put my heart in all of my writing, one of the most important gages I use to "feel the love" of others is the gage that reads their response to the things that I write.
     When I first began writing this blog a few months ago, I had no idea what to expect.  All that I knew for sure was that I was going to put my thoughts into the vast void of the internet and hope that someone could find them.  But one day a funny thing happened: I had a member--a follower!  And it wasn't even someone in my own family!
     My response to this revelation was not profound or unexpected: it made me feel good.  Knowing that someone liked my writing meant (at least to me) that that someone liked me.  Was I reading into it?  Sure, at least a little, but it is not an entirely disconnected idea that people like other people based upon who they are on the inside and writing a blog does show something of the person that I am on the inside.  And the icing on the cake of the deal, the thing that really upped the ante, was the realization that someone was willing to openly associate and put their name alongside mine.
     I do not even know that person, but I assure you that he has become important to me.

     There are two things that really struck me in this picture.  The first is that God has poured His very heart into creation.  Just as I do when I write, he has put Himself "out there" to be approved or rejected.  He loves us enough to risk that.
     The second thing has to do with God's thoughts.  I cannot help but believe that when He shows himself to us and we respond by saying, "I am willing to put my name with His," and to proclaim that "I am a follower of Jesus Christ," that we become special to Him in a very unique way. 
     Not everyone has the courage to put their name with God's and no one does it all of the time; but I am confident that when we do, the picture God has of us on His wall becomes a little more special

Someone Else's Foot in the Door

Ephesians 2:18  "For through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father."

I recently watched a television program in which an ambitious teenage boy determined to impress an older businessman.  The youngster was certain that once his abilities and enthusiasm had been put on display, the natural response would be for the successful entrepreneur to find a place where those talents could be fully utilized (and rewarded).  It turned out, however, that the boy never had the opportunity to "show his stuff" because he could not procure even a brief hearing with the businessman. 
     As luck would have it, a dejected youth being "excused" from the reception area of the business which he had hoped to become a part of, crossed paths with a female acquaintance from his high school in the outside hallway.  Two important things were revealed in a conversation that changed the young man's fortunes.  The first was that the young lady had a bit of a crush on the boy, and the second was that her father ran the company that the boy was currently leaving.
     So, the boy ended up back inside the building, and he immediately bypassed the secretary who had sent him away.  Then he sat in a chair next to his school friend while she talked about his positive qualities.  She saw great potential in the young man, and as she continued to sing his praises, her father listened attentively.  Soon, the realization became clear: if the young man was so important to his daughter, he was also important to the father.  So, he became a part of the team.
     This story is the kind of story that all of us have believed to be true throughout our lives.  When we had a crush on a school girl, we talked to their best friend; when we were looking for a job, we cited references that the boss would respect; and when we needed admission to a certain college, we lobbied a celebrated alum.  The value of someone important sticking their foot in a door that we want to walk through has never escaped our notice.
     This is entirely consistent with what I believe in my Christian faith.  It is perhaps the thing that makes the most sense about Jesus coming to earth in my mind.  It is the idea of God's only begotten son coming down and hanging out with me at school, and it is also the idea of him liking what he sees in me.  And it culminates in the idea of Jesus taking me into his Father's office (an office I couldn't get into on my own) and blowing my horn for me.  The Father sits in his big chair and sees the value that I have to his son, and because of that, he also applies value to me.
     No matter what your religious beliefs are, I know that we all would like to talk to God directly.  I believe that God also wants to have that kind of a relationship with us.  The problem, however, is that we really don't have a very good idea of how to do it.  But if we have a savior who is the Son of God, and who walked with us in our shoes, and who puts his foot through the door to give us instant access to the Father, and then sits there with us and talks about how valuable we are to him...then talking to God suddenly ceases to be terrifying and confusing; and because of what Jesus did, it becomes delightful.
     I like the idea of not having to be the first through any door that has a powerful being on the other side; and I like the idea of not having to ever sit alone in that powerful being's presence while trying to make myself appear valuable.  The truth is, I never have to.  Jesus did it for me.  Now, when I go into the presence of a holy, mighty God, I go there confident that I am valuable to Him because I am valuable to His son.

Judge not, lest ye be judged

Matthew 7:1-2   "Judge not, that ye be not judged, for with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."

My wife and I attend many sporting events involving local teams.  We began following our children in their recreational leagues many years ago and continued to support programs in the local schools as they grew up.  With the exception of one daughter's boyfriend who we cheer for on his college soccer team, we no longer have ties to the competitors in the games we attend.  But we still attend.  Connie and I have found that watching young people involved in athletic activity has been enjoyable and of nominal cost.

     Over the years we have observed that there are two things which can be found at every sporting competition regardless of the age or skill-level of the participants; those two things are losing teams (and their fans) believing that all of the calls went against them, and winning teams (and their fans) verbally teasing the opponents.  Sometimes the latter are funny comments and sometimes they are mean; rarely, however, are they intended to do anything more than make sport of someone else's misfortune. 

     A couple of weeks ago, Connie and I were at a college basketball game that was going very well for the locals in the first half.  Just before the buzzer went off and the teams headed  into the locker room, the score was 36-8 in favor of our home boys.  With no other reason than to ridicule a poor performance, the student section of our college began to chant in loud unison, "single digits" over and over again.  I didn't think much about it because that is what student sections do until a more civil fan just behind me made a comment: she said, "they should be saying single digit."  And she was right.  College students mocking other college kids really ought to know that eight is only one number standing alone, and as only one number it should not be given the plural title, "digits."

     The situation made me think about Matthew 7 and the ever popular verse about not judging.  Now I know that most people are dishonest in how they use this verse, and when they are telling others that they should not judge...well, they are judging people for judging, and I always want to show them the many other verses that insist that we judge things as opposed to people in order to decide right from wrong...but still, there is something to be said about not judging.

     So, I considered the first several verses of Matthew 7 and here is my paraphrase, "Don't judge other people with a mean heart and selfish motives because then you will be judged the same way." 

     Then, I thought about the lady behind me and how her comment never would have been made if a whole slew of college students hadn't felt that it was perfectly fine to judge the performance of an opposing team.  She wouldn't have said a word, but their foolish judgment demanded it.  And she, the one with the second word, was right.  Those who spoke first, actually ended up looking silly.

     Okay, do not get me wrong.  College students have fun.  Fans have fun.  That isn't my point.  Let them continue to shout, "You!" and "Airball!" 

     And it isn't my point that we should never call things what they are, otherwise we blur the line between right and wrong.

     But it is my point that we ought to be really, really careful about the spirit and heart of our judgment.  And we ought to be very aware that everytime we engage in it, we put a spotlight on us that would not have been there before. 

     Maybe we should judge things (even sometimes calling them wrong) in a way that is loving and with the intent to build someone up, rather then in a manner of ridicule and with the purpose of destruction.  Whenever I judge, I know the difference.  I know what I am doing.  And I know that sometimes I should just stop doing what I am doing.  If I judge me first, maybe I won't have to worry about others judging me later.

    

What I see when I look at me

James 1:22-24

     I do not consider myself to be a vain person, but I seldom leave home without catching at least one glance in a mirror.  I might tell you that I don't give a hoot what other people think about me, but that is a blatant lie.  I wish it were true, but when I get up at three a.m. to get ready for work and step in front of the bathroom mirror, I immediately begin processing information that will determine how I ready myself for the day.

     Does my hair need water, mousse, gel, or a hat?

     Are pimple alterations required?

     How is the hair not on top of my head?  Check chin.  Check eyebrows.  Check ears.

     Do my clothes match?  Do they make me look fat?

     Anything in my teeth?

     You get the picture; we all do.  How we look to the people we come in contact with each day matters to us.  Obviously there are varying degrees of concern, but everyone is aware of appearance and willing to make adjustments for the sake of it.  I am not saying that this is a bad thing, only that it is a reality.  And in this day and age of surgery and suction, we are able to go beyond modifying our look, choosing instead to purchase a new one.
      I do not have the resources or the desire to undergo surgery to alter my physical packaging, but I admit that I have been on various diet and exercise regiments over the years.  I have changed hairstyles and wardrobes.  Recently, after my wife commented on the fact that I am "eyebrow challenged," I tried to respond with the application of mascara to the area above my eyes.  My point is not to show how ignorant I am about the use of various makeups, so go ahead and laugh; it is to honestly admit that one comment made me jump on the appearance-changing bandwagon.
     It is perhaps no coincidence that as I am finishing this entry, the Academy Awards are on television.  What I see might be the pinnacle of vanity in our world--it is a massive presentation of people trying to appear fabulous.  They have spent weeks, even months, preparing a physical look for themselves that will leave the greatest impression on the minds of people all over the world.  As a Christian, I would like to scream out against such superficiality.  I would like to say that we ought not to be so shallow and should concern ourselves with what a person is on the inside, but if I were going to do that I would be scolding myself more than anyone else.  I might not look good, but I try to.  And I appreciate others who take the time to put on their best face.  I know that what matters is on the inside, but I think that people who are beautiful on the inside might want to appear beautiful on the outside, too; and I can admit that they should be allowed to.  So, I am not going to scold people who glance in a mirror and say, "How can I look better for the world that will behold me today?"  because it is not right to scold people who are trying to become the most beautiful person that they can be.
     What I am going to do, however, is to suggest that we look in mirrors because we want to see how we look in the eyes of those who are important to us.  When we don't match up,  we will try to make changes.  That is not silly.  It is profound, and it is a sign of love.  And if we are worried about how we look in the eyes of those that matter the most, I am at a loss to explain why people who say they love God never bother looking into a spiritual mirror to see how they look.
     Our lives as Christians involved in a loving relationship with God ought not to concern itself so much with how we are seen by the world, but rather, it should be shaped by the honest reflection of a spiritual mirror where we see the things in our lives that might not be so very attractive in the eyes of God--things that love compels us to change.  If we spend more time looking in a mirror like that, we might be amazed to see how much better we start to look in mirrors made of glass. 

Useless Gifts

      I have never been good at giving gifts.  My major shortcomings in this area are the result of a lack of artistic and creative talent, my limited finances, and fruitless attempts to read other people's minds.

     Most of the people that live in my compartment of the world would be satisfied with the things that I could give if I had just a little more money.  I am not saying that my friends and family are shallow or that they determine the value of a gift based on the cost required to purchase it; I am just admitting that I live among people who have legitimate material needs and wants which, if acquired, would make life less difficult or at least more pleasant.  The meeting of those wants or needs might actually trump a thoughtful gift made with my own hands in their eyes because of the value it would have in their life.  My wife is a great lady, but she would surely appreciate a new four wheel drive vehicle for Christmas more that she would a pot holder made with my love and sweat, and beads purchased at the dollar store.

     There are, however, people in this world who do not need any more material possessions than they currently possess.  They have homes with pools, condos in Hawaii, cars worth more than any house I could ever hope to live in, and more money in their spare change pockets than I could afford to have credited to a gift card at any local restaurant or coffee house.  Recently, my wife and I have added just such a married couple to the list of people who are involved in our lives.

     My wife, Connie, volunteers at a local charity.  While doing a good thing for the community, she has been befriended by a very nice lady who is more than generous with the time she gives to the charity.  She and her husband are also the type of people who have large coffers and are more than liberal in opening them up for the benefit of others.  While being generous benefactors to local charities, they are also huge supporters and fans of one of the major universities in our area.  They not only give to this college with unparalleled liberality, they also cheer on the athletic teams with season tickets that give them possession of seats with better views of some of the plays than the officiating crews have.  And sometimes, when other committments take precedence and a game cannot be attended, these lovely people put my wife and I in those seats.

     Connie and I love sporting events.  We attend them regularly, but when we purchase tickets our best view is usually attained by looking at the big screen scoreboard over the field.  We are not used to seats that allow us to discern facial expressions or to wince at the audio of participants not pleased with certain developments in the game, but this nice lady and her husband who do great things for the community have included us in their gift-giving four times this year.  Because we could never afford such great seats on our own, we are exceedingly grateful with the gifts they give us.  And they are gifts because these people never allow us to even attempt to pay them anything.

     The problem, however, is that we really want to give them something to show our appreciation, but have no idea what that something should be.  Even if I had unlimited amounts of cash, there is nothing that I could purchase for these people that they might need.  If they had truly needed it, it would already have been in their possession.  And the still the generosity continues.  I might feel bad about my inability to match their giving, but our friends don't give it a thought.

     The story that I have told you is true.  People such as these do exist.  Most of us know one or more of them.  We may not all be acquainted with very wealthy generous people, but we do not doubt that they exist.  And we know that if they exist, it is foolhardy for those of us with limited financial resourses to try and return their generosity in a way that will balance the scales.  Such attempts would be fruitless and destructive.

     People like our friends, with giving hearts and resources beyond our imagination, do not expect or even think about matching gifts.  Their kindness is real and does not concern itself with some reciprocal benefit; rather, it is given with the sole concern of benefitting others.

     Such kindness is a picture of God.

     I often marvel at my own desire to give something to God that might somehow balance the scales of giving.  I sometimes tally all of my good works and wonder if it is enough.  Then I try to figure out what more I can do to make God continue to love and bless me.  I forget that God will always love and bless me, even when I am not able to love and bless Him back as I should.  His resources of blessing are unlimited.  Mine are not.

      One day my wife mentioned a local restaurant in the presence of her friend.  The lady said that she liked a certain beer that they made.  My wife took note and has decided to purchase some of that beer as a gift for them.  Not even for a moment does she intend to equalize all of their kindness through financial retribution--the cost will be minimal--but rather, to show appreciation by presenting something thoughtful and personal.  She knows this because she listened to what was said and considered it important enough to take note of.  That is called friendship.

     I am convinced that God is the same.  He does not demand the surrender of our limited resources; he longs instead, for our heart of friendship.