Just f.y.i., I've never allowed myself to be censored and at times I have been known to cross lines and been a little liberal with my speech and writing. I want to state for the record that I have been prevented by the powers that be from posting any visual representation of Barb being pregnant. She says it's dumb and she's fat. I say it's elegant and that, of course, she's bigger because she has a human inside of her--head, shoulders, knees and toes.
Soon and very soon we will be seeing our daughter. Can't really imagine what that'd be like. Just visited my old friend's myspace page and saw his two boys and 6 month old daughter. Quite a family.
Trying my hand at gardening this time around. I'm growing about a dozen or so strawberry plants, which are doing quite well, watermelon, bell pepper and something else I can't remember. I guess I should throw away the seed pouches so quickly. Well, if you see me on the news you'll know it was the forbidden plant.
Much is going on but it's too much to say right now. Learning brand new things--home ownership, starting over in an unfamiliar city, becoming a better pastor/teacher, starting insurance business too, and becoming a daddy. I think this is the perfect time for a vacation . . .or to grow a forbidden plant.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Omni-Gracious
The Bible says that God is omni-present, that is to say, that God is everywhere at once. This to me is astounding in and of itself, but when I think about the graciousness of God it makes it even more so. For if God is gracious and God is omni-present then that means that God is with us not matter the circumstances. God is with us when we worship, when we work, when we need consoling, when we need encouragement or even when we do wrong. God is there, waiting, patiently waiting.
That is not to say that God is not disturbed by our wrong doing. The Bible clearly states that our wrong doing, our sin interrupts our relationship with him. Just as I can't be with my wife in the closest sense relationally and at the same time be rude, arrogant or condescending to her, so it is with our relationship with God. But God doesn't walk away. He doesn't hide. We do that. We do that just like Adam and Eve did. We are afraid of someone knowing us completely, sin/warts and all. We hide out of fear, shame and/or guilt. Yet God habitually comes to Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening, even after he knows they have sinned, to converse with them.
Could it be that we could actually take such a risk and be known, utterly known by someone, even God, and still not be weighed down by guilt? But we put on the veil and mask ourselves. We maintain the veil that separates us from God like the Old Testament picture of the Temple, that gigantic curtain separating us from the holiest of places? Interesting that at the substitutionary, atoning, reconciling death of Jesus, Scripture states that the curtain was ripped from top to bottom to signify that God himself was stepping out from the veil to be with us. Hebrews says that we have an anchor behind the veil/curtain and that it is Jesus. No hands are big enough to remove that curtain except the benevolent hands of God. God wants to be known. He is in his nature one who reveals. The Apostle Paul calls Jesus the "mustarion," the "open secret." And God wants to know us.
That's so profound. Some people want to be free. Some want to be known. I think that all want to be both to some degree--to be known and free. That to me is the beauty of it: it can be, it should be, it is.
That is not to say that God is not disturbed by our wrong doing. The Bible clearly states that our wrong doing, our sin interrupts our relationship with him. Just as I can't be with my wife in the closest sense relationally and at the same time be rude, arrogant or condescending to her, so it is with our relationship with God. But God doesn't walk away. He doesn't hide. We do that. We do that just like Adam and Eve did. We are afraid of someone knowing us completely, sin/warts and all. We hide out of fear, shame and/or guilt. Yet God habitually comes to Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening, even after he knows they have sinned, to converse with them.
Could it be that we could actually take such a risk and be known, utterly known by someone, even God, and still not be weighed down by guilt? But we put on the veil and mask ourselves. We maintain the veil that separates us from God like the Old Testament picture of the Temple, that gigantic curtain separating us from the holiest of places? Interesting that at the substitutionary, atoning, reconciling death of Jesus, Scripture states that the curtain was ripped from top to bottom to signify that God himself was stepping out from the veil to be with us. Hebrews says that we have an anchor behind the veil/curtain and that it is Jesus. No hands are big enough to remove that curtain except the benevolent hands of God. God wants to be known. He is in his nature one who reveals. The Apostle Paul calls Jesus the "mustarion," the "open secret." And God wants to know us.
That's so profound. Some people want to be free. Some want to be known. I think that all want to be both to some degree--to be known and free. That to me is the beauty of it: it can be, it should be, it is.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
The Lost Art
Thursday was Barb's birthday. She is very young still. Her parents drove down from Plattsburg, Mo to be here and to help us with a home project. They are very giving, self-sacrificing individuals. I have known them for 6 years and they have consistently proven this. I am very blessed and thankful to have in-laws of this stature. We sent them off last night completely appreciative of the time well-spent with them. Can't wake 'til we see them again. The next time we see them they will have another grand-daughter.
During our prepared birth class on Thursday night we took a tour of our hospital, Germantown Methodist. We have been impressed with the class, hospital and doctors, oops, I mean "health care providers" thus far. There are about 15 other couples in the class: some beaming with excitement and others already tired with the preparatory work that is necessary. It is great to be surrounded by such excited people, each couple encouraging the other, swapping war stories. I can imagine that more stories will come.
The due date is April 17, so we are only 6 or 7 weeks away from Violet's birth. We are so excited and nervous! The thought of having the child, staying in the hospital for a few days and then being allowed to go home with the child seems like it should be illegal! Wait! I haven't done this before. Are you kidding? You should send her home with someone who is experienced! Ha.
Some people have said to us, "Oh, just wait. Your life will change so much. You won't get any sleep . . ." They go on to list several negative things about parenting. I know that their words are well meant, but I wonder why they think we haven't considered that yet, as if we get a lot of sleep now or haven't suspected that things will change. We have seen many friends have children and have seen their selfless giving in order to rear their child. It is not like we are living on a deserted island where no children dwell. The typical situation in some cases is that they highlight the negative and hard aspects but then say, "Oh, but it's worth it . . ."
This is the same thing that occurred when we were engaged. Numerous people felt like they needed to say, "Marriage is extremely difficult . . .but it's worth it." Most of these people, then and now, are believers and seem to not grasp the Scriptural concept of rejoicing with those who rejoice. I just don't get it. Why must there be so much party-poop from these people? Perhaps these people are frustrated and tired and want their sacrifices known, which is understandable. But to pile a bunch of negativity when we are celebrative is not only inappropriate but rude, calloused, and stupid. At times it seems like parents talk down to couples without children like married couples seem to talk down to singles who are engaged. I just don't get it.
There have been bright spots, though. We have talked with several parents who rejoiced with us without turning the situation to themselves. They shared with us their joy of discovering they were pregnant, asked us questions about our experience and gave advice when asked, a lost art it seems. Through the example of these couples I have learned a lot about relationships and how to not only listen to people but to hear them as well. I hope that God shapes in me more of that and helps me rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.
During our prepared birth class on Thursday night we took a tour of our hospital, Germantown Methodist. We have been impressed with the class, hospital and doctors, oops, I mean "health care providers" thus far. There are about 15 other couples in the class: some beaming with excitement and others already tired with the preparatory work that is necessary. It is great to be surrounded by such excited people, each couple encouraging the other, swapping war stories. I can imagine that more stories will come.
The due date is April 17, so we are only 6 or 7 weeks away from Violet's birth. We are so excited and nervous! The thought of having the child, staying in the hospital for a few days and then being allowed to go home with the child seems like it should be illegal! Wait! I haven't done this before. Are you kidding? You should send her home with someone who is experienced! Ha.
Some people have said to us, "Oh, just wait. Your life will change so much. You won't get any sleep . . ." They go on to list several negative things about parenting. I know that their words are well meant, but I wonder why they think we haven't considered that yet, as if we get a lot of sleep now or haven't suspected that things will change. We have seen many friends have children and have seen their selfless giving in order to rear their child. It is not like we are living on a deserted island where no children dwell. The typical situation in some cases is that they highlight the negative and hard aspects but then say, "Oh, but it's worth it . . ."
This is the same thing that occurred when we were engaged. Numerous people felt like they needed to say, "Marriage is extremely difficult . . .but it's worth it." Most of these people, then and now, are believers and seem to not grasp the Scriptural concept of rejoicing with those who rejoice. I just don't get it. Why must there be so much party-poop from these people? Perhaps these people are frustrated and tired and want their sacrifices known, which is understandable. But to pile a bunch of negativity when we are celebrative is not only inappropriate but rude, calloused, and stupid. At times it seems like parents talk down to couples without children like married couples seem to talk down to singles who are engaged. I just don't get it.
There have been bright spots, though. We have talked with several parents who rejoiced with us without turning the situation to themselves. They shared with us their joy of discovering they were pregnant, asked us questions about our experience and gave advice when asked, a lost art it seems. Through the example of these couples I have learned a lot about relationships and how to not only listen to people but to hear them as well. I hope that God shapes in me more of that and helps me rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Snow birds and No Babies
Last night it was rain. This morning it was sleet. And now it is snow. Winter is fun here in the Mid-America because it doesn't stay around too long. It passes through in two months. I forgot how Winter can be here and also how inept Southerners are at driving in this weather.
Last night Barb and I went to our first prepared childbirth class. We went out to Germantown and sat in a cozy room in a Manor than our hospital owns. We met about 15 other couples who are due from late March to early June. It is quite fun to compare stories, see the various women all carrying their babies in their bodies in different ways. Quite interesting that as we went around the room and told everyone basic info about ourselves and then about our favorite things/worst things and greatest fears, that we are all in the same boat. The fears and worries of the women are usually body related and the fear of the guys were mostly finance related. Although I must say that we guys had to admit that we really resented the fact that the class was on Thursday nights, thus causing us to miss The Office and Scrubs.
All the dads agreed about our similar struggles and about the adaptations we're learning to make. But above anything and everything else is this--the love of my life is in pain and discomfort now and will continue to be, and I can really do nothing about it. I feel helpless. I have known for quite some time that my mom was sacrificial with her body--not just pregnancy of me, my two brothers, and my sister--but also with working, cleaning, and providing for us in the hundreds of ways moms do. But now I am seeing in differently, just how painstakingly slow the hurt and the process can be. I am truly awed by the sacrificial nature of moms. Of course, all love is sacrificial, especially the birth that leads to new life.
The baby is due April 17 and at one and the same time it is too close and too far away. Although many of our friends from California will not be here for that God has given us a whole new set of friends to share this with. It is a great thing to have caring people who will help care and influence our daughter.
Last night Barb and I went to our first prepared childbirth class. We went out to Germantown and sat in a cozy room in a Manor than our hospital owns. We met about 15 other couples who are due from late March to early June. It is quite fun to compare stories, see the various women all carrying their babies in their bodies in different ways. Quite interesting that as we went around the room and told everyone basic info about ourselves and then about our favorite things/worst things and greatest fears, that we are all in the same boat. The fears and worries of the women are usually body related and the fear of the guys were mostly finance related. Although I must say that we guys had to admit that we really resented the fact that the class was on Thursday nights, thus causing us to miss The Office and Scrubs.
All the dads agreed about our similar struggles and about the adaptations we're learning to make. But above anything and everything else is this--the love of my life is in pain and discomfort now and will continue to be, and I can really do nothing about it. I feel helpless. I have known for quite some time that my mom was sacrificial with her body--not just pregnancy of me, my two brothers, and my sister--but also with working, cleaning, and providing for us in the hundreds of ways moms do. But now I am seeing in differently, just how painstakingly slow the hurt and the process can be. I am truly awed by the sacrificial nature of moms. Of course, all love is sacrificial, especially the birth that leads to new life.
The baby is due April 17 and at one and the same time it is too close and too far away. Although many of our friends from California will not be here for that God has given us a whole new set of friends to share this with. It is a great thing to have caring people who will help care and influence our daughter.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Chattanooga, A Diversion, A Vision
Several weeks ago Barb and Mandy decided that they would spend this past weekend at a spiritual retreat in west Arkansas, which turned out to be a great experience for them both. Since I don't want to be home alone I decided that I would drive down Highway 61, which I would catch here in Memphis and take to Natchez or Vicksburg, hitting some major Delta Blues territory. I was planning on spending some time with strangers or in a very cheap motel, thinking about the next 12 months, setting goals, and praying. However, a few weeks ago I caught up with a friend via email and decided to head east.
I found myself just north of Chattanooga, spending time with 2 friends I haven't seen in about 5 years. These friends are the type where you always leave better than you did before, although that might mean you are challenged at some very deep level, though unknown to them. These are friends who have sold their house, gotten out of consumer debt, have given an enormous amount of stuff away and are seeking to move to Asia to share the love of God with people who haven't even heard the word, "Bible, Jesus, or Crispy Cream." Well, I just made up that last bit about Crispy Cream, but to them, seriously, "Jesus," makes just about as much sense. He is not even on the radar.
Several years ago I did summer missions in Vancouver, BC, an experience that really formed, in part, who I am. As I was working under one of the best pastors in Western Canada I just listened to him talk about his friends all over the world who were serving Jesus in thoughtful, genuine, and gracious ways. Deep inside I wanted that. I wanted to have friends all over the world who were serving God faithfully and sacrificially for multiple reasons, most of which are selfish. I wanted to have a global perspective with my faith. I wanted my experience and knowledge to include other nationalities. And later on, which was also rekindled this past weekend, I wanted a heart for the unreached people groups around the world. Believe it or not, there are people groups who do not have a Bible in their own language, who do not have access to the gospel, and who do not know even the word, "Jesus." Think about it: they have neither heard nor said that two syllable utterance Je-sus. And what's really troubling--even if they wanted to know about Jesus they have no way to know. Jackie Pullinger, who worked with drug addicts in Hong Kong, said it best, "They are not going to come here (the church) to hear. We must go to them."
So, I am troubled today. Here I sit in a safe house, living a safe life, in a relatively safe city with all of this going on in my heart, hoping to start a church. Is is possible for God to grow a church here that would have a heart and soul for the nations? Who would seek out God's glory in sacrificial ways? There must be. There has to be hope.
On Sunday I worshipped with my friends and we read this quote by David Brainerd, missionary to the New England Indians 250 years ago. [He subsequently died through his service to the Indians. Many forget that while some were formulating how to take more land, some were crossing cultures to serve and love]. He prayed once, "Lord, let me make a difference for you that is utterly disproportionate to who I am."
So my plan was to go it alone--to ride and enjoy music and downloaded speeches, to see the scenery and think of me and my goals. And then God took the wheel and steered me in a completely different direction. And yet I cannot complain. I'm so thankful for friends who seek God with all of their hearts, though imperfectly at times.
I found myself just north of Chattanooga, spending time with 2 friends I haven't seen in about 5 years. These friends are the type where you always leave better than you did before, although that might mean you are challenged at some very deep level, though unknown to them. These are friends who have sold their house, gotten out of consumer debt, have given an enormous amount of stuff away and are seeking to move to Asia to share the love of God with people who haven't even heard the word, "Bible, Jesus, or Crispy Cream." Well, I just made up that last bit about Crispy Cream, but to them, seriously, "Jesus," makes just about as much sense. He is not even on the radar.
Several years ago I did summer missions in Vancouver, BC, an experience that really formed, in part, who I am. As I was working under one of the best pastors in Western Canada I just listened to him talk about his friends all over the world who were serving Jesus in thoughtful, genuine, and gracious ways. Deep inside I wanted that. I wanted to have friends all over the world who were serving God faithfully and sacrificially for multiple reasons, most of which are selfish. I wanted to have a global perspective with my faith. I wanted my experience and knowledge to include other nationalities. And later on, which was also rekindled this past weekend, I wanted a heart for the unreached people groups around the world. Believe it or not, there are people groups who do not have a Bible in their own language, who do not have access to the gospel, and who do not know even the word, "Jesus." Think about it: they have neither heard nor said that two syllable utterance Je-sus. And what's really troubling--even if they wanted to know about Jesus they have no way to know. Jackie Pullinger, who worked with drug addicts in Hong Kong, said it best, "They are not going to come here (the church) to hear. We must go to them."
So, I am troubled today. Here I sit in a safe house, living a safe life, in a relatively safe city with all of this going on in my heart, hoping to start a church. Is is possible for God to grow a church here that would have a heart and soul for the nations? Who would seek out God's glory in sacrificial ways? There must be. There has to be hope.
On Sunday I worshipped with my friends and we read this quote by David Brainerd, missionary to the New England Indians 250 years ago. [He subsequently died through his service to the Indians. Many forget that while some were formulating how to take more land, some were crossing cultures to serve and love]. He prayed once, "Lord, let me make a difference for you that is utterly disproportionate to who I am."
So my plan was to go it alone--to ride and enjoy music and downloaded speeches, to see the scenery and think of me and my goals. And then God took the wheel and steered me in a completely different direction. And yet I cannot complain. I'm so thankful for friends who seek God with all of their hearts, though imperfectly at times.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
The Fog Sits Heavy
Is it possible to travel thirty years in life and wake up one day and feel lost? Is it possible to one day wake up and look in the mirror and say, "Boy, you're handsome, but you also have problems?" Don't you think it's a mystery that life's a mystery? That we can ponder infinity and yet know of our own limitations? That we can relive what has passed and project ourselves into the future (with our thoughts, of course) and modify our behaviors accordingly? And as the fog sits heavy on the trees like they are leashed to one another, I realize I need a sunrise, a guiding source, of sorts. . .something to direct me in this new year.
The past year was the hardest one in a while from forward to finish. Yet it was the most rewarding as my character was developed (in part) through grueling circumstances where I was pushed beyond my known limits, to face the truth no matter how ugly. On the last night of the year as Barb and I sat on the side of the bed with our heads resting on our hands, we both agreed that it would be best to let the old year go. It had run its course, had served its purpose, pulling the hands of the clock round and round, leaving a well-worn path around our eyes. But sometimes it's hard to let go of something that's hurt you so deeply. Perhaps that's why we stay up so late on the year's last day.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
God and the Art of Sanding Down Furniture
This past weekend was a great one. On Saturday I spent the first part of the day sanding down and refinishing our coffee table, which we acquired freely a few months ago. It had some great coffee mug stains, a purple crayon streak and a few wobbly legs. Not very troublesome for sandpaper, stain and glue. Now it sits in the same place with a better look and a better structure, at least to me.
Working down in the dungeon (our basement) has been good for me. I'm there underneath our house, looking at what lies beneath, trying to correct a woodworking problem, to make an unwanted stain disappear or simply trying to straighten something that is crooked. Just in case you think I'm romanticising--I also scream and unnecessarily pound excess wood due to my own mistakes and oversights. Oh, not to mention me grovelling on the cold, dirty basement floor right after I pounded my thumb with the hammer.
On Sunday Barb and I spent the afternoon in our living room. She napped in the winter sunlight and I finished reading Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I finally finished that book after years of psyching myself up for it. It didn't disappoint. There's a reason it's a classic. There's this one sentence that Marlow, the guy who is telling the story throughout the book, says that has stuck with me, "No, I don't like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself, not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means." And as I read Genesis this morning--the very first book in the Bible about the very first things--I wondered if God already knew this and that is why he placed Adam and Eve in the Garden and gave them the responsibility to tend it.
As I have undertaken some major projects around the house (and other projects and other times) I have found this to be true. When I take on something like the above or even completely refinishing our hardwood floors like I did a few months ago, I am faced with what's inside me. There is no one else around. There is only me, God, and a bunch of filth. It's quite interesting--me working on the table and the floors (especially the floors)--I felt this deep connection between me and God, that we were together working. I work on the floor; he works on me. I didn't arrange it. I didn't plan or pray for it. That's just how it's been. Honestly, it's like that because God has outsmarted me, but that's a conversation for another time.
Working down in the dungeon (our basement) has been good for me. I'm there underneath our house, looking at what lies beneath, trying to correct a woodworking problem, to make an unwanted stain disappear or simply trying to straighten something that is crooked. Just in case you think I'm romanticising--I also scream and unnecessarily pound excess wood due to my own mistakes and oversights. Oh, not to mention me grovelling on the cold, dirty basement floor right after I pounded my thumb with the hammer.
On Sunday Barb and I spent the afternoon in our living room. She napped in the winter sunlight and I finished reading Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I finally finished that book after years of psyching myself up for it. It didn't disappoint. There's a reason it's a classic. There's this one sentence that Marlow, the guy who is telling the story throughout the book, says that has stuck with me, "No, I don't like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself, not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means." And as I read Genesis this morning--the very first book in the Bible about the very first things--I wondered if God already knew this and that is why he placed Adam and Eve in the Garden and gave them the responsibility to tend it.
As I have undertaken some major projects around the house (and other projects and other times) I have found this to be true. When I take on something like the above or even completely refinishing our hardwood floors like I did a few months ago, I am faced with what's inside me. There is no one else around. There is only me, God, and a bunch of filth. It's quite interesting--me working on the table and the floors (especially the floors)--I felt this deep connection between me and God, that we were together working. I work on the floor; he works on me. I didn't arrange it. I didn't plan or pray for it. That's just how it's been. Honestly, it's like that because God has outsmarted me, but that's a conversation for another time.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Becker, Warren and a Little Girl
I guess there is a lot on my mind lately. Barb is plumping up with child and is giving that Thanksgiving turkey a run for its money. Although she might cost more per pound; I'll have to look at the insurance bills. Along those same lines is the very fact that within the body of my bride is another. That for the past 18 or 19 weeks her heart has been beating 160 beats per minute as her developing body needs more nutrients, more blood, and more oxygen. At the same time my wife's rib cage is expanding as her lungs are growing so that she herself can produce for our child more nutrients, more blood and more oxygen. That this week our little girl is growing her epidermis, which has been determined by her Creator, fingerprints established, freckles and tone. It's astonishing that she is working alongside God right now, so to speak, fulfilling the requirements of external life. Even further, within my bride is our little girl and within our little girl are all the eggs she will have for the rest of her life. Our grandchildren are literally within my wife and girl at the same time. All of this is imprinted into her; she knows what to do though she cannot articulate a single sentence. It is almost as if God had arranged everything for us to do without us ever really knowing we are doing it, and without our consent or input, as is my case.
At the same time as my child, my wife and my burgeoning fixation on the creativity and ingenuity of God, are two books that have completely demolished and renovated my thoughts on human nature, life, death, and eternity: The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker and Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren. I rarely find myself in the new releases portion of any bookstore. I don't really go for new when it comes to a lot of things, books especially. I try to find classics, something with time-tested value that has an enduring reputation. Even with church planting and some pastoral or leadership issues I don't go for the newest glossy paperback. I go to pastors dead and gone, theologians who shook and shaped their cities or countries and who could also shape me if I were as willing. Becker wrote The Denial of Death in 1973 and subsequently received The Pulitzer Prize. Warren wrote his book only four years ago, but it has remained atop the New York Times best-seller list for multiple years (175 weeks as of May of this year). So his book is relatively new but has major cultural influence today.
This is all I can write right now, as the content of the books are staggering. Eevery paragraph in Warren's book could be a paragraph to live by. Likewise, in Becker's work there are certain pages that latch on to you and force you down to the ground, wrestle with you, and later become some of your best companions. Though Becker was a cultural anthropologist who spent his life gathering and synthesizing multi-disciplinary thoughts about the "why of existence" and Warren ,a pastor, theologian and humanitarian, seem quite opposite on the surface they both have some astounding cohesiveness. Both agree that each one of us has a desire for immortality, a desire to live and have influence beyond our own years, that we have an intense inner yearning for life and self-expression, but that we all fear life and we all fear death. They both agree that satisfaction in life comes not when we focus on self but when we ultimately surrender to God everything we've been trying to build for our own glory and immortality. It's like the Scripture says, "God has placed eternity in the hearts of everyone."
Recently a friend sent me an email and within that email was a line that was stuck in my brain like a splinter, "Do not fear that your life will end, but that it will never truly start." And so, I sit with Becker and Warren, fighting, feuding, sparring with them in a pugilistic three-for-all, and I am the better for it.
Anyway, thanks for listening to the rambling--perhaps a few paragraphs too long. I hope to build a document with quotes and cross references with the both of these guys as I feel it is at the base of any teaching that I'd give from Scripture. Alright now, stay warm and safe.
Jason
At the same time as my child, my wife and my burgeoning fixation on the creativity and ingenuity of God, are two books that have completely demolished and renovated my thoughts on human nature, life, death, and eternity: The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker and Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren. I rarely find myself in the new releases portion of any bookstore. I don't really go for new when it comes to a lot of things, books especially. I try to find classics, something with time-tested value that has an enduring reputation. Even with church planting and some pastoral or leadership issues I don't go for the newest glossy paperback. I go to pastors dead and gone, theologians who shook and shaped their cities or countries and who could also shape me if I were as willing. Becker wrote The Denial of Death in 1973 and subsequently received The Pulitzer Prize. Warren wrote his book only four years ago, but it has remained atop the New York Times best-seller list for multiple years (175 weeks as of May of this year). So his book is relatively new but has major cultural influence today.
This is all I can write right now, as the content of the books are staggering. Eevery paragraph in Warren's book could be a paragraph to live by. Likewise, in Becker's work there are certain pages that latch on to you and force you down to the ground, wrestle with you, and later become some of your best companions. Though Becker was a cultural anthropologist who spent his life gathering and synthesizing multi-disciplinary thoughts about the "why of existence" and Warren ,a pastor, theologian and humanitarian, seem quite opposite on the surface they both have some astounding cohesiveness. Both agree that each one of us has a desire for immortality, a desire to live and have influence beyond our own years, that we have an intense inner yearning for life and self-expression, but that we all fear life and we all fear death. They both agree that satisfaction in life comes not when we focus on self but when we ultimately surrender to God everything we've been trying to build for our own glory and immortality. It's like the Scripture says, "God has placed eternity in the hearts of everyone."
Recently a friend sent me an email and within that email was a line that was stuck in my brain like a splinter, "Do not fear that your life will end, but that it will never truly start." And so, I sit with Becker and Warren, fighting, feuding, sparring with them in a pugilistic three-for-all, and I am the better for it.
Anyway, thanks for listening to the rambling--perhaps a few paragraphs too long. I hope to build a document with quotes and cross references with the both of these guys as I feel it is at the base of any teaching that I'd give from Scripture. Alright now, stay warm and safe.
Jason
Monday, November 13, 2006
Mystery
Ah, this time next week I'll be figuratively spiking a football in the endzone of certainty as we find out if it's a boy, girl, or monster. I have been wanting a girl, however, in the second or third week of finding out Barb was pregnant, my gut instinct said, "boy." Barb's instinct says "boy" to, which is better than, "boy, two."
So, it's great to live in a mystery right now. However, I know that when I find out if it's a boy or girl the mystery will get only more profound. As Barb was talking to me on our weekend drive a few days ago, she said, "Jason, I was just looking at my hair and thinking about what color our kid's is going to be. I have no power to make it one way or the other. God has decided and God is deciding a lot about our kid without asking or letting us know. Isn't it great?!"
So, it's great to live in a mystery right now. However, I know that when I find out if it's a boy or girl the mystery will get only more profound. As Barb was talking to me on our weekend drive a few days ago, she said, "Jason, I was just looking at my hair and thinking about what color our kid's is going to be. I have no power to make it one way or the other. God has decided and God is deciding a lot about our kid without asking or letting us know. Isn't it great?!"
Thursday, November 09, 2006
It's been 6 weeks?!!! But why, Jason?
Ah, here it is, mid-November, nice breeze, comfortable conditions inside and out. This place is starting to feel a bit more like home as we unpack, repack, throw away, and/or set up our things. The baby unofficially has more stuff than any of us, lucky thing.
We find out Thanksgiving week if it's a boy or girl. Judging by Barb's belly, it's a giant. My birthday is on that week, so I am blessed all ways around.
Recently went up to Minnesota with the team to the Alpha conference to learn from the creators of the course. It was a great trip for us as a team as God solidified some visioning stuff and also as we worked out some immediate structure things with our meetings. And, blessing again, a friend from Hillside was there at the conference, Steve. We were able to have great talks and share a meal downtown one night. Steve and I meet in all the exotic places--dormitory in seminary, Catalina, Corte Madera/Larkspur, Minneapolis. Ah, the life of a jet-setter.
I know I haven't been posting as much. That's for a few reasons. Let me number them:
1. This will be a more personal site and will deal primarily with family and person items.
2. Church planting updates and anything to do with that kind of thing will go to another site. It it http://projectmustardseed.com/blog/ There's various stuff on there so you'll have to do some sifting through. If you want updates or our newsletter, which will condence the news down, then email me (or reply to this post) and I'll hook you up.
3. We are in the planning stages of organizing, strategizing, and building a website. God's brought along our side a very capable web-wizard who is also turning out to be a great friend. So #2 above is for updates, thoughts pertaining to our situation in Memphis, and this website might eventually incorporate it.
4. To blog about everything is to blog about nothing.
5. "Blogs are written by people with nothing to say and are read by people with nothing to do," which is a quote I heard Guy Kamasaki say at a conference in San Francisco. So I quote that to myself every now and again as I login and then ask, "Is this worth saying?"
6. Further with #5, I want to make sure I write well and have something good to say. We all have enough to read, so there's no need for me to write everything I think. I agree with Otto Rank who said, "there is already too much truth…an over-production which apparently cannot be consumed!" The bookstores and blogospere proves it: never has so much been written, yet so little been said.
I sincerely hope that you and yours are doing well. I appreciate you reading this and showing interest in what's going on in me and with me. Drop a line and holla if you wish.
Blessings,
Jason
We find out Thanksgiving week if it's a boy or girl. Judging by Barb's belly, it's a giant. My birthday is on that week, so I am blessed all ways around.
Recently went up to Minnesota with the team to the Alpha conference to learn from the creators of the course. It was a great trip for us as a team as God solidified some visioning stuff and also as we worked out some immediate structure things with our meetings. And, blessing again, a friend from Hillside was there at the conference, Steve. We were able to have great talks and share a meal downtown one night. Steve and I meet in all the exotic places--dormitory in seminary, Catalina, Corte Madera/Larkspur, Minneapolis. Ah, the life of a jet-setter.
I know I haven't been posting as much. That's for a few reasons. Let me number them:
1. This will be a more personal site and will deal primarily with family and person items.
2. Church planting updates and anything to do with that kind of thing will go to another site. It it http://projectmustardseed.com/blog/ There's various stuff on there so you'll have to do some sifting through. If you want updates or our newsletter, which will condence the news down, then email me (or reply to this post) and I'll hook you up.
3. We are in the planning stages of organizing, strategizing, and building a website. God's brought along our side a very capable web-wizard who is also turning out to be a great friend. So #2 above is for updates, thoughts pertaining to our situation in Memphis, and this website might eventually incorporate it.
4. To blog about everything is to blog about nothing.
5. "Blogs are written by people with nothing to say and are read by people with nothing to do," which is a quote I heard Guy Kamasaki say at a conference in San Francisco. So I quote that to myself every now and again as I login and then ask, "Is this worth saying?"
6. Further with #5, I want to make sure I write well and have something good to say. We all have enough to read, so there's no need for me to write everything I think. I agree with Otto Rank who said, "there is already too much truth…an over-production which apparently cannot be consumed!" The bookstores and blogospere proves it: never has so much been written, yet so little been said.
I sincerely hope that you and yours are doing well. I appreciate you reading this and showing interest in what's going on in me and with me. Drop a line and holla if you wish.
Blessings,
Jason
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
The Womb of Promise
Well, there has been relief from the heat as of late. Yesterday was so hot that cups with ice water in them even sweated. Sometimes you can see it drip from the trees. But a "thunderstorm" passed by in the night. The morning sky is dark and the ground is damp. Water runs down our windows like tears from heaven, as fluid as my hopes and dreams.
I'm on our second floor right now and I just drove Barb to work. My engine is beginning to run, fueled by coffee and 8 hours rest. Recently I found myself digging in a book of the Bible that I haven't been to, I haven't searched through in a while--Ezekiel 34. The chapter is broken into four parts: words that God spoke to those who are in leadership of God's people, words that God speaks about himself, words God spoke to his flock, and God's promise of a Future Shepherd, Jesus.
"Then I will set over them one shepherd, My servant David (one from David's throne), and he will feed them;p he will feed them himself and be their shepherd . . .I will make them and the places around My hill a blessing. And I will cause showers to come down in their season; they will be showers of blessing . .. then they will know that I am the LORD, when I have broken the bars of their yoke and have delivered them from the hand of those who enslaved them . . ."
Promises are potent. If met they are the health of life and joy. If broken they are more poisonous than hate.
God is faithful to his word. Jesus is the one shepherd from the line of David. David retaliated toward a lion and a bear because they jacked one of his sheep. How confident we should be that Jesus (who is from the family of the World's Best Shepherd) is the Shepherd of those who have believed in the truth of Jesus' dying on the cross for our sins.
Promises. Dorment hope.
Dorment but not, hmmm......without effect.
Promises . . . like rain from the heavens that is well-timed for the fields.
Promises . . . like obedience to our Lord will not go unnoticed by either our enemy or friend.
Promises . . . like no greater joy is knowing Jesus because Jesus knows best.
Like a sheep that knows protection carries a cane and a slingshot.
Promises . . . like the womb of my wife who is bearing our first child.
I'm on our second floor right now and I just drove Barb to work. My engine is beginning to run, fueled by coffee and 8 hours rest. Recently I found myself digging in a book of the Bible that I haven't been to, I haven't searched through in a while--Ezekiel 34. The chapter is broken into four parts: words that God spoke to those who are in leadership of God's people, words that God speaks about himself, words God spoke to his flock, and God's promise of a Future Shepherd, Jesus.
"Then I will set over them one shepherd, My servant David (one from David's throne), and he will feed them;p he will feed them himself and be their shepherd . . .I will make them and the places around My hill a blessing. And I will cause showers to come down in their season; they will be showers of blessing . .. then they will know that I am the LORD, when I have broken the bars of their yoke and have delivered them from the hand of those who enslaved them . . ."
Promises are potent. If met they are the health of life and joy. If broken they are more poisonous than hate.
God is faithful to his word. Jesus is the one shepherd from the line of David. David retaliated toward a lion and a bear because they jacked one of his sheep. How confident we should be that Jesus (who is from the family of the World's Best Shepherd) is the Shepherd of those who have believed in the truth of Jesus' dying on the cross for our sins.
Promises. Dorment hope.
Dorment but not, hmmm......without effect.
Promises . . . like rain from the heavens that is well-timed for the fields.
Promises . . . like obedience to our Lord will not go unnoticed by either our enemy or friend.
Promises . . . like no greater joy is knowing Jesus because Jesus knows best.
Like a sheep that knows protection carries a cane and a slingshot.
Promises . . . like the womb of my wife who is bearing our first child.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
The Kingdom of God is like 22 tons of hay
Barb and I visited my family this past week, who live about 1.5 hours south of us. We celebrated 3 birthdays (Steve, Sherry, Amber) and had some awesome Mama-cooked meals. Have you ever ruined a meal by eating too much? Not me, it just can't be done, not with Mama.
My cousin, Gerald, came by. Dad had been growing hay for years and would in turn sell it to Gerald for his cattle. Gerald had been working in the field and had come by to pay Mom for the hay. He had rolled 16 rolls of hay, each weighing 1,000 to 1,500 lbs. each. Earlier in the summer he had rolled 28. It seems incomprehensible to me that we have grown 22 tons of hay. It has been relatively easy: seeds were planted; God watered them; it grew; it was cut, dried, then rolled.
Jesus did a lot of work with people like my family and he would speak to them in their language. When he was in an agricultural region he spoke to these people who had broken ground and deposited seeds into the earth hoping to get back more than they had planted. These people had soaked their clothes working diligently and who had probably been stunned at the mystery--"they go to bed at night and get up by day and the seed sprouts and grows--how, he himself does not know. The soil produces crops by itself; first the blade, then the head, then the mature grain in the head. But when the crop permits, he immediately uses the sickle, because the harvest has come" (Mark 4:26-29).
After that passage Jesus goes on to talk about a mustard seed. He says that though it is such a small seed, yet "when it is sown, it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and forms large brancehes so that the birds of the air can nest under its shade."
Lately our team has been contemplating these stories. It is such a mystery as to how a church is initiated and sustained. We pray, serve, prepare, and mostly, we wait. We see that our task right now is to understand and to cultivate the soil of our area so that when seeds of the kingdom are planted that a people could be formed here that would bring honor to God, pleasure to us, and shelter to those who need it. It is always a major undertaking to work/to labor in the field for God. There is much labor and much waiting. It is a project about mustard seeds--that the seemingly insignificant becomes life changing for all involved.
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Thursday, July 27, 2006
Well, we're settling in to life in the city of Red Birds, Grizzlies and the Pyramid. Barb and I have been on the fast track it seems the past few months and even now as we are looking for appropriate employment, a house (!), and growing a faith community that God would be proud of.
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Thursday, July 13, 2006
To Amarillo and Beyond
Whew, that was fast. We just crossed the Mighty Mississippi a few hours ago. We left on Tuesday around 2pm and arrived 2,600 miles later in Memphis tonight at 7pm. A few impressions of the country we are so blessed to live in. First of all, if you start in northern California it takes forever to even get out of the state into Arizona. Secondly, hot is hot no matter the humidity. It doesn't matter if it's 102 degrees with no humidity or 84 degrees with the heat index of 102 degrees--hot is hot. Thirdly, it pays to have a car with great gas mileage--well, in relation to most cars sold in the US. Fourthly, life is better ten miles per hour above the speed limit. Fifthly, they really do leave the light on for you. Even past midnight. Sixthly, it's very difficult to get a decent cup of coffee. That's why nation chains like The Mermaid (Starbucks) is appealing to me. I can go into any Mermaid--Corte Madera, SF, Amarillo, and Memphis and not exactly what I'm getting because of the amazing consistency.
Barb has several interviews with schools tomorrow in Memphis. We're hoping and praying. Do that with us, please.
Barb has several interviews with schools tomorrow in Memphis. We're hoping and praying. Do that with us, please.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Withdrawing Pennies and Getting Back Gold
I became a follower of Jesus when I was fifteen-years-old. I don't really know why it took me that long to get it, but it did. It was the best decision of my life--well, and the best decision of my afterlife also. Several months after I bowed the knee to Jesus I "surrendered to the ministry," as some call it. I simply said to Christ that there was nothing else I could ever see myself doing than teaching Scripture and helping others along the path toward faith in God through the work of Jesus.
In college I remember bowing down between my bed and my bookshelf and saying with fervency, "God, I'll go wherever you want me to go. I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just make the way clear. Make it evident. Provide the way. I just want to be about what you are doing in the world."
I knew then, and had for a while, that God was going to ask of all of me. That is, that God was going to use me up. He was going to ask all from me. The picture I drew in my head of what that looked like was something similar to martyrdom. I'd give my last drop of blood on the mission field somewhere--China, India, or some other foreign country. My body would be laid in a hero's grave. The preacher would wail about my godly, sacrificial life. I'd be loved in life and revered in death. Young women would cry in the afternoon sun. Simply--I thought God was going to draw out of my account and that he would do so by writing one big check.
What I've come to recognize and what I'm living with right now is this--he does and is drawing from my account. He hasn't written in my big check. No, it's been in a series of small checks in varying amounts. That's not to say that God has been nickel and diming me to death. No, that is to say that God knows how much is in my account and he knows exactly how much I can withstand. It's been in a series of small checks in varying amounts.
What I once thought was large, even to large, when I thought he had gone into overdraft, now is really small. It seemed big for the moment because back then my account was small. Ten dollars matters to an account of One hundred dollars. But one hundred dollars isn't as significant when the account is holding hundreds of thousands. Yes, those big withdrawals in the past look like pocket change now. It's a mystery to me.
This current check that he's written--well, at times I've been wondering if that comma was supposed to be a period. Surely he doesn't mean to withdraw that much. He's never asked that much from me before. He knows I can't take that. But what if something else comes up? What am I to do then?
So, since he hold the account anyway and knows my p.i.n. I (un)willingly accept that withdrawal. Why? Because he's bigger than me and I have a fear in him? Not unlikely. Because he can push me into bankruptcy and make me long for a recession of his presence? Hmmm. No. Well, because I know that he's really good at transfers. He has credited to my account over and over again. And as I reckon the account I see that he has always transfered more than he has taken out and that my account always increases. He has interest in me and that interest is paying big dividends. He has credited to my account all the riches and promises of heaven that have been secured through the benevolent work of Jesus Christ.
Oh, this current withdrawal is tough. But I know that one day I will reckon my account again and see that the transfer back in has not only filled the debit but has increased many times over.
No, I will not give my last drop on the mission fields on foreign soil. Not yet at least. The preacher will not wail and young women will not cry in the afternoon soon. But as I pack my bed and my bookshelf, and as I stand between them I am overwhelmed with the reality that he has stayed true to himself--he has provided, he has spoken, he is leading.
So now I say to you, friend, may the Lord bless you and keep you, cause his face to shine upon you. May he prove himself faithful to you as he withdraws pennies and gives back gold. May it be so among us also. Amen.
In college I remember bowing down between my bed and my bookshelf and saying with fervency, "God, I'll go wherever you want me to go. I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just make the way clear. Make it evident. Provide the way. I just want to be about what you are doing in the world."
I knew then, and had for a while, that God was going to ask of all of me. That is, that God was going to use me up. He was going to ask all from me. The picture I drew in my head of what that looked like was something similar to martyrdom. I'd give my last drop of blood on the mission field somewhere--China, India, or some other foreign country. My body would be laid in a hero's grave. The preacher would wail about my godly, sacrificial life. I'd be loved in life and revered in death. Young women would cry in the afternoon sun. Simply--I thought God was going to draw out of my account and that he would do so by writing one big check.
What I've come to recognize and what I'm living with right now is this--he does and is drawing from my account. He hasn't written in my big check. No, it's been in a series of small checks in varying amounts. That's not to say that God has been nickel and diming me to death. No, that is to say that God knows how much is in my account and he knows exactly how much I can withstand. It's been in a series of small checks in varying amounts.
What I once thought was large, even to large, when I thought he had gone into overdraft, now is really small. It seemed big for the moment because back then my account was small. Ten dollars matters to an account of One hundred dollars. But one hundred dollars isn't as significant when the account is holding hundreds of thousands. Yes, those big withdrawals in the past look like pocket change now. It's a mystery to me.
This current check that he's written--well, at times I've been wondering if that comma was supposed to be a period. Surely he doesn't mean to withdraw that much. He's never asked that much from me before. He knows I can't take that. But what if something else comes up? What am I to do then?
So, since he hold the account anyway and knows my p.i.n. I (un)willingly accept that withdrawal. Why? Because he's bigger than me and I have a fear in him? Not unlikely. Because he can push me into bankruptcy and make me long for a recession of his presence? Hmmm. No. Well, because I know that he's really good at transfers. He has credited to my account over and over again. And as I reckon the account I see that he has always transfered more than he has taken out and that my account always increases. He has interest in me and that interest is paying big dividends. He has credited to my account all the riches and promises of heaven that have been secured through the benevolent work of Jesus Christ.
Oh, this current withdrawal is tough. But I know that one day I will reckon my account again and see that the transfer back in has not only filled the debit but has increased many times over.
No, I will not give my last drop on the mission fields on foreign soil. Not yet at least. The preacher will not wail and young women will not cry in the afternoon soon. But as I pack my bed and my bookshelf, and as I stand between them I am overwhelmed with the reality that he has stayed true to himself--he has provided, he has spoken, he is leading.
So now I say to you, friend, may the Lord bless you and keep you, cause his face to shine upon you. May he prove himself faithful to you as he withdraws pennies and gives back gold. May it be so among us also. Amen.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Ah, Catalina. The name rolls off your tongue and sits in your soul like a foam anchor!? Whatever that means. It was a great vacation and Barb and I had hours of great conversation and fun. It was also good to be with Steve and Jessica during that whole week. It was a great way to spend our last great California get away. If you ever get a chance to go on vacation with Steve and/or Jessica GO FOR IT!
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Saturday, June 17, 2006
Prayers, Thoughts, Emails
Well, I really appreciate the prayers, thoughts, phone calls, hugs, emails, gifts, meals, and the million other things that God has used to encourage and console me during these past four weeks. I am learning so much through this process.
Tomorrow Barb and I are accompanying Steve and Jessica to Catalina Island out in the wild blue yonder off of Los Angeles. Steve and Jessica were married in Tahoe in January. Their wedding picture is in a post I did after their wedding. Their good friends and it is good to make this trip with them before we leave.
Tomorrow Hillside Church, whom I strive to serve, is sending a huge team to Mexico to work with an orphanage that we have an ongoing relationship with. I've not been able to go but I really appreciate the stories and pictures from the teams when they come back with their lives changed.
Today I was thinking about that team, those orphans, Father's Day and my dad. I miss my dad a lot and it really hit me hard a few times this week, which is okay. My Mom went back to work and is doing well. It's good to talk with her and my sister, Lori. The Scriptures talk about true religion is taking care of the orphans and widows. It's no longer a concept to me; it's reality. And the Scripture also talks about God being the Father of the fatherless, of which I now am. I wish I could articulate exactly what's been shown to me in this. I can only simply say that God is true to his word and does speak in the darkness and answers the one who calls to Him.
Tomorrow Barb and I are accompanying Steve and Jessica to Catalina Island out in the wild blue yonder off of Los Angeles. Steve and Jessica were married in Tahoe in January. Their wedding picture is in a post I did after their wedding. Their good friends and it is good to make this trip with them before we leave.
Tomorrow Hillside Church, whom I strive to serve, is sending a huge team to Mexico to work with an orphanage that we have an ongoing relationship with. I've not been able to go but I really appreciate the stories and pictures from the teams when they come back with their lives changed.
Today I was thinking about that team, those orphans, Father's Day and my dad. I miss my dad a lot and it really hit me hard a few times this week, which is okay. My Mom went back to work and is doing well. It's good to talk with her and my sister, Lori. The Scriptures talk about true religion is taking care of the orphans and widows. It's no longer a concept to me; it's reality. And the Scripture also talks about God being the Father of the fatherless, of which I now am. I wish I could articulate exactly what's been shown to me in this. I can only simply say that God is true to his word and does speak in the darkness and answers the one who calls to Him.
Monday, June 05, 2006
The Hardest Post Yet
A little over two weeks ago my father, Waymond Jamie Elder, died of a massive heart attack. It was a surprise to say the least. It's hard to know exactly how to proceed--in life and in writing. I write this to make it known, to write my appreciation for him and his life of integrity, and to thank God for the support of family and friends.
I grew up on the same plot of ground for 21 years. Mom and Dad lived on three acres that is adjacent to about 30 acres of farmland. Dad and the rest of my family loved(s) working the earth and last week while Barb and I were there we saw the garden he had planted--peas, beans, okra, eggplant, squash, and two fruit trees. The garden was young, planted not too long ago with roots going deeper each day with the hope of a future harvest.
Along the east side of the garden is a creek that separates the 3 acres from the 30. Along the back of that creek are pines, water oaks, and various flowers and vegetation. Laying close to the garden was a pine tree that used to hug the bank of that creek until elemental forces pushed it down and it was forced to let go of its grip of the ground it had held onto for decades. Dad hooked a chain to it and drug it away with his 1968 Blue Ford Tractor. The void the tree left is still easily seen and I am learning that the deeper the roots the great the impact when it is taken away.
As we tended to the garden which is at the back of the 3 acres we saw the often walked ground that he and Mom have taken around the house, down the sloped back yard, past the shed and into the pasture with the burgeoning garden. Dad's footprints were still fresh in the garden. He walked that path and those rows many a morning and evening.
On Sunday we had visitation at the funeral home. Our family gathered in the estate room and the community came out to pay their last respects. Between 400-500 people stopped by, which was overwhelming and empowering. I've always known Dad as "dad" and never as co-worker, employee, friend, neighbor, or acquaintance. It was there that night that I was able to see how far reaching his silent roots had grown and gone out into the community and touched lives. Over and over again the supporters shed tears, gave hugs and noted Dad's character and integrity.
On Monday we had the funeral and Reverend Floyd Lamb gave the message. He is close to our family and has ministered to our family as Dad's parent's both died of cancer and he was also there when our sister, Lori Beth, was born with Down's Syndrome and had heart surgery. He spoke with passion and held Christ up to be glorified. He stated something that really stuck with me and I doubt that I will ever forget it. He said this--we often think of death as a lonely experience, that the deceased is hovering somewhere out there trying to find their way, but the Bible states otherwise. The Bible states that to be absent from the body, for the person who has Jesus as Lord, is to be with the Lord. He said that David's last words to his son Solomon was this, "I now go the way of all the earth." Dad didn't walk a lonely road, unknown road to a mysterious place. He walked a well-worn path to a well-known place. My Dad went the way of all the earth. He is now, because he placed faith in Jesus, with Jesus and is finding more satisfaction that ever dreamed of on earth. It is comforting in these days as I continue to process this grief.
There is a resurrection from the dead Scripture teaches. There is no reincarnation. One day we will be held accountable for our life and one day our spirits will be reunited with our bodies. Believers in Jesus will be joined with him and will live in victory over sin and evil. That's beautiful for me and is no longer a concept. It has become real.
I am thankful for my Dad and I had told him so on several occasions. I was not/am not an easy person to deal with at times. He was a hard worker and an honest man who sought out truth and justice. He loved my Mom and was dedicated to her. He loved his sons and his daughter. He was a provider and a great example. My mom is a beautiful woman who captures my admiration more and more everyday.
Thank you for reading this and for praying for our family.
Jason
Barb and I left as soon as we could and arrived home at 4pm the following day. Joy and grief are very similar in that they can both take you by surpirse. As a family we wept hard and often. And we often took comfort in Dad's faith in Jesus Christ which secures for him a Christ-ful eternity.
I grew up on the same plot of ground for 21 years. Mom and Dad lived on three acres that is adjacent to about 30 acres of farmland. Dad and the rest of my family loved(s) working the earth and last week while Barb and I were there we saw the garden he had planted--peas, beans, okra, eggplant, squash, and two fruit trees. The garden was young, planted not too long ago with roots going deeper each day with the hope of a future harvest.
Along the east side of the garden is a creek that separates the 3 acres from the 30. Along the back of that creek are pines, water oaks, and various flowers and vegetation. Laying close to the garden was a pine tree that used to hug the bank of that creek until elemental forces pushed it down and it was forced to let go of its grip of the ground it had held onto for decades. Dad hooked a chain to it and drug it away with his 1968 Blue Ford Tractor. The void the tree left is still easily seen and I am learning that the deeper the roots the great the impact when it is taken away.
As we tended to the garden which is at the back of the 3 acres we saw the often walked ground that he and Mom have taken around the house, down the sloped back yard, past the shed and into the pasture with the burgeoning garden. Dad's footprints were still fresh in the garden. He walked that path and those rows many a morning and evening.
On Sunday we had visitation at the funeral home. Our family gathered in the estate room and the community came out to pay their last respects. Between 400-500 people stopped by, which was overwhelming and empowering. I've always known Dad as "dad" and never as co-worker, employee, friend, neighbor, or acquaintance. It was there that night that I was able to see how far reaching his silent roots had grown and gone out into the community and touched lives. Over and over again the supporters shed tears, gave hugs and noted Dad's character and integrity.
On Monday we had the funeral and Reverend Floyd Lamb gave the message. He is close to our family and has ministered to our family as Dad's parent's both died of cancer and he was also there when our sister, Lori Beth, was born with Down's Syndrome and had heart surgery. He spoke with passion and held Christ up to be glorified. He stated something that really stuck with me and I doubt that I will ever forget it. He said this--we often think of death as a lonely experience, that the deceased is hovering somewhere out there trying to find their way, but the Bible states otherwise. The Bible states that to be absent from the body, for the person who has Jesus as Lord, is to be with the Lord. He said that David's last words to his son Solomon was this, "I now go the way of all the earth." Dad didn't walk a lonely road, unknown road to a mysterious place. He walked a well-worn path to a well-known place. My Dad went the way of all the earth. He is now, because he placed faith in Jesus, with Jesus and is finding more satisfaction that ever dreamed of on earth. It is comforting in these days as I continue to process this grief.
There is a resurrection from the dead Scripture teaches. There is no reincarnation. One day we will be held accountable for our life and one day our spirits will be reunited with our bodies. Believers in Jesus will be joined with him and will live in victory over sin and evil. That's beautiful for me and is no longer a concept. It has become real.
I am thankful for my Dad and I had told him so on several occasions. I was not/am not an easy person to deal with at times. He was a hard worker and an honest man who sought out truth and justice. He loved my Mom and was dedicated to her. He loved his sons and his daughter. He was a provider and a great example. My mom is a beautiful woman who captures my admiration more and more everyday.
Thank you for reading this and for praying for our family.
Jason
Barb and I left as soon as we could and arrived home at 4pm the following day. Joy and grief are very similar in that they can both take you by surpirse. As a family we wept hard and often. And we often took comfort in Dad's faith in Jesus Christ which secures for him a Christ-ful eternity.
Monday, April 24, 2006
The Day I Grew 1/4 of an Inch
It would be anticlimatic if I said, "The day I grew 1/4 of an inch was last Thursday," so I will say more. I've been having numerous physical ailments from a perpetually inflamed achilles and knee on my left leg to muscles spasms all over. Well several weeks ago a friend said to me that he had went to a specialist, Amy Sable, in San Anselmo and that her help had made him realize some noteable success in his back/neck issues. He gifted me some visits to Amy, which to me is priceless.
So I went and filled out the form and then she measured my height. I was about 6' 3 3/4". In high school I was measured at 6' 4". So having shrunk was news to me. She then had me sit on my bum, straighten my legs out and try to reach toward my toes as far as I could. She measured me in a way that is too complicated to write for some reason. Anyway, she looked down at my fingertips and said, "Jason, I'm so glad you are here." Okay, so she then says roughly that I'm about 11 inches from an average person's reach. So, I'm less than average. My daily look in the mirror and memories of reports have told me as much.
She stretched me with the help of a machine with a pulley and such. I was expecting something more Adams Family; I was gladly disappointed. So for 1.5 hours she worked me over. She then measured me and I was a little over 6'4". Ah, and the best part was no growing pains.
So I went and filled out the form and then she measured my height. I was about 6' 3 3/4". In high school I was measured at 6' 4". So having shrunk was news to me. She then had me sit on my bum, straighten my legs out and try to reach toward my toes as far as I could. She measured me in a way that is too complicated to write for some reason. Anyway, she looked down at my fingertips and said, "Jason, I'm so glad you are here." Okay, so she then says roughly that I'm about 11 inches from an average person's reach. So, I'm less than average. My daily look in the mirror and memories of reports have told me as much.
She stretched me with the help of a machine with a pulley and such. I was expecting something more Adams Family; I was gladly disappointed. So for 1.5 hours she worked me over. She then measured me and I was a little over 6'4". Ah, and the best part was no growing pains.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Holy Week
So, it's sunny outside. Quite bright. It seems as if the earth has moved closer to that orb over tha past two months, which I guess, actually did happen. What did they call that? Oh, the axis.
The past weeks have been quite good. I've been reading through the Gospel of John and have really had some good study/devotional/prayer times while reading it. There are a lot of details that have been added to that story thanks to Earl Palmer's great but short book, "The Gospel John Wrote." He says so much with a third-world economy of words.
I recently met a man who is a church planting strategist. He's quite the fervent communicator. He is an ex-Marine who served in the Philipines during the 80's. While he was there, from what I understand, a nine-year-old girl came up to him and preached to him that Jesus was the only man that would ever end war. That moment has forever changed him. He began to follow Jesus. I was thinking of him today, mid-ways through Holy Week, and how he and his wife need some special prayers these days.
It's busy around here but things really can't get any better. Barb is healthy and happy and our relationship is totally rockin' right now. Perhaps it is the ballroom dancing classes we've been taking. Last night it was Salsa, the Swing, Foxtrot and general goofiness.
I hope that on the eve of Good Friday, that beautiful but scandolous night, that you since God's presence and pleasure. It was scandolous for him but has worked beauty for this world. May the deepest blessings from heaven be yours.
Jason
The past weeks have been quite good. I've been reading through the Gospel of John and have really had some good study/devotional/prayer times while reading it. There are a lot of details that have been added to that story thanks to Earl Palmer's great but short book, "The Gospel John Wrote." He says so much with a third-world economy of words.
I recently met a man who is a church planting strategist. He's quite the fervent communicator. He is an ex-Marine who served in the Philipines during the 80's. While he was there, from what I understand, a nine-year-old girl came up to him and preached to him that Jesus was the only man that would ever end war. That moment has forever changed him. He began to follow Jesus. I was thinking of him today, mid-ways through Holy Week, and how he and his wife need some special prayers these days.
It's busy around here but things really can't get any better. Barb is healthy and happy and our relationship is totally rockin' right now. Perhaps it is the ballroom dancing classes we've been taking. Last night it was Salsa, the Swing, Foxtrot and general goofiness.
I hope that on the eve of Good Friday, that beautiful but scandolous night, that you since God's presence and pleasure. It was scandolous for him but has worked beauty for this world. May the deepest blessings from heaven be yours.
Jason
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