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I decided to name my new mower “Cubbie”. After all, with a name I’ve never heard of plastered on the side emblazoned “Cub Cadet”, I figured that I would graduate the poor little guy from Cadet status to Cubbie status.
“You bought a Cubbie?!!!! You bought a Cubbie!!!! That there is as good as a Johnny Deer!!!”
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I then realized that I had scored points with him about the brand. I also realized that I had lost those same points immediately by not having heard of the brand … I like to do a victory lap before the race begins.
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I used to know how to mow the lawn. I was tagged to mow the jungle.
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That mower was the size of the go-cart that I never built but always dreamed I would. It was the kind that would pop a wheelie when you would hit the gas. Really. Now, I had a mower where the front wheels lifted up on their own rather than the back wheels lifting up from exertion. I’m pretty sure my nine-year old neighbor behind me secretly wanted to cut my lawn. But he was already stylin’ in his brand new monster mower his Dad got at Sears. The kind with the huge flume along the side that sucked the grass into the amazing grass holding tank in the back. I think it had eight speeds.
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I’ve never been the most athletic guy. For most of my adult life, I have avoided great physical exertion for the purpose of being healthy and fit. Actually, those moments of” blood, sweat and tears” were almost always the result of helping a friend move. And the pain I would feel for the next several days was a great reminder of two things. |
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I have learned to embrace a key promise that God makes. | |
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There was a time when I considered myself physically fit.
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Don’t try and pass a car on an icy two-lane country road in the dark three days after getting your driver’s license. Don’t play Nintendo Wii Tennis for three straight days over New Years when you haven’t had any physical activity in the past 4.3 years.
It was time to purchase the short-shorts and knee high socks and join the local gym.
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For seven years my Ford Ranger pick-up served as the proverbial “work” car. It got me to the train station and back. It had a vinyl bench seat, manual transmission and no a/c. I rarely put anything in the bed of the truck with the exception of four sand bags from Lowe’s during the winter. The Ranger had two “stereo” speakers. One in each door. And each of those were only 15 watts.
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So I wandered over to the stereo aisle and witnessed a wall of sound devices that looked like Mission Control in Houston. I didn’t know where to begin. But it didn’t matter. There were lots of buttons and car stereo faceplates with blue, red or green LCD displays. I started pushing them like Will Ferrell in the movie "Elf". It was magical ... and manly ... After signing over the six months of pay necessary to have “quality” sound while sitting on the vinyl bench seats of the Ranger, I proceeded home trying to think of a good story to tell Lara. I mused about how I might fake the receipt with a pencil and eraser much like my 3rd grade report card …
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Radio was once something that I wanted to do for a living. In fact, I used to be pretty proud of my acceptance to Ball State University's communication program back in 1990. Lara said that she would be my biggest listener fan ... I've learned that life almost never goes they way I want it too. Especially if it involves my "plans". That's why I ended up in the Navy back then. It wasn't even on my radar, let alone part of my life goals and plans at the time ... At the same time, I am convinced that God directs our paths. When we let Him. So much for radio ... And then there was this morning (and the 30 & 60 second mortgage commercial spots I wrote and recorded in 2000) .... Through a series of events that I did not pursue, I found myself on the radio with a regional "pure" country radio station. And I don't even listen to country ... But at least it was a radio moment ... |
| For 10 minutes I had the privilege of chatting on-air with the "on-air personality" (aka DJ). I decided to save my joke about how my initials are also DJ ... It seemed pretty funny to me when I was 17 ... Good thing he didn't challenge my limited knowledge of country music trivia ... My deep "morning radio" voice was also in full swing while chugging on my home-brewed Christmas Blend from Starbucks in my stainless steel travel mug with the warped base from going through the dishwasher ... Instead, I seized the opportunity to share with the listeners that church is not about religion. It's about a relationship. With God. And with people. It's that simple. I encouraged the listeners to consider checking out the upcoming live nativity that our community of faith is offering this weekend on Friday and Saturday night. I let them know that we don't do this as a gimmick or "hook" to get them to come to church. We do it, for no other reason than to be a blessing to them. The funny thing is, Lara forgot to turn the radio on and only caught that last few seconds .... So much for the "listener fan" thing ... At least I had a radio moment ... | |
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There was a time when my daily goal was to just get through the day. It was usually those days when I knew I had so much to accomplish that I actually didn’t have a clue how I would get it all done.
It’s actually similar to our walk with Christ. The idea of growing up and becoming more and more like Him.
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I’ve learned that transformation and spiritual growth is a journey, not a destination. Spiritual maturity is a process that happens over time.
We can never fully be like Jesus 100% while in this body, on this earth. As followers of Jesus, we can’t be completely like Him until we see Him face to face in eternity.
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We had never met them before. It was Thursday night and Lara and I anxiously looked forward to how it would go. Our new small group (life group or community group) was starting in fifteen minutes and I had absolutely no idea who these twelve people were.
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| The library is a magical place. Few places allow you to hang out in the lap of a giant teddy bear to chill with a good book for a while. There's also something about the availability of a gazillion books available to read without having to pay a dime. It's the genius of borrowing. (Benefits me.) At the same time, there are usually guidelines and boundaries to the process of borrowing. And when those boundaries are broken there are penalties. It's the genius of late fees. (Benefits the library.) I went with Lara to return some books the other day. (It was really an excuse to peruse the obscure collection of cd's that are available for check-out. I discovered that I could take home every Christmas cd known to mankind for the entire month of August. I also learned that the Spice Girls parlayed their two hit songs from '94 into a greatest hits cd?) After Lara grabbed a few books and I grabbed a few cd's we headed on over to check out. Lara kindly told the woman behind the counter that we probably had a few dollars in late fees to pay. I'm not certain how it's possible to rack up $28 at the local library. But I do know one thing. It's the genius of late fees. Ouch. At least I can listen to some old school Hootie and the Blowfish and Huey Lewis and the News for the month of August ... |
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We were not made to do life alone. We were made to do life in community with God and in community with other people. Being in community requires intentionality. It is not God’s desire or design that we live unto ourselves. Doing life together in the context of intentional and purposeful community is God’s intent. In the local church, living these out in the small group setting can make all the difference in your faith journey. Call it a Small Group a Life Group a Cell Group or a Community Group. It’s still a community of people doing life and faith together. And it matters that you connect.
I have learned that to ensure an ongoing vibrant relationship with God, I have got to be intentional. I have got to be relentless in the pursuit of fulfilling my purpose for my existence. Bringing glory to God.
It is the development of the desire, passion and willingness to allow God to work in me and through me to bring the myself and those around me infancy in Christ to maturity in Christ. It is the idea that people must move from isolation to connection and from loneliness to love. This is a passion that God has given everyone who bears the name of Christ. It is the desire of a heart surrendered to God that cries out and conforms to Christ and becomes part one of the greatest ministries on the planet.
The effectiveness of this application can be measured in nothing less than life-change; the ongoing transformation into the likeness of Christ
Bringing glory to God is what doing life together in healthy community accomplishes.
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I'm covered. |
| Dressing up for work (and for church) used to be a thing for me. It might have something to do with the creases I used to iron into my uniforms while in the Navy. It might have something to do with the obsession I have with making sure my t-shirt looks presentable too (the part that shows above your shirt). And so I iron the top part of my t-shirt. Really. It might have something to do with the GQ book I read years ago about clothing man-rules. Here's a few. 1. Belts should always match the shoes. 2. Suspenders (braces) and belts should never be worn at the same time. 3. Ties should be an accent to your appearance and not the focus. Here's the problem. 1. I started wearing sandals to work on occasion. (Flip flops hurt my toes.) 2. I haven't worn my wall-street suspenders since 2001. 3. I only wear ties now for weddings and funerals that I officiate at. |
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| For me, dressing up for work (and church) is not as important as it once was. (or seemed). At ACC, we encourage folks to "come as you are". It's a simple philosophy actually. Connecting with God and other people has nothing to do with what you wear or how you look. It's about a heart surrendered to God. Looking sharp in the church building used to be a big deal for me. It's not anymore. Come as you are. I'll probably be wearing casual pants (or jeans), sandals (on occasion), relaxed shirt, and t-shirt that I obsessively ironed underneath.... What about you? | |
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I love it, when people get it. I love it when folks see ministry as the responsibility of all Christ-followers and not just those who are "ministers" as a vocation. I love it when people accept a gift. No strings attached. No score-keeping. Last Friday, a family at ACC stopped in during the day and asked if I would do them a favor. They wanted to know if I would be willing to drop off some groceries for a family that they knew of in the local community who had fallen on hard times. The plan was that they would go out and purchase the groceries and stop back by and place them in the General Ki and I would then deliver them. (This "giving" family wanted to remain anonymous so as not to affect their relationship with the "receiving" family.) And so they did. And so I did. |
| I drove to the family's apartment and told the shocked lady at the door that someone wanted to bless them and that I had the privilege of simply being the guy who was able to bring the blessing by. She only opened the door as wide as the chain lock would allow. She was highly suspicious that someone would give something to her for free. I told her that I didn't want anything from her at all. I told her that there really IS such a thing as a free lunch. After several moments of suspicion, confusion and utter bewilderment (she almost completely refused), the woman relented and sent her two sons down to the General Ki for the ten-plus bags of fresh groceries. After a few trips up and down the sidewalk and some chit-chat about marching band percussion sections, I said good-bye to these young men. You see, there are a lot of people who are chained up in the comfort of their home and are suspicious that God would offer them eternal life. For free. They're convinced that they don't want anything to do with God; standing on the other side of the door. They're suspicious. And they barely crack the door to seek Him or understand why He would desire to bless them. And sadly, they either leave the door shut, or reject the offer. As I drove away, I prayed that this moment would have been a seed planted in her heart and in the hearts of her teenage children. A seed about how God offers grace to all of us. It's free. None of us deserve it. All of us have access to it. We simply receive it through faith. And then we praise and thank God for this greatest blessing of all. We serve a big God. It's humbling to be an instrument to bless other people. It's all part of the Plan. His. Not ours. I love it when people get it... I love it when people open the door of their hearts and accept the free gift of grace through faith in Jesus. | |
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I’ve always enjoyed a good story. Stories connect with people. Especially stories that are about things that we can relate to.
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| Seventeen in twenty-two. It's the number of people of who have given their life to Christ at ACC in the first twenty-two weeks (five months) of 2008. It's the number of people at ACC who's eternity has been transformed before our very eyes. It's the number of people at ACC who didn't have their "stuff" dealt with before laying it before Christ. It's the number of people at ACC who have accepted Christ's free offer of forgiveness from the sin in their life. It's the number of people at ACC who surrendered & decided they were tired of doing life their way. It's the number of people at ACC who have recognized that without Christ, their life will always seem meaningless, hopeless and pointless. It's the number of people at ACC who who became a new creation in Christ. It's the number of people at ACC who have begun a new journey of being a Christ-follower. Seventeen in twenty-two. God is awesome. |
| Growing. It's acknowledging one thing.
Refinement.
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This graduate "intensive" class doubles as a masters-level course as well as a doctorate-level class depending on what program you're in. There are guys at both levels in there. | |
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| Drinking from a garden hose was one of my favorite things to do in the summer when I was a kid. I can still taste it. The best part was how refreshing it was after running around the yard like a wild man playing tag with the neighbor kids. The next best part was holding my thumb across the end to create the famous "jet spray". The next-next best part was trying to whip my friends with the hose before they tackled me for spraying them down ... The last several days have been a blur. (My present day wild man pace.)
I miss Lara and the girls. |
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| Life-change. It's when we stop looking inward for meaning and start looking upward for truth. It's what happens when our life intersects with the truth of God. It's the moment that we stop trying to do life our way and begin doing life God's way. It's the moment that we throw our hands up in the air and surrender. It's the moment that we change clothes; we take off our old self and put on Christ. It's the moment we bury who we were (the person I thought I was) and begin a new life (the person I'm supposed to be). I witnessed a man last Friday, deep six who he was. I witnessed that same man become a new creation in Christ Jesus. He decided to stop living for himself and to begin living for God. He gave his life to Jesus and was baptized. The very next day, I witnessed another man on Saturday throw his hands up. He had been watching someone in his life be transformed into the likeness of Christ over the last five months. That person's story of life-change was having an impact on him. He wanted life-change too. His heart was ripe. The soil of his life had been tilled and was ready for the truth of God to be planted in his heart. And it was. Right there on my back porch. That's when we had a man-hug. You know the kind. It's when two grown men only reach half way around the other and try to avoid their facial hair coming together like velcro. And then you get a firm grip on each other's upper arms and hold for 3.7 seconds; testing the firmness of their biceps. And then you look down at the ground and back away from each other. It's a man-hug. And it happened again on Sunday when that same guy had that goofy smile of peacefulness on his face when he came up out of the water. Clean. A new creation in Christ. He was just baptized. That man-hug was a wet one. It was awesome. My shirt dried off later as I drove hope praying for him with the windows down in the General Ki. Life-change. It's what happens when God gets a hold of your heart. It's what happens when we stop resisting Him. It's when we allow Jesus to give us a man-hug. It's when we stop looking inward for meaning and start looking upward for truth. |
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I tend to have control issues at times. I want to figure things out and solve problems. That's usually when I become overwhelmed. And life starts piling up all around me. Surrounding me. Choking me.
Here is the text to encourage you from Mark 4:35 – 41. |
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| Hanging out in the ER is not my first idea of a way to spend an evening alone with Lara. Yet, last night, we tried it anyway. The result of cavalier trash smashing. I had a firm grip on my right index finger with my left hand for three hours. Much like the song "This Little Light of Mine". I guess you could say it looked as though I was hiding my light under a bushel.... After 30 minutes in the waiting room we were called back. (The lady at the desk said that we had come at a good time because the wait throughout the day was averaging 6 hours.) After some preliminary vitals and sharing of personal information (no I am NOT strung out on any controlled substances and no I do NOT have any known allergies...) we were transferred to another room. But not before I was "tagged" on my wrist lest I start running for the door. On the way to the room where we would spend the rest of our date, I noticed a young handsome admin assistant interning behind a desk named Andy. He looked like he had just fished planning a graduation frat party at the local community college. So, off we go down the hall to the "room". That's where we had the "insurance" conversation along with the "Can my wife sign this stuff because I'm hiding my light under a bushel right now" conversation. And then we noticed a wall-mount tv with a chick-flick (What Women Want) playing on TBS. I thought, "Hmm, a TV in the ER. Nice. This will be much more enjoyable than playing with all of the medical equipment and oxygen valves on the walls while waiting for the doctor ..." And then he came in. Andy the Frat Party Intern. In a lab coat. With fancy embroidery on his left lapel. That's when I noticed that there were two peculiar letters after his name. M.D. That could mean only one thing. "Catch Me if You Can" There was no WAY Andy the Frat Party Intern was a doctor!!! He's younger than me!!!! He must be on the lam from a fedora-wearing Tom Hanks!!! And then he convinced me of something ... I was right. We watched him fumble around with the medical equipment and mumble to himself something about an "incomplete kit". He told me to remove my light from the bushel and lay my hand on the table while he went to the other room for something he "forgot". I told him that if I did that, my light would drip my life blood all over the table. He said, "Let's see." And so I did. And so he did. He agreed that I should keep my light under the bushel until he returned. We went back to watching the chick-flick while waiting for Dr. Frat Party to return. He came back in and made 11 punctures around the base of my index finger on the top of my hand, in-between my fingers and underneath. That hurt. He then said he'd return in 5 - 10 minutes after the anesthesia took affect. And so we went back to watching the chick-flick. Again. 45 minutes later, Junior walked in again and asked me if my finger was numb yet. I wanted to say something like, "Hello! It's been almost an hour since you poked me like a ginormous potato about to be placed in the microwave! Of course it's numb!!!" And so Dr. Frat Party took the curvy needle and some fishing wire (ala Rambo) and went to work on my finger. I have to admit, he didn't learn those knots in Boy Scouts. After a few more minutes of fumbling around, he completed his Senior Project and told us that a nurse would be in a few minutes to discharge us. And so we went back to watching the chick-flick. Again. 50 minutes later, a nurse walked in, had me sign some papers (with my bad hand) and let us go. Our date was over. As we walked down the hall, I waved at Dr. Frat Party across the ER admin area. I was certain he was sitting back down at a desk putting the finishing touches on his Senior Project... Truth be told. I did ask him how long he had been a Doc. He said he was 31 years old and had been a Doc for 6 years. Hmm. I know what he was really thinking ... "Catch Me if You Can" Another night out together. The only downside. We missed the last ten minutes of the chick-flick. The upside. I didn't have to hide my light under a bushel anymore. And I got a cool bracelet with my name on it too. |
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Memorial Day weekend is good for three things. 1. remembering the ultimate sacrifice of those who gave their life while serving our country. 2. enjoying time together with family and friends. 3. finding obscure reasons to hang out in the ER. We buried the needle on the temperature gage on the grill on the back porch. It was a record for us. Exceeding 680 degrees because of the fat-fire from the steaks dripping fat into the bottom of the grill. The flames were sassy. The steak was awesome. And it required a tasty dessert to go with it ... Flannery's Delight is a wonderful concoction of chocolate pudding, cherry pie filling, whipped cream, crumbled Oreo's and yesterday, the new addition of chunks of brownies - all layered in a clear dessert bowl (the kind with the fancy stem on the bottom). The problem is this ... Cherry pie filling comes in a can. And cans have sharp lids when they're cut off and laying in the trash can. When you're entertaining, it's easy to fill up trash can in the kitchen. And for nearly seventeen years, it has been our space-saving habit to "smash" the trash into the can when it gets too full (making more room for more trash and thus delaying the inevitable trip to the dumpster in the garage for a little while longer.) |
| Yesterday evening, I smashed the trash. Just like we always do. And as I smashed the trash... I smashed my index and middle finger across the cherry-pie filling can lid camouflaged in the trash. I've had many cuts over the years. And somehow, someway, I just "know". I "know" when a cut is actually one of those cuts. The kind of cut that require more than a few curse words and a trip to the kitchen sink. This injury was one of those. Three hours and three stitches later my index finger throbs in sync with my heart beat. The habitual trash-smashing needs to be re-thought. The worst part of the entire night was .... I didn't even get one bite of Flannery's Delight. | |
| I'm usually not into chick flicks. At the same time, I consider myself a sensitive guy. I'm finishing up one of my graduate classes on marriage counseling. My coursework requires me to choose two movies with a strong marital theme and extract concepts and thoughts that could be used in the counseling setting. I briefly considered t The Incredibles would be a good start ... Ala, "Baby! Where's my super suit!" I needed something more though ... As I flipped through our dvd collection at the house to work on movie #2, I found the "chick flick" section. You know the one. Movies that you leave for your wife to watch when you're stuck working late. Or movies to watch when you're stuck in the dog house and need to have some "together" time. Movies that most men would never confess to watching alone. And there it was. The consummate ineedatishoo chick flick right there next to Beaches...... The Notebook. I asked Lara if she wanted to watch it with me (cause men don't watch chick flicks alone). She said she wasn't in the mood to cry. |
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| I was stuck. For God and country. I decided to take one for the team. I would have to watch a chick flick alone. And so I fire up the laptop and plug in the speakers and sit back in my chair with my own notebook to extract the concepts and ideas I would write about in my paper. I mustered all the manliness that I could and settled in, determined not to let this flick get to me. I should have known better. I fell in love with Lara 19 years ago. And I never imagined in my wildest dreams that my capacity to love her would increase over the years. The Notebook made me weep like a baby. I couldn't hold it together. Especially when Lara walks in the room right when the movie ends. There was no hiding it. I was caught in a non-manly moment. I had been Notebooked. Serving God and growing old with the woman who I pledged to honor, cherish and love is a holy privilege. My love for Lara welled over in my heart and in my eyes. In all it's sappiness, this movie reminded me that love is a choice. It's intentional. It requires effort. And marriage is like a triangle with God at the top and the man and woman at each corner. The closer the couple draws closer to God the closer they draw to each other. It's all about priorities and remembering our first love, God; and the gift that our spouses are to us. May I always keep God first. Lara second. Our children third. Church fourth. and Me fifth. I think we should all be Notebooked now and then. Ineedatishoo. | |
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Furniture shopping is different than other kinds of shopping. Besides being one of the only places where you can lay down while shopping, it is surprisingly tiring. I am amazed about how sore my thighs get from these outings. It must be becuase I'm doing squats for a few hours to some eclectic music overhead while you're trying not to snag my cell phone on the latest micro-fiber upholstery... I can't possibly be that I'm tired simply because I'm out of shape... |
| At the same time, there is the oddity of having someone following Lara & I and the kids around the ginormous store. Maybe you've met him... Joe Bifrumeenow. And he won't leave us alone. He hovers. And watches us intently. And then tries to answer questions we're not asking. And then we ditch him around the corner by the buffets and china cabinets. All is well. And we're left alone. Just me and my family. Doing squats. Up and down on forty-three different couches. We're doing the "Tooshy Test"; testing the furniture for comfort and lower-back support. Occasionally we find the recliner and stretch out while making silly noises of utter relaxation and contentment. I convince the kids that I'm "resting" my eyes for a few moments. We even play a quick game of "I Spy". I see something "black". And it takes my youngest a few minutes to realize that Dad's spying the inside of his eyelids.... After standing up, I notice something out of the corner of my eye. It's him. Joe Bifrumeenow. And he's watching us from across the showroom floor. And then we lock eyes. He makes his move to come "check on us". We thank him and shuffle out the front door into the blustery puffy cloud day. My thighs hurt and I'm tired. I think I'll go home and test out the living room sofa and play another round of "I Spy"... | |
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Learning about God (listening) is good. | |
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It's been a family joke for years that my brother-in-law will manage to paint his shirt with whatever he happens to be eating. At the same time, I can't seem to wear a white shirt without a blob of coffee finding it's way on to the center of my shirt. I've also ruined a few dress shirts by putting my pen in my shirt pocket without putting the cap back on. That was painful. I'm a stain magnet. I admit it. This morning I pulled out one of our ginormous coffee cups. It was the Mickey Mouse mug we paid too much for at one of the 137 gift shops at the Magic Kingdom in Orlando in 2005. And then we realized that we were out of half-and-half and that the 2% milk just won't do. But then, that's what ice cream is for. It makes for a great clutch play for a decadent coffee experience. And so Lara dropped a scoop of the ice cream into the empty cup and poured the piping hot freshly ground and brewed Starbucks Gold Coast over the top as the coffee became nice and foamy with a slight blob of ice cream that hadn't fully melted yet. |
| I sit down in the living room while the music is playing; the children are playing "elephant" with some over sized blankets over their bodies as they crawl around the floor crashing into each other giggling. I go for my first sip of the decadent coffee with the ice cream blob floating in the middle and then it happened. My soul patch caught the ice cream blob and my white shirt I had just spent 20 minutes ironing caught the Gold Coast. Lara laughed at me as I raced in to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. Of course my only option was to grab that last little piece of paper towel that is glued to the brown tube ... I'm a stain magnet. It's that simple. I just can't get away from it. It's actually the same with our life. People are stain magnets. We have the stain of sin finding it's way on to us all the time. What's awesome as that Jesus washes away our sin. He doesn't cover it up. He washes that stain away. In fact, He makes us whiter than snow. He took on the stain of sin for all of us and actually became sin for us. Only Jesus can deal with the stain of sin in our life. Through faith and belief in Jesus we can receive the free gift of "stain removal". I decided not to change shirts today. I needed to be reminded of how awesome Jesus is and how un-awesome I am. Stains (sin) will always find me. I'm a stain magnet. At the same time, Jesus will always clean me ... When I ask Him (becuase I'm sorry I grieved Him and not simply becuase I got caught or stuck in a bad situation) and allow Him to (when I fully surrender my sin to Him and let Him clean me up without trying to clean my self up.) | |
| I remember going out on my grandparent’s 12-person boat on Black Lake There are the great memories of learning to water ski (thumbs up to go faster, thumbs down to go slower) and tying my swim trunks extra tight to avoid any mishaps when I fell. My favorite place to water ski was outside the wake of the boat. It was always calmer and smoother outside the wake. The challenge was always breaking over the crest of the wake to get there. Usually, that’s exactly when I would wipe out. |
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Getting out of the rough waters of the boat’s wake required going over the biggest rough spot of all before going into the “promised land” of the smooth glass-like waters outside the wake. | |
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I have a thing about smells. Especially when it's me. Ever since I received that first bottle of Avon cologne in 6th grade from my Grandma Thompson, I've been all over smelling good. In fact, my dresser is a hall of fame of men's cologne. A little dab'll do ya. Right? But then there's the soap factor. I like a good soap that won't ex foliate every layer of skin in one use; usually bar soap. The problem with bar soap is that after two weeks or so, it becomes the size of an oblong penny. Much like the penny crunchers at the mall that you can grind flat or that piece of silly putty that gets hard after sitting out on the table all night. |
| I try to use that bar to the very end. And then it cracks in half and I have to fuse them back together to get a good lather on the washcloth. It's like a hard taco shell that breaks right down the middle. It's a button for me; a nerve-ending connected directly to the irritation gland in the middle of my head. Broken soap and cracked tacos are small stuff that I seem to sweat. The other morning, that little remnant was completely unusable, and I had a choice to make. To use Lara's girly-soap or not to. It's that girly liquid soap in a pink squeezable bottle that smells like mangos and tulips on the kitchen window sill in spring time. The other day, I decided that desperate times required desperate measures... So I used the girly-soap. I was out of my man-soap and had to smell like a girl all day. The good news is that I didn't have tacos for dinner. | |
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| There is a certain "feeling" that comes over your entire person when you see flashing lights in your rear view mirror. It's that numb kind of "aw man, I can't believe he got me. Where was he hiding at ...." And then there's the classic question the police officer asks ... "Do you know why I pulled you over?" It's just like when Dad & Mom would call me upstairs from my bedroom when I was a kid. I was certain I was busted. I just wasn't certain exactly for "what" I was busted for. And so I start searching my mind for all of the stuff that I could possibly get in trouble for. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" (All I could hear in my head was, "Bad boys, bad boys. Whatcha gonna do when they come for you. Bad boys. Bad boys ...") Hmm. I wanted to say something like, "Well officer, is it for my broken tail lights, my tags bungee-corded to the rear panel, my cracked windshield from the dump truck on the highway this morning, the styrofoam peanuts that were blowing out of my window for the last 3.7 miles around suburbia, the stop sign I just rolled through or the illegal lane movement I just made while trying to sip my piping hot Starbucks?" Instead, I said what every good law-abiding citizen says. "No sir. Would you be kind enough to share with me exactly what obscure Maryland law I just flagrantly violated before I file a Clergy Harassment report." He said, "Your Maryland emissions expired last June. You should have received something in the mail last summer as a reminder." "Really? How on earth did you learn that?" "Mr. Thompson, I didn't have anything to do so I ran your plates while toodeling along behind you while you were singing that one Toad the Wet Sprocket song from 1992. Can I see your license and insurance?" Nice. The pastor is two blocks from his house on the way home from work and sitting on a residential street as the entire neighborhood gathers on their front porches to see what the squad car lights are all about. I wanted to get out of the General Ki and explain to everyone that I wasn't really a bad person and that I really didn't have black smoke coming out of my tail pipes. I wanted to explain that I received my Maryland State Vehicle Inspection in February of last year to get my plates and didn't realize that I still had to have another part of my vehicle inspected four months later. In Indiana, you couldn't get your plates without a current emissions test.... The moms and dads on the front porches covered the eyes of their children and sent them inside to finish diner while the Bad Pastor got it. I thanked the officer for the warning. And drove the remaining two blocks to our house. That "numb" feeling didn't go away for about an hour. Then I got to go back to church and teach class ... Lara & I switched cars today while she has the General Ki emissions testing completed and up to date. Now if I could only get the cracked windshield fixed ... Bad boys. Bad boys. |
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Attending church doesn't require much effort beyond the motivation to roll out of bed and into a building. What if we stopped attending church ... ... and started being the church.
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It’s a “roll-your-sleeves-up” approach where folks do something sacrificial and servant-minded. When Jesus washed the feet of His closest followers He gave them this directive… Go and do likewise.
What does it look like to personally serve God? What does it look like to personally serve other people? Is my "serve" sacrificial?
Neighborhood redevelopment (i.e. painting run-down houses, cleaning up empty lots, painting over graffiti) Grant-a-wish” service projects for needy families in the church Adopt-a-room or apartment for an elderly or needy person Special delivery care packages Senior service projects Disaster relief kits Blanket or sock drive for the homeless Car clinic Computer clinic Health & Wellness Fair Art fair “Adopt” a public school with school supply kits Professional clothing drive for job seekers Baby showers for pregnancy clinic. Invite teenage girls to shop for free formal dresses donated by church members Community clean-up of a park or beach, followed by a picnic lunch for everyone there Let local firefighters know how much we appreciate them with a breakfast or lunch at their station Shop for the disabled and seniors at ACC Zoo-safari with disadvantaged children, or take them to other outings in the Metro DC/Baltimore area. Distribute food and household supplies in attractive baskets for families suffering with illness or other crises Parking meter feeding Gasoline giveaway Flower seeds during spring Moving day burgers or pizza at apartments or dorms Grocery cart return service Love baskets for families in crisis Bag of quarters giveaway outside the local Laundromat Mother’s Day flowers Beautification of ACC landscaping and grounds Clean-a-Garage/Basement for single parents or the elderly at ACC Spring Cleaning Projects at needy families at ACC
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