Why? redux

As I continue my journey into the imponderables of the Christian life, I ran into another thing that we as Christians do almost reflexively. Yet I have never understood why we do it. That thing is standing every time we sing. Why on earth do we do that?

Does the music sound better 6 feet off the floor than it does 3 feet off the floor? Do our voices sound better to us or God? Are we closer to God because we are standing? I just don't get it.

This past Sunday I chose not to stand for some of the songs. Partially because I have an aching right knee (prayers appreciated) and partially because I had some stuff on my mind that I was praying about. And I pray better sitting than standing.

A well-meaning young man in the congregation was prompting me to stand, and I had to politely tell him that I wasn't going to, which made me ask why do we do this anyway? In the current church era, the 20-minute song sets get a bit tiring on my aging legs. If I wanted to stand that long, I would go to a Pink Floyd concert and wave my lighter.

Seriously, does anyone know why we do this?

Grave Robbing

One of my favorite movie scenes is in "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" The plague comes to town and a man goes through the village with a cart collecting the dead so they can take them out of town to prevent the spread of this dread disease. A bit of a discussion ensues between the dead collector, the person carrying the dead person (who isn't dead yet) and the nearly dead person. You really have to watch the movie to see that scene. But it illustrates a larger point about dead things. You can't let them hang around. And you can't bring them back.

Colossians 3;3 speaks to this "For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God." We are dead in Christ. But so many of us keep digging up our old life and dragging it around, long after it was buried.

How many of you know people who have been in Christ for years, but keep dragging around hurts and injustices from back in the day? They hold onto them like prized possessions and get them out whenever they need a crutch. And that is another separate topic.

When we were born again, our past was nailed to Christ's cross. So whatever was done to us is gone, because it was done to a dead person. That is part of the victory we have in Christ. But we diminish that victory if we keep digging up the stinking corpse and strapping it to our bodies as a shield. It's gross, it smells, and no one will recognize it for what it once was.

Let the dead rest. Including all of the sins we committed and the ones committed against us. Christ paid the price and buried them. Leave them there.

Update

Previously I mentioned that pretty teachers who have sex with students don't have to go to jail, a la Debra LaFave. She is the stunning blonde accused of having sex with a male student.

Well this story out of Indiana gives me hope. It appears that 1) there are jurors with brains in Indiana; or 2) she wasn't that pretty. She didn't even touch the kids and got 9 years. Debra LaFave has a book and movie deal I am sure.

God help this country. We are becoming Rome.

Jesus is All I Need

When Caedmon's Call released their "Share The Well" CD, it caught me as I was preparing for my first mission trip to Guatemala. This is one of the greatest CDs I have heard in my life. It is not the most radio-friendly CD, but the songs just rip at my heart. Take this one for example:

All I Need (I Did Not Catch Her Name)

I did not catch her name
I did not catch her tears
But they hit me like a train
When her story hit my ears
Mother of eight sons
Father off to war
Got no home address
Just bricks on a dirt floor
And she said, "Jesus is all I need"

Tiny plot of land
Corn stored up in piles
The years it doesn't rain
They just stay hungry for a while
With no fatted calf to kill
She made a feast of cuy and corn and said
Who else knew my name before
The day that I was born
Jesus is all I need
Jesus is all I need

And she bragged about her boys
And how they're growing into men
And how the learned to praise the Lord
Old style Ecuadorian
But to buy the new guitar
We had to sell the swine
See my boys go to school on a foreign angel's dime

This world calls me poor
I bore my babies on this floor
But He always provides
Sure as the sun will rise
So I sing Him songs of praise
'Cause I know He keeps me in His gaze

Rain fell from the sky
We raced back to the van
Tears in the eyes
Of this poor forgetful man
Mother of eight sons
She knows the peace of God
Lord, help me learn to lean on
Thy staff and Thy rod

Jesus is all I need
Jesus is all I need
Jesus is all I need
Jesus is all I need

How do you not see the simple faith that Jesus talked so much about. No complex theology, no seminars, no books on how to live your best, purpose-driven life. Just the simple faith of relying on a God who continually delivers what she needs.

Ecuador is no paradise, but God is alive and moving in the hearts of the people there. I yearn for a faith unencumbered by the stuff that invades my life here. God help us to lean on you, and you alone.

Why?

Why do we do what we do? Have we really sat and thought about the reasons why we do stuff? Especially church stuff?

A theology class I am taking recently forced me to think about what is embedded -taught by others and accepted by me -, and what is deliberative - what I have thought through and learned by asking questions. No shocker here, but I am more deliberative in my theology.

For example, why do we believe what we believe about creation? Some people are literal 7-day folks. Others see the Genesis account as more metaphorical than literal. Some see 2 creations in Genesis, with an intervening time between them. Others, like me, are say " I believe God created everything" and don't get into the discussion of 7 literal days. I've chosen that route because I just don't know the answer and I don't believe anyone on earth today has a definitive answer on the question of a 7 day creation. And I don't think it really matters. But I do wonder why we believe what we do.

That's really the question. Is it because of the church we attend? The way we were raised? Because we are trying to impress someone? Or have we truly searched the scriptures, sought God's face, and believe this is the answer He has given us?

Will our entire theology collapse if we do not believe in this issue. Or is this just something we have been taught and reflexively spout when asked.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

The apocalypse

In a previous post I mentioned that the Detroit Tigers were in first place, which was causing a cosmic disturbance of epic proportions. Folks, it is much worse than that. The Tigers are in the World Series. And they are the favorite by most accounts.

This is really big. This is a team that set the American League record for losses three years ago when they posted a splendid 43-119 record. That is a record only surpassed by the New York Mets when they were an expansion team.

Yet three years later, the Tigers have mown down the mighty Yankees and swept the A's. My head is spinning.

I'm piling up my mashed potatoes and heading for Devil's Tower. I'm sure that something is coming, alien or apocalypse. I just want to be prepared.

Humility

Do you ever have one of those "God Moments" that just humbles you to your core? One of those times when a truth is spectacularly revealed to you or the Spirit speaks so clearly that it is unmistakeable? They are not frequent for me, but I just had one.

The Lord spoke to me through a person who told me that I am where I am for a specific purpose, and then spoke about that purpose. Without giving away details, he told me how my knowledge, skills, and gifts etc. assisted him with an ongoing issue. I didn't think a great deal about it at the moment, because I changed the subject (which is how I deflect praise) but later that night the Spirit clearly spoke to me about it.

All of the grief, trouble and heartache that put us there now pale in comparison with the thought that I was sent by God for a specific purpose and task. What a humbling thought that is to me. We came to the thought that God may be using me as a transitional figure, which, looking at my past, is a possiblity. Like John the Baptist, I may be used to end one era and usher in a new one. In many ways I hope that is not the case, because that implies a great deal of change and bumping and rubbing. But, God is sovereign and I am not

Miracles and Wonders

In Paul Simon's masterful Graceland album, there is a song called "Boy in the Bubble" that describes the world 20 years later.

The Boy In The Bubble

It was a slow day
And the sun was beating
On the soldiers by the side of the road
There was a bright light
A shattering of shop windows
The bomb in the baby carriage
Was wired to the radio

These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby don’t cry
Don’t cry

It was a dry wind
And it swept across the desert
And it curled into the circle of birth
And the dead sand
Falling on the children
The mothers and the fathers
And the automatic earth
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in the corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby don’t cry
Don’t cry

It’s a turn-around jump shot
It’s everybody jump start
It’s every generation throws a hero up the pop charts
Medicine is magical and magical is art
The Boy in the Bubble
And the baby with the baboon heart

And I believe
These are the days of lasers in the jungle
Lasers in the jungle somewhere
Staccato signals of constant information
a loose affiliation of millionaires
And billionaires and baby
These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry baby don’t cry
Don’t cry

© 1986 Paul Simon
Music by Paul Simon and Forere Motloheloa

We still have bombs in baby carriages, cars, buses and any other device that can transport a bomb. North Korea just detonated a nuclear device, much to the world's chagrin. We plan trips to Mars, watch space shuttles disintegrate before our very eyes, and are working on laser-based missile defense systems.

At the same time, we have breath-taking advances in medicine, robotics, nanotechnology and circuitry. These truly are the days of miracles and wonders.

I was painting my garage listening to that song and it just struck me. Not much has changed in 20 years. And it is still a bit scary.

Follow-up

Check out this article on Finding God's will from the most recent issue of Holiness Today, published by the Church of the Nazarene. It adds to my previous post.

Will

What is God's will for our lives? Is it something written before our birth that if we deviate from we will live a life of misery? It it set in stone, or is it a flexible, fluid concept that we strive to stay inside. I hear a lot of talk about God's will, and good Christians can even disagree about what God's will is in a particular situation. The better question is how do we go about discerning the will of God?

There are many ways to seek God's will. We could do the Elijah, and throw ourselves in the desert and beg for death. That works if you have a desert handy, and some birds, but not all of us have those readily available.

For me, the best is to search the scriptures and see if it is mentioned there. If the Bible teaches that something is permissible or forbidden, then the story ends there. If the question is not directly answered, the process becomes more problematic. Prayer is always the best option, even when searching the scriptures. Prayer allows the Holy Spirit to more easily guide our thoughts. It also opens our heart to other-centeredness, which is almost always a good thing. It quiets our soul, which allows us to hear His voice more readily. And God does speak through prayer.

The real sticking point is when scripture leaves the issue alone, and prayer doesn't produce a discernible answer. Such as in a new job offer. Assuming the job is not in an immoral business, how do we know whether to accept the new offer and leave our current job? That is an agonizingly tough call for many people. I guess this is where we look at a cost/benefit analysis of the new job, or whatever the situation is. Will the negatives outweigh the positives? What will it cost my family? Lost time with me? Additional communting costs? Stress?

Here is where good counsel from mature Christians can play a role. They can help you walk through the process without judgment and join you in prayer. If the person has your best interests and God's instruction at heart, their role can be a great asset. Just be cautious in whom you seek counsel. Job received some bad advice from good people. And that still happens today.

If you have additional thoughts on finding God's will, I'd love to hear them.

Evil

The Bible uses the word EVIL more than 400 times. But what is evil? From a narcissistic point of view it is bad things that happen to us. But that is an incomplete definition, because it excludes the thought that evil can originate in us. I prefer to think of evil as that which causes us to sin and violate God's righteousness.

This week America's thoughts have been on the horrific events of September 11, 2001. On that day, America realized that there are evil people who hate us and want to kill us. We all knew this in the back of our minds, but on that day it became a front-burner issue. And most of us viscerally felt the rage, disgust, horror, fear and helplessness of watching our fellow citizens die in an unimaginable horror.

What happened that day was evil. Al Qaeda and its associated groups launched an attack on innocent civilians to make a political point. That is the basis of terrorism. What they did was evil. More than 2800 people died that day, and thousands more in the wars that have followed as the United States and its allies pursue terror groups around the world.

I appreciate the President using the term "evil" to describe the people who did this and their actions. Moral clarity is helpful when dealing with evil. And this type of evil is pretty easy to recognize. But there are other types of evil that are less evident. But they are evil nonetheless. And allowing evil to fester in our midst is always a bad thing.

Why do we allow subcultures to abuse their members? There are immigrants to this country who work in virtual slavery to pay off the fee for their transport. Leviticus 19:34 instructs Israel to treat aliens as one of their own. Shouldn't we?

Why do we allow corporations in the U.S to sell goods made with slave labor, or near-slave labor, in Third-World countries? Better yet, why do we buy those goods?

Why do we look the other way and allow drug communities to exist in our cities as long as the violence that accompanies drug dealing stays in that neighborhood? What about the innocent people trapped by economic circumstance in those communities? Don't they deserve the same protection the suburbs receive?

Why do we allow inner-city school children to receive a sub-standard education? Many cities have made dramatic improvements, but there are still far too many children trapped in schools that cannot properly educate them. These kids will be hampered for the rest of their lives, but that doesn't bother many of us. Why is that?

Sept. 11 was a day of evil actions. But evil abounds in the world, and we can stamp out many types of evil in our local communities. We just have to see the evil around us.

This is wretched

Isaiah had it right in Chapter 5, verse 20: Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.

Read this story and just think about how wrong it is that we as a society celebrate people like this. She, and the whole Hollywood culture, are so narcissistic it makes me ill. Maybe that is why I don't watch network news shows anymore. Other than her fine acting in "The Simple Life" and a homemade porn video, why do we know who Paris Hilton is? It's not as if she is a consequential person who has done significant things. She is a party-girl heiress with a good publicist.

This is America?

Crikey

Sadly, we mark the death of one of my daughter's favorite TV personalities, Steve Irwin, aka The Crocodile Hunter. While I was not a fan of his over-the-top reptilian hunting, my kids liked the show, and he did an excellent job of explaining habitat and how many violent animal-human interactions could be prevented if we were more sensitive to the animal. Basically, don't corner them, frighten them (especially their young) and watch where you are walking.

Americans tend to have a poor attitude toward wildlife that is not convenient for their viewing pleasure. I'll confess that I have killed my share of racoons and skunks for various garbage can infractions. But Irwin did show us how to respect God's creation and demonstrate the purposes that some of the creatures have.

He will be missed. He leaves behind a wife and two small children, who need our prayers.

Contentment

Phillippians 4:11 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

This is not my favorite part of the Bible, simply because contentment is an unfinished issue in my life. By nature I am a restless spirit and I simply have to work at contentment, and accepting what the Lord has for me at any given point in time. One of the things that drives me nuts is that the Lord gave me eyes that can see the possible and a spirit that wants to get there right now. Such is my ministry preparation. I'm pushing 40, enrolled in Asbury Seminary, and have all sorts of great ideas. But, as the chorus goes, "In His Time", is not matching up with my time.

Last week we bid farewell to our closest friends, the Risters, as they packed up and moved to Colorado Springs so John can begin classes at Nazarene Bible College. John and I share many things, including a call to professional ministry. His wife and my wife are the closest of friends, and our children cannot remember life without each other. It was truly a bittersweet moment as we said our goodbyes after helping them pack their U-Haul. And I was envious.

Envious that God had opened a door for John where Ford Motor Company offered him a buyout that includes paying for his education. Envious that they get to move to one of the most beautiful places that I have ever been. And envious that their sense of direction seems stronger than mine.

But I know what God has asked me to do, and I continue to prepare for whatever he has in store for us. I rejoice in the Rister's sense of purpose. And for the way God has opened doors for them. Pray that I can be patient enough to wait on his time. I know He has doors to open for me.

A Big Day

Saturday, August 20, was a memorable one for our household. Bandit, our 7 month-old puppy, decided to make his bid for freedom around 1 p.m. He dug under the downspout extension, and crawled out a 6-inch gap and took off. Mind you, the night before he had broken the ring that held his tag and dog license. So he was completely footloose and fancy free.

My wife called me at the office to see if I had the dog and then discovered the escape. When I arrived at home my wife, daughter and daughter's friend were out riding their bikes and calling Bandit's name.

From about 2 p.m. until 7:30 we continued looking for him, broken only long enough to attend an open house for a couple that eloped in June. As the day wore on, my attitude toward this moronic mutt became progressively less charitable, especially as I tired of sitting on a bicycle seat.

Our break came around 7 when a lady said she had seen him downtown on Front Street. I rode down and went into a restaurant to see if they had seen him. It turns out that they had seen him running in and out of traffic and tried to tie him up. When that failed, they took him to a nearby park where the Monroe Fire Department was holding a children's event. A kind fireman took him to the Humane Society, where we picked him up the next day. Many thanks to Julie and her staff at the Monroe Street Grill and the Monroe Fire Department for taking care of our wayward canine.

But as my attitude darkened, the Lord reminded me of the parable of the lost sheep in Luke 15:4: "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? I have never lost a sheep, heck, I don't even like sheep. But I do know that in the bottom of my heart, I was sick with the thought that he might be hurt, dead or taken. And I'm really glad to have him back.

If I can be that happy about my wayward dog, how much more joy is there in heaven when a wayward soul returns home? And how do I put that joy in my heart for the souls that return? That is where I need God's grace to celebrate with others. I get so caught up in my own world that I don't appreciate what God is doing around me. Just what he has done for me lately.

Here we go again

What is it about blowing up airplanes that thrills Muslim terrorists so much? Five years after 9/11/2001, the shoe bomber and countless other plots, here we are again with British authorities stopping a terrorist plot to drop planes from the sky.

In my recent Christian Ethics class, we had to think through some tough just war theory applications. Terrorism is a tough one. The war is always asymmetrical, the opponents aren't easily identified, and often to remove them, you have to attack a failed state that is harboring them.

God help us as we go forward. This is going to go on for a long time.

Too much time on their hands

Isn't New Jersey the state the shut down it's government over a budget impasse? This may explain why. If the state legislature has nothing better to do than this, then it is no surprise that their state is a mess. What a waste of tax dollars.

It seems the link is password protected. Here is the article from the August 9 Wall Street Journal.

Naming a State Dirt
Just Doesn't Wash
With New Jerseyites

'Downer,' the Candidate Loam,
Can't Get Senate Notice;
Enemy of Lawn and Order

By BARRY NEWMAN
August 9, 2006; Page A1

TOMS RIVER, N.J. -- As its license plates affirm, New Jersey is the Garden State. Where does its garden grow? It grows in dirt, which is why asking the state legislature to designate an official New Jersey state dirt sounded like a nice idea to David Friedman.

"It connects plants and animals and water and everything," said Mr. Friedman, a tall 55-year-old who runs the Ocean County soil-conservation district, here on the coastal plain between New York and Atlantic City. On a hot afternoon, he was driving his Subaru toward the broad, burnt lawn of the East Dover Baptist Church.

"What's beneath our feet," Mr. Friedman continued, "is a whole other world of earth and worms and...help me out, Chris."

"And roots and organisms," said Chris Miller, a specialist with the U.S. Agriculture Department who was on an inspection tour; he was riding in the back seat.

"They all serve," Mr. Friedman said. "If we manage what's below our feet, it's going to benefit mankind."

The sentiment appealed to Douglas Fisher, chairman of the state Assembly's Agriculture Committee. Encouraged by Mr. Friedman, he co-sponsored a bill naming a sandy loam called Downer soil as New Jersey's official dirt. Also known as "sugar sand," Downer blankets Ocean County; it's the commonest dirt in the state.

By unanimous vote, the Assembly passed the bill in May, prompting local resident Jay Lomberk to write to the Asbury Park Press: "State dirt? Are you kidding?" And another local, Jackie Daly, to write: "If it weren't so pathetic, it would be funny." There were lots of editorials, too.

Mr. Fisher is sure the mockery explains why no senator followed his dirt bill with one in the state's upper chamber. Earlier this year, Mr. Fisher nominated the tomato as New Jersey's official vegetable. The tomato is a fruit, but Mr. Fisher cited a U.S. Supreme Court decision from 1893 to prove that tomatoes are vegetables in the eyes of the law.

"The tomato didn't go anywhere, either," he says. "Didn't even pass the Assembly. Legislators think these bills make them look stupid. You can reduce anything to folly if you keep working at it."

Hard at work across America, state legislatures have lately ordained official fossils, odes, dogs and doughnuts. Bob Akerle of Netstate.com, a Web site that tracks these bills, says his count of new proposals is nearing 60 for this year. Where official symbols once stopped at flags, flowers and anthems, they total in the hundreds now. A few months ago, South Carolina made boiled peanuts its official snack food. Hawaii just installed the humuhumunukunukuapua'a as its official fish.

United Square Dancers of America has lobbied Congress to make the square dance a national symbol, alongside the flag, the rose and the bald eagle. "What with the war, we were not able to pass it," says Alitia Becker, the group's Plains region vice president. But it has persuaded 31 state legislatures -- New Jersey's included -- that they need an official folk dance, and that the square dance is it.

Until July 1, only Vermont had an official pie (apple). Now Florida has passed a pie act (Key lime) and the American Pie Council has hopes for pecan (Georgia) and cherry (Michigan). "People like to invoke a feeling of America," says Linda Hoskins, the pie council's executive director. "Nothing invokes America like pie."

Sure enough, but even officialdom can get fed up. Florida's lawmakers saw no use for a state rock; Ocala limestone met defeat in April. Last month, Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco vetoed the newly written "I Love My Louisiana" as state poem, citing its lack of literary merit. In March, the Utah Legislature killed the rattlesnake's bid for state reptile.

Unlike rocks, snakes and poetry, the official-dirt movement, a loose amalgam of soil scientists, had run into little resistance up to now. Florida named a dirt (Myakka) in 1989. West Virginia did it (Monongahela) in 1997, and Illinois (Drummer) in 2001. Georgia is getting set to name red clay. All told, 21 states have honored dirt.

"There's no financial motivation, like there is with pie," Mr. Friedman was saying as he drove up to the Baptist Church and parked at the curb. He opened his trunk, got out a rubber-handled steel spike and added: "I don't think this should be a controversial issue in New Jersey."

Except for one thing: Mr. Friedman's homage to Downer soil also happens to be a philosophical challenge to what federal researchers recently identified as America's biggest crop.

The lawn.

At the East Dover Baptist Church, the lawn, initially planted in Downer, was now parched and firm. Mr. Friedman started across, paused, and jammed the spike as deep as it would go into the surface crust. It stopped at two inches.

"This is what happens in suburbia," said his colleague, Mr. Miller. Like lawns everywhere, this one had been flattened and turned during construction before it was grassed over. When dirt gets crushed, grass can't sink roots deep enough to drink up water from below; it has to be watered by hoses and sprinklers more and more. Because the dirt can't absorb it all, the water runs off into drains. In Ocean County, lawn fertilizer is then sluiced into barrier-island bays, helping breed algae that can starve fish of oxygen.

By contrast, under a pine stand in a far corner of the church lawn, a patch of Downer had survived in its spongy, primordial state. Mr. Friedman walked over and easily drove his spike up to the handle. He cleared the leaf duff with his book and scooped up two handfuls of the fragrant, sandy loam. "Plenty of pore space," he said, and Mr. Miller added: "It's best as woodland, a natural woodland soil."

Once, Ocean County was almost all woodland, and its population included 2.6 million hens. It has 500,000 people now, most in houses with lawns, plus 93 gated subdivisions for retirees and more on the way.

"Lawns," said Mr. Miller from the back seat as Mr. Friedman drove west toward Lakehurst. "Personally, I don't know what the draw is." The Subaru passed a string of "active adult communities," their new houses standing on treeless greensward. "That's how they build," Mr. Friedman said. "They clear everything."

He stopped at the edge of a future old-age compound called "River Pointe." Banners with pictures of smiling couples hung from poles. Behind them lay 165 humpy, windblown acres. Root-rakers had pulled out the scrub oak and pitch pine. Graders had sheared off the topsoil and stockpiled it. A backhoe was digging a storm drain.

Two surveyors stood at the roadside. Mr. Friedman walked over to introduce himself and offer his views on lawn abuse. "That was Downer soil," he said, looking over his shoulder. "It no longer is."

"Unfortunately, I'm responsible for clearing this," said one of the surveyors, Doug Falkinburg. "That's progress."

Mr. Friedman brought up his legislative campaign, pointing out that New Jersey has a state bird (goldfinch), a state tree (red oak) and a state dinosaur (Hadrosaurus foulkii), but no state dirt, the thing that holds it all together. "People didn't see the value," he said, mentioning that Downer, which almost covers the southern half of the state, was the candidate.

As Mr. Friedman left, the surveyor watched silently, and then he gave the dirt a kick. "Hey, I'm a South Jersey guy, too," he called out. "You got my vote!"

Write to Barry Newman at barry.newman@wsj.com¹

URL for this article: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB115508792324430654.html

Broken things

I was driving down M-50 toward church on Sunday and saw a big maple tree that had lost one of it's main branches. The site where the branch ripped out left a big ugly scar and a gaping hole in the tree, which sits in someone's front yard. My first thought was "why don't they cut that down, it looks nasty" but then the Lord began to speak to me.

I began to realize that while the tree was not what it once was, it was still extremely useful. It still provided shade, the gaping hole had birds transiting in and out of it, and probably nesting there, and all sorts of bugs and beetles are probably making that their home. Sure the tree isn't as pretty as it once was, but it still does some things very well.

People are like that too. Some are physically broken, like the tree. They have injuries or a lifetime of trauma that has left their body bent and broken. But they still have value and can add to the church and community with their contributions.

Others are emotionally or spiritually broken, and their wounds are not always obvious. But they are real. And we have to take them into account when dealing with people. I have not always been good at this, but it is an area where the Lord is working in my life right now.

By nature I am a pusher. I keep moving and prod people to keep moving. But I sometimes push too hard for where people are at that moment. The Spirit has been good to me lately in letting me know when to ease up, and I've been trying hard to listen.

Let's celebrate the broken things. Let's fix what we can, use what we can, throw away what we must and celebrate what we have. God uses broken things, and broken people. So can his church.

The Banquet

I just finished watching Antwone Fisher, a touching story of a young man trying to find his family and his place in the world. Denzel Washington gives his usual superb performance, and Joy Bryant and Derek Luke are wonderful in their biggest roles to date.

There is a scene near the end where Antwone is welcomed into a family he has never known (you have to watch the movie) and he is overwhelmed by the love shown to him. Everyone comes up to him, hugs him, claps his back and welcomes him into the family.

This reminds me of what heaven will be like. When a new person whom we never knew is welcomed into the Kingdom of God, he or she is welcomed with open arms and a great banquet is thrown. Matthew 22 talks about who will come to the banquet that the Lord has thrown. Antwone Fisher is the kind of person who will be invited - orphaned, abused, and neglected. Maybe that is why I had tears in my eyes as I watched this. God has such a tender heart for those who have been mistreated. Just read Amos.

And watch the movie. There is a lot of bad language, but that scene is priceless.

Serving

One of the best lessons in service I learned was from a foreman in a foundry I worked in for a few summers. One year I was the fill-in janitor while the regular janitor dealt with a death in the family. The lunchroom in this place was a microbiological nightmare, to put it mildly. But what made it worse was that the employees would intentionally do thinks like fold candy wrappers into small squares and wedge them into the table just for fun. After a day or two of this, I let go about how it "wasn't my job" to clean up after people who intentionally make our jobs harder and live like pigs.

It was then that the foreman made a comment to the effect that we don't get to define our job. We get to define how we handle the job. And that stung. It still does.

Reading "Practice the presence of God" by Brother Lawrence is inspiring. But I suspect the other monks didn't intentionally make his job harder. But even if they did, he was working for God, not them. And that was the lesson I learned one hot summer in 1990.

Servanthood is an issue between us and God. The people around us are players but ultimately it is a spiritual issue.

I learned a lesson from an unlikely place. And 16 years later I still remember it.