Aunt Bess

This vacation and holiday season has been so different from all the others. My bride and I have spent a lot of moments together that reflect our lifetime of "sharing" of being together. Christmas was quiet and reflective, rather than running and gunning, from one place to another, dealing with wrapping paper and bows, receipts and returns, whispered secrets. This year was just "us" in a very odd, sort of sweet way.

But this season also brought another level of sharing. My bride's aunt, Aunt Bess, has been struggling against the big C since this past summer. It was sobering to see someone who had been healthy all their life to suddenly have cancer in their liver, lungs, brain, breast, who knows where else. To watch a tall, elegant lady slowly lose a battle, even though the fight was brave and fought with integrity, it was a battle lost early this past Sunday morning. We could see her losing ground, like a courageous warrior simply outgunned and out manned, retreating, buying time, trying to find a solution, but in the end simply having to stand in the face of the enemy and allow the enemy to do its' worst.

But its worst was not good enough. The battle may have been lost, but the war was won. She died with honor, with integrity, none of her values compromised. She died as she had lived, on her terms, which mirrored the terms of her caring God.

After the funeral home had picked up the body, I drove back to our house in Dallas to get some needed resupplies for me and my bride. I left early, and when about halfway home the sun spread its first glow across the horizon. The night lights to the towns were still on, making a wondrous contrast between God's glory and man's insecurities. The only thought that came to my mind was this, " I wonder if Aunt Bess is looking at the same sunrise, but from the other side?" Is she as filled with wonder and awe as I am? I wonder. Does she now have in her possession the answers to all the big questions? I wonder. Can she now understand all the reasons for the struggle, for the heartache, for the trauma? I wonder. Or is she just resting, glad the pain is over, and reuniting with those that have gone before? I wonder.

There are no answers on this side. We can guess, we can speculate, but really all we can do is wonder.

So, Aunt Bess, here's a tip of the hat to a wonderful, articulate, quirky, and yes elegant lady.
I hope you caught the sunrise of your new beginning, it was done as only Texas can do it.

Godspeed
Don

And Then There Was Two

While Thanksgiving is, by far, my favorite holiday, Christmas undergoes the most change from decade to decade. Some of the changes are good (no more assembly required) some are just..well changes, and others are not so good.

I hardly remember my Christmases as a child. The farm was a great place to have the tree, the old farmhouse that is now well over 100 years old still is warm and safe, drafty and creaky. Dad would build a fire in the fireplace that steel workers would be proud of. Mom used to worry that presents would get tossed into the conflagration, but the real worry was the 10' flame going up the chimney would catch the side of the house on fire. Of course the heat would push us all to other end of the huge family room, sweating in our pj's and wondering who could get close enough to throw in the last of the Christmas wrap. I remember seeing the tiptop of the tree being yanked out the front door, all this before lunch on Christmas day! Dad was never one to be maudlin' over something like a Christmas tree.

Then I got married. Sharing Christmas creates a certain level of anxiety, but we all handled it pretty well. 20 or so folks in a small frame house in Ft. Worth was a cocktail sure to bring interactive excitement. Again the open flame space-heaters was anticipation enough with all the gift wrap and ribbon, plus my wife's aunt loves cats and they were always lurking around, like an open invitation to a streaking ball-o-fire. Never happened, but it sure would have been exciting. Bev's mom and aunts wore "decider" robes, in-laws were not allowed, plus most of the in-laws were guys, so it was obvious that we couldn't decide anything.

Kids came along. Those of us who are challenged by written instructions, both English and Japanese, spent our nights "assembling." Trikes, bikes, he-man fortresses, doll carriages, doll houses, remote cars, where are the batteries?!? Family gathering after the gift opening, sharing what was given to whom, by whom, who cried, who tried to put the best face on a dubious gift.

Then new adults in the equation...in-law kids. Balancing schedules, balancing traditions, realizing that some of their traditions are better than yours. New arguments, new hugs, new ...everything.

So after 50+ years of changing holiday, my bride and I experienced a new kind of Christmas. We woke up Christmas morning, just the two of us. This is our off year with kids and grandkids, plans are smaller and quieter, house was still and silent. We had received a tongue-lashing from our oldest because on Christmas eve, we went and worked out. We did fix a nice meal and opened a really surprising Pinot Noir.
I gave my bride her big present, while she was still in bed. She seemed happy about it. The entire day was sort if quiet and uneventful and really okay. I was afraid that we would be sad or contentious with each other, but it was a good day. We drove to Abilene and had lunch and dinner with my brother, saw my dad as he celebrated with his wife's family. Then drove home late, falling into bed around midnight.

It occurred to me that these seasons of our lives change and merge and move in ways we don't always anticipate or even want, but the real gifts are the ones we carry in our hearts and in our memories. All the holidays past make this one a good one. Next year we will have everyone around, but I hope to get a quiet moment with my bride, to reflect on this one, we are truly one being, our past is one shared, our future is one anticipated.

For those who had a big holiday, with lots of folks and noise and gifts, Godspeed.
For those who had a smaller holiday, with reflection and quiet moments, Godspeed.

Two Faces of ...Church

There were two things I wanted to write about, but space and attention spans prohibited me from doing them both in this blog. The one I will save for later deals with Christmas, so look for it in a day or so.
This blog was prompted by an email conversation I had with a young man that responded via email about my past "issues" with the church, and the circumstances in which they arose. I answered off-line, but wanted to share my dual attitude about the church, as she is manifested today.

Yes, I have an issue with the manifestation of the church today. I believe the structure in place is one of expedience and not one of spiritual design. I look at two evidences of this "a-scriptural" church. The lack of spiritual discernment is stunning to me. For all the decades I have been associated with this form of religion, and the emphasis we have placed on education, we are still as spiritually unformed as we were 30 years ago. Oh, I know, the worship services are more contemporary, and the process is more business-like, but the people are just as confused and self-centered as ever. I read a little book called God's Debris, that summed it up pretty well. The contention was that people didn't really believe in God, but in the benefits of being in the group.
The proof was that if people really believed they would do whatever it takes, go to the ends of the earth and beyond, to truly understand. When in reality, they won't even go to the ends of the pew to fully understand. And I would like to believe that this simply applies to the people and not the leaders, but alas, that is not the case. There are very few leaders who can articulate the major theological precepts, much less apply the precepts to church health. Consequently, we are led by amateurs in the battle, by men who concern themselves with the health of the organization rather than the organism.
Which leads to the second indication. The church is run as an organization, which is man-made. Most, if not all, of the decisions are based on making sure the organization moves forward. Leaders are the head, directing the masses below, usually through a team of hired professionals. I find nothing in scripture that promotes this structure, and I have looked. This structure is man-made, and in my opinion will ultimately fail.
This structure, this mindset does most of the damage to the church today. Ministers are hired and fired, programs are initiated and scrapped, ideas come and go, processes are implemented, then dropped because they are man inspired and fall apart.
So, yes, this structure has harmed me and the ones I love and thousands like us simply because we saw another way. This one I have issues with.

But I think the church, when viewed as a community of believers, can be one of the most powerful and most effective voice of God in the world today. When the church is lead by Jesus
Christ and Jesus Christ alone, we see the point of our existence. When the church is viewed as a family of people dedicated to caring for each other, caring for those around them, and dedicated to articulating and practicing the justice, mercy, discernment of God in the world, they are the most fulfilling endeavor we can associate with.

When this happens, leaders become spiritual formulists, helping develop those around them into the disciples they need to be. These leaders are fully immersed in the spiritual disciplines, they are men who have triumphed and failed in their spiritual journey, they have stared the evil one in the eye and grappled, hand to hand, and won. They have grey hair (or no hair) because they have "worried" the enemy to the ground, and stood humbly in the presence of God and counted their victory as his. They have edged to the side of the trail and reached a scarred hand to those who have fallen, and helped them back onto the trail, supporting them with a shoulder until the strength has returned.
Those who follow them are people who have come to understand the grandeur of following a God who has a purpose and a plan, outside the security and happiness of those following. They are a people of discernment, what one of my professors once a called a "people of informed judgement." People who are willing and able and anxious to struggle with the big ideas of God, the conflict between things on earth and things in heaven. They are a people who see world events from a different point of view, and live out that point of view, regardless of the consequences. They are willing to engage the battle of injustice, of greed, to engage the battle for those less fortunate, because their God implements his plan in those circumstances.
This is the church I love, this is the church I will go to my grave loving, this is the church that will endure. I am a member-at-large of this church. This is God's church.

So Godspeed to all you other members. Maybe we should develop a secret handshake, which would mean we need a committee....see where this starts?
Don

Cleaning Up

This is another blog of just cleaning up loose ends. Every once in a while you just have to sweep up and start over, this seemed as good a time as any.

IT'S ALIVE! Yes, my little Ford Ranger is back in action. While damaged it looked like a little old man who had lost all his teeth, and carried a perpetual frown. The grill was punched out and the bumper was curled down and back on both ends. Now it has a new grill, new bumper, and a whole new attitude. It seems to like its new dental work, and other than flinching to the middle of the road at night, there doesn't seem to be any lingering effects of the run-in with the deer Halloween weekend. Yeah!

Airline Observation: While flying back from Grand Rapids and Chicago, out of a snow storm (snow falling sideways is never a good sign) I was so relieved to going back to Texas and balmier weather. I had had enough of single digit temps and stinging cold wind. As I settled into my seat, the pilot was doing his "we are happy you chose us" speech, he mentioned that Dallas had a cloud ceiling of 400 ft., fog, and possible sleet, he said, "we will have to use an instrument landing.."
So let me get this straight, American Airlines was grounded for a week this past year for poor maintenance, we are using a procedure that is rare enough to mention to the 150 amateurs in the back, and he just slips that little piece of information in?!? What if he is the one pilot that did poorly on the instrument landing part. "Don't worry about it, how many times are you going to use the instruments anyway?" or "You'll get better when you survive one or two of these."
I've got an idea, why don't we just not mention it! We won't know and I'm here to tell you, ignorance is bliss, and a little information is angst. If you are going to announce that information, I want to see the report card on the pilot, I would prefer we not park that sucker in the mall next to the airport!

The wedding is over, the chick was thrilled and I learned something about her in-laws. Those people can DANCE! I don't mean a few of them, I mean all of them. And as the wine and beer were served they got better. Octogenarian dancers included. I'm here to tell you, my tribe would be voted off first (except my first son-in-law, apparently he has been holding out on us)
Well, here is something new to feel inferior about. Sigh.

Anyway, Godspeed to all, enjoy the holidays.
Don

Promptings

I have no idea how most of you feel about the movement of the Spirit. Perhaps you don't believe it at all, maybe you feel like it happens, but never to you. Maybe you have heard voices, or felt that the decisions were so obvious that it had to be divine direction. Maybe you just never thought about it, and are wondering about finishing this blog. Well, I can't blame you. I am all over the board on this one.

However, there is a constant in my life that I has evidenced itself at least a couple of times in my adult years.
I believe there is an active "Spirit" in the world today. I think (s)he moves in ways I don't really understand, but here is my experiential evidence.
I am a teacher by nature. I like new ideas and I like to experience those ideas in the forum of inquisitive minds and open discussion. My gift for teaching has been lying fallow for the past two years because the religious tribe I align myself with "voted me off the island" TWICE! You would think I would get the point, but here is where the Spirit thing happens.
In at least three other times in my life I have been nudged into service. My experience is that it takes time. There were no light in the sky or voices in the night or flash of insight. But, instead, it is a sort of pressure build. It becomes like a itch, dead center in my back, that I can't reach. I can shrug around, or try to reach it with a pencil or stick, but ultimately I have to find a way to really get fingernails on the spot.

Perhaps the Spirit works differently in other situations, but with me it takes time to figure out what is needed. All this to say, the itch is back. I have tried to ignore it, but I know it won't go away until I do something about it. Our dear friends showed me an appeal to "teach" a group no one particularly cares about at most churches, young, college age and a little older young adults. They have little money, they are as flighty as flock of sparrows, and they are infuriatingly inquisitive. But that last part is the part I love, that is where we sync up. New ideas and demanding questions of old ideas are what invigorate me.

So the itch is there. I may share a lot of our discussions on this blog, thus opening the discussion to a broader audience. But the old warhorse is being saddled, the battle will soon be joined, as the old bard once said, "cry havoc, and let loose the dogs of war!"
Awwww. That does feel better.
Godspeed, fellow students, the Spirit is moving.
Don

Healthy Uncertainty

While flying back from Grand Rapids via Chicago (where the high was 16 in GR with snow falling sideways, then on to balmy Chicago with a high of 9) there was a jumble of thoughts running through my head regarding our certainty, or lack there of, in the nature and mien of God. These thoughts don't usually come unbidden into my head, I had been reading Revolution of Character: Discovering Christ's Pattern for Spiritual Formation by Dallas Willard with Don Simpson, which some out there would say is my problem, choices of books. Anyway, they were making the point that everyone goes through spiritual formation of some sort. We either delve deeper or we spend our lives rejecting the premise of God's promise, either way is a development of sorts.
But the real quest, is the acquisition of wisdom, or understanding. Ancient scripture tells us that "fear" is the beginning of wisdom. Fear of God and what he is capable of, what lengths he has shown he will go to accomplish his mission.
The tribe with which I am most familiar has been focused for decades on knowledge. The gathering of details, of properly applied doctrine, of carefully choosing who we will or won't associate. But we seem to have missed the real point...understanding.
Does it strike you as odd that we seem as clueless as everyone else in the face of today's challenges? Does it seem odd that we fret and moan as loudly as the "gentiles" about our money, our country, our "rights"? Shouldn't we (after all these decades of knowledge gathering/cataloging/parsing) be able to shed some light on how this will all work out?
Yet, we seem to be falling into the same mindset as our unwashed neighbors. We worry just as loudly, and can't seem to come to a point of being able to say to those around us, " don't worry, we know what God is up to." Hmmm. but do we really? Where is our knowledge now? Where is the worth in our doctrinal distinctives? All those poor, hapless souls we have crucified on the altar of theological correctness, perhaps were crucified to assuage our uncertainty.
Uncertainty creates fear, and fear creates anger, and anger creates destruction.
Maybe we need a healthy dose of spiritual uncertainty. We know we can't navigate on our own, maybe we just need to learn to listen, to others, to our uncertainess, to God.
Or maybe I need to get some other books.
Godspeed, its okay to be uncertain, its not okay to bludgeon others for their uncertainess.
Don

The Knot is Tied...and Loosed

The last official wedding launch at our house is concluded. There is still clutter all around, decorations scattered all over north Texas, which will have to gathered, and of course the re cleaning of the house. I made the tactical mistake of planning my next business trip on Monday following the wedding, so we won't get to the cleanup for another couple of days.

If I say so myself, the wedding ceremony went really well. There were some fun moments, some contemplative moments, some serious moments, which all led to a simple, sweet event that my daughter seemed happy with, and that was my intent. Of course all of this was made possible by my wife's six month, intense wedding gathering, my wife's cousin's coordination skills (she missed her only son's high school playoff game to coordinate my daughter's wedding, I can't tell you how humbling it is to have someone love us that much and that graciously. There was not a single negative word or look or moment because she was missing a huge moment in her life. Wow.) And my daughter bet me I would lose it in the ceremony. I did not lose it at the ceremony, and fortunately the bet did not carry over to the reception.

At the reception, they announced the bride and groom as they came in, thunderous applause, and they went straight to the dance floor for their "first dance." There is no recollection of what the song was, I remember it being sweet and nice. But what I really remember is the face of my youngest. As she danced with her new husband there was such a display of emotion. Her face was simply radiant with her love, the only other time I remember the intensity of that emotion was watching my wife hold each of our grandbabies for the first time, cooing with love as she drank in the enormity of this new life. My youngest was crying, then smiling, then laughing, then staring at the man she had just married, almost like she couldn't believe the gift of love handed to her. It was as if this moment had been preserved from the begining of time for them, and them alone.

As they danced, the thought that came to my mind was that this job, this creation and nurturing of a life entrusted to me and my bride was a job truly done well. Like coming to the end of long and challenging journey, it was nice to see that the result was far better than we had hoped or even imagined. And so, yes, it choked up this old daddy's heart. I had fastened that knot as securely as I could, not with the words in the ceremony, but with the partnership with my bride, with the example of living through tough times, of loving each other when one or both of us was unlovable, of showing the best side we could of commitment in the face of adversity. In dancing a "first dance" that will never end.

If the bet included the reception, I lost miserably, and I lost gladly. There is nothing wrong with letting the heart flow, it is God's gift to us.

Godspeed, my littlest chick, may the dance never end.
Don

Final Countdown

We are T-5 days to wedding. Almost everything is done, flowers arranged, cake bought, dress fitted (Carrie's, not mine) tuxes rented, reception planned (not yet paid for), everything from bow-ties for the little ring-bearers to arrangements for all the families.
All done but one small thing....decide what to say in the ceremony. You see, I'm officiating at the wedding (my youngest tells me we are saving money by not having to pay a real preacher.)
Here's the thing. My bride and I have spent the last 24 years filling this girl's head with all the advice, warnings, tidbits, scripture, prayers that we could think of. What is left to say?
I think the last, best thing to say to her and our future son-in-law is that we love them, we are terribly proud of them, will help in any way we can, but the road from here on out is theirs to travel. There will be times when we all travel along as a group, but there will be times when the road is theirs alone, to navigate as they see fit.
The problem is that I am still a daddy. How do you turn loose, even when the young man is incredible in so many ways. How do you let your pack slide to the ground, help adjust hers, then watch her round the bend, on her own. She will have the brave, confident stride that her two older siblings had, she will handle the challenges with strength and courage and integrity, just like her sister and brother have done. But it is still a struggle to watch and realize that this part of my life is, in many ways, over and the perils are real.
But, I pick up my pack, because my journey is not yet over. There are still miles to go, steps to take. I know that because of the choices each of my kids have made in selecting a spouse my journey is richer, the joy is increasing.
And besides, now I have some grandaddying to do. A slightly different road, a little more gently rolling than the daddying trail, but filled with the same expectation.
So it is Godspeed to all you daddys out there, finding the same bend in the road.
Don

Home for the Holidays

Last night I flew in from Kansas City on a completely full Southwest flight. As soon as the wheels touched down I felt a huge weight lift. This has been a tough year, with turmoil at work, travel made difficult, events and coming events on the calendar. So when the bump and the screech of the wheels sounded, I prayed a little prayer of thanksgiving, to finally be home for the holidays.

Thanksgiving is, by far, my favorite holiday. So I decided to simply list reasons it felt so good to walk through the door at home, have my bride give me a huge hug and kiss, and put my travel packs down for a couple of weeks.

1. Breakfasts, I love good unhealthy breakfasts. Bev's homemade biscuits (my grandfather would call them "scratch" biscuits) with homemade gravy, ice-cold orange juice, and coffee. Bacon cooked until it is crumbly, and good preserves.
2. Sleeping in. Covers pulled up, able to sleep until the internal clock goes off, not the annoying thing I listen to the rest of the year. Especially good if my bride is still in bed because it helps me remember good times and anticipate good times to come.
3. Eli (5)and Phoebe (2) jumping into bed with us. The 3 minutes of snuggle before you have to start dodging flying knees and elbows.
4. Having one of my grown daughters still feel comfortable with snuggling in an over sized chair with me and sharing the warmth. I guess daddy's never tire of this.
5. Watching the hurricane of activity in the kitchen Thanksgiving morning. I just wash dishes, trying to keep up, but the flour in the air, the arm-wrestling over utensils and pans, the banter ( our daughter-in law refers to it as "competitive visiting") and the laughter, it is amazing to behold.
6. Catching the Cowboys on TV with my son-in-law and son (future son-in-law is a Colts fan, oh well)
7. The vain attempt to mitigate the calories by taking a walk with all the clan. No way a waddle around the block is even going to dent that caloric intake, but the thought is there.
8. Finally burrowing in at the end of the day with my bride and laughing softly into the night about all the funny things said and done.

Man, it is good to be home.
Godspeed. Happy Thanksgiving.
Don

Random Musings

This is a time of year that lends itself to reflection. But for me, this is a time of year when I am worn out from work and travel. On top of this we are in full wedding plan mode, December 6 is W-day for my youngest. I love her to death, and will do anything for her, and she has gone out of her way to make this simple and easy and inexpensive ( as these things go) but I am ready for the day. I can't wait to see friends and family we don't often see, I am ready to see my little girl have her wish come true, I'm ready to reclaim my house and my wife back to some level of normalcy. Weddings are fun, but man are they something else to plan and execute.

Have you ever listened to the warnings of the drugs they promote on TV? I have been battling some form of chest cold/bronchitis/plague, whatever for a month now, and have only begun to listen to the warnings on TV. They always say it fast, lower tone, right at the end where, if you are not listening, you will surely miss it. If any of these symptoms persist, can't hear, can't see, lower back ache, diarrhea, numbness, chest pains, joint pain, loose teeth, bleeding ears, can't urinate, can't STOP urinating, knees lock up....what was I taking this for?!? Whatever the original condition was, it can't be as bad as this. I don't take prescription drugs anyway, no high blood pressure, no cholesterol, no ED medicine. So anything I take has triple power, I'm afraid to take anything now that I've listened to the warnings. I think I will just clear away the chest clutter in the morning and not deal with all the side affects.

Okay, great story. A dear friend of mine just got his Doctorate in Ministry (D-Min for those who care) he is preacher at one of the few stable large churches, and is really one of the fine ones. He overheard his 10 year old son tell a friend at church, "Yeah, my dad's a doctor, but not the kind that helps anybody." Ouch! I'm still laughing. Fortunately, my friend is the kind who can laugh about it as well.

And finally, I am leaving this next Saturday to go and reclaim the remains of my truck, still in Throckmorton. I'm bringing it home to see if it can make a miraculous recovery or donate it's parts to auto-science. It is what the old Ranger would have wanted. Oh well.

Anyway, Godspeed. Stay away from those drugs, they will kill 'ya.
Don

A Different View

Here I sit in Panera Bread with my bagel and coffee, in Los Angeles, trying to develop into words the thought on this journey. My bride tells me I am unnecessarily morbid sometimes, but events and ideas surface that should make us stop and ponder the bigger questions. Life swirls on around us, but that does not mean we should ignore the deeper issues of life. Also, my age and inclination are bent towards these questions, so here goes.

This past Sunday there was a guest speaker at the church where we have camped for the time being. The paid guy had an "issue" with a heart condition and had to have a stint put in (a physical issue, not a religious issue.) The speaker presented his ideas and thoughts in a calm, deliberate manner and, to my delight, did not use a single powerpoint slide or picture. He shared in the heart condition the paid guy did, and with Tim Russert, who recently died tragically and suddenly from this particular asymptomatic disease. A minor point to the sermon was that prayer pulled he and the paid guy through, nothing said about Tim Russert, which made me wonder if the implication was that A. Tim was unfaithful (I don't know) or B. his family didn't pray hard enough, or long enough (also unknown.) C. God was through with Tim Russert (unknown) Dangerous assumptions theologically, but more on that later.

The major point of the sermon was that God spared the speaker and the paid guy because they had a "purpose" specific to them. The following conclusion was that no matter where you are now (spiritually, emotionally, physically) God has a plan for you. Hmmm.
At best this is the sharing of the story with God, at worst it is claiming that the story is about us with God in a supporting role. This mindset is insidious and pervasive. It is, in my opinion, the very reason that American churches are as ineffective as they are. Satan found out long ago that it was better to give God's followers money and entitlement over hardship and persecution.
God has a larger than life and time plan. We are chartered with the task of finding our place in that plan. Guess what? World events will take all of us out of the game at some point. Heart attacks happen, car crashes (yes, even with wildlife) happen, cancer happens, foolish mistakes happen, airplanes fall from the sky...God's plan moves on. We pray to find our part in the story, and it will always be a minor role. We are part of the chorus, not the lead. You see, because of our money and our sense of entitlement we believe the story to be about us, it is God's testament to Don, or whomever. I think God is saddened by our take on his story. He makes it clear through the story of the Messiah that it is about the "plan" and not about us.

So while I appreciate the intent of the message, that God loves me enough to have a plan for me, it occurs to me that I should have enough love for God that I will look for ways to implement his plan in my life, however long or short that might be. This body of mine will weaken and die, as will all those around me that I love. Furthermore, the memory of me will fade over time, like an old photograph poorly saved. But my part in the plan of God will be noted, and the plan will triumph, and in this manner will I gain immortality.

This perspective changes the way I pray, the way I treat people, the way I view my own mortality and the mortality of those I love. It makes me less susceptible to disappointment when things don't go according to my plan, when the journey is too hard to continue. It puts me in my place and God in his.

Anyway, Godspeed until later.
Don

Oh, Canadaaa

We had an election on Tuesday in the USA, so I left early Wednesday morning for Canada, eh?. I had hoped to run into some of my buddies from the early 70's, eh?, who did the same, but for different reasons, eh?. Didn't see a single one, though, eh?.
Two things struck me about BC (that British Columbia for you lower 48ers, eh?)
1. The mountains are stunning, eh? We slogged through snow, fog, sheer drop-offs, all in a little Toyota Yaris (Japan's final revenge, eh?) I tried to take pictures, but they just turned out grey, fog and all, eh?
2. Canadians could care less who we elected, eh?. In fact, other than hockey, I couldn't figure out what they are passionate about, eh?. These are really laid-back folks, eh? I come across as a type A, but you have to slowww downnn, eh?

Oh, and they talk funny, eh?

Godspeed, although the word speed is little used up here, don't you know (oh, wait, that's Minnesota, eh?)
Don

If Wishes Were Horses...

Last night I flew home from a quick trip to St. Louis, and am leaving this morning for Vancouver. In the midst of all this, apparently we changed presidents. I think that is fine, W has looked for the last several months that he just wants out. The peace and quiet of west Texas probably sounds pretty good to him right now.

For those of you that feel that the world has come to an end with the influx of Dem pres, senate, and house, well it ain't all that bad. And for those who are on top of the world because now, by gum, we can change the world! Just tap the brakes a little bit. America has this wonderful system where we get to play a mulligan every 4 or 8 years, kick the old guys out and start new.
Guess what? We still have to get up in the morning and go to work, deal with the ornery people we had to deal with on Monday, taxes (perhaps more) will be due April 15, the yard will still have to be mowed, prayers are still needed, God is in heaven, life goes on.

Only about half of us got our wish.
My wife says, "if wishes were horses, even beggars would ride."

You know what I wish?

I wish the billion or so that was spent on the campaign by and for rich folks had been doled out to those who most need it, and will be least affected by this election.
I wish believers got as fired up about God's mission as they do political parties platforms.
I wish we had a viable, thoughtful third party.
I wish I could get into the electoral college, then major in theology.
I wish the pundits were wrong enough that we could stop calling them pundits.
I wish I was taller, or thinner, or a combination.
I wish I was smarter (math would be nice so I could win an argument with my D-in-law, or politics/history to win one with my s-in-law)
I wish I could go back and fix some of my worst decisions.
I wish they hadn't "fixed" Excell 4 or 5 years ago.
I wish, I wish, I wish....sigh.

But hey, we got change.
Godspeed to us, one and all.
Don

The Deer Slayer

I have not been deer hunting in several years. My formative years were spent outdoors, on the farm, all over the countryside around Abilene, in later years on deer leases with my good friend John. He still hunts, but over the years it has been become too much of a hassle to drive to west Texas and shoot some unsuspecting deer. I tell people that when you shoot deer you've ruined your entire day, having to field-dress it, haul to a processor, pay the fee, clean up, and on and on. My observation is that it is not a great day for the deer either. So in the intervening years I have tried to shoot birdies with my golf clubs and leave the big game hunting to those who have the time and money and inclination.
However, every year I buy a hunting license, and like an old bird dog, sniff the breeze as the wind turns chilly and the leaves begins to fall. There is still something there that I love, and it brings back only good memories. Time spent with my friends, time spent with my son, time spent in the natural beauty created by a supernatural God.
This past weekend our daughter and her husband were moving into their new house, so we set aside a peaceful weekend from wedding planning for our other daughter, loaded up a couple of pieces of furniture in my old Ford Ranger and headed for Amarillo. The Texas Motor Speedway was having one of their big events and we learned several years ago to avoid that area north of Ft. Worth and drive around it. A person can spend a large portion of that Friday night trying to wade through a sea of NASCAR fans and their RVs just trying to get to Decatur, we decided to go around.
So we struck out west through Weatherford, then to Mineral Wells, Bev was navigator, I was in the pilot seat. We talked for a while, through each town, commenting on events from the past, just visiting, and missing our turnoff to head north instead of west. Fortunately there are several ways to get where we are going, so we went on into Brechenridge, where we decided to grab a quick bite at Sonic and keep moving. By the way, I'm guessing the big new event in these towns is a "fall" carnival, with blow up slides, bounce houses, "trunk or treat" anyway, they all had them.
It got dark on us as we drove toward Throckmorton and we talked about a news article that had been mentioned in the paper about how many people were killed each year by hitting wildlife on the highway. I have always driven looking for deer and turkey and wild pigs, it still excites me to see them. I have no desire to shoot them, but it keeps the senses sharp and is simply a trait I picked up years ago. We drove through Throckmorton (which, by the way, is where Bob Lilly of the Dallas Cowboys grew up) and decided to fill up with gas and stretch our legs in Seymore, only 30 miles up the road. 3.2 miles north of Throckmorton we climbed a small hill, just getting back up to 65 mph, topped the hill with a slight bend to the right (golfers would call it a fade, not a slice) when sprinting left to right was a young 4-point deer.
I have no idea how many feet per second one is traveling at 65 mph (my Daughter-in-law I'm sure will let me know) but the reaction time is down to milli-seconds. My reflexes while driving have always been pretty good, but in this case the options were not how to avoid, but how to minimize what is about to happen. I "saw" all this in the moment before impact. To turn to the left would send me into the other lane of this little country road, to twist sharply right would roll the truck. So the deer impacted, dead solid center in the middle of my grill, crouched or running full speed, which lowers the body mass. WHAM! Keep the tires straight, edge to the right, quick glance towards Bev to make sure she was okay; followed by the question as soon as the truck slowed. She was fine, I was fine, the deer had rolled under the truck and I was pretty sure was not fine.
After wrestling the truck to the grass on the side, got out to inspect the damage. Lot's of leaking, hissing, metal ticking, burning smell. My little truck, the one who had served us so well, had survived my youngest daughter's college years with dependable service, was not fine at all. My Ranger had made the ultimate sacrifice and protected me and the one I love. It had done its best and that was good enough.
80 yards back up the road I found parts of my truck on the shoulder and after a lot of looking found the deer, I left it, it was probably dead before it came to rest in the ditch. I gathered the scattered pieces of the truck, threw them in the back of the truck as I walked back and Bev and I started to plan a new approach. My brother, David ended up letting us borrow his Excursion for the rest of the trip. Everything worked out okay, we got to Amarillo around 2:30AM. We were rousted by our 5 year old grandson at 6:30AM for the move. The rest is just moving stories.
But here is at least one good thing that came out of this. Bev and I got to spend 3 hours or so sitting in the cool West Texas night, talking or sitting in silence and listening to the coyotes singing to each other. Hearing the rustling across the road, eating Kettle corn that Bev had brought, and I guess being thankful that we were both unharmed, able to get help via cell phone, able to enjoy another remarkable experience that 30+ years of living and loving together brings us.
Anyway, this deer hunt will turn out to be a lot more expensive than the ones in the past, but at least the deer have a chance with this method to exact a little damage of their own.
For all you who went this past weekend to shoot deer and didn't get one, there is one in the ditch 3.2 miles north of Throckmorton on Hwy 283, right hand side, already tenderized.
Godspeed to all Orion's children.
Don

Time Well Spent

This past weekend was one of those rare weekends where I was able to spend time with some of my favorite people. But it was also one of those weekends where I realize that there may not be too many more like it. It was college homecoming, which I do not get very excited about, old school acquaintances getting together and lying about how great their kids, jobs, spouses (although, there are a few that apparently took a mulligan on the first attempt in the spouse area)
What I found was a weekend where I could spend time with my dad, my son, and my grandson.

Dad and I ran errands. This is what he loves to do. He cannot sit still. He volunteers for "Meals on Wheels" because it is essentially running errands. He goes from one place to another dropping off meals to those who can't get out. He especially loves the dialysis center because he can drop off several at once. He also volunteers at the local pantry, he loves going to Kiwanis, you get the drift. So I ride along. We visit about old friends (some I can remember, others I'm not sure I've ever met) weather, what wildlife has wandered up to the house (he still owns about 12 acres of the farm and still lives there) just stuff. At 86 he is still active and fun and I enjoy being with him. He teaches me more about living life forward than anyone I know.

My son is a slightly different story. He is vested full bore in his career, his lovely wife, and their shared lives. So our opportunity to see each other is limited. There are two things that always impress me: 1. that he can and will spend time, with unending patience, with any generation. He can visit with my dad and my grandson with equal ease. One minute he is helping dad put up chairs and tables, the next he is playing baseball (or a version of it) with my grandson (his nephew). I have never been able to handle all that very gracefully. And 2. He is a man without guile. He simply cannot lie. We discovered this when he was little, he discovered it as well, so he simply does not respond if he feels uncomfortable with it. Do you know how rare this is? I live and work in a world of shifting truth, people trying to take advantage. But my son is a welcome and, I have to admit, a bit of a respite from my world. So we talk of his work, his struggles with being a man of integrity in a world of compromised morals. I am proud of his willingness to set and keep standards. It simply is who he is.

And there is the golden afternoon with my grandson down on the creek. Where do we lose the awe in seeing things new? We shot the BB gun at cactus, cans, leaves in the water, sticks, trees, nothing was safe (except me, I kept one hand on the gun and stood safely to one side) Then we ran out of BB's. So we rigged up a fishing pole, but could find no bait. Apparently my hyper-active dad had roto-tilled all the worms out of the garden. So I sent Eli to the house to get a couple of slices of bread, which we would ball up into small portions of bait. I carried the pole, Eli the bread. Big mistake. When we got back to the creek, he had eaten most of the bread because "his teeth needed it" How can you argue with a dental emergency? So one bite from a fish and all our bait was gone. So we went back to the house to get more"bait." Eli gave me careful instructions which hand should carry the "bait" and which should carry snack. I think I got it right. We caught a poor hapless catfish, took pictures, then Eli threw him back in grow a little.

Four generations. One weekend. Time well spent. My dad won't be here always, my son will only have more demands as kids and life come along and my advice will become less relevant, my grandson will hit an age where being with Grandaddy will be a drag.
So I stored this one away. Perhaps another "bend in the road" is not too distant, but for now, these generations are well placed, and well enjoyed. This is one that did not get away.
Godspeed.
Don

As a follow up to my last blog, let me just say, there are a lot of you out there with tremendous faith and courageous stories. Thanks for responding and giving me a glimpse of what is right and good about traveling the journey of faith.
Secondly, let me say that if anyone tries to tell you exactly who and what God is, is trying to fool you, take advantage, or is deeply misguided. This, by the way, includes me. Over the years I have come to view scripture as the equivalent of asking a 5 year-old to define true love. They simply don't have the vocabulary, experience, or mental capacity to do so. Scripture (even though we believed to be inspired) is man's attempt to convey the nature of God, and it is simply inadequate to do so.
On the same note, any theory we have about the nature of God is our feeble attempts to articulate what we feel and believe, but is completely inadequate to encompass the entire nature of God. Any theology is problematic because it is our attempt to describe God, and will always fall short.
With all that said, let me give you my current take on the nature of God and my continuing quest to understand the nuances of prayer.
It seems to me that the God we follow is a God of integrity. You might say, well, DUH! But let me explain. I think God put in place certain universal laws that are inviolate. As a tip of the hat to my daughter-in-law, mathematical laws were constructed by God and developed by man. Consequently if God is a God of integrity, 2 + 2 = 4, both in our world and in His. Because he is a God of integrity, he lives by these laws just as we do. This lies in conflict with oft-repeated claim that God can do all things. Well, yes and no. He cannot do the things that are strictly against his nature (sin, deceit, etc.) He developed the natural laws and we live by them, as he does. He allows the world to spin in an orderly fashion, the seasons come and go, we age, life is on a time-line, short for some and long for others, but these are natural laws that God allows to play out.
Now scripture does tell us that God occasionally steps in and changes the course of history by making exceptions to the laws for a brief moment in time. We refer to these as miracles. Do they still happen? I don't know, it is not my place to determine what God can and cannot do. But it seems to me that every time these "exceptions" were made, it was to further his plan of reconciliation with his creation.
It is also helpful for me to remember that scripture deals with a minuscule number of events in the scope of human existence. Millions of people lived and died, in pain, in suffering, praying and wondering and they were never mentioned in scripture. Were there more occurrences of God's intercession than was written? I would guess probably.
I am not a pure "deist" (God set the world to spinning and stepped back to see how it plays out) I'm not a "determinist" (God set all events in place before time began)
I'm not an "openness" (God can only know what can be known, in other words he can't see the future either)
And so and so on.
So I pray everyday, hoping that my words will be heard. Living with the suspicion that God will make the best decision based on his overall plan. He loves me like no other, but not to the exclusion of what he trying to accomplish. I live with the hope that he cares enough to weep with me when crushed by pain or death or suffering when he finds it impossible to answer my prayer the way I hoped.
One final thought. Our development of our personal theology is, in fact, a journey. We continue to develop, grow, gain insight, understand that our theology changes with the application ( I understand my being ill, which is fine, I don't understand my children's suffering. Consequently, my theology looks different with alternate applications) But we need to wrestle with these concepts, because in the struggle, I think we see a little of the nature of God that syncs up with ours. You see I think he struggles dealing with us, just as we do with him.
Anyway, Godspeed.
Don

Prayer or Probability?

The journey this week has taken me to Phoenix and now to Portland (I seem to be stuck in cities of "p") The last leg of my trip was from Phoenix to Portland, and was well into the late evening. Since I had a window seat, with no one beside me, I was able to look out at the darkness and watch the town lights slide by below. It is moment of reflection for me, dark inside the plane, no one talking, solitude at 30,000 ft.
And as I sat and pondered various thoughts and ideas, my mind came to rest on the concept, the idea of spiritual prayer. We rarely question the need, the existence of the need for prayer. But I was really reviewing the consequences of my prayer life. Seemingly clear positive answers at times, unsettling negative answers, stunning and overwhelming silence for the rest of the time.
I reflected on the time in my life when my mother became ill with cancer and ultimately died in May 1982 of this detestable disease. My prayers were answered negatively, she was only 3 years older than I am now. The prayers over my kids, all who have grown into mature, believing adults, who are active in their faith, who are good people and married to good people. Positive answers to deep and fretful prayers. The recent re occurrence of my oldest daughter's cancer, the sobbing prayers late at night, not yet answered. Prayers offered for big concerns, and to my embarrassment, prayers offered for trivia.
For seven or eight years now, disciplined time in prayer, focused meditation around the prayer, study that enlightens the prayer, silence in the hope that prayer will investigate me, rather than my investigating it.
But at some point, the mind asks for alternatives. Are we simply living out the sheer possibility of probability. My mother died even though I and others prayed as deeply and selflessly as we could. Were the odds just simply against her? Are we simply in the fortunate few who have had good kids, who make good choices, who find good mates? Where one or two or all three simply "lucked out"? Is there some other poor family out there who ended up with a child that simply makes all the bad decisions and the odds caught up with them? Is my oldest daughter simply living out the odds?
Can we bear to consider this? Would a penny flipped a certain number of times come to expect that if it landed heads up that it was divine intervention? but that if it landed heads down it told itself that the divine answer was "no"? When in reality every time the penny is flipped it has a 50/50 chance of landing either way? I will tell you that if you want to really get some honest speculation, talk to someone who has lost someone so dear, that years later they still tear up trying to explain their loss; talk to a minster that has lost his vocation and ministry because he/she did what they thought was best and ended up crosswise with a less invested leadership group; talk to someone who has wandered into the wilderness of addiction or abuse or heartache, and see what their perspective is on the subject of prayer.
In my next post I will tell you what I think, but I would love to hear from you, either by opinion or story.
Maybe next time I'll just ask for an aisle seat.
Let me know.

Godspeed.
Don

Travelers of a different Sort

I travel a lot. This is not a confession, simply a fact. 100+ segments a year is a lot even by airline standards. Consequently I get to see a lot of airline etiquette being implemented and abused.
Last night flying home it became obvious that the flight was completely full. First class checked in full (bouncing all of us who were looking for an upgrade) The standby list was 26 names when I arrived at the gate, which meant if they were going to accommodate them all, it was going to take every seat. This creates a certain tension because now you are wondering what poor slub is slotted to sit next to you in the middle seat (I try to book early and always get a window or aisle)
Of course not as much tension as the poor guy who is actually in the middle with no room for arms or feet or carry-on.
So now the airlines charge the occasional passenger (not the frequent passengers, we get a pass on the baggage check fee) to check their luggage. So what do the passengers do? You guessed it, EVERYONE brings their suitcases on the plane! Besides slowing the boarding process to a crawl, it now takes an engineer to figure out how to get the maximum amount of bags in a very small space.
Here's the dilemma. I carry a very large rolling briefcase. It is my office, with laptop, monthly reports, electronics, and of course snacks. If I could figure out how to install a small fridge I'd be great on these trips. All this to say the case is a little too big to go under the seat and looks a little small to go in the overhead.
Last night as the plane filled up, it was apparent that not all the bags were going into the overhead. I don't mean a few weren't going to fit, there was going to be 20 bags or so that were going to have to be gate-checked. A young 20-something lady stopped beside my aisle and began to make assessments about the overheads, including the one my briefcase was in. Now she was carrying a large rollerbag, a goodsize briefcase, and a purse (she shouldn't have been able to get on with all three, but that is another blog) but she felt that all her stuff should fit in the overheads at the expense of everyone else's stuff. So with great authority she began demanding whose bag was this and whose bag was that and tyring to rearrange the overhead to accomodate her carryons.
Those who know me, know that I am pretty much a live and let live kind of guy. I don't lose my cool very often, and usually get a little enjoyment out of every situation. I have the gift of finding the humor in it all. But my humor quotient was tapped out, tough week, long day, and I was ready to go home. So when she indicated my bag in the overhead and asked in a loud, obnoxious shrill, "whose bag is this?" I sat for a moment and pondered my reponse. The annoyance was starting a small pressure in my chest, but was sure to bloom into full fledged anger if she continued to be rude. Do I meekly get up and try to find other space for my bag? All the spaces were full, her's wouldn't fit in the space anyway. Do I avoid the confrontation and keep my mouth shut (see, I do consider it, while not often practicing it)?
I am a teacher by gift and by inclination, so I decided to try and help the young lady with a life lesson.
Very quietly I said, "It's mine"
"Well, you need to move it, so others can get their bags in the overhead!"
"No"
I have never seen a two letter word evoke such an emotional response. She was livid.
Now we have the flight attendents trying to get everyone to sit down, so they can take off, but this lady was holding up the entire process due to her poor planning.
I never moved, in confrontations of any sort, the high ground is preferred, but I conceded the high ground (her standing, me sitting) to make a point. We stared at each other for a moment, then I said, "would you like me to pay your baggage fee? since that was what should have been done in the first place?"
I have raised two daughters through the teen wars, into early adult life. I am impervious to the huff and puff and the eyeroll of young ladies. But I will say that she was pretty good at it, not as good as my girls, but pretty good. She started to stomp on down the aisle, but I got up and said, "let me help you get situated, find your seat and I will take this to the front for a gate check, they will give it to you on the jet bridge in Dallas."
At this point the flight attendant stepped in and began inform everyone left standing to take their bags to the front of the plane. They handled it.
What should I have done? I mused on that for the entire flight. To simply move the bag was the simplest, but was it the best? I was not going to get into a screaming match, I've lost too many of those. Did she learn that buisness travel takes planning and timing? Did she learn that the world is not there to accomodate her?
I don't know. Those of us who see the journey in a different light need to be more proactive about helping others understand their role. I wish the young lady and I had been seated next to each other so I could explain my response. We need people of discernment, people who won't budge when a life's lesson is in the making. People who will illuminate a better way, a way of discipline, a way of compassion which calls upon people to grow.
Next time I will try to find out where she sits and see if the person next to her will trade with me. That alone will teach to her to plan ahead.
Anyway, Godspeed to all you who are traveling along.
Don

Stuck in the Middle

While traveling this week to the city of Angels, there has been a recurring thought and observation. Our society tells us that if we act a certain way, respond a certain way, just have the right attitude that ultimately this will become the truth.
I've decided that perhaps the opposite is probably the truth. We live our theology. Dallas Willard says, "if we don't live it, we don't believe it."
So how does this play out? I have occasion to visit with people who are remarkably younger than I am. There is a great deal that I like about these younger generations, but there is at least one thing that makes me scratch my head.
For instance, in conversation with a young lady this past week she referenced her live-in boyfriend and her "born again" status in Christianity. So I gently encouraged her to tell me how she reconciles these two constructs in her life. It was very easy, she saw no connection. My generation would call this sloppy theology, but I had to rein in my indignation and judgement when it occurred to me that she probably learned this from my generation. I'm at the end of a generation that pioneered the sexual revolution. The pill removed the greatest taboo (at that time) of an unwanted pregnancy and the condemnation that accompanied it. Our theme song was Love the One You're With. We invented the "consumer" society. The only difference was that we bent theology to our desires, this younger generation just doesn't let the two conflicting ideas talk to each other.
Somewhere along the line we live out what we believe. We can't simply move along the buffet line of life and theology, picking out what we want and ignoring the rest. My life has to reflect my theology, which it probably does. So what does our life activities say about our theology? Well, as long as God doesn't try to control my schedule or my checkbook, then I'm for him. As long as I can treat people the way I choose to, instead as he instructed, then we are good. As long as I get to have my stuff, do the things I enjoy, judge who I choose, etc. then God gets my vote.
Self-revelation is tough. It is much easier to just poke holes in others theology than to examine my take on it and the application of it.
Whew, I think that's enough for today.
Godspeed, my friends.
Don

Another Thought

$700 Billion, with a "b." Stunning in its size, truly incomprehensible for most of us regular folks who really can't grasp the magnitude of a million with a "m." Our society has grown used to the "m" crowd, actors, athletes, tele-evangelists, dot-com entrepreneurs, and others, people who are annually awarded lottery winner status.
But lets look at this from a different perspective.
200 million workers in America, give or take. Now lets divide the $700 Billion by 200 million, does that really compute to $3,500,000 per wage earner? or is it $35,000,000 per wage earner? My little calculator doesn't have enough zeros. I've got an idea, why don't they just give me my share and see how well I reinvest it in the economy. I'll even pay taxes on the thing which will refund the government for operating expenses. We will dramatically lower the debt load on the average American worker, most of us will reinvest in the economy (I'll replace my 10 year old, 200,000 mile truck) and think of the boost for the non-profits.
Here is what I suspect, though. The money ain't there. This is all smoke and mirrors, which when investigated will be so much Washington yapping, that really just puts a little more money in their pockets and gives them the chance to have a little more say in our lives.
The nomad rabbi from Nazareth was right, the root of all evil is the love of money, or at least the love of possible money.
We are going to let the nincompoops who got us into this devise the plan to get us out? Good luck. This is certainly an interesting part of the journey.
Godspeed.
Don

This is HARD!

Several years ago I became intrigued with the spiritual disciplines. Silence, solitude, prayer, study, meditation, service, simplicity, sacrifice, celebration, worship, tithing, confession, journaling, all held a fascination for me. I read (and re-read) Foster's Celebration of Discipline, Dallas Willard, Nouwen, and others. In fact, sometimes it is easier to READ about the disciplines than it is to actually practice them.
So it still disconcerts me to realize that there are periods in my life when the disciplines are hard, unrewarding, and very difficult to maintain. American Christians, including me, struggle with the notion that sometimes we have to persevere in an effort whether we see results or not. This is counter to what our culture tells us. We are told that we can have it all, we have rights, we are the chosen. In reality we are the ones who will not only stand in judgment for our lavish indulgence, but for our lack of discipline as well. We are at the core of us, self-centered.
So what is the problem?
I believe it is two-fold.
1. We don't truly believe the promises of God. We love the benefits of being called believers, but we don't deeply, honestly believe. Scripture tells several stories of what the kingdom is like.
Imagine that our spouse comes home and proudly announces, " pack your clothes, leave everything else. I sold it all to buy a field that I know has a pearl worth more than we can dream of or imagine!"
I want to see this pearl, I want it appraised, furthermore, I want a buyer lined up before we put all our stuff up for sale. How much more? I can imagine a lot. What do we do until all these transactions take place. Never mind, I like my house and clothes and stuff, this pearl idea is just a scam.
Which leads to number 2. What could God possibly offer me that I don't already have. We have a beautiful home, good kids, a decent job, a lovely wife. We eat well and whenever we want. We can buy most of the things we want. Show me this kingdom., and then I will decide.
But here's the catch. Somewhere underneath all this affluence is the creepy little feeling that we are, indeed, missing something, something important. We realize that just a few short months after they plant us in the ground they will be saying, "do you remember the guy that wrote those blogs? what was his name?"
Our significance is bound up in the glory of the kingdom. We exercise the disciplines because those are the habits of kingdom residents. It is not always easy, in fact it is usually difficult, but it is necessary.
Godspeed, my friends. Stay on the path, it will lead us home.
Don

Tipping Point

Here I sit at Starbucks with my Pike's Place and my danish, 7AM, trying to solve one of the great mysteries of life. I am out and about early because the lady who comes to help clean the house arrived at 6:45, and it makes me highly uncomfortable to be there when she cleans.
Here is the mystery. I spent a portion of last night and this morning straightening up for the cleaning lady. Let that sink in for a moment. Her job is to clean, but I can't stand having her show up to a cluttered house. Am I that poorly wrapped? My self-esteem is so low I can't bear to have someone I hardly know make judgments about me and how I live. So I grabbed my briefcase, some reading material, a quick kiss from my bride and scurried out. Avoidance is a wonderful thing.
But my despair over my inability to handle this revelation only got worse as I began to realize that this aspect of my nature reaches deeply into everything I do.

Church: we go to the effort of getting nicely dressed, argue and snip at our family on the way to church, then with a broad smile and warm handshake we greet our friends and glibly assure everyone that life is indeed grand in every way. The kids are the best (although a little shell shocked from being verbally roughed up in the car.) The marriage is still full of romance (although the last 2 miles were traveled in stony silence.) Career is in full swing (although the meeting on Monday creates night sweats and a very heavy feeling in the chest.) Other than that, though, the greetings at church are genuine.

Work: senior management has taken years to get to, and all I can think of is a way to get a day off. We act confident, but dread the constant conflict. Everyone else seems to have it together, and half the time I can't find my stuff. I worry over events I can't control, and stress over the people who make my life miserable. But all this is hid behind a very good act. Confidence, ability, strength, visionary, are all words we like to assign, but in reality fear, uncertainty, stress and mild annoyance at nearly everyone permeates this dual life.

You see where all this is going.
I like old people. They have reached the age where they can simply live life honestly. My observation is that half of the old folks I know are genuinely fun and you simply can't ruffle them. They approach everyone with a spirit and humility (about others and themselves) that is just fun to be around. The other half are grumpy, cranky, and outspoken. They tell it like it is, whether you want to hear it or not.

I'm at the tipping point. It can still go either way. Part of the time I really enjoy interacting with folks regardless of their station in life (although I do prefer blue collar over white collar, they are a little more honest about life.) The other half of my life these are the thoughts that run through my mind:
"Pull your pants up, you look like a punk!"
"Turn that crap down!"
"The speed limit is not a suggestion! Slow down before you kill somebody!"
"Leave me alone, I have the turn indicator on because I will turn left eventually!"

To sum it all up, my bride of 33 years keeps asking me this question: "How old ARE you?"
Well, I'm old enough to make the lady cleaning the house do ALL the work, next week, maybe.

I liked last years model of me better.
Godspeed my friends, and lets be honest out there.
Don

Cultural Discernment

Last week was a tough week in my travels. L.A. on Monday early, then on to Reno for a trade show, and home late Saturday night. Sometimes I feel that the body can be shuttled from one place to the next at supersonic speeds, but the spirit travels by ground, taking time to catch up.
There is a surreal aspect of traveling as well, in that the news of the world is caught in bits and pieces and the full story not really understood until the traveler has a chance to get home, see what is happening and has time to reflect on the events shaping our world.

With all that said, I was not able to hear the full story on the financial crisis in our world until yesterday, and contemplate what it all means.
And as I contemplated the reverberations of this event, it occurred to me that the moral fiber that America has always been so proud of will be sorely tested in this event. How will we respond? Accusations are flying, finger-pointing by political candidates is in every sound bite, pundits are telling us that we will lose it all; our savings, our investments, our security, our homes, even our babies will be born naked. The sky is indeed falling.
So how do we handle this? We worship at the golden altar of security only to find that the altar is not golden at all, but a shiny, poorly crafted, card table, with wobbly legs and not enough chairs. Now what?
Well, we need to look again at the real problem. We have lost our way morally. This is not a conversation to point our fingers at others who are different, or assign the current hardship to God's revenge. When I say morally, I'm talking about the fact that our entire significance is based on the all-important "me." We are involved in a system that habitually abuses people who are not very fortunate to begin with. While our single-minded pursuit of security may not be the cause of their hardship, it is a part of the system that utilizes this misfortune.
This time will, indeed, test us. Are we willing to live lives that help others? even when we are suffering? Are we willing to cash in our chips in the blame game and use our resources for others? Can we return again to the deep and important meanings of words like honor, integrity, compassion when it seems certain that we will be destroyed financially. You see, morality is simply doing the right thing at the risk of losing everything.
My brother compiled a book called Do Not Be Afraid, which is a collection of stories about people staring into the dark unknown, but called to do the right thing. These are stories of tragedy and doubt, but also of courage and moral firmness. We live in frightening times, but these are also times of incredible moral opportunities. We need to be a voice of hope and discernment about what is really at play.
Godspeed, my friends.
Don

Marriage is what brings us together, today.

When we arrived at the church we are currently using as our base camp, we discovered that they had dedicated the entire day (and following week) to enriching, enhancing marriages. As I looked over the 10 sessions and the worship assemblies, and the combined classes, it seemed a little overwhelming, and made me glad I was traveling all week. That is a lot of information for someone to take in, much less put into use on a regular basis. I could look at the guys and see their eyes glazing over as they read the topics, Parenting 101, Ideal Marriage, How to Affair-proof your marriage, on and on and on. I guarantee you guys have a pretty simple approach to this topic. 1. how do I handle the terror-inducing comment, "we need to talk" Yikes! what I have done now? This brings on instant mental inventory, what could it be? was it something today? did I forget an important day? did I lose a kid? nope they are all accounted for....
And 2. How is this going to result in more "action"?
Ladies, I'm sorry, we are pretty simple creatures, all the theory in the world isn't going to help if we don't get a few solid tips on how to handle the above two concerns.

Okay, here are my tips for making a marriage last:
1. It is the guy's fault...we need to change. pray the man's prayer:
Lord, I will change, if I have to, I guess. Amen.
2. Take over doing the laundry. Wait, hear me out, there are benefits.
First a little primer on doing laundry.
A. There are two color categories; white and others. Separate them into two piles, wash them separately, they will not stay separate in the washer...I know, I've tried.
B. There is a little tag in women's clothes, on shirts it is in the side seam (the line running from the arm pit to the bottom of the shirt) in little tiny letters it will tell you how to wash and dry the garment. Most will say, wash in warm or cold water, hint: wash everything on cold. Now, you have to set the water temp with all those crazy little dials on the machine, set everything the same (cold). To dry, good luck, you're going to take some criticism because women don't follow the instructions either. Line dry all jeans, your wife can explain it.
C. Wash and dry on Saturday, it is not a constant job, just check on it every hour or so and keep the groups going. Why Saturday? Because....
D. Fold on Sunday while watching the game. Brilliance! You are not a couch potato, ignoring the family, you are "folding clothes!" At half-time, take them to each person's room (folded) and set them in front of their dressers, now you are teaching them responsibility. How cool is this plan.
One more benefit/insight if you have preteen or teenage daughters. You won't be able to tell their underwear from your wife's (or if you can, don't admit it) I mixed them up intentionally, you are covertly complimenting your wife, and you are mortifying your daughters. I call that a win-win.
Don't worry about boy's underwear, there is usually only one pair for the week.
3. Date your wife (another blog) but a friend of mine used to say that on their anniversary he would "treat her like a girlfriend, instead of a wife." Hmmm, I'm not sure what he meant, but I hope he meant treat her with romance and consideration, but again another blog.

These hints should cut down on the terrifying question (not completely, because let's face it, we usually have something that needs to be discussed) For some reason, when guys help with the laundry and dishes and kids, the wives seem to have more energy and interest for the really fun stuff.
So, when you finish filing all those handouts from the seminar, make sure you have plenty of clothes soap, and the schedule for Sunday's game.
Godspeed, guys.
Don

Thundering Silence

I read the following quote the other day and since it resonated so deeply with me, I thought I would share it with you.

"Jesus has a very special love for you, but as for me, the silence and emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see, -listen and do not hear- the tongue moves {in prayer} but does not speak.."

Several years ago I developed a fascination for, what Dallas Willard calls, "spiritual habits." Prayer being the foundation of these habits. I read Foster's book Celebration of Discipline every three years, one chapter a week for reflection and recommitment to the habits of a spiritual life. My journal (started in 2002) is filled with prayers I have written, psalms that are lifted to God, honest struggles about my shortcomings, questions to God and about God. I am fully vested in the spiritual journey. So when I read the quote above, it made sense to me because, you see, all I hear is a thunderous silence.
There has been ample opportunity for me to spend large chunks of time in prayer, the darkness of having a daughter who is in her third battle with cancer, losing my mom when she was only 57, losing my ministry after gambling our future and my marriage, having those who should have been caring for me and about me wounding me the deepest, these are the very circumstances of deep and meaningful prayer. To be curled up on the floor, legs drawn to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees and your forehead squeezed as closely as possible to the tops of your knees, rocking back and forth imploring God to please end the pain, then you understand the depths that the human soul can plummet. To implore God for release from the darkness of the trauma and to hear......nothing. The silence roaring in your ears and in your heart, to reach the point where you wonder if you are, after all is said and done, alone.

Yes, I "get" the quote above. But I also read of my savior on a cross, crying out, "why have you forsaken me?" or in my head, "Where are you now, when I need you the most?" You see he stood on the threshold of darkness and prayed and heard....nothing. He had to approach the threshold of darkness just like us, on faith.
Prayer is the articulation of faith, it is not the measure of faith. So we keep on doing what we should do, helping those less fortunate, carrying their backpacks if need be, resting when we have to. We need to be honest enough, though, to make sure that when others ask us about our journey that we can say, "I don't know all the answers, I just do the next right thing." and we have faith that this integrity of spirit will be rewarded.
By the way, the quote was from a letter written by Mother Theresa to her postulator, her spiritual guide.
Godspeed my friends.
Don

Disorganized Religion

This blog is being posted after I have taken the mandatory 24 hours to cool down about the events I'm going to comment on. A very dear and competent friend of mine was fired from his ministry position due to it not being a "good fit." The church was one of those multi-site, techno-churches that is supposed to have its act together, with one of the favorite pulpit guys in the tribe. My friend is one of the most inventive, gifted, dedicated young men I have ever met. He is enthusiastic, hard working, focused, and Spirit driven in the best sense of the word. So what happened? Who knows? I'm betting he can't give you a clear description. So here are some of my observations about church "management"
1. Any organization that leaves the final decision-making to a group of untrained amateurs is bound to fail. Individually, these guys can be the nicest guys in the world, and usually competent decision-makers. Put them in a room together, and you end up with some of the most knuckle-headed decisions, that individually they would never condone or enact.
2. In the rare cases where the protocol of the church is left to ministers, they rarely have management skills, and pile on conflict-avoiders and people pleasers, it becomes easier to fire an associate than to tell a member (or group of members) to grow up.
3. The preservation of the organization is more important than the individuals involved. Have you ever seen a situation where the leadership group took the bold stand of saying, "these are our guys, we are staying with them." By the way, have you ever noticed that when a minister is hired it is Spirit-led, but there is no Spirit when the firing takes place? I wonder where all that goes, was he brought in by the Spirit? if so, what right do elders/senior ministers/deacons have to fire him? Look it up, there is no mention in scripture for that kind of authority, none. But even if you do fire him, if the concern is spread equally between members and ministers (particularly the one fired) have you ever heard of the management group staying in contact with the fired minister to make sure he is okay? Too bad that the concept of "shepherding" gets tossed, this is when it is needed the most. Beverly and I have gone two years since we were bounced out of ministry and not one elder from that group has called to say, "you guys okay? found a church home? Can we help?" We've heard from members, a lot of them, no one from the leadership.
The ministry casualty rate in churches today would make a battle-hardened platoon squeamish. you ever wonder why it takes so long to fill a ministry position? Because there are fewer and fewer ministry candidates that are still naive enough to stick their heads in that crocodile's mouth. How sad, how epically sad for the kingdom.
anyway, for all you guys/gals still in that world, Godspeed. You are going to need it.
Don

Something Good

The past several years have been trying times for Beverly and I and the entire church scene. We (and more specifically me) have been rejected at two churches. One because I wanted to go into full time ministry, the other because I wanted to stay in full time ministry, but because my perception of church leadership differs drastically from the conventional view of church leadership, these events have caused us to currently view ourselves as "members at large."
But yesterday was a good day. I got all misty about two young people who wanted to be baptized, and they were kids I didn't even know.
A little back story. Seven years ago or so I made the acquaintance at a men's group gathering at our local church. I was serving as an elder at the time and I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with the guys who were 15 years younger. We had a lively Wednesday night class, good retreats, honest discussions.
One night a guy showed up who was all muscles and testoterone. Brash and outspoken, he intrigued me, because he made no bones about the fact that he felt a lot of this "church" stuff was nonsense. He bragged that, as far as he knew, he had never prayed, and frankly, didn't see the point now. Never challenge a salesman. At the time there was a few of us meeting for breakfast at Cracker Barrel and praying with each other. This guy shows up and at least changed the vocabulary of our little group.
Over time it became obvious that he was well versed in substance abuse, the tax man was after him, and his wife was ready to jettison the whole deal. We developed an honest conversation about the real truths of life. When he asked me questions about something I couldn't answer I told him so, but over time and a lot of talk, he came to an understanding of God's will.
There are a lot of turns and twists, failures and triumphs, moments of joy and moments of heartache, and yes moments of frustration, this story was one where I learned that long term disciple making takes a multi-year commitment from the discipler. We spoke almost everyday, but the short story is that he is now a growing believer, with his family intact, running his career with integrity, and is quickly approaching his 10 year pin. I am still amazed that he has made it this far.
So how does this tie into the kids mentioned above? The kids are his niece and nephew, from his brother who was further from the Lord than my friend. His mother attends, he has developed an entire group of people who just a few short years ago were the major causes of his downfall.
Yesterday God allowed me to once again enjoy the harvest of ministry. I was convinced that the exhilaration of teaching and mentoring were gone, but God allowed at least one more moment for me to see the outflowing of his Glory through my life into the lives of others.
As my kids will tell you, it doesn't take much to get me teary eyed, but this time it was right, it was good, and because we share the harvest I was connected to the moment. You just never know where this stuff will end up.
To my friend and to those kids, Godspeed.
Don

Significance examined

This past week I took my bi-weekly trip to Los Angeles. While passing through first class I recognized Henry Winkler aka The Fonz sitting in first class. While the years have certainly put some lines on my face and changed the color of my hair, it can't be as dramatic for me as it has been for him. Instead of the leather jacket and jeans, the fonz now looks like a slightly rumpled, graying version of an English professor at some mid-western college. Time and space and gravity seems to catch up with all of us, but for those who have lived a rather public life while rather young, the change seems more dramatic. But at least he was sitting in first class, while I was making my way to my seat...28F, last row, window.
After I settled in I watched the folks make their way down the isle, novices looking for their row, veterans stowing their luggage, and trying to be stoic about who would end up in the seat next to them (all flights are completely full now, thanks oil companies for fuel increases)
Of course everyone is a nervous flier, it is a myth that veterans don't feel squeamish about strapping into a metal cylinder, which will be hurtling along at 450 mph, 6 miles above the earth in a jet that will exhibit the same glide path as dropping your car keys, should something go wrong. So we inwardly jump every time there is a bump or a wobble, but we keep our eyes on our computer, or paper, or book, and silently pray that the under-inspected contraption will go up at the right time and down at the right time.
But this experience is great for reflection. So my mind drifted to Henry and the comparison of my perception of his lot in life and mine. Significance is a sliding scale. But as I sat there, wedged between a lady from somewhere in the far east, and the thin metal of the fuselage, it occurred to me that my take on the significance of my life would have to be measured by others who had known me. In that sense, me and the Fonz shared a destiny. We would be evaluated by the friends we helped, the families we raised, the worthwhile accomplishments that contributed to the greater good, rather than the glorified, all-important "me."
It is a paradox that everything we do is motivated by significance, but the value of the significance is measured outside ourselves, by those who knew us.
Henry Winkler was long gone by the time I deplaned at LAX. I wish him and the other 150 strangers the best. We shared a common experience, that could have been tragically extraordinary. But the time of reflection was good, we don't do enough of it. Instead we careen through life, running from one spot to anther, dragging our stuff along, and hoping we don't miss the next flight. Then we look around, much too late, and wonder why the significance of our life has slipped away.
I think next time I will try to get an upgrade. In the meantime, good luck, Fonzi, Godspeed.
Don

Starting over

My wife and kids keep telling me I need to write a blog. Apparently they are tired of hearing my views and opinions on the state of affairs in our world. What I would like to do is make observations about the events around us; examine the beliefs that we hold to, but rarely question; share the struggle of being a man who holds words like honor, integrity, honesty, faithfulness, perseverance, and other words that our society doesn't seem to value any longer.
My approach will be from a perspective of one that has a deep love for things spiritual, but has been deeply wounded by things religious.
Just a moment about me and where the title of this blog site comes from.
I am in senior management of mid-sized apparel company. I travel a great deal and consequently get to observe and interact with people under stress; travel stress, job stress, emotional stress, spiritual stress. As I move along in this life, it occurs to me that we all travel the same journey, with the same destination, but each travel a slightly different path. My pack will have a little more dust on it than some of you, it will have a little less than others, but we can fall in step with each other for a few strides, or a few miles, or perhaps for the rest of the journey. This blog will just be the conversation that accompanies all memorable journeys.
There has been enormous loss in my life, of loved ones, of innocence in the face of illness of those who are very dear to me. There have been dark days of fear and loneliness, and bright days of joy and blessings, sometimes not separated by more than a night's sleep. There has been disappointment, discouragement, disillusionment from those who supposed to be my advocates. But no more than you, in this sense we share the journey.
So in the days to come, I hope you find solace, humor, kinship, enlightenment, but most of all I hope you find the journey worthwhile.
In the words from another age, then, Godspeed.
Don