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Today I left the beautiful Autumn woods of Michigan and entered into the concrete forests of San Francisco. My vistas were replaced over a five hour flight from the stunning colors of spectacularly painted woods into the hustle and bustle of a worldclass city. My serenity was now put on hold and the excitement of a city that has by-in-large escaped the economic collapse of many other American cities would arrest my attention for five days.
Airports help to ease the shock of that contrast. These mega-gathering places of people all seem the same. At least the similarities of Detroit International Airport and the San Francisco International Airport have many striking similarities.
Concrete is part of the generous motif of both facilities. It’s difficult to make that construction stuff ever seem warm and inviting. The character of grey mud now hardened and molded just communicates a utilitarian cold environment.
My temporary digs has me perched up on the 9th floor. The window overlooks a forest of steel buildings, massive high rises, and a plethora of other buildings crowded in between those gigantic structures, filling up every nook and cranny for human use. Green is not a common color out there in this city landscape.
Is there an upside to this concrete jungle? Yes, of course! It’s the people. I love people.
No, I’m not a big party guy but engaging people in deep conversation is my energizer. Walking through life and cheering others on in that journey is what turns my crank. Observing others pick up the mantle and serve other people as they have been blessed is what inspires me.
But, just like what man makes out of concrete and steel can be ugly, people can get very ugly too. Those who are righteous in their own eyes cause pain in te lives of other people. Too many times they think only of themselves at the expense of others.
Helping the healing process and correcting errors is a part of being involved with people. Giving others hope when there is so much hurt is a flag that I love to champion. Applying a salve on wounds is a gentle task waiting for anyone who will truly care.
Yes, I will be enjoying the amazing FOOD of the Bay Area. No doubt I will see more great sites. I plan to embrace the mild weather. But, mostly I have come to serve the people in the name above all names.
photo credit: Google image
My family’s favorite Oregon memories were our treks to the Pacific Coast. The Northwest beaches are family friendly. There are only people scattered about every half mile or so.
The shores of these oceans are constantly cold. You need a jacket and hat to be comfortable. But, with the sparse crowds it is easy to keep track of the kids.
My wife and I would settle into sand chairs, read or converse. Occasionally, I would sit up and count our three frolicking children. All were account for so I would settle back into my reading.
One time however, I looked up and something strange caught my attention. There were three children. But, while two were running around one was standing perfectly still.
I got up and trotted down to the water’s edge to see what oddity had occurred. As I got closer, it was easy to assess the situation. I started to fight the emerging smile.
On the Oregon coast there is a lot of sand, sea water and seagulls. One of those seagulls took off for its morning flight. But, it had to lose a lot of ballast.
It released its load in mid-flight. The trajectory resulted in a bull’s-eye right on the side of my son’s head. It was dripping down over his ear, on to his shoulder and dripping off of his arm.
He stood there completely frozen. All he could say was, “Dad, get it off, get it off!” I tried very hard not to laugh.
I suggested that we make our way back to our camp site and wash off at the water faucet. He did not hesitate. His legs ran as fast as they could.
Naturally, I followed him. While his legs were churning like a propeller on a 300 HP Mercury outboard, everything from his waist up was still locked in the frozen state. Back at the camp all he could do was to wash until he was free of that filth.
This is the picture in my mind when Peter tells us to rid ourselves of all malice,deceit, hypocrisy, envy and slander. The language of this lesson is precise. The meaning of the phrase “ride yourselves” means to wash off filth.
My son wanted nothing to do with that bird bomb. He knew what it was and wanted only to be separated from it. This is one of those good dirty lessons about life.
photo credit: Bruce Fong Photography
The song “Cats in the Cradle” profoundly moved me before I ever had children. It became one of those moments in life when I made a deep commitment as a future father. I wanted to make sure that I would be a Promise-keeper to my children. Here are those words.
A child arrived just the other day,
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away.
And he was talking ‘fore I knew it, and as he grew,
He’d say, “I’m gonna be like you, dad.
You know I’m gonna be like you.”
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
“When you coming home, dad?” “I don’t know when,
But we’ll get together then.
You know we’ll have a good time then.”
My son turned ten just the other day.
He said, “Thanks for the ball, dad, come on let’s play.
Can you teach me to throw?” I said, “Not today,
I got a lot to do.” He said, “That’s ok.”
And he walked away, but his smile never dimmed,
Said, “I’m gonna be like him, yeah.
You know I’m gonna be like him.”
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
“When you coming home, dad?” “I don’t know when,
But we’ll get together then.
You know we’ll have a good time then.”
Well, he came from college just the other day,
So much like a man I just had to say,
“Son, I’m proud of you. Can you sit for a while?”
He shook his head, and he said with a smile,
“What I’d really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys.
See you later. Can I have them please?”
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
“When you coming home, son?” “I don’t know when,
But we’ll get together then, dad.
You know we’ll have a good time then.”
I’ve long since retired and my son’s moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
I said, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind.”
He said, “I’d love to, dad, if I could find the time.
You see, my new job’s a hassle, and the kid’s got the flu,
But it’s sure nice talking to you, dad.
It’s been sure nice talking to you.”
And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me,
He’d grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
“When you coming home, son?” “I don’t know when,
But we’ll get together then, dad.
You know we’ll have a good time then.”
More than elaborate assurances, I determined to be a man of my word. It is too easy to make good excuses or at least excuses that sound good. James said it well. Just let your Yes be Yes and your No be No.
Fancy promises sound more like a salesman trying to make a quick sale. When we make promises, keep it simple. Our word is sufficient.
Over time our consistency of character will validate what others are willing to trust. When we deliver what we say we will, then it is adequate to give others confidence. What we do with our word of promise will be a legacy that will follow us throughout our lives with the people who we love the most.
James 5.12
My wife and I are complementary partners in parenting our children. We each add a component to the other’s strength in parenting our offspring. It has been fun reminiscing over high points of our legacy investment.
When the children were babies and toddlers, Yvonne was the primary influence in their lives. She was great at the cooing and pampering. But, when they turned into teenagers there was a chemistry that called for a different interaction. I loved the conversation with our growing children.
They all had questions about life, people and faith. None of those explorations ever threatened me or worried me. They are part of the growing process. I relished every conversation that we had.
When our oldest son was in High School he was feeling his emergence into intellectual prowess. He graduated from the largest high school in the state and had the highest SAT scores in his graduating class. Debate was a favorite pastime for him. Of course he tried to pour those new skills into our family discussions.
But, age and treachery has an advantage over youth and inexperience. One evening he was trying his best to dominate the conversation. But, his facts were not holding up nor was his logical argument standing up to objective challenge.
He could feel that his position was eroding. His sister and brother were beginning to snicker, which didn’t help his position. Finally, he burst out, “It’s no fun arguing with you and mom because you two always win.”
To which I replied, “It’s no problem for your Mom and me. We debate you with half of our brains tied behind our backs just to make it fair.”
That’s when the snickers of his sister and brother broke out from supressed chuckling to boisterous laughter. Caught up in the moment and trying valiantly to stem the tide he had a good thought but didn’t quite wordsmith his response, “That’s nothing, I don’t even use my brain!”
Our whole family erupted into one of those explosions of laughter that shook the roof. Sure, he tried to say that was not exactly what he meant to say, but he was laughing too hard to make much of a case for his faux pas.
Laughter and memories are some of life’s greatest treasures that we share with our children. It makes being a Dad one of life’s greatest divine blessings.
photo credit: Bruce Fong Photography
My wife and I were expecting our first-born. It’s one of those amazing never-to-be-forgotten experiences that alters life. I was going to be a “Dad.”
Of course we read everything that we could put our hands on. Every feasible preparation was on our to-do list. Whether it was medical, transportation or nursery care we had it on our list.
One of the lessons that I learned was that Lemaze training was useless. We fathers don’t do much of anything significant during the birthing process. Our greatest contribution according to this method is to teach my wife how to breath in a stressful situation and to feed her ice chips.
When our friends came over for dinner, my wife told me it was time. That’s when I assured her that I knew that our friends were scheduled to arrive soon. In fact they had just pulled up in their car.
That’s when a repeated statement by my wife sent me into a tizzy. She told me that it was time, time for the baby to come. Her water had broken.
Panic never gives us a warning. I raced out of the house, told my guests to make themselves at home and I backed the car out of the garage. My friends laughed, “Don’t forget Yvonne!”
Up in the labor room, Yvonne was hooked up to monitors. The doctors and nurses told me that we had plenty of time. So, I settled in to watch a Bruce Lee Kung Fu film.
When it was time we went into the delivery room together. Our daughter was born. The nurse gathered up that new life. She congratulated me and exclaimed, “Isn’t she beautiful!”
Well, no, she looked slimy and purple. On top of that she looked really angry. The nurse took away my baby, cleaned her up and brought her back to Yvonne.
Our daughter began to nurse. That was the only thing on her mind. She never stopped to ask for $20. Nor did she ask to borrow the car on her first night out.
A newborn baby has on one thing on their mind: food and plenty of it. No wonder the Apostle Peter chose this metaphor to describe how to hunger for God’s Word. As a newborn baby craves milk, we are to crave the Word of God. That day I became a “Dad” and have never forgotten the picture of how to crave what is good.
photo credit: Bruce Fong Photography
My office is in suburban Ann Arbor. We are surrounded by all of the trappings of a typical American neighborhood. Interspersed around our building are apartments, single family homes, and athletic fields.
Of course there is a crisscrossing of streets, freeways and gravel roads. Telephone wires follow the streets. There are utility stations, billboards, and street lights. But, these are all normal parts of our scenery.
Maybe that’s why the three us stopped in the middle of our meeting. What was happening outside of my office spun us into disbelief. Initially, there were all of the stages of personal trauma.
There was the first reaction of total shock. Then, that was replaced by denial. Who could believe what we were seeing? Then, came the emotional reaction not of anger but laughter. The final stage was aquiescence, accepting what we saw as fact.
Runnning past my office window was a sheep. Yes, a baa-baa-kind of sheep. It was a ewe that was running at about 80% speed. She rounded the corner of the building as the three of us agreed at what we were seeing.
The laughter rose to a new level when the next scene unfolded in front of us. A local police car drove over the curb and was in hot pursuit of the woolly escapee. Who knows what was happening?
Thinking that our laughter could not contain any more enthusiasm we were speechless with the next layer of the chase. A police officer on foot was trotting after the ewe. In his hand was a taser. It was obvious what was in his mind.
Our Ann Arbor’s finest was not going to let this wayward farm animal wander in the neighborhood. Who knows what kind of dangers our residents would have to face? Our pets might be in jeapardy. Or maybe our children might have fun patting the thick bouncy wool.
All questions were just about answered when the final participant in the afternoon caper passed by my window. She must have been the owner. She was breathing heavily. The police car was running powerfullly, the officer on foot was chuckling to himself while jogging with ease. but she was in need of an oxygen tank.
I suppose that I should have run outside with my fellow pastors to help in the round-up. Afterall, you do know the meaning of pastor, right? We are trained to round up sheep.
photo credit: Google image
In the mornings I miss the sunrise now that it appears earlier than my commute time to work. But, it slowly catches up as the miles roll on by. It gradually uncovers the blaze of Autumn glory, a favorite Michigan time of year.
Yes, the commute is long. Even the traffic jams are annoying. But, there is a special pleasure in the show that progressively decorates my way.
Trees that once shared the color of green are now breaking out into varying shades at the other end of the color spectrum. Yellow, red and orange are the colors of the season. The brilliance is a wonder.
Racing by the colors is such a shame. Instead, I want to stop and take it all in. At the very least I slow down a little and absorb the wonder that surrounds us.
My own admiration for God’s palate of divine painting took over. I pulled over, out of the flow of traffic. I shut down my engine, stepped out of my truck and walked up to the changing trees.
A slight breeze made the rustle of the leaves shutter in the morning light. Clouds pulled back and let the sun pour its new light and drench the shades of red, orange and yellow. It was as if each of the trees were plugged into an electrical outlet, the brightness setting turned on high and someone flipped on the switch.
Evergreen trees provided the contrast. They almost seemed resigned to their mundane sameness while the deciduous trees took center stage. Yet, life prepared to weather a winter and other life heading into hibernation makes for a season of change.
Would the days ahead be filled with frigid cold temperatures, mounds of snow and bitterly cold winds? Perhaps the lives of animals would end in tragedy or lives of heroic humans would rescue many. Then, during the intervals in between cataclysmic events there would be time to enjoy a winter wonderland, hot cocoa and laughter around a warm fireplace.
Naked trees would send their shadows along the barren landscape until Spring arrives. These sentries fill the woods and remind us of a show that they gave in splendid fashion. The Autumn applause of what has been, what will be and most importantly what is now is an invitation to enjoy today, the present as a special gift from our Creator.
photo credit: Bruce Fong Photography
Job is famous for his plight of suffering. He is the case study for human tragedy. The adage, “the suffering of Job” rings in the minds of both Bible scholars and those who never even opened a Bible.
The ancient text tells us that Job was a successful and wealthy man. In a matter of minutes, he lost all of his wealth to bandits and natural disasters. In addition to these calamities all of his children died in a freak storm. The building that they were in for a celebration collapsed on top of them.
Anguish was Job’s reaction. He mourned for the loss of his family. The evaporation of his wealth served as an exclamation point of his plight.
What was unusual about Job was that he did not sin by blaming God. That common response by most of us was foreign to Job. He did not direct his anger toward God. The faith of this man was astounding.
Suffering is defined by Job’s experience. His pain doesn’t climax with these losses. There is more.
His body is broke out with open sores. They plagued him from head to foot. Agony was nearly at its height.
In addition to his personal losses of cataclysmic proportions, Job’s wife failed to support him. She exasperated his anguish with a nagging critical spirit. Losing her comfort and personal support must have been discouraging for Job. She urged him to curse God and die. Job would have nothing to do with that option.
Ultimately, Job’s suffering did come to an end. God also blessed him with twice what he had before the trials rained on his life. He lived long and had a full life.
James uses the example of Job to instruct all believers who are in pursuit of righteousness. The one word that describes Job’s reaction to life’s trials is perseverance. It is that phenomenal example that James describes as our pattern for staying the course, never giving up, and keeping faithful in our trust of God.
When we lose everything, those we trust turn against us, and our health fails us there is still reason not to sin in what we say. Careless words reveal a heart that has given up. It accomplishes nothing that is righteous. If you are having a tough time, remember the example of Job and persevere in your faith in God.
James 5.10-11
photo credit: Google image
This morning I was up early. I was impatient for the day to start. So, I shut off my alarm off before it had a chance to broadcast its annoying buzz.
Maybe I was just too eager to start my day. This would be the first time in a long time that I would walk the woods. My life has been too busy and my priorities have eliminated so many of these opportunities.
I packed up my gear, enjoyed a delicious breakfast and made my way to my destination. Bubba waited until the gate to the two-track into the woods was opened. Then, with the all-wheel drive option I rolled into the open field where asphalt, man-made street signs and highway speeds were left far behind.
My eyes chose solid ground. I dodged fallen trees, logs across the little-used route, and straddled gullies. Tall grass passed beneath my chassis.
Then, the world of wildlife unfolded. A flock of Sandhill Cranes stood stately in the grass field. They sounded out a warning with their distinctive calling.
Bubba rolled along without flinching at the Sandhill complaints. They in turn moved away, then rose into the air with their powerful wing beats, still fussing about our threat to their personal space. They are huge birds with remarkable coloring on their heads.
I parked Bubba at the end of the road. When I stepped out of my pickup cab, I paused to get a sense of the weather. That’s when I made my final choices for my woodland clothes.
It was time to smile when a large flock of over fifty Canadian geese flew overhead in a fluid V formation. Their honking was familiar. Each of the birds were handsome with their white eye patch over both sides of their face.
I stepped certainly down the trail. As usual I pause often to look and listen. A sound and movement down at my feet captured my attention. A garter snake was slithering through the carpet of leaves under my feet.
There was a place between the woods and the open field planted with hundreds of acres of soybeans. The sun would set soon for the day. After a few minutes, I gazed on the wonder of the woods.
Deer began to appear out of the woods. It was almost magical. God’s wonder of creation is a stunning sight to absorb. These graceful creatures were a fitting climax to a day in the woods.
photo credit: Google image
Cindy came to Ann Arbor a few weeks ago. It was not a surprise visit. We had been planning on her arrival for years.
Tracey told me about the visitations some time ago. I only heard a few general items of the story back then. There were no faces or names that I remembered from my initial introduction.
This time I would be much more involved. It is a special effort called Children’s Heart Project. Children in some of our poorer economies of the world have a need for heart surgery. Their families neither have the resources nor do their countries have the capacity to help these very young lives.
There are wonderful medical personnel at a local hospital who annually bless one very special child. They are screened very carefully, and then nominated for the necessary surgery. Everything is donated.
Our church family provides the hospitality. Hosts line up to share in the care of these precious lives. Gifts, clothing, housing, transportation and entertainment are all given in bountiful portions.
This year, Cindy came. She and her mother were cared for from the moment that they landed at our airport. We prayed and the doctors practiced their medicine.
Cindy came to our special children’s program this past Friday night. It was a fun night for all of our kids. Over 300 guests jammed into our church building to sang, eat, run, and laugh.
The game that I was overseeing was great. It was bean bag toss through openings in a huge jack-o-lantern face. I gave out prizes for anyone who gave it a try.
Cindy came. She tried. Her aim was a bit off. But, we kept having fun and teasing.
Her Spanish was a new tongue for me. My English was foreign to her. But, our smiles and gestures of elation were the universal language of the night.
Her friend came and whispered in my ear. She said that Cindy would really like the red pom poms in the first place bucket. Her aim didn’t score that high. But, the one who was sovereign over the rules of the game made some adjustments.
Cindy beamed when all three of her bean bags sailed through the pumpkin head. I handed her the red pom poms. What did I get? Cindy gave me a big hug and flashed her infectious smile all of which were connected to her heart of love.
photo credit: Google image
