Author Archive

Scheduling my evening to include a concert at Pine Knob made me hesitate.  The program would last long into the night.  It would a major addition to my calendar.

The deciding factors came quickly.  First, I was scheduled for a radio interview on 1500AM WLQV.  Each week I am a guest on the Paul Edwards Show.  We do “Theological Thursdays” by bantering over issues of theology.  Since Paul was doing an on-site broadcast at the concert, so a live interview made sense.  Besides, Paul was offering me free tickets to the concert.  “Free” is my favorite price!

Second, Steven Curtis Chapman and Michael W. Smith are favorite artists.  While not a fan of crowds, I was drawn to hear Steven’s heart.  The recent and tragic death of his adopted Chinese daughter tugged at my heart. 

Over the years I had heard of Pine Knob but had never been there.  I wasn’t even sure that I knew where it was.  But, with the address entered into my GPS I was following instructions by faith.

The interview with Paul Edwards was fun as always.  He is a good thinker, excellent conversationalist and professional from the start.  It is a priviege to be his guest.

Settled in my lawn chair and surrounded by my wonderful wife and great friends, stimulating conversation and laughter filled the waiting time.  Then the music started.  First, it was Matthew West and his very enjoyable warm up act.  Then, it was Steven Curtis Chapman. 

Steven’s heart led the way.  If you knew some of the details of his recent loss, you felt the realness of his soul.  His first song on God’s blessing was powerful and deeply meaningful.  The rest of the evening however became both very memorable and forgettable.

There was a power failure.  Everything went dark and silent.  Twenty minutes later power was restored and the concert continued.  It continued for at least one verse when the power was lost again.  The crowd entertained themselves.  Again the power was restored to cheers and applause. 

But, you guessed it.  The power was lost again.  For over an hour the cat and mouse game of power restored only to be lost again and again.  Finally, it was late and time to go home while the engineers worked to restore the power grid. 

The arena is owned by Detroit Edison, our exclusive area electric power company.  Oh, the irony!  I wonder if they missed a payment?

Part of the lure of a relaxed vacation is the absence a dress code, right?  In the morning I no longer have to match a tie with the rest of my outfit.  All I need are shorts, a shirt and sandals.  Those sandals proved to be dangerous!

I padded barefoot out on the deck that overlooks Small Traverse Bay.  If I closed my eyes and just listened I could have been next to the Pacific Ocean.  The wonderful smell of salt air was the only sensory stimuli missing.

That short jaunt on to the outside deck should have been a warning of what was to come.  Alert people pick up clues about impending matters of great importance.  This little warning would normally have put me on alert.  But, that’s the problem with being relaxed.  My guard was down!

This deck was beautifully stained to withstand the inclement Michigan weather.  Moisture, sun and changing temperatures wreak havoc on wooden structures.  One of the signs of a deck under tension are the nail heads that pop up from the decking.

Yes, as I sauntered my way out to the railing, one of those nail heads bit the bottom of my foot.  There was no real lasting pain.  I had escaped great pain but greater pain that was on its way.

Later that morning I put on my  casual clothes.  That also included dangerous sandals.  I hadn’t worn sandals for over a year.  Cowboy boots have been my first choice for every occasion for the past ten months.  I have dress boots, work boots, trucker boots and cycle boots.  But, when it’s time to wear shorts fashion rules force me to pass on the boots.

But, todays’ story tempts me to challenge those glamore mores.  I was out for a short walk in my sandals.  My journey took me over a path made of stone slabs.  More interested in my destination, I did not notice a half step up.

My exposed big toe caught the overhanding lip of jagged stone.  I did stumble.  But my highly trained cat-like reflexes developed over years of secret martial arts training kept me from falling.

Throbbing pain, oozing blood and torn skin was the picture of my big toe.  Dumb sandals!  I will no longer be a slave to fashion.  To protect our beautiful toes from harm, cowboy boots are now declared to be acceptable accessories with shorts.

Here I am for a few days of vacation on the beautiful shores of Lake Michigan.  It’s been a while since I have actually scheduled time to “do nothing.”  After a couple of hours of this relaxing stuff and I was itching to do something.

I was text messaging a friend and describing this feeling of aimlessness.  The reply came back offering me any help on how to “do nothing.”  That made me laugh.

So, I stepped out on the deck and watched the seagulls flying to and fro.  Their flight path dodged between trees so I had to bob my head back and forth to pick up their last glide path.  Seagulls may be common but they are amazing to watch.

One took off in flight from the shore.  It powerfully stroked the air and dipped an swooped low over the water.   Quickly, it dropped momentarily and lifted something off of the water.  Then, it landed on a rock and paused to enjoy an early morning snack.

Watching God’s creation is a great.  But, I had forgotten my camera on this trip.  Being out in the wilderness and not having my digital camera to record any such scenes made me purse my lips and call myself a not-so-nice name.

Well, I had slept in for almost an hour.  Then, I read a couple chapters in a good book.  Next, I had text-messaged several friends.   Then, I double-checked all of my email on my PDA.  My gull-watching had come to an end and it was only 10:30AM.

It was only my first day of vacation and I was feeling like a failure in the realm of relaxing.  What does one do when it’s time to relax?  I don’t think I remember if relaxing is all that satisfying or not.

I went for a short walk.  That was nice to take in the fresh air of the Great Lake.  The seagulls didn’t interest me much any more.  I tried to read another chapter of a book that I brought along.  But, I didn’t want to do it any more.

Aha!  My host mentioned that he had wireless internet service up here in his cottage.  So, I grabbed my computer and fired up my blog page.  Sure enough, a familiar screen appeared.  Recounting my struggle, I put it in words.  Now, you are a part of my vacation.  Are we relaxing yet?

There was never a time in my life when I ever thought that I would be making a living by asking other people for money.  My “job” is officially President of Michigan Theological Seminary.  For the uninitiated the title “President” is actually Latin for “fund-raiser.”

On a daily basis I am planning encounters to engage people and asked them for a donation.  If I’m not planning those encounters, then I am out doing the asking.  If I’m not planning on asking or actually doing the asking then I’m in bed praying about it or sound asleep.

Over the years I have developed a habit to make asking others for money easier.  I attempt to be a generous giver whenever God directs me.   My goal is to make a significant impact with the needs of those that God brings into my life.

All of us can learn generosity.  It is not a matter of how much we give.  Those figures are relative.  While institutions and large ministries receive gifts in the millions, sometimes a needy person just needs a meal, rent or a new coat.

Most likely there are many times during any given month that we actually come into contact with someone who is in need.  We just don’t always realize what is going on.

A long time ago someone asked me what it meant in Ecclessiastes 11:1 “Cast your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will find it again.”  Solomon is advising to invest in prudent ventures.  Diversity is part of it.  But, the investment component is essential. 

Giving is one of those ventures.  Righteous giving will find a way of returning to us.  Just as we like what business investments do, so our lives in any investment that is wise will bring a wonderful yield.

When we are generous with those that God brings into the circumference of our influence, we will be the beneficiaries of His goodness down the road.  It’s not just the indigent either.  Take a look around your church.  Single moms have it tough.  Those who have lost their jobs are gasping for air.  Someone who’s health has taken a turn for the worse need a leg up.

If we all practice righteous giving, God will show us who to bless.  When we invest in giving without noterity, God gives us something very special in return.  A grateful smile may reveal it all.

I was in a small town in Amish country.  Everything closed at 8PM.  I had no plans for the evening.  So an ad for an evening show caught my attention. 

The receptionist at the hotel directed me upstairs to the box office.  There was no box or office.  It was a folding table with a table cloth and two very nice people sitting next to a cash register.

I read his name tag and asked him, “Ryan, is the show pretty good?” 

With a big teethy smile he swiftly shot back,”Yes, sir.  You’ll enjoy the show.  Do you like Blue Grass music and Country Gospel?”

“Hmmm, ” I thought, “If you were to give the show four stars for OUTSTANDING or one star for GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK, how would you rate the show?” I inquired both with a bit of humor yet serious curiosity.

Ryan thought for just a moment then answered, “I’d give it three stars.” 

There really wasn’t anything else to do for the evening.  Then came the tipping point.  I asked if there was a bargain combination price for dinner with the show.  When the affirmative followed I was pulling out my credit card.  It was a decisive moment for a fun evening.

Dinner was early that night.  The show started at 7PM with a preshow scheduled for 5:45PM.   Ryan recommended that we take our dinner at 4:30PM so that we could enjoy it with plenty of time to make it to the theater.  It proved to be great advice.

Dinner was delicious.  It was a similar family style cuisine like our first dinner in Amish country.  Just as delightful was the service.  Again our waitress had a contagious smile.

Next, we made it into the theater for the preshow.  Kari was a local piano teacher on her way to Graduate School majoring in piano performance.  She played for an hour and she was fabulous on the ivory keys. 

Then, came the main event.  Blue Grass Gospel filled the theater with songs of faith, fun and family.  Besides the singing there was plenty of picking and strumming.  My foot tapped to an amazing rendition of Duelin’ Banjos.

Many of the performers spoke of their devotion to Christ and the One who inspired their music.  It was my first Blue Grass concert.  I still don’t think that I can define it.  But, it has to include a lot of guitar, banjo, foot stomping, hand clapping fun.

My choice for dinner was all based on a picture in a tourist magazine.  But it really did look good.  Even the waitress in the picture sported a welcoming smile.  The ad seemed genuine, so I was determined to give it a try.

I’ve been in restaurants before that touted “home cooking.”  But, once the food was served I was under-impressed.  What does “home cooking” mean anyway?  Everything that is served must be hot.  None of it can be overcooked.  Specialty servings like biscuits must be fluffy and still warm.

Scheduling would be a bit of a challenge.  I could leave for this two day adventure right after work.  But, it would still be a three hour drive.  En route we called ahead to check on the restuarant hours.  We would arrive at 7:30 PM.  That meant that we had a thirty minute window.  They would close at 8PM. 

This restaurant was located right in the middle of Amish country.  We arrived with twenty minutes to spare.  There was no menu.  Family style is the only option.  I could choose between green beans and corn or all chicken or a combination of chicken and shredded beef.  Naturally, I voted for all chicken.  That’s what was in the picture after all!

The waitress was amazing.  She had a cheer about her that made the evening unforgettable.  During our order she was quick to banter, make appropriate inquiries and cheer our adventure in Amish country. 

Evening beverages were simple.  The food came very quickly.  Everyone around us was having chicken.  I was so taken by the experience that I forgot to order dark meat, my personal preference.  No restaurant cooks white meat without drying it out.

Sure enough when the dinner was quickly served, my enthusiasm faultered.  Half of the chicken was white meat.  Groan, I was fully expecting the meat to be dry and to use a glass of any close by beverage to lubricate it down.  I was wrong.  It was not only amazingly tasty but wonderfully moist.

Rarely does a picture promise all of our expectations and accurately deliver.  Yet, marketing people can usually capture my attention with their slick commercials.  This time, however, I was impressed.  Whatever I expected I don’t recall the details, but just like God delivers on all of His promises, this resataurant did the same. Yum!

I listened intently to the well scriptied presentation of Anabaptist history.  Religious persecution is an unforgettable and ugly part of their identity.  Names and faces of men and women who were martyred and tortured because their faith made others feel uncomfortable.

My mind recoils from the dastardly truth of human history.  Those in power who did not like the faith-lifestyle of those who lived differently than them attempted to force changes on the lives of others.  This oppression produced martyrs among the simple lives of the Mennonites.

Some were drowned. Others were burned alive.  Yet, with sad horror I also listened when the narrator quickly added that some were disembowled while alive.  And still others were maimed.

A word of hope came to this oppressed yet gentle people.  They heard William Penn’s promise of religious freedom in America.  This hope attracted whole communities to leave everything and risk a harrowing journey, cross the ocean, start a new life and begin a new legacy for future generations.

There is a caveat of irony in this story of a disaspora.  Russia drove out the Mennonites from their country.  This passive community took their way of life and faith with them.  This hardworking people also took their red wheat.  It was a hearty strain with qualities that resisted the challenges of disease and weather.

In America’s heartland this branch of the Anabaptists, the Mennonites, thrived both as a people and as a successful community of wheat raising farmers.  Their special strain of red wheat was prolific.  In time the bountiful harvest of wheat produced bumper crops. 

That’s where the irony appeared in world history.  Russia experienced disastrous crop failures.  In need of major food supplies, they received food stores from the bumper crops of America’s harvest of red wheat.  The very people whom they had driven out of their own country were now the source for feeding their own country.  The nation that had persecuted them for their faith, now paid dearly for the food relief that they desperately needed to survive.

Beyond the irony of this economic turnabout, is the relative silence of the Mennonites who became a blessng to their once ruthless persecutors.  There was no bitterness.  There was no haughtiness.  Nor could I find any price gouging expressed out of revenge.  Gentle faith expressed itself in generosity.  Historic irony made a difference  for a hungry nation.  Genuine faith made a quiet difference.

There has been a lingering curiosity in the back of my mind.  Occasionally, that curiosity has surfaced from a clip of a movie, an article of interest or in a few cases a brief drive through a special part of the country.  A fleeting look at one of those curious plain black buggies, drawn by a single horse power peeked a desire that I would seek some answers to questions now formed in my mind. 

Who are the Amish?  What prompted their unique lifestyle?  Where did they come from?  When did this culture come to the USA?  Why would they choose to live such contrastive lives? 

Finally, a break in my schedule occurred.  So, I planned a two-day trip to Northern Indiana to visit Amish Country.  I read the background material that I had gathered.  Of all of the options, I only had a priority on two choices.

First, I wanted to experience a traditional Amish family dinner.  One restaurant featured that choice.  That was my first stop.  It was delicious, bountiful and delightfully serviced with remarkably a friendly wait staff.

Second, I wanted to visit a site that would answer my long standing questions about the Amish.  A special place called Menno Hoff, offered a multi-media presentation that promised me all of the answers and background information that I was seeking.

I learned that the roots of the Amish are related to the Mennonites and Hutterites.  All three groups emerged from the Anabaptist movement in Europe.  Faith in God and a real life that lived out their beliefs is at the heart of the Amish people.

Suffering for their beliefs was replete.  Religious persecution drove these people from the lands of Europe to the promise of friendlier shores in the New World of America.  They left everything and risked all because of their devotion to their faith.

Three tenets mark this remarkable community: Faith, Family and Friends.  These values are couched in the embrace of Community and personal humility.  These people aren’t being odd to be a spectacle.  It is a chosen lifestyle that gives them deeply valued satisfaction that their faith is real.  Ultimately, that is a pursuit that I can embrace, can’t you?

I grew up in the beautiful Sacramento Valley.  Like all of the locals I learned to enjoy the evening cooler temperatures and cloud-filled skies.  That time of day welcomed a lazy lay on the backyard lawn.  One such repose became my solitary bee story.

Layin down on the lawn, legs crossed and hand interlocked behind my head was just the position for day time relaxation.  I watched God’s great creation of cumulus clouds float by.  In reflective Charlie Brown and Linus tradition, I saw animals, boats, faces, words and landscapes take on momentary shapes in cotton-like forms.

Like a horse batting away pesky flies with its tail, I swatted an occasional fly the hovered around my head.  At the time I thought it was a fly.  But, one time when I swatted I heard a louder more distinct buzzing.  There was a vibration at the point of impact that was much more than a fly.

Turning my head I saw that around one of our flowering bushes in the yard, honey bees were gathering nectar from the blossoms.  I could even smell the fragrance of the bush that was a beacon to bees busy looking for nutrition for the hive.

Then, I looked over on the lawn to my left.  What I had once thought was a fly hovering around my head, was a bee.  A direct hit with my aimless swat had grounded that flying insect to groping through the long blades of grass.  I made a mental note of its position just to avoid coming into contact with an angry insect with a whopper of a stinger in its tail.

I settled back into my relaxed position and enjoyed more imagination in the sky.  Time passed quickly.  I lost track of it.  Now, it was time to get up.  But, when I put my hand down on the grass to push myself up, I recoiled with the shock of a stinging pain.

There in my left palm was a honeybee stinger pulsating, pumping venom into my hand.  I looked down at the now dying bee, staring at all of its compound eyes.  He was smiling!

I could have called the Fire Department or Paramedics.  But, they would’ve just sent in eight burly guys with loads of equipment.  The look of disappointment on their faces would have been self-evident.  They were hoping to rescue a beautiful damsel in distress but all they got was a very honorable Asian guy.

For most of my adult life I have rebelled against being pigeon-holed.  I have taken great effort to not be labeled.  Whether it is political views, theological opinions, fashion or stereotypical biases I try to live an ecclectic, open and inscrutible life.

My tastes in music is as varied as humanly possible.  I like Christian contemporary, pop, jazz, classical, light rock, marches, elevator music and even country.  When it comes to reading I love to read my Bible, espionage, Westerns, outdoor adventure, biography and most recently Christian suspense thrillers.  Hobbies range from the sedate hike to hunting, fishing, motorcycling, swimming and roller skating. 

But, I will surrender to certain accusations about “guy things.”  I am not keen on shopping malls.  There is a factual demonstrable presence of Kryptonite in the floors of every shopping mall in the world.

Also, I cannot understand the logic of the toilet seat position.  Why do guys get the blame for leaving the seat up?  We guys use the seat half of the time while women use it all the time.  Frequency of use suggests to my “guy mind” that the one who always uses the seat should always check that  it is down first!

There’s another guy-thing that I relate to with great bias.  I like opening the door for my lady.  It’s not a chauvinistic action.  It is a way to honor her.

One other guy thing is one that I relate to as well.  When I’m facing an ailment, I don’t easily go to the doctor.  Steve knows that.  When I come in or give him a call we talk about a lot of stuff.  We check on our families, our walk of faith and the latest pressure of our lives.  Then, as my Primary Care Physician, Steve eventually gets down to business.

He asks me why I’ve come.  While in Africa I picked up a soar throat that hasn’t gone away.  It’s been a week since landing in the USA and it is still hurting.  In addition to that my finger had a cut on it and now the wound has swollen and is sore to the touch.

Steve smiles.  He comments that my handshake was a little weak and tentative.  The rubber gloves come on and he examines my hand.  Then, he looks into my throat, “Yuck! You’ve got Strep!”  Is that a professional expression?  Oh, well, it’s a guy thing.

I was already getting ready for bed when my cell phone rang.  I studied the telephone number of the caller.  It did not register in my memory.  Momentarily, I almost ignored it.  I’m glad that I didn’t.

Pressing the green telephone button, I announced my salutation, “Hello.”  To which the other person on the line identified themselves as the airline delivery service.  He said that he had my missing luggage and could return it to my house in about two hours. 

At first I hesitated.  In two hours it would be past midnight.  But, I didn’t want to lose a chance to regain my luggage after such a long separation.  He suggested that I leave a note giving him permission to leave my luggage at the door.  “No,” I replied quickly, “it’s too valuable to be left unattended.  Go ahead and come.”

My son came home and said that he would stay up until Midnight.  With that I went off to bed, confident that with the morning would come a welcomed reunion.  Sleep came quickly for me and when I sleep, I sleep soundly.

It was odd for me to hear both in the world of dreams and in the world of awakening.  First, it was the sound of buzzing that crossed between these two worlds.  There was only noise, no light.  Pounding finally pulled me from dreamland into the darkness of the real world.

A feint voice was calling from outside.  I grabbed my glasses.  My cell phone was ringing.  But, it was 2AM.  Who could want me now?  What could be happening that was so important?

That’s when the brain kicked into gear.  My luggage!  I leaped from my bed, grabbed the door knob, stumbled down the stairs and threw open the door.  No one was there!  I took two steps on to the cold concrete porch and stretched to peer around the corner of my house, “Hello!”

“Airport luggage delivery.  Are you expecting luggage?” came the response out of the darkness.  “Yes! Please!  I’ve been looking forward to it.”

With a large smile he came around the corner carrying my bag.  It had been away from me almost as long as I had been away.  Even at that very early hour, I experienced such great relief.  Once very lost, this special piece of my life was once again found.  That is a very good Biblical end of a long story.

Are you one of those who is so self-confident that you return products without hesitation?  No matter how the Return Department sends out their vibes you are certain and determined?  Once the transaction is completed to your satisfaction, you walk out confident and have no regrets?  I admire you!  I’m not like that.

I bought a GPS unit for my truck about five months ago.  It was a great tool for all of my travels.  But, recently it stopped working.  I groaned for two reasons.  First, it’s not an inexpensive item.  To have it break down in less than six months is not right.  Second, now I had to go through the agony of trying to return it.

I gathered all of the pieces that I remembered coming with the original purchase.  But, that was five months ago.  However, I did have the receipt filed away correctly.

Once at the store, I took a deep breath and walked confidently up to the counter.  It didn’t do me any good.  There were no smiles.  The woman directed me to place all of the pieces on the counter.  Immediately she identified a missing item.  She asked if I had the original packaging.  “No,” I answered quietly. 

Without any eye contact she was on the phone and asked for another person to join her.  Soon another woman came into the scene and she identified two other pieces that were missing.  Groan.  I was embarassed and feeling like I was trying to cheat the store.  All I really wanted is one that works!

Oh, fudge, I picked up all the pieces that I had brought.  I made sure that I retrieved my receipt.  They didn’t even compliment me on having the receipt.  That’s usually what I get chewed out for not having. 

Return clerks have such a stone-faced look to them.  They talk to each other like I’m not there…or not human…or not honest.  It’s such a demeaning experience.

Others in line don’t seem to be so bothered.  They make their returns simply and cleanly then leave.  I’m sweating bullets and feeling guilty through the whole episode. 

Stepping out into the fresh air helped.  Now, back at home I find two of the three missing items that I needed.  Sigh…without the last missing piece, I guess I can’t go back.  All that bother for nothing.   Can the image of God lose any more of its luster?

My luggage from South Africa hasn’t made its way home.  I have been back in Michigan since Tuesday.  My lost luggage is now six days late.

Of course luggage has no feelings.  The way those pieces get knocked around and beat up it’s a good thing that they don’t.  If luggage had feelings there would be a lot of groaning around the conveyor belt systems of the world.

There can’t be any possibility for feelings when it comes to personal space.  Luggage is thrown tightly on to the transportation wagons.  When they come spilling on to the carousel they topple over on each other trying to make their way to their eager owners.

I have watched as the handlers load the luggage on to the plane.  Peering out of the airline window, I witness the absence of tender loving care.  I would never handle my luggage with such calloused disregard.  Now, to be fair if it were my job and I had to do it all day, all week and for years on end, I might get that rough too.

Oops!  One of the bags jams up the progress up the conveyor.  The luggage ahead of it have stopped.  But, the belt keeps moving.  One of the bags at the highest level of its open air journey gets pushed off the belt and it falls to the ground.  If that bag had feelings I would have heard it scream while falling, then groaning after it bounced on the tarmac.

I have two missing bags on this trip.  That’s a 100% missing luggage report that I had to file.  One of my bags made it home on Friday.  It was three days late.  I interrogated it but all it would do was whimper.  I asked if authorities had violated its privacy, suspicious of a full-cavity search.  My duffle bag just moaned. 

There was a note in my bag.  It was a printed note.  A scribbled signature was on the bottom indicating that a real human had placed it there.  None of the contents were as I had packed them.  The order was chaotic and in disarray.  But at least it was all returned.

Now for one more bag.  I don’t know why it was detained.  The Dutch police called me.  They told me that they had my luggage.  I could hear it crying for me in the back ground.  It’s lost but may soon be found.  Almost sounds Biblical, eh?

I pledge allegiance to the Flag
of the United States of America
and to the Republic for which it stands,
one nation, under God, indivisible,
with liberty and justice for all.

“I pledge” This is something that I do.  No one forces me to do it.  It is a personal choice that I make because I want to do it.  I am a man of my word.  It is essential to me that I keep my promises and this pledge is one that I intend to keep.

“allegiance to the Flag” Our great country has my loyalty.  I am devoted as a privileged recipient who lives here to love this nation.  The stars and stripes make my spirit soar with pride.   My allegiance to her is solid, uncompromising and devoted.

“of the United States of America”  The land of the free and the home of the brave.  That is America to me.  Whether it is the Presidential seal, the money that we use every day or the monuments that mark this nation, I am stirred deeply within when our country’s name is read or spoken.

“and to the Republic for which it stands”  In our nation we are represented by people that we elect to office.  They will serve this nations’ best interests and its citizens as well. That is why I faithfully vote and urge others to do the same. 

“one nation”  The color of a person’s skin is not nearly as important as the uniform color of the blood that has been spilt by brave men and women fighting for our freedom.  We are a part of a solid nation built on a brilliant constitution and bill of rights.  Our soil is our home and our haven.

“under God”  At the heart of our patriotism is the Divine charge to invest our lives as good citizens following the leadership that God has appointed.  All who serve are in place because of His appointment.  Ultimately our trust is in Him. 

“indivisible”  What we share in common is stronger than our differences.  There’s energy in our processes but finally we are one.  We do freedom together.

“with liberty and justice for all”  Freedom is at the heart of our nation.  That’s what the USA is all about.  Fairness is not our watch word.  “Justice” is what we live by and the heart of our respect and value for every citizen of this great land.

Happy Birthday, USA!

One morning I rearranged my schedule. It wasn’t hard to do. When I can schedule a meeting during breakfast, I will. That is my favorite meal of the day. Besides, I am always ready to meet with a friend.

He wanted to eat breakfast late. Our rendezvous time was 8:30AM. Since my usual wake-up time is 5:30AM I had three hours to assign for other projects. That’s not too difficult.

First, I spent a chunk of time writing. Then, I spent my usual time praying. Have you plugged-in time spent for prayer as a key part of your day? It will change your day to be both productive and satisfying.

Finally, I had some bank business, planning and organization to do before I was off to breakfast.  A big clock in my office kept me on schedule.  My internal clock for promptness kept me on schedule.

My buddy picked the restaurant. It surprised me. I had been past that location many times but I never remembered the restaurant. But, once I rounded the corner, there it was. He arrived first.

We had the usual pleasantries.  There were a lot of laughs.  Good natured teasing is a part of what men do.

It wasn’t long before we were into the meat of life and its challenges.  My friend is alone.  His marriage disolved officially in this past year.  I watched him travel down that painful road.  It is a horrific experience.

The process of a marriage coming to an end is ugly.  Two who know each other closely and now have rigid lines of bias against each other is painful to watch.  Knowledge used to cause pain in the life of another is a sad experience.  Intimate knowledge used to inflict deep agony is unimaginably excrutiating.

All I could do was listen.  He talked.  He talked some more.  Then, he talked even more. 

Breakfast was served and we both poked at our food.  We stirred our eggs around and nibbled on our breakfast meats a bit.  But, the real reason for meeting was for one to talk and another to listen.  There was no great advice to be given.  So, I didn’t give any.

He picked up the tab.  We shook hands.  He smiled.  With his smile he expressed his appreciation for our time together.  He wanted to do that again, soon.  I watched him drive away.  Loneliness is the pits.

I owe an apology to one of God’s created creatures.  In the past I used the Wildebeast as an illustration.  Unfortunately, I drew only from my research in reading without sufficient validation.  I called the Wildebeast “ugly.”

Such a perjorative jab turned out to be a misleading.  I had a close encounter with a WIldebeast.  While in the bush with my guide, he led me to witness this powerful and enduring creature.  But, holding a camera and standing in the wrong place could be hazardous to my health.

Before I could snap a picture, my guide put his hand in front of my progress.  He warned me to stay behind him.  Of course I complied.  It was a moment of obedience that I now live to appreciate.

Only moments after I moved to stand safely behind my guide, this Blue Wildebeast jumped up from its lying down position, charged straight ahead, veered off the left and was determined to escape his human company.   If I had been were I was, it would have run me over and left me stomped into the Kalahari sand.

I watched Wildebeast run.  It ran and ran and ran.  My guide told me that he never trusts Wildebeast no matter how docile they look.  They are strong and unpredictable. 

My mind raced to the sermon illustration that I used from the life of the Wildebeast.  One of the statments that I made was to quote a book that I read that called this animal the “clown of Africa”.  After witnessing this amazing creature in person, now I think of endurance, determination and toughness.

We peered through some small trees on to a grassland pasture.  Delight broke out across my face when a herd of speedy and graceful Impala raced by.  Seemingly spending more time in the air than on the ground, they nearly looked effortless in their morning run. 

For a moment God let me chuckle at one of His more comical critters, the Warthog.  It’s face is speckled with protrusions that look like warts.  It’s huge head seems out of balance with its stubby body.  The flat bridge of its snout is flanked by two hug tusks.  Pumba doesn’t seem to be nearly as intimidating.

God’s creation is amazing.  He certainly deposited a lot of His attention on the animals of this amazing continent.  He is the great Creator.

Saying “Good-bye” to my African hosts was a special moment. My guides have been teasing me all day. We poked fun at each other and exclaimed, “It will make easier to say Good-bye!

The hospitality of Harry and Jolane has been world-class. Looking through their guest book signatures are from all around the world. Even though the homes of their guests ring the globe, their comments are very similar. People gush over the thrill of being here in the African bush with the amazing hospitality of this special couple.

Harry greeted everyone in our party by their first name the first time that he met us. All during our stay he addressed us personally. There’s something special about hearing someone use your name.

Jolane’s hospitality shone throughout the day. Their lodge which doubled as their home was immaculate and decorated with the African motif. Colors, shapes, designs and accents made me feel that I was surrounded by the African experience.

Add to the decor was the delicious dinner that she prepared each night. Harry beat the drum when dinner was served. Once inside the table was coordinated with matching table cloth, dinner ware and Jolane was dressed to match. Each night of our stay there was a different table setting theme. Rotating colors, dishes and accents caught the attention of even all of the male guests.

Harry toasted all of us with a personal welcome. In the morning we were invited to a self-serve breakfast bar. Once we set out for a day of exploring with our guide and tracker, we were sent out with a cooler of beverages, a bag full of snacks and a cooler filled with specialty sandwiches, fruit and finger foods. I was blown away by the detail of their daily care for us.

In the evening when we returned, our rooms had been completely refreshed. Linens were changed, bed coverings were rotated and our laundry was washed, pressed, folded and laid out on our beds … every day! Of course fresh towels were replaced and color coordinated … again, every day.

Harry and Jolane’s kind spirit and welcoming hearts touched me deeply. They expressed their constant gratitude for our coming to stay. I don’t know if I will ever get the chance to visit again but if you are looking for an outstanding African experience, I would highly recommend the lodge of Harry and Jolane Claassen (www.harryclaassenssafaris.com).  Enough pampering for me. It’s time to go home.

Last night after a full day of hiking through the bush, great fellowship around the campfire, amazing friendship-building at supper everyone began to retire for the night.  It was the perfect time to wander away from the camp a few yards and take in a very special vista.  Night had settled into the bush but the show was just beginning.

Now it was no longer time to look into the eyes of new friends.  Nor was it time to pitch in and move gear, help sort out equipment or exchange contact informtion.  This was a special moment of soiltude. 

I had dreamed of this moment.  When I put together a very short list of things to do while here in the bush, this was one of them.  My past evenings were filled with activity so I had to put off this special moment. 

On my second to last night here in the bush I wanted to say Good-bye to Africa and to thank the Lord for this special journey.  My friend Stephen was God’s instrument to make this trip possible.  God’s generosity in my life was channelled through this special servant of His.

My eyes turned upward.  Darkenees filled up the land that occupied my days.  Now the spectacular view was above.  I looked up and gathered in the expanse of a night sky filled with countless stars.

The constellations were not familiar to me.  I could see the clear patterns but had no knowledge of their names.  However, the countless numbers of stars was breathtaking.  I felt engulfed by the speckles of sparkling celestial bodies.

Decorating God’s created astronomical skyscape was the Milky Way.  I know.  Those who live in the city think that I’m talking about a candy bar.  But, for those who paid attention in fifth grade science, that band of glittering lights natually broadened my smile.

I have no statistics of what others consider when they gaze on such a sight.  All I know is that when I take all of this in I know that my God created it all and did so that I could stand amazed at His greatness and power.  This wonderful and almighty Creator is my Heavenly Father who loves me completely.

As I leave Africa, I bring so much of my experience home with me.  The richness of new friends, deep touches from my Lord and great memoreies in the bush are locked in my heart forever.  Good-bye, Africa!

/>Having no expectations of what I will see South Africa, has left me with the best strategy on approaching each new day.  Instead, I let the day unfold at the recommendation of my very capable guide and tracker.  They have some amazing talents. 

Off we drove at the crack of dawn.  The air was very cool.  I had every piece of my four layer system thought out and applied.  My hat was pulled down tightly over my head.  Lastly, as we headed north in the shadow of a new and spectacular sunrise, I pulled on my gloves. 

After an hour, we arrived at a local rancher’s private preserve.  There’s always time for a neighborly greeting in this country.  Then, we headed through his cattle corral and sped down a two-track dirt road.

I almost spilled out of my seat when our guide quickly brought the vehicle to a halt and whispered loudly to me, “Steinsbuck!”  This amazing creature is like a small deer.  How small?  It has the body size of a Deutschund but with longer legs.  Its ears are as long as its face and it has two small horns that are as long as its ears.  It raced across the road, then it posed long enough for me to capture a permanent moment.

Then our Guide pointed over the hill.  We climbed out of the truck, quietly walked up to the rise, hid behind a tree.  We were admiring at a small herd of grazing Springbuck.  These animals are acrobatic leapers.

Next, my guide who is always quite calm turned and called out to me with excitement, “Red Hartebeast!”  On a ridge to our right, this creature with a beautiful red coat and horns that they looked like a direct design from Dr. Seuss peared down at our little party.  He stayed there long enough for my guide and tracker to inform me that this was one of the largest of this species that he has seen in a long time.

We had only gotten started on the road again when we stopped.  No words were used this time.  Instead, just a steady point off to our right.  There waiting to pose for pictures were a family of giraffes.  They were grazing on the leaves of tall grove of trees. 

God is such an artist!  When He designed creation, He gave us so much variety just to remind us of how remarkable He is.  Have you taken in a little bit of His creation lately?  It will make you marvel at HIm.

Pictures of the grand sights of Africa are easily accessible.  I read several books on this continent.  In addition I also surfed the web which gave me an education of what to expect in this amazing country.  But, pictures, DVD’s and books never replace personal experience.

Today was a busy day.  I was up at five.  My bunkhouse was about 30 feet from the shower room.  I wanted to to get there before everyone else crowded in for this morning ritual.

Next, I collected all of the gear that I would use for the day.  My clothing was planned for layers. My camera bag held just the right equipment.  My camera tripod would get a workout in the field today.

After an hour drive we pulled into the private reserve of a rancher.  He welcomed us with that now very familiar sound of his Afrikaans language and a genuinely warm smile.  My guide exchanged greetings and reviewed a strategy for the day.

Off we drove in our 4×4 down a dusty road, flanked by cattle fences and amazing vistas.  The morning sun was starting to warm our day.  It was only a matter of time when the tracker whispered, “Kudu.” 

This was one of the animals that I wanted to see with my own eyes.  Many who have travelled here personally identify this majestic creature as the King of the Antelope family.  A mature bull stands at five feet tall at its shoulder.  The markings on its hide are unique and gallant.  It’s head it held high with large ears to tell of coming dangers.  But, it’s horns are grand.  They spiral upwards spanning nearly 50inches in length.

The bull disappeared into the brush.  But while its body was out of sight, its horns danced on top of the native flora.  Our tracker motioned us off of the truck.  Into the woods we walked.  With diliberate movements and circular advances, our tracker paused and pointed to the outstanding Kudo standing a mere 165 yards away between two trees. It took my breath away. 

On top of that you should have seen the sunset.  The sky darken, the horizon transfored into splashes of gold, orange, reds and yellows.  It sillouettes the trees with stunning contrast.  You may have seen pictures.  You may even see some of my pictures soon.  But, pictures don’t take your breath away.  Seeing all of this yourself does.

One of my travelling friends asked me if I knew how long we had been on this journey.  I told him that we had been on our third plane for about an hour and we had another thirty minutes to go.  He laughed.  “No, I meant, how long have we been travelling in order to get to our final destination.”  We both laughed and then agreed that we had been en route for two solid days!

To get from SE Michigan to the camp in north central South Africa required quite a journey.  Our plane from Detroit to Amersterdam was eight hours.  Then, we had a three hour lay over in that city reclaimed from the sea.  After an unexpected four-hour maintenance problem and the ten hour flight to South Africa our travel time was really starting to pile up.

Of all things our late arrival to the city put us into our hotel very late.  Although our reservations had been made three months earlier and confirmed just days ealier, there were no rooms available once we arrived.  The management waited on us tirelessly until we got everyone settle into a room.  We got to bed at 4AM.

A short night of rest recharged our batteries.  I even wrote a blog that same day!  Now our little party took an hour drive by shuttle buses north to Pretoria.  There we jumped on to two twelve-passenger single-prop planes.  This plane ride was about 90 minutes long but put us safely down on a gravel landing strip far to the Northeast of this vast continent.  One hour later in other shuttle vans, we had safely arrived at our final diestination.

Settled in I grabbed my gear and went our to meet my guide.  We discussed our strategy and took off into the dessert-like plains and brush of the South African wilderness.  Now, my adventure had really begun! 

I was taking the new scenery all in with every sense that God had created in each of us.  It was breath-taking.  The vast sky, the endless desert and the signs of animal life made me think that a mammal convention was once here.

Our tracker and guide brought our 4×4 to a slow halt.  He motioned to me without words.  I grabbed my camera and followed right behind him.  My face was dressed in a smile.  There was my first shot to photograph Africa’s amazing wildlife.  It was the beginning of a great adventure.

My alarm clock chirped at 5:30AM.  Both of my eyes popped open and my mind was already racing.  My to-do-list for this special Sunday was long.  It wasn’t a nuisance.  Nothing could discourage me today.  Afterall, I was on my way to a great adventure.

First, if I was going to enjoy my great adventure to South Africa I had to finish packing.  Second, I wanted to finish off the last few household chores on my list.  Third, I wanted to study for my preaching at a local church that very morning.

This Sunday I didn’t want to forget anything.  Forgetting something important on this trip of a lifetime would be a sour memory.  Or if I messed up my preaching, then eternity would be scarred.  Either or both would be a bad feeling that I wanted to avoid at all costs.

I checked off my daily chores.  All of the housekeeping necessities were complete.  That was great!  Then, I was on time as the visiting speaker of a local church.  It was a great morning speaking to a very receptive and friendly audience. Finally, after completing everything on all of my lists it was time to go to the airport and catch my plane.

There were no mishaps on the first leg of my trip to South Africa.  Once I was in the Netherlands a few glitches cropped up.  Some of my equipment in my checked luggage alerted authorities.  Two armed police officers found me on the plane and notified me that I didn’t have the proper permit for the transportation of these items.  I could either file for a permit or pay a stiff fine.  I opted for the former, let them keep what they took and wondered how to replace those specialty items that would forever find a home in Holland.

Safely on the KLM flight for Johannesburg I thought that the trip was still going to be fantastic.  But, my opportunity to enjoy that anticipation expanded itself.  Our jet had an ignition problem in engine #3.  We had to taxi to a repair area for a quick 30 minute manual override.  That turned into a longer one hour delay, which ultimately took over four hours to complete.

It didn’t matter.  I was my way to a great adventure.  The little stuff didn’t even put a dent into my enthusiasm.  To be quite frank, that’s a great way to approach all of life.  Are you game?  Let’s do that together!

There is a corner in my home office that has a pile of stuff that is growing larger and larger.  Today I catch a plane for my first trip to South Africa.  This is a trip of a lifetime.

I have read three books about Africa as a part of my preparation.  Regularly I have been surfing internet sites for helpful information.  Everything is being planned to avoid problems and have a fabulous trip.  No one on an adventure wants any problems!

Getting ready for such an overseas adventure calls for a lot of advanced preparation.   I am thinking through what I need to bring: camera gear, appropriate clothing and electronics.  Also, I am trying to figure out a plan for my blogging.

Yes, you, my faithful readership are a part of my overseas planning.  Unfortunately, my South African hosts may not be able to help me log on to the internet.   But, no worries, right?

The good-ol’-college-try spirit inside of me is optimistic.  If at all possbile, I will be in touch with you as this amazing experience unfolds or at the very least a recounting after it is completed.  Many dream of a trip like this but are never able to make it.  I know that I am blessed and I am very grateful that God has made this possibility happen.

It also comes at a good time.  My heart is full but my spirit is weary.  A break is a good thing for me right now.

Maybe in the gorgeous mornings of a spectacular sunrise or in the mystery of the coming nights, I will get closer to that peace that only He can give.  My plate has been full.  More gets piled on than gets moved off.  Yet, my determination is intact and I am ready to face anything.

Africa will be an infusion of refreshment.  Close to His creation I’ll talk openly to Him about my heart issues.  Surrounded by zebra, kudu, impala, sable, wildebeasts, warthogs and oryx I’ll marvel at the beasts of the field.  It will be a reminder that He can do anything. 

It started out as an adventure.  Now, it is turning into a personal retreat.  I’ve been needing a break to sort out the essentials of my life and figure out how His peace fits into it all.  I hope to connect with you from the dark continent in a day or two.  Hakunamata!

God has never consulted with me about how life should be ordered.  If He called on me to chat, then I would instantly be ready with a list to help Him design His plans.  Maybe as I write this blog He will take note and give me a nod.

I know that He seemingly has not been giving attention to my life because I have been experiencing so many problems.  In my line of work there are constant demands for problem-solving.   Doesn’t God know my schedule has NO time for these intrusions, especially since I did not choose them?

Every day problems visit me like the unwelcomed flu.  They greet my life at all hours of the day. They always demand a lot of attention and drain away a lot of energy.

That’s when I abruptly inform them that they don’t have an appointment and should not take up so much time.  Once in a while, I attempt to will them away.  That is I try to ignore them for a moment and hope that they’ll disappear on their own.

I don’t implement that technique for very long.  They have a nasty habit of multiplying when you avoid them.  Left on their own they also become more complicated and tangled.

Certainly I never asked for the challenges that test my mind and tear at my heart.  Those kinds of emotionally taxing experiences in life aren’t ones that I would choose for myself.  Who would ever deliberately plan heartache into their own lives?

I would certainly get a lot more accomplished if I could just do what I need to do without any distractions or intrusions.  These problems of mind and heart are so exhausting.  Maybe God would at the very least be open to a moratorium on problems, say for a lifetime, maybe two?

But, I digress.  If God would give me one chance to help Him adjust His plans, I would just remove the hurt of a broken heart, put a cap on the agony that comes from failed hope and remove the pain that comes from unfulfilled passions.  I would be all for stopping dreams that have no chance of becoming reality. 

Dashed hopes and surprise disappointments are a bummer.  Show me the picture of what is to come, let’s get it done and move on to the next project.  Shattered dreams cut ragged gashes in my soul and really hurt.

Well there you have it. That’s my blueprint to counsel the Almighty.  Hmmm…do you think He will call?

The announcement that it was time to board my Michigan-bound plane was a welcome one.  I gathered my belongings and stood to join the crowd.  That’s when I witnessed the ugly formation of racial prejudice begin to take shape.

An Asian man was struggling with his carry-on luggage while juggling his briefcase and trying to retrieve his boarding pass.  By now the crowd had become tight around the jetway entrance.  Next to me was an anxious Asian woman. 

The Asian man turns around and shouts loudly in Mandarin.  He is calling his wife to hurry up and join him.  She couldn’t see a way through the people to get to him.  He turns to the crowd and orders bruskly that she is with him and to let her through. 

It startled the people who were near.  Several rolled their eyes.  One muttered that there was no reason to be rude.  I could sense the beginnings human prejudice forming.  It was a feeling that I hated.

Once on the plane this man was across the aisle from me, one row back.  Again he was loud and obnoxious.  He whined arbitrarily in broken English that someone had taken up his overhead space so he now had to take someone else’s.  At that the man sitting behind me, jumped up grabbed his bag from that overhead bin and angrily shoved it under the seat.

The grumpy Asian man was abrupt with the Attendant who tried to assist.  It was annoying to watch this scenario unfold.  I wanted to get involved.

Once we were airborn, I delibertely engaged the attendant in a delightful conversation.  We talked about the plane, sunsets and airline luggage rules.  We laughed with a lot of spirit.  She was smiling.

Next, I complemented the man sittng across the aisle.   He was one of those who was startled by the Asian man’s brash orders.  Now, he smiled cheerfully.

Once we landed I noticed a company logo on the shirt of the man who was sitting behind me.   I asked him about one of the products that his company sold.  That is when I was careful to pass on a genuine compliment about that product.  He smiled too.

It took an entire flight to give those offended people a positive encounter with a different Asian man.  I was intentional.  But, I also believe that that is exactly what the LORD wanted me to do.

Starting out my day with a brisk bicycle ride invigorates me.  I’ll spend an hour working on my computer, then, put on my riding gear and wheel out my mount into the cool morning air.  Once I start peddaling, my mind starts racing too.

My route is adventuresome.  It will zig zag through my neighborhood and then up and down and around some modest hills.  During my escapade I’m watching for cars in a hurry to get to work, pedestrians lost in lala land and the feisty pair of geese who want to claim all routes as their territory.

After five plus miles I reach the point of no return.  I turn around and head back for home.  That’s when I am converted from a cyclist into a meteorologist.

Weather personnel are cool, calm and collected about advancing weather fronts.  They have a steady matter-of-fact approach to looming storms.  After all, they are indoors.

This tranquil persona of a weather reporter might be enough to disqualify me from the profession.  After I made my 180 degree turn and was headed home all I could say was, “Yipes!”  The morning sky was no longer turning light and bright with the coming sunrise.

Thunder was rolling deeper and louder with each stroke of my pedals.  The wind was formerly carrying me along, so I didn’t notice it.  Lost in prayer while peddaling and only noticing the ensuing sunrise, I paid no attention to what was behind me.

I had four miles left to go.  There was no way that I was going to make it home before this storm hit.  Just as that prophetic thought materialized in my mind, huge drops of rain pelted my face. 

A torrent of rain gushed from the sky and I was enveloped in a wall of water.  There was one chance close by and I took it.  A school building with a covered entrance welcomed me under its protection.

I stood there dripping with rain.  Yet, God’s signature symbol of promise streaked across the blackened sky.  The sunrise painted a rainbow on the western sky. 

The gathering clouds moved quickly East and covered the sun in minutes.  But, before it was blocked out, its last rays pierced the sky as Jacob’s Ladder emerged in several directions for a spectacular view.  Even in the face of a powerful storm God’s divine fingerprint that “this too shall pass” was a stroke of beauty.

An old Chinese proverb says that a picture is worth a thousand words.  My recollection of the first time that I heard that adage is foggy.  But, I do recognize that I have heard it repeated many times in my lifetime.

It’s one of those sayings that fits with my psyche.  For a long time I have known that I am a visual person.  That is my style of learning, speaking and thinking.

The Chinese language in its written form is a system of pictures not an alphabet.  That makes for a complicated linguistic system that is not easily mastered. Yet, it gives its written language an embedded art form of calligraphy that is highly prized.

Culturally, the best educated have learned the discipline of calligraphy.  The product of putting ink on paper is an artform.  It is highly revered and beautifully symbolic as an expression of the culture.

The Chinese word used at the beginning of this blog means “Happiness.”  I remember a wonderful conversation about happiness.  Mutually, it was agreed that in our past we thought that happiness was superficial, emotional and temporary.  Yet, the more we talked the less we were convinced that we had it right.

There is something about this Chinese word that may help.  This word also means “Blessing.”  This single Chinese character is made up of four different words.  Together the four words make up a story that gives meaning to the term blessing.

On the left hand side there are five strokes of the brush.  You can see that they are connected together.  This is the word for God. 

Then on the right side of the word are three words stacked on top of each other.  The single stroke on the top is the word for “one.”  Below that is the rectangle that is the word for “breath.”  And finally the plus sign in the box is the word for “garden.”

In the Garden of Eden before there was sin, man enjoyed the best fellowship with God that was possible.  Nothing got in the way of their conversation or enjoyment of each other.  God’s Word or His breath in communicating was enjoyed by the first man and woman, it was the best possible kind of blessing that could be imagined. 

There’s a lot more to “Happiness” than meets the eye.  Brief immediate delight is wonderful.  But, so is the blessing of deep and meaningful communication with the Almighty GOd.

God has portrayed Himself to us in wonderful images.  He presents Himself to us as a rock, hen covering her chicks, hand,  truth, way, gate, Good Shepherd, light and of course life.  Among the many variations I think that representing Himself as our Heavenly Father is very special.

The image of a Father highlights remarkable and desirous qualities.  A good father is a provider and protector.  He will make sure that his children are fed well.  They will be clothed properly.  He makes sure that they will have adequate shelter.  No man can claim to be a good father unless he is a provider of these essentials.

Also a good father is a source of love and affection. His children learn that this strong provider and protector is also huggable and tender.  He does not exasperate his children for his own selfish amusement. 

Perhaps highest on the list is that a good father will love his wife, the children’s mother.  He is faithful.  Betrayal is beyond his great value of honor.  There is no sacrifice too great for him to preserve this relationship of trust.  His children will grow up marvelling at this quality of honor. 

This portrait of God as our Father is not easy for many.  The stories are far too frequent of adults whose lives have been marred by abusive, creepy and dishonorable men.  These dispicable cads caused these children to be birthed but they don’t deserve the special title of Father. 

I have run across such men.  They have betrayed a sacred trust and chosen the route of adultery with another woman.  Yet they have the audacity to claim that they are still good fathers.  That is fantasy.  They have permanently damaged their children with a legacy that cannot be erased.

I have met lazy men.  They are talkers and convince many people of their high aspirations.  Yet, the actual productivity of their lives is miniscule.  They don’t provide for their families.  When the shortcomings are noted, they are quick to find fault.  But, that fault always lies with others.

God presents Himself as Father not to associate with those who have failed at it.  Rather He presents himself as our Father to actualize all of our best ideals.  He will always provide and positively love us.  To all of the real honorable men who are doing this well, Happy Father’s Day!

There are some gadgets that are excellent conversation pieces.  Some gadgets are good for a laugh.  Then, others are just a humorous joke. 

Yet, every once in a while a gadget makes a memorable appearance.  It gets a laugh but then finds many fans.  I was introduced to one such gadget while in Korea. 

Once I checked into my hotel room, I unpacked.  Then, I walked over to check out the bathroom.  That’s when I saw the gadget for the first time.

It made me laugh.  Surely, I thought, this was some kind of prank.  Maybe someone with a camera was going to pop out of the closet once I tried to use it.

The gadget is an automatic body washer.  Yes, the toilet had its own electronic control panel next to the seat.  I stood there at the bathroom door and laughed.  I even looked around to see if anyone had placed this there as a tease.  I was alone.

Eventually, the time came to use this gadget.  Afterall, it was private, it was time and the need obviously presented itself.  So, I prepared myself and sat down.  Immediately, I was laughing out loud.

The seat was heated!  It felt so good.  Once I was over the initial shock of such a surprise I was immediately impressed with how comfortable it was.

It’s easy to relax when I have good reading material.  Give me an outdoor magazine, motorcycle accessory catalog or a book on mechanical advances and I’ll put fiber drinks out of business.  But, without any of that classic reading material at hand in a foreign country, I was wondering what this new gadget would do to produce the same smooth-flowing results.

I was not disappointed.  Comfort, heat and a gentle vibration massage were even more relaxing than my favorite reading materials.  The gadget had now captured my attention.

A side panel with all sorts of lighted buttons invited me to experiment.  I pressed all of them.  One button turned on a fountain of warm water that personally washed my body parts that just completed their divinely appointed tasks.  How did it know where to squirt?  It was definitely a bull’s eye!  Well, no eye, perhaps another part of the heifer’s anatomy.

Someone invented a winner.  It makes me smile just thinking about that experience.  Here back at the ranch, we have cold plastic seats that don’t do much of anything.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to enjoy the company of a celebrity whose counsel was sought by presidents?  What are people like who’s telephone number is called by those who hold the highest office of a country?  How would they treat a commoner who really has no means to advance their influence on this earth?

Those thoughts and more whispered in my mind when I walked to breakfast in Seoul, Korea.  Others peeled off story after story of this man that is affectionately known as the Billy Graham of South Korea.  I had no stories to tell, yet.

Billy Kim of South Korea has a high-level international influence.  His assistants appraised us that Dr. Kim was able to reschedule his visit with us after having seen two heads of state the day before.  He was guarding the next two days in order to enjoy the celebration of what was most important to him, the anniversary of a key component to the multi-national radio ministry that he leads.

Dr. Kim is first and foremost an evangelist.  He proclaims the good news of Jesus Christ to the world.  In particular Asia is his heart.  Over the years this now grandfather several times over has amassed friends in high places, in key countries and plays no favorites.

His warm and engaging smile was infe