Pastor Rob's Blog

Monday Confessions

2012-01-23T13:19:00.001-05:00

It’s Monday morning and these are a few of my confessions:

I confess that the jeans I wore at Sidedoor last night felt too short.
I confess that I don’t like it when my jeans feel too short.
I confess that these feelings probably stem from the days when my mom would buy me Sears and Roebuck Tough Skin Jeans two sizes too big (so I could grow into them); and since those jeans were made to withstand a nuclear blast, I would be expected to wear them until they were two sizes too small.
I confess that whenever I see short jean wearers I have flashbacks.
I confess this whole ordeal has probably scarred me for life.

I also confess that we don’t seem to make real confessions in church very often. Maybe it’s because people are afraid of what others might think. Or maybe it’s because of a misrepresentation of our holiness message. Or maybe it’s because of a sinful obsession with self.

I also also confess that we need to be more confessional. That is, we need to be more open and forgiving and prayerful and honest and loving and redemptive and holy than we sometimes are.

Boom. I’m done.

The Opulent Offspring

2012-01-19T11:48:00.000-05:00

The Opulent Offspring
Once a man had two offspring--the younger one demanded to obtain his share of the organization so the man obliged the obnoxious offspring by offering him half of his oasis.

The offspring immediately went to an obscure, out of the way place and ogled obscene objects and obsessively overspending on opulent and ornate outfits.

Almost overnight, the money was obliterated and the offspring had the onerous occupation of feeding oinkers and eating their oats.
Overwrought, one day, he observed his objectionable ordeal and thought, “My old man’s ordinary officials are better off than I am. I will go back to him with this oration, “Father I have been ornery to you. I am no longer allowed to be called your offspring make me like one of your ordinary office officials.”

So he got up and started off for his old-man’s orchard.

When he was on the outskirts of his father’s orchard—the old man saw him and was overjoyed. He ran to his offspring and overwhelmed him with affection!

The offspring said, “I have been ornery to you and am no longer worthy to be called your offspring.”

But the father said to his ordinary officials, “Quick bring an ornate overcoat and put it on him, and outfit him with a ring and sandals. Bring the oversized calf and kill it. Let’s organize an out-of-this-world occasion—for the offspring of mine was obituary material and is alive again. He ousted himself but is now on our orchard again!

Meanwhile, the older offspring was obediently in the field and overheard the orchestra’s overtures and the ovations. So he called one of the ordinary officials and asked him what the occasion was. The servant opined, “Your only brother has come and your old man has killed the oversized calf because he is on the grounds.”

The older brother was obnoxiously offended and odiously objected to going in. So his father went out and pleaded with the onerous older offspring. But he orally objurgated, “Look you old orangutan, all these years I’ve overworked for you, never disobeying your orders. You have never outpoured on me an outlandish odyssey so I could overwhelm my friends with overt opulence, but when this outlaw oaf offspring of yours who has outrageously, overindulged your oodles with obscene offerings comes home you organize an optimal occasion.

“My obedient but obstinate offspring,” the old-timer said, “you were never omitted, and my oodles are your oodles, but we had to organize this high octane, optimal occurrence and be outlandishly overjoyed, because this brother of yours was obituary material and is alive again; he ousted himself but is now on our orchard again!”

Prince Quotes of the Year (2011 Version)

2011-12-22T11:47:00.000-05:00

"Jordan and Israel” --Alex
To the Israeli Border guard when she asked what Arab countries Alex had visited. A little indignant, she informed Alex, “Israel is not an Arab country.” Alex replied, “Well, you’ve sure got a lot of Arabs living here.” In June, our family went on a mission and sightseeing trip to Jordan and the Holy Land with Central Church and friend, Rod Green. Our favorite places were: Petra (Ben), Caesarea (Alex), Garden of Gethsemane (Karla) and the Old City of Jerusalem (Rob).

“Hello, my name is Karla.” --Karla (of course!)
To Rasil, the child we sponsor through Nazarene Compassionate Ministries. We worked on various projects at Rasil’s school in Zarqa, Jordan. Back in the states, Karla is still servicing insurance policies for Financial Analysis, helping lead our Young Married Sunday School class, and living the dream with three fine Princes.

“I bet you are great at guessing your Christmas presents.” --Alex
To a Jewish airport security agent examining our luggage as we were leaving Israel. The friendly agent educated Alex that she neither receives nor opens Christmas presents. Cultural awareness classes might soon follow for our firstborn.

“It was my pleasure to serve you.” --Ben
To everyone ordering at Chick-fil-A. Ben has followed in Alex’s footsteps working at the restaurant in Olathe since August. An eleventh grader at Olathe South High School, Ben plays the guitar in the youth praise team, drives a “new” 1994 Teal Oldsmobile Cutlass and was one of the 6.5 million people that purchased Call of Duty 3 in the first 24 hours of its availability. We are so proud.

“Can I interest you in a Medicare Supplement?” --Alex
To customers at Select Quote Senior—a Medicare Supplement Insurance company where Alex worked as a summer intern. They asked him to continue working while at school and he is now a licensed agent. Alex is also a sophomore at MidAmerica Nazarene University majoring in business, still dating Blaire and this fall shot his first duck. Quack. Quack.

“We need to go to the hospital.” --Rob
To Karla at 2 AM upon the realization that he was graced with a kidney stone—two procedures later the rock was removed. In other health news: Thanks to quarterly Botox injections, Rob’s migraines have been held at bay, his forehead is more smooth than any drink from Smoothie King and life is good.

“I think God is calling me to a field.” --Ben
To a group of students from Central at the Nazarene Youth Conference in Louisville, Kentucky in July. Cory Stipp, our youth pastor, wasn’t sure if Ben was talking about a baseball field, a field of daisies, or the ministry—Ben clarified that he is sensing God’s call into ministry. (We would have been worried if he was talking about a field of daisies.)

“Four More Years!” --Central Church Board
To Rob and Karla following Rob’s six year pastoral review at Central. We have been blessed to pastor Central longer than other church. We are so thankful for the opportunity to see God working in many ways. Central is doing well and Rob has begun to plan a sabbatical for late summer 2012.

“Merry Christmas!” --Rob, Karla, Alex, Ben and Maggy (actually Maggy said, “Bark! Bark!”)
To all our friends and family—we hope you enjoy all of God’s blessings this Advent Season!

Not So Deep Theological Ponderings at Christmas

2011-12-15T09:10:00.002-05:00

My not so deep theological ponderings of the Christmas Season:

1. Can a five point Calvinist “re-gift” unwanted Christmas presents or is their motto “Once your gift... always your gift”?

2. If a person can quote the movie Elf more than Luke 2 does that disqualify him or her from next year’s cantata and thereby relegated to standing in a store loudly singing for all to hear: “I'm singing. I'm in a store and I'm siiiiiingiiiiing! I'm in a store and I'm siiiiiingiiiiing!”

3. If wax is spilled on the pew cushion during the Christmas Eve Candlelight service by a careless worshipper, will the church janitor request that Santa put the perpetrator on the “Naughty list”?

4. When looking at my rack of unworn (and never will wear) Christmas ties I am overcome with sadness for the wasted effort and energy meant to bring Christmas cheer by the thousands of silk and polyester worms—and I wonder if my congregants have had similar feelings after listening to some of my advent sermons?

5. If one has twelve Christmas trees in their house (and I do), can that house be declared a National Forest by the Department of Natural Resources?

6. Would “wee little man” Zaccheaus have been upset if someone mistook him for an elf?

7. Does the sending of a Christmas “card for a card” card negate any goodwill one might have accrued from the sending of a Christmas greeting card without having first received one?

8. Had Aaron given Moses a Garmin for Christmas would the children of Israel have gotten out of the wilderness sooner or would they have simply heard over and over “Recalculating. Recalculating. Recalculating.”?

9. Since Christmas falls on a Sunday this year, does one get double credit for attending a worship service on the 25th?

10. Will there be more new Tim Tebow football jerseys or Christmas sweaters worn to church on Christmas morning?

11. Do Pentecostal snowmen ever pray for fiery Holy Ghost revival?

12. Would Dancer and Prancer have been allowed to be Nazarenes?

In a much more serious tone, in your theological musing moments this Christmas season I hope you reflect on the glorious words of John 1, when the apostle wrote: The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14) Best. News. Ever! No joke!

Decorating for Christmas before Thanksgiving

2011-11-17T14:57:00.000-05:00

The in-laws are coming. The in-laws are coming. After surviving six Thanksgivings without family, Karla’s folks will experience a Kansas Thanksgiving.

Plaza lights, here we come!

Because we usually go to Michigan at Christmas, they have never experienced a Kansas Christmas either. So my bride decided that we need to have the house decorated for Christmas when they arrive.

I protested, “We can’t decorate for Christmas before we eat turkey and cranberries!”

She said, “Why do you think that way, my dear?” (What she really wanted to say was, “Quit your belly aching and go grab the nativity scene from the basement, you lazy goober!”)

I said, “It’s against the law.” (What I really wanted to say was, “It’s against the law!”)

Since I mostly lose such arguments, I refrained from making any additional comments and retrieved the new nativity scene that we purchased this summer in Nazareth, Israel. This year we will display nativity scenes from past mission trips to Israel, El Salvador, Swaziland and Hobby Lobby. (Technically, Hobby Lobby is not a mission field. But believe me, if you are of the male variety, one perusal of the plastic flowers, frilly home decor and crafts-a-plenty store will tell any manly man that he is in a strange and foreign land.) Be that as it may, I like our Hobby Lobby nativity. It’s big, nice and the baby Jesus figurine doesn’t look anything like an infant version of a Batman villain—like the one we bought in Nazareth.

I am no Buddy the Elf when it comes to Christmas decorating. My particular role in the home Christmas transformation is mostly relegated to retrieving items from the basement, staying out of Karla’s way, and putting the wreaths on the outside windows. (Some men are “lights on the house” guys, I am not. I am not opposed to “lights on the house” guys; I just choose not to be that guy. Although, for what it’s worth, I do think that a “lights on the house” guy has a moral obligation to become a “lights off the house” guy by Ground Hog Day. Forget Puxatawny Phil, the real reason we experience six more weeks of winter is because “lights on the house” guy is not fulfilling his civic duty to become “lights off the house” guy.)

Even without stringing thousands of lights on my house, there’s a lot of work to do before my in-laws arrive this Tuesday. It will take all the waking hours of this weekend to get the house ready. Well, all my waking hours when I’m not preaching three sermons, attending two weddings or watching the Nazarene Bowl football game at MNU—MNU is playing Southern Nazarene in the first round of the NAIA playoffs. Besides the aforementioned nativities, there will be trees, garland, candles, bulbs, wreaths and figurines of one Christmassy variety or another that will need to find their perfect six week resting spot. Could I order an extra batch of gingerbread cookies for strength, please?

Likewise, if our desire is to have a great Advent Season (Advent begins Sunday, November 27th by the way), there is much to do. What makes an Advent season great has very little to do with shopping, baking and decorating before Christmas. Instead, a great Advent season is completely determined by the preparation of our hearts. As such, let’s give ourselves the gift this Christmas season of renewing our spiritual commitment and resolving to follow Christ in a steadfast manner. In the next few weeks, take time to read the Christmas story—several times. Read it from Matthew and Luke. Read the first chapter or two from the Gospel According to John, too. If you are really adventurous, read some of the Old Testament prophesies regarding the coming Messiah. Read these passages while listening to some of the great carols of the season. Don’t let the only time you listen to Christmas music be in the veggy department of Wal-Mart. Then take time to tell your children and grandchildren why we celebrate and why this season is much more than parties and presents. Take time to reflect and be thankful for the unbelievable glorious truth that Emmanuel, God is with us.

Just as having the house ready for the in-laws takes time and preparation, having our inward house prepared and ready for Christmas takes intentionality and planning—and possibly eating a gingerbread cookie or two―but that’s another story for another day.

Keeping at it

2011-11-08T09:29:00.000-05:00

Permission to keep it real…. October was an extremely busy month. I am not sure if it is just that I am getting older (I know that’s true), but I think I am working harder and seeing less results than ever in my ministry. People are busier and less interested in Godly pursuits. This is not a complaint, just an observation. I am convinced that these are the most difficult days to pastor a church in the USA. I also believe every preacher in every generation has made such a statement. So what do we do? Keep at it. Never give up. Keep experimenting and trying. Making more and better disciples is too important to take a breather or complain or in some way stop pursing the hurting and broken people around us. Pray that we can create a culture— where there is a deep hungering for the Word of God and a deep desire to reach hurting, hungry and tired people.

A Day in the Life of a Pastor

2011-08-25T16:38:00.000-04:00

I am about to have a 24 hours that encapsulate why I love pastoring a great church like Central. Here's how my 24 hours from Saturday morning at 10AM until Sunday morning at 10AM will go...

Saturday 10 AM to Noon: MEMORIAL SERVICE for Charlie Yourdon. Charlie had been an important part of Central Church-- coming to Kansas City to work as an editor at the Nazarene Publishing House following 30 plus years of being a successful pastor. Charlie was successful, not because he pastored the largest church in the denomination, rather he was successful because he did things right. He loved God, loved his family and loved the people that God called him to shepherd. Charlie is rejoicing in heaven today—and what an honor it will be for me to be a part of his memorial service!

Saturday Noon to 1:15 PM: MEMORIAL SERVICE LUNCHEON. The luncheon provided for the family by the wonderful ladies of Central is always terrific! The ladies who work the kitchen, provide the meal, and clean up afterwards epitomize what it means to be servants of Christ. They always make me proud of the love and care that they display to grieving families.

Saturday 1:15 to 2:00 PM: RUSH HOME. I’ll check to see if there are any last minute duties that Karla has for me before the Amanda Fisk baby shower that will be at our house. She won't ask me to cook (and all the ladies said, “Hallelujah!”) or clean (the place will be spic and span before I get there), but she might have a last minute item that will need to be picked up from Price Chopper. I don’t know much about baby showers—but I know we want to keep all the ladies well fed and happy so they will have plenty of energy to “ooooooh” and “aaaaah” at all the cute bibs, outfits and other assorted gifts that Amanda will receive.

Saturday 2:00 to 3:30 PM: FISK BABY SHOWER. (Please notice the time change.) I will skeee-dad-dle as the ladies begin to arrive and commence to do whatever it is ladies do at baby showers (see above comments on “oooohing” and “aaaaahing”). I am glad that our ladies will celebrate with Pastor Forest and Amanda the soon-to-be coming of Baby Fisk.
Saturday 3:30 to 6 PM: HONEY DO DUTY. As the party/shower is winding down, I will return to the Prince Palace in order to help clean up from the party and get ready for our dinner guests that night. Whatever Sergeant Karla requests, she gets! (Tonight’s gathering will be the third event that she is hosting for the weekend—she’ll need any help I can offer.) You didn’t know it, but I married Super woman!

Saturday 5:58 PM: WHOOPIN’ CHECK. Get an update on my phone and see if my beloved, first place Tigers put “a whoopin’” on the Minnesota Twins.

Saturday 5:59 PM: BURGER BASH BROODING. This will be the first year I will miss the Burger Bash—I love seeing our students getting together and having fun all in the name of Jesus. We have a great youth group! I’ll miss eating a burger and seeing the students enjoying the fun games from the creative minds of Pastors Cory and Malorri.

Saturday 6 to 9ish PM: HOSTING A DINNER GATHERING. Sunday’s missionary speaker, Carla Sunberg and our missionary president and her husband, Stacey and Bob Lareau are coming to dinner. I wish everyone could come and sit around the table and hear the exciting reports of what God is doing around the world! (Oh wait…. you’ll hear about it on Sunday morning… you’ll love it!)

Saturday 9:01 PM: A SPORTS CENTER quick check to see if my beloved “This is Our Year” Detroit Lions beat the “only-thing-good-about-them-is-Tom-Brady” New England Patriots in the pre-season football game.

Saturday 9:02 PM to 10 PM: CLEAN UP from the dinner and the day. Dishes are my specialty—I can fill a dishwasher faster than Dale Earnhardt Jr’s NASCAR crew can change a tire. Record time baby!

Saturday-Sunday 10 PM to 5 AM: NIGHT. NIGHT. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite, bite, bite.

Sunday 5 to 5:45 AM: UP AND AT 'EM. Get up, Clean up and Gear UP for a great day!

Sunday 5:45 to 6AM: DONUT SHOP. I have gone to a donut shop on my way to church nearly every Sunday that I have been a pastor. I know, doctor, it doesn’t fit with my diet. I know, Karla, it doesn’t fit my waist line. But I am not sure I would be fit to preach without a tasty chocolate glazed donut in my tummy. (Who said, “You’re not preaching today so you don’t need a donut!”? I say, “Who asked you?”)

Sunday 6 to 7:30 AM: GETTING READY FOR THE DAY. This includes prayer, quiet devotion time and―since I am not preaching—I won’t be doing any final tweaking of my sermon, but I am teaching, so I will look over my lesson.

Sunday 7:30 to 7:45 AM: STAFF MEETING. All the pastors get together for prayer and a game plan for the day. Have I told you what a privilege it is to work with the best pastoral staff anywhere?! I’d stack our pastors up against any church, any denomination, anywhere! We have a great team!

Sunday 7:45 to 8:25 AM: WAITING for folks to arrive. I’ll station myself out by the parking lot to say, “Welcome!” I love greeting folks as they gather to worship. I want everyone to know how happy I am that they have decided to worship the Lord at Central and how ready I am to praise the Lord! And I love it when new visitors think I am the parking lot valet!

Sunday 8:25 to 8:30 AM. PRAYING. Did you know every Sunday morning I meet with a group of people who will be praying for you and the needs of the church during the 8:30 service? The Pastor’s Prayer Team is the power behind the pulpit!

Sunday 8:30 to 9:45 AM. WORSHIPPING, praising the Lord, and listening to Rev. Carla Sunberg tell how God’s mission can be our mission! Sunday morning will be the best hour and fifteen minutes of your week! You are going to love hearing from Carla! (Karla with a “K” only preaches at me; Carla with a “C” preaches all over the world and is one of the best preachers I know!)

Sunday 9:45 to 10 AM: NEWLYWED CLASS, HERE I COME. I love being with our newlywed Sunday School class—they are a great group and I get to teach this week!

Whew... that’s my ministry packed 24 hours… and the next few hours that follow will include one more morning worship service, two services in the evening, lunch, and maybe just maybe a Nazarene Nap stuck in there somewhere.

In a 24 hour period, I will mourn with those that mourn; rejoice with those that rejoice, and worship our awesome God! In those 24 hours, I will I get to see love in action as meals are prepared and served; and I get to hear how love can be taken to an even greater level through our Global Outreach Day. In 24 hours, I will preach and teach and sing and laugh and cry and eat and sleep and enjoy every bit of the life to which God has called me. I’m going to love those 24 hours!

10 Things I think I think (August 2011 edition)

2011-08-18T12:33:00.003-04:00

It's been a while since I've given Ten Things that I think I think....So here goes.

1. I think that the summer has gone by entirely too fast. Is Ben really in school or is he sneaking out of the house, carrying a back pack, and doing homework at night all in an effort to pull a fast one on Karla and me? (A. He’s not that sneaky and B. He wouldn't get up before 7 AM for anything... School must be in session.)

2. I think that Darren Worcester who provided the "sciencey" props for the God’s Mythbusters series must be a terrific teacher. He is so passionate about his work and students at Olathe Northwest. I'm praying for Darren and all our teachers and students. And by the way, if one week is any indicator, God's Mythbusters is going to be a terrific series-- this week we are tackling: Faith Can Fix Anything.

3. I think Summit Marketing is awesome! The creative minds of Summit are providing our sermon logos (free of charge!!!!).

4. I think the Detroit Lions will be a better football team than the Kansas City Chiefs this year. OK Chiefs fans-- we will know for sure who is better on September 18 when the two teams play. On September 19 somebody will be doing some talking-- will they be wearing red and yellow or Honolulu blue and silver? (Of course, in the pre-season for the last 47 years I've said about the Lions: "This will be our year." I'm still waiting).

5. I think our Missions Speaker for our Faith Promise Sunday is one of the best missionaries and speakers around-- Rev. Carla Sunberg will be with us in a couple of weeks!

6. I think our Labor Day Sunday-- (one combined service at 10 AM and dinner on the grounds following) is one of my favorite Sundays. Praising Jesus and eating chicken... what a great combo!

7. I think the server at Panera is nice; she just gave me a free coffee! I still meet with some fellas at 6 AM on Tuesdays. Any early rising guys are welcome to join us-- I can't promise you a free cup of coffee, but I will promise good conversation and prayer! (We meet at the Panera at 87th and Lackman).

8. I think we have had 8 families move away from the area in the last several weeks (going everywhere from South Africa to Tennessee to Oregon and all places in between)-- not to mention a great freshman class of college students who are heading to pursue their dreams all across the country. I miss everyone already!

9. I think there are few men as godly as Charlie Yourdon. Charlie is struggling with a lung disease that has moved upon him very quickly-- yet Charlie is ever confident of God’s blessings on his life. Keep Charlie and Sharon and their family in your prayers!

10. I think whenever I am tempted to complain about the broken A/C in Karla's car, (proving that I can occasionally be a good husband-- Karla and I have temporally switched cars until the A/C is fixed)-- I remember all the blessings driving in a non-A/C car can bring. What blessings could there possibly be in driving around in a hot car in the middle of summer? Well, try these on for size:
A) Spitting seeds doesn't require a cup for the husks-- the windows are open, I can spit at will;
B) The wind whipping through the car messes up my hair-- some of my folically challenged brethren can only dream of those days; and
C) When it seems a bit warm, I am able to reflect on the fact that our troops are in even warmer conditions and more dangerous places. Moreover, there are only about 2 billion people in the world who would gladly change places with me.

In other words, driving around in my wife’s non A/C car reminds me that I have much to be thankful for—God’s love, family, health, America, and pastoring a great church like Central!

God Heals

2011-08-18T12:20:00.002-04:00

Have you heard the old joke about the Pentecostal televangelist that taught his dog to speak? He called out “Speak, Fido! Speak!” And the dog immediately jumped to attention and barked, “Meow!”

If you didn’t like that one, you’ll probably hate this one. That same televangelist taught his dog to heel. He’d yell, “Heel, Fido! Heel!” and the dog would jump up on his hind legs, howl a couple of howls, and bop its paw on a stranger’s forehead.” (Grammatically, I should have written “Heal, Fido!” but that would have ruined the joke.) OK, the joke was already ruined….those were both dumb. As you can obviously tell, my calling is not stand up comedy.

Phony televangelists and their dogs notwithstanding, the reality of healing is no joke. God still heals!

I’ve prayed for hundreds, if not thousands, of sick folks down through the years. You name the ailment, virus, or disease—and I’ve probably prayed for God to heal the afflicted.
I’ve prayed that God would knock the snot out of head colds.
And swat swine flu bugs back to the pigs of Timbuktu.
I’ve asked God to change mean, nasty, ugly cancer cells into happy, healthy, pretty cells.
I’ve prayed that hurting and broken bones would mend together.
I’ve anointed so many people with oil; I ought to have stock in Crisco.
I‘ve called upon God to relieve the distressed before surgery, during surgery, after surgery and that He would miraculously make it so no surgery was needed.
I’ve requested of God to use medicines, doctors, nurses, technicians and any other medical equipment or hospital personnel that might wander in the operating room during a procedure.

I guess I won’t know until heaven (and then I probably won’t care) just how many hospital rooms, emergency waiting areas, doctor’s offices and homes I’ve been in to pray with sick folks.

Point of all of this: I am convinced that God still heals. I don’t think for one second that all those prayers uttered were a waste of time. Oh, I might not believe in healing the way some white-suited televangelists do―who at times appear more intent on emptying out people’s wallets than emptying out hospital corridors. Still I believe that God heals. I believe that just as Blind Bart (who was blind as a bat before he met Jesus, and then could see a gnat on a mongoose’s nose after he met Jesus) was healed―people can be healed from what ails them today.

God heals those afflicted physically, emotionally, spiritually and every other way. Our God is a mighty healer.

James was not just exercising wishful thinking when he wrote: Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. (James 5:14-15) That passage is true and I have quoted it in sermons and to sick folks probably as much as any verse in the Bible.

Hence I think old FB Meyer was on to something when he wrote: “The real tragedy of prayer is not unanswered prayer—but unoffered prayers.” Our issue is not that God doesn’t answer—too often our issue is that we don’t pray. A POINT OF CLARIFICATION: I am not suggesting that if we pray hard enough or long enough or utter some magical word that God is compelled to heal us. I have no clue as to why some sick and needy are healed and why some sick and needy are not. Those decisions are above my pay grade. (I tell folks I’m in “sales” not “management” when it comes to the question of answered prayers.) Nor do I pretend to have the nature of intercessory prayer completely figured out. I’ve been praying for years—and I still don’t know the exact nature of it all.

But this is what I know: God’s Word tells us to pray for the sick and needy. And when we do, we are to trust that God Almighty knows exactly what we need when we need it! As such there are times when we are not healed in the manner we would prefer (but faith is still saying, “I am trusting God!”); and then there are other times― like the lady who had a bleeding disorder for 12 years in Mark 5 discovered― when God says, “Enough is enough. You’ve been sick long enough. No need for fancy words. No need for anything other than actions.” And it’s BOOM! HEALED! “Go in peace!”

God still does the miraculous!

So if something ails you today… pray on! Do you need a miracle today? Pray on! Today might be your day of healing. Today could be the day when God says about your issue, “Enough is enough.” Boom! Healed! “Go in peace!”

Why We Do What We Do at Central

2011-08-18T12:17:00.002-04:00

Why do we do the things that we do at Central? Good question.

Here's why we have Vacation Bible School: A lady who attends Central invited her co-worker's children to VBS. They accepted the offer and loved every second of it. One of the children, a fourth grade girl, was overwhelmed by the love and kindness shown to her. She kept asking her teachers why everyone was so nice. She asked lots of questions about God, too. And sometime during the week, she invited Jesus into her heart. Last Sunday, her family came to Central. They almost didn't come-- it had been a crazy morning (ever have one of those kind of Sunday mornings?). But they came anyway. During the morning service, we talked about baptism and I asked if anyone would like to be baptized. This fourth grade, first time-in-our-church-that-wasn't-a-VBS-program girl told her mom that she wanted to be baptized. She knew that Jesus was in her heart and she wanted the world to know! Way to go, VBS!!

Here's why we have young adult ministries: A young lady had been coming to our Narrow Gate young adult gatherings. The Narrow Gate group gets together a lot― for fellowship and Bible Studies and just hanging out time. They are a great group. The young lady was an army reservist, and she invited an army buddy to join her. This young man, from Tacoma, Washington joined them. Soon afterwards, they both were deployed to Afghanistan. Our group has been praying for both of them and sending notes of encouragement. Last week, Alex Bennett―the young man who came with his friend―was one of the 31 U.S. soldiers on the Chinook helicopter that was shot down on a mission searching for the enemy. We won't know the impact of our ministry on this young man's life, but I am so thankful for their outreach. (Keep Alex's family and all the families of our service men and women in your prayers.)

Here's why we do mission trips: While in Jordan, one of our team members noticed a boy who had some serious physical problems. The boy needed immediate medical attention. They insisted on taking him to the doctor, which happened. After we returned to the U.S., we discovered that the boy needed further treatment which would cost several hundred dollars. Of course, there is no health insurance in Jordan and the family could not afford the medical expenses. So, this family from Central―which had already “done their duty” and spent a lot of money to make a difference in Jordan―sent over the additional money to our missionary to help cover the expenses so that this boy could be healthy and well. They were a blessing while in Jordan and continue to be a blessing from here!

That’s just three examples of why we do what we do at Central. The ministries and people of Central are making a difference—it’s what we do!

Don't Sweat It

2011-08-18T12:16:00.000-04:00

Maybe you heard, on Tuesday it was a tad warm in these parts. Some areas of Kansas City hit 111 degrees. When the temperature is higher than my last golf score-- I know we are in trouble. Rob Bell disagrees, but I think the temperature was only a few degrees cooler than H-E- double hockey sticks. I take back all the snide comments I made last January about internet inventor and former Vice President, Al Gore's global warming theories. All this to say-- it was HOT!

Also on Tuesday, in the midst of our eleven hour return trip from the Holy Land (a.k.a. Michigan), the A/C in Karla’s car stopped working. So, for the last leg of our journey, we went "old school”―windows down, wind blowing, sweat dripping, shouting when we spoke so that the others could hear―it was awesome.

The A/C failure was only the latest in a line of calamities in what has become known around our house as the “Summer of the Broken Stuff”. So far, our house was hammered by hail; our refrigerator went kapooey; my car had a fender bender; the pool pump pooped out; a crown crumbled (unlike Jack while fetching a pail of water, I did not fall down, but I broke a crown); even my watch stopped (it's not a stop watch-- it's just a watch that stopped).

Don't feel too sorry for us-- all of the aforementioned breakage is the nature of stuff. I believe "Stuff" stands for: Stupid Things Ultimately Fail Forever. In other words, stuff breaks. Things quit. Our junk becomes junk after a while.

Jesus reminded us: “Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be." (Matthew 6:19-21 NLT)

He was meaning, "the most important things in life aren't things at all”.

Too often we get that mixed up and we think things do matter. We strive for things, want more stuff, and do everything possible to acquire junk that will one day break or lose its luster or become outdated.

Jesus went on to say that He knows about the tiniest sparrow and takes care of the lilies of the field-- so don't worry. He knows about you and your needs. The lesson is true on hot days or cold ones. Things are just that-- things. People and relationships and, most importantly, God are what matter in life. Bottom line: God knows you. God loves you. God will take care of you.

Translated to my situation: When your A/C breaks on the hottest day of the year, don't sweat it. Jesus is in control!

Nebraska Furniture Mart, Job and Me

2011-06-03T18:55:00.002-04:00

I’ve been to Nebraska Furniture Mart so many times in the last week I think I could have driven to Nebraska.
Twice.
From Montana.

I received an innocent telephone call from my bride last week telling me that she thought our refrigerator was not working properly. She came to this epiphany upon removing a carton of ice cream from the freezer and noticing it to have the same consistency as pea soup.
“Strange,” thought my very perceptive connoisseur of fine ice cream.
And when she grabbed the milk from the other side of the dying side by side, she noticed it to be only slightly cooler than day old molten lava.
“How peculiar!” was her “church newsletter” reaction. (In the spirit of fair and balanced reporting, I wasn’t there at that precise second, so I cannot accurately write what her actual words were. I surmise that she said “How peculiar,” she may have used other words in the heat of the moment.)

Our refrigerator was built during the Bush administration. The first Bush administration. George H.W. Bush. It was time. Apparently things don’t last forever.

So we headed to Nebraska Furniture Mart—whereupon I discovered a store flowing with refrigerators and happy salesmen.

I know how to pick out a car—you kick the tires.
I know how to pick a tomato—if it’s red, grab it.
But how do you pick the perfect refrigerator? There are no tires to kick. There weren’t any red ones.

Back when I was a kid, you could get a refrigerator in any color you wanted—as long as that color was white. But today they sell refrigerators in more colors than even Crayola has -- white, black, stainless steel, silver mist, bisque. Bisque is a color? What’s bisque? There are side by side refrigerators, top freezers, bottom freezers, and freezerless refrigerators. There are French door refrigerators. The French not only have their own fries and kisses, now they have their own refrigerator doors? There are refrigerators that make ice in the doors. Cubed ice. Crushed ice. Some refrigerators have bells and whistles that inform one that they inadvertently left the French doors open. (I told Karla that my checkbook has an alarm that would go off too—if I wrote a check for that particular model. I don’t think she bought it, but we didn’t buy that outrageously priced Lexus of the refrigerator world).

I discovered the good folks at Nebraska Furniture Mart aren’t giving those dispensers of coolness away. So we shopped and we talked and we prayed (we really did). We slept on it (not literally sleeping on the refrigerator―that would be weird). We went to a few other stores and then back to Nebraska Furniture Mart and then back again. We went back so many times; you’d have thought gas prices were under $3.75 a gallon like the good old days.

Finally, we decided on a refrigerator that we hope to have for many years to come--one that will keep our precious ice cream hard as granite and our milk cold as snow.

So why tell you about our refrigerator shopping experience?

Some people look at God like we were looking at refrigerators:
If God can dispense timely good things like crushed ice, we’ll take Him.
If God can fit into our space and go with our décor, we’ll take Him.
If God can quench our thirst from time to time, we’ll take Him.
But don’t over step your bounds, God.
Don’t be more than a convenience to my mostly organized life.
Just be there when I need you, but when I don’t need you, don’t bother me (no offense).
And above all else… don’t cost too much, God.
I think God demands a little more than that. He is not Maytag Almighty—but God Almighty.

God was taking issue when Job was getting a little demanding with Him. And finally God said to Job in chapters 38-41 basically this (which could have been a Motown song, well actually it is a Motown song): Who do you think you are, Mr. Big Stuff?

After reading those chapters, you’ll come to this conclusion (which Job came to): God is God, and you are not God. Trust Him with the big stuff. Trust Him in the small stuff. And life (even life with its broken refrigerators and everything else) will be much better when you simply trust that He is at work in the midst of all things. It’s becoming like Paul who said in Philippians 4:13 (The Message): I've learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I'm just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I've found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.

Refuse

2011-05-05T10:49:00.002-04:00

Refuse: Re-fuse. verb. 1.) Indicate unwillingness. To declare a decision or intention not to do something.

Here are a few things I refused to do this week.

I refused to watch even one second of the royal wedding. I know I have English blood flowing through my veins. I know my last name is Prince. Still I wasn’t too interested in the happenings at Buckingham Palace at 3 a.m. Central time last Friday morning. At that time of the day, the only thing I was interested in doing royally was sleeping.

I refused to say yesterday, “May the Fourth be with you”. I like Star Wars. But I never wanted to grow up and be a Jedi Knight or Yoda or Obi Wan Kenobi. Besides, I think I misplaced my light saber.

I refused to complain about the rising gas prices. I get it that gas prices are high. Really high. I also get it that most of the people in our world don’t own a car, and hence, most folks have no need to complain about rising gasoline prices. My family is so widely blessed we have three cars sitting in our driveway (and probably will have four cars after this summer if Ben gets his way). The way I see it, I am blessed beyond measure living in this wonderful country—so why should I complain?

I refused to celebrate the death of the Osama Bin Laden. I celebrated that he was brought to justice. I celebrated that he can no longer be a dangerous threat. I celebrated that our soldiers acted with precision. But I will not celebrate in death. It is a somber reminder that we live in a fallen world that desperately needs the peace of God to reign.

I refused to grumble that Alex will have less scholarship money than last year. He received a great education this year at MidAmerica Nazarene University. It’s a terrific school and he had a great year. I’m proud of him. If MNU has to make a few cuts in scholarships to be more fiscally sound—I’m willing to do my part.

I refused to join the chorus of naysayers that think God is done in America. We serve an awesome God and if He can bring revival to a city like Nineveh that was on the brink of total annihilation―and He did (read Jonah), then I think there is hope for America! Let’s pray, believe, tell and hope that God is doing some great things! Today is the National Day of Prayer. Find a place to pray (I’m going to the Johnson County Courthouse at noon in Olathe) – and pray for our country and for our world! God’s not done yet!

Kate and Karla Each Married a Prince

2011-04-29T15:58:00.003-04:00

Shockingly, I have noticed a few differences between Kate and Karla's wedding to their respective princes.

When Kate marries her Prince on Friday-- most of England will be watching.
When Karla married her Prince many, many Fridays ago-- not a single person in jolly old England noticed (not even a few of my distant relatives who live there!).

When Kate marries her Prince-- the paparazzi will be snapping pictures of their every move.
When Karla married her Prince-- a guy with a camera showed up and we have a few photos from the occasion... somewhere.

When Kate marries her Prince-- her dress will be scrutinized by fashion critics far and wide.
When Karla married her Prince-- her dress came "off the rack" from JC Penney. (Incidentally, she also purchased her Prince's wedding ring at JC Penney. Good thing JC Penney didn't sell cakes, aisle runners or invitations or we might have had pink clearance JCP price tags on every item at our wedding.)

When Kate marries her Prince-- the Royal couple will say their vows in historic Westminster Abbey.
When Karla married her Prince-- we said our vows in Westland, Michigan. (In case you're wondering... except for the fish and chips sold at the local Long John Silver's, there aren’t too many similarities between Westminster and Westland.)

When Kate marries her Prince-- there will be a royal reception prepared by the finest chefs of Europe at Buckingham Palace.
When Karla married her Prince-- there were a few ham rolls, radishes, celery sticks and a bag of potato chips that Karla and a few friends prepared the day before the wedding for the reception in the fellowship hall of the church.

When Kate marries her Prince-- they will be serenaded by choirs and orchestras.
When Karla married her Prince-- we had a guy with a plug-in Casio keyboard in the fellowship hall playing the best of the Bee Gees.

When Kate marries her Prince-- they will begin their marital bliss in the lap of luxury.
When Karla married her Prince-- we lived in government subsidized housing as I finished seminary and worked as a part time youth pastor.

When Kate marries her Prince-- there will be pomp and circumstance and a high degree of regality.
When Karla married her Prince-- there was little pomp, some goofy circumstances and very little regality... but God has blessed this union in greater ways than I could have ever dreamed!

So when Kate marries her Prince-- everyone will hope it will be a fairy tale type marriage.
But when Karla married her Prince-- it was for better or for worse (there's been both times in the last 23 years), for richer or for poorer (yup, we've had some of the latter and are still waiting for the former), in sickness and in health (we're hoping for a healthier year), and 'til death we do part... but through it all, I can say, like the best of fairy tales it has been "happily ever after”.

I'm so glad Karla found her Prince.

I liked everything about Easter... but the shopping

2011-04-21T13:48:00.001-04:00

As a boy, I liked many things about Easter.
I liked Easter baskets.
I liked Easter candy. (Except Peeps. I hated Peeps. Still do.)
I liked Easter dinner.
I liked Easter ham. (My mom always made ham on Easter. Turkey was Thanksgiving’s entree. Christmas was always a tossup—some years ham, some years turkey.)
I liked Easter eggs.
I liked Easter egg hunts.
I liked Easter songs. (Karla still thinks if you don’t sing “Up from the Grave He Arose”, then it - and I quote - “ain’t Easter”.)
I liked Easter sunrise services.
I liked Easter lilies.
I liked the Easter movies on TV.

There was always a lot to like about Easter.
But I hated… make that I HATED Easter clothes shopping.

A week or so before Easter, we would head to “Sears and Roebuck”, “Monkey Wards” or “Robert Hall’s”. (Does anyone remember Robert Hall’s? Did you have Robert Hall’s in Kansas City?) I would try on all sorts of suits and pants that were always a tad big. They had to be big enough for me to grow into, but not so big that I looked like the kid in the movie BIG wearing Tom Hanks’ clothes. Most generally I wanted my folks to purchase me a very cool polyester leisure suit with wide bell bottom pants (think: Motown’s Temptations circa 1970). I think my mom had something like the cartoon character Richie Rich’s attire in mind. (That is, short pants, matching jacket and a bow tie. In other words, an outfit that shouts to the bullies of the world “Hit me!”). As you might imagine, without the aid of a federal mediator, there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth during the negotiating process in the boys clothing department as we tried to come to an agreement. Of course, my mom had the wallet and she had the direct line to the Easter bunny and his knowledge of hiding Easter baskets (for well behaving boys in department stores clothing areas). She had all the eggs in her basket (so to speak); so I usually left looking like a poor man’s Richie Rich--only in one size too big.

When Easter arrived the next week, all of those Easter shopping horrors were behind me, and my brother and I would wear our slightly oversized suits and ties; my sisters would wear dresses, hats and white frilly gloves (no one wears hats and white frilly gloves anymore, but my sisters did back then). Then on Easter morning, we’d stand in front of the church sign and get our picture taken―proving for all eternity that, for one day at least, we were clean, dressed nice and looked like we enjoyed wearing polyester. It was easy to smile wearing a Richie Rich outfit knowing that your pockets were full of jelly beans and a tasty ham dinner was in the oven.

Your family traditions may differ from mine in the early 1970’s. Still I hope that you include a time for praise and worship this coming Easter (preferably at Central Church, of course!). Everyone you know needs to be celebrating the resurrection this Sunday. Bring a friend with you! It’s not too late to invite a neighbor or a family member—do it today!!!

Jesus really doesn’t care what you wear, what you eat, whether you are a jelly bean or a Peep kind of person, or what flowers adorn your house this Easter—but He does care that you can rejoice that He is Alive! I hope to see you this week! It’s going to be an AWESOME Sunday! We have some great things planned! We will have three services: 8:30 and 11:00 a.m. (with an all church reception in between the services) and then our new Sidedoor Service will celebrate Easter at 5:30 p.m.

They're "Accidents" not "Planned Fors"

2011-04-14T15:31:00.002-04:00

People come into our lives.
Sometimes unexpected,
Out of nowhere.
Take yesterday for example.
I was coming back to the church from a hospital, minding my own business listening to sports radio. I probably should have been listening to praise music or praying or doing something far more holy than listening to the latest Barry Bonds saga, because while waiting for the red light to turn green… BAM! A fine lady from Lenexa smacked into Betty (the name I’ve given my 2002 Chevy Impala).

I think she thought I was going to turn right on red.
Or maybe she just didn’t see me.
Or maybe she was listening to sports radio instead of praise music, too.

That’s why they call them accidents. Nobody plans them. If they did—we’d call them “Planned Fors” instead of “Accidents”. But that would sound weird: “I was involved in a “Planned For” this afternoon. Yeah, I planned for a whole lot of inconvenience and headaches with my insurance company and a stranger’s insurance company. It ought to be fun!” See what I mean? That sounds weird. We don’t plan for it. They are accidents.

People—not just cars―get bent out of shape over accidents.
That’s too bad.

Cars can be repaired. Well sometimes. And even when they can’t be, they are just cars. Even though I’ve named mine “Black Betty”, and we’ve been together ten years, and I like her—quirks and all (she has a lot of quirks: the windshield wipers stop in the wrong position because the motor was put on backwards; the yellow check engine light has been on for nearly four years; the red air bag light is also on; there’s a missing heater knob; stains are on the seats; there is green paint on the side where I got a little too close to the garage once or twice… well, you get the idea…)―it’s just a car.

But people, on the other hand… People matter. People really matter. And it’s too bad when they get bent out of shape, because they aren’t as easily fixed. A week in the body shop might do the trick for a fender bender on your car, but it might take a little longer with a sore personality or a hurt relationship.

I’ve been thinking and praying for the nice lady that ran into me. I hope she isn’t losing any sleep over the bump in my car. I hope she knows that cars are just cars and it’s people that matter

Breaking Up with my Kidney Stone

2011-03-25T10:04:00.001-04:00

Neil Sedaka once sang, "Breaking up is hard to do" and apparently Neil could not only play a mean piano but his lyrics were 100% spot on. My kidney stone has proven him true. A month ago I had a lithotripsy procedure which was supposed to smash my kidney stone into smithereens, but it was unsuccessful. Breaking up is hard to do. (By the way, when I purchase a thing-a-ma-jig at Wal-Mart and it doesn't work, I take it back and my money is promptly returned. No questions asked. It is safe to say, the same rules don’t apply in the medical world. I’m not holding my breath for the hospital to hand back to me or my insurance company the 10,000 smackeroos from the first useless go-around any time soon, but I digress…) The breakup didn't work, that's my point.

So today, as you are at home sipping your afternoon tea or napping in geometry class or watching a soap opera or doing whatever it is you do on a springtime Thursday afternoon-- I will have returned to the no-money back guarantee hospital (aka the torture chamber) so that my friend "Rocky" might officially receive his eviction notice. Like something out of a sci-fi movie, my urologist will break out a laser gun and blast the little guy. The doctor assures me that "Kid Rock” will be vaporized and the whole ordeal will take less than an hour. He calls it a “minimally invasive procedure”. I think whenever a laser is used on your body―and they have to knock you out before using the laser gun or light saber or whatever it is on your body—then, my friend, that is a Maximum Invasive Procedure. My wife says I’m being “overly dramatic about the whole thing”. To which I said to her, “Shhh… I’m working on mine and “Stoney’s” acceptance speech for our academy award.”

Here’s what I know: Like my mom’s driving technique on a highway—even when travelling behind someone who is driving slower than a snail; and like Woody Hayes’ Ohio State’s “three yards and a cloud of dust” offense; and like a ball-hogging basketball player-- my kidney stone has refused to pass. Apparently singing the old teen camp song, “I shall not be… I shall not be moved…” my kidney stone is stuck somewhere between the place of pain and the place of freedom. After being stuck in this no passing zone for about four weeks now, the doc says, “Today is the day, Buster! The eviction notice has been served!”

So what are the spiritual implications to my dilemma? I know a lot of people that are just like my kidney stone (and I don’t mean they are a “pain in my back”). I mean, they are stuck in a place and for whatever reason have refused to move. They are just there. Not doing anything. Not going anywhere. Stuck.

Hebrews 6:1 says: “Therefore let us move beyond the elementary teachings about Christ and be taken forward to maturity…” Refuse to be content with where you are in your Christian walk. In other words… press on! Dive into God’s word. Move on to maturity. Don’t stay in the same place. Hunger and thirst for righteousness. Reject the easy path of laziness or indifference. Like I’ve been telling my kidney stone for the last four weeks “Get moving!”

Too bad it wasn't yesterday

2011-02-17T15:20:00.000-05:00

The weather man says today the temperature will hit a balmy 71 degrees. Too bad it wasn’t yesterday.

I imagine by the end of today what’s left of our snow piles will be gone. Too bad it wasn’t yesterday.

Probably all vestiges of “Blizzard 2011” from a couple of weeks ago will be a memory. Too bad it wasn’t yesterday.

Why all of this “too bad all of this wasn’t yesterday” talk?

Well, yesterday morning when taking out my trash and collecting my mail, I noticed that one patch of ice remained at the end of my driveway. One last, grey, melting stretch of winter was lying there. Lying there in wait to slip up one last victim, it turns out. The ice patch (as if it had a sick and crazed mind of its own) was holding out for one more dupe.

It found one.

I clearly noticed the icy place. I even thought to myself, “Remember Rob, you’re wearing your slippery black shoes. Be careful of the ice.” Still, I wanted to get the mail and to do so would mean stepping on the icy area. I carefully maneuvered around the ice to get to the mailbox. I tippy-toed on all the places that looked dry and ice free. I grabbed the mail and noticed that Ben had a birthday card from a nice lady in the church; I think there was a bill in there from a doctor’s office and some advertisements from the grocery stores. “Oh, Price Chopper has some good deals this week!”

For a brief moment, I forgot about the remaining, evil ice patch.

That’s all it took.

My slippery black shoes hit the ice and like a boy in the love for the first time I was “head over heels”.

I fell.

Hard.

Ouch!

Today I have a sore hip to prove that this winter was an icy, yucky season of coldness. I wish trash days were Thursday instead of Wednesday because this morning the ice is gone. But they are not. Trash day is Wednesday, and on Wednesday there was ice. And I fell. Did I already write the word “Ouch”?

Isn’t that the way of temptation and sin? We might know that there are trouble spots ahead; we might even try to maneuver around them; and we might even be successful for a while. But when we get distracted, or forget, or simply stop trying and stop looking to Christ for our help—that’s when we slip up in life. And that’s when we fall. Then afterwards, we wish we hadn’t fallen. But we did. We have the bruises that verify our actions.

Paul offers this warning to us in 1 Corinthians: “So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall! No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.” (1 Corinthians 10:12-13)

I know a lot of folks who look back on their yesterdays and wish they hadn’t happened. They remember slipping and falling on things a lot more serious than a patch of ice. The ensuing pain and agony was much deeper for them and their family than my little bruise.

So be careful. Oh―not be careful of the ice―it’s gone. Be careful of the snares the Enemy has placed in front of you to trip you up. Be careful of those places where you know you are weak. But most of all, keep your eyes on Christ. Don’t get distracted. He can help you to withstand any temptation and keep you standing firm!

My Prayer Request

2011-02-17T15:19:00.000-05:00

I was asked this week to give some people a list of my prayer requests. This was my response to the request.

I was humbled to learn that some folks in the congregation want to pray and fast for me for the next 40 days.
I am thankful for this sacrifice of their time and their willingness to go before our Heavenly Father on my behalf.

I was also asked to make a list of some of my prayer requests…and I thought I could jot down a few items on the sheet of paper and send them along. My medical chart seems to be growing by the week―that alone could keep these good folks praying for 40 days. I have two teenage sons (another 40 days); a wife tired of the health concerns of her husband (40 more); etc….
But are those my most pressing needs?

The more time I thought about this― (Wasn’t this supposed to be a few scribbles on a note pad? It is quickly beginning to rival War and Peace.)―the more I realized that my most pressing need is not my health or even my family. Not even close.

If I am going to continue to lead a great church like Central, if I want to be the best husband and dad that I can possibly be for Karla and the boys, then here is my request:

I want to be closer to God. I want to hunger and thirst for Him. I want to crave the word of God. I want to covet spending time with Him. I want to see things as God sees them. I want to have my heart break when I see someone hurting or broken or troubled. I want to have a deeper passion for the lost. I want to better notice the lonely. I want to see the disabled through new eyes. I want to have the same urgency to pray for the confused teenager as I seem to have to pray for an oversized kidney stone.

So that’s my list…
Yes, I have health issues.
Yes, I want my marriage to be a God- honoring and growing relationship.
Yes, my boys are constantly on my mind to make good choices.
Of course, I would love it if the church worries were never a worry.
Certainly, I pray that our brand new newlywed class would grow and for those couples to get rooted early in their married years to Christ.
No doubt I need help in all the other pastoral duties that I carry—providing vision for a church, managing a pastoral staff, putting together sermons, counseling individuals, managing a church budget in a tough economy, on and on I could go…

But what I really need, what I must have—I want the Holy Spirit to be so consuming of who that I am―that when I speak or act or lead or am at a doctor’s appointment or a school conference or the check-out line at Wal-Mart―that the people I encounter will see Jesus in me. Always. Only. Jesus.

Pastor Rob

Prepared for "Snowtorious B.I.G." and other things

2011-02-03T12:13:00.002-05:00

When I was a boy… (Uh Oh here it comes… just writing those five simple words, “When I was a boy” instantly makes me sound like my dad. In the Bob Prince sound-a-like competition, the question now becomes “What will follow those five fateful words?” Will I write about working at the age of eight hitching up the ice man’s horses, eating mayonnaise sandwiches—no meat, just mayo and bread, or shoveling mountains of snow? This week it’s all about the snow, of course). So “when I was a boy” in the Great White North (a.k.a. Michigan), we would have laughed at the euphemisms for our recent slight dusting of snow. Seriously, do we have to refer to this week’s event as “Snowpocalypse”, “Snowmegeddon” or (as hip hop fans have been referring to it) “Snowtorious B.I.G.”? Back in the day, we had snow waist high (neck high to toddlers). We went to school even if there was a snowflake or two on the driveway. There were no snow blowers. We had shovels the size of teaspoons. Yet, we shoveled our walks and our neighbor’s walks, too. And we didn’t (I repeat did not) name the blizzards as if the world was coming to an end. (I think my dad is smiling in heaven right now and telling St. Peter how I’m a “chip off the ol’ block”. Peter probably doesn’t understand the cliché.)

I don’t know if you happened upon a grocery store on Monday night with the impending doom of “Blizzardopoly” on the horizon, but people were flooding my local Price Chopper like there would never be food in the Northern Hemisphere again. I walked into the grocery store to get medicine for our sick puppy… (That’s not another name for Ben. Our dog has been acting strange lately and the vet suggested we give her a baby aspirin or two.) When I walked into Price Chopper, I noticed that every shopping cart was in use. Every single one. Now I didn’t need a cart since my only purchase was Maggy’s baby aspirin. Still, the notion that every single cart was gone indicated to me that maybe the apocalypse had come.

I started to hum the song “And you were left behind” from the old Christian film A Thief in the Night. I wondered if maybe I should buy the last can of Spam on the shelf (then I remembered I don’t like Spam… sorry Pastor Tim). I ran a mental check list of needed supplies. Do we have enough batteries for our flashlights? Do we have any flashlights? Will we starve if we are snowed in for the next 24 hours (if not days)? Will we be able to see our food if we don’t have any flashlights?

I decided all of this was just plain silly. And while standing with my aspirin in the checkout line that reached Manitoba, (OK it didn’t go that far, but it was winding its way into the frozen food section) I thought how glad I am that I am prepared. And when I write “prepared” I’m not referring to “Snowzilla”. Instead I am so thankful that I am ultimately prepared for “come what may”. I have Christ Jesus as my Savior. I know that should my life end today, I will be at home with Him. My eternal accommodations have been made. My future is secure. I am thankful for the truth of Romans 10, where Paul writes: If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved. As Scripture says, “Anyone who believes in Him will never be put to shame.” For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on Him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” (Romans 10:9-13)

So, if this week’s 15 inches of the white fluffy stuff really were “Snowathon 2011”, then my cupboards might not have been totally prepared. But on a much more important matter, I am so glad to report that my heart is prepared! Thanks be to God! And my question for you is: Are you prepared?

Our New Newlywed Class

2011-01-13T11:53:00.001-05:00

This week Karla and I (along with Paul and Sheryl Kyle) will begin teaching a Newlywed Sunday School Class at Central. It’s been a while since we’ve been newlyweds—maybe this class will make us feel like newlyweds again. Maybe it will make us thankful that we aren’t. In any event, preparing for Sunday reminded me of those early days of our marriage.

Karla and I were married while I was finishing my last semester of seminary. In fact, we were married smack dab in the middle of the semester. Why did we choose to get married with school in full swing? This might not be the best reason for moving up a wedding day (although there are far worse reasons)… but here was our reason:

At the time, Karla worked as a corporate travel agent. During her company’s annual Christmas gathering, she won a pair of free airline tickets to anywhere in the world—but the tickets had to be used by April 1st. (No fooling.) Waa-la… our June wedding became a March wedding.

So where in the world should a love struck couple honeymoon in March after a long, cold Kansas City winter? Hawaii? No. The Bahamas? Nope. Paris? Venice? The jungles of the Amazon? All romantic locations I’m sure, but no. We went to see John Wesley’s house (the founder of Methodism)… in London.
“Isn’t John Wesley dead?”
“Yes. He’s been dead for years.” (At the time of our wedding day, John Wesley had been dead exactly 197 years and ten days.)
“Then why go to his house? Wouldn’t the tea and crumpets have been a bit stale?”
“Well, it’s not just his house… there’s a chapel there, too!”
“Wesley’s house doesn’t sound very romantic even with a chapel on the property,” you say.
“Ummm… so I’ve been told the last 23 years.”
“Isn’t London in March cold and rainy?” you ask.
“Isn’t London always cold and rainy?” I ask back.
“So why go to Wesley’s house in cold and rainy London for your honeymoon, when you could have gone to a sunny, romantic beach in Hawaii?”
I have no answer to that question—other than to offer the excuse that I was a John Wesley geek. (See the above reference to the exact number of years and days our wedding day fell past his demise.) Truth be told, I am still a Wesley geek. But I am a wiser and smarter John Wesley geek than in those early days of my wedded life. By the way, I promised Karla that at some point in our married life we would get to Hawaii. We haven’t made it there yet… but Karla if you are reading this….someday we’ll get there, “cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye”.

All that to say, similar mistakes (and others much more important) are what we are hoping our young couples will avoid. That’s why we are starting this new newlywed class. (That and the fact, that our old newlywed class membership roster isn’t really filled with newlyweds anymore. I think they are sending their kids off to college next year. The last wedding in the class took place during the Reagan administration. OK, it’s not quite that bad, but they aren’t newlyweds.) This Sunday, all those who consider themselves newlyweds or “nearly weds” or those who are “just thinkin’ about it” are welcome to join us in Room 229 at 10 a.m. We will be beginning a study called “Building your Marriage to Last”. I am excited about young couples starting their married life off on the right foot, and I am excited about them meeting other young couples who are in the same place in life. I think this is going to be a great group; I just might not like sharing all of these old stories.

NIcaragua Team Returns

2011-01-10T08:43:00.001-05:00

The last of our Mission team is to arrive back in the states today or tomorrow (the weather might keep them from Kansas City). But all reports from Nicaragua are good. The Church Building was built. Good things accomplished. And best of all 67 people committed their life to Christ! I love it! Next Trip: Jordan in June!

Mission Trips are worth it!

2011-01-10T08:41:00.000-05:00

We had a brief discussion in the executive committee meeting on mission trips and church income. Does church income dip as people are paying for mission trips? Are they using their tithe to take a “vacation”? That’s the argument.

Let me just flat out say it: I think mission trips are worth it. One mission trip equals 52 sermons in my opinion. While maybe people shrink their tithe to pay for mission trip #1, I doubt that happens thereafter. Rather I think mission trips produce givers.

I’ve seen plenty of nominal mission givers become phenomenal mission givers after going on a mission trip. The way you get a heart of missions is doing missions. People need to experience missions first-hand. That’s why it is one of our main strategies in making better disciples. That’s why we want 15% of our congregation going on mission trips every year. That’s why we try to provide those opportunities. Besides, we've had quite a few Centralites return to the mission field after a short term trip-- a one-week trip turns into a lifetime calling (see David and Jodi Cooper as prime example #1 and our speakers on Sunday Brad and Nancy Firestone as example #2).

If you've never been you need to go. It'll change your life!

By the way, Dan Rexroth tells me he now has had 39 people expressing interest in the 30 spots for the Jordan mission trip! (I love these kind of problems!)

Rob's Handy Traveling Tips

2010-11-18T17:26:00.001-05:00

Yesterday three people told me they were traveling to Ohio this weekend (which made the Michigander in me proud of their missionary zeal). It also reminded me that we are in the travel season and it may be time for “Pastor Rob’s Handy Dandy Travel Tips”. The Bible doesn’t say a whole lot about modern transportation (although the old joke is that the disciples were in “one accord” for you Honda fans). While these tips might not rival the auto club in notoriety or even usage, they may come in handy for those traveling in the days ahead. So fasten your seat belt (literally) and listen up:

1) Remember to pray before the journey. Our family prayer always included something about no accidents, no car troubles and no speeding tickets (ahem… that last one takes divine intervention, a radar detector, and/or a less than heavy foot).

2) Always pack plenty of patience. Cars are small. Space is limited. There’s never enough elbow room. Everyone gets cranky when fueled by fast food and Skittles. So patience on the trip is an important item to take along. Do you remember Paul’s words in the love chapter (“Love is patient and kind.” 1 Corinthians 13:4)? I think those words are in effect even when traveling in a subcompact beater on I-70 in a traffic jam outside of St. Louie. Speaking of St. Louie…

3) Include a sense of humor on the trip. Last Christmas Eve our family left right after the service and headed for Michigan. You might recall that there was a pretty good blizzard happening in Kansas City last Christmas Eve, so we didn’t get nearly as far as I had hoped. In fact, we only traveled to this side of St. Louis when we had to stop for the night. It was cold, snowy, and late. I went into a Days Inn Motel and announced to the desk clerk that my name was Joseph; Mary was outside and was wondering if there was any room in the inn. After managing to stretch this three hour drive into six hours because of the snowy and blizzardy road conditions, I thought that was some very funny Christmas Eve humor. Apparently the desk clerk did not. Maybe he had another religion, maybe he was not happy about working on Christmas Eve, or it could be that he was cranky about his working conditions. (The original Mary and Joseph slept in a barn, this motel smelled like one.) In any event, he was not amused. Whether there was room at the inn or not, we didn’t wait around to see. The stable-like aroma convinced us to stay at the Comfort Inn instead.

4) Take a few moments along the way for family devotions. Don’t just move from one DVD to the next or have the kids in the backseat tuned out completely to the world and in “iPod la la land”. Take a few moments to read from the Bible together and pray together as a family. (Driver, you have permission to keep your eyes open during the prayer or you might be having your conversation with Jesus face to face.)

5) Remember, it’s the Thanksgiving Season, so be thankful. Be thankful for the ability to travel; thankful for the ability to see family and friends; thankful for the ability to move and breathe and enjoy life... we have much for which we can be thankful.

6) Take Jesus with you. Wherever you go; whatever your destination; make sure that Jesus is with you. Your family and friends need to see Jesus in you. Make sure you don’t leave Jesus in Kansas when you travel, but take him with you so that you may say as Paul did in Romans 15: “Pray that I may be kept safe….so that I may come to you with joy, by God’s will, and in your company be refreshed. The God of peace be with you all.” (Romans 15:31-32)

If traveling from the area in the next week; be safe, enjoy, and bear Christ in all you do!

Tater Tots and Me

2010-08-26T15:05:00.000-04:00

As you know America has produced many fine inventors in her 234 years of existence: Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, and George Washington Carver are just a few of the fine contributors to the American way of life. But by my way of thinking two of the greatest American inventors were Nephi and Golden Grigg. (Did his mama really name her son “Golden”? Maybe she knew he was destined for greatness.)

“Who were the brothers Grigg?” you say.

Back in 1953, Nephi and Golden came up with the novel idea of chopping up potato slivers, adding flour and seasoning, then pushing the mash through holes and slicing off the cylinder pieces which came out on the other side. What came out on the other side was a little bit of heaven otherwise known as “Tater Tots.” The company that the Grigg brothers founded, Ore-Ida, has been selling tots ever since, and today Americans consume approximately 70 million pounds of tots per year. And why not--they are crispy, crunchy, and delicious! Napoleon Dynamite is not alone; how could anyone not love tots?

So this week when Karla informed me that she would not be home in time to prepare dinner and that the evening’s duty would fall to me—of course, my natural reaction was to think of the Griggs and their heavenly tots. Ben grilled the chicken; we sliced some cantaloupe; and I baked the tots. We all agreed -- it was a tasty meal.

Unfortunately, about 45 minutes after consuming our lovely dinner, Karla and I were at Ben’s meet-the-teacher night and a powerful headache came upon me. It was a doozy-- an extra, uber doozy. (For the last ten days I was doing pretty well in the headache department. In fact, on the way to the school that night I commented to Karla about how well I had been doing. Those proved to be famous last words because just as we were about to enter Ben’s fourth hour class… POW! Migraine city!). What could have caused such a reaction?

I’ve tried several tactics to curb these nasty headaches one of which is a very restrictive diet. Which as I have mentioned previously means —“if it tastes good I can’t eat it.” Certainly the chicken and the sliced melon did not cause my head to do the “crazy cranium crunch.” I don’t even want to say it…. but could Nephi and Golden Grigg’s wonderful invention “the glorious and delightfully delicious Tater Tot” be the culprit? Say it ain’t so, Napoleon.

When we got home from the school as I found the nearest, quietest, darkest room, Karla found the package of tots and sure enough they contain onions (a big no-no on my list of banned food substances). Who knew? Nephi and Golden put onions into their scrumptious recipe. You really can’t taste the ornery onion. You can’t smell the obnoxious onion. But my noggin knew that buried deep within the tasty, crunchy morsels of goodness was an evil onion and my noggin didn’t like it… not one bit.

The Apostle Paul never tasted delectable Tater Tots and the evil onions of doom contained therein—but he did know about dough and yeast and this is what he warned the churches in Galatia: false teaching is like a little yeast that spreads through the whole batch of dough! (Galatians 5:9) He was saying it doesn’t take much bad theology to mess up a good thing. It doesn’t take many lies to get good people off track. Just as it didn’t take a lot of onions to send my head into a tizzy; it doesn’t take much false teaching to lead people astray. That’s why it’s important for me to read the labels of the food I consume (no onions of destruction, please!) and it’s vitally important for all of us to consume the Word of God so we won’t fall prey to false teachings (no heresies please!).

Well, I’ve learned my lesson this week—I won’t eat tots without checking the label first—and I hope that all of us won’t venture far into our day without checking into God’s Word; thereby keeping us free from any faulty thinking and focused on the Truth of the Lord!

"God is really among us"

2010-08-21T11:18:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I was reading a passage that we rarely read in our tribe (we rarely read it—and almost never on Sundays-- because Paul is talking about tongues in the passage and most Nazarenes get scared off the topic faster than you can say “Phineas F. Bresee.” Just seeing the word “tongues” gives most of my fellow Nazarenes the “holy heebie jeebies,” but that’s another topic for another day). Paul, in this passage, talks about an unbeliever going to a church service and at this particular service, prophesying is taking place (talk about the “holy heebie jeebies” daily double, this passage might be it—tongues and prophesying. Oh my!) But Paul seems to indicate that prophesying should happen among the believers; and he doesn’t act like this is an odd event at all but rather seems to imply that it should be a common occurrence. Anyway, that’s not my point, instead my point is… Something powerful happens to this unbeliever during this particular worship service—he is convinced of his sins and he proclaims “God is really among you.” (1 Corinthians 14:25)

That’s the phrase that has captured my thinking—an unbeliever saying: “God is really among you.” How often do unbelievers proclaim that about us? When a visitor comes into our service on a Sunday morning is that what they would say first? “God is really among you.” You see, more than a comment on how lovely our sanctuary is or what nice people we are or what nice music we have or even what a nice pastor we have (ahem)—I want every visitor, every time to say, “God is really among you.” And quite honestly, shame on us, if a visitor leaves on a Sunday without that impression.

Will you pray that this Sunday we will have a “God is really among us” experience? That everyone—from the first time visitor to the longest tenured member would proclaim “God is really among us.”

Wedding Rehearsals

2010-08-19T13:42:00.000-04:00

Tonight I will be leading a wedding rehearsal. I stopped counting how many weddings and rehearsals I’ve been at long ago, I am sure this is around my 475,985 rehearsal (or it just seems like that).

Wedding rehearsals are kind of fun. There is a nervous energy in the air. Everyone is getting ready for the big day; and when the dry run is over you get to eat. As the name suggests a rehearsal is a practice. It’s the time to work out the bugs. So by definition things aren’t always perfect at rehearsals. There are a few things that you can count on:

• Someone will be late.
• The bow-on-a-paper-plate bouquet that the bride carries down the aisle is half tacky; half terrific!
• If the Mother of the Bride (The MOTB) isn’t happy; ain’t nobody happy.
• If the Father of the Bride (the FOTB) looks broke; he is.
• If the Mother of the Groom (The MOTG) looks like she is about to lose something and gain something; she is.
• If the MOTB is blubbering away during the rehearsal make sure there are two boxes of tissue on her pew during the wedding.
• The flower girl will walk down the aisle flawlessly one time-- and one time only. It will either happen at the rehearsal or during the actual ceremony—but never both. Never. So if she walks down the aisle like an angel during the practice then beware during the real deal.
• If the ring bearer is under 3 years old, chances are Barnum and Bailey’s grizzly bear would have a better chance to bring the rings forward without turning the wedding into a circus than the toddler.
• No matter how much duct tape you put on the floor to remind the groomsmen exactly where to stand, they will find themselves in the wrong spot during the ceremony.
• There is at least one bridesmaid that should not be wearing the chiffon dress that the bride has picked for the ladies to wear.
• Twenty-two years ago, when I first started officiating weddings the groomsmen had tattoos and the bridesmaids had earrings; that fashion statement has been reversed—weird.
• No amount of reminding the Maid of Honor not to worry about the wedding gown’s train will keep her from adjusting it at least three times on the wedding day.
• Even if the wedding singer has sung the wedding song a bazillion times, he or she will still want to sing their song a bazillion and oneth time at the rehearsal with the microphone.
• If the soon-to-be-bride punches the groom during the rehearsal, that’s probably an indicator the wedding should be rethought (I had a ring side seat for that one.)
• Every soon-to-be-groom wants to practice the kiss (not sure about the groom that got punched).
• If the following people are invited to the rehearsal dinner: the minister, the grandparents of the bride and the fraternity brothers of the groom -- avoid having the frat boys offer a toast during the meal. (Two words: Awk Ward!)

There’s a lot of planning that goes into making the wedding day perfect. I pray that we put as much effort into making our marriages perfect. Much more than one good day; marriages are meant to last forever. With God’s help they can—it’s putting Him first and the couple moving forward through life hand in hand trusting God all the way. That’s my prayer for tonight’s couple; and my prayer for all of our couples-- that we would live by Joshua’s words, “As for me and my house we will serve the Lord.” (Joshua 24:15)

I’m becoming less of the old me.

2010-07-30T18:37:00.001-04:00

I’m becoming a whole new me. Or maybe a better way of stating it is: I’m becoming less of the old me.

I’ve told you about this crazy headache diet that my doctor has put me on. The basics of it are: If a food tastes good—I can’t eat it. The bad news is that I can eat nothing but dry salad, dry meat, and a few fruits and veggies. Yuck! The good news is that in the last three weeks I have lost 16 pounds.

And now thanks to my insurance company’s approval, on Monday I am going to have my first Botox treatment for my headaches. As you may or may not know, Botox has been used to turn aging, wrinkled, and past their prime Hollywood has-beens into non-wrinkled, past their prime Hollywood has-beens, but for me—hopefully it will turn me into a headache free pastor.

So if you are keeping score at home—while I am not quite svelte I’m getting “sveltier;” and while I’m not getting Botox for my wrinkles I will be “Botoxier;” and the calendar says in the not too distant future I will officially be in my late forties (right now, at 46, I say I am still in my mid forties but hitting 47 will definitely push me face first into my “late forties”). All this to say, as a “sveltier,” “botoxier,” older version of me—I am just a few gold chains, a couple of unbuttoned shirt buttons, and a white convertible away from a mid-life crisis. Karla is worried. Very worried.

I’m not exactly sure what one does in a mid-life crisis, but the name sounds like it can’t be good. Anything that ends with the word “crisis” is generally bad. The Cuban Nuclear Crisis wasn’t good. Neither was the “Iranian Hostage Crisis” nor was the most recent “Gulf Oil Crisis.” So if you don’t mind, I think I want to avoid a mid-life crisis. Besides I really can’t afford a convertible at this time (or a gold chain for that matter)—I have a son that will be a freshman in college in the fall.

In fact, the only good crisis I know of is the one Paul describes in 2 Corinthians 5:17: if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! Whatever time in your life (mid-life or otherwise)—you can have an “all-new-you” life—a crisis in the best possible way! A God way!

Paul knew a thing or two about doing the ol’ 180 degree turn around in one’s life. He went from being a fiery, Jesus hater to an on-fire, Jesus proclaimer of the highest regard. He went from being the guy chasing down Christians and tossing them in jail, to being the one tossed in jail for his faith in Christ. And when asked if he would have it any other way he said, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20) Now that’s a crisis I wish we all would experience—and one added benefit of having a Jesus crisis-- you need not purchase a gold chain or a convertible to get it!

Firewords and the 4th of July on a Sunday

2010-07-01T12:00:00.000-04:00

I like fireworks. I am more of a big lights in the sky kind of guy rather than a big boom kind of guy. But I like all of ‘em, truth be told. I like it when there are loud speakers or you can tune in your radio to a station playing patriotic music as the fireworks are bursting. I like it when you are in a place where you can see not just your fireworks display but other community’s fireworks displays too. I like it when families can make a “night out” of the fireworks event. They get ice cream. They have fun. They “ooooh” and “aaahhh” together at the pretty displays in the sky. I like it when the pyrotechnic technicians fake out the viewers into thinking we are seeing the “Big Finale” only to continue the show and then give the “real” Big Finale a few minutes later.

I am not sure who first said, “Let’s celebrate America’s freedom by blowing stuff up in the sky!” But whoever it was… genius. Pure genius. It’s a great way to end a great day!

Of course, this year the Fourth is on Sunday. So that means we have the opportunity to begin celebrating our Freedom by celebrating our freedom to worship. Which I guess makes sense. Since so many early Americans risked life and limb to come to a land where they could worship and pray and in a manner in which they pleased—it seems appropriate before we fire up the grill, break out the potato salad, and let Frisbees fly that we take time to worship. Long before gathering up the lawn chairs and the blankets to watch a fireworks display we gather and say, “Thanks to God from whom all blessings flow.” Could it be that the most patriotic thing we can do is not wave a flag or stomp to a John Phillips Sousa tune but bow our heads and seek the Lord and live by the words in 2 Chronicles 7:14 “if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

Multi-Tasking during the Soccer Game

2010-06-24T14:59:00.001-04:00

I am not much of a soccer fan, but even I have been caught up in the World Cup mania. When Landon Donovan scored the last second, game winning, sending the USA to the next round goal in the yesterday’s game, I was sitting at my computer watching the drama unfold while talking with a young pastor in another state about a matter in his church. The conversation went something like this:

Him: Hey Rob, I need your opinion on an important matter…
(Donovan kicked the ball in the net)
Me (Screaming at the top of my lungs): GOOOOOOOAAAAAAL!!!!!!
Him: Umm… I am not sure that is the answer I was looking for…

I am not sure my friend will call back for advice anytime soon. Oops.

Multi-tasking is not one of my spiritual gifts.

God is different. It blows my mind to imagine with six billion people on planet earth at any given moment there are millions if not a billion or two prayers being uttered in one form or another. The Bible is quite clear that God knows not only the intricate detail of each and every request, but even knows the minutia like the number of hairs on even the most adamant atheist’s head. God is the Uber Multi-Tasker. Moreover, our conversations with the Creator don’t get lost in the shuffle of the millions of other appeals; they are not misplaced on a Divine “to-do” list that never gets done. God hears our prayers; He knows our needs; and He supplies them exactly when needed.

You’ve heard me say it before but it’s worth repeating: He knows what we need; He knows when we need it; we can trust Him.

I’ve had to remind myself of that truth this week. We returned home from our trip to Michigan to find that our house had experienced a few mishaps while we were away (a leaky roof; a wet basement; there was mildew and a “pleasant” aroma filling the air; a leaking pipe; and a broken dishwasher…. All in the 24-hour, welcome home period! WOW!) Now we could look at all of those troubles and lament: “Why us? Why now? Boo Hoo hoo…” (Ok maybe we did that for a minute or two, especially when we were running the rented carpet cleaner in the stinky basement).

But soon verses like Deuteronomy 7:9 came to mind: “Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commands.” And Lamentations 3:22-23: “Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

In other words, God knows what’s going on. He is faithful. Maybe there are 6 billion others on this twirling globe, but He hasn’t overlooked you. He’s not so consumed with a soccer game that he’s forgotten you; He’s not sleeping; and He’s not on vacation. He is very much aware of your situation. In other words, He knows what you need. He knows when you need it. You can trust him. So hang in there and trust—we serve a faithful God!

Leaky roofs and flooding basements

2010-06-10T16:29:00.000-04:00

I was sitting in my car;
In a traffic jam;
On I-435;
In the rain;
In route to my doctor’s office to receive a shot in hopes it would end a long lasting headache;
When Alex called me.
“Dad,” he said, “Our house is about to float away.” That is not how you want a conversation to begin. He proceeded to tell me that the great rain of Tuesday not only was finding its way into our basement, but was also coming in through the roof. The same roof that the roof guy “repaired” three weeks ago and assured me that he “got the leak, no problem.” In other words, we had what experts in troubles, problems and woes refer to as a “double whammy” – a flooding basement and a leaking roof.

Then I really had a headache.

When I got home I discovered that my #1 cherub is not a liar. Our house was collecting so much water—the people at the Schlitterbahn Water Park were calling to see if our place could be their next attraction. It made me long for the days of living in a parsonage. When the roof at the Bad Axe parsonage leaked; and when the sump pump stopped working; and when there were bats flying around our living room; and when there were mice in the kitchen; and when… well you get the idea-- the parsonage in Bad Axe would never have been confused with a mansion. Still when troubles arose, I made a phone call to one of the men of the church and he would come and make all things well. Parsonage living had its advantages.

Fortunately when I finally got home on Tuesday, Alex and a friend had everything under control. The water in the basement was sucked up and gone and there were buckets in strategic places in our hearth room. The next day, the roof guy came out and he believes that both my basement water and the roof leak are the same problem and that he can fix it…. “No problem.” (Haven’t I heard that before?)

In any event, we hope to have a handle on the house that is now a sieve.

Sometimes, like my house, it seems that our problems are coming from all sides. Look down - there they are. Look up and all you see is more trouble. You might feel like you want to agree with Woody Allen who once said, “Life is divided into the horrible and the miserable.” But instead of Woody-- I like the way the Message version reads the Apostle Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 4. It says: So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without His unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There's far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can't see now will last forever. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

In other words, don’t look at the size or the number of the problems—look to the One who can help in all things. So don’t give up! Hard times are small potatoes! Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus and He will see you through these “light and momentary troubles.”

Swaziland Update #5

2010-06-06T07:59:00.000-04:00

The Lenexa Central team has had a great week in Swaziland! Yesterday, Friday, June 4, was a busy, busy day for everyone. The education team met at the school for the opening assembly and then spent the next hour and a half talking candidly with the teachers of the primary school about the similarities and differences between the educational system of the USA and Swaziland. Then at 10:00 we were joined by the school board and commenced with a formal presentation. Drs. Linda Alexander and Romona Stowe presented special gifts from our team to the school’s principal and assistant principal. Each teacher from our team also presented gifts to the coordinating Swazi teachers and left candy and small trinkets for all of the students at the school. The final gift we left for the school was the beginnings of the first ever elementary library at the Enzengini primary school. There were over three hundred books, many balls, jump ropes, school supplies, and games given to the school. After tearful goodbyes to the Swazi teachers and students, the team headed to work with the ladies of the mission and continue putting up block on the home for nurses.

Since many Swazi ladies do not know their date of birth, the ladies celebrated a universal birthday party with cupcakes, party hats, blow horns, songs, candles, streamers and cards. The Swazi ladies also taught our ladies how to make a grass mat. They then lovingly gave the mat to our Central ladies. Today the ladies all met together and talked about “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the gospel…” It then made perfect sense and fun to help the Swazi ladies make flip-flops by tying colorful balloons on each pair. The ladies were so impressed with their new shoes! Next they had a wonderful Spirit-filled time of devotions, songs and prayer. Wow! The power of God came on those ladies and each one was powerfully moved.

Today was the final day at the work sight of the Diane Garrison Memorial Home for Nurses. Our team worked for several hours and then met in the house to share a time of dedication. We were joined by the head nurse of the mission and several other Swazis. We sang three of Diane’s favorite hymns then heard some words of dedication from both Brent LaVigne and Dan Rexroth. Paul Garrison presented a memorial plaque and welcome sign to the head nurse who will be living in the home when it is finished. This service was again a special time for all the whole team. We loved Diane and were happy to be able to build a house in her honor.

Our team finished the day by visiting the famous Harmon Schmelzenbach rock where he saw the smoke from a thousand fires and committed his life to serving God in Swaziland. Many photos were taken as we gazed upon the beauty of the Lord’s handiwork in Swaziland.

We want to wish you all well and are praying that God will continue to sustain you until we see you again in a few days. From our team in Swaziland to our family and friends in the USA…We love you!

PALCON and Imperfect Umpires

2010-06-04T11:31:00.001-04:00

I’ve been at PALCON this week. PALCON stands for Pastors and Leaders Conference, I think. I write “I think” because I’ve checked and rechecked the brochure and I didn’t come up with actual words for the acronym. So, with that being in mind, I decided to come up with a few alternative meanings for the PALCON acronym:

Please Admonish Lame Comments On Neanderthals (I like cavemen)

Permanently And Lovingly Consider Outlawing Neck-ties (I don’t like neck-ties)

Preaching A Lesser Christ Only Nauseates (It’s kind of theological, an occupational hazard of mine)

Maybe they should stick with Pastors and Leaders Conference.

I am really not much of a conference guy. I’ve said many times that the reason God called me to preach is that He knew I couldn’t sit through a church service. My mom used to say I have “ants in my pants” (not true by the way). But I am fidgety. I take candy. I try to listen. Still when the preacher mentions some scripture, my mind goes in a million directions on how I would preach the passage or what points I would bring out or what illustrations I would use.

To further complicate matters, last night a very fine preacher was scheduled to preach. Unfortunately, just before the service I checked the baseball scores on my phone. My beloved Detroit Tigers were playing the Cleveland Indians. When I checked the scores, the Tigers were winning 1-0 and Armando Galarraga (the Tiger pitcher) had not given up a hit. Wow! He was pitching a no-hitter.

So every few minutes when I knew the Indians were batting I would go back to my phone and check the score. Sing a verse—check the score. Pray a prayer—check the score. Galarraga continued to pitch great. In fact, he was pitching a perfect game—which means every batter he faced made an out. It was that way, all the way through the ninth inning. I know I was supposed to be listening or singing or whatever it was we were doing at the conference—but I was so curious—would Armando pitch a perfect game? (It has never been done in Tiger’s history. In fact, in all of Major League Baseball’s history it has only been done 20 times!)

If you are a sports fan, then you know the story. With only one out to go (Galarraga had gotten all 26 batters he had faced to make outs), the final batter in what would have been his perfect game hit a grounder to the first baseman. The first baseman caught the ball and flipped it to Galarraga who was covering first base. All the replays show that the batter, Jason Donald, was out, but the umpire mistakenly called him safe. In so doing, it ruined Armando Galarraga’s perfect game. AAAARGH!!! (I almost shouted a mean comment or two about the umpire right then and there, which would have been quite awkward with the PALCON service in full swing).

Some people are calling it the biggest blunder by an umpire in baseball history. The ump would later admit he missed the call, felt horrible and apologized. Lesson learned: Umpires are human too.

So are preachers. So are you. We all make mistakes. We all say dumb things. We all do dumb things. There are times when we don’t do what we know we should do (like paying attention at PALCON last night). That’s the problem with living on this sin-stained planet. I look forward to experiencing Jesus’ prayer, “On earth as it is in heaven.” I look forward to a time when I won’t be putting my foot in my mouth, when I won’t forget appointments, when I will know how to appropriately respond to all situations. But until that day, like Paul, I want to say “I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back.” (Philippians 3:12-14 The Message) In other words, I might not be perfect, but I want to keep moving forward in becoming more and more the person God desires me to be.

Well, I am “off and running” back to PALCON. I sure hope the Tigers don’t have another game like last night or I won’t learn a thing.

Swaziland Update #4

2010-06-04T10:45:00.001-04:00

Thursday June 3, 2010

Greetings from Swaziland. Another day has come to an end and as most of you wrap up lunch we are wrapping up dinner/devotions. The last two days have been busy for the entire team, which would explain our silence yesterday. The main event for Wednesday was time with The Luke Commission (www.thelukecommission.org) . This organization is composed of both Swazis and US Americans and serves all over Swaziland. It was started by a husband and wife who are a physician and PA team. Twice a week this organization sets up in various locations and provides medical care for everyone that shows up, including many who may have walked great distances. The care is free of charge and includes stations for eye exams and glasses, testing for HIV, blood sugar, blood pressure, tuberculosis, spiritual guidance, physical exam, post-test HIV counseling, special personal transportation devices for the disabled, and pharmaceuticals for any identified conditions. We don’t know how many patients were seen, but the team left the site at almost 10 pm. The educators continued to educate and the construction continued with only a minor “delay” from a broken down cement mixer. The women’s ministry has been fortunate enough to learn from the Swazi women some of the techniques used in their native handy-work including floor mats, beaded jewelry, clothing, etc.

Thursday Ramona, Mike, and Melissa taught the sixth and seventh grade students Excel bar graphs. The local pastor from the Endzingeni Church of the Nazarene spoke in the elementary school chapel for all of the students. The teachers sat in the front and the students stood for the entire service. The construction project and ditch digging (for a drinking water pump pipe) continue and the progress is beginning to be evident. Some of the team was able to listen in on choir practice at the high school and elementary school, both teams are going to competitions next week and are truly amazing. To date there have been no major injuries, thanks be to God. Tomorrow we hope to begin the trellis framework, assuming the materials arrive.

Grace and Peace from Swaziland.

Swaziland Team Update #1

2010-06-02T08:38:00.002-04:00

We are in Swaziland enjoying a rainy Sunday.

The flights were long but uneventful. We arrived in Johannesburg, South Africa about a half hour early and were able to eat dinner before making the 5-hour drive straight to Manzini, Swaziland. Even though many were very tired, we were all awake about midnight to go through customs into Swaziland. It did not seem like it had been almost 31 hours since we had left Kansas City.

Sunday morning we enjoyed a spirit-filled service at Sharpe Memorial Church with several hundred Swazi’s. Much of the singing was in Suswati until we sang the song "Our praises go up so the glory will come down". As we all sang, the Lord’s Spirit was so real as the words to the song came true. The pastor preached a great sermon that was translated into English about the wide and narrow gate as he compared it to the enthusiasm of the teams playing in the World Cup. It was a great 2+ hour service.

Later in the afternoon, we went to Brent and Micaele’s (Mission Corps Missionaries) house to load up 30 buckets of food that we will deliver Monday afternoon to those who are suffering with HIV. After putting the various basic food items into the buckets, Dan Rexroth lead us in a prayer of consecration, asking God to bless the $18 worth of food that we were delivering to strengthen the bodies of the sick. The money the Central Church is giving will be able to feed many people for a long time.

What a great day it has been. Tomorrow, we will visit the hospital and spend the rest of the day visiting those with HIV. Please pray that Holy Spirit will go before we visit and will guide our actions tomorrow.

Swaziland Team Update #2

2010-06-02T08:38:00.001-04:00

Hey Everyone,

It’s Monday evening, May 31. We spent a very atypical Memorial Day! After breakfast we loaded up in our 3 vans and headed to Raleigh Fitkin Memorial Hospital here in Manzini. It is part of the 25 acre mission compound which includes Sharpe Memorial Church, the nursing college, School of Education, a high school and missionary housing. For those long-time Nazarene’s, it is a place we’ve all read and heard about all our lives. The director of the hospital, Leonard, took half the group and Brent, the Mission Corp volunteer took the other and we spent probably 2 hours touring the facility. It was almost surreal to be there and meet the staff and see the patients. It’s the largest hospital in the country. Many different organizations have contributed to the growth of it including your US tax dollars! It was a very busy place. They have a separate entrance for the HIV/AIDS patients to use to help remove some of the stigma of having the disease.

When we left there, we went to the regional offices to pick up the leaders of the AIDS task force to go with us on the home visits. Our van had Mary Magagula who is the retired nurse who began the force along with Evelyn Shongwe and a man who is working with them. Each van had 10 large buckets filled with food and other necessities and a list of clients to visit. Our group was able to go into most of the ‘homes’ and look all around their homesteads. The first lady we visited was 65 or 70 and all alone. Her children had all left to work far away and could not be there to help take care of her. Her only visitor is the volunteer who comes to see her a couple times a week. She was beyond thrilled with everything but especially the 5lb bag of mealie meal which is a major staple in their diet. Mary said there had been a drought and no one had been able to harvest any so they were all thrilled. We sang ‘Amazing Grace’ and prayed with each person. Most of them were Christians and were thanking Jesus for this blessing. Mary was very compassionate with them and checked all their medical papers to tell if they were improving or needed hospital care or whatever. Our group also had small mirrors in rubber cases and we gave them to the patients and also to some of their families. They LOVED seeing themselves! We also passed out Tootsie Rolls and stuffed animals to the kids. We added a couple new clients today because one was visiting one of the clients we were visiting and she also had the disease and another as we drove by and Mary just wanted to stop and check on the people. That man had been sick for a few months and they used Becky Ellis’s stethoscope to listen to his chest and determined that he probably had TB and needed medicine. Mary told him to go to the hospital tomorrow and be checked. She said there is a very good cure rate for TB with the medicine.

The other two vans had even more exciting stories! (I forgot to tell you that our van went to Stegi and the others went other places.) Anyway, both other teams led people to Christ! One group was at a home where two brothers, ages 19 and 22, both had HIV/AIDS. Eric Kesselring was praying with them and asked if they knew Jesus and they said no. So, he prayed with them and they both accepted Christ!!! Isn’t that awesome!! He said you could really tell the difference in them immediately! Their mom was already a Christian but they were not. It was just an amazing experience for all of us. These homes were in very rural areas and many where exactly what you picture when you think of Africa…round huts with thatched roofs.

We all need to get to sleep early tonight because we still haven’t made up for sleep loss from the trip and tomorrow is a very early day, especially for the education team. They have to leave here at 6am to be in Endzengeni by 8am for a special school assembly planned just for them. It will be their first day of teaching. Please pray for them. They are a great group of girls and we have really enjoyed having them on the team. The rest of us will leave here at 7am and begin construction on the nurses house and do our women’s ministry. We will spend 5 days working and then go to church with the people next Sunday.

Please pray for all of us. We keep very busy and are all very tired, but thoroughly enjoying all aspects of the trip. It’s chilly in the morning and evening and warmed up nicely today. Wish we could tell you so many more details but that will have to wait till we get home.

Blessings to all of you.

JoAnne Rexroth

Swaziland Team Update #3

2010-06-02T08:37:00.000-04:00

Swaziland Update #3

Hello All,

Roger Alexander reporting for the crew tonight from Maguga Lodge, Piggs Peak, Swaziland, SA. Look it up on the web…we are suffering with beautiful views and getting ready for dinner at 18:30. The lodge overlooks the Maguga Dam. Beautiful. Drs. Linda Alexander and Ramona Stowe and their seven MNU students along with MNU grads and teachers Mike and Cheralea Purcell woke this morning around 4:45-5a.m. to travel two hours to teach by 8a.m. The Purcell’s taught a 7th grade class and the others younger grades. The Purcells were prepared for the day but were surprised by the teacher asking them to do 30 minutes on American history…so, TIA (This Is Africa), they did 60 minutes on American history with the teacher asking most of the questions…”have you met your Prime Minister?...we don’t have one….what?...Have you met the President?...

Dan Rexroth, our leader reminded us in our meetings to be flexible… We are flexible! The construction crew joined with a team of workers from Manzini (about two hours away) who had already started their day by laying cinder block walls. Our team tried not to slow them down by joining them. By lunch time we all were in synch and made quite a bit of progress by adding around 5 more courses. One section of the Diane Garrison Memorial nurses dorm is almost ready for us to pour concrete for the tie beam (a beam that runs along the entire top of the outside walls tying it all together for strength. The Lord willing tomorrow we will be able to complete the other half of the dorm and do their tie beam….Lord willing. Other members of the construction crew started digging a foot wide trench, two feet deep and fifty feet long. They only hit one large water line and one small water line…repairs begin in the morning and the neighbors will be happy (a joke…the leaks are very small but supplies take time to get as everything typically comes the two hours from Manzini.) I have learned the dorm is basically a duplex with two bedrooms, a bathtub and sink room, a toilet room and a living room on each side for a total of 4 bedrooms for nurses. With this setup four nurses could be on each side or some nurses could bring a child to live with them in their room. TIA. The nurses will have to walk about 30 feet to the clinic.

Tomorrow a group of doctors and nurses will be at the clinic and have agreed to see every patient who is in line. The clinic will start early in the morning and has been known to run until one or two in the morning. People will walk for miles for this primitive care. It makes me want to stop complaining about traffic lights and having to wait five minutes in a Walmart line.

Everyone is fine (except the author who used his 6 foot 4 head to hit a 5 foot 10 inch door jam…not too many tall people around I noticed somewhat late so there is no need to waste wood on taller doors apparently). We are working in Piggs Peak, Swaziland area where the Church of the Nazarene’s first missionaries were stationed. I heard today that it took the missionary three years for their first convert. May we all be so persistent in sharing our faith. A little about the area, it is VERY hilly, about 5-6,000 feet, the sun is shining and dry, about 65-70 degrees. The local people are running around freezing with coats on and we are in shirt sleeves. Well, that is about all for now. Thank you for your continued prayers for our team. We are learning a lot about the country and ourselves.

God is good all the time.

Roger AlexanderCub Reporter

Broken Toilets and Pulpits

2010-05-06T11:11:00.000-04:00

The toilet in my office is loud when it flushes. Really loud. Windows shaking, “mountain-falling-into-the-sea” kind of loud. Until today. Today it sits in the water closet silent and broken. I don’t know why. When I push down on the little silver thingy there is no FLUUUUUSSSSH noise! It has never been my favorite toilet because of the aforementioned ear shattering, sonic boom decibel level flushes, but at least it worked. Until today.

The Plexiglas pulpit from which I stand behind each week also has had some “issues” this week. Until yesterday (It is now fixed thanks to Central’s able Facilities Manager and all around good guy, Ryan Forshee) the pulpit was shaky, very shaky. I think the front part of the pulpit was not connected to the back part or something like that—and last Sunday in the 8:30 service, as I was waxing eloquently I was worried that the pulpit and I were going to come crashing down into a Plexiglas and Preacher heap. Not good. I don’t consider myself a “pulpit pounding preacher,” maybe I am.

I cannot think of a scenario where there would be a connection between these two important objects in my life being broken at the same time. And while I am neither a plumber nor a fix-it-guy-- this I know: A guy wants his toilet to work. And a preacher wants his pulpit to stand tall during the worship hour.

Both items are not of much value when not doing what they were designed to do. As you know, a toilet is not a particularly comfortable chair. It’s not like I’m going to the little room just to check out the sink and the lovely decor. (For the record, I have no lovely decor in my little room.) And a pulpit that doesn’t reliably hold Bibles, sermon notes and the occasional No Doze (don’t ask)—isn’t much of value either. Toilets need to flush and pulpits need to firmly stand. That’s what they were made to do.

And people were made with a purpose too.

In Paul’s Letter to the Thessalonians, he is telling them about Jesus return and what we are to be about in the meantime. It’s an “until then” kind of statement. Until then, until Jesus returns, this is what you need to be about. This is what he writes:

On the day he comes to be glorified in his holy people and to be marveled at among all those who have believed. This includes you, because you believed our testimony to you. With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ. (2 Thessalonians 1:10-12)

Paul is telling this small band of believers—“Until then,” until Jesus returns let Him find you being “worthy of his calling.” That means fulfilling “every good purpose of yours and every act... of faith.” It means, as he goes on to say, “that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you”—that Christ is glorified in the way we live and the way we approach life.

It’s being who we were created to be. It’s doing what we were created to do. We were made to bring glory and honor to God. We weren’t created to make more money or to hit a winning golf shot; we weren’t created to sing beautifully at the Metropolitan Opera or win a Nobel Peace Prize. I was not created to preach sermons or write these articles or spend time with sick folks. Of course, we can do all of those things (and I really hope someone from Central does win a Nobel Peace Prize because how cool would that be to say “we know a Nobel laureate?). Still whatever it is that we do—we need to be doing it not for our glory but for God’s. In another place, Paul said: So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. (1 Corinthians 10:31)

You see when we are not fulfilling our purpose, when we are simply about making money so our bank account gets bigger or hitting the game winning shot so we get all the praise or singing the song so that we get the adulation—then we are a lot like a toilet that doesn’t flush. It might look good. (Seriously has anyone thought, “Now that’s a good looking toilet? But you get the idea.) We were not created to simply take up space on planet earth—we were created to bring glory to God in all we do! So let’s be who we were created to be… a people who through our actions and through our words praise the Lord!

Jesus is not a Condiment

2010-04-22T11:51:00.000-04:00

Major League baseball games are fun for a lot more than the baseball being played on the field these days. (Insert your own joke here about the team that “plays baseball” at Kaufman Stadium). If you have been out to the “K” lately then you know what I’m talking about. There are plenty of games and activities to enjoy (read: to take you mind off) Abner Doubleday’s game. There are fine eateries, a carrousel, a playground, and between innings there are fun things on the mammoth Jumbotron to occupy your attention. Some of my favorite between inning fun times are: “The Kiss Cam” (where the camera randomly finds couples and they smooch for all to see on the big screen); Slugger shooting out hotdogs from a “hot dog launcher” (As the Royals have discovered – only occasionally-- like Ralphie in “A Christmas Story”-- does Slugger shoot someone’s eye out); and of course, in between the seventh inning there is the traditional singing of “Take me out to the Ballgame.”

My favorite non-baseball activity is the Condiment Race that takes place on the massive screen. In this event, cartoon hot dogs featuring ketchup, relish or mustard race around the bases. There is as much drama as one can stand as the animated rolled bologna in a bun turns me into a hollering fool as I cheer for Mustard. I always cheer for Mustard. I relish the opportunity to cheer for Mustard hoping he will “ketchup” to the others (please accept my apology for that last sentence—even by my extremely low standards that pun was very poor).

What makes my love for the Condiment race even more curious is that I am not particularly a condiment person. Are you? Do you have to eat ketchup with your French fries? Is your hot dog not quite right without mustard? Is your taco naked without salsa? At Arby’s do you get the Horsy Sauce? At the Outback Steakhouse do you ask for A-1? Is your refrigerator filled with Soy, Tabasco, and/or Worcestershire Sauce? (I’ve long past the age limits for the National Spelling Bee Contest, but I must admit to you that I would never win anyway…it just took me about 37 tries to correctly spell “Worcestershire”… yickes!)

In admitting that I am not a condiment guy, please know that I am not opposed to condiments. I will not be attending an anti-condiment rally anytime soon. I certainly don’t look down upon those who indulge in condiments. Some of my best friends eat ketchup with their fries. I even know a person who has taken the little packets of mustard and relish and have consumed the contents on their own like they’re a tasty treat. I’ve got no problem with that. Still, simply put, I do not go out of my way for a condiment. I may eat ketchup or mustard if it happens to be on my burger, but just as easily I might eat my Oscar Mayer dog plain. Weird but true.

Who cares?

I was thinking about condiments and Jesus (it’s an occupational hazard… do I relate everything to Jesus? A lot of the time I do). Anyway, let me just write it: Jesus is not a condiment. Unfortunately, that’s how I’ve seen a lot of people approach our Lord. They might not say it, but through their life choices and their actions they convey the notion: “If I just add a little Jesus to my life-- it will make it better.” That almost sounds right too. Almost.

The problem is—rather than being consumed by Jesus, immersed in Jesus, having Jesus as their “all in all” what these “Jesus as a Condiment” people are really after is just a “squirt of Jesus” or a “teaspoon of Jesus.” They want a dash of Jesus to help them when life gets hard. They want a splash of Jesus to get them through a bad day or they really want a good dose of Jesus to help Aunt Millie’s cancer. So they call on Him to make life better, easier, and more manageable. They are not after a transformation, just a pinch of Jesus will do.

It seems to me that is not what Jesus is after in my life. He wants me--all of me. He does not want to be an add-on to simply give my life a little extra flavor—he wants to be my life. Jesus once said: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23) Shortly after saying those words, Jesus was calling people to follow him and all the people have great excuses why they could not follow him at that time: one was worried about the living conditions, another had a funeral to attend, and the last guy had other family issues. They didn’t out-right reject Christ (few people do)—they just wanted Jesus to fit into their schedule. Just a dash of Jesus is what they were after.

But Jesus wants more. Being a Christ follower is saying: I will follow Him when it is inconvenient; I will follow Him when all is well; I will follow Him when all is lousy; I will not be deterred by money, things, or other opportunities. I want Jesus’ agenda to be my agenda. I want His will to be my will. I want His goals, hopes and dreams to be my goals, hopes and dreams. It’s saying, “I do not follow Him simply so that He will make my life a little better here and there, I follow Him because Jesus is my life!”

Karla and the RipCord

2010-04-15T16:21:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow is Nazarene Night at Worlds of Fun and Karla has informed me that she would like to ride on the RipCord. If you are unfamiliar with this ride according to the Worlds of Fun website, the RipCord is “a Skycoaster attraction.” A “Skycoaster attraction” sounds like the patron is gently riding in one of those nice little high-in-the-sky, four-seater carts that travels from the near side of the amusement park to the far side, all the while the rider is enjoying a scenic view of the park and sipping on a slushy. That is NOT the RipCord. The website goes on to say the RipCord “features a 180-foot tethered free-fall. Guests wear a full body harness that supports the flyer in a prone position. The scale of flight is so dramatic that flyers accelerate to 60 - 80 miles per hour and achieve the sensation of hang gliding.” Allow me to translate: the RipCord is a death trap. It dangles you and a friend or two high above the earth, a bell sounds and the individuals are dropped like a sack of potatoes, because of this little thing called gravity (thank you Mr. Isaac Newton) the individuals fall toward Planet Earth at a speed of 9.81 meters per second squared (Thank you Mr. Mike Copeland, my 12th grade physics teacher) with the only thing keeping the thrill seekers from going splat like a bug against a windshield is a thread-- a tiny thread of bungee cord like materials. Has anyone ever had a rubber band break in their hands? I rest my case. And Karla wants to do this? Apparently so.

Moreover for this excitement one has to pay an additional fee (you read that right-- an additional fee!!!) to the normal park entrance fee. If she can find two other dumb friends (I mean, “two other adventurous friends”) to join in on the thrill-- it will cost her $18.02 plus tax. Why $18.02? I think the extra two cents is for people like me that will have given their two cents about the decision to partake in such a ride. As in, “Honey I love you, but I would prefer to not be a widower at this time.” Of course, this fee does not include the additional cost of new clothing that I would have to purchase after (let’s just say) “ruining” the ones I would have been wearing; or the additional cost of a new set of lungs after having screamed my original pair clear out of me. For all of these reasons and a probably a few more, no one will see me joining my bride on the RipCord.

The desire of Karla to ride the RipCord does not surprise me. She has indicated in the past her desire to hang glide over the ocean and parachute out of a perfectly good airplane. Adventure and Karla are like peas and carrots or ice cream and root beer—they just go together well. As for me, when it comes to rides at an amusement park, I’ll stick to the bumper cars and merry-go-rounds. Thank you very much.

Unfortunately, too many people take my non-adventurous amusement park philosophy into the rest of their life. And the result is no excitement; no thrills; no action. They seem to be content for the mundane and the uneventful. I believe God has more in store for us than that.

Faith is stepping out of our comfort zone and trusting God to do adventurous things through us. It’s going to Swaziland on a mission trip; it’s helping to serve the homeless at a rescue mission; it’s taking cookies to a neighbor and striking up a meaningful conversation; it’s sitting with the lonely person in the cafeteria; or befriending the hurting at your workplace. It’s putting ourselves in a position for God to do the extraordinary through us.

You’ve heard the cliché, “Nothing ventured; nothing gained.” It’s not in the Bible but it contains some truth. While I don’t care if that is said about my amusement park ventures, I do care if that is said about my faith ventures. I want to be a follower of Christ who will venture to new places and reach new people. I want to be a follower that says, “If you can use me Lord… Let’s go.” Like the old story about the Lord and a rider on a tandem bike, I want to say, “As long as you are leading and steering the bike, “I’m ready to go down whatever path you choose.”

Like Abraham, I want this said about me: By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he …obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. (Hebrews 11:8) I love it. He was called to go—but he didn’t know the place; he had no GPS to give him directions; he never saw the spot on a map; and he didn’t read the AAA Travel guide on the location—still Abraham was called; he “obeyed and went” and what an adventure it was!

Faith is an adventure. I’m ready to experience a God-directed thrill ride—are you?

Easter is different now

2010-04-01T14:54:00.001-04:00

Easter is different from when I was a kid. We used to get all dressed up on Easter Sunday—brand new clothes right down to our Superman underoos-- all to celebrate our Risen Lord. I guess nothing said “He’s alive” like brand new skivvies. The girls would wear new dresses, Easter bonnets and white lacy gloves. I haven’t seen an Easter bonnet in a long time.

At the church I attended we would have a sunrise service on Easter Morning-- a service at 6 AM. Which meant getting up at 4:30 AM (or earlier) so that all six in my family could use the one and only restroom in the house, get dressed, ready, and in the car by 5:30 to head to church. It didn’t take 30 minutes to get to our church (maybe five minutes), but my dad was convinced that we had to be the first ones in the church parking lot no matter what time the service started. Usually I was a little groggy singing “Up from the Grave He Arose” at 6 AM in the Sunrise service.

Following the service, we would eat breakfast in the church fellowship hall (Read: basement of the parsonage). I tried to tell Karla we needed to invite the whole church over to our basement for breakfast on Easter, she could make eggs and bacon and I would eat and talk to people—she looked like she was going to punch the Peeps right out of me for making such a suggestion.

Then we went back to church for our regular Sunday School and Easter Service. The church usually had a few more people than normal and we always sang, “He Lives.” But other than that, I don’t remember Easter Sunday worship being much different from any other Sunday Worship service. Unlike at Christmas time, the church didn’t give out boxes of candy and an orange and an apple. We just went home.

Once at the house, we would eat devilled eggs. Sometimes the white part of the devilled egg had some food coloring residue on them from our decorating the night before. I must say I was not a very good egg decorator. My eggs always had the same brownish-grey look to them. I could never do half green half purple eggs like my sisters. It seems I always dropped the whole egg into one of the food colors on accident—thereby creating the brownish-grey egg that no one wanted to eat. My mom would eat them. She was kind-hearted to her artistically challenged youngest cherub.

Mom always made ham on Easter. Never turkey. Never roast beef. We ate ham-- just like Jesus and the disciples (ummm… maybe not). And we ate bunny cake for dessert. I don’t remember my mom making a special cake for any other holiday, but every Easter she would make a white cake that looked like a rabbit. She’d stick paper bunny ears on it and sprinkle it with coconut. She’d place the bunny cake on a cookie sheet and put some dyed green coconut all around the cake on the cookie sheet to give it a grassy look and then she’d place jelly beans all around it. One year I put several black jelly beans near the back of the bunny on the dyed green coconut “grass,” my mom was not amused.

Following dinner, we’d look for our baskets and then head to relatives’ houses. Except for the fact that we couldn’t change into our “play clothes” so that my grandma and Aunt Alice could see our Easter outfits, Easter was always a good day.

Today Easter is different. No Sunrise service. No bonnets. No Bunny cake. My boys won’t be wearing new suits and ties and have shown no interest in decorating eggs. Still, I hope this remains: I pray Easter will be a good day—not because of all of those things mentioned above but because we will rejoice that Jesus is alive. His Resurrection completely changes everything. Sin and Death have been defeated. Life can be ours. Like the women who showed up at the tomb on that first Easter morning I hope we experience the exuberance of the news: "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! (Luke 24:5-6) Maybe we won’t have on a shiny new suit, but we can still proclaim “He is Risen! He is Risen indeed!”

A Goatee and Amazing Grace

2010-03-25T16:54:00.002-04:00

During Spring Break I decided to grow a goatee.

I have had a beard once before. I grew out my facial hair in order to look more “discipley” for an Easter Pageant about 15 years ago. I don’t know that the twelve disciples wore beards back in the day (The Bible never says “and Peter cutteth himself shaving and saith, “Ouchth!”)-- but it always seems that an Easter Pageant isn’t an Easter Pageant unless the “disciples” are wearing some sort of dress, have grown out their beards, and thanks to Leonardo Di Vinci are sitting on only one side of a long table. Now that I think about it, we want our disciples to look like the people some folks would avoid if they showed up in the fellowship hall for a potluck: an unshaven, cross dresser who doesn’t know about public decorum when it comes to choosing which side of a table to sit on. Strange but true.

This Easter I’m not dressing up like James the son of Alpheus or Simon the Zealot or any of the other disciples—I just decided to grow a little hair under my nose and on my chin. I’m not sure I like it.

Karla says she likes it (except when I smooch her—sorry that’s a little personal). I’ve had mixed reviews from the people in the church office (I assure you, I haven’t kissed any of them.). Still, when I look in the mirror and see a mostly grey, not completely filled, hairy upper lip and chin I think “Is that me or a Schnauzer or a slightly younger Colonel Sanders?” Mostly what I’m asking is: “Who is that guy?”
Lots of people have asked that last question about themselves—even if they do not have a goatee and look nothing like a Schnauzer. Often the question comes out after they have let themselves or someone they love down— and they’ve said: Who am I and why would I do such a thing?” Or during a time of deep introspection; when all is quiet and they can have an authentic moment to ask: “Deep down, who am I?”
When John Newton (the former slave trader and author of the hymn Amazing Grace) evaluated his life he concluded that he was a wretch, lost and blind. That evaluation isn’t just for slaver traders. In fact, the Bible says, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” In other words, when looking in the mirror and asking the question: “Who am I?” At some point, all of us will come to the same conclusion: “I am messed up and in need of a savior.”
We all know the first verse of Amazing Grace, but the second verse is powerful and strong when Newton writes:
T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
Why fear? We’ve looked in the mirror and saw the ugliness of our sin. We’ve looked in the mirror and said, “Who is that lying, secret-keeping, angry, messed up person?” We’ve seen ourselves for who we really are; we know a little bit of God’s demands for holiness and righteousness; and have reached the conclusion, “I am in deep trouble. I am hopeless. I am lost.” Grace has taught my heart to fear… but (here comes the good news from the cross…)
And Grace, my fears relieved.In Jesus’ Amazing Grace on the cross—He took care of my worries, forgave my sin, renewed my hope and relieved my fears!

How precious did that Grace appear
How wonderful, how glorious, how precious to know all our sins (not in part, but the whole) are nailed to the cross and we bare it no more! In Jesus’ act of love on the cross we have hope and life and healing and help!

The hour I first believed.

The moment we discover that our sins have been forgiven; our hearts are clean; and our hope is restored is the single greatest moment of all!
Next week is Holy Week and we will be looking anew at the events leading to Jesus’ death and resurrection. We will be looking again at the cross. And one of the outcomes of seriously looking at the price that Jesus paid for our salvation is that we see the ugliness of sin. We see humankind at its worst. But when really honest (seriously looking at the mirror) we also see the ugliness of our sin. It’s looking at the cross and concluding: I’m no different. I’m no different from the fraidy cat disciples who abandoned Jesus. I’m no different from the pompous religious windbags. I’m no different from the angry mob. In fact, it was my sin, my burdens, my mess that put Jesus on the cross too. Like in Newton’s song, we not only see our grotesque sinfulness but at the cross we also see the love and the amazing grace of God. In the cross we see a God who keeps His promises and a God that will stop at nothing to offer His great love even to great sinners. No matter how messed up, no matter how confused, no matter who is looking back in the mirror Jesus says, “You can be forgiven and have life again.”

I don’t know if I will have the goatee when you see me on Sunday or not, but I know this: God’s grace is amazing—we will be celebrating it this week.

22 Happy Years

2010-03-11T10:47:00.000-05:00

Twenty two years ago tomorrow, Karla and I were married at the Westland Church of the Nazarene in Westland, Michigan. It was a rainy spring morning on March 12, 1988, but when we came out of the church newly hitched, the afternoon sun was out and a rainbow was in the sky (we took that as a sign that there would be no floods in our marriage. If you count water in the basement as a “flood” then we’ve had a few, but if by flood you mean gathering animals and building a big boat—that hasn’t happened….yet).

Since that Saturday in March of 1988, Karla and I have had two boys, five dogs, two hermit crabs and a few dozen fish. We have lived in six homes in three different states and have owned ten cars, one snowmobile, a riding lawn mower and several bikes. We have endured two C-sections, a gall bladder surgery (Karla), a tonsillectomy (Ben), broken collar bone (Alex) and a subarachnoid hemorrhage (Rob).
There have been great days and lousy ones. I guess you could say there were days that could be characterized as some better, some worse; some richer, some poorer; some with sickness and some with health.

Because of my profession, Karla has had to put up with having family stories told (and written) to an entire congregation; a husband that has been known to keep crazy hours and has had to rearrange family schedules because of crisis, funerals and other pastorally things; and has lived life under the microscope known as “pastor’s wife.” She has sacrificed career, proximity to her family, and never sitting in a worship service with her spouse (truth be told, because of my singing skills, I think she is OK with that aspect of being a pastor’s wife).

And all I got out of the deal was a wife who is handier than Bob Villa, prettier than a Zooma, the beauty queen, and wittier than Ethel Merman (although that’s not saying much because I was never an Ethel Merman fan. “Who’s Ethel Merman,” you say. “Exactly!” is my response. ). In other words, I married up. Way up.
We haven’t the marriage longevity of some but we have lasted more than others. We are not the perfect couple and our marriage has not been perfect— but I cannot imagine being married to anyone else and in my totally biased eyes, Karla is the perfect woman for me.

On our wedding day, my friend Mark Parker (now the HR Director at the Nazarene Publishing House) sang the old hymn, Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us. If you haven’t sung it in a while, the words go like this:
Savior, like a shepherd lead us; much we need thy tender care.
In thy pleasant pastures feed us; For our use Thy folds prepare.
Blessed Jesus, Blessed Jesus! Thou hast bought us; Thine we are.
Blessed Jesus, Blessed Jesus! Thou hast bought us; Thine we are.

Well, it’s been 22 years since I saw my bride walking down the aisle and hearing that song sung. And like Samuel as he raised the rock that he called Ebenezer (1 Samuel 7)—I can say, “Hitherto God has helped us.” God has been faithful. He has led us. He has fed us. He has cared for us. We were His on our wedding day, and we still are His all these years later. I cannot tell you how thankful I am for these past 22 years.

It is my prayer that all of our marriages can be like the one I have experienced. Where God has led, God has blessed and God has been honored. I hope that all of our marriages recognize that whether times are better or worse, God will “still like a Shepherd lead us” if we allow him to lead.

It's been a year

2010-03-09T08:00:00.000-05:00

A year ago today, my dad took his first steps in heaven. I’m no heaven expert. Don’t know a lot of the details—I can’t tell you for sure what all he has done this past year. Did he go fishing in the crystal sea? My dad wasn’t much of a fisherman. Did he examine his mansion? My dad really wasn’t much into big houses either. Did he enjoy the heavenly banquet? If it included pizza and Neapolitan ice cream, he probably did. I think just being with Jesus was enough for him, if my dad could just hang out with the One who completely and forever rescued him—then I think he had the best year imaginable.

Looking forward to see Jesus and my dad again one day.

Jesus said, "You make me sick!"

2010-03-08T16:52:00.001-05:00

What is the worst thing that Jesus could say to a church? Think about it. Of all the things Jesus could say—what would be the worst?

Try this on for size: “You make me sick!”

That would be pretty bad, wouldn’t it?

Have you ever told that to someone? I can’t remember a time when someone so upset me that I uttered those words. I know I’ve thought it a few times. I’ve read about some terrible and disgusting criminal offense and I’ve thought, “That’s sick” or “we live in a sick world.”

We all know that Jesus had some serious public disagreements with the Pharisees but he never tells them, “You make me sick.” To the insulting people at Golgotha or to those people who beat him or spat on him and taunted him he does not say, “you sicken me, you nauseate me.” But He does say those words to a group—to a church group, no less. This is how the Message version reads Jesus words: “I know you inside and out, and find little to my liking. You’re not cold. You’re not hot— far better to be either cold or hot! You’re stale. You’re stagnant. You make me want to vomit.” (You might recognize that those are the words he tells the Church at Laodicea in Revelation 3.)

OK here’s what worries me, while God is doing great things in our world (i.e the Horn of Africa, India, China)—the church in the USA can at best (at Best? I think that is accurate) be described as “stale” and “stagnant.” Our methods are old. We aren’t reaching many people. Revival is not occurring. (I know these are generalizations, but for the great majority of places and a great majority of churches these facts are very true).

So here’s my point-- what are we doing about it? I do not want to be stale. I have no desire to be stagnant. And I certainly do not want our Lord saying to us, “You make me want to vomit.” So what are we going to do about it?

It seems to me that we have two choices: 1) Act like Jesus didn’t say these words and be OK with the fact that we live in a spiritually stale and stagnant land; or 2) Decide to be part of the solution and take an “All out” and “Whatever-it-takes” approach to providing new, alive, growing, prayerful, ministry.

I beg you to join with me as we begin to explore what this means. Just in case you are wondering, I think it has everything to do with lighting candles in the darkness (and not hanging more chandeliers in the fellowship hall). It has everything to do with stepping out in faith, being risky, and not burying the blessings that God has given us. In has everything to do with not being satisfied with the status quo and determining we have this one life to make a difference and then going about (through God’s enabling) to make more and better disciples. Join me…. in this Great Adventure.

Finally a Shorts Day!

2010-03-05T20:14:00.002-05:00

The weatherman said today was the warmest in KC in three months.... I wore shorts all day long! Come O Summer Come!

In Like a Lion (not a Detroit Lion)

2010-03-05T20:08:00.000-05:00

March is here and today the temperature in Kansas City is to be in the sunny 50’s. Hooray! The weather story about March is that if it comes in like a lion it goes out like a lamb (and vice versa). Since this week has been pretty tame – you might expect that the end of the month could be trouble. But maybe not…

As most of you know, I am from the city of Detroit, home of the Detroit Lions. Believe me, I know a thing or two about those Lions. I suffered through the 0-16 season (the only 16 game winless season in NFL history). I remember such notable head coaches as Tommy Hudspeth, Darryl Rogers, and Rick Forzano. “Who?” you ask. Exactly my point. In my lifetime the Lions have won exactly one playoff game (in 1991). I know the Lions. So if our month’s meteorology is going to go out like those Lions then I think it will mean-- that we will have little organization, little aggression, and little worry of anything even remotely close to a mean storm. In fact if the Detroit Lions were playing the lambs (and I was a betting man), I’d put my money on the lambs. As a lamb might say, “The Lions are baaaaaaaaaaad!”

Of course, as anyone who ever watched Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom with Marlin Perkins knows (Remember that show? Now that was must see TV!): it’s not supposed to be that way. Lions mutilate lambs. It’s not even close to a fair fight. Lions chase them down, beat them up and conclude the evening with a tasty leg of lamb dinner. Lambs have no chance against a ferocious lion. That’s just the way it is.

Of course, that is also what makes Isaiah’s comments so compelling when he wrote that the lion and the lamb would lie down together—in the new kingdom. In Isaiah’s vision, the kingdom of God would be characterized when one time enemies like lions and lambs are friends. The community that God is building is one where the old rules die and new hopes and dreams become alive.

It seems that God’s plan for His people is to be a community where age, race, background, economics, nationality and/or any of other barriers that sometime might exist between people come crashing down through Jesus Christ. We are to enjoy a common bond in Christ—that is bigger and stronger than any other loyalty or any other bond. Can I just say it—I long for those types of relationships and that type of community. Because this I know, when the storms of life come (whether it’s in March or any other month) through Christ and his people, we will overcome!

COLLIDE RECAP

2010-03-04T11:10:00.001-05:00

Whew, what a week it has been.

It’s Thursday morning as I am typing this and out of the last 100 hours, I have been at the church or doing church work for 62 of those hours. From Sunday morning at 6 AM until this very minute—it’s been busy, busy, busy. That’s what a week of COLLIDE will do for a guy. Of course I am not the only one that has been doing double duty this week. There are so many people to thank that helped make COLLIDE a HUGE success. Check this out (In listing all of these names, I am sure I will leave someone out… so in advance, I am sorry!):

In the Crisis Care Kit room: Ruth Ann and Riley Clark; Courtney Conant; Bethanie Rhodes; and Lexie and Jon North. They led us in putting together 845 Crisis Care Kits for Haiti!!!

In the Letter Writing Room: Forest and Amanda Fisk. Around 100 Notes were written!
In the Nursing Home Encouragement Basket Room: Sarah Foster. Baskets for 200 nursing home patients were made!

In the kitchen making our scrumptious dinners: Dan and Carissa Case, Clair and Michelle Plummer; Carly, Craig and Laurie Doane; Bethanie, Mattie, Harrison and Dee Dee Sills; Laura Clark, Glen Dikes and Karla Prince. This team of faithful workers came in hours early and prepared so that at exactly 6:30 we would be ready for a hot and tasty meal. They did great!!!

Our Left-Over Blessing Person: Elaine Saner took our left-overs to thankful families who couldn’t get out because of sickness of one kind or another.

Our counters: Keith Davis and Mark Hotle

Our Greeters: Jeff and Leslilee Stevens, Linda and Randy Downing; Lee and Christin Phillips; Pam and Brad Mohr; Jerry Brockhaus; Keith Davis; Clinton and Courtney Conant; Chris Carnaghi; and Mark Hotle.

Our Hostesses with the Mostess: Kathy Saunders and Joni Davis
All around great help: secretaries—Brenda Crow; Kathy Patchen, Pam Plummer and Sylvia Emrich

Our Janitorial and Facilities Crew: Ryan Forshee, Joe Hoffman; Sonya Barnes, Tanner Stevens and Eric Bowles

Our Folks working the nursery area: Brenda and Matt Crow, Alisa Whitacre, Hyon Clark, Andrea Hodgson, Shalyn Smith, Mollie Wilson, Tiffany Zehr, Karen McCoonse, Molly Hotle, Beth Kirk, and JoAnne Myers.

Our Business manager: Joy Hartke

And of course, thanks to all of our pastors who provided great teaching every night and Rodney Kilgore, Erica Hudson and Kelsy Ryan who led in worship before communion.
And there are so many more that lent a hand right when we needed it! Thanks!!! COLLIDE week went great!

If you were counting, that’s 73 people working together in one way or another to make it a great week! Way to go Central Nazarene!!!

COLLIDE by the numbers

2010-03-04T07:45:00.003-05:00

845....Crisis Care Kits assembled (WOW! That's double last year's total)
200....Encouragement Baskets for Nursing Homes made
100....Notes to Homebound People
1200...Meals served during the 4 days of Collide

COLLIDE update

2010-03-02T07:52:00.000-05:00

Two nights of COLLIDE are done, two to go. Last night over 300 people gathered and we once again had great food (Thanks Dan and crew!), great teaching time (Thanks Pastor Kevin and Pastor Molly); great service projects (in the Crisis Care Kit area—we have put together over 500 kits in two nights—WOW!!!!); and a great time of communion!

The Church family is growing, learning, loving… it’s behaving like the church! Yippeee!

Come out tonight at 6:30… and we need more SHAMPOO, HAND TOWELS, and COMBS for the Crisis Care kits. Bring some if you can!

No Varooooooom

2010-02-25T15:47:00.001-05:00

Alex’s car wouldn’t start this week. The problem wasn’t a bad battery or a broken starter. There was plenty of gas in the tank. The problem was that the ignition key wouldn’t turn. It was stuck. Really stuck.

Now if the situation were on my car I could understand someone thinking that the key turner (that’s me) was experiencing a lack of muscular fortitude. No one has ever confused me of being a Mr. Universe candidate. My muscle tone (or lack thereof) was always more like the “before” picture on the gym advertisements rather than the “after” picture. But this was Alex’s car and Alex’s muscles. He tried. I tried. Even the most mechanical in our house, Karla, tried—all to no avail. The key would not budge. We jiggled it. We bought some stuff to spray into the key hole. It still wouldn’t turn. We turned the steering wheel. We kicked the tires. (I don’t know why we thought kicking the tires might make the key move—it didn’t). Nothing worked. If I didn’t know better I would have thought the key was singing that old Sunday School chorus, “I shall not be… I shall not be moved.”

While I am neither a mechanic nor the son of a mechanic this was a new problem to me. I guess I’ve always taken for granted that a key properly placed in the ignition would turn. Usually the car has made a varoooom sound following turning the key and occasionally it does not make a varooooom sound after turning the key (I hope all of this technical automotive lingo is not going over anyone’s head), but the key has always turned. Or so I thought.

Not on Alex’s car. No turning of the key. No varoooom. No driving for Alex.

Eventually, the car had to be towed into the shop where a new key turner thing-a-ma-bob (again, I hope this isn’t too technical for you) was installed. The key now turns. The car now starts. And while his bank account is a little lighter than it was a day ago, Alex has his wheels and life is back to normal.

I think we take for granted a lot of things in life besides the ignition key turning in our cars—especially we Americans that have heated homes, full refrigerators and healthy teenagers (albeit upset ones when their car is stuck on the driveway).

In the past week, I’ve been in contact in one way or another with plenty of people and situations where I’ve walked away with the lesson of not taking things or people or life for granted. For example…

• A family where the dad died at age 45. I’ve learned-- don’t take life for granted.
• A healthy college student hospitalized with a mystery illness. Don’t take health for granted.
• A lady younger than me battling cancer for a third time. Same lesson as above.
• A divorced dad juggling schedules of a “dual homed” family. Don’t take family for granted.
• A divorced mom struggling with kid issues. Don’t take Karla for granted.
• An unemployed man trying to make ends meet. Don’t take jobs for granted.
• People utilizing our food pantry. Don’t take food for granted.
• Our furnace broke: Don’t take heat for granted.
• Our washing machine broke too: Don’t take clean clothes for granted.
• We are assembling 700 Crisis care kits next week for Heart to Heart: Don’t take the basic necessities of life for granted.

You get the idea. It is so easy to overlook the everyday blessings in life. It is so easy to take for granted people. It’s easy to focus on irritants (see above comments about broken cars, furnaces and washing machines) instead of being thankful for the money to repair the car or appreciative of the friends that help when stuff is broken.

I’ve quoted it before, but I guess I need another reminder this week from Paul, maybe you do to: I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:11-13).

COLLIDE POSTPONED

2010-02-21T16:58:00.001-05:00

You cannot know how much it pained me to postpone COLLIDE for a week. Michiganders do not postpone for the little bit of snow and ice we had (maybe I’m becoming a Kansan after all). But I thought it was too important of an even to have a third of a crowd at tonight. We really need our Seniors here to make this event a success and I was afraid they and others would not venture out on the roads. So next week….

The eye doctor

2010-02-19T21:46:00.001-05:00

I went to the eye doctor today. I knew he would either give me a new prescription for a new set of glasses or put me on the rack to stretch my arms a few more inches.

I guess they don’t use a rack anymore. I’ve got a new Rx for some new glasses.

Karla says I should get some hip new glasses that will make me look twenty years younger. For that I told her—I wouldn’t need new glasses, she would need to get rid of hers.

The Church that became a Doctor's Office

2010-02-18T17:25:00.001-05:00

The little church that I attended as a child never grew much. As I recall, we tried to grow. We had Sunday school drives, revival services, and one time we brought in a “Christian” clown. There were special “singspirations,” Christian Movie nights (cinematic “classics” like Thief in the Night and The Cross and the Switchblade were played) and an “old fashion” Sunday where people would dress up like during the pioneer days. Efforts to reach the lost and troubled were made—but nothing worked much. I guess the unchurched folks in Michigan didn’t want to be entertained by a Bible verse quoting Bozo the Clown or dress like Laura Ingalls. Who knew? Today the church is a doctor’s office and most of the members are either in heaven, moved away or have found a new church to attend.

I guess that happens to some churches.

There are reasons it didn’t grow. But I was too young to know most of those reasons. I remember that a preacher or two left because of questionable morals. And I’m sure we had more than our share of church going folks that didn’t always behave the best either. There are reasons the church is a doctor’s office today.

Sometimes we had children’s church, but usually we didn’t. I sat in big people’s church because there wasn’t a “little people’s church.” By the time I was in high school the youth group dwindled down to me (which made planning youth activities pretty easy). Usually the youth group activity planning committee went like this:

Me: “Where does the youth group want to go tonight?”
Me: “I think I’m going to McDonalds.”
Me: All in favor of the motion to go to McDonald’s say “Eye”
Me: “Eye”

Maybe some would look back at the church that is now a doctor’s office and say: “What a failure.”

I guess I don’t view it that way.

I can’t speak for anyone else who attended the Elmwood Church of the Nazarene except for me ((a.k.a the entire youth group)—and of course I was young, and it was 30 years ago (my memory might be fuzzy)), still I have many fond memories of those days. The handful of members taught me some important life lessons:

Mr. Kipp: Always had candy in his pockets for the kids. The lesson learned: Boys and girls matter to Jesus.

Brother Bond (we called some of the older believers “brother.” I’m not exactly sure at what age one made the crossover from “Mr.” or “Mrs.” to “Brother” or “Sister” but “Brother Bond” was old): He helped me with more than one school wood-working project. Lesson Learn: Helping children with school projects is part of being in the family of God.

Mrs. Buckley: I mowed her lawn. She always called me Freddy (my brother). Lesson learned: Mrs. Buckley had a bad memory.

Nell Norton: Piano Player. As my memory has it, she played most songs a little slow—except for Wonderful Grace of Jesus—she raced through that one. I liked singing Wonderful Grace of Jesus. Lesson learned: God can use your gifts whatever talent you have.

Mary Vail (my Junior Boys and Jr. High Sunday School teacher. Mary got promoted when I did): I have memories of fancy restaurants and baseball games with Mary. Again, I don’t remember any specific lesson ever taught—but I do remember that she cared for the kids in her class. Lesson learned: Junior Highers matter to God.

Norm Norton (my Sr. High Sunday School Teacher, and husband to Nell): he put up with a smarty pants church kid who was sometimes bored, sometimes mouthy, sometimes not the best student—and all Norm did was patiently teach with humor and grace. Lesson learned: Teenagers matter to Jesus.

I remember Mrs. Van Dyne’s meatloaf (Lesson learned: Nazarene’s are good cooks) and Norm Fisher’s haircuts (Lesson learned: Maybe the original “Nazarene” had long hair, but the ones in the 1960’s definitely did not). There was Brother Sexton singing with his guitar (before guitar playing in church was considered “contemporary”) and Aunt Myrtle getting pinched by the rickety old theatre seats and letting out a holler (everyone thought she was getting a blessing from the Lord. Sometimes they sounded similar from Aunt Myrtle, I suppose).

All this to say, my home church was small; never grew; and probably could have done a whole lot better in reaching people with the gospel—still the lessons I learned were that followers of Christ loved boys and girls and teenagers too. I learned that the church is meant to be a family that cares for one another. Old people and young people can share in life together—all of that’s a good thing. I honestly don’t know if I’d be pastoring today if it weren’t for some of those good influences in my life.

Last Night's Board Meeting

2010-02-17T08:12:00.003-05:00

We had a long board meeting last night. Somethings had to be done: Tweaking our Child Protection Policy; approving those ministers in the credentialing process; treasurer's reports, etc.

But we also were able to talk about things just on the horizon that are really exciting-- "lighting candles in the darkness" stuff; getting every single ministry involved in Making More and Better Disciples; creating a means to share the success stories; and later in a committee meeting-- making plans for the Central Leadership Academy.

So thankful for a Christ-led board of leaders!

Preaching sick.

2010-02-15T10:42:00.002-05:00

Preached sick yesterday... that's never good. But God gave the strength and we made it through.Our tech guys videoed the first service just in case I couldn't go in the second service-- it would have been the first video of a sermon at Central, but we didn't need it.

Seussapaloosa is done. Next up: GOLGOTHA: Objects from the Hill

COLLIDE is Coming

2010-02-10T08:05:00.001-05:00

The Pastoral Team of Central is working on COLLIDE this morning: our inter-generational All- Church Worship and Service event that begins on February 21 and ends February 24.

This week is perfect for making Better Disciples (one of Central Primary Objectives) as we learn from one another-- Old and Young alike. We need everyone participating as we eat together, learn together, serve together and end each gathering with the communion.

I can’t wait! Plan on a great week!

Free Grand Slam

2010-02-09T09:34:00.002-05:00

This morning I ate my free post Super Bowl Grand Slam breakfast from Denny's. Last year Ben went with me-- this year he decided it was too early for free food. I almost didn't go-- but the cheap side of me won the discussion in my mind-- and I found myself eating the eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes. Yum. Free is good!

NTS Chapel

2010-02-08T17:07:00.003-05:00

It's been a while since I was in a chapel service at the seminary. (I admitted that I think I doubled my attendance from my seminary days). Still it was great being with the students-- who were very responsive to the message I shared. I am so thankful for my seminary days and the lessons learned both within those walls and outside of them.

Rememberin' Rasslin'

2010-02-05T09:57:00.000-05:00

Todd Morgan (one of Central’s finest youth and a senior at Olathe East) was featured in a newspaper article recently. The article told how he is wrestling well for the East wrestling team and how hard Todd works. The article made me proud to know him; it also reminded me of my “rasslin’ days” (as my grandfather would have said).

You did not misread that last paragraph. I wrestled during my junior year in high school. Unlike Todd, I didn’t have newspaper articles written about my skills or my work ethic on the wrestling mat. No one was worried that I was going to become the next Hulk Hogan. I had no signature move like some of the WWE “rasslers.”

As I recall I was not a particularly good wrestler (shocker #1!). I wrestled in the 105 weight class and I didn’t need to lose weight to get there. I could have wrestled in the 98 pound class but the other 98 pounder in my school was a beast. Can a 98 pounder be a beast? Well, he was scrappy and he beat me every time in practice. So I moved up to the 105 weight class where I thought I would have a better chance of competing. I am not sure I did any better—instead of getting pounded by a 98 pound kid from my school in practice; I got pounded by 105 pound kids from other schools at the meets.

I am not sure why I decided to go out for the wrestling team. It was not because I looked good in the “uni-tard” and head gear that wrestlers are required to wear. It’s not that I had a best friend on the wrestling team that talked me into getting beat to a pulp every other day. It’s not because I wanted to impress the girls—no one showed up at our wrestling matches but a few parents. (I don’t recall my folks being at the matches but I am sure they were there. I imagine them sitting in the bleachers and finding time in the 42 seconds before I was pinned to say, “See that skinny kid who’s twisted like a pretzel? That’s our boy.” They had to be so proud.) As a matter of fact, I only wrestled half the year because of an injury (see above comment about being twisted like a pretzel and this becomes shocker #2). Still, for that half of a season I wrestled for the Fighting Tigers of Garden City West High School. I made the team; competed in a few tournaments with mixed results (read: lost nearly all of them) and soon put my uni-tard and the wrestling mat behind me.

Why the wrestling confessional?

When I look back on those days, I remember the hard work of getting in shape. I remember working out in practice. I remember the uni-tard, headgear and wrestling shoes. I even remember a few of the agony of defeats. But don’t remember much else. I don’t remember my coach’s name. I don’t remember most of the other wrestlers on the team. I don’t even remember the all too few victories.

Time has a way of blurring our memory. We tend to forget both the good and the bad stuff of our lives. I think that’s OK--especially as it relates to the bad stuff. We all have had bad stuff happen in our lives. We all have things that we wish we would not have done, and/or we have had things done to us that we wish had never happened.

One thing about the past—it’s past. And for the most part, we need to let it go. Obviously, there are some things that have happened to some people that are so deep and painful that they need help and counseling and the Lord’s miraculous healing touch to let those things go. I get that. Still we need to let it go.

And by the way, even the good things, we need to leave in the past. If I had been a great high school athlete—I would not want a “Hail Mary Touchdown or a Walk-Off home run” to be the defining moment of my life. I’ve lived nearly 30 years since my high school days; I don’t want to say that the greatest thing that ever happened to me was 30 years ago. When I am 102 (if the Lord let’s me live that long), I do not want to look back at some glory years in the “sweet by and by,” instead I want to be able to say: God is still doing great things in my life. Today is the day that the Lord has made! Our yesterday may have been great, but I always want to be living for a great new day!

I love Paul’s words to the Philippians: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:13-14). I pray that I am always pressing on toward Christ—whether wearing a uni-tard or jeans or a suit and tie I want to be moving forward! (Ok, I have left the uni-tard permanently behind).

Guard Rails and Speed Bumps

2010-01-28T11:46:00.000-05:00

If you drive onto the hallowed grounds of Central Church this Sunday via the west entrance you will notice that there will be a shiny new guard rail where there was once only rocks and shrubbery. Moreover, in the next week or two there will also be a couple of speed bumps were there was once only smooth pavement.

Why the guard rail and speed bumps?

As you know, at the end of the hairpin turn that is the west entrance there is a ten to fifteen foot drop into a beautiful retaining pond that is usually less “pond” and more mud. Unfortunately over the years not only has there been mud, native Kansan grasses and occasionally water in our “pond,” there has also been a Toyota and a Ford. Don McLean could have sung: “We have a Chevy in our levy.” Down through the years, a few drivers thinking of themselves as Mario Andretti on the streets of Monte Carlo have gone too fast, and subsequently went “over the hilltops and through the woods” landing not at grandmother’s house but in the mud at the bottom of our retention pond.

We have tried to encourage slower speeds. Last summer when we resurfaced the parking lot, the parking lot resurfacing guys put into the tar mixture a “secret ingredient” (read: a handful or two of sand) that was supposed to make the entrance a little less slick. I’m not a “parking-lot-ologist” and I do not recall how much extra we paid for the “secret ingredient” but it is safe to say—it didn’t quite do the trick. We spray painted on the pavement the word “SLOW.” Apparently, the wannabe racers do not read. We have put up signs that say “No thru traffic” (Maybe we needed to be more specific by having them read: “Hey Speed Racer! If you are passing through our parking lot because you are trying to avoid the traffic light at Rosehill and 87th Street we would prefer that you not use our parking lot as a short cut. But if you must go through our parking lot-- please do not race around the corner or you will end up in our retention pond and that will not make us happy one bit and we might even wish a pestilence of Biblical proportions to besiege thy underarms—all in a Christian kind of way.” Of course, that’s a lot of words to put on a road sign and besides, if the would-be speedy short cut drivers can’t read the word “SLOW” could we really expect them to comprehend “Pestilence”? Probably not.

In all humility, I must tell you that I have driven on the west entrance as much as anyone in the last four and one half years. And not one time, not once, have I even bumped the curb. Please do not take this to mean that I am bragging of my driving prowess (my garage door, the lady driver in her 2004 Ford Mustang who mysteriously appeared behind me as I was backing out of a space in Hy-Vee’s parking lot, and my insurance agent will confirm that I drive more like a demolition driver than a NASCAR driver), still I have not taken “Black Betty” (my 2002 Chevy Impala) flying off the edge. I am not sure how drivers end up in the waterless pond at the end of the west entrance… but they do.

So tomorrow we will have rails and next week bumps (Sounds like a medical condition, doesn’t it?). I am not a fan of rails and bumps. I wish we didn’t have to take such measures. But I am also not a fan of cars at the bottom of the west entrance. It really causes an ethical dilemma to our Sunday School counters (If they intended on being in Sunday School and they are on church property do they count in Sunday School if they are sitting at the bottom of the church’s retention pond?) Sometimes, the best way to avoid trouble is to put in road blocks and guard rails and speed bumps that force one to slow down and stay on the right road.

What is true on our west entrance is also true in life. Sometimes we need to build in guard rails and speed bumps into our life. If life has been more like a rat race lately (emphasis on the word “race”), then put in a necessary speed bump you might slow down and enjoy the important things in life. And if unwanted worries, habits and temptations are trying to creep into your life, build a guard rail.

Jesus said to guard against hypocrisy (Luke 12:1) and greed (Luke 12:15), and Paul simply said, “Be on your guard.” (1 Corinthians 13:16). To guard one’s heart and mind takes some intentionality. It doesn’t just happen. It’s not wishful thinking. If we sat around and said, “I sure hope no more cars go into our pond,” more than likely next week we’d be pulling out another Honda. And if you say, “I sure hope the sin that always is messing me up doesn’t tempt me anymore” then more than likely before long you will fall into the same old ugly pattern. So build a guard rail. Don’t go to that website. Don’t visit that store. Don’t wallow in that bitterness. Don’t dwell on that discouragement. Don’t put yourself in a place where you will fall off the same cliff again and again.

When the pace of life is going a little too fast, speed bumps are necessary tools to keep us on the right road. And when bad habits and temptations are trying to gain entrance into our life, guard rails can keep us out of the mud. All this to say, our west entrance isn’t the only place where guard rails and speed bumps are needed!

Ready

2010-01-23T17:50:00.000-05:00

After taking a week away from the computer and the church—I had my annual COK meeting with pastor friends from around the country—I am back. Ready to preach tomorrow. Ready to blog some this week. Ready to tackle the week ahead. Ready to storm the gates of hell and do great things for God!

De-Cluttering Our Lives

2010-01-14T11:58:00.000-05:00

(Written at 6 AM on Tuesday Morning)
I like a clean desk. I think I work better with a clean desk. The cliché is not biblical but it sounds like it: “Cleanliness is next to godliness.” So why is my desk so messy?

Currently on my desk are the following items:
• a wrapper from the new computer keyboard I had to purchase (I think the old one might have gotten messed up from crumbs and other assorted things being dropped on it—possibly from eating too many snacks at my desk these last four plus years. Shhhh… to tell our tech guys at church or Karla),
• last Sunday’s worship folder,
• the Michigan license plate holder I received for Christmas three weeks ago (You might be asking: “What’s a license plate holder doing on your desk? It is supposed to be on a car, not on a desk.” Good question.),
• a Christmas card,
• a rock—it was from a sermon I preached where the rock was meant to be like an altar to remind me of the blessings of God. I almost didn’t see it because it was buried underneath a bunch of stuff. (Hmmm… I think there is another sermon in there…)
• a thank you note,
• housing receipts from the last year,
• several books that I used for last Sunday’s sermon,
• the electric outlet adapter set that my friend Mark Lail loaned me for the mission trip to Africa (OK, that’s really bad—it has been sitting on my desk ready to return to Mark since June—JUNE!!!!-- Mark, I apologize and will return it to you soon!),
• napkins from yesterday’s breakfast of champions (a McDonald’s sausage burrito),
• (In the gross but true category) I see lurking behind my computer monitor a finger nail that I clipped who knows when—it’s just laying there laughing at me.
• the wedding program from last Friday’s wedding,
• a McDonald’s “States Avenue” game piece from the Monopoly game from last fall (I didn’t even play the game, I never play those games. So why do I have a game piece on my desk and who put it there?),
• other assorted books, notes, reports and two copies of last Sunday’s sermon—all that should have been filed long before now.
Why do I have junk on my desk, when I really work better with no junk on my desk? I didn’t wake up one morning and say, “”Hmmm… I think I would like to pile my desk high with stuff.” No, it happened one wrapper, one book, and one report at a time.

My desk became messy, the same way that our lives get too cluttered. No one starts out and says, “Wow, I would really like a too busy life: too busy for my family, too busy for devotion time with God, too busy to be effective at work, too busy to look after my health. Being too busy is good.” Who says that? No one I know.

But many of us are too busy. We add something here and something there. Usually they are good things. We have trouble saying “No.” We like to please people—again who doesn’t? So we say yes to this project and yes to the kids wanting to be in bazillion different activities, and then there is the church stuff that we “have to do,” and blah, blah, blah. Until we wake up one morning exhausted from our cluttered life.

Maybe there is a better way.

(Written at 7 AM on Thursday morning)
My desk is cleaner now. The junk has been tossed (including the McDonald’s game piece and the finger nail—who’s laughing now!); the books are where they belong, the adapter is still there but soon Mark will have it returned to him. I feel much better with a cleaner, tidier desk. I am sure I will be more productive!

How did I clean it up? The same way I messed it up—only in reverse. I took care of one item at a time. How will you un-clutter your life—same way: One item at a time.

David recognized that we have this one life to live (sounds like a soap opera), when he wrote:
“LORD, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.
Remind me that my days are numbered—
how fleeting my life is.
5 You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand.
My entire lifetime is just a moment to you;
at best, each of us is but a breath.” Psalm 39:4-5 NLT

Today you will have 24 hours. Me too. Let’s not try to cram 28 hours into our day, instead let’s do the important things, let go of the unimportant and in all things live our lives to the glory of God.

Something to Think about…

2010-01-11T09:23:00.002-05:00

Yesterday in the Green Eggs and Ham Sermon, I touched on the issue that I think happens too often for believers who have been on the “inside” for a while. That is-- viewing others as on the “outside.” It is so easy to forget from where we have come. It is easy to lose track of the fact that had God not stepped into our lives we’d be just as messed up as they are. It is easy to become enamored with our standing or our position or even our Christian walk—instead of being enamored by the One who made us well and has given us “every good and perfect gift.”

Let’s be enamored by Jesus. Let’s not forget (as the exiled nation of Israel forgot) that we have been redeemed from nothing and became something. God has made us beautiful, but let’s not love our beauty more than the One that makes us beautiful.

Baby, its cold outside!

2010-01-06T15:00:00.000-05:00

Baby, its cold outside!

Usually when I make such a comment my Kansas friends say something like “You are from Michigan; you are supposed to like this kind of weather.” As if all Michigan babies were born in an igloo, used icicles as pacifiers and had snowmen as their obstetricians.

I like to point out that I moved away from the frozen tundra.

Still because of my 40 years as a resident in the Winter Wonderland known as Michigan, I feel that I am qualified to give my non-snow loving Kansas friends a few tips for dealing with the weather we are experiencing.

1) To school administrators: Do not close the schools when you think there might be snow. How is it that Shawnee Mission cancelled school today? As my friend and former Michigan resident Pastor Andy pointed out on his Facebook status: “I can't believe I live in a place that cancels school because a threat of a few inches of snow--- really Kansas? If that was the case in Michigan I'd still be in the 9th grade from snow days.” Preach it, Andy, my brother!

2) To politicians and city planners: You might want to put in the budget enough money to cover more than one snow fall. I know times are tight, but seriously if your snow removal budget is blown before Elvis Pressley’s Birthday (January 8th, of course) then don’t be surprised if your constituents are “All shook up!”

3) To drivers: When there is a dusting of snow on the road, of course, I want you to be careful. But driving 22 miles an hour on a mostly clear highway with only a few snowflakes on it makes you more of a hazard than the two little snowflakes!

4) To drivers (part 2): When coming in the church’s west entrance, it is advisable to go a little slow if the ramp is snow covered. That is neither the time nor the place to think you are James Bond on the streets of Monte Carlo trying to elude the KGB. You will go over the embankment and down the retaining wall and into the frozen pit below. And that is not a good place for a pretend spy in His Royal Majesty’s Service to be.

5) To homeowners: Snowy walks and driveways are meant to be shoveled. That’s why Wal-Mart sells snow shovels and that’s why I have teenage sons. If you do not have the benefit of teenage sons I suggest you rent one for an hour. In renting a teenager, you get all the benefits and none of the hassles, grocery bills or requests for the car keys.

6) To children: Yellow snow is not lemon flavored.

7) To weather forecasters: Two inches of snow is not a blizzard. It is not one of the signs of the apocalypse. It is not necessary to have round the clock emergency coverage. Please, I beg you… end the drama!

8) To everyone crabby about the fluffy white stuff: Take a good look outside and remember the words from Isaiah 1: "Come now, let us reason together," says the LORD. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.” Thanks be to God who has taken our messy, dirty, dingy and drab hearts and can make them pure and white as snow! Why not let the snow be a source of inspiration as to what God has done in your life!

My favorite verse in Genesis

2010-01-04T09:43:00.001-05:00

Yesterday in my sermon I mentioned that I had underlined my favorite verse from each of the 66 books in Ben’s new Bible. So each week, I will give you my favorite verse from a Book.

Genesis’ favorite is Genesis 1:27-28: So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground."

The notion that we were created in God’s image blows me away. The power of this verse came to me in a sermon I once heard, when the grammatically challenged preacher said in reference to this verse: “And God don’t make no junk!” That guy might not have passed an English test—but his theology was right on! We are created by God. As such, we are special. We are precious. We have tons of potential because we were made in the image of God!

One of my 2010 Resolutions is to Blog More

2010-01-02T10:31:00.001-05:00

One of my Twenty-Ten (or is it Two Thousand and Ten?) resolutions is to use this blog a bit more than I did in Twenty –OH Nine (now that sounds dumb—I’ve never asked a kid his age and have him reply “I’m oh seven.” But I digress…) My hope is to usually include the e-mail I send out on Thursdays and the devotional thought from the Monday Morning Quarterback that I send to Central’s church board on Mondays (duh), and any other timely, helpful, not so helpful, funny, not so funny things of interest.

So keep checking for the ramblings of Rob…

Wisemen Shopping

2009-12-17T11:46:00.002-05:00

Everyone with their Christmas shopping done, raise your hands.

Everyone who wants to give the people with their hands raised a “Noogie” raise your hands.

Everyone who thinks that the people who get their Christmas shopping done before Christmas Eve are a little too organized, raise your hands.

Thank you. Hands down.

Is this my weekly letter on an AA-like confessional?

“Hello my name is Rob and I am a Christmas Eve Shopper.”

I don’t know why I procrastinate. I just do. I know I need to buy presents. I know that all the cool stuff will be gone by Christmas Eve and I will be left to choose between an assortment of Snuggies, Chia pets and jars of pickled herring. Still I wait.

I’ve tried to excuse my procrastinating for economical reasons: “Our credit card cycle is later in the month, and if I wait to purchase gifts then we won’t have to pay for them for an extra 24 days.”

I’ve made an effort to illicit my doctor’s support: “Are you sure doc there is not a life threatening condition known as “Wal-Mart Intolerant”?

I’ve even attempted to make this a spiritual matter: “Since the Lord could return any day now, why buy presents for people who are going to be raptured outta here? I don’t want the brand new sweater I paid $7.95 on the clearance rack at Target just lying on the street in a pile after they’ve been caught up in “the Big Whoosh” to heaven and I don’t want their sinful relatives using the Chia Pet I bought after their gone either.”

The truth is—the reason I procrastinate is, “I hate shopping.” Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

And I’m bad at it.

I’ve bought Karla plenty of lousy gifts down through the years. She no longer allows me to buy her clothes (my taste and hers are not the same); If the present is used for cleaning, she has promised to clean my clock with it (and I don’t think she means my Timex); and I’ve learned she doesn’t like footballs, Frisbees or any other sporting equipment—so what’s left to buy?

I blame the three Wisemen for my dilemma. They are the guys that started this whole gift buying frenzy. Had they not brought their gifts from the east then maybe we could just celebrate Christmas by singing carols and eating gingerbread. I sometimes wonder if they had to battle the crowded malls to get the frankincense if there would have been only two gifts. You think parking your Nissan Altima is hard, try finding a spot for a camel. Moreover, the Wisemen didn’t have to wrap the gold in a fancy box (gift wrapping another thing I am horrible at--by the way. The greatest invention ever: The Christmas Gift bag), they didn’t have to wrap the gifts but the Magi did have to make sacrifices to get the gold to Jesus. They probably weren’t asking,” Is my myrrh missing a vowel,” but neither were they saying, “Is it worth it to take these gifts to a King?” According to the Bible, when the Magi “saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh.” (Matthew 2:10-11)

All this to say, I don’t think the Magi were procrastinating or complaining about the gifts they needed to get-- because their trip wasn’t really about the gold, frankincense or myrrh—it was about worshipping the Christ child. It was about finding the King.

It’s the same with our Christmases. Whether your shopping has been done for weeks or if you are going to do it next Thursday afternoon in Walgreens remember this: Christmas isn’t about the gifts, it is about the Gift that came from heaven. It’s about worshipping that King!

Everyone thankful for that Gift raise your hand. Me too!

Severe Snow Warning!

2009-12-10T16:04:00.002-05:00

Some of you may have heard that I am from the Great Lake State; aka The Wolverine State; aka The Winter Wonderland; aka Michigan. Because of that fact, there are a few experiences afforded me. I always carry the state map (at least the Lower Peninsula of the state map) on my hand; I know plenty of people that used to work in an automotive factory; and I am long suffering (I am a Detroit Lion’s fan).

From time to time I am made aware of some differences between my home state and my adopted state of Kansas. This week was such a week. As you might know, in Michigan usually from mid November until early April cold white flakes fall from the sky on a rather frequent basis. When Karla and I lived in Alanson—Alanson, by the way, is located at the tippy top of your ring finger when looking at the backside of your left hand—there was snow on the ground from late October until early May. In other words, Michigan gets a fair amount of the frozen sunshine known as snow. The hardy souls of Michigan shovel it, scrape it, ski it, snowmobile it, sled it, throw it, create art and angels in it, and in all ways embrace it.

In Michigan, a “Severe Snow Warning” means (believe this or not) that there may be a foot of snow on the way. It is a time when children are giddy with anticipation of the coming mountains of white, fluffy snow. Forts will be built. Snowmen made. The older youth see dollar signs as they use their dad’s snow blower to clean off the neighbor’s sidewalks and driveways. A Severe Snow Warning means (believe this or not) that an enormous amount of snow will soon be dumped on the affected area.

This week we had “a Severe Snow Warning” in Kansas. They were talking about this coming snow fall for weeks and weeks (OK maybe not “weeks and weeks,” but I think since last Thursday). By the way some weather forecasters were telling the story it would be the “Mother of all” Snowstorms. The city would be shut down. Life would be interrupted. Mayhem and destruction were distinct possibilities. The apocalypse was sure to follow.

Finally, oh so finally, the Monster Snowstorm of 2009 struck!

I awoke yesterday morning ready to break out my snow blower (the same snow blower that as it was being unloaded off the truck four years ago in the 100+ degree heat, the moving guy said, “You won’t need this.” I don’t think I used the old Toro even once all last winter in Kansas). Still, I was ready to shovel and scrape and remember the good ole days of frozen finger tips and hot chocolate warm ups. But instead I awoke to a grand total of an inch of snow maybe less!

Are you kidding me? I’ve seen more snow on the walls of my freezer.

In my home state we call that “a heavy frost.” We don’t even cover our tomatoes for an inch of snow. We wear shorts, t-shirts and flip flops and wonder when is “Winter comin’” when there is a mere inch of snow on the ground. We…. Ok, I’m exaggerating. We might not do those things, but when a grand total of one inch of snow is coming it is not called a “Winter Storm Warning” and it is not the talk of the news reports for three days in a row.

I write this not to solely complain about the hysteria of the weathermen in my adopted state, but also to reflect upon this Advent Season. Advent for the Christian is the season of preparing for the arrival of the Christ child on Christmas Day—but the Advent Season also carries with it the knowledge that Jesus is coming again. Like weathermen with an approaching snow storm, the Bible is full of warnings and reminders of that Second Coming. The warnings are not about the prospect of slippery roads and snow days for school children—but about the coming of the end of all things. In Revelation 3, Jesus said, “I am coming soon” (Revelation 3:11). In Mark he said, “No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come. It's like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with his assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch” (Mark 13:32-33). In other words, the end is coming. Make sure you are ready.

I’m afraid that when thinking of the Second Advent and that “Jesus is coming again” we treat it like the news was being shouted by some wild haired, crazy guy on the street holding a big sign saying “The End is near.” Or at best, we treat the news like a hysterical weatherman on the local news is discussing a nonexistent snow storm and we conclude, “Well it might happen, but it won’t be today.” We don’t seem to treat it with the giddy excitement of children missing school or the opening of presents on Christmas Day.

This fact remains: Jesus is coming again. I don’t know when. I’m not painting my big sign to say “the end is near.” But I know He IS coming again. And like Jesus tells us, I want to “keep watch.” I want to be ready for that day. I want to make sure that my relationship with God is current and up-to-date. As we await the advent of his second coming, I want to be giddy with anticipation for the time when all believers will be faithful, joyful and triumphant.

A Weird Week

2009-12-06T08:11:00.001-05:00

My weird week began, when my previously only occasionally irritating phone, decided on Saturday that it would become a permanent irritant and refuse to turn on. I don’t know why it stopped working, it just did. Knowing that a friend had some used T-Mobile phones lying around his house, I called to borrow one. Thankfully he agreed to allow me to use his daughter’s old phone until I can get a new one later this week. So now my ring tone is some crazy rap song and there are several teenage girls’ phone numbers in my possession. If someone listened or looked at the phone I am using without knowing the full story, I’m sure they would assume my name is “Pastor Creepy.” Weird!

The weird week continued when I was preaching in Sunday Morning’s second service—a sermon that was to be enhanced by my preaching in a darkened sanctuary with only a single light bulb to illuminate the message (you had to be here…); the only problem was that the light bulb worked for approximately 1/100th of a second. UGH! Thankfully, Pastor Kevin found an alternative lamp and after a minor delay the sermon was droning on. Still, it was not the way I envisioned the sermon to go. (By the way, in spite of the “technical difficulties” several people became Christ followers on Sunday Morning!)

The weird week rolled on when we received a call at the church that someone had hacked into our phone lines and had made hundreds of calls to (get this) Liechtenstein. You read that right: Liechtenstein. According to Wikipedia, Liechtenstein is one of the world’s smallest countries (about the size of Overland Park), has a smaller population than Lenexa and it is the world’s largest producer of false teeth and sausage casings (insert your own joke here). Liechtenstein was also the recipient of numerous phone calls from the Central Church of the Nazarene from Saturday Night until Sunday morning at 8 AM. Maybe there was some Liechtenstein phone-a-thon going on. Weird.

There were other weird things occurring this week like the temperature going from a pleasant 60 degrees to a freezer-like 30 degrees overnight. The wreathes that Karla had me put up when the weather was balmy last Saturday are now blowing in the wind and scraping on the windows. Twice now, I’ve awoken thinking some burglar is outside my bedroom (Quite honestly, if I were a burglar it would probably be easier to break in a first floor window rather than my second floor window, but in my sleep I’m not thinking logically). Speaking of Christmas decorations (the wreathes, remember?) my house looks like an elf convention gone badly—there are Christmas supplies everywhere. Weird!

I’ve been to hospitals, counseling sessions, and Tuesday night was the District Pastor’s Christmas Party. As you well know, pastors are “party animals”—thankfully the weirdness of the week did not include anyone doing anything that will cause them to lose their credentials. Although I must admit that our own Pastor Cory Stipp would have been elected as the best dressed if such an election were held. To quote the rapper on my borrowed phone, “He was looking fly.” Weird!

I know I am not alone. Famous people like Tiger Woods and football coaches, Bobby Bowden and Charlie Weis, also have had a weird week. Sometimes things just happen. Sometimes our weird week happens as a result of someone else’s behavior, sometimes we are the reason for our weird week, and sometimes life just happens that way.

Remember Paul’s words for weird weeks: So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There's far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can't see now will last forever. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18, The Message) In other words, Hang in there in the weird and wacky weeks. God is in control. He’s on the throne. Keep trusting Him!

Tessie

2009-11-21T15:49:00.000-05:00

When I was a young, hot out of the seminary oven preacher boy, I would go to the Four Season’s nursing home every Thursday morning. The fine residents of Four Seasons didn’t know it, but they were my Guinea pigs. They would get a “test run” of Sunday’s message before the congregants at the Bad Axe Church of the Nazarene got the real deal three days later. I had been using Karla as my Guinea pig, but when she didn’t like something she let me know it—the Four Seasons crowd was much more genteel or maybe their hearing aids were turned off. Either way, I didn’t have to dodge shoes and other assorted items when I preached at Four Seasons. (Of course, I’m kidding. It’s true that I used to practice my sermons on Karla, it is not true that she threw things at me when I did).

The service at Four Seasons was very simple: three songs, a prayer, and a sermon by me. The hymnbook that we used consisted of 15 songs in a super-sized font that Bartimaeus could have read-- even before he met Jesus. So we frequently sang the same songs. A half blind, half deaf lady volunteered to play the piano, the residents would choose the songs, and I (never to be confused with Bill Gaither or Steven Curtis Chapman) would lead the music. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir we were not.

One of the regulars at our little church service at Four Season’s was Tessie. Tessie had suffered a stroke when she was young and been in the nursing home for quite some time. She had trouble walking and had never had any type of speech therapy following her stroke, so she had a very difficult time speaking. Most people could not understand a word that Tessie said, but I think that was because they didn’t try. Oh, one more thing about Tessie—she loved Jesus. With all her heart, she loved Jesus.

Like the Detroit Lions losing football games, every week I could count on Tessie to lift her crippled arm and request that one of the three songs that we sing would be “What a Friend we have in Jesus.” Every week-- “What a Friend we have in Jesus.” I think she would have chosen that song if there were a thousand songs in the hymnbook and not just fifteen. She never grew tired of it. Tessie couldn’t even sing the words (not in a language that most people could understand)—but she deeply knew the friendship of Jesus.

I want to be like Tessie—no matter my difficulties and even if no one quite understands it-- I want to sing out: “What a friend I have in Jesus.”
Moreover, I hope this isn’t sacrilegious (I don’t mean it to be), I hope Jesus is singing, “What a friend I have in Rob” too. In all the best friendships I have had—it’s been a “two way street.” When I need a friend, they are with me and when they need a friend, I am there. That’s what true friendship looks like. While I am absolutely convinced that Jesus will never leave me; I want Him to know—through all the times in my life, through all the trials and all the storms, when people let me down, when church folks act like Darwin was right, when life is downright stinky—that I am not leaving Him. He can count on me to keep trusting, keep giving, keep believing, and keep expecting greater things.

Is Jesus singing, “What a friend I have in __________ (Fill in your name)”?

Stolen Pumpkins

2009-10-30T22:09:00.001-04:00

Someone swiped the pumpkins from our front porch.

There’s a pumpkin thief in the 66062 area.

Why would someone steal our pumpkins? They were not particularly large pumpkins. They were not the $8 big boys; I think they were the $5 specials. They were not unique and home grown (I have a little trouble growing pumpkins, although I’ve tried every year for the last 15 years to grow a single pumpkin. Karla recently told me I needed to water the seeds that I planted. Wow, I wish she would have told me that fifteen years ago.). The pumpkins on our porch were Wal-Mart’s “you and a million other people in mind” pumpkins. They were not carved in the likeness of anyone famous or painted with fancy designs. In fact, if memory serves (how quickly one forgets the distinguishing characteristics of their pumpkins once they are gone) one of our pumpkins had its stem broken off. Who steals a maimed, five dollar Wal-Mart pumpkin? I don’t know who done it… but my pumpkins are gone.

Karla had gotten some hedge apples (not to be confused with road apples) from the tree behind the church and was placing them in a bucket to go alongside the pumpkins on our front porch when she made the discovery—there were no pumpkins on our front porch! She did not call 9-1-1 upon this revelation. She was just a little sad. If you know Karla I am not sure if she was sadder that the pumpkins were gone or that the $10 dollars she spent on the pumpkins was now wasted. In either case, she was sad. Me too.

On our nightly walk through the neighborhood, I noticed some of our neighbors still had pumpkins on their front porches. Obviously, the pumpkins bandits didn’t steal everyone’s pumpkins—just ours. The policeman down the road had several pumpkins on his porch, driveway, and practically everywhere. The fact that he parks his patrol car in the driveway and has a big, mean police dog in his backyard that barks at the sound of a flea jumping from his tail onto the ground might help stave off any potential pumpkin crooks from his yard. Still even neighbors that do not presumably “pack heat” did not have their pumpkins stolen. Just ours. Bummer.

While disappointing, I guess in the whole scope of life--not having pumpkins on our front porch is not too big of a deal. I’ve known people who have allowed far worse thieves steal far more. So keep watch for these thieves:

Don’t let bitterness steal your joy.
Don’t let doubt steal your hope.
Don’t let anger steal your peace.
Don’t let the past steal your present.
Don’t let circumstances steal your contentment.
Don’t let negativity steal your optimism.
Don’t let injustice steal your passion.
Don’t let a bad report steal your trust.
Don’t let gossip steal your godly conversation.
Don’t let greed steal your generosity.
Don’t let judgmental attitudes steal your zeal.
Don’t let hypocrites steal your faithfulness.
Don’t let laziness steal your service.
Don’t let hatred steal your love.

Don’t let our enemy, the great thief, steal the abundant life that our Savior, the Great Hope Provider, has for you!

Hanging Out at O'Hare

2009-10-16T08:48:00.001-04:00

I am beginning to write these words from the Chicago O’Hare Airport. Airports are great for many things (besides air travel of course). They are great places to overpay for a hamburger (oops, don’t tell Karla that I had a Big Mac for lunch. I’m not sure those tasty little morsels are in the “Mrs. Prince’s Approved Diet Plan”). They are also great places to pay for Wi-Fi. Who pays for Wi-Fi? Not this cheap, internet-less pastor. Even worse than charging for Wi-Fi, airports are places that actually charge for electricity. I could not believe that in Kansas City’s Airport one has to pay two dollars—TWO DOLLARS!!!—to plug in a laptop computer to an electrical outlet by a seat in the gate area. Are you kidding me? The notion of charging for the use of an electrical outlet was so upsetting to me, I nearly became Amish. Thomas Edison cannot be happy right now!

In spite of all that, airports are great places to watch people. As I type these words, across from me is sitting a man who looks a lot like Uncle Joe on the old, old Petticoat Junction T.V. Show. (I know I am dating myself right now, but the dude seriously looks like Uncle Joe. You have to be over 50 to remember and appreciate Petticoat Junction but it was a great show with the famous line in its theme song: “and there’s Uncle Joe, he’s a movin’ kind of slow at the junction, Petticoat Junction.”). I think the sleepy, snoring man with Velcro sneakers is a dead ringer for Uncle Joe (Probably a poor word choice of “dead ringer” since Uncle Joe has long, long gone to his Great Reward). Across from him is a man reading today’s edition of USA Today, he looks a little like Cheech (or is it Chong? Again I’m dating myself.) I can never remember who is who. There is a family with a little girl and boy. The boy is acting like the seat next to him is Indy 500 race track for his toy car. I don’t think the man that is occupying that seat is amused.

In my G-7 gate waiting area, there are people dressed in designer clothes and those of us dressed in sweatshirts. There are black people, white people, Latinos and Asian people. There are old and young people. There’s an old guy with a pony tail and a young lady without much hair at all. Interesting. There is a grey haired man who is with a young lady that I initially thought was his daughter, she is probably much younger than his daughter if he had a daughter, but from the way they are now “carrying on,” I think it is safe to assume that they are definitely not daddy and daughter. And I am pretty sure that their behavior is not acceptable, even if we were in an airport in Sodom or Gomorrah. Yuck! There are more people in this area than there are seats. It’s crowded in here. Grandpa and his wife (girlfriend?) are sharing a seat.

So what’s the point? There are tons of people in this airport. From all over the world, from different walks of life, from different socio-economic backgrounds—and all of them, I mean every single solitary one of them is loved by God.

As I sit here typing, I am also praying. I am praying that God will send someone to talk to the sleeping young man with his iPod blaring who seems quite oblivious to the things of the world. I pray that he is not oblivious to the things of God. And I pray that the business man wearing a Rolex and a very expensive suit will have someone share with him the love of Christ too. I’m praying for that family with the two kids, the Uncle Joe, Cheech and Grandpa and his young lady. And I am praying that God will give me an opportunity (maybe to someone in this waiting area or on the airplane) to be able to share the love of God.

I want to be like the Apostle Paul who said, “Live wisely among those who are not believers, and make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone” (Colossians 4:5-6). I think that applies to airport waiting areas, travel mates on the airplane and any place where we find ourselves. Could it be that God has arranged a Divine appointment for someone and you and Him?

Oh my, the gate agent has just announced that my airplane is not leaving from gate G-7 after all but will be leaving from gate G-1. I’ve got to run like O.J. through this airport (like in the Avis commercial… before all of his troubles… OK if you were counting that’s three times I dated myself in this brief article. UGH! I’ve got to get on my airplane.).

(Interesting editorial note: I prayed that God would use me on the airplane—that God would set up a divine appointment. My Bible was ready. My courage was mustered. Once on the airplane, I walked to my 14-C seat and guess who was the only person on the entire airplane that did not have a fellow passenger in the next seat? Me! I’m serious. The airplane was totally booked minus one seat. A big guy sat next to me for about 15 seconds and then moved forward to sit next to his wife. Maybe God thought I needed a divine appointment with sleep instead.)

The Man and the Restaurant… A Parable

2009-09-17T12:20:00.000-04:00

There once was a man who found a very nice restaurant. The food was good. The service was fast. The other patrons were friendly. He decided that it was his favorite restaurant and went there every week. Every Sunday morning, he went there. “What better way to start one’s week than to have a tasty meal,” he thought as he drove to his favorite restaurant.

He liked the food so much that he ate as much of it as he could whenever he was there. As strange as it might seem to people who eat every day (and even more so for those that eat three times a day), this man only ate when he was at his favorite restaurant. Every Sunday morning he ate and ate and ate, but for the rest of the week he starved. Once in a while he would go to the restaurant on a Wednesday night where he’d get a little snack and that would help tide him over until Sunday. Some of the restaurant’s patrons would gather together, eat in their homes and talk about their favorite recipes; the man was invited but never went. He said he was much too busy for that and he wasn’t comfortable eating when just a few people were around. So for the most part, he was a once-a-week eater. And if he happened to go on vacation or if he was sick or if he simply overslept on Sunday morning, then he wouldn’t go to the restaurant for two weeks or maybe more.

If you happen to be one of those people who eat every day (or even three times a day), then you might not be aware of this fact: once-a-week eating can leave a person very hungry. Moreover, if a person skips eating all together for a week or two, then one becomes quite famished indeed. It’s hard to maintain one’s strength when you only eat one meal a week. It’s easy to become grumpy when you only eat once in a while. So not surprisingly, the man started losing his strength and getting a little grumpy.

He went to the restaurant manager and said, “Sir, I’ve been coming to this restaurant for a long time now, but I am starving! I am losing my strength and my wife says I’m getting grumpy.”

The restaurant manager was taken aback by that statement (not that he was grumpy, but surprised that he was starving). The manager told the man that the restaurant had many patrons that had been coming to the establishment for years and were quite satisfied and filled. So he asked him about his daily eating routine on the six days when he was not at the restaurant. “Do you eat a good breakfast? What do you normally eat at lunch time? Tell me about your dinner habits?”

The man quickly replied, “Oh I never eat at home--only here. And quite frankly, I am not being fed enough here. I might have to find another restaurant to eat at-- one where I can eat and eat and eat and be full all week long.”

The restaurant manager said, “I am unaware of such an eatery. There are many fine restaurants and some serve excellent food, but if you only eat once a week even if it is the best restaurant in the world, with a well-known chef and most efficient waiters, you will still be hungry by the end of the week. You really need to eat something every day.”

The man had plenty of excuses why he only ate at the restaurant once a week. He was much too busy to prepare himself a meal. His home cooking wasn’t the same as the restaurant’s entrées. He never seemed to get anything out of the cookbook when he read it on his own. And he concluded that if the restaurant manager couldn’t promise a more filling once-a-week meal, then he would have to go to the restaurant down the street.

And that is exactly what he did.

Every Sunday (when he wasn’t on vacation or sick or simply sleeping in) he woke up and went to the restaurant down the street, received a good meal and then went on his way. The man was starving most of week, getting grumpier and grumpier, losing strength and thinking if only he could find the perfect restaurant with a once-a-week meal then he would never be hungry again. A friend at work told him that the restaurant in the next town over had good meals, a nice manager and very friendly patrons; maybe he’ll try that one next week.

Parking Lots and Patience

2009-08-20T14:15:00.000-04:00

It’s been said, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” But I say if the Roman mayor and city council had hired our parking lot repair company, then Rome would still be under construction. To say the progress on the church parking lot has been a little slow is like saying counting each grain of sand in the Sierra Desert might take a little time. If our parking lot repair guys were in the race with the turtle and the hare—they would have finished not only behind the turtle and the hare, but also behind the snail, the sloth, and the gimpy legged opossum. The job that was supposed to take one week to complete (and was supposed to have begun on August 3) is now set to be completed on August 26. If you were a betting person (a betting person in a non-gambling sanctified way, of course) then I would strongly urge you to not bet on the August 26 completion date.

I’ve been told that there are numerous reasons for the delays. Wrong sized saw blades and bad weather and a few reasons only the company knows. There is no truth to the rumor that the construction team took a day off to celebrate St. Mac Day (the patron saint of cement workers). Maybe the company only hires preachers—for the last twenty years I have heard from smart aleck parishioners that preachers only work one day a week. Of course, even if that were true (which believe me is NOT true), it would still be an improvement over the “work” being done in our parking lot. Bottom line: Our parking lot still is under construction and the East entryway is still blocked off and people are still forced to turn around in the parking lot when they are “passing through” because they discover that they can’t “pass through” after all. A fact that someone has said has caused more profanity coming from the U-turning cars in our parking lot than in the Chief’s parking lot following a loss to the Oakland Raiders. I wouldn’t know about that…

Here’s what I do know: Things don’t always happen in our desired time frames. Whether we are talking parking lots or lots of others things—our timing and the actual timing of events are not always the same.

We want the oncology reports yesterday. We want to hear about the job interview at this instant. We want the repair man to return our calls as soon as we have left the message. We want patience… NOW.

You and I both know it doesn’t always work that way. The Bible tells us that “Love is patient and love is kind.” (1 Corinthians 13:4). So there are times when our loving patience will be put to the test. Sometimes we simply must wait. That’s true when dealing with construction workers, doctors, potential employers, and it’s even true in our waiting on the Lord.

God’s timing is always perfect. He is never early; never late; He is always right on time. So we wait. Often we don’t know why we are waiting, but we wait anyway. We might wish we were not waiting. Still we wait. And in those moments, the faithful are convinced that Isaiah 40 is true when it says: “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31 KJV). In other words, when the period of waiting is over—whether the outcome is as we would have liked or not— through God’s power we will be stronger, better, and closer to Him than ever.

Are you waiting for something in your life a lot more serious than a messy parking lot? Keep trusting in God. He knows what you need, when you need it. You can always trust in His timing. And together you and God will always win! You might not get to park your car in the west parking lot, but you will win.

Endure and buy a mac

2009-07-28T16:14:00.000-04:00

From the time the OU hat-wearing, probably 19 but looked 12, AT&T guy entered my home to “fix” my non-broken computer until now (in other words, in the last 9 months), my computer has experienced a series of unfortunate events. Here’s the list: the hard drive completely and totally went kapoot (by the way, the good folks at the AT & T have still not compensated me for that loss— I have called and called and called, I believe U-verse really means “Universe,” as in “they must be in another Universe, because they do not contact people living on planet earth.”); the internal wireless thingy went ka-pooey; the built in mouse pad has a rodent mind of its own and will without warning send the curser to places unknown (which has tempted this normally mild-mannered pastor to want to “curser” too); the battery lasts about as long as it takes to my dog Maggie to eat a rebel hot dog that has rolled off the grill (read: no time at all); and this week’s latest computer catastrophe, the internal video card went belly up leaving my screen in total darkness.

Many friends have offered me advice about this situation. I’ve heard everything from “getamac” to “get a gun and shoot it.” I’ve been told that my computer brand name HP actually stands for Hardly Performs. I’ve been tempted to see what my dear sweet mother did with the manual Remington typewriter we used to have (For all of those under twenty reading this: A typewriter was kind of like a computer without a memory and no video screen. One would type letters directly onto a sheet of paper, and if the person typing wanted to have music while he or she worked at this typewriter, then the only options were to hum a happy tune or play music on a thing called an 8 track machine or record player).

The fine tech team at the church has decided enough is enough and it’s time for my computer go to the great computer lab in the sky— or more than likely, because of all the frustration it has caused, it may be traveling to another place. I find it hard to believe that my little anxiety producing machine is going to be taking the elevator up (if you know what I mean). In any event, my trials should soon be over.

Unfortunately, more times than not the sources of our frustrations are not so easily remedied. We can’t just start over. We can’t simply say “out with the old and in with the new”. Instead, we have to do the hard work of working on the relationship, mending the broken fences, apologizing or forgiving. Frequently, all we can do is endure. Endurance is a Christ-like quality that too few of us want to cultivate. But Jesus said, “if we endure to the end we will be saved” (Matthew 10:22). Moreover, the Apostle Paul who knew a thing or two about enduring in difficult situations (he frequently found himself in a rat infested prison for the cause of Jesus Christ) wrote these words, “Endurance produces character and character produces hope” (Romans 5:4).

Our choice is to have some kind of Star Trek-like teleporter remove us from all the frustrations and sticky situations of life, but maybe what’s needed is some God-empowered endurance. Hear this from James: Anyone who meets a testing challenge head-on and manages to stick it out is mighty fortunate. For such persons loyally in love with God, the reward is life and more life. (James 1:12 The Message) So the lesson learned is endure… and buy a mac!

I scream. You scream. We all Scream for Ice Cream

2009-07-28T16:10:00.000-04:00

A mantra that has done me well through the years is this: “I scream. You scream. We all scream for ice cream!” I love ice cream. My favorite is Blue Bell. Although Karla says we can’t have it unless the price comes down or Hen House puts it on a crazy three-for-one sale. Karla doesn’t know how important good ice cream is. She thinks the no-named ice cream that comes in a clear plastic tub is just as good Blue Bell. For an ice cream connoisseur (she says “ice cream snob.”) like me, I say, “Blaspheme!”

So why did I throw away four cartons of ice cream yesterday morning? (In case you are wondering: three Breyers and one Blue Bell. I think the Blue Bell carton happened to find its way into the cart when Karla sent me to the grocery store for milk or eggs or something. But I digress….). Someone left the freezer door just slightly ajar. I am not a Maytag repair man, nor the son of a Maytag repairman, but I do know this: Freezer doors need to be closed to keep things frozen. When I discovered the slightly opened door, the ice cream was more like a chilled smoothie. I like ice cream, but only when it is frozen. As if I even have to write this, re-frozen ice cream (even when it is Blue Bell) is just plain gross. So, yesterday morning with a tear in my eye I said, “Goodbye mint chocolate chip! So long cookie dough! Adios rocky road! Sayonara Neapolitan. Good bye, my dear friends” as I tossed them into the trash bin and then took it to the curb.

Ice cream that’s not frozen is no good at all.

Jesus said similar things about salt that is not salty (see Matthew 5:13), water that is lukewarm (See Revelation 3:16) and plants that produce no fruit (see John 15).

I think the point in all of this is that we are to fulfill our purpose. Just as ice cream is to be a refreshing frozen treat on a hot summer day, we believers are to be a welcomed refreshing delight to our world. We were created to bring glory to God. We were fashioned to bring praise to His name. We were designed to live holy lives. We were made to ooze the love of Jesus with those we encounter.

So when our blood boils at needless things, when we get hot under the collar about non essentials, when we burn with a little sanctimonious self-righteousness it’s like leaving the freezer door open on a hot day. We become mushy, yucky un-frozen ice cream—what was intended to be a treat is a treat no more.

Let that never be said of us. Our world desperately needs the followers of Jesus to bring refreshment and delight—like a Blue Bell double dipped cookies and cream cone on a hot July day. Yum!

God says, “I hate divorce” and so do I.

2009-07-28T16:09:00.000-04:00

I read a letter recently written from a person to their ex-spouse. The letter contained harsh accusatory language. There was selfishness and brokenness oozing from each word. I am not exactly sure why the letter was sent. I know it caused more pain and more hurt. It showed again the ugly side of divorce (is there ever a “pretty side” in divorce?) that seems to happen all too often when a marital relationship ends and children are left hanging in the balance. It made me sad reading the letter.

Not too long ago, I met with a person who informed me that this person had never (never ever) loved his/her spouse. The marriage was a mistake from the beginning, I was told, and divorce was the only option. I left that conversation feeling the same way as I did when I was done reading the letter. Sad. Very Sad.

Last night I met with two couples preparing to get married. I asked them the simple question that I ask every couple I meet with before they get married. “Do you love one another?” (Seems like a downright silly question to ask a couple a few months before their wedding day, doesn’t it?)

Both couples convinced me. They told me that they really love one another. They looked in each other’s eyes. They smiled and held hands. They told me how when separated they can’t wait to see one other and how they look forward to talking to the other person. They told me how they care for one another, how they love to surprise the other one, and how they enjoy being together. I believed them—I think they love each other.

My guess is that if I had met with the couples from paragraphs #1 and #2 before they got married and asked them that same simple question, “Do you love each other?” I think their answers would have been just like last night. Holding hands, looking happy, “Yes!” they would have said. “We love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together.” I think they would have convinced me too.

I know the person in paragraph #2 said that there was no love between husband and the wife and never had been. Quite frankly I didn’t believe it. Nor have I believed it the bazillion other times when someone trying to justify his or her reasons for getting a divorce have looked me straight in the eye and said, “Pastor we have never loved each other.”

Contrary to those statements, I think most people are in love when they get married. Remember I get the best “seat” in the house at most of the weddings I attend. I am standing right in front of the groom as he gets that first glimpse of his bride walking down the aisle. I see the look in his eye as he sees her holding onto her daddy’s arm. I am just a couple of feet away when they stand face to face, holding hands and stating those most important promises: I will ALWAYS be there… for better or worse, for richer or poorer… til death do us part.” I believe they mean it.

Oh, I know it happens occasionally (that two people not in love get married)— and maybe if I was one of those mail order preachers that operated an Always-open Wedding Chapel in Vegas I would have a different opinion. But for the weddings I officiate in Kansas, I think most of the couples do love each other. I think most couples mean it when they say, “Whether we are rich or not, healthy or not, whatever may happen-- you can count on me.”

So what happens in between those lofty promises and looking all lovey dovey into each other’s eyes and those who abruptly announce, “I wanna divorce”?

My answer is pretty simplistic. Too simplistic some would say. But take this from a guy that has counseled hundreds of couples down through the years and have witnessed a reoccurring theme when it comes to divorce—it’s selfishness. One way or another, selfishness is involved. Either from the selfish one who is “looking out for #1” and ready to move on to something (or someone) “better” or from the one who is fed up living with a self-centered one. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I have heard one or all of the following: “I want my way. I don’t care about the line “for better or worse.” I’ve had it. I’m out. I don’t care about my spouse. I don’t care about my kids.” (By the way in last week’s Time Magazine there is an article making the case that children of divorced people are always negatively affected by the divorce). “I am done!” They say in one form or another.

Moreover, as far as I know—there is still only one sure fire remedy for self-centeredness. It’s Jesus Christ. If one or both in the relationship are displaying self-centered tendencies—what is needed is not a self-help class or two hours of watching Dr. Phil episodes. Jesus Christ is needed. Jesus needs to fill the husband or wife or both with a healthy dose of the Fruit of the Spirit. What marriage could not use more love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Galatians 5:21-22)? We used to believe that God provided that fruit to those who sought them—I still think He does. And I think if every marital partner displayed the fruit of the spirit in their homes—there would be far less divorces.

I told you it is simplistic: Our homes need more of Jesus and more of the fruit of the Spirit that only He gives. Simple.

Listen, I’ve been at this pastoring gig for a long enough time to know that sometimes some really wonderful people endure divorce. Sometimes, some fantastic people experience the reason why the Bible says, “God hates divorce.” It’s because divorce is painful and it hurts. (By the way, the Bible says “God hates divorce” it does not say, “God hates divorced people.” God loves everybody—even the most self centered of us. Always has. Always will). Still, there have been plenty of times I have wished there were a magic wand that I could wave that would take the pain and the heartache from the mostly innocent victims in divorce. But I there is no such invention.

I know that there are some reading this that have been victims of divorce and others reading this who have a selfish past that led to a divorce and that has since been gloriously forgiven-- please know, this letter is not meant to heap any needless guilt on anyone—it is simply to say from the perspective of one pastor in Kansas: I am tired of divorce. I am tired of the pain it causes. I am tired of Satan rearing his ugly head in our homes. I am tired of kids suffering; extended families grieving; all the while two hurting individuals with broken hearts and broken dreams saying “we’re through.” God says, “I hate divorce” and so do I.

Tonight's Chicken Nugget Eating Contest

2009-06-18T15:39:00.000-04:00

On July 4th at Coney Island in New York an event will take place—as it has every year since 1914. While it occurs on the holiday known for flags, parades, fireworks and barbeques, this event does not include bottle rockets or John Philip Sousa songs. Still some have said it is “Americana” at its best (or worst).

Last year, over 30,000 spectators (and a TV audience of 1.5 million) watched as Nathan’s Famous Hot Dogs conducted a hot dog eating contest – where the contestants had ten minutes to eat as many hot dogs as they could stuff down their pie holes. I guess nothing says “patriotism” and “independence” like a gluttonous adventure into the land of hot dogs. Maybe way back in 1914 when the idea of a hot dog eating contest arose, someone sighed, “only in America” and the rest is 4th of July history.

The winner the past two years has been a guy named Joey Chestnut (you’d think with a name like that he would be gorging himself with Christmas cookies over an open fire, not Independence Day wieners on Coney Island). In last year’s “glutton fest,” after ten minutes and 59 hotdogs (That is not a typo-- Joey ate nearly five dozen hot dogs in 600 seconds. For you non-Phi Beta Kappa’s that’s just about one hot dog wolfed down every 10 seconds. Burp.), Mr. Chestnut was tied with the six-time champion Takeru "Tsunami" Kobayashi. In order to determine the winner, the two men then had an “eat off” where each one was given a plate of five additional hot dogs to see who could eat them the fastest. As the wiener eating winner, having consumed 64 hot dogs in less time than it usually takes for me to get my order from the arched burger joint down the street, Mr. Chestnut received a trophy, two cases of Nathan's Famous hot dogs (he should have been given two cases of Pepto Bismol), the famous Nathan's Mustard Belt (whatever that is), and $10,000 (that might help pay for the quadruple by-pass surgery that is surely coming down the road). Double burp.

Having written all of that, tonight (thanks to Pastor Cory and his “volunteering” me in both services last Sunday morning), I will be participating in an eating contest too. There will be no hot dogs and no $10,000 prize. As far as I know, my competition will not include Mr. Chestnut or his Japanese rival. (Although our brand spanking new children’s pastor, Rev. Andy Foster will be there joining in the contest… he is in town looking for a house). Still, against my better judgment and with strong protests from my sensitive tummy, I will belly up to the counter to see how many chicken nuggets I can consume without hardening an artery, tossing my cookies and/or losing all dignity. Can one be in an eating contest and be free from the afore mentioned hazards? We’ll see.

The Olathe Chick-fil-A (at 119th and Blackbob) is sponsoring a fundraiser for our youth mission trip tonight between 6 and 8 PM. Simply mention that you are from Central Church and 15% of your meal cost will be donated to our youth mission trip. Throughout the evening, there will be lots of fun, prizes and of course the dreaded nugget eating contest. I hope you can come and join in the fun and support our students as they prepare to minister in Indianapolis this summer. I also hope that I can consume just enough nuggets to satisfy my hunger, but not enough to be embarrassing.

So as I prepare for tonight’s eating adventure, I have been trying to think if there might be some spiritual lesson I can glean from this experience. I know heaven is sometimes describes as “feasting at the banquet table,” but will it be like munching down a mountain of chicken nuggets from Chick-fil-A? Probably not. I used to sing in church the old song, “Come and Dine” but honestly, I don’t think the hymn writer had the deliciously slightly battered chicken morsels and tasty waffle fries in mind. Moreover, I am fully aware that during the Middle Ages gluttony was listed as one of the seven deadly sins, ummm… I will do my best to not step over the line. So what can I learn from tonight?

I think the best thing I can glean is that tonight is about having fun and raising money for missions. It’s about being together as a family and enjoying one another’s company. It’s really not about chicken nuggets. It’s more about community. I am thankful that Chick-fil-A has generously offered their facilities and will donate 15% of the proceeds to our youth. I am thankful for a youth program that recognizes the need to get our students involved early and often in missions. And I am thankful that Karla is out of town this week, so I don’t have to hear that “chicken nugget eating contests” are dumb.

As I reflect upon Barbie Q (the cow that was given to us by the Swazi chief in Africa) and how she gave her life to those who came to our free medical clinic day. Then surely, I can give my tummy to help raise a few extra dollars for the youth mission trip.

See you tonight!

Next to Last Day in Africa

2009-06-09T02:53:00.003-04:00

We have had such a wonderful time in Africa.

Yesterday we left Swaziland and headed to South Africa-- to Kruger National Park more specifically. We went into the park and began to look for wild animals. We saw Elephants (lots of elephants), giraffes, water buffalo, hippos, crocodile, lots of impala, kudu, and a few other things. We will go back today for a more guided tour-- and then tomorrow its back to Jo-burg and heading for home.

All are enjoying the sites and I think all are getting ready to head back home-- but we have had a wonderful time in Africa.

Africa Day Ten

2009-06-07T00:49:00.003-04:00

Saturday's Highlights in Africa include:

1) On the way to the work site we discovered that "Click it or Ticket" applies in Swaziland. One of our vehicles was pulled over by the police-- and since the passenger did not have a seat belt on-- we were ticketed. We had to pay on the spot 60 rand (about $7.50). When trying to get out of the ticket the "nameless team member" said, "I did not know it was the law in Swaziland." To which the officer replied, "Is it a law in your country?" Honestly admitting it was-- he then received his ticket. Now we know..

2) In the afternoon many from the team went to a traditional dance given on our behalf-- provided by the local chief (the chief that also gave us a cow). We were afraid that it might be a "little too traditional" but we were also afraid we would offend the chief and hinder the work of the church if we did not attend. So we decided to have some of our team attend but not our minors and some others of us-- it ended up being the G rated traditional service (All the women were wearing T-Shirts.) All enjoyed the cultural experience.

3) We completed most of the work on the nurse’s quarters. They were so happy-- even moved in some brand new furniture that we provided. They loved it.

4) Had a celebration service with all the Swazis that have helped us this week. We ate a little more of Barbie Q, our cow. She was a tough lady.

Now today will be church with our friends! I will be calling to our services. Have a blessed Sunday.

Africa Day Nine

2009-06-06T00:43:00.003-04:00

Yesterday the Luke Commission-- led by Nazarene Mission Corp doctor Harry and Echo Vanderwal came to Endzingini with there team of nurses and helpers to give a free clinic.

People started lining up before 5AM to see the doctor-- and the lines lasted all day. Hundreds of people were treated; many tested for HIV, screened for other diseases, fitted for glasses, and prayed over. Members from our team worked alongside the Luke Commission medical personnel and the local Swazi nurses.

As people waited in line-- our cow (Barbie Q) who yesterday met her demise-- was put to good use as 100's of people were fed with a meal of beef and "mealie meal" (a corn meal entree that looks like masked potatoes). They all seemed to like "barbie" very much.

The construction crew made great progress again on the nurse quarters. Today will be the last day of work and so we will do our best to get it done and "Move in Condition."

The team is still doing well-- although we are getting a bit tired. I think we wil welcome the lighter schedule today.

Keep us in your prayers. I hope to call back to both the 8:30 and 11:00 services tomorrow.

Day Eight in Africa

2009-06-05T00:40:00.003-04:00

Sany-bo-nani (Spelling is wrong but it means "Hello Everyone!")

Our trip continues to be going quite well. Yesterday here's what happened:
The Construction team made great progress on the nurse’s quarters. The nurses are currently living is a rat and bat and bug invested house-- these renovated quarters will allow the critters to stay out-- while a new place is being built. Later these temporary quarters will be use by the clinic. The construction team has been doing electrical, plumbing, painting-- you name it. We really want to get it done by Saturday before we leave... pray that we can.

The Medical Team went to Piggs Peak to work at the clinic there-- they were busier than in previous days-- seeing several people.

Rev. Micheale (pronounced McHale like in McHale's Navy) Lavigne and Yona Schroeder, and I met with the Pastors of the Hho Hho Region. What a great group of men and women. We sang together and prayed together and Rev. Lavigne and I led in a teaching time-- then we went to lunch at the Highlands Inn. The restaurant was OK-- certainly not a five star place-- but many of the pastors indicated that they had never eaten in a restaurant in their lives before-- they were so thankful that we had bought their lunch. We also gave them books and Yona had taken a picture of the group and of them individually-- which we were able to print out and given them. They were so thankful.

There was no VBS yesterday because there was no school for the younger children.

Last night we showed the Jesus film. Over 400 people showed up-- we printed 200 response cards and everyone was taken and that does not include the 70 children that moved forward. The say the response was overwhelming would be an understatement! God moved in a powerful way. Isn't that why we came? To see God heal and work and bring peace and salvation! It's happening!

I must report some sad news... our cow (That we named Barbie Q) met her demise yesterday. Dan Rexroth and several from the team had to travel to pick out the cow and then she came to a bitter end. She is dinner tonight (gulp!)

Also there was a three or four foot tree snake that wanted to come to the Jesus film last night. Just prior to her entrance the Rev. Dlaminni sent her to Snake heaven (Is there such a place? Probably not).

Today is the free medical clinic day. We are expecting over 1,000 people. It will be so busy--please pray that we minister in Jesus name.

Day Seven in Africa

2009-06-04T00:45:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was a big day as the Prime Minister from the Kingdom of Swaziland came in the morning. This was a very big deal-- for it wasn't "just" the Prime Minister but there were several members of Parliament, chiefs (not the Kansas City variety), other ministers.

The Prime Minister is a Nazarene (and a Preacher's kid... maybe there is hope for my boys!). He was also born in the Endzingeni Clinic where we were working. They put a plaque on the wall of the clinic honoring his birth. He gave a speech as did other officials-- and Dan Rexroth represented the group-- and gave greetings to everyone. I closed the morning with a prayer for the health of the Prime Minister and the well being of the Swaziland. Following the speeches the Prime Minister left-- but he provided wonderful lunch for everyone to share.

Oh, I almost forgot-- one of the area chiefs (not the Kansas City variety) was glad that we have come to work that he gave us a cow! Central Nazarene has a cow. Well not for long-- as is their custom the cow will be um... invited to dinner for everyone on Friday night. I have learned they cook every part of her-- from head to hoofs. I am hoping for something in between the head and the hoofs.

After all the hoopla, we got back to work. The construction team has a long way to go if we are going to be done with the nurse’s quarters before we leave-- pray that we get it done. The Medical clinic saw a few more patients (many people are waiting to come until Friday when there will be a free clinic day), and the compassion team held another VBS-- this time for the 5, 6, and 7 grades. Between 300 and 400 children were there. I wish you could have heard them sing-- to say Awesome is not good enough. It was so beautiful.

Today-- more construction will be happening, I will meet with the pastors of the Hho Hho Region and the nurses will work in the Piggs Peak Clinic. Tonight we will be showing the Jesus film (pray that it goes well!).

Again forgive all spelling errors-- there is no spell check.
Everyone is doing well-- there have been no injuries, no troubles, no problems of any kind. We have a great team!

Day five and six in Africa

2009-06-03T00:48:00.003-04:00

I am typing from the Maguga Lodge before we head out for our Wednesday Activities. It's been a busy few days while I haven't been able to Blog (this computer is a dial up one-- it's been a while since I've used dial up-- hope it works).

I am to be with the group in 15 minutes-- so this will be brief:

Sunday: We worshipped in the Sharpe Memorial Church in the morning with around 1,000 of our Swazi brothers and sisters. It was a good morning. Following services, we ate dinner with Dr. Samuel Hind-- a pioneer missionary and medical doctor who came to Swaziland in 1925 as a baby-- he is 84 years old and is still seeing patients. We also met his daughter-- Dr. Elizabeth Hind and grand daughter. Dr. Elizabeth runs the orphanage that we visited on Monday. In the evening we met with more Swazi leaders.

Monday: We broke into two groups-- half went on a tour of the hospital and half went with the AIDS Task Force for home visits (and then we switched). I learned a lot about the medical care in Swaziland. They have many dedicated and qualified workers—with very difficult conditions to work in. For instance, there is not an MRI machine in the country. There are only a couple of CT scans (the hospital is hoping to get one later this year). The hospital average 25 births a day! They see so many patients it’s unbelievable for the small staff.

The in home AIDS visits were humbling. To pray with someone dying of AIDS is something I will ever forget-- we visited (all total) probably around 20 homes. We also took a bag of groceries-- the people were so very thankful. Some received medicines. Pray for Swaziland and the AIDs epidemic-- 42% of the population has HIV/AIDs.

We then went to the New Hope Center-- the orphanage. What a joy to see these children happy and singing. It is a wonderful place of love and acceptance. They currently house about 40 children-- but they are making plans for many many more. We planted gardens in the plots that Central Church provided-- my group planted onions, beats, spinach.

Tuesday: Our work began on the medical clinic-- much construction was done. The medical workers saw a few patients, and the VBS crew got ready for the afternoon VBS-- we were anticipating 50 children on the first day-- 500 showed up! Had to go to plan "B" but all was good.

Our accommodations have been nice-- we will be here for a few more days working, seeing sick folks and holding the VBS.

Oh yes, today-- the Prime Minister of Swaziland is suppose to join us! WOW!

I'll try to write more later. Sorry for the spelling errors-- I am five minutes late!

Africa Day 3

2009-05-31T01:04:00.004-04:00

We arrived yesterday at the Tums George Hotel (sounds like an antacid doesn't it? But its a relatively nice place) in Manzini. After a nice dinner (chicken, a meat I think was beef, and fish) we met with an amazing couple-- Dr. Harry and Echo Vanderwal. They are doctors who have been in Swaziland for five years. Last year alone, they saw over (hold on to your hat) over 50,000 patients. There is such great need here in Swaziland. We will be working with them on Friday-- when over 500 patients are expected to arrive. The Vanderwal’s will take the 2,000 pair of glasses that we brought with us and distribute them in the coming weeks.

God has been using the Vanderhooks in great ways-- in fact the only fault I could find with them is their love for the Ohio State Buckeyes. Once again proving, no one is perfect.

Today, after breakfast we will head over to the Sharp Memorial Church of the Nazarene for church services. We will meet other leaders and begin to plan out our week ahead.

It's going to be a very busy week--working with HIV patients, planting gardens at the orphanage, holding medical clinics and training pastors, and construction on the nursing quarters. Again the needs are great... but God is greater!

The team is doing remarkably well. All are enjoying the sights and sounds of Swaziland. I will write more later... if I am able!

Africa after a night of sleep

2009-05-30T00:07:00.001-04:00

Africa Day 2
OK, I’ve had a little sleep (so maybe I’m a little more coherent). Here’s what I learned after being on an airplane for more than a day:

1) You know it’s a long flight when you are served three meals. My three were pancakes, a chicken and potato mix, and some kind of meat sandwich. It wasn’t Cheesecake Factory but not bad.

2) On our flight was Billy Donovan (the head basketball coach of the University of Florida). Maybe there is a young man down here that is as tall as a giraffe and runs like a gazelle—or maybe Billy wanted to hang out in Johannesburg.

3) The flight also allowed one to pick their choice of movies to view. My choices were:

1) Escape to Witch Mountain (staring the Rock). A word of advice—if the Rock is starring in the movie, it’s probably not going to win an Oscar.
2) Marley and Me. Sad, very sad. (Karla if you are reading this: DO NOT RENT THIS MOVIE)
3) 12 Rounds. It was a guy movie: guns and car chases. Dumb.

4) All the luggage made it! This is a first for me in several mission type trips. Yipppeeee! Thank you Delta baggage handlers!

5) The hotel is nice- the best I’ve stayed at on a mission trip. But it was just for the night. We will leave idlers—you n a few hours for Swaziland. I don’t think we will have the same accommodations.

6) I brought a long a little book on prayer written by John Wesley to use as my devotions for the trip. This morning Wesley was writing on making sure we are up-to-date in our relationship with God. How I long to always be current. I hope this trip stretches me and calls me to be a better pastor, husband, dad, friend, and fellow citizen of the planet.

7) Keep Praying. So Far so good!

We are in Africa

2009-05-29T15:32:00.001-04:00

We made it safe and sound to Africa and are right now getting ready for bed at the City Lodge in Johannesburg. After over 24 hours of travel—I don’t know if a shower ever felt better.

No funny stories or inspirational ones...just thankful for a safe trip.

Tomorrow we leave for Swaziland—it’s a five hour trip.

So far everything is going great.

I am not sure how much I will be able to blog in Swaziland—or how many pictures I will be able to post—but if I can…. You’ll see them here first.

OK Let’s see… I left the house yesterday morning at 6:30 AM it is now Friday Night at 9 PM. I’m a little sleepy. Keep praying for us.

Garden City is not my home

2009-05-22T08:32:00.001-04:00

Last week, my siblings and I helped my mom sort through 56 years of living in our house on Rosslyn Street in Garden City, Michigan. In all likelihood, it was the last time I’ll sleep in my hometown and the last time I’ll set foot in the house. My mom will be moving to a senior citizen condominium complex in a few weeks.

As far as I know, Garden City, Michigan is known for the following things:
1) The very first K-Mart
2) The very first Little Caesar’s Pizza Parlor
3) The birth place of leadership guru John Maxwell

But, I know Garden City for my first 17 years of life. There were baseball games at Moeller Field and attending school at Marquette Elementary (since torn down), Radcliffe Jr. High (it closed too) and Garden City West High School (apparently West was not best—as our chant indicated, because – you guessed it, West closed after my graduation. So, if you are keeping score—every school I attended prior to college has shut down, even the church where I went to Sunday School for most of those years is a doctor’s office now… I am a little worried for Olivet and the Nazarene Seminary). I marched in the hometown Thanksgiving Day parades as a cub scout and later as a member of the Fighting Tigers Marching band (If you’ve seen my clapping “skills” in one of our services it may come as a surprise that I was a percussionist—a bad percussionist, but a percussionist none the less). I hunted for Easter candy and watched fireworks at the Garden City Park. As I drove out of town last Wednesday, I wondered if I would ever be back.

There are a lot of memories within the walls of the house on Rosslyn Street. In that house we had a “Party Line” with our neighbor which has nothing to do with dancing the conga, and everything to do with one phone line for two houses. We also had one bathroom for six people (my folks added a bathroom after all of the kids moved out. I guess one bathroom was OK for six people but not adequate for two). There were memories of my sister’s cooking experiments which to this day, to coin the cliché, have left a bad taste in my mouth, and seeing her smooch her boyfriend in the hallway which prompted me to make kissing noises and prompted her to get really, really angry. There were Wiffle ball and basketball games on the driveway, football in the front yard and “curb ball” games in the street. The back yard served as a pitching mound where I pretended to be Mickey Lolich throwing a ball against the garage (As you could probably guess, the Tigers always won those pretend games.), the home to our dogs Chester, Tramp and Goober, and the “final resting place” for at least one hamster. It was on Rosslyn Street that my brother learned that diving head first into cement curbs can really hurt, my dad learned you shouldn’t jump “incorrectly” off garages onto cement driveways (that hurts too, apparently jumping the “correct” way does not), and I learned if the garage door was a wee bit wider (or if I was a wee bit better driver), the side-view mirror wouldn’t get ripped-off my dad’s car.

As I stepped out of the side door and into my car—I knew I was leaving those memories behind.

32701 Rosslyn was my parent’s home and my childhood home, but it’s not my home. Jesus said it best: “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.” (John 14:1-3 NLT). I’ll be going home one day, but not to Rosslyn Street. My home is in the Father’s House, it’s a wonderful place of which Paul wrote: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” (2 Corinthians 2:9) I am not exactly sure what Paul meant by all of that—but I think it means that my heavenly home will not need a window air conditioning unit to keep the upstairs cool in the summertime nor will it need the blanket supply of Fort Riley in order to stay warm in the basement. I think Paul meant, heaven will be more than a house, as you and I will finally be home.

Admittedly, I was a little sad driving away from my childhood house, but I can’t wait to get to my heavenly home.

My Mom and the Rubber Rat

2009-05-08T10:10:00.000-04:00

As a high school trumpet player in the Garden City West Marching Band my brother went to New York City one year. Being the fine big brother that he is—Fred brought me back a souvenir from his trip. He did not bring be back a miniature statue of liberty or a hated Yankees’ baseball cap—instead having heard that one might find a rodent or two within the city limits of the Big Apple, he returned with a rubbery life-sized rat. He could not have given this fourth grade brother a better gift.

I loved the rat. My mom hated it. There is something you should know about my dear, sweet mother. While from time to time she may have sung at church the great hymn “All creatures of our God and King…” I don’t believe she meant it. The truth is she hates God’s critters. She hates mice. She hates lice. She hates rats. She hates bats. She hates snakes. She hates bugs. She hates creepy things that hide under the rugs. (I feel like Dr. Seuss ).

Knowing this fact, did not prevent me from strategically placing my New York Souvenir throughout the house. For instance, I would place my rat in the cheese tray of our refrigerator (a perfectly legitimate storage place for a rodent) or occasionally I would place my rubbery friend in a cereal box and then I would wait for my mom to get some shredded cheddar or her morning Cheerios. At those moments of discovery, my mom would let loose a scream that would make the producers of any cheap horror flick proud. While this hasn’t been scientifically proven, I believe the noise level of one of her hollers would compare to a 747 takeoff. Upon hearing the noises being raised in the kitchen, the windows rattling and the house shaking, I knew my rat had been found, as did half of the population in the Lower Peninsula of Michigan. My mom knew the rat was rubber, that it was not a real rat still she would scream every time as if she encountered a living and breathing cousin of Willard.

One day my rubber rat went “a missing,” and while she never claimed responsibility for the disappearance, looking back now I do recall a hint of a smile whenever I inquired about the whereabouts of my rubbery friend.

My poor mother endured much more than the “old hidden rubbery rat trick.” In the days before video games and cable TV, before microwaves and all of our time saving devises (we had a ringer washing machine, for crying out loud—and the “dryer” was a clothes line in the back yard) my mom raised four kids. There were trips to emergency rooms (my brother found himself there more than the rest of us); sibling arguments for her to referee (as punishment one time she made my sister and brother hold hands and smile at each other—talk about cruel and unusual); meals to prepare (she still makes a yummy stuffed cabbage); sporting events and concerts to attend; cleaning, laundry and all the other household duties; and while not loving the critters she still welcomed into her home pet dogs, hamsters, turtles, fish and a salamander named Sam. (One lesson learned: Don’t play with a pet turtle in the driveway, at the same moment that your mom is returning home from the grocery store. That story does not have a happy ending.). All this to say my mom earned each and every white hair on her head.

This Sunday is Mother’s Day! It’s a day to honor all our moms (white haired and otherwise) and to tell them thanks for all they have done. So take time to say “Thanks”-- even if your mom accidently squished your pet turtle or in some other way was less than perfect. Don’t let Mother’s Day pass without thinking of and/or praying for the lady that brought you into the world and in most cases did so much more.

Betty and Easter's Good News

2009-04-09T12:15:00.000-04:00

Black Betty (my 124,000 mile, 1992 Chevy Impala) is sick. I am neither a mechanic nor the son of a mechanic, but there are a number of reasons for my diagnosis:
• She doesn’t take bumps in the road with the smooth comfortable ride as she once did. Each crack in the pavement seems like I just ran over the grand canyon;
• She’s a little cranky when I crank the engine in the morning especially on cold days;
• She moans and groans and rattles like her arthritis medicine stopped working long ago;
• Occasionally, she just won’t start (that is a really annoying habit of hers by the way);
• I no longer lock the doors because I think there is a problem with the security system (see above comment on occasionally not starting);
• The “needs oil changing” light doesn’t go off—even after I have had the oil changed;
• One interior light on the control panel is out;
• The Lenexa police officer that pulled me over a while back said the license plate light is out too. I didn’t know Betty had a license plate light. I’ll take Officer Friendly’s word for it—why would he lie about such a thing? (By the way, in case you are wondering… no ticket for Rob, just told not to roll through stop signs. Thank you Officer. I wonder if telling him that I pastor the church next to the police station helped my cause.).
• Her carpet is ripped and there are scratches and dents and chips all over her exterior—and there’s a little green paint on the rear right panel that looks eerily similar to the garage door trim paint. I wish those garage doors were just a wee bit wider;
• And most recently her check engine light periodically comes on. It’s not always on, just some times on. As of this writing, it is on, but yesterday afternoon it was off.

I know one day Betty is going to drive her last mile. I know it’s bound to happen sooner or later (as I have exactly zero car payments right now, I hope it is later. Much later.) I am unsure how to measure the life of a car, but I think it’s kind of like dog years. The formula goes something like this: Every 10,000 miles is like one dog year which, as you know, is like seven people years. So when calculating the life of Betty using the “10,000 miles = one dog year = seven people years” formula then she is 86 years and 9 months old by my reckoning. That might not be ready for hospice, but I am looking for their phone number.

One day Black Betty is going to die. And while I refer to her in human terms (notice she is “Betty” not “the Impala” or “the Chevy” or “the rattle trap from Detroit”; and further notice my use of personal pronouns in reference to her—Betty is not an “it”) still, I understand that she is an automobile and not a human. She will not go to “the great parking lot in the sky” when she drinks her last quart of 5W30 motor oil, but rather she will go to the dump. That’s where dead cars go. When they are dead, they are dead (Profound, I know).

Not so with people.

My dad who “died” less than a month ago (on Easter Sunday it will be exactly one month), is more alive now than ever. His faith has been made sight. He is enjoying all that God has promised to those who have allowed Jesus to enter his or her life and establish a relationship with him. Paul’s words to the Thessalonians are so wonderfully true. He said: “My friends, we want you to understand how it will be for those followers who have already died. Then you won't grieve over them and be like people who don't have any hope. We believe that Jesus died and was raised to life. We also believe that when God brings Jesus back again, he will bring with him all who had faith in Jesus before they died.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14 CEV). In other words, ol’ Bob Prince is doing pretty good these days. No pain. No cancer. No troubles. So I need not grieve like those without any hope. I have great hope in the One who died and is alive again!!!

And that is the GREAT news of Easter! And that is why this Sunday is the day to celebrate like no other day. And that is why I am so excited about Sunday. And that is why I can’t wait for Sunday. And that is why I want all of my friends to celebrate too--Jesus is alive! That’s the best news of all time!

Al Kaline and my dad

2009-04-02T14:02:00.002-04:00

In my office I have pictures and memorabilia of my favorite baseball player of all time, Al Kaline. Al Kaline played for the Detroit Tigers and retired back in the early 1970’s. In the sixth grade, I was hospitalized for a ruptured appendix and my sister waited in a long line to get my hero’s signature at an autograph signing. That picture is on my wall along with his jersey, several signed baseballs, other pictures and a collage of several of his baseball cards.

You’ve seen baseball cards. They have a picture of the ball player on the front of the card and all of their important baseball statistics on the back. On Al Kaline’s card, you could read about his 3007 base hits and 399 homeruns, how he was a perennial all-star and gold glove winner.

Al Kaline was my baseball hero, but my dad was my real hero. As far as I know, my dad never played baseball, never swung a bat, and never slid into home base. In fact, he said more than once, “I wouldn’t walk across the street to see those bums (the Tigers) play.” So he certainly never had a bubble gum card with his picture on the front.

But I got thinking… what if my dad did have a bubble gum card with his picture on the front? I think you would be able to flip the card over and read some stats that are even more impressive than Al Kaline’s hits and homers. You would read…
• Lived on this planet for 81 years.
• Married to my mom for 56 years.
• Worked for the Ford Motor Company for 43 years.
• Served his country in Germany during World War II.
• Became a Christian 49 years ago following a life of motor cycle gangs and alcohol abuse
• Father of four kids—all graduates of Olivet Nazarene College. A lawyer, a nurse and two preachers.
• Grandfather of eight—five of whom have graduated from Olivet (a lawyer, school social worker, teacher, and two in graduate school) and three who are still in school.
• Sunday school teacher, church board member, willing worker in all things church related.
• Recipient of numerous awards for his volunteer service in Detroit’s inner city.

I suppose if my name were Al Kaline Jr. I would have known how to hit a baseball a little better than I do. If my name were Michael Jordan Jr., I would have had a better jump shot. If my name were Bill Gates Jr., my bank account would be much bigger. But my name is Robert Samuel Prince Jr., and I wouldn’t change that name for any other name. My dad left me an example and legacy of faithfulness, loyalty and love. He taught me the important things of life—not simply through his words but more importantly through his actions.

A little more than a month ago, my dad walked into his doctor’s office with a tummy ache. A week after that, he had a test to determine the extent and the exact nature of his condition. A week after that, he was told he had pancreatic cancer. And two weeks later he died. My brother and I officiated at his funeral. While it was the most difficult funeral service I have ever participated in – still we were able to rejoice in the life my dad lived and the promise of eternal life that he is now experiencing.

Tag Team Wrestling

2009-04-02T13:59:00.001-04:00

Before WWF, before Hulk Hogan, before Vince McMahon, before any of today’s over-the-top wrestling events and characters there was Big Time Wrestling. Every Saturday afternoon as a boy I would tune in our 15 inch, rabbit eared, turn the channel with needle nosed pliers, black and white TV to channel 50 in Detroit and watch Big Time Wrestling. I couldn’t name for you one current wrestler, but from my childhood wrestling days there were guys like BoBo Brazil, Haystack Calhoun, Pompero Ferpo (the 8th Wonder of the World), Andre the Giant, Dick the Bruiser and the Sheik.

My brother and I would faithfully watch the Saturday afternoon wrestling matches. And following some particularly exciting matches on TV, we would transform our family room into a Big Time Wrestling ring (minus the ropes and referees) and have our own Big Time Wrestling Brouhaha. Although I was a willing participant, this was usually not a healthy choice for me.

My brother Fred is seven years older and seven years bigger than me. Hence, the resulting wrestling match in the family room usually consisted of Fred pretending to be BoBo Brazil and I was the poor wrestling fodder that was the recipient of BoBo’s signature move “the Coco Butt” (in case you are worried, the “Coco Butt” had nothing to do with anatomy but was a “head butting” type of move). Rarely would our wrestling match end without me running and tattling to my mother that Fred was: a) mean; b) not fair; c) pretending to be BoBo Brazil and I wanted to be BoBo; or d) all of the above. The most frequent result from my whining to my mother was a several week ban of Big Time Wrestling in the house or on the 15 inch Philco TV.

I think I would have fared better (and with less bumps and bruises) had my brother and I been a tag team, rather than him acting as if he were Bobo Brazil and me acting (although I wasn’t really acting) as the guy beaten up by BoBo. Of course, the question is who would we have teamed against? My sisters were much to wise to ever participate in the family room Big Time Wresting matches. Still, I would have liked being part of a tag team. As all wrestling fans know, a “Tag Team Match” is when two wrestlers pair together to wrestle two other wrestlers. In such an event, only one wrestler from each pair is in the ring at a time (unless the wrestlers are unruly, unfair and downright un-American wrestlers like the Sheik or Pompero Ferpo, the 8th Wonder of the World), and when the non wrestling wrestler wished to get into the foray he would tag the hand of his partner and the two wrestlers switched places.

Why the wrestling trivia?

I think church should be a tag team event. Not so that we can beat up the Baptists or the Episcopalians (I’ve seen some Episcopalians and I think we could take ‘em, but the Baptists? I am not so sure. Just kidding, I don’t want to body slam anyone or any church), still we need to be a tag team so that we might impact our world. When Central folks walk in church, they tag our worship team and me (the preacher) and say, "Go for it." Meaning: Help lead us to a place of worship and praise and connecting to God. When Central folks walk out we tag them and say, "Go for it." Meaning: take the light of Christ and the things you have learned and the peace you have experienced and the joy in your heart to the dead and dying world. Don’t keep it to yourself.

As all tag team loving wrestling aficionados know, the best wrestling tag teams trust each other. They know that once tagged their partner won’t let them down. In our church tag team—I hope we can have the same confidence. So that when you invite a friend or neighbor and walk into church and tag us and say “Go for it” you will have confidence that we who are leading in worship will be real and authentic and prepared to lead us to God. Then when we tag you back and say, “Go for it!” we will have the confidence in you that you will keep being faithful and keep inviting, and keep being real and honest, and continue to live before your friends a Christ-like life.

By the way, Mr. or Ms. Newly-Tagged-member-of-the-Central-Tag-Team, the best form of advertising always has been and always will be word of mouth. For what it's worth, most Central folks came to Central because a friend invited them. It's as simple as that: friends inviting friends. This Easter we've invited several thousand people in our surrounding area through a direct mailer. And a few may come through that effort. Others will come to Central for Easter services simply because they drive by our church and will drop in or they will have hopped on-line and checked out our web-site and decided we are a nice place to visit. But most new folks will come to Central because somebody invited them.

This Sunday we will have touch cards (should I have called them “tagged” cards?) available so you can invite friends, neighbors, waitresses and sales clerks. You’ve been tagged to reach out-- think of it as one way of "going into the highways and hedges" and "compelling to come in" (Luke 14). And then this Sunday (or on Easter) when you walk through the doors you will tag us—and we will do our best to lead us all to the place where we can encounter a holy God!
OK… you’ve been tagged! Go for it!

My Valentine Dilemma

2009-02-13T17:14:00.000-05:00

As Valentine’s Day approaches, I have a dilemma. What do I give my wife to commemorate the day? I’ve seen several television commercials and heard many radio ads that have tried to assist me with my predicament. They have indicated that to be considered a good husband I must do one of the following things:

· Purchase chocolates from a guy named Russell. With apologies to the Stover family, Karla would not want me to purchase chocolates in a heart shaped box.

· Buy flowers. As some of you know, last year I purchased my wife tulips. Unfortunately, they were dead tulips. So while I won points by not spending too much money (I got them half price), I lost what little points I might have gained by spending even one penny on dead flowers.

· Get diamonds in the shape of two hearts designed by that TV cowboy doctor lady. With apologies to “Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman” aficionados, I think the good doctor should stick to homespun cures on the range rather than jewelry designing.

· Order a teddy bear made in Vermont. If Karla was six or seven years old this would be a great idea, but since she is slightly older than that—I am not sure that purchasing her a stuffed bear from the Green Mountain State sends the message, “Your husband really loves you.”

· Send a Pajama gram. I’m pretty confident Karla does not want me picking out her pj’s. My idea and her idea of the perfect pajamas are rarely the same.

· Name a star after her. The last thing Karla would want is for me to waste my hard earned money on naming a star after her. I can see it now: In the 14th sequel of Star Wars, in a galaxy far, far way Luke Skywalker flies his spaceship into the blinding glare of a Super Nova and informs the star base command, “I am approaching Karla Prince. She looks hot.” That’s just weird.

Now please understand I certainly want my wife to consider me a good husband. But do I really have to purchase any of those things to prove it?

While I joke about them, none of those aforementioned items are bad (although seriously… who would name a star after someone?). There’s nothing wrong with flowers or chocolates or Vermont-made teddy bears. There’s nothing wrong with heart-shaped cards and candies and jewelry.

But can I tell you—as tasty as a candy heart may be-- the heart I want Karla to know best isn’t made of chocolate or diamonds. It’s the heart I gave her nearly twenty one years ago in front of our family and friends in Westland, Michigan. And when she looks deep into my heart, my hope is that she sees this heart of mine as:

· A loving heart. I want Karla to know that I will always love her. No matter what.

· An honest heart. I want Karla to know that I will always be honest. No matter what.

· An undivided heart. I am hers and only hers.

· A pure heart. A heart that has no room for the impure sights and images from our sex-crazed society.

· A committed heart. I will not waver on a promise I made to her on that rainy spring Saturday afternoon in 1988-- that she could count on me whether times were better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer. She could count on me until to death us do part. And most importantly,

· A Christ-like heart. I am determined to be the man, husband, and dad that honors Christ.

Husbands and wives, for Valentine’s Day this year give each other a heart that is loving, honest, undivided, pure, committed and Christ-like. Determined to cultivate and develop a heart that is pleasing to your spouse and pleasing to Christ. Make your heart exude the love that Paul describes, when he wrote:

Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.

Love doesn't strut,

Doesn't have a swelled head,

Doesn't force itself on others,

Isn't always "me first,"

Doesn't fly off the handle,

Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn't revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Puts up with anything,

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7 The Message)

And if an addition to that faithful, loving heart—if you need to give a chocolate heart or a “Be Mine” cushy, velvet pillow then do that too. (Truth be told, I’m going to try it again with tulips. Only this year, I think I’ll buy living ones, even if I have to pay full price.).

My Free Breakfast at Denny's

2009-02-05T11:20:00.002-05:00

While watching the Super Bowl I saw an advertisement from Denny’s restaurants stating that on Tuesday anyone who showed up from 6 AM until 2 PM could eat a free Grand Slam breakfast. That’s free pancakes, free bacon, free sausage and free eggs. Yummy! Since I live by the motto that free food always tastes better (with the exception of free liver and onions, of course), I thought this would be a wonderful exercise for my family to partake.

When the rest of the Prince clan discovered that to take advantage of Denny’s free breakfast offer and make it to school too—we would have to leave the house around 6 AM— both the oldest cherub and my fair maiden decided that no matter how free the food was—they weren’t leaving their comfy beds.

Ben, on the other hand, shared my enthusiasm for a free breakfast. Which upon further review is a bit curious, since technically, whenever Ben goes to a restaurant with me his meals are free (at least for him). I cannot recall a time in Ben’s nearly 14 years of living when he paid for a meal when I was present. So, I’m not sure why Ben was excited to go, but I am glad he came to Denny’s with me.

Tuesday morning, before any roosters awoke, when it was still dark and very cold, Ben and I (and two million of our fellow Americans) got a free Grand Slam breakfast at Denny’s. When we walked into the Lenexa Denny’s, every seat was taken and there were approximately 40 people waiting to be seated. It was crowded. People were standing all over the place. I wasn’t sure where the hostess was to put my name on the “to-be-seated” list. I wasn’t sure how long the wait would be. I was worried they’d run out of eggs before we ordered. I was worried that I would have grandchildren before we ordered. The waitresses were having difficulty getting through the crowd to deliver the free breakfast orders to the other patrons. It was a little crazy in Denny’s.

If this day would have been a normal day (well if it would have been a normal morning—Ben and I would not have been there. I would have already had my breakfast of champions—a cup of Mickey D’s coffee—and Ben would still be asleep)—still, if this would have been a regular day and had I walked into a crowded restaurant at 6:20 in the morning, with forty people ahead of me—I would have been out of that restaurant quicker than you could say, “Where’s IHOP?”

But of course, this was not a normal day. Denny’s food was free. So I gladly stood in the foyer of the restaurant with my forty free food-loving friends. And once we were finally seated, I didn’t mind that the waitress was a little over worked and a little slow in filling my coffee cup. (Actually, I am amazed at how quickly I was served and how friendly the staff and everyone were on that morning. Believe me, I have been in other restaurants far less crowded and far less crazy, with a much more cantankerous staff and much slower service). With the promise of free food, the waiting and the crowd didn’t seem to matter much.

It was a good morning. We ate good free food; had fun conversation; and, Ben still made it to school on time. (And we saw of couple of other free pancake-loving Centralites, too!)

On the way back to the church after dropping Ben at school, I started thinking about the whole experience and wondered what I could learn from Denny’s that morning. I was reminded that:

1) People love a bargain. If it’s free… they will come. Hmm… isn’t God’s grace free? Isn’t the offer of forgiveness and acceptance free? Maybe we aren’t communicating what we need to communicate to the world—if we did a better job of letting people know of God’s free gift of salvation maybe folks would be lining up at our doors too. We need to get the word out! God’s gift is free. It’s a better bargain than free eggs and pancakes.
2) Free is no respecter of person. There were old folks and college kids. Well dressed businessman types and people who looked liked they just rolled out of bed. There were families and single people. There were black people and white people. Most of the people spoke English, but some did not. As I looked around, I thought: This is what the church should look like. All ages. All races. All together.
3) People were happy. Usually waiting in lines makes people cranky and not finding an up close parking spot makes people crabby too. But I didn’t see anyone cranky or crabby. The promise of free bacon makes people forget about those minor irritants and focus on the yummy stuff that is to come. I wish we in the church wouldn’t worry about the minor irritants and instead focused on the good that is yet to come. And,
4) When I finished my free meal and I was ready to leave, I left more than my usual tip. I assume most people did too (OK maybe the poor college kids in the booth behind me didn’t… but they were poor college kids after all). The service was good, the food was free, everyone was happy—so I wanted to share the joy of my free breakfast by leaving more tip for the waitress than I normally would have. Likewise, in the church when we experience the free gift of joy and peace from Jesus, we need to be generous and share so that others may know that deep down in your soul happiness too.

I don’t know if Denny’s is going to have a giveaway day again anytime soon. I know they got a lot of free publicity and general goodwill from their action. (I’m kind of hoping that Jack’s Stack Barbeque or better yet, Outback Steakhouse sees the light. I’d gladly eat a free juicy steak and bloomin’ onion.)—but I know this-- we can learn a thing or two from good business practices. We need to get the word out that Jesus’ love is free, and we need to get the word out that His love is open to anyone, anywhere. And for those of us who have already experienced the free gift of joy and peace, we should be happy and generous in all we do!

The family of God

2009-01-25T17:46:00.001-05:00

Does anybody remember the old Gaither Song: “I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God”? Back in the day, we would sing that song each week during the Passing of the Peace segment of the worship service. Only we didn’t call it “passing of the peace” way back then, I think we called it “Meet-n-Greet” or “Say Hey to your Neighbor” or something not all that spiritual. Anyway, we would sing Bill and Gloria’s ditty and shake a few hands and be thankful that “we were joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod.” I’ve got to be honest; I never really liked the “travel this sod” part of the song. Who travels on sod? Was that the best word that rhymes with God that they could come up with? I tried to make a better line. Maybe the lyrics should have been:

I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God,
I've been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His Blood!
Except for the guy in the first pew, we’re not very odd
For I'm part of the family,
The Family of God.

Or how about this one:

I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God,
I've been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His Blood!
Our preacher’s quite boring, to sleep you will nod
For I’m part of the family,
The Family of God.

Or maybe this one:

I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God,
I've been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His Blood!
Won’t you come to our pot-luck, but don’t eat the cod.
For I'm part of the family,
The Family of God.

OK maybe the Gaither’s version was better after all. Even with the travelling on sod line, I really like the truth the song conveys. I really am glad that I am part of the family of God. Even if an odd guy is sitting on the first pew (Hey, wait a minute, I sit on the first pew!), and if the preacher is boring (that’s me too), and even if there are questionable pot-luck entrees (been there, ate that), I am still glad that I can be included in the family of God. Let the Biblical truth sink in: We are joint heirs with Jesus! WOW! As such, I’m glad that we can come together and laugh and sing and pray and cry and connect with each other and connect with the Lord. Yes, I’m glad I am part of the family of God!

Bug-sicles

2009-01-25T17:38:00.003-05:00

I read an article this week that stated the FDA is considering a ban on a dye that is used in the making of red lipstick (That’s OK I told myself, I rarely wear red lipstick), red yogurt (I think I’ll miss the lipstick more than the yogurt. The way I do math, Yogurt = Yucky!), and red popsicles (Noooooo! Now, you’ve gone too far FDA! Why couldn’t it have been the dye used in making Orange popsicles? Who likes orange popsicles? Nobody! Red, as everyone knows, is the favorite popsicle of the people of the world. ).

The red dye in question is called carmine, and is made from the dried and crushed up body of a beetle. You read that right. Crushed bugs are in my popsicles (and lipstick and yogurt and other things I am sure). I do not know what beetle (hopefully not Paul or Ringo), still the notion that I’ve been lapping up crushed beetle parts with each lick of my red popsicle is a little unsettling. I thought I was eating a popsicle when all along it was a “bug-sicle”! Yuck!

I’ve eaten a lot of popsicles down through the years. Hundreds, maybe thousands of popsicles—and I usually ate the red ones first. It is impossible to know how many crushed up beetles I have consumed, but I fear the number is higher than the population of a small country. Excuse me while I barf.

And now, because of some reported cases of hives, sickness and otherwise bad happenings, the good people at the Food and Drug Administration are coming to the conclusion that eating dead, dried, beetle parts might not be the most healthy choice. Karla has wanted me to cut down on gluten intake and eat more salads, wait until she hears about the beetle gut popsicles I’ve been consuming for the last 45 years! Good bye popsicles!

You hear all the time about people finding gross things in their food. I have friends who have found among other things: mice parts in a dinner roll (yuck), ants in newly opened cheese popcorn (double yuck), a grasshopper in a can of green beans (triple yuck) and a tooth in a burrito (OK, that’s it… I’m making myself sick!) I guess the lesson through all of this “Oh be careful little mouth what you eat.”

You want to know what’s even grosser? (I know “grosser” isn’t a word, but in discussing the disgusting things that people have digested, I think it should be.) I’ve known people who have grossly and willingly fed their mind with even worse garbage. They have fed their brains a heaping helping of pornography and thought, “what does it hurt?” They’ve filled their head with disturbing angry music and reasoned, “It’s only music.” They’ve believed the anything but God lies of a science community and thought “Kind of makes sense.”

The Bible gives this simple instruction: “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8) In other words, feed your minds with things that will lift you up and lighten your load and help your day and illuminate the truth. Fill your head with those things that will draw you closer to God and you’ll be feeding your soul with spiritual filet mignon But fill your mind with the trash our society so frequently offers and be ready for something far worse than a case of hives caused from eating a red Bug-sicle.

WOW!

2009-01-25T17:38:00.001-05:00

Sorry I haven't been posting lately... I'll do better.

No Christmas Village at the Princes

2008-12-04T12:42:00.000-05:00

We’ve been getting our house ready for Christmas—decorations, lights, the works…but I am not getting out our Christmas village this year. That doesn’t make me a Junior Ebenezer Scrooge, does it?

You’ve seen these villages before, haven’t you? Some ceramic maker or the good folks at Hallmark or a marketing guru somewhere decided that Christmas isn’t Christmas unless you have little ceramic houses and buildings with a little light bulb inside and little ceramic people in winter clothes and little ceramic snowmen all sitting on top of white polyester fluffy stuff that is suppose to look like snow.

Every year from the very first Christmas that Karla and I shared together as husband and wife, we have had a Christmas village. In those early years, it was more like a Christmas “widening in the road.” We had two houses, a church and a post office in our “village.” But over the last twenty years, we’ve added buildings and houses and little fake people and little fake street lights. We now have a full fledge ceramic metropolitan area—the only thing missing is a little ceramic greeter for our little ceramic Wal-Mart (OK, we don’t have a ceramic Wal-Mart. If we did, we’d have to board up all the other buildings in little Christmas village, since they would have gone out of business). Anyway, you get the idea. We have a full ceramic city now.

And this year, I’m not getting it out. It’s staying in the boxes in the basement along with the unused Christmas bulbs and the Christmas lights that don’t work (seriously, how come those little blinky lights only work one year and no more; and how do those blinky lights get so incredibly tangled just sitting in a box all year? Is there a Christmas blinky light gremlin that sneaks into my house in July and ties those strings of lights in knots and burns out one bulb on each and every string?).

I am not starting a campaign to rid the world of little ceramic villages. There will be no petition drives or boycotts. I am not hoping that President-elect Obama will put a ceramic village moratorium across the land. And if you have a Christmas Village and if you are setting it on your shelves this year, I am not trying to imply that you are akin to a terrorist or a Christmas distorter of the highest order. I am just saying that for me, this year (maybe next year I’ll feel differently), I am leaving the village and the polyester snow in the box.

It doesn’t add to my Christmas cheer or joy. Sometimes when the little bulbs don’t light or the cords get tangled or the little ceramic people take a dive onto the hardwood floors and break into littler ceramic pieces or when the white fluffy polyester snow is either too fluffy or not fluffy enough—it adds to my Christmas frustrations. But even when all goes well, I am not sure how a little ceramic village sitting on white fluffy polyester snow contributes to my celebrating the birth of my Lord. A nativity scene, I get. A beautiful well lit tree, I understand. But a ceramic village sitting on top of fake polyester snow? Bah Humbug. (Maybe I am a scrooge… yikes).

After spending last Christmas in St. Luke’s Hospital, I think I am viewing Christmas a little differently this year. I think some of the things I used to think were essential to having a happy Christmas are not so essential any more.

I don’t remember the gifts I received from last year (except for a pair of slippers, that Alex promptly claimed as his own), but I do remember the family gathering around the hospital bed and the boys opening a few presents and eating a meal provided by a nice family so we wouldn’t have to eat hospital food on Christmas day. I remember feeling blessed to be alive and thankful to God for his miraculous touch upon my life. There wasn’t a tree or stockings or a ceramic village in the room, instead I was surrounded by what was truly important: family, friends, and the grace of a loving and healing God.

If you are like me, every year we say things like: “I want to keep Christ in Christmas,” and “Jesus is the Reason for the Season.” But then we go on doing the same things we’ve always done and we are just as busy and our lives are just as crowded as they have always been. And too often at the end of the holiday season we say, “Whew… I’m glad we don’t have to start thinking about Christmas until August when Wal-Mart puts the Christmas displays back up and starts playing carols over the loud speaker again.”

Well, I am hoping that this Christmas will be different. I want this Christmas to truly be more about Jesus and less about all the stuff that crowds Jesus out. I know there will be parties and gatherings. I will still be shopping and preparing for Christmas too. But I want my focus, my devotion and thoughts and prayers to be on Christ. When I read the Christmas story (that I’ve read thousands of times) I want to approach it like it’s the first time. And when we sing carols in church or when I hear them on the radio or my MP3—I want to sing maybe not with the same beauty or the same majesty of the angels in the Bethlehem sky, but with the same desire to praise the God who came as a baby born in a barn and ultimately died for me.

As I celebrate Christmas this year I want to be faithful and generous. I want to be joyful. I want to be triumphant. I want this Christmas season to truly be one that daily rejoices—even moment by moment rejoices-- in the glorious news: “For unto us a Child is Born, unto us a Son is given… and he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6)

And for this year anyway, I don’t need a ceramic Christmas village with fake polyester snow to help me celebrate the birth of Jesus.

Openin' Day

2008-11-13T16:01:00.000-05:00

November 15th is this Saturday. Back in my home state that is a very important day—the opening of firearm deer season. The roads heading north (where there are more deer than people) will be filled with men and women ready to locate a majestic, beautiful trophy buck. And shoot it dead.

When I pastored in the Great Lake State there were a few years, when I went out with some fellas on the holiday known simply as “Openin’ Day.” My intention was never to shoot one of God’s creatures; I went more for the coffee before the “hunt” and the stories of misses after the “hunt.”

Someone would loan me the necessary hunting items: a gun; a bullet to keep in my pocket like Barney Fife; and an orange hat (When I protested that orange is not my color, I was informed that state law required every human in the woods to wear orange. The thinking is that a deer would not be caught dead wearing orange, hence if a trigger-happy hunter saw something moving and it wasn’t wearing orange, it must be a deer. That was mostly bad news to rabbits and raccoons who rarely dress in orange unless they were still wearing their Halloween costume.).

I never used my bullet. Never shot a gun. Never killed a deer. (Please know that my not shooting a deer is not because I am a card caring member of PETA and think there are some moral issues with shooting a deer. Some of my best friends love hunting. Love eating venison. Love the thrill of being in the woods on the hunt. Love the camaraderie of deer camp. I have no problem with any of that—I’m just not a hunter and venison makes me puke.)

But I did like hanging out with my friends. So they would take me to the woods and set me up in a prime hunting spot. Usually I would take a pocket full of candy and my Bible and while I waited for Bambi, I would pray and sing and read and munch on chocolate bars and hope that everyone else in the woods could see my orange hat.

There was one occasion when (what I can only I assume) a deaf and blind deer walked within a few feet of me. I could hear her coming through the woods, so I sang a little louder (that has been known to send humans running for cover. Maybe I should have started preaching… she would have fallen fast asleep), but she kept coming in my direction. With my heart beating a mile a minute, I had a decision: Will I live and let live? Or will I be like Dirty Harry and say, “C’mon Doe Make my Day.” I put down my candy bar and Bible, located my gun—it was on the ground covered with candy wrappers, grabbed my bullet, wrapped by finger around the trigger and …. couldn’t do it. Even though the whole purpose for me sitting in the woods wearing a dopey orange hat was to shoot such animals, when the time came, I just couldn’t do it.

I think there are plenty of times we have the goal within our sight, our finger is on the trigger, but for whatever reason we can’t pull it. Unfortunately, this happens in things that matter a whole lot more than a freezer full of venison.

We know we need to start exercising or start attending church or start tithing or start eating better or start reading our Bible in a more consistent way or take steps on improving our marriage or call a friend and ask forgiveness or call a lonely person and offer encouragement, but we just can’t seem to “pull the trigger.”

In most cases, this is not a decision that we even have to pray: “Is this God’s will?” Of course, it is God’s will to live healthier; of course it’s God’s will to reconcile relationships; of course it’s God’s will to make improvements in our Christian practices and disciplines. The question isn’t “does God want me to do it,” but rather “am I willing to do it”. Am I willing to step out and do what I know God wants me to do? Am I willing to see the goal and move forward in faith?

The Bible says: I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back. So let's keep focused on that goal, those of us who want everything God has for us. If any of you have something else in mind, something less than total commitment, God will clear your blurred vision—you'll see it yet! Now that we're on the right track, let's stay on it. (Philippians 3:14-16. The Message). Like Paul let’s determine to stay focused on the goal and when opportunities to move forward and improve our walk with God arise, we will pull the trigger and do what we know is best!