Prepared for Sno-megeddon 2013

I went to the grocery store to grab a quick salad from their salad bar at lunchtime on Wednesday, and the store was crowded.

 

Really crowded.  

 

Like the Wednesday before Thanksgiving Day crowded.

 

Usually when I show up at lunchtime at my local Hy-Vee, it’s me and two 84-year-olds examining the tomatoes. But this past Wednesday there were so many people gathered at the grocery store, I thought that they were giving out free boxes of Cap’n Crunch. Of course, you will recall that lunchtime on Wednesday was just hours before this year’s version of “Sno-megeddon” was to strike. And the good Kansans with visions of “Sno-pocalypse 2013” were stocking up on milk and bread as if the Y2K predictions were finally about to come true. In fact, judging by the amount of food in their shopping carts, I think the good shoppers believed the snow would not melt until Independence Day.

 

I know I’m a Michigander. As such, I am obligated to write about my growing up days in the giant Mitten with absolute zero temperatures and schools only cancelled unless the snowfall reached Sputnik. None of that is true– except the “my being from Michigan” part. Still, with risk of sounding snow-snobberish, the brouhaha over this latest snowfall seemed a little silly to me. (Honesty alert: Upon seeing the crowds at the grocery store, I called Karla to see if we needed anything before we “hunkered down for the long winter’s night.” She said we needed bananas and apples. Let it be noted that the Princes would not face the piles of snow and ice without fruit salad!)

 

If your house is like mine, you would be able to survive a night with the groceries that are already in the cupboard. Even if the roads were unsafe and no one could venture out for a day or two, I doubt that many of us would have trouble finding something to eat. There’s always an extra can of pork and beans somewhere—isn’t there?

 

And yet, my neighbors headed for the grocery store to make sure their shelves were stuffed just in case. They wanted to be prepared for a two day (at most) inconvenience. It sounds almost unbiblical that our homes (because of our inability to traverse icy roads) would become a land where there is no milk or honey. So we stocked up on the essentials. Mind you−I’m not throwing stones (or snowballs)− remember I bought apples and bananas “just in case.” If I could have found the manna aisle, I would have bought a pack of that too.

 

Here’s my point: A lot of people were making sure they were prepared for a two day “snow in.”

 

Here’s the truth: We are going to spend a whole lot more than two days time in eternity. 

 

Here’s the question: Are we equally determined to be prepared for eternity as we were for “Snowquake 2013”? 

 

Unlike the local TV weathermen, I don’t think the world is going to end tomorrow.  And I’m not trying to be Chicken Little. The sky is not falling− that’s snow. (I told you, I’m from Michigan. We know these things.) I also know this— all of us one day will have a face to face encounter with God Almighty. The question on that Day will not be, “Is there coffee and marmalade in the cupboard?” but rather, “Is Jesus living in your heart?” Paul said it this way: For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad. (2 Corinthians 5:10)

 

Forget our latest “Snow-Tsunami,” are you prepared for that Day?  

 

Four Churches in Cuba

Last Sunday I was in Cuba and went to four different churches in the morning. (I’m not implying that you are a slacker for only attending one church last Sunday morning, I’m just reporting that I happened to be in four). In fact, I’ve known people (nice people) who don’t make it to four church services in a month. Since all the churches were wesleyan in theirleanings, one could say on Sunday I experienced a Wesleyan quadrilateral of worship. (That was a little theological humor for the two Wesleyan theologians who still happen to read these musings. Don't sweat it− they didn't think it was funny either.) And don't be too impressed by my worship-times-four morning− according to our Sunday School counter extraordinaire, Ruth Vail, I only get credit for one Sunday attendance in my permanent record in heaven. Ruth knows these things.

 

The first church wasn’t technically having a service when I was there— but I was still there with the pastor and the folks on our Cuban Partnership Vision Team− and we prayed together. Haven’t you ever read the verse about if two or three are gathered in Jesus name? I say that counts. 

 

The second church was meeting in a shed. A small shed. Behind a small house that most of us would say also looked like a shed. I’m not sure which was bigger the worship house shed or the house that looked like a shed− or exactly what differentiated the shed from the house. But I know this—the people were praising the Lord as if they were in the biggest church in the world. They didn't seem to mind that they were worshipping the Creator of the universe in a shed.

 

The third church we referred to as the “bouncing church” because they were bouncing as they praised the Lord. They were singing loud, waving their arms like they were trying to run down a city bus in New York City, and, of course, bouncing like their shoes were equipped with springs. We could use a little more bounce in our church. Bouncing is good.

The last church allowed me to preach. No one bounced when I was done—but they didn’t throw rotten tomatoes or, more probable, rotten mangoes either. So I’d say it went well.

 

Here’s what I observed in the four churches I visited last Sunday:

 

No one seemed to care that the music was loud.

No one complained that the pews weren’t padded (maybe if our pews weren't padded we'd bounce more).

No one seemed to care that the conditions were not pristine.

No one seemed to notice that the preacher didn’t have a tie on. (Well, I preached in a tie, but the guy in the shed didn’t have one.)

No one fussed that the sanctuary was too cold (with 70 people jammed into the shed on a tropical island, I don't think that is ever a problem).

No one seemed bothered with the expectation that every member tithe. (In all four churches, even the shed, there was a tithing billboard next to the door with an envelope for each member to contribute. They all did.)

No one seemed to look at their watch to see if it was time to leave or checked for the latest news on their iPhone− they simply worshipped God with all their heart, soul, mind and strength until they were done (OK− truth be told, I don't think any of the folks even owned a watch and I doubt they had ever seen an iPhone).

 

The people gathered with one purpose: they were there to praise the Lord and praising the Lord is exactly what they did. I kind of wish we were more like that.

 

I wish all the external things that occupy our time and thoughts on a Sunday morning were put away, and we just determined to worship God when we gather. I hope we could be like my new found Cuban friends. Not worry so much about many of the things we worry about, and just gather in Jesus name, ready to be fully engaged in worshipping and praising our God.  

Cirque du Soleil and the Gospel

Karla and I were able to attend a cirque du soleil dinner event recently. There were jugglers, magicians, feats of strength and agility. The performers were quite amazing.

 

One lady balanced a cello with her feet above her head−juggling it and turning it all with her feet. Another lady changed her clothes over and over again in a manner of seconds. (I've asked Karla if she could work on obtaining that skill.) There was one guy, whose physique was absolutely nothing like mine, flexing his muscles and displaying his strength. (I asked Karla if that guy reminded her of me. She said an emphatic, “No!” a little too quickly for my liking.) All this to say each performer was quite amazing.

 The show began with a woman in a huge champagne glass twisting and turning. She was quite "bendy." I think she scratched her shoulder with her opposite foot after taking said foot first around her head. It hurt me just watching her. I don't even know how you get that skill (or quite frankly why you would want it−unless you had very itchy ears).

While I'm not ready to be twisting around in a big glass on a stage in front of hundreds of people, I do want to be flexible. I don't care if my foot can scratch my ear, but I do want to be able to be able to evaluate my environment and do the most good in it.

Here’s the deal: If we are serious about reaching people for Christ (our mission from Jesus is to make "more and better disciples"), then I think being flexible and willing to change in a changing world is part of it. As our world changes, we need to be "bendy" too. Not changing our message−the message of Christ is timeless−but changing our methods when necessary. Paul had this “bendy” attitude toward the methods of reaching people when he wrote to the Corinthians: “To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.” (1 Corinthians 9:21-23)

I wish one of our core values would be "everything is an experiment." The stakes (eternal life and eternal death) are too high to not try. I have too many neighbors and too many friends and acquaintances that desperately need us to keep trying, keep experimenting, and continuing to be willing to be flexible with our methods so that we might proclaim the message of Christ. 

I'm not ready to hop into a big champagne glass (and no one would want to see that fiasco) but I do want to be flexible. The message is too important.  

 

Cubbies Never Win: A Sad Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a man named Cubby who had a wonderful outlook on life. Every day he would awaken like it was a National holiday and grin like he just received straight A’s on a report card. He’d take a deep breath, pretending to be in the Rockies, as he listened to the birds singing their morning songs. The Cardinals, Orioles and Blue Jays’ squawks and tweets were like music in his ears. Even better, he planned to marry his little Philly, a girl named “Angel” in a seaside wedding. The honeymoon was to be on a Mariner’s boat where they had hopes of great adventures and catching a Giant Marlin or a Tiger shark and then living happily ever after.

  “Even if I was from a Royal family my life could not be more splendid. To be any happier, I’d have to be Twins!” he thought to himself.

The wedding day finally arrived and the warm Rays of the sun were breaking through the clouds. Like every other day, Cubby thought all was wonderful. But in his excitement and unbeknownst to him, he put on one White Sox and one Red Sox. Wearing his mismatched footwear, he made his way to the beach whistling Yankee Doodle Dandy the whole way.

Immediately, when Angel saw her potential groom and his multicolored stocking feet, her face turned Red and she stormed off the beach as if Astro particles were falling from the sky.

“Padre,” Cubby said to the minister, “Arrgg! What happened? Even though I said, 'Arrgg!' I’m no Pirate. And even though I am wearing mismatched socks, I have not been frequenting the various Brewers in my town. I'm just an unlucky guy― maybe I'm cursed."

“Be Brave as an Indian,” the minister encouraged, “I can get your Diamondback.”

“I don’t care about the stinking ring. I'm no Lone Ranger—I need Angel,” Cubby shouted as he chased after her.

After a long race, Cubby finally Met up with Angel and said, “Why did you run away?”

“Oh Cubby,” she answered, “When I saw your mismatched socks I realized how cold my feet were and I fled. I’m not sure I’m ready to be married.”

“I’ll wait for you,” said Cubby with a smile. “Even if it takes 104 years or even longer I will wait and when you are ready we’ll get married and go on a boat and catch a big fish on our honey moon.”

“Roger Dodger!” Angel said and she gave him a hug and walked away.

Cubby never saw Angel again.

The moral of the story is either:
The Cubbies always lose in the end, or
Don't get married if you have cold feet, or
Don’t wear mismatched or matching socks on the beach, or
A pastor should never attempt to write a story using all 30 Major League baseball teams― or he will end with a very goofy fairy tale with no spiritual point whatsoever.

Father and Son Father's Day Sermon

I’m a little nervous about this Sunday’s sermon. The jitters are not because of an outlandish preaching experiment that could possibly offend someone. The problem is not an extremely difficult to explain Biblical passage (It’s Proverbs 22:6: “Train up a child…”). As far as I know there is not going to be a celebrity in the crowd that would make me antsy (Both Barry Manilow and Alice Cooper will be in Kansas City this weekend. While it is unlikely, I suppose one of them could slip into the early service. But even if they do, I don’t think Pastor Kevin will do a tribute of either Alice Cooper’s “School’s out” or Barry Manilow’s “Copacabana.”). So those guys are not why I’m jumpy. I’m nervous because this Sunday my son, Ben, will help me preach the Father’s Day sermon. This will be his first ever sermon. Ever. I remember my first sermon. It was on a Sunday night in Alanson, Michigan following my sophomore year of college. I hand wrote the sermon manuscript in a blue spiral notebook. My text was from 1 Corinthians 9:24-27. In that passage Paul encouraged the believers to run in such a way to win the prize. I think I chose that passage because I knew more about sports than the Bible and that was the only sports reference that I could find in the Bible (not counting the classic biblical baseball text of Genesis 1:1, “in the big inning…”). My sermon on that night will not go in the annals of Christian history as one of the greatest sermons of all time. I preached that sermon in the summer of 1983. 29 years ago this month. And I still remember it. The good, bad and ugly—I remember it all (there was more bad and ugly than good, in case there was any doubt). Ben will always remember this Sunday. I don’t think I will forget it either. My concern is not that he perfectly articulates each point. I won't be worried if he happens to stumble through a few words (my goodness I have preached over 2,000 sermons now and if you've sat through any of those 2,000 "gems" then you know I can butcher the English language with the worst of them). Here's my prayer-- that Ben will faithfully proclaim the Word of God. I don’t care if he botches the pronunciation of “Nebuchadnezzar,” but I do care that he always is faithful. I hope that he preaches 'full of grace and truth" in a manner worthy of Christ. For our family, this Father's Day will be one we won't forget. My prayer is that God uses both Ben and I and that those listening will long remember the morning not because of what was said by a preacher and his son-- but because of what God does deep in their heart. See you Sunday-- but please leave your rotten vegetables at home-- just in case it doesn't go well I don't want to have to dodge a flying tomato.

Hosptials and Me

This week I’ve been at a different hospital each day visiting folks. Here are some hospital observations and memories:

I like hospitals with clergy parking. Kansas City’s Children’s Hospital has the best clergy parking. If it was any closer to the hospital, it would be in the operating room.

In Michigan, several hospitals have fast food franchises located inside the hospital. I’ve eaten at Wendy’s, Mr. Pita, Schlotzsky’s Deli and Little Caesars― all while never leaving the hospital. I am not sure, but I think those hospitals’ cath labs get a percentage of the profits from the fast food joints.

I know a couple of people who like the food at Shawnee Mission Medical Center so much that they will go there for lunch—even when they don’t have any family or friends in the hospital. Who needs a Wendy’s if you can have tuna casserole over rice?

I like hospitals with good, free coffee. Shawnee Mission Medical Center has several options with Keurig Coffee makers located throughout the hospital. Hot. Fresh. Nice.

Maternity wards generally have the nicest rooms in the hospital. I’m not exactly sure why that is, but I think it has something to do with the fact that after nine months of pregnancy, morning sickness, swollen ankles, maternity clothes, contractions, and giving birth, new moms deserve to feel like they are a queen at the Grand Plaza Hotel.

I was nearly attacked by a mother goose entering a hospital. It was at Menorah a few years ago—either I got too close to her eggs or one of her relatives honked about the goose liver pate I once consumed.

I was involved in an accident while praying for someone in a hospital carport. At Overland Park Regional Hospital, while I was standing on the outside of a parishioner’s car and praying with the passengers on the inside of the car, a somewhat dazed driver rear ended their car. Jesus said we could move mountains in our prayers—apparently my prayers move Chevy Tahoes.

In a Detroit hospital emergency room, I sat next to a guy handcuffed to his chair. I wasn’t quite sure how to start that conversation. “Hey, I guess this isn’t where you expected to be today…” didn’t seem quite right.

I’ve been stuck in an elevator at a hospital. Thankfully I’ve never been stuck on an escalator in a hospital.

I’ve been mistaken several times for a doctor. Unfortunately, not once in my basketball playing days was I ever mistaken for Dr. J.

One time I had a person visiting the hospital with me, and when the recently operated upon patient decided to show us his new scar (that happens a lot by the way), my guest passed out. Kerplunk!

I’ve seen more body parts, more disgusting fluids, and sniffed more unholy smells while in a hospital than OSHA requirements allow. Chalk this up to –some things they don’t prepare you for in seminary.

Some of the most needed and meaningful times of sharing God’s grace throughout my years of pastoring have taken place in hospitals. Praying, counseling, reading scripture, crying, laughing, hoping, expecting, and leading a few people to Christ—have all happened on hospital visits.

I think Jesus would be at hospitals. Matthew 4:23-24 says, “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. News about Him spread all over Syria, and people brought to Him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralyzed; and He healed them.” Seems to me if we want to be like Jesus—we’ll be where sick people are too.

All this to say: I am thankful for the opportunity to serve and I love seeing God’s healing work and loving presence in the midst of the challenging moments of life. And of course―the added bonus when at Shawnee Mission Medical Center—you can get all of that grace, a good cup of coffee, and a tasty lunch too!

Monday Confessions

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

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)

"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

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

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

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

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)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.