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!!!
Thursday, March 04, 2010
COLLIDE by the numbers
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
200....Encouragement Baskets for Nursing Homes made
100....Notes to Homebound People
1200...Meals served during the 4 days of Collide
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
COLLIDE update
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!
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!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
No Varooooooom
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).
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).
Sunday, February 21, 2010
COLLIDE POSTPONED
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….
Friday, February 19, 2010
The eye doctor
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.
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.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Church that became a Doctor's Office
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Last Night's Board Meeting
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!
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!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Preaching sick.
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
Seussapaloosa is done. Next up: GOLGOTHA: Objects from the Hill
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
COLLIDE is Coming
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!
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!
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Free Grand Slam
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!
Monday, February 08, 2010
NTS Chapel
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.
Friday, February 05, 2010
Rememberin' Rasslin'
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).
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).
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Guard Rails and Speed Bumps
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!
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!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Ready
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!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
De-Cluttering Our Lives
(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.
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.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Something to Think about…
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Baby, its cold outside!
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!
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!
Monday, January 04, 2010
My favorite verse in Genesis
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!
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!
Saturday, January 02, 2010
One of my 2010 Resolutions is to Blog More
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…
So keep checking for the ramblings of Rob…
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