Recessed in Ritual

I understand differences in how people prepare for worship.  I find verbal and non-verbal cues to be important in many, if not most cases.  But views about worship settle into God as audience, and man as performer, giver or prompter (the term "prompter" should be given proper citation to my dad-in-law Joh who writes his own blog at http://joh-corrie.blogspot.com/).  I believe God is audience--but he's also in our midst, directing, proving, probing, teaching, prompting, revealing and so on.  I don't believe we can restrict God's roles to audience in worship, and I don't believe we can relegate, for instance, the Praise Team to a one dimensional prompting role.


And so, I'm wondering if Christians don't just misplace values on worship tasks?  Martin Luther King Jr. once said,  ‎"An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity."  I'd like to squish that quote smack in the middle of historically religious stigma.  Historical verbal or non-verbal cues regarding rightful value placements were how the church developed the hierarchal pedestal complex value toward pastors and priests who were often seen as more holy than anyone else.  And someone down the line decided that musicians who do extra work other than lead the congregational singing, should deem their solo work as "special music."  The greater church have become riddled with titles for tasks, and have become confused as to whether something is more or less special, a performance, a prompt or something else, and thus have become confused as to how to respond to it.  I've seen too many great musical or non-musical performers walk off stage met by legalistic silence-ridden congregants afraid of an unrighteous applause.  Furthermore, when the values are not adequately met in whatever scenario, the semantic worshipper blames their experience on someone else, and a blame-game ensues.


The quality of the sound, or music, or sermon should not shatter or shudder the joy of a group of people who can't wait to be together as children of God, knowing that God is with them.  Worship unbridled from mis-tokened titles frees audience response to song and sermon and resounds joyfully regardless, simply because God is.  In fact, in that environment, people are amazingly unshackled and allowed to burst into relational qualities previously unheard of, and that had previously felt uncomfortable.  For instance, a participant could then learn to enjoy the performer, performance, prompt, and the praise all from and by the same person.  Sometimes, when someone does a great job, they're afforded a bonus, or a promotion.  When a performer does a great job, they in kind, are afforded excellent applause, if not because they were great, but also then because they're God's.  And so applaud the performer and praise God.  Both are simultaneously good reasons to clap your hands.  A confident performer is upheld by the encouragement and appreciation just as many others are glad to be appreciated or responded to based on their own actions or generosity.


Worshipers shouldn't run willy-nilly into a worship experience.  Form and function matter.  That church leaders, workers and musicians are healthy and prepared for their task, absolutely; Most situations in or out of church are met by people whom expect good jobs out of each other.  Yet, I hope you'll flee from legalism, pietism and dogma recessed in rote ritual.


Engage in massive, infinite worship.  Sometimes we need to release our value placements from the experience.  Maybe God is our audience, but he's also the director and prompter I suppose one could say--he directs and also reminds us of our lines.  I do like that image (again see Joh Huizinga's blog).  Furthermore, a good director requires practice, and requires you to be ready to take joy in all things because He is, thereby freeing you to clap at a moments notice.


It's my view that when Christ said that if an action (feeding the hungry, dressing the naked) was done to the least of men, it is also done to Him (Matthew 25:40), his broader message was, "I love a cheerful giver, give to my glory, do not expect the seat of honor, allow it to be given to you and then enjoy it, and be generous to all men for my glory."  This means that by praising a someone for an excellent performance, by enjoying a sermon, by appreciating an intuitive point, and by thanking or rewarding someone for their excellent work, one also acts as a man or woman who's every intended regard is to the glory of God.

Light and Worship

"Did you think that being a Christian means you need to live a bland and boring life?  Never!  Christ calls us to be spicy!"  That's the quote on my church's website.  I love the church.  I believe that we are one body, many locations; my church makes no qualms about saying exactly that.

My friend's waiting for a flight at the Denver airport.  He texted me saying, "I guess I get to do worship on my own.  I have several sermons on my phone."  He went on to say, "There are a lot of people in my church that would not consider that worship."

There's so much worship out there.  Pastor Mike asked us when was the last time we simply stopped confounded by some amazing creation moment.  I drove into my driveway a few days ago and a doe skirted in front of my car and ran past.  I drove into the garage, walked out of my garage, and there she was, a few feet off my driveway, watching me.  I stood and watched her--truthfully, I talked to her.  It was silent, it was night, I stopped confounded; I worshipped.  That a God constructed a confounding creational moment coerces me to fall, trembling, and raise my joyful hands simultaneously.  Paradoxical maybe, but God is.

There's infinite worship out there.  Not much light streams into places that can't accept a man who would worship by a headphone sermon. Not much light streams into their tiny, austere little religious holes.

Judge retention, politics and God

I need the ear, or the eyes as it were, of Christians and the non-religious alike. 

Many Americans often vote according to a candidates views about one or two specific issues such as military benefits or taxes or abortion, and some vote straight-line Republican or straight-line Democrat because that's what their family has always done. But I've met very few haters--I have met a few--but only a few.  The recent Iowa vote proved interesting not because the candidates that were chosen was an unpredictable vote, but because three Iowa Supreme Court justices were voted out of their jobs.  Their positions had come up for a retention vote.  A judicial retention vote differs from a regular election.  Voters can't vote between a list of judicial candidates and the judges do not have opponents.  Rather, the voter chooses to elect incumbent judge(s) to a further or not the judge's term in office.  Iowa retains judges if ballots cast in favor of retention outnumber votes against.  In 1962, Iowa voters approved constitutional reform replacing the judge selection by popular vote with a merit selection and retention election process. The process intends to select the best qualified applicants and judicial accountability and protects public oversight, a nation of the people, by the people and for the people.  Why must the people be involved?  Because the judicial nominating committee by the nature of the committee itself won't be impartial--like everything they need checks and balances.

The 15 member committee, as I understand it, is balanced by gender and a number of other factors, but is not balanced by political affiliation.  Currently, the board is 86% Democrat.  Of the Judges  Democrat Governors appointed 5 of the judges, and none of the 7 judges are or ever have been registered Republicans.  Judge Baker, although claiming to be independent gave thousands to the Democrats.  There are others who've donated to the Democratic party over the years including Wiggins, and Appel, the latter donated tens of thousands to Democratic party.

My point is that all of these people, including past Governors have implemented their rights within the process.  It's easy to over-politicize the system based on prejudices, but I'm alright with a process based on the rights within a system.  Does that mean the system is fair?  I don't think this process is entirely fair or impartial, but it's still a system that protects and expects judicial impartiality, and does a good job of it.  I suppose I just muddied the idea of "good", but there's nothing new there -- For example, I did good yesterday, even though I probably didn't do everything quite right.  There's another post in that sentence alone.

I voted to retain the judges, and many did not.  In the end, they were not retained.  I voted to retain them because they made many hundreds and probably thousands of decisions and many (probably not all, they are human) of them were just decisions, meaning they performed exactly as the system requires them to perform and beyond.  Thousands of times they did exactly as the citizens of the state of Iowa and the United States of America expected them too.  Some decisions fell well outside of popular opinion, but they were just and, according to them, the Constitution experts, constitutional. I agree the majority of Iowans said that they did not want something, and the Judges, said "too bad, we have to go against you on this one."  I personally can't say whether or not their political agendas biased them--I have a feeling they did--everyone has leanings.  Their political leanings probably helped usher the issue to the front of the line, and they were pleased to proceed unrestricted, but that doesn't mean they made an unconstitutional decision.  

I personally do not want the Judicial branch to become politicized.  I don't want them to have to campaign for an impartial job.  They do not necessarily have to cater to the will of the majority because they don't act as legislators, they act as guardians, unmeasured by popularity.

But the people are the last check in the balance system, and I'm for that.  We are a partial people, for one idea, against another; most of these yeses and nays are based upon partial nurturing.  I'm not afraid to tell you that I'm against abortion and by saying that I oppose legislators that are for abortion. That vote alone doesn't make me against women or against families or against men because anyone who knows me, knows better.  None of us can be pigeonhole by the vote.  I'm inconsistent because I'm partial and by no means does that make me a bad person.  I'm partial to military families and so Rep. Boswell (D) falls on my positive list some of the time. I was against some of the things Grassley (R) did, but I love his affiliations to Camp Hope and so he falls on my positive list some of the time.  Sometimes I vote for something because I'm against another something, and sometimes I vote for something because I'm conservative and sometimes I vote because I want to protect something.  My partiality is one reason why Judges should be protected from my politicizing them because they voted for or against something, and I disagreed with them.  And yet the people need to protect their constitutionally driven right that the system works because of them.

But, while I'm concerned about decisions, no political decision changes the message.  I believe God is despite the politicization of what we've decided God wants.  Sometimes we try to put words in God's mouth, and by doing so often shoot the wounded, and maim the sick.  Therefore, my message of salvation doesn't change, won't ever change whether you put me in prison for my beliefs or not.  If you're willing to politicize whomever you decide you need to protect, you're willing to put someone else in jeopardy by that very politicization.  History reveals many bad laws that allowed for the persecution of Christians, laws that allowed the genocide of the Jews, and laws that prepare eight year olds for war.  Please don't be willing.

All I'm asking you to do is come and see what I believe about God, about Grace, about the blood of Christ.  We are made of imperfect people who need God.  But I'm also certain that the majority of the Christians I've ever come in contact with, and that have become my friends are not haters, in fact most of them love more genuinely that most other people.  But they're afraid of losing the value system that they believe has held this nation together, and in some ways, they're right.  Studies show that Christians are generally happier, live longer, are sick less often, are less bitter; and yet tunnel vision sets in and Christians settle into their recessed vision of morality with the belief that these set of principles are how we can wrest this nation from the hand of the devil for God, as if God is not already intimately involved in the process of history, present and future.  

The Christian morality does, in fact, intend life's beauty to be engaged abundantly.  We don't have to compromise others because of our faith because politics doesn't change the message.  We can promote Christ to them, and God will change those whom hear us speak (II Corinthians 5:14-18) Our politics becomes our law-ridden sacrifice, when God asked for our obedience.  I fear that many of the religious, Christian or not, bend to politicizing their beliefs, or at the very least allowed professional, impassioned politickers, to influence them.  Politickers are often good people--they are--but they're also experts at knowing what information influences constituents, and it works because most constituents don't have the time for due diligence.  But these politickers are also willing to vilify someone in order to deface him or her or them.  A Christian must read Romans 13 before the process begins again in another year.  So many Christians, so many of the religious in general, and also the so many of the non-religious believe that politics will save their religion, save their beliefs.  We're asked to hate sin, we're asked to hate injustice--even judges are prone to error sometimes, and they must be held accountable.  Iowans had a right to make their own decision and I am pleased that the process again meted its voice, based on its own merits.  The people, all people have a right to decide what they believe would be best for their societies. But don't engage because you think you're holding the system in check for God.  The message of God can come from a politician.  I'm a Christian statesman, I can't be anything but Christian.  I'm also for upholding the Declaration that all men of every taste have a right to the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness according to their sense of what that means, as long as we're not every man for him/herself.  You can't ignore me, and thus I won't ignore you. God hears and listens and acts.  I'm not trying to put words in God's mouth.  Rather, God puts words in mine.  Your rights do not change my message that you need a savior.  Despite how you wish to live, it's a simple thing to believe that Christ died for your sins and rose again securing for your salvation.  It's a simple thing to believe that God reigns and simply, is.  More difficult, scary and mortifying is to believe that we're random.  You say I sound crazy, I say I sound more sane than the impossible fixation on another cause.  In the end, there is no other way.

You can try to legislate against me for that belief, you can even kill me for it.  Conversely, I can attempt to make you act Christian by political promotion.  Neither succeeds in the end.  The problem with trying to politick God is it's never right to make God relative to one's politics.  One Christian's methods, actions and word choices might deem different than another Christian's methods, actions and word choices.  Inject yourselves into politics, of course! Misguided as we are sometimes, doesn't mean we shouldn't fully vet ourselves into the American political system.  I'm not afraid to be right, and neither should you be.  Remember, God is neither Republican, Democrat, Libertarian or Independent. Therefore, your politics spewed without love is only a resounding gong or a clanging symbol (I Corinthians 13). You want an ordered and Christian-like political system--but you sacrifice so many by your feelings of what that should look like (II Corinthians 5:16 NLT).  

Look--God does not need to imbibe your politics.  He doesn't derive power from an external source, as if he needs a good weight lifting session in order to flex his muscles.  I know the words of God through Scripture and I understand what it is to guard my heart and I am fully aware of the gift of faith that streams through me.  But I live in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Judgment is God’s.  All of you are welcome at my table.  I'm not a Republican or a Democrat--I have my leanings--I am conservative, and I understand why I am conservative, and I appreciate the conservative point of view--and yet many of you on any side of a table has influenced my paradigms and I am better for it.  Either way, my politics and my country require me to be generous to all, allowed to love on you, allow you to pursue your rights, allow you to be an amazing person (II Corinthians 5:16 NLT); but my bent or yours is merely that.  I'm not saved by my political affiliation; I'd only be disappointed if I were.

As always, my ideas aren't always the right one, but in the same way, just because someone whom doesn't think like me says something is just, doesn't necessarily make it so.  What is truth though is that you and I still need a Savior.  Come and see.

Generosity

     Thought for the day:  So many people criticize, illegitimize or disparage another's church, life, career choices or habits to justify their own existence.  They can't seem to enjoy, glean or understand another's church, life, career choices, habits or hurts.  When a person does enjoy another, they're offered opportunity for generosity, showing respect for a friend, connecting each other's existence, and quite possibly growing from the experience and/or joyfully enhance or improve someone else's environment.  


     Furthermore, when someone ails, there is not a single support method.  Excellent and varied ways exist that unconditionally uphold and support another.  So many believe they deserve to be seen, deserve reward for their action or generosity--Better are those ways you joyfully serve them without being seen, without asserting merit for an action--I assure you believer, your reward will be in Heaven.  


     Better would be to more broadly define servanthood as the opportunity to take joy of someone in their own environment according to their own needs and to take joy in that experience.  Find and then take advantage of the opportunity to be generous.

Land of the Unlikely

I live in the land of the unlikely, always striving to live my own life, to accomplish my own accomplishments, create my own success and to establish my identity; and most efforts against profound odds.  Uniquely and paradoxically, I become predictably unpredictable, meaning the more I work to establish my own unique identity, the more there is to understand about me.


I live the the land of the unlikely.  My wife's family lives in the land of the unlikely.  My dad-in-law chased his future wife from the Netherlands to the United States and well before even being awarded citizenship, he was drafted into the American Army to go to Viet Nam, fought and lived, and was again denied citizenship.  It was eventually awarded.  My mom-in-law's family moved to the U.S., some moved back to the Netherlands, than moved back to the U.S. again.  All suffered searing anxiety and stress.  I'm not sure that my wife's Grandma ever truly found her identity in the U.S.


My in-laws have spent a total of about 32 years in Europe, many as American citizens, meaning they went "home" as foreigners.  We live in the land of the unlikely.


It seems there's so much that separates us, drives us apart.  It seems we get hung up on our presuppositions or ideas about any one thing, and many deem petty.


Even Oma K. has lived uniquely.  And yet when we were there, on one of her surfaces set a silver teapot, the kind of teapot that graces many Dutch homes.  I felt connected and familiar.  Familiar things, familiar foods and familiar activities connect many who live unlikely days.


Christ himself lived uniquely.  Despite his unique life, and despite my unlikely days, his people were never meant to separate one from another.  We're called a "body" and the body, no matter what might seem to separate one part from another, the body continues in support of the rest of the body.  Each unique body part, full of their own needs, their own ways and their own identities, exists in tandem, in connection to the rest.


I, like many of you, live an unlikely life living in unlikely days, always striving to live uniquely, to accomplish my own accomplishments, and to establish my identity. 


But I am not an island; I am familiar.  And I am...we are connected.

Prayers and Doubt

Can't remember when I wasn't able to write, but that's been me since Christmas.  Every reason I had to write from motorcycle trips to family and friend turmoil to my obvious calling into Counseling were also the reasons I couldn't write.  I've resolved to write again.  I might move further into poetry.  I did a reading a few weeks ago and one of the sponsoring writers came up to me after reading and said, "Your stuff is upper tier, world class even."  I don't yet know what to do with that information, and I'm not sure what I'll write.  But I know what God's put in me to do, writing being one of them.

I'll write when I can really, but I hope to twice a week.  Every Tuesday and Thursday, I'll write; about what I've no idea.  Maybe I'll write what I've learned from family and friends.  We had a horrible storm here not long ago, you would've enjoyed hearing how fast friends dropped what they were doing to help us and others.

I guess we all write about faith in one sort or another.  God reveals faith to us in greater and maturing stages throughout life, but we all had all the faith we needed the day we were born.  The lot of us, our stories, enlightens others and ourselves to our faith enduring and growing.

Mine's confused me and strengthened me since Christmas.  I took my first motorcycle trip through the back roads of rolling Iowa.  "May the hills rise up to meet you...", they did.  But God parted clouds; it was a day before the trip and it looked like rain.  I prayed for no rain, but also told God, "If you make it rain, that'll be ok too," thereby letting God off the "hook."  More importantly, I realized that doubt laces most prayers--"but if you don't, it's ok."  God parted clouds, not because he felt guilty--but I believe he watched us ride, and while there were other reasons God didn't make it rain where we were, I think he intended to give us dry ground, and he intended to teach me about prayer laced with doubt--a loving "what not to do" lesson from God.

Maybe I'll write about the news or politics or the American people.  We'll see I suppose.

I'll figure it out on Thursday, but bet it'll be about some way God prodded me to see him; happens all the time.  There are reasons God took me away from here for awhile--those secrets will be told eventually.

Either way it's good to see you today God.

A Colorful Mish-Mash called Legacy

"Oh, it's my coloring book!  My Oma gave that to me," said Monique.

She wore a nostalgic smile on her face if ever there were a nostalgic smile.  I looked at the colored pictures and touched the color as if it was asking.

"I love it," I said.  "It's hard to explain, but all those lines and shapes were done by such a different you, and still the same you."

"Feeling introspective today love?" she asked.

"I suppose, but you're standing here right now and I'm looking at something a you I never knew did.  I have fun with the paradox."

"You're definitely feeling introspective," she said.  "But it is fun to remember."

Such a long time ago, but her five year old artistry was still there.  A mish-mash of blue and red, yellow and green mushrooms, fairies, princesses, puppies and flowers.

Dust the book for finger prints.  Maybe I'd hope to see five year old mirror image prints of a 30-something year-old woman.  I wouldn't hope for it, but maybe Oma's ("Grandma" in Dutch) prints are there too.

My mom found some old letters that she'd written to a friend when she was twelve.  Her children gathered one weekend and we found the letters on the table.  We enjoyed this hilarious form of history.  Mom is forever branded the gossip queen!  But her children touched the ink, her ink, and read words of their mother.

I've read letters from my Grandmother, written many years ago.  She's long gone, nary a ripple of her breath left, except the letters.  I've touched them, grazed over her finger prints.  We all know the scratches of pen to paper and I can hear that too...the scratches are left in the wind and the ink maintains it's dark sky blue, the blue you see a moment after dusk when the sun's almost ready to turn her lamp off.

I remember the smell of Grandma's house.  The letters used to smell like her house.  I guess maybe it's like wine though...there really is no apricots in Chardonnay, but you can smell them anyway.  I suppose they smell like my mom's house now.

I enjoy the life God's chosen for me, I do.  I can't say that's always been, but...it is now.  I'm writing today, it's me, it is.  I wonder though, are some of my letters out there?  You'll not find any fingerprints here.  I guarantee your computer doesn't smell like my house.

Who delights over an uncle?  I mean I love my Nephews and Nieces and I know they love me.  I have so much fun with them, and anyone who knows me knows that I'd do anything for them; I'd hang upside down on the ceiling if it would make them happy.  I'm elated by them, charmed by them.  I'm gratified by their happiness.  But let's be real; post funeral they won't find my letters and graze their fingers over the ink.  They won't read my favorite kid book "A Day At The Zoo" and listen for my six-year old voice memorizing every word.   They won't.  I believe I'll simply go away.

I don't feel sorry for myself, I'm lamenting and there's a difference.  I enjoy God's path for me.

Siblings remember and remember well, but no one has keepsakes of a brother or sister...not many anyway.  They'll keep something if they die young, but when they die at 40 or 50...they simply don't.  They sinply remember.  My children won't keep my things, I don't have any.  My letters won't find gleeful groups pining for another line.

Don't tell me it's not a big deal, we all think about it...we want legacies, we want a family line.  Many, if not most, if not all of you will live many years after your death by the hands of your children.

I am lamenting, not feeling sorry for myself.  I needed to say that again.  The sky is blue today and I and my bride are headed out doors and I love that!  Maybe we'll hop on the bike and head out toward a late season ride to everywhere, I don't know yet.

Sixty years from now no one will care about my Triumph Adventurer, except for the guy I sold it to that hopefully will keep the classic bike pristine.

Your children will look after you when your gone.  I suppose Angels will tend to me.

Who remembers an Uncle anyway?  Regretfully, I couldn't make it to all my uncle's funerals.  I loved them too.  I wanted so bad to be there, but I couldn't.  I have some photos, nothing else.  My Uncle's children and his bride have the rest. I don't have rights to my Uncle y'know?  I don't have anything and I'm not entitled to it because their children carry the articles of legacy.  I suppose someone will go through my home and hold a big garage sale.  Some of you are in the will y'know.  You won't keep the rest most likely, and I know the Angels won't care one way or another.  But will my nephews and nieces feel like they have the right?  The entitlements?

It's ok actually.  The life God's chosen for me comprises of catalytic adventures and I for one tremble gratefully by the hand of my Abba.

Oh but I love my family.  We gather together like tidal waves and oragami, sometimes we're a force to be reckoned with, sometimes we're delicate.  Actually sometimes we're delusional and sometimes we're amazing and sometimes we're emotional.  Sometimes we're reminiscent and sometimes we're aggressive and sometimes we're happy and sometimes we're soulful and sometimes we're joyful.  We always delight over each other in good and bad, and...we're always amazing.

Maybe I'll go before my parents do.  They'll keep some of my stuff.

I imagine though, that when I'm old, and my nephews and nieces have grown, and my three siblings have grown old with me, that there'll be chatter when I'm gone.  They'll remember for awhile.

Chatter doesn't smell like anything.  Does it need to?  Naw...we'll talk again in Heaven.

But I have some laments, I'm not feeling sorry...my children don't look like me and won't carry my things for me.  I don't have any.

And who delights over an uncle?  Maybe my nephews and nieces will be gladdened by memory of me.  Maybe they'll dust off my old treasure box.  I hope so, and don't call that arrogant.  We all hope so.  It's not self-righteous to desire gladness and not disappointment from friends and family.

I think it's more important though that I won't die alone.  I know my family and I will not die alone.  I am so grateful to God for allowing me that piece of the path.

I realized recently that all of life mirrors God.  Some of you don't believe that.  I can't help that you don't believe, but it's true anyway.  My mom and dad searched me and they knew me.  They followed me day and night.  They knew when I sat and when I rose.  They hemmed me in from either side and nary a hair could fall from my head without their knowledge.  They protected me and guided me.  Even when I strayed they were there.  They and many others banded me by prayer.  Even when I fell their hands raised me up.  Therefore even my darkness was not too dark for them.  Their hands held me fast...

I lament sometimes, I'm not feeling sorry for myself.  You've discovered I'm so very fortunate.

They're just things really; foolish to worry.  Foolish.

Of course I'll wait for you in heaven, of course.  Everything points toward God.

Talk about a legacy.  You and I will not live and will not die alone, on either side of eternal life.  The rest is dust.  But I encourage you to write...actually write something on a piece of paper.  Someone will graze their hands over your ink.  Write something and leave the shiny new computer closed.

Delight in each other...please.

Family--by rje

I do not feign my soul to keep

To hide in wiles of the deep.

I do not take my life so vein

Resplendent in the prospect wane.

In urushiol green the tine have passed,

A peaceful breath and natures last.

My eyes have seen the earthen mast

And driven forth in dreams and asp.

I yearn to reach the thinning skies

Where oft the eyes of effort lies.

To be more blessed by sanguine breeze

Atop the billows and swarthy trees.

And yet supine and undisturbed

The skies unbroken, not a word.

Acknowledge me this very night!

And break in veins to know my plight.

Each day I wake my hand is filled,

Each day alive and love is willed.

To till the earth and reach the skies

To greet the young, consult the wise.

If I should die before I wake

I pray your grace before them make.

I pray my soul be laid with thee.

I pray my heart be saved for these.

I believe in blossomed joy,

Of Heaven’s poignant mirth.

And I believe, bereft of she

A blackened hole of frightening girth.

But God dost know my spirit’s whim

Designed by time, willed by Him.

And I believe before I die

He walks beside the fire and I.

On the wall a portrait be

Pride of heaven joined by thee.

The bride and groom and sunlight’s glee

A sign you’re never leaving me.

Before I wake, Christ holds our soul

Our fallow breath, our whisper low.

The morning dew the cock does crow

And life again within us sown.

And so each morn I wake and write

Lest we forget love’s even sight

A story binds my nest to home

I shall not die alone.

Lifeboats and Motorcycles

The Triumph Adventurer rolled down interstate 29 south, opposite the direction I needed.  She was shackled into chocks; her muscles failed.  Monique and I had never taken a long interstate run.  We were three hours in and one hour short.  She didn't give up necessarily.  She growled, but had no bite beyond 45 mph.  That was difficult for me.  As those who ride know, the road and wind might as well be vitamin C.

All that gear and no place to go.  The rider stumped and the riderless shackled.

Life gets to me that way.  I've got the tools, the gear.  I ask for one good day, then something breaks.

Many of you have heard the story of the man and the flood.  The man prayed for God to save him from the flood.  Soon a rescuer in a boat floated by and yelled for him to jump into the boat.  The home owner declined believing God would save him.  Another boat came and the same scenario.  The dire moments had arrived and the house would soon be covered by waters.  A rescuer in a helicopter flew in and attempted a rescue but the homeowner again declined, believing God would save him, even when waters rushed by.  The man drowned, and he went to Heaven.  He asked God why he wasn't saved from the flood (The theology behind the story might be debatable, but continue listening!). God said, "I sent two boats and a helicopter..."

I asked for one good day.  We've been stressed.  I called my friend who lives in Sioux City, but he was in Minneapolis vacationing.  He told me, though, to hold tight.  Five minutes later he called me back and said a truck and trailer were on their way.  My friend owns a motorcycle.  Brad petitioned another friend to hitch up his own trailer to his friends truck and go to help me out.  Chris would take my bike to Brad's house, until I returned to Sioux City on Monday, at which point we'd figure out what to do.  I waited forty minutes or so when Chris, the truck and trailer, motored in.

In the mean time my Dad suggested I call my sister and brother-in-law.  My two sisters, their families, myself and Monique and mom and dad were to spend the long holiday weekend together at Lifelight Music Festival, the largest free Christian music festival in the country I believe.  So I called them.  Turns out they were five miles past our location.  They turned around, unquestioningly agreeing to haul us and our gear to Sioux Falls with them.

We arrived at the festival site on Friday night... disappointed, frustrated, stressed and worried.

One good day, God.

We vented a few moments before some of us decided to attend one of the concerts--the group Kutless was playing and I wanted to see them.  They put on a somewhat raucous concert full of haunted lyrics and emotional music.  And yet their show was fun, energetic and uplifting.  The air was cool and the breath fresh.

The flood story relates, you see.  I got rescued.  One good day.  Two actually.  There are no Triumph dealers in Sioux City.  My dealer and service station is in Des Moines, three hours away.  Brad's a police officer and had to work Monday night at Eleven.  He and I met at his house at 4 p.m.  He and I had resolved by phone that he would take me and the bike to Des Moines that night.  Brad felt it to be the best idea out of several difficult scenarios.

And so he did.  He drove three or four hours from Minneapolis, hitched my bike to the truck and drove me three hours to Des Moines and then had to drive back to Sioux City where his job awaited him.

One good day.  The best of friends, God's providence, and miracles galore.

The hairs on my head are numbered says writer Luke, quoting Jesus himself in Luke 12.  And so this morning I learned for the millionth time how to pray.

I'm feeling tired. I didn't sleep last night, but went to my Wednesday morning men's bible study anyway.  At 2 a.m. I was sure I wasn't going to go.  But my friend Neal said that when he's up and can't sleep, he reads his bible, and finds himself at peace.  I did that this morning.  I read Psalm 73, Matthew 4, Luke 12...Neal was right, my angst lessened, and I hung out with God.

So I went this morning--a hundred men get together, have breakfast, chat and study God's word.  We call it "PIGS"--that's "Pretty Important Guy Stuff."  Pigs was pretty good.  Pastor Richard began a series on Prayer.  He said some very profound and simple things.  Like when Jesus taught us to pray saying ABBA.  Richard stopped there.  Abba.

Christians know the prayer..."hallowed be thy name..."  Christians recite the rest of the prayer solemnly and reverently, many times in respectfully toned unison.  Abba, Father.

Christians over time manipulate the prayer into this reverent,  "Thou, Thee, Yahweh" prayer.  We've filled the prayer with pharisaical rancor, denying what God always wanted--to dote on his people.

Thou's, thee's and Yahweh's" actually serves to fill us with doubt.  "God is too big, God is too fearful..."  We want to sound respectful or reverent, but our attempts at "respect" only serve to create distance between God and I and deny the words of Christ who at the pinnacle moment, revealed a God who prefers to be called, "Dad".  Instead, our prayerful words prove to those around us that God is to be feared in such a way that he is almost unapproachable.

So Jesus taught us something different.  And that difference really meant something to me this morning.  In my tired, fearful, disappointed place, were Jesus words, "Abba Father."  And what Jesus began teaching with two words--"Dear Dad..."

One of the lead singers said this weekend to a group of 100,000 people, "We are not the sum total of our choices, no.  You and I are the sum total of God's choices."  My mistakes do not turn away a doting father.  My failures only prove to teach how saved I really am.  This man said, "We are not a people here struggling to be free, we are a people free to struggle and to then have an honest conversation with God."

An honest conversation with God.  There are several contained in the bible, and I've had several in the last few days.  One good day God!  Please!  But, I'm a son leaning on my dad.  Jesus taught me about that.

And so I prayed that way this morning.

"Dear Dad, I know you love me and the hairs on my head are known.  I know, because you are my dad, that you will walk with me and even carry me when I need.  I know you will guide me past temptation.  I know that, because you crown me more gloriously than the sparrow, you will always fill me with bread.  And even if I am hungry, my heart will rejoice because your kingdom comes, and is here.  Your power is, and yet your just ways provided me with mercy and with grace.  I don't understand everything dad.  I guess I am just a kid.  But one day I shall fully know.  What I know dad, is that you are glorious, and I love you."

"One good day God." ... ... "Dad?"

Unconditional Love Never Needs a Reason

I've spent the half a year really speaking not only of relationships, but what it really means to commit yourselves to them. I've written about myself, my birth defect and my accomplishments. I've written about my wife, her radiance, her beauty, her generosity, her kindness and her love for me and her friends. I've written of the many amazing RAGBRAI riders and how their lives intertwine with others all week long. I've written how none are left alone on the road. I've written how some battle the forces of time by their accomplishments and how others are humbled by them. I've written how the best of men return from battle only to be vilified at home. I've written of their strength while their country turned their backs on them. I've written about how one man, forty years removed from battle, saluted my dad, a Viet Nam Vet and said, "Welcome home brother." I've written about a group of Vets that my Dad-in-law has connected with, and how, even now, their bond brings healing. Even now no man gets left behind.


I've written how it is we ought to live together. I've written that it's okay to disagree, to quarrel, to struggle. But then I told you that together you must find the way to repair each other.


I've told you what it is to love.


I tried hard to help you to view others in light of their story. I've told you that for your story to be heard, you must first listen to the story of the other. I've tried to help you magnify your joy for the triumph of others, and by your joy they will also share your triumph. I've told you to listen to instruction, to gain wisdom from rebuke and to enjoy rewards together.


the best relationships, the best friends are those that bear the joys and trials of the other. The best relationships and the best friends take us with them no matter where that is. The best relationships and the best friends don't need "permission" to take the other with them on whatever journey is being engaged. And committed relationships and the best of friends accept the baggage of the other. They're willing to lug that baggage with them, and in many cases, lug the baggage for them. The best relationships and the best friends know that baggage sometimes takes a long time to shed, walls are sometimes difficult to knock down and illnesses sometimes take forever to heal; sometimes they never heal. The best relationships and the best friends love you till the ending day and even the days after your last. The best relationships and the best of friends want to be there to watch you shed the baggage, tear the walls down, and fight the most feared battles.


The wiles and wills of mankind are often to walk alone, separate from another. You nor I need work long to prove this.


It is often the wiles of mankind to take every disconnect and to threaten, even in jest, to leave another.


It is often the wiles of mankind to spend more energy giving up, giving in, than living hopeful, faithful lives.


Even my last two stories were intended to help you discover another.


Unconditional love never looks for a reason not to love. Unconditional love never desires a reason to leave.


I won't necessarily move away from this theme, but I'm going to look for different themes now as well. Maybe you'll look back at past posts to help you find the best and most courageous of your own path.


The video below reveals a dance about one of our worst fears...breast cancer. By this dance you can find how the strength of unconditional love bridges the gap between fear and courage. It reveals how, even at the weakest points, even when the hurting wish to give up, to run away, the other will be there for them and with them. It will show you the unending strength of those with hope and the need for the truest friends when it seems there is none.


The dance will inspire you to wake up and live now. And it will inspire you to be the most amazing friend, the strongest heart, and the best of companions. The journey never ends--what matters is that you travel together.


Watch and live.

Of Chipmunks and Men

"Haaaaaaa!" 


Camper Neal Smith jumped from behind some brush yelling and screaming, hoping to give Rick a scare.  Thought it'd be funny.  Rick was studying one thing or another in the forest for the last forty-five minutes and it was driving Neal nuts.  

"Son of a!"  Rick shuffled nearly four feet backwards.  He moved so fast, it was like time travel.


Neal didn't enjoy idle time.  They'd entered an amazing state park complete with abundant exploration possibilities and an awesome beach.  Neal could think of no acceptable reason they should be sitting around. Joe was mesmerized by the fire, and Rick was, well, he had no idea. 

"Rat bastard." said Rick.

"What?"

"The chipmunk!," Rick replied. He was pissed. "I've sat here for almost an hour with this stupid bread in my hand, and my chipmunk was three feet from eating the bread from my hand."

"Your chipmunk?" asked Neal. I don't think it's the bread that's stupid; who spends an hour on their knees waiting for chipmunks to eat bread out of their hand?"

"Me," said Rick, "Judas."

And yes, my chipmunk, Rick continued. "I don't have to explain."


"He's not tame, he's not yours," joked Neal.


"Well I wasn't holding out for any other chipmunks!" replied Rick, "I only had that one...and a squirrel but he didn't last."


"How do you know it was a he." Neal never did know when to quit.  "They can't all be 'he' or there wouldn't be so many of those buggers running around."


"That's not the point.  I call them all he, that's just how it is," said Rick.  "Short of catching one and tipping it over, they're all 'he'.  I probably couldn't tell the difference anyhow."

"I am not even going there," said Neal.  "Doesn't matter.  I want to do something like hit the beach."  

"When I camp I do three things," said Rick, "smoke a cigar, drink a beer, and try to get a chipmunk to eat from my hand," said Rick.

"Who does that?" asked Neal.

"I think we covered that already," said Rick. "Anyway, waiting here...the forest calms me.  It's peaceful for me. I listen to the sounds in the forest...sort of like get in touch with nature or whatever."

"Who does that?"

"Who turned you into a friggin' broken record player?"

"What?" Neal had his eyes closed. He rubbed his forehead. "Let's do something."

"I mean, there's something amazing about getting a wild animal to trust me. It's like I think it was when Adam and Eve were created," explained Rick.  "I suppose I'm like one of the trees to them, I don't know."

"You're a tree with Wonder Bread branches," said Neal.  "Awesome."  


Neal paused, "But you're a biker. There's not a Harley man in the world that tries to get chipmunks to eat from their hand," said Neal, "You've got a skull on your gas cap and now you're taming chipmunks."

"It's a God thing man," said Rick, "And the bike came with the gas cap."

"Really?" said Neal, "You should find one with a little heart on it or something."

"Funny," said Rick. "Either way, I'm sitting there in complete silence, as still as possible, and the wind blows, birds sing, and chipmunks appear out of nowhere. Stuff happens man, I'm telling you."

"Dude, that's cool, but I think I'd probably fall asleep face down on the bread and the chipmunk would probably gnaw through my nose to get to the bread," said Neal. "Totally great movie plot."

"You wouldn't fall asleep," Rick replied. "Either way, when they take the bread from my hand, it tickles. Feels so cool. And the little thing is completely silent. You wouldn't believe it, but they don't make any sound. They get the bread and they're gone like magic."

"I like nature."

Neal didn't quite know what to say beyond, "I like nature." It's not like he was ignorant. He just wasn't the type to feed chipmunks.

"It's about the book of Matthew," said Rick.

"Matthew?"

"If God is willing to clothe the sparrow, how much more blessing will be given to me?" said Rick. "Accept I think the analogy works for chipmunks too."

"That's deep," said Neal. "You feeling insecure?"

"Sometimes," Rick replied. "It's just good to know, that's all."

"A chipmunk feeding Harley dude," said Neal, "That's just funny. Now let's do something!"

"What do we do?"

"Joe's by the fire, let's go and figure that out," replied Neal, "We'll go swimming or play catch, I don't care."

Neal and Rick joined Joe by the fire. Joe stared into the flames. 

Neal sipped his luke warm beer. Rick nibbled on Cheese Nips.

"Swim?" asked Neal.

"Sure," said the two others simultaneously.

Joe, Neal and Rick, partially slouched in their chairs, sipped beer and nibbled crackers.  The fire burned and they watched, rapt by flames. The burning logs hissed and spit.  The three men, without a word, listened to the fire crackle.

A healthy chipmunk skirted from behind them, ran underneath their chairs to the other side of the fire pit. He paused to test some morsel on the ground, but then scampered silently into another part of the forest.