Fear

A couple of nights ago I woke up at 2:17 a.m. Thanks to digital chronometry I can now be aware of the exact minute I awake and exactly how long I remain awake, which for some strange reason seems to create insomnia not prevent it. So there I lay awake worrying about the strangest thing. I was listening to the heater fan turn on and off, mostly on it seemed since the temperatures have dropped below freezing. I remembered lying awake in the summer and hearing that same fan motor turning on and off with cooling. I Lay there thinking,"That stupid off brand contraption is going to wear itself out in no time and I'm going to have to come up with 10K to fix it. I don't have 10K or anywhere close to that. What am I going to do?"

Fear, it seems to have no boundaries, no particular focus, it comes and goes with almost anything we have to face in life. I've awakened in the night fearing Satan himself was going to drag me out of bed and into hell. I have found myself afraid during the early a.m. sleep shift of not knowing what to wear. Fear can attack anywhere, about anything, for any reason.

The nice thing for me is that it drew me into prayer. Who can face such obstacles as Satan or over productive furnaces apart from God? Who can face the fact that our lives hang daily in the balance between all kinds of arbitrary circumstances, situations over which we simply have no control.

It takes some time but eventually God has a way of calming our spirit and helping us get back to the place where we are able to sleep. I'm thankful for the interruption, and I'm thankful for the time alone with God. I understand why Jesus spent whole nights praying after and before busy days. I'm thankful for the reminder that I'm a very dependent being, completely dependent upon my Father in heaven for just about everything.

busy weekend

Here I am, preparing for Sunday's sermon. What I need is long quiet stretches of time to think and reflect on what I've been studying. I need a good nights sleep filled with enjoyable, forgettable dreams. What do I get? A long stressful meeting lasting long into the night. A short nights sleep as I wake up at 5:30 having gone to bed at 11:30. And today is filled with more stuff to do from last night. My mind is way too cluttered with all kinds of random and complex thoughts. I'm tired. I might make it till noon, if I'm lucky. And I have a long way to go before the magic hour of Sunday morning.

It is a busy weekend.

A New Sign of Age

I looked in the mirror this morning and there it was large and black balanced there near the end of my nose. What a nice black head I thought. Then I looked again in the mirror, more generally at myself and thought, I'm not sixteen anymore, that can't be a black head. I took stock of my present age, almost half a century, put my reading glasses on and looked again. With terror bordering on hysteria I realized, "Its a hair!!"

Reason eventually took over again and I examined carefully the burned out, worn out ground upon which this tender shoot of keratin was growing. How could anything flourish on such a wasteland of damaged derma. But there it was in all its black glossy glory growing like a weed. So I pulled it out.

Monday morning wait

So here I am waiting in the early light of Monday morning. Waiting for emails, waiting for the kids to get up for school, waiting for an answer to my car dilemma, just lots of waiting. At least on Monday mornings I get to wait around for these various things, in my pajamas, writing leisurely on my computer.

I don't like waiting, although I imagine no one really likes waiting. It would be nice to have some resolution on things like, should I get a new transmission for our ten year old van? Will I hear back from the literary agent today? Perhaps they will be resolved perhaps not. We will just have to wait.

The Sunday after Thanksgiving

I just heard today that the Sunday after thanksgiving is always a low performance Sunday and a high visitor Sunday. True, performance was down. Everyone seemed distracted and timid. My sermon was unfocused and we had several fumbles on the goal line from the participants. Fortunately for us few visitors braved the mild North Carolina air to come watch us stumble through the service. I realize that a worship service is not to be a performance, but it is still very disconcerting when the microphone doesn't come on for about 30 very long seconds. For a pastor that is a taste of eternity. Its frustrating when it takes two people another 30 seconds to figure out how to light the lighter to light the advent candle. You must admit that it steals away the serene, calmness of candle light and softly spoken scripture to watch two people wrestle with a bic lighter to find where the safety button is located.

The sermon was a different issue. I'm not sure why God does this to me. I finally figure out the impact point about 15 minutes before the service. True, it could be just my hard headedness. Not listening to the Holy Spirit and all, but then who knows maybe God likes to test my trust factor. I could use some clearer thinking earlier in the week. But on the week between Thanksgiving and the first Sunday of advent much of my time is spent thinking about turkeys and Christmas trees, not a lot for sermon application. Although I'm sure that plenty of sermon application material happens to me during that same time.

Next time we'll plan for advent during the summer. In North Carolina it feels like summer at Christmas anyway for us Wisconsin transplants so whats the difference between planning a Christmas service during 85 degree as opposed to 75 degree weather? Next time less Turkey and more Christmas tree maybe? Next time we'll just shut down after Thankgiving and not open up shop till New Years.

Happy New year ya'll.

The Fragile Emotional Economy of a Seventh Grader

I just took my son to school to speak with the principal (sp? Oh yes the principal is your pal). No seventh grader this side of Mars or Venus believes that the principal is his pal. Alex was terrified on the right of suddenly having become “visible” to the man who controls the school by striking fear into the hearts of small boys. Did I say small? That is the strange thing about middle school. I’m walking Alex in the door and, being in the south, and attempting to teach my son the behaviors of a gentleman, we held the door open for several young ladies. Three of the young ladies looked and sounded way too mature for 8th graders. I assume they were. Following closely upon their spiked heels were three first graders!!??? I’m not sure. They look as though they were weaned off their binkys just yesterday. Seriously, in two years of age differential there must have been two feet of height differential. It has got to be tough to be a middle schooler.

Back to the “pal” guy. On the left it has to be difficult for Alex because the principal wants him to “rat” on the teachers. Oh yes, we were in the office to complain, whine, I mean, express our slight alarm that the math teacher, by her own words, was not too interested in giving our children homework. The other alarming thing, something I didn’t tell the principal, was that she was going to teach my son, “maff” or “maph” not sure which. Now I realize that there is not necessarily a correlation between good diction, pronunciation and the ability to teach “maff”. But it is not exactly reassuring to a parent who wishes for their child to get the best education possible that public school has to offer. To ask my son to “rat” on his teachers to the “pal,” I believe breaks several cardinal rules of middle school etiquette. I believe that the unwritten rule of middle school rules for kids states quite clearly that it is deeply offensive to be a rat of any kind, but to “rat” on a teacher or student to the “pal,” is the deepest betrayal of all humanity, its like turning down an ice cream cone from your grandmother. Its like hating pepperoni pizza, its like backwashing in someone’s can of Mt Dew, its… its… unthinkable.

So how does my son navigate emotionally through these moral mountains that tower over him in middle school? How does he handle the fact that three boys in his class have been shaving since the first grade, and he still has a high voice? I remember so well those years with fear and gratefulness. Fear, as terrifying memories of Doug Phelps and Benito Ramirez threatened to drag me back into post dramatic stress disorder. I’m sweating just thinking about it. And gratefulness that I never ever have to go back to middle school again, ever.

Perhaps my son will be braver than I ever was and find his way through this strange middle school world which is worse than James Cameron’s Pandora. Go get em (sqeak) Go get em, Alex!!

Its Great to be the King

Our illustrious president is encased,once again, up to his glazed over eyeballs in controversy. He has said he thinks that, in the name of freedom of religion, that Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf should be able to build a one hundred million dollar mosque near ground zero. Actually, I agree. But our president, although a graduate of Columbia University and Harvard Law School still cannot articulate the real reason why he can not stop or start the building of a mosque on the scar of the twin towers.

Here's the reason, he is the president of the United States. Did you catch that? He is not the king of the United States, nor the Premier of the United States, nor the Sovereign of the United States, nor the grand puhbah, nor even yet the Imam of the United States of America. He is just the president. Our wise forefathers, fresh from their frustrating, irritating, war creating clash with King George, did you hear that? King George wrote into our founding documents several items that would deeply limit the powers of said president.

Amendment #1 Congress shall make no law respecting the establishing of a religion or prohibitting the free excercise thereof; Again did you here that word, "congress." Its not even in the powers of the president to do anything about it one way or another. What ever might be done is completely in the hands of an entirely different entity of government.

That means the president of the presumably most powerful nation in the world has NO POWER because he is only the president. That means that the person or persons who own that property may sell it to whomever they wish and if the president of the United States says, "No you may not." They can say, well, (any number of expletives you might choose)yes we can." That is because he is not sovereign over their decision as to what to do with their land.

He's not even able to say "no" to a foreign group, say of rich, powerful Muslim businessmen who wish to invest in a parcel of land near the place that terrorists, in the name of Allah their God, snuffed out hundreds of American lives. And although it looks appears much like a Lion urinating on its kill, he cannot say "no" because he is only the president.

I just wish he would articulate it the way it is meant to be articulated instead of acting like he could do whatever he wants, but he is giving gratiously in to some great ideal. In truth, he cannot because he has no power, no say, no right, because he is simply president of the United States.

Money

Money, I"m tired of it, or I guess I should say the lack of it. Truthfully, I don't mind not having any. I can live pretty simply, my computer, my cell phone, my car, my house. Oh, I guess that's not living very simply.It always feel as though a few dollars more would make the world of difference in my financial picture, however, they never seem to come or if they do, more bills come along with them to neutralize any good a few dollars more might do. Maybe tomorrow I'll find that secret place where I have no worries but until then I'm hoping there is some connection between worrying and making money, although I kind of doubt it.

Apple of my eye

Psalm 17:8a

Keep me as the apple of your eye…

The apple of my eye is that apple which, as I look at it up in the tree, I can tell is the glory of all apples. It is perfect, round and red in the way that says to me it is at the peak of its taste. It is not too green and therefore a touch too sour. It is not over ripe and therefore slightly mealy. It is perfectly crisp and sweet. It is the king apple, the one the tree has poured all of its best sugar and energy into. It is the treasured apple. The one the tree has put up higher than normal so that it cannot be reached easily by the normal passerby. It will take someone with a sharp eye and a deep desire to reach this apple. It is the precious apple. The one the tree has camouflaged carefully so as to avoid the sharp eyes of the birds. Those who just want a casual bite or two and then move on. This apple is to be reserved for a long slow delightful meal of exquisite enjoyment.

David is saying something truly precocious. I am that apple to God. I am that delightful sweetness to the one who is both the tree and enjoyer of the fruit. He is the tree who has put all of his energy and sweetness into me. He is the one who has hidden me away and placed me beyond where the birds can just pick at me out of spite. He is the one who has blinded those who will not truly enjoy me. Who will just pick me and throw me away. He is the tree who has germinated me, grown me, filled me, protected me.

And he has reserved me for himself and picked me at the peak of ripeness because he truly enjoys a perfectly beautiful and ripe apple. He is the one, the only one who can truly, completely, perfectly sit down and enjoy me to the full.

How is that possible that God could do that for me, me the unjust, the unlovely, the unsweet? Here’s how. The true apple of God’s eye was his son Jesus Christ who was all of those things and more to God His Father. God the Father gave him over to the picking of the birds and to the unwashed hands of passersby so that I, in his place might become the apple of God’s eye. And this gift is to all who will take it, to those who will simply receive it by having that same precociousness as David to believe it.

Squirrels and such

I was driving down one of our North Carolina roads the other day which, if you are familiar with them are narrow, curvy, bumpy and shoulderless. If a deer, racoon, or your neighbor's Shar Pei runs into the road its skin will soon be smoothed out under your bumper. So there I was driving down the scenic Carolina road, enjoying the sound of the suspension on the Ford Taurus being torn out by the potholes, when a squirrel left the safety of its home in the trees on one side of the road to venture into the wild free space of the other side of the road. The creature had a good thing going in his adventure when he made a colossal mistake. Half way across the road, he hesitated sensing danger. Maybe it was the crackling suspension telling him that my steering was about to give out, not that it would matter on these narrow roads there would have been nowhere for me to steer. Perhaps it was the smell of the half a quart of oil per mile the Ford burns, but the squirrel stopped midway through his new adventure.

He remained poised in the middle of the road trapped between his sense of safety, which was back where he had come from, home, and his sense of danger to keep going forward in his adventure. Unfortunately for him safety was to launch out into the vast unknown ahead. He chose to make a run for what seemed safe to him, to go back and he got stretched out on the asphalt like my neighbor's Shar Pei. Sometimes safety, contrary to our deepest feelings is straight ahead into the unknown.

Asteroids and Alps

We were having a family discussion the other day about the end of the world and I happen to mention that I had read somewhere on the internet that in 2036 there was a more than reasonable chance an asteroid about the size of three football fields would hit the earth.(http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/dec/30/russia-plan-save-earth-asteroid) It was being taken seriously enough that the Russians were making plans to try to divert its course somehow. Our family talked about how an asteriod of that size hitting the earth could seriously alter a number of things. It doesn't take a genius in physics to figure out that an impact like would have more than just a local effect. We understand intuitively that large things moving at impossible speeds can do serious damage even to objects much larger than they are, like the earth.

Which leads me to my second subject which is how does one create an Alp? How would one create these great thrusts of granite knifing up out of the European continent up to 15,000 feet into the sky. Something as enormous as that we all understand cannot be made by a man and a shovel. Its just not going to happen. It would take billions of years for even several men armed with shovels to create an Alp. Interesting number,"billion", one hundred millions. A number thrown around casually by evolutionists and national economists. Lets say men did try to create an Alp by shovels. It simply could not work. Earth quakes, erosion, water and wind, would prevent it from happening over that same period of a billion years, not to mention the difficulty of creating granite in such large quantities.

So we might come to the conclusion that it would not be in nature's nature to create such a monstrosity since nature likes to tear down not build up. So we propose that it all happened at once. Something went bang, (a very big bang of course) and suddenly the mantle of the earth ripped and up came giant spears of granite. Now again, speaking as a none physicist, but if a meteor three times the size of Jerry's New Cowboys Stadium creates fear in the hearts of Russians scientists, would not the immediate creation of an Alp cause some sort of stir in the earth's fragile trajectory around the sun?

So if it would be "impossible" to build an Alp from scratch one shovel full at a time and if the immediate creation of one would cause astronomical reprocussions, it seems that the creation of an Alp has almost zero probability. Which leads us back to a very simple rational explanation. Perhaps someone who was greater, more powerful, and more intelligent by far than we are, had a plan.