how much would you pay?

I wonder how much you might be willing to pay to see you daughter graduate from High School? I mean let's face, most of you drive down to the local high school and see your kid graduate, right? I only wish!

For us, we have been apart from her for the majority of her 12 years of school. You see her basically for 3 months out of each year. You have parented from afar. Cheered her on via email. Called her on the phone at $3 a minute when she was in 2nd grade. Made yearly costly trips to Germany to see her and encourage her. You have have done all of these, yet you cannot afford any of this. It's more painful than words can express to be apart. But she is worth every cent!

Finally grade 12 comes, as well as senior trip, AP English trip, Junior Senior Banquet, Graduation trip, all part of the wonderful advantages of going to school in Europe, all expensive. I am talking your language here, you are paying or have paid the same for your kids. They are completely worth it. You do not resent a nickel.

You have seen them grow and change and slowly but surely turn into young adults along the way. Now in 8 days, she will be heading off to college. It is hard to comprehend how my little girl became this young woman.

But to see her graduate, how much would pay? How far would you travel? What effort would you put forth? Just to see her graduate, how much? $200? $400? $1000? Just to see her graduate? Try $1400 . . . we did . . . and it was worth every penny. And I will do it again for Jake and again for Helen, and I am sure it will be worth every penny again and again. Plus we drove 4000 kilometers . . . and we will do it again and again. I just feel sorry for those who live even farther away like the Russia and Turkey teams. But how much would you pay?

accents

What is in an accent? I have one, and so does everyone else. It's just that mine is played out a little differently than most peoples. In Russia, folks generally pegged me as a Bulgarian trying to speak Russian. When in Bulgaria speaking Macedonian, they think I am a Russian trying to speak Bulgarian. Are you laughing yet? And when in Macedonia speaking Macedonia, they know I am not from Macedonia, but yet they do not know were I am from . . . and so I play a game.

When they ask me where I am from, I take the question in it's most concrete possible form and tell them that I live in Skopje, in the neighborhood known as Taftalige. "No where are you from" comes the next question. And I continue to play, "well we have lived all over, and ethnically I am German." as I continue to dodge the question they are really asking, which is "where were you born?"

Now if you spoke to me on the phone like Beth Knight-Pinneo did recently, like her, you would immediately know that I was born in the Southern USA, somewhere deep in the South. You can't shake those accents. And I have been honing mine down for years! Back home I am accused of being a "yankee" and in the Northeast I am called a "reb" or worse yet, "bubba". A couple of weeks ago I called the college in Rome GA where Heidi will be attending in the Fall to talk withone someone there, and I started laughing because of how strong her accent was . . . and she thought I was laughing because she did not think she had an accent after 3 years in Southern CA! In general, you can't get rid of your accent completely without professional diction lessons, or a voice coach.

This game of "where are you from" is extremely frustrating, because it is a daily reminder that I am instantly identifiable as a foreigner here because my speech patterns. That is just so very old and irritating. But I hope that I am also as instantly identifiable as a person of Faith, because I have the accent of Christ. Now that rocks.

Fog

It's like being in another dimension. Little makes sense. I am not joking. The grandmothers at the river this morning were taking off their tops and riding their bicycles in their bras, and one was even pulling their granddaughter (I assume) behind the bike on her rollerblades! Grandpas had taken off their pants and were walking along the river in their tidy whitys and boxers. I asked one of the other standard earlier-morning bikers what was going on? She had no idea, but she did say that grandparents walk around in their underwear to get a tan prior to going to the beach. I just think the whole world has gone mad. It was like being in a fog of surrealism. Nothing fit together correctly in my understanding of the world today.

This nothing-fits-together-correctly-fog is the kind of fog that disables leaders when they lack clarity about what they are to be doing and why. Flirtations (see previous post) and fog together make for a powerful synergy that cripples leaders. This fog is the type that prevents accurate assessments of people and situations. Have you had a leader over you so totally misunderstand you that you were left breathless by their assessment of you personally or your work? When this happens to me, I have to evaluate who is in a fog, me or him. As often as not, it's me.

Fog in life is when you cannot correctly assess the world around you. It's like going out for your usual morning exercise ride and suddenly seeing retirees walking and riding in their underwear like they were this morning in Skopje; the world is out of kilter, the axis are not set properly, the data you are receiving does not compute.

This happens to all leaders at one time or another. Unfortunately Fog makes Flirtations even more attractive. These two F's in a persons life will erode their leadership influence and power. I read this morning 1 Timothy 4:16, "Keep a firm grip on both your character and your teaching. Don't be diverted. Just keep at it. Both you and those who hear you will experience salvation." Amen.

flirtations

I am not exactly talking about David and Bathsheba or Samson and Delilah here, but I may be. Flirtations are one of the three keys that consistently lead to leadership failure. Now I love flirtations. And it's the very nature of flirtations to be a distraction. That is actually the point of a flirtation . . . to have a distraction, to have a change of . . . something in the course of the day, to ease the intensity of focus. This is bad. It shows the weakness of my character.

There are at least three types of flirtations that I can see. When Jesus is telling the parable of the Wedding Feast, there were three excuses given why the invited ones couldn't come right at that moment: one had bought a piece of property, one had just purchased five teams of oxen, and one had just gotten married - e.g. property, transportation and relationships. There are probably as many flirtations as there are people in the world, but these three are particularly universal.

In the course of our lifetimes, we spend unbelievable amounts of resources on property, and yes, we do have to have a place to live, this is a fact. But the size, location and costs of our housing choices may well be more of a wall than a flirtation. "But it's a good investment" people tell me all the time. "For who?" is my answer/question. Who benefits from the investment, me or the King?

Transportation is such a kicker for me. My poor wife married a horse trader. Her parents would (and still do) get a cheap car and drive it until the wheels fell off, literally. Me, I wanted a different car each quarter of the year. I just loved the variety! I keep the same woman, but I loved to trade cars. I got it honest from my own father. But you will notice that I have been using the past tense, because it is a black hole for losing money. That was 20 years ago. Today people just want something new and often big. Living overseas for the much of the last 12 years has changed my perspective a bit. Most of the citizens of this world do not own a car or truck. Most people in the world own a bike or a pair of shoes. Transportation can be a real flirtation - a distraction from our focus.

Relationships. Well here I could be talking about David and Bathsheba here, or lots of inbetween stuff as well. The whole point that got slammed home to me was that I can spend quite a bit of time pursuing, investing, chasing and energy on flirtations in my life. I can think of a 1000 reasons why these flirtations are important, healthy even! But this statement just kills this line of reasoning, "Simply put, if you are not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it goodbye, you can't be my disciple." (Luke 14:33) Man that cross thing bites.

the demon came back

Well I was following up the young lady who had been set free from a demon in the office here in Skopje (see earlier post) and it appears that the demon has returned to re-take his territory. I was talking with Pastor Venso who had been part of a great healing campaign here in Macedonia the last few weeks, where many were healed and he told me on our trip back to Kochani that unfortunately that the young girl in question had started to pass out again and speak with the voice of this demon.

It seems that we have seen a literal fulfillment of Luke 11: 24-26. I do not know if this lady has had seven more demons more wicked than the original one come into her, but the original one certainly has. This girl had her spiritual house swept clean and put in order, but she did not take the most important step of installing a new Lord! Consequently, there was no way to defend again the demonic spirit that returned to her.

This lesson I evidently need to learn and relearn all my life, Christ alone must be the goal of my life. Getting rid of stuff and nastiness is a lesser part of freedom. Establishing Christ as the center is the real goal, and anything less is insufficient. Pray for me that I will keep Christ the capstone of my life.

How will Jesus be with us?

One of my students pointed out that the gospel records leave many questions unanswered. Jesus states at the end of Matthew's gospel that He will be with us to the end of the age. But Matthew gives no clue to us how this will be so. In Mark's account, in what way is the Lord "working with them" in Mark 16:20? And so on and so forth in Luke as well. There are questions unanswered.

Matthew does not tell us how or in what manner Jesus would be with us until the end of the age, and this is more than a little troubling. Was he suggesting an allegorical view of what he was writing? Not hardly, for then the ascension passages would have to be allegorical. A spiritual view? Many seem to hold to that, but in the end it leaves much to be desired. A literal view?

What is confusing here is how concrete and uncomplex we are in comparison to a triune God. It seems to me that the conclusion to the promise of Christ on earth prior to His departure for heaven was answered in Acts, when the Holy Spirit came on each one of them as tongues of fire. When Jesus was on the earth, both Father and Holy Spirit were as well, because They are three in one. Now when Holy Spirit is with us, Jesus and the Father are as well for the same reason. The confusion for me and my students come when I apply my limitations to God; the limitations of a single person in a singular form. At the same time, it would have been wonderful if Matthew had been more concrete about the mechanics. Now what is an age?

hellfire, ur . . . hailstones

This part of the world has generally mild weather, except for temps, which are really hot in the summer and plenty cold in the winter. But last night was an exception. We had a 30 minute blast of hailstones falling out of a lightning filled sky, and torrential rain to boot. Our street became the Amazon river. Even our basement had water in it - a first.

But the worse part of it was that Brenda and her parents were caught out in this storm . . . or at least we thought. So we just prayed for their safety until things let up enough that Jake and I could venture out looking for them in the car. Just as we were going out the door, the phone rang and it was Brenda calling to tell us they were safe and asking if we could come pick them up. Whew!

We were amazed and in awe of the storm. The kids and I watched it from all the various angles we could in the house and on the balcony. Unfortunately the flowers did not fair well in the storm, nor did our grape vines. The marble ice rockets pretty much ripped them to shreds. But flowers will grow back . . . we are most relieved that everyone was safe. There was still debris everywhere this morning.

That hailstorm came out of no where . . . and it was loud and scary. It reminded me of judgment. No one really thinks much about judgment. We all seem to feel that we are no worse than anyone else. And in truth, we aren't. Unfortunately "everyone else" is not the standard of measurement being used. I was a bit amazed how difficult it was for my students at Evangelical Theological Seminary to accept that there is an eternal place of pain - hellfire - where people will spend eternity. Somedays I wonder if my students are not the only one's struggling to believe this.

In today's cultures of "tolerance", it gets apparently ever more difficult to believe BOTH that God will permit large numbers of human beings to suffer in eternal torment AND that He is ever gracious and loving. The dissonance created by the tension of believing both of these tenets at the same time gets steadily more difficult to bear. I feel like these beliefs are seeping out of evangelical christianity and instead we have a creeping universalism taking hold that reflects the beliefs of our culture and urban legends more than God's Word. I see this in myself some days and it worries me. I have to shake my head and remind myself of the truth. Oh Lord help my unbelief. But I am convinced that the majority of us are struggling with this concept, for our sense of urgency about world evangelization is a true barometer of how feverently we believe this or not. I don't see and sense much urgency in us these days. People are almost always more interested in cultural differences and unique experiences of the missionary, than the purpose of being one in the first place.

grilling and chillin' and spiritual growth

In the photo below, you can see me doing one of my all-time favorite activities. There are so many fine nuances of this exquisite task that each time becomes an attempt to best the previous one. There are three main elements to consider as one tries to produce ever-tastier delicacies for family consumption.



The three elements are 1. the quality of the meat, 2. the marinade, 3. and temperature control. Mess up any one of these three and you will be disappointed in the results. Depending on how badly you fluff one of these three you might be very disappointed with the results.

It seems to me that the spiritual life I am trying to live has multiple elements to it as well. Yesterday afternoon in the middle of syllabus writing, I get a phone call from the pastor in Kochani. He along with three other people are stranded at a gas station near Skopje as their automobile has suddenly stopped working. The pastor has an urgent meeting to attend in Kochani; he wants to know if I will come pick him up and take the four of them to Kochani.

Now I already had been having a rather unproductive day as far as the syllabus writing was going and I was experiencing more than a bit of frustration with the process. Moreover being a typical man, I am generally unfavorably predisposed toward interruptions of any variety, but especially four hour interruptions such as a "quick" trip to Kochani poses. So the first element of spiritual life has to be framing, attitude, or perspective . . . whatever you want to call it. You gotta frame what happens as positive and make the best of it. This is the choosing of the meat if we want to stay with a grilling motif. In other words, I need to see what happens as a steak, rather than roadkill. (Hopefully today's readers will all be grill aficionados, otherwise someone will think that the person writing this is more than slightly twisted.)

The second element of spiritual life is relationship. Vertical, horizontal, repetitive and consistent. Spiritual growth is not something that happens in a vacuum, it's in the day to day working of relationships. Why would the national pastor call me you ask? It's because we are friends. Not co-workers, not acquaintances - friends. As Venso got into the Peugeot he rubbed his hands together and said, "This is great, we can argue all the way to Kochani!" The three ladies in the backseat promptly went to sleep while Venso and I indeed argued about all kinds of fun stuff for the two hour ride to Kochani. I felt like a polished stone on the quiet ride home alone. This is the marinade of grilling. It is what you soak life or the spiritual life . . . it is what gives life flavor.

The third element is pace. Sustainable pace. Or if we fall back on grilling for the last time, this is how hot the fire has become. Too hot - the meat is burnt on the outside and raw on the inside, plus the fire goes out quickly. (BTW, this is GRILLLING, which means using REAL wood charcoal, not gas, and not those factory chemical cubes you get in America that they call charcoal). Not hot enough the meat never cooks and frankly the meat is not safe to eat if the heat is not hot enough. Unfortunately, this one is the most difficult for me. The hotter the better is generally my motto. I grew up in the era that proclaimed, "I want to burn-out for God!" Reality is that no one benefits from such a mentality. Now if only someone would help me get the heat - the pace - just right.

Are we the trustees?

According to Dr Walter Hansen at Fuller Theological Seminary, we are indeed. If we accept his premise (actually it's a simple observation) it would radically change the way we do ministry. No more would we use a two-step system where we spend the vast majority (some statistics quoted out there say 98% - Christianity Today) on ourselves, and expect the rest of the Kingdom of God live at some sub-standard level of living.

Once again according to Christianity Today, "Americans are in the top 1 percent of all wage earners in history, " yet, " . . . there is little difference between the amounts that Christians and non-Christians earn, spend, save, charge, or donate to charities." (http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/005/23.40.html)

“The Western Church is the trustee of the financial wealth of the global church." according to Dr. Walter Hansen of Fuller. If we are the trustee, and we are, why do we overwhelmingly spend our resources on ourselves? Why do we expect our brothers and sisters around the world to go without, be hungry, not have access to medicine, not have almost all of the things we take for granted? The real question is why do we spend 98% of all the money that comes into the church on us?

Before you get all riled up and think that I am bashing the North American church, let me say LOUDLY, that missionaries are far worse. We have swallowed a Victorian era missional strategy that demands our poor brothers and sisters in Christ remain that way . . . and of course we say that we are doing this for their own good. Which is genuine hogwash as they say in the old country . . . we are doing this for ourselves. More for us, less for them. I wonder if that passage in the New Testament about the Rich Fool (Luke 12:13-21) describes us the Trustees, far more than the parable of the shrewd manager in Luke 16?

Perhaps the Father has a great redistribution-of-wealth plan coming. Perhaps this is the only way that He can make me see myself as I really am. The strangest thing is that while all of us feel that there is not enough to make ends meet, in truth we are embarrassingly wealthy. Or as Dr. Bailey at Alliance Theological School states, "While none of us feels like we have enough a realistic comparison with the people of this earth forces us to face our amazing wealth."

When I think about this a bit, I come to the realization that I am a selfish person and fairly uncaring as well. Mostly I am consumed with me. Of course I can state that I have a daughter in college, there is little retirement money, that cost of living is outstripping income, or a thousand other reasons. Truthfully, I am a bad trustee. I think God has made a poor decision here. The question is, what am I to do about it?

mentally defective

This was the third taxi driver's assessment of the second taxi driver. Jake and I had been trying to resolve some travel dilemmas, (see previous post) and after very limited progress at Lufthansa's center office, we were catching a taxi to the church. We got into this taxi with one of those nasty Neanderthal types, he even had the physical features! And immediately he began to talk about each woman we passed as if she were potentially his personal pleasure opportunity. He intentionally pulled into the crosswalks, so that the women had to pass around his car and his filthy dialogue made me want to smash his face into his Russian steering wheel (in the name of Jesus of course) . . . I did not appreciate his comments one bit, but in front of my 16 year son made it feel 10x's worse!

I told him that my woman was plenty for me and that only a fool needed more than one woman. His disgust at my simplistic views almost shut him up. When we got out of the car, I told Jake, "People like that make me feel so slimy, I feel like I need a bath!" And I pointed out to him that if his sisters or mother got into that man's taxi how uncomfortable it would be for them!

My anger and disgust was still running high when we finished our tasks at the church and were hopping another taxi home. I basically told the taxi driver what the previous driver had been like. His assessment cheered me much, "Those kinds of people are mentally defective" he told us. I could not agree more. At the same time, but for Christ in me, there goes my life.

Worse yet, how do I share the Gospel with a mentally defective chump like that? I mean I have always been able to bridge large social gaps . . . I can switch gears from golfing with my physician to digging a well by hand in the village with illiterates in a heartbeat. I have a large box for people to play in . . . I can generally love them and hate the sin that destroys them. But when someone embraces the nastiest and dirtiest recesses of human depravities . . . I don't see anyway to reach out in love, when I want to pound them instead. I am not a very good missionary some days.

What if?

Well I have been tracking their flights for the last month, ever since I noticed in the newspaper that Cirrus Airlines was not functioning well. Of course the chances of missing my connection in Frankfurt seems to be in the highly-likely to certain range, as I have a scheduled flight with them soon and one would think that knowing ahead of time would help one avoid the trauma of missing a connection, but not necessarily.

I already have hotels, cars and such scheduled on the USA side. But since I can't be certain 100% that I will miss my flight to the states, I can't cancel all the stuff on that end. I thought about booking a hotel room in Frankfurt but that too seems premature for the same reasons. What if Lufthansa puts me on a different flight to Dulles even though me coming in late on Cirrus is not their fault? What if a miracle happens and I actually get to Frankfort in time to make my connection?

As you can see from these "what if" scenarios, the virtually endless combined possibilities make prediction all but impossible; travel can be a nightmare. Even someone with many many years of living out of suitcases and endless traveling cannot resolve this dilemma . . . there are too many undetermined factors that will come into play that very day and force decisions. The "what-if" game makes one old before their time.

The "what-if" game gets played out in life much the same as it does in traveling in the hairy arm-pit of Eastern Europe. Much of life is simply a series of what-ifs. No one reaches my age in life without wondering what their life would be like today, if they had made a different set of choices along the way. Yet, no one can survive long if they continue to engage in this process of a what-if fashion. Life cannot be lived in this manner.

That is why the only way to live is by principles, and of course the best place to get those is in God's Word. Now I wonder where I might find a biblical principle with which to deal with Lufthansa and Cirrus? Perhaps Matthew 24:20?

the good ole' days?

Life expectancy in 1906 was 47 years of age in the USA. The maximum speedlimit in most cities was 10 mph. More than 95% of all births took place at home, not in a hospital. At least 90% of all doctors in the US had no college degree. Again this is all in 1906, 100 years ago in the USA. Most women washed their hair once a month, and they generally used borax or egg yokes for shampoo. Only 6% of all Americans had graduated from High School. Marijuana, heroin and morphine were all available over the counter at local corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, "heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health." And last but not least is the statistic that there were only 230 reported murders in the entire USA. (Contrast that with 16,900 murders in the USA in 2005).

Billy Joel sang that the "good ole' days weren't always good and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems." That seems to sum it up pretty well. I wonder what it will be like in 2106? My grand children will find out I guess given the progressive curve of life expectancy, though I certainly will not be here. As I have mulled over these statistics this morning the conclusion that I reached is that much change has happened both good and bad in the last 100 years, but today is mine to make and shape and influence. The past is done and tomorrow may not come. Today is all I have. You too.

the water is cold

The bathtub is HUGE! There is even a seat built-in for your sitting pleasure. And two of my co-workers here in the former Yugoslavia have these mega tubs! I always enjoy the feeeling of luxury that comes when washing with this much real estate availible :-) But I noticed that Heidi wasn't enjoying the nice bath at all. When I asked her why not, she told me that the water was cold! I said, "What are you talking about?" "There is tons of hot water!"

Then I remembered that the valve for choosing the water temprature was backwards. When it said you should have been getting hot, you were actually getting cold. So Heidi assumed that there was not hot water availible . . . that I, her tender loving dad had used it all up and left her none at all! I was injured!

But more seriously, my assumptions about people frame my attitude all the time. I percieve that they have intended me harm with their actions, when many times I later discover that not only was no harm intended, but that I had completely misunderstood what had happened around me. I am not very smart sometimes . . . but from now on I am planning to check both sides/perspectives of an event before I assume there is no hot water.

unlimited indulgences

My honor grad and I just got back from Kosovo. Heidi and I had the great job of the last three days of hanging with our Albanian language team and talking about the world we live in today and what the missional response to that world should be. These last three posts have been about themes that missional futurists see as key elements of society that all ministers/christians have to come to grips with, but these things are especially challenging for missions.

Of course when I speak about unlimited indulgences, I am not talking about the middle ages and Catholic indulgences, but rather unrestrained pampering and wish-fulfillment. It seems that most modern cultures face this challenge. Sacrifice, denial, commitment to others appear to have lost their salty significance according to the world's point of view. The world's infinitely changing contexts seem to have displaced self-discipline, hard work and surrender to a greater cause.

In a world that is all of the above, yet hungry for integrity, God is (as He always has been) calling us out to be the people of God and a royal priesthood. Now before you think I have gone self-righteous and devotional on you - I am neither - this conversation is more about erroneous Western assumptions, than classic theology. It is more about the fact that human enthusiasm for unexamined change has no moral compass.

The challenge is that I too wish for ME to be the center of everything. It is the idea of unlimited indulgence. Not only is this bad for my marriage, my parenting and my job; but at the beginning and at the end, God simply will not tolerate such behavior on my part. Col. 3:6 states that it is because of such behavior that, "God is about to explode in anger." (The Message). He is not going to put up with His children (even perhaps not anyone!) living a life that is all about me . . . or you.

My hope is this . . . that I will continue to pursue God in the face of overwhelming unlimited indulgence temptations. But many days I don't. I need to take a few days and think more about this.

economic gluttony

A appears that a hungry sense for personal significance drives Mall Shopping and QVC and the general economic gluttony of the world. I seem to live in a world obsessed with MORE. More of everything is the desire of the human heart . . . here in Macedonia . . . and elsewhere as well. It is impossible to have a conversation without the direction of the talk moving to money within the first 5 minutes of the conversation . . . well OK, 6 minutes. This phenomena generally bothers us westerners greatly because of our chronic guilt for having more possibilities than the average person.

This experience is repeated so consistently it becomes the expected norm. Another reason Brenda and I notice this so much in Macedonia (actually the entire former Yugoslavia) is that it is different than our experience in Russia . . . which incidentally is far poorer than the former Yugoslavia. The Russians would say regularly, "Under Communism, we had pockets full of money but the stores were empty . . . so you could buy nothing; under capitalism the stores are now full, but our pockets are empty, so the net result is that we can buy nothing. Essentially nothing has changed." But in the former Yugoslavia there is much more the sense of entitlement in these conversations about money. This comes from a falling standard of living in our opinion. Don't get me wrong, people are really struggling for DAILY bread. These are not the imaginary ramblings of the formerly rich who must now slide into middle-class living. No. These are the obsessions and worries of people who most often have no security today nor tomorrow.

But I am becoming more convinced that daily bread is only the visible concern. The real desires of the heart, as seen in conversations with our national friends, is for unrestrained economic gluttony. They were infected with this by our Western culture, although the seeds and roots were already present. Economic gluttony looks like this:

"The richest 1 percent in the world enjoy the same amount of resources consumed by the entire bottom 50 percent. Few in the world of affluence ever experience chronic starvation; many in the world of poverty know little else. Only a small minority of parents in the US ever experience the trauma of having a child die before the age of 5; nearly 10 percent of parents in the poorest countries do. In the world of affluence, parents worry increasingly about childhood obesity; in the world of poverty, nearly 163 million children are malnourished. An American child born in 2004 has a life expectancy well into her 70s, will learn to read and write, and is likely to complete an advanced degree. A child born in Angola has a life expectancy of 46 and little chance of finishing high school; less than half of all Angolans gain enough education to read a newspaper." - http://www.csmonitor.com/2004/1118/p09s01-coop.html

It is breathtaking to realize that the richest 1% consume the same resources as the ENTIRE bottom 50%! It is terrifying to see that most of us want to be in that 1 percent! I wonder how Christ views this rampant consumerism? The relentless pursuit of stuff . . . and more stuff? We rent storage to keep our stuff. We have garages. Those garages are so full of stuff that our cars are parked outside the garages. Why doesn't my relationship with Christ provide a sense of contentment that makes all the stuff irrelevant? Why do I resist the idea of living with less, older and smaller in order to have more to share? I do . . .and I mean I really do . . . want something on my gravestone other than . . . "Here lies a consumer." When is enough enough?

Cyberspace escapism

I have noticed in my three teenagers . . . and in myself if I am honest, that a lack of connection to the World Wide Web creates a tension, a slight sense of being discombobulated and out of focus. It is as if our connection to the world is severed. The world of the internet has changed everyday life in the same quantum manner as did the automobile 100 years ago. It has fundamentally changed the way life operates, regardless how much one does or does not use the internet. Society is changing because of the internet, and those changes affect everyone.

Cyberspace is mesmerizing for a world that is seeking to discover their own definitions of truth and for a world that is hungry for new realities that will save them from their real lives. This is one of those unrelenting and unstoppable changes in our world that every minister in the world has to come to grips with, both personally and professionally. I think most of us have the self-discipline to not live on the internet everyday and not define ourselves by what we read or see online. But, . . . I think the majority of the world is looking for personal significance and that they use the online world for that purpose . . . or at the very least, they have hope that somewhere out there in cyberspace they will find genuine relationships and desires fulfilled.

On the WWW one can re-invent themselves everyday. They can be whoever they want and they never have to be who they actually are to anyone. What does this mean for ministers? For missionaries? How do we stay connected to real reality and not fall into cyberspace escapism? Most important, how do we both live and express our connection to the Redeemer and at the same time gently and lovingly attract those caught in an endless World Wide Web?

The whole world has gone mad

It is like a disease, a bio-agent that is spread in the air. Everyone seems to have caught it and been infected by it. Yes there was a full moon last night and yes everyone was partying on our whole block, but those seem to be more symptoms than the causes. It is causing work stoppages all over town, and even the police disappear when they get the virus. Every cafe in town seems to be obsessed with it and it is the core of every conversation I have had in several countries over the last few days. Outside of North America, the entire rest of the world comes to a halt during the World Cup.

America got spanked by the Czech Republic yesterday, but that was due more to the excellent play of the Czech National team, rather than poor play by the Americans. In fact I was encouraged by the sportsmanship of the American players and we had a few chances. The Czechs deserved their win and I don't want to diminish their excellent play in any way. But watching society in the rest of the world (outside of North America) respond to the World Cup every four years is fascinating.

There is nothing, not even the Superbowl that can change the day to day functioning of a country, the way the World Cup affects the rest of the world. It disrupts the normal patterns of life. For this month of time each four years, there are three games a day on each and every TV in the great majority of the world. That is 4.5 hours of soccer every day . . . but it is actually much more all-consuming than just those four and a half hours each day.

I was talking with my landlord and an electrician this morning and both of those conversations started with the struggles of the American team, and how well the Italians and Czechs played yesterday. Enough already for most of you I am sure. But I actually do have a point here.

What kinds of lives would we need to live, what kind of people would we need to be, what kind of Faith would be necessary to capture the attention of the world, in the same way that a round ball does every four years? What does Faith look like, that is so real and genuine and captivating that people would change their very lives in order to observe it; in order to talk about it with everyone they meet? The World Cup is not important, but Faith is . . . a soccer ball is not important, but the Savior is . . . these World Cup conversations are not important, but the people having them are . . . so how do I enter into these great conversations with these important people that the Savior died for? Well I am watching alot of soccer these days to say the least, and I am looking to be a person who lives as passionately for the King and Kingdom, as Europeans are about soccer.

I have that song . . . but it's in another language?

Well . . . 24 hours of driving later, we finally arrived in Skopje from Germany. Eight countries, detours on top of detours in Austria, an expensive overnight in Trieste, Italy near the Slovenian border, but good solid get-reacquainted-time with my three teenagers, one which is now a graduate. Yesterday while we were somewhere in Croatia, Helen was riding in the front seat with me and she was flipping though the iPod looking for songs to listen to, and she said, "Oh I have that song on a CD, but it's in a different language!"

I thought to myself, what a life these kids live . . . I would have NEVER been able to say when I was 13 years old, "Oh I have that song, but it's in a different language!" Simply NEVER would that have been possible. Now on a trip like this one, with five different languages and six different currencies is just a normal everyday part of life, both for me and for the kids. Living in Germany, 2000 kilometers from mom and dad is "normal" and living in a dorm with 30 other MK's is "normal" and traveling half way across the European continent to get "home" is "normal" and truthfully saying, "I have that song on a CD, but it's in another language" is "normal".

I gonna be honest with you . . . this is what our life is like . . . but I am not sure it ever feels "normal". What is normal? Is normal the way we always have done it? Or is normal the way the majority of the people in the world do it? Is normal the way it ought to be done? If any of those qualify for "normal" then I still don't think we are there yet. Is it possible to be at home in a sense everywhere in the world, and at the same time not feel at home anywhere? Is this what Paul was talking about in the NT when he was struggling with living or dying and which one might be more advantageous? Did Paul finally make up his mind? I am not sure, but I do know that this is not my "home" and "normal" is anyone's guess.

detours and $86 tanks of diesel and missed turns

Well we missed the turn off for Innsbruck. The signage here in Europe always reeks . . . I miss more turns and passes in Germany, Italy and Switzerland than I do in Eastern Europe, but as you can see from the pictures, it was worth it. This was one of the most spectacular scenic trips we have ever taken. Even though it took all day to go half the distance we went yesterday, it was worth it.


We were literally on top of the world with the trip over the pass and through the San Bernadino tunnel in eastern Switzerland. The views were breath-stealing and the car was filled with “look here” and “look there!” And the bridges a roads were literally just hanging onto the Alps . . . it was amazing.

BTW, I paid $86.09 for my last tank of diesel today . . . which comes to about $5.73 for a gallon of diesel which is still way cheaper than a gallon of gasoline!

Tomorrow we grab Brenda’s parents from the airport and go to BFA and see the kids!!!! Hooray! Now where is my map?

5 countries, 15 hours

As I said in my last post, I am not a very good traveler. I seem to have terminal destination disease. Being there always seems to be my goal, getting there feels like a nusiance. This morning I woke up to Italian sunshine, bright blue skies, and an aching body. The sitting in a car hour after eternal hour is less and less fun as I get older. This morning, I really feel the results of sitting and traveling for 15 hours yesterday. That is the negative stuff.

On a more positive note, I had a significant amount of time to think. I have been attempting to do more of that lately . . . to be a bit more thoughtful oriented and less action oriented. I also had time to finish listening to a ghoulish audiobook that I had been listening to while biking recently. But most importantly, Brenda and I had a long talk. Not just one long one . . . but a long one interspered throughout the day. It was very rich and thought provoking.

When we finally got off the Italian interstate and grabbed a hotel room, we got the great news that Brenda's parents received their passports, and that is very good news, since they are flying out tonight (Wednesday evening) and we are picking them up at the airport in Zurich tomorrow morning. That of course is assuming that we actually get to Zurich, as we are still undecided about which way to go in order to get around the Gotthard tunnel closing (see previous post).

It is a bit wild to cross five different countries in one day. The variety of landscape, police, roads, cars, police, weather, fuel prices, police, and border experiences are infinitely entertaining. Hopefully today we will keep it down to two to three countries. Are we there yet?

The tunnel is closed!

The 17 kilometer (11 miles) Gotthard tunnel in Switzerland is closed. Some may say that only a fool would travel that far underground anyhoo . . . so what is the big deal? Well the big deal is that this incredible engineering feat allows us to take a huge shortcut through the Swiss Alps and get to the kid's boarding school with far less stress and time. Now it looks like we will re-route through Innsbruck Austria, adding yet an eight country to this trip! This photo was taken right before you get to the tunnel entrance.


We are leaving early in the morning heading to Black Forest Academy to retrieve our three teens . . . and to see our oldest graduate! It will be a long long trip . . . 2000 kilometers there and 2000 back. I will see/write you in a week . . . most of which will be passed by sitting in a car. Not my idea of fun, but even in the days of modern travel, there are still cost restrictions and difficulties in getting from point A to point B, along with luggage and bikes and children all in one piece.

It seems that life is much more about the trip than the destination. I know that sounds trite . . . especially to my cynical ears, but I can truthfully say that most missionaries in the modern era plan in "trip" cycles. I honestly go for YEARS at a time without emptying my toiletry bag, because it is pointless, another "trip" is right around the corner -- always.

There are many who believe this to be too much and an ineffective life. On the other hand we have planted several churches WHILE doing all this traveling. Many never plant a church although they rarely seem to leave whatever place they are living in. Now do not think me arrogant, because I am not, at least not about this subject. I am making an honest observation. And I am also not being arrogant because I believe the "trip" is the whole point. While I would love to stay right on this subject because I am like totally weary of the constant swirl of statements and insinuation that effectiveness is related to one's total years/months/days/hours/minutes in a single location, which is like saying that one's gender is dependent on what kind of clothes they wear -- effectiveness is not time-in-location-specific, it's doing-the-right-things-specific; the point of this post is the "trip."

So if the trip is the entire point of life, why do we focus so much on the destination? I mean I clearly have destination disease! I generally hate the trip. I wanna BE there! Get there! Yesterday was too late! I can see that I have infected a couple of my children with this as well. So I end this post with no great revelations of wisdom (because I have none) nor do I end this post with some profound insight into the mind of God. No, I want to end this post by confessing that I am trying to focus more everyday on the "trip", the journey, and less on the destination. On those days that I am successful I find life more stress-free, my clarity more evident and that there are gems to be discovered along the way . . . now . . . if they just had not closed that tunnel!

Here . . . you have to throw your own party

This week we had a house full of people. They all came because Brenda and I spent the whole day preparing this elaborate meal for them all. It was an amazing amount of work. We made trip after trip to the store (on foot). We carried bag after bag of food back from the market. I spent an hour at the butcher getting my pork chops cut just so, and tenderized. I had been collecting the ingredients for my marinade for days. I laid out all the chops and salted them and placed them in the marinade. Here is the photo!

Brenda made homemade rolls (thank you God for Breadmakers!). We had so much food it was even spread out over the living room. Here is that photo!


She made desert. We chopped strawberries and vegetables. We had to keep washing cutting boards. I bought every drink known to man (other than rajkija - see previous post). I made a different marinade for the chicken. I washed dishes, Brenda washed dishes, I cleaned the grill, cleaned out the old ashes, got it all ready to cook 36 pieces of meat on a small grill. We baked potatoes, and then we baked them again (twice baked), we baked cakes, we baked rolls. We fired up the grill and we grilled and grilled and grilled.

And the people came (late of course) and the house filled up and people filled their plates and ate and ate and ate. We hung out and talked for hours and hours. We then let them all leave and we started the massive clean up. In fact we ran out of steam completely and finished the clean up this morning with a couple of more hours of work.

This is how you celebrate any important event here in this part of the world. People don't do this for you. They don't throw YOU a party, you throw THEM a party. These were our friends. And this was long expected on their part. They came to celebrate my graduation from Gordon-Conwell. It sure is hard work to have so many friends :-).

Snow . . . in June?

It is simply an amazing sight . . . and the little photo just does not do it justice. I reckon those of you living in Colorado find it ho-hum, but for those of us who grew up in less majestic climates, seeing snow on the mountain tops in June just does something to you. I guess it is all about contrasts. It's burning up here in the city, summer like weather already forcing us to close the doors and try to keep in the cool air, but then the peaks are all shining white with snow. When the air is clear, a good air day, I live in a really beautiful spot in the world.


The former Yugoslavia is in every other way though, a hairy-armpit. The contrasts of everyday life are not nearly as pretty as the snow-covered peaks in Tetevo. The contrasts that aren't so good are the used syringes and used condoms that litter the ground on Mt. Vodno - the drug trade and sex trade are in high gear here. The contrasts of BMW's and people lifting food out of the garbage bins - the poor just keep getting poorer. The contrasts of beliefs; the handful of Evangelical Christians versus the masses who are ethnically christian or muslim, but in everyday practice pursue black magic, and are often demon possessed (see previous post). The contrasts of possibilities, those from the West/EU can go anywhere and do anything - Macedonians can't get out of their own country. The contrast of hope, people outside of the former Yugoslavia can have hope in a better tomorrow - here, people's lives just get more and more difficult. There are probably a hundred more contrast, but since I am one of the rare people here who has a job, I gotta get to work, but the snow is still beautiful.

The vilest drink known to mankind . . .

There are many ways to begin social discourse around the world; sweet tea in the South would be an excellent positive example. But here it begins with the vilest drink known to humans. By here I mean the former Yugoslavia. I have seen them make the stuff in Macedonia and in Bosnia, in copper stills that spit out the horror one drip at a time.

How bad is it? Well, when I was a kid cutting lawns to make a buck, I would often be forced to get a section of garden hose, feed that hose down into the gas tank of my mother's old buick, and then suck leaded gasoline out of her tank. The trick was to get the gas moving through the hose at a fast clip and right before you sucked a big mouthful of gasoline into your mouth, and I mean right before, you ripped the hose away from your mouth, and stuffed it into the gas can at your feet. If you were successful, gas poured from the hose into the gas can. If you weren't successful, either you quit sucking too soon and the gas all ran back down into the tank, or you sucked a moment too long and got a mouthful of Chevron's best (or a lungful if you were especially inexperienced). I remember those days fondly, the time of life was wonderful, the taste of leaded gasoline was awful.

I have now revised my opinion about gasoline being the vilest liquid know to man . . . rajkija has taken over the number one spot. While I have not syphioned gasoline out of a car in decades, unfortunately rajkija is a normal part of my everyday routine. It is the way "real men" start their social discourse here.

My visit yesterday with my 83 year old neighbor is a classic example. Uncle Lubay as I respectfully call him, walks by our house constantly. He can't see me as he is about 3/4's blind, but he knows my voice perfectly and can instantly recognize me when I speak. I usually am outside working my my roses or portucalas when he comes by shuffling along, trying to work the kinks out of his hurting joints and such. He keeps careful track of when I have been gone on one of my frequent trips somewhere in the former Yugoslavia, and when I greet him as he passes by, his face lights up and he always invites me to come to his house for a coffee.

Now I have been dodging this coffee at his house event for as long as I can for a long list of reasons, but he finally cornered me a few days ago and I pinned me down in such a way that I had no wiggle room -- you don't live 83 years and not learn how to get your way. So I grabbed my tire pump and headed over to his house which is behind ours and repaired the tires on his wheelbarrel that were flat. I suspect he intentionally let the air of those tires.

"Oh David, now we can have our coffee!" he exclaimed. Now that I was at his home, there was no escape. So Uncle calls to his daughter who lives with him and said, fix us a coffee girl! Of course before we can drink the sludge they call coffee here, we have to drink a shot glass of his gasoline, ur . . ., I mean rajkija.

I hemmed and hawed, I made excuse after excuse . . . but there was no use. I was never going to get back home until I drank coffee; I was never going to get coffee until we drank a shot glass of this vile stuff. So we drank and cemented our friendship . . . I have to admit, it's nice having friends who call me a young whippersnapper.

They only wanted a small miracle - an immediate exorcism

Yesterday, into the main office of our national church partner came a most interesting ensemble of unlikely and unusual visitors. Three very small, very short, almost pygmy-like Albanian Muslims came into the office. No they did not want humanitarian aid, and no they did not want money. What they wanted was a miracle.

These two men and one girl, were in their mid-20's and they told a long and incredible story. It turns out that the young lady had a demon which caused her to fall, in fact threw the young girl down violently and frequently any time they were more than 200 meters from their home. It seems that the demon regularly talked to the young men and told them that they must not take the girl more than 200 meters from the house.

Of course the men had gone far and wide in their search for help for the girl. They had visited the magicians, the fortune-tellers, the shamans in the Romy villages, they had gone to see the Muslim imams, the orthodox priests, and every other holy man they could find. They had traveled as far as Zagreb (10 hours away by car) searching for release of the demonization of this girl. No success at all. So in complete desperation they were now sitting in the office of the Evangelical church telling this long and depressing tale to our co-workers.

All throughout the telling of their story the girl was sitting there, but she wasn't there . . . her eyes were rolled back into her head and she didn't move at all. Not at all. Finally our co-worker said to the girl, "In the name of Jesus . . . " and that was as far as he got. The girl was instantly and violently put into a coma-like sleep. As the co-worker described it, it was as close to falling down as was possible while sitting in a chair held up by two men. But the reaction to the Name of Jesus was instantaneous.

Our co-worker continued unfazed, talking to the demon within the young lady. "In the Name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the Living God you no long have any stronghold on this woman. You must release her and set her free. In the name of Jesus Christ, the only Son of God you will leave now!" At these words the woman bolted upright in her chair, and it was as if her whole body was clenched in a body-wide cramp . . . it was agony for her . . . and then our co-worker demanded, "Be gone in the Name of Jesus Christ!" and she was transformed and relaxed in her seat.

She focused her eyes on her two friends and her surroundings and her two new friends (our co-workers) and smiled and talked in her normal voice for the first time in a very long time. Christ continues to rule over the forces of darkness with the exact same authority as He always has. Amen.