In the Greek Kitchen

When the Greek waiter asked Jake and I to follow him into the kitchen, I thought he was joking. But he was more than serious . . . he took us back to the fresh catch cooler and let us pick out our own sea-bass for dinner. But the ruckus and looks our walk through the kitchen caused, deserves to be blogged about.

We were in the employee only sections of the fish house. And all these Greek gals were slaving away in the kitchen and you could feel their animosity that Jake and I were invading their domain! But the fish were what Jake and I were focused on, nothing more, nothing less. But it was interesting to see the inside the kitchen area.

Anyhoo, Jake and I selected the fish that we wanted grilled for dinner that night and made our way back to our table. There we enjoyed our family, a spectacular sunset, and eventually, Mr Sea-bass himself. I think I will tell the rest of the story in pictures.

Racing the butterflies

The smoke from the wildfires outside the city is choking the air with smoke and ash. It is like a terminal haze laying over the air, gray, polluted, even direct sharp sunlight is having trouble getting through it, and we haven’t had a cloud in the sky in weeks.

So this morning as I was riding my bike up the mountain to the South of the city, and finally getting above the worst of the bad air, I found myself racing the butterflies. There were all kinds . . . Purple Shot Copper’s, Small Coppers, Large Whites, Bath Whites, Wall butterflies, and Small Tortoiseshells.

Butterflies can only fly if their body temperature is above 86 degrees, and consequently the butterflies are usually sitting on branches and such, sunning themselves, but today all were in flight. And an amazing number of them seem to be racing along with me as I poured sweat while pedaling uphill. It was a magical moment in the good air.

When I sit and think of all the elements that had to come together to have this five minute moment this morning, it is more than a little mind-boggling. Life is complicated! And it is too often just a series of nows, the this moment’s of life that can not be duplicated nor repeated. I wonder if that is a gift or a curse for the Western Mind which is centered around planning and individualism?

Stuck in the ruts

When I was a kid, there were loads of dirt-roads around . . . no asphalt or cement to be found at all. And these roads often had huge ruts! When I was a little whiper-snapper I thought they might swallow my dad’s truck whole and that we would never get out. Some of them seemed to have teeth and lips, just waiting to suck us in.

I am discovering that those ruts of my childhood were the easiest ones in life. The pot-holes and ruts of adult life are feelings of being trapped, or stagnant in the sense of not moving nor making any progress, and feeling irrelevant and life having no meaning . . . this is what I mean by being stuck in a rut. Bob Walker asks the question, “If you could do anything you wanted, if God told you that you were free to choose, if you had all the time, energy, money, staff and education you needed, and you knew that you could not fail, what would you do?” (This question came to me via B. Biehl)

What a question huh? And as I understand it, most people love this question and find themselves set free as they try to answer it and then start baby steps toward reaching it. This is the question that often leads people toward their dreams. It helps them in many ways, but especially in discovering the next step. But what if your answer is “nothing”?

Either my rut is way deeper than Dr. Walker ever anticipated or ever seen, or I am a hopeless case because I have no answer to this question. Does that mean I don’t want to do something? No it means that I don’t know what that something is. This is more than a rut; it’s a crater.

Some folks tell me it’s mid-life whatever, and I tell them that I have already passed mid-life number one and two, I have never heard of mid-life crisis lasting for years on end. It’s a hole so deep that there is no light coming through either end. It smells of despair.

Pink and Jesus

I guess you could say its been a week of lessons, first the woodpile, now the rock concert. In one sense, as usual, I am actually doing research. I am researching people and what they value and trying to discern the whys. As rock concerts go, this one was actually pretty good, i.e. excellent musicians, minimal effects and the volume just right (would stop your pace-maker, but doesn’t really hurt your ears too bad).

Alecia Moore, better known by her stage name of Pink (or P!nk depending on your source) is a sassy, spoofy, goofy, snarling, hysterical artist that doesn’t take herself too seriously. She says of herself, “I decided at 15 that I didn't want to be one of those artists that gets up and sings love songs they don't mean. I decided that I was going to be me to the fullest extent, that my songs were going to reflect relationships I've had, things I've been through, and even the stuff I'm embarrassed about.” In that sense music is to Pink, as blogging is to David.

The amazing (and disconcerting) thing about going to a rock concert, is that you see the depth of influence that a pop star has on people and culture. You get to see first hand what people want in entertainment. You can see what really moves people in their hearts and souls.

Now I was arguably the oldest paying customer at the concert last night . . . several people thought I was with the band . . . and I only know one song that Pink sings (which I think we should start singing in church!), so I am in no way a typical fan of Pink, nor was I even a typical rock concert attender last night, and several young folks from our church just about swallowed their tongues when they saw me there. But while surrounded by several thousand teenie-boppers, I realized quickly that they knew every single song by heart and they were singing along with her . . . on every single song. The crowd loved her energy and her wild sense of style . . . in a word Pink is authentic and real (or at the very least gives a super strong impression of being that) by the culture’s definition of authentic.

And here is the rub for the church and those of us who are members of the Kingdom . . . that authenticity which was apparent in droves at a rock concert, is sorely lacking in the church. We don’t inspire trust, followership, commitment, nor deep emotion because at some level we appear to, or actually do, lack authenticity.

I see this sharply both in me and in the people in the church I pastor. I have one group (my group) who view and live faith as an intellectual exercise -- it’s about what you know (thus the person who knows the most or best “wins”) and I have a second group who view and live faith as name and claim whatevers - it’s about what you decide God wants to bless you with (thus the most positive pollyanna on spiritual steroids wins) and these two groups dominate the church.

All the real people are in the middle and they can’t compete with the seemingly intimidating knowledge of intellectual group, nor can they identify with NIACI (name it and claim it) group in their everyday lives. To these people caught in the middle, neither expression of the Kingdom seems authentic or real. No one seems to be just comfortable in their own skin within a Christian context. We are essentially asking God to undo what we have made ourselves to be . . . and where is the authenticity in that? Perhaps I will get fired, but I think Pink was having a flash of real Jesus in her life, when she said that “I am going to be me to the fullest extent.” Jesus wants us to be us . . . that unique expression of His creative genius is lost every time we force someone into our particular mold (pun intended) of Christianity.

“I coming up, you better get this party started!“

Lessons from the woodpile

One of my most recent activities is chopping wood for the dirty old man next door. Let’s face it, I need to exercise and he is 86 years old . . . and completely utterly and totally lost. Did I mention he is 86? Not too much time left, but then again, who knows how much any of us have?

So for the past week or so, when I get back from my daily workout, I am already sweaty and stinky, so what better time to split some wood for Uncle Lybe? I have been learning some lessons in the woodpile.

1. He owns an axe that is older than me! And he is darn proud of it. I have listened to lots and lots of “when I was your age” stories these past 10 days. It has given me some perspective and understanding to what makes this guy tick. And he is having a ball telling all his old cronies that he has an American splitting wood for him (for free of course).
2. Lybe is afraid of dying and he doesn’t know what to do about it, yet he refuses to talk about it. I continue to gain credibility as I chop wood, but I also am spending more of that credibility as I am starting to push because I am not remotely certain that this man will live long enough to burn the wood I am chopping for him. Eternity is urgently calling him.
3. I have also learned that I would rather do something for him, than be with him. Shows you how American I still am even after all these years in the Hairy Armpits. Mind you that Lybe only wants to drink beer or moonshine and talk about young women and their many virtues . . . and while I can do that appropriately and chastely, I can’t at 8:00 in the morning. My weak American frame cannot handle dirty jokes nor alcohol at such an early hour. Am I making excuses?
4. I am learning too, that a world view without God can only chase after the most insignificant things in life . . . and that even armed with that certainty and knowledge that I still can be tempted to do the same. Crap.
5. Today as I sat with him an had a glass of water after our chop session, he wanted to know if there were other people in the world like me? I barked with laughter and told him “I sure hope not.” “I am serious!” he said. “And so am I” I told him. “Why do you cut wood for me?” he asked. “Because I can and you can’t, because I like you and think you have real potential for such old guy, because I need to learn from you and you need to be more like me (in the sense that he is placing his trust in the Savior), and simply because we are neighbors and I want to show you that not all Americans start wars and cause problems.” I said to him as I was leaving.
6. The final lesson that I learning so far is that I need far more wisdom than ever before to help a 86 year old blind guy with a really dirty mind, to place his simple trust in a Savior. Leading the young is simple in comparison, and I have this terrible feeling in my heart that Lybe is going to choose to not believe in the end . . . his whole life and his complete understanding of it is pulling him one direction, and on the other side is just one foreigner. Man, I am praying that Holy Spirit is cutting loose with this guy, and soon.

100 in the shade

There is hot, and then there is hot. Right now it is 100.2 in the shade! This is our 5th straight 100+ day, but it is the first day that our shady thermometer reads over 100 degrees. It is difficult to get anything accomplished. Heat inertia has taken over unfortunately and that is super bad, because as always there is tons to accomplish . . . always more work than time or energy allow. I wonder how hot it will eventually get today . . . they were only calling for 105 or so. Man!

An 8 hour drive north of us, it’s 20 degrees cooler! A 2.5 hour flight going north to Berlin Germany, the temp is 40 degrees cooler!!! Thus one can conclude that this is not a Europe-wide heat wave that we are experiencing, this is more of a local phenomena.

It’s usually quite hot here in the summer, but this is hot hot even for us. This morning I was chopping and splitting wood for my 86 year old neighbor, who kept trying to give me moonshine to drink “to combat the heat” he told me. On an empty stomach, I doubt that whisky would have cooled me off much and I begged off, spouting work reasons and the very early hour.

It is difficult to function and be effective in extreme temps like these . . . and it is difficult to function and be effective spiritually when we find ourselves in extreme situations and extreme challenges. But that is when the spiritual is supposed to kick in, right?

Well I am not so sure. It seems to me that spirituality needs to be something we exercise daily and expose daily to the stresses of our lives, rather than thinking of it as some kind of magic carpet or blanket designed to get us out of the toughest situations. But usually it seems, that the people I know and person that I am, perceives spirituality to be something I have rather than something I am. Thus when it is 100 degrees in the shade of life, way hotter and more difficult than I am comfortable with, I falter. It’s like I am looking for a way out, instead of steadfastly working through it. Clearly I need to remember that my connection to the Father is something I am, not something I have.

The boyfriend chronicles 2

The news gets even better. Jelena (read about her here) was not content to just rag Bilijana about her new boyfriend, but she too decided that she needed a Savior! There have been more people come to Christ in the last months, than we had in previous years. We heard about this one on Saturday while we were baking in 100+ degree heat, building a new church building in the city where Jelena, Bilijana and Vale live.

Saturday there 13 of us out there dying in the heat and merciless sun, building frames for concrete walls, and digging out a wall in the stone-like soil. Here are some photos of our guys working in the Sahara-known-as-Kymanovo.

These gentlemen all attend the International Church in the Hairy Armpit and volunteered their time and money and sweat and blood so that people like the three girls mentioned above can find a Savior. Why don’t you get involved too? Write me and I can list the ways that you can make a difference. Is it time for a revival in the Hairy Armpit?

"Do you have a new boyfriend?"

Jelena was teasing Bilijana. “You are just beaming” she said, “Have you found a new boyfriend?” Bilijana’s smile did not falter at all, but her answer was unexpected, “No boyfriend; I found a Savior!”

Bilijana is the result of two years of steady weekly investment and work by my wife Brenda. People inch toward Christ here and have huge social and cultural hurdles to cross in order to embrace the Savior. Thus Bilijana’s statement is all the more powerful. And frankly we don’t hear these things very often here in the Hairy Armpit. Bilijana came to Christ twice as fast as the average believer here!

Then I was talking to a powerful businessman today who attends the International church where I pastor and he was telling me about some folks that he has been cultivating for two solid years! They inch forward and then take two inches back, three forward, two back. It is difficult to have the patience for these kinds of investments in people, and even more difficult to see God’s big picture in the whole process. But in the end, as Bilijana discovered last week, a Savior is far superior to a new boyfriend.

The ruined harvest

There is little good to say about the Hairy Armpit in general. We are far from those we are closest to, live in homes that do not belong to us, work with people who do not look, smell, think or speak like we do. But the food is usually the best in the world, so there are some good things. The number one export for the country of the HA is wine. That also means that we have some of the best grapes in the whole world. Except this year.

Last summer was too cool, the winter too warm (no snow) and now the Spring too wet! So as you can see from this photo this is what the grape harvest is looking like this year. 70% of the grapes are ruined on every bunch (this one is actually better than most of ours.


The spiritual harvest can easily be ruined as well. If we and the churches we lead don’t have the right climate and balance required to produce a healthy harvest, it is way too easy to ruin all the potential. It can be done by focusing too many resources on ourselves, or by having an inward focus, or by overcrowding the new believers (then they fall away because they can’t develop their own roots) or by not nurturing them carefully and faithfully as they are finding Christ . . . and probably a million other ways. But most of all we lose the harvest, simply because we are not farming most of the time.

This year, millions of dollars will be lost in the Hairy Armpit because of the imbalances in the weather. Many will be hungrier than usual. Many will not have work at process time. Barrel makers are going to lose most of their contracts, seasonal workers who live off the money they make from picking and processing grapes, better start looking for new jobs. And the church, and especially us as leaders, need to be completely and totally intentional about the climate in our fellowships.

It's people I can't stand

Mark preached a great message Sunday morning. His point about spiritual indifference was powerful. Jesus and His agenda, Kingdom, plans, desires -- all need to move me and motivate me. But sometimes they don’t, and that is what Mark accurately nailed as spiritual indifference.

As I have tried to examine my heart these last 24 hours and look at the causes, reasons and cycles of spiritual indifference in my soul, I think I am starting to see a pattern. It’s people I can’t stand.

Don’t get me wrong, I like most people and most people like me. Those aren’t the ones that I am talking about. No, I am talking about the people who are immune to the wisdom and influence of others. I am talking about the people who do their own gig at the complete expense of the rest of the group. I am talking about people who attempt to hold everyone accountable, while never being accountable in any way themselves. I am talking about people who negotiate and politic their point of view behind the scenes, and erode people’s confidence in their leadership.

I so wish these types of people were bloggers! Get their ideas, perceptions and points of views out there for everyone to see . . . rather than leaving me feeling like I am fighting phantom ghosts that negate all things potentially good in life, church and relationships.

Many are the days that I wish I could stay buried in studying God’s word, and quietly communing with Him, and have little to no contact with people like these phantoms . . . but unfortunately this is a people business, not a function of solitude. These are the days I want to be a mechanic rather than a pastor/missionary.

"A beer drinking club with a running problem"

This is The Hash club. It is quite the group of expatriates. Hash clubs exist in most major cities around the rest of the world. It is in many ways, the church (small c) of the International community. There are currently almost 1500 hashes around the world. You can see the Hairy Armpit Hash site here.

One of our church folks attend the local hash and has invited me to join in with them. It’s a natural place to meet non-praying folks. Again as I stated in the paragraph above, this is the church of the International Community. They have a Hash Bible, and also The Religious Advisor and believe it or not, the Hash Hymnal.

Penetrating clubs like this for the express purpose of being spiritual whatevers to them, with them, for them, is not what I am suggesting. Instead I am suggesting that we join in with them for the simple reason that we love people, because God loves people -- winning people in 2007 involves lots more caring it seems, than in previous decades. Perhaps I am wrong since I have only 4.5 under my belt thus far, but that is the way that it seems to me.

But in the super-superficial world of expatriate relationships, it may be a real road into people’s lives, and a fine way to see how God wishes to utilize us for His best purposes in the lives of Hashers. Their twisted motto listed in the title of this post sounds like a great place to meet real people, not the make-believe kind. What do you think?

LifeWork

BB describes lifework as “Your LifeWork is the activity that is worthy of the time, energy, and money you have left in life.” The standard Catholic stance on this subject is that only working for God is worthy of this category of lifework. Evangelicals often have echoed that position. I am not so sure that the Catholic/Evangelical position is the correct one.

It all but shouts that my lifework as a religious Kingdom worker, is inherently more valuable than my father’s work as a mechanic. The problem with this line of thinking that elevates vocational, paid, full-time ministry workers as doing a worthy lifework, is that implies that God values His church drones more than His other creations. That seems patently wrong.

It is called by Oz Guinness the Catholic heresy, that clergy/ministry workers are the ones really following God. But what if God ordained my father to be a mechanic? (And just for the record, he has performed far more miracles in his life as a mechanic than I ever will as a minister). What if God in His throne room deemed the most important work for my father to do, was keep people’s automobiles running and on the road? That is certainly his lifework then, is it not? But where is the spiritual element, many ask me?

Well when I do what I do well, that is about as spiritual as life ever becomes. Excellence reflects God, far better than my passionate or eloquent words might ever do. In my father’s handiwork, I see my Father’s Handiwork.

Here in fact is a photo of one of his recent projects or two . . . but of course this is just for fun, it couldn’t be a lifework could it? By the way, happy Father’s day Daddy, I am very proud of your lifework.

Leading the band

There are few things more gratifying, and fewer still more terrifying. Leading the band. Leading what is not your top skill level, striving for what is beyond you and beyond your abilities, and doing it as a group. That frankly is a recipe for constant stress and struggle. That is where I am at.

It is gratifying to learn new skills, or greatly improve those basic skills you might have, but it is altogether another thing to place them in front of the band at practice and the larger congregation on Sunday. Now amplify it . . . literally . . . where every mistake and mis-strum can be heard in vibrant Fender amplifier quality, and there you have it, the ultimate humbler. Miss a chord, or sing the wrong verse, two events which occur regularly I might add, and then you know what it is to eat crow every Sunday. Now add to that mix of beyond-your-skills reach, 7 other band members, and most of them reaching for the very edge of their abilities as well, and the result can be chaos. Or it can be a miracle.

Making miracles week after week is anything but mundane . . . leading the band to worship . . . is perhaps the most overwhelming and awe-inspiring part of walking along with God each day. Now if I could only find the unbreakable pick.

The spectacular death of the fly

It must be full moon soon or something. We seem to be the epicenter of the strange, difficult and unusual. People in the church acting downright strange too. Maybe I am paranoid and strange myself . . . it is a mystery that I cannot seem to solve at the moment.

Anyhoo the spectacular death of the fly was just that. Brenda is cooking breakfast this morning since the kids are freshly arrived for the summer break (hooray!) and of course it smells deadly, and proved to be so for the fly in question.

So as Brenda is taking the bacon off of the hot burner, I mean it is glowing red, the doomed housefly buzzes around and around and around . . . and then lands on the red hot burner, all but instantly burned to a crispy critter. We had never seen a fly commit suicide before. But this one did.

It gives new meaning to the axiom, if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen!

Cockroaches in the church

There are few critters in the world that cause stronger reactions in people than do cockroaches. My worship team got to church on Sunday at our usual hour before the service to do a final run-through on all the songs. And we discovered a big fat live cockroach on the church floor near the front where the worship singers stand. I ignored it as I do most things in life that don’t interest me very much. But Wendy went over there and pick the cockroach up in her hands to take it outside before she killed, so that we would not have its eggs left laying around in the church for more cockroaches to come in the future.

Now the cockroach itself had caused varying levels of shudders and eeeckks out of different people, but when Wendy picked in up in her hand, that caused a much larger reaction in most everyone! People were totally grossing out about the idea of touching it with the bare hands. Personally I thought it was hysterically funny, especially about how matter of fact Wendy was about the whole thing. She did the right thing, no matter how distasteful.

I did not do the right thing. I was ignoring the cockroach. In fact I had saw it earlier when I first arrived (I was the first person there) and it was a big mama - hard to ignore. But I did, just hoping it would go away. Wendy did the right thing. As I have thought about this whole incident this week, I have come to realize that we rarely do what is right in the church when we have people-versions of cockroaches, i.e. problems. Problems that need to be dealt with in straight-forward, matter of fact ways, that lead to the right result.

Too often I think most leaders are like me, ignoring the problem until there are too many to ignore any longer. If we had only picked up the first problem and took it outside and dealt with it properly, it would have laid no eggs for your future terrorization.

hacksaws, Diplomats and motorcycles

Whatever could those three items have to do with one another? I am not remotely certain to be perfectly honest. But it happened like this: I had been biking early Saturday morning up the mighty Vodno mountain that the capital city lays against to the South. I was wringing wet from sweat . . . it’s 10 kilometers to the end of the asphalt and 9 of them are uphill. I finally reached the end of the asphalt, took a short rest, guzzled water, put on my helmet and glasses, and started back down the hill.

The going down hill part is my favorite part of this particular exercise route, as it is serious downhilling! Very fast. Finally I get to the bottom of the mountain and then I swing West toward my neighborhood. As I am riding past the U.S. Ambassador’s home, out of one of the neighboring drives comes a scooter tearing out of there.

Now scooters are more common than grass here, but this one arrested my attention for three reasons: 1) the man riding it was uncommonly large (the vast majority of people here are very thin), 2) the scooter had diplomatic plates!!!, 3) the man was carrying/holding a hacksaw.

This is a puzzle that I have not been able to figure out to save my life! Why a diplomat on a scooter? Diplomats can afford cars - nice cars. Moreover, why a really big guy on a scooter - dressed up for work in dress clothes and shoes no less!?? Why the hacksaw? And why not take the car (or a taxi if your car is not working!) if you need to carry tools into the office?? And I have about 35 other similar questions that I will not bore you with at the moment. My point is simply this, what am I missing from this picture? What am I not seeing and understanding properly for this encounter to make sense to me?

I preached on the incarnation and the Trinity on Sunday. I will confess that I don’t “get” either one of them either. I was sweating bullets on Sunday as I confessed my problems and struggles in understanding what God is, and has done. As C. was saying last night, it’s as if I think I can almost get it, but then it flies away. I just don’t have enough brain power to get my hands around this Divine Reality. No harder to understand I guess than hacksaws, Diplomats and motorcycles.

No you can't yes you can no you can't yes you can

This is life in the Hairy Armpit. It is all about who you know. It is not a competence model, it is a relationship-connection-good-old-boy system. It’s actually like heaven functions. Heaven is no democracy! Heaven is a who-you-know system. It’s not fair, it’s not equal, it is not democratic.

Today was a perfect example of how this works here in the HA. I have been having Internet Connection problems for the last 6 months, and about 4 months ago, I even had a secondary system put in so that when the primary ISP went out, I would have back-up . . . which I have had to use extensively.

Well I finally had enough this weekend. After finally forcing these guys to come and work on my system, they were here all Friday morning getting my system all souped-up for steady, consistent, stable internet service. Yeah right. It worked for about two hours after they left. It was down all weekend. I cut the cord this morning. Even though we had a contract that still had 10 months remaining on it, they let me go without a whisper. I am on a first name basis with not only all the technical support people, but their wives and children and gynecologists as well. I think they were almost glad to see me go. ☺

Then I went to the cable internet company, those folks who were my back-up system for the last four months. Now they were about to become my primary system. Oh yeah, stable internet! Yes!

Well she told me “no!” “It’s not the end of the month. You can only make changes at the end of the month.” My heart sunk. It’s only the 4th of June, and I had already exceeded my monthly allotment of internet data with these folks . . . what was I going to do for the next 26 days? I cajoled, I asked really really nicely, ok, . . . I begged. She did not even begin to budge. The line behind me got longer and longer. I did not care. Communication with my parents and children was on the line, I was just about to get on my knees and offer free baby delivery services (I was an EMT at one point many years ago) and free weddings for all her children and grandchildren, when the man walked in.

The man is the cable company’s CEO. I had met him while having a coffee with Ray a couple of weeks ago. Since I defy categorizing, Mr. CEO was more than a bit fascinated with me. He recognized me instantly. He pumped my hand and asked me how my life was motoring along? I told him that I was in internet hell and needed a savior. He asked, how can I help? I told him that this little gal behind the desk was tenaciously following company policy that he should give her a raise in pay! But I also was desperate for a internet intervention and what could I possibly do to get one??

He told the girl to change my account status. And my status instantly went from “this cannot be done” to “no problem.” Who you know in the HA matters for more than anything else. I am so very glad that heaven is like the HA and not North America where we live and die by the law.

Ants on the strawberries, grubs in the lettuce

Washing your vegetables in the hairy armpit is far more important than what you might encounter in North America. Unless eating ants and grubs of various sorts does not bother you at all, this is a prudent course of action. Today while washing a pile of strawberries, the rinse showed quite a few ants in the sink afterwards! And I think I crunched a few while eating them (strawberries) after music practice with the girls. I have also noticed that clear-body grubs love to camp out in between the leaves of lettuce on every head! It behooves you to carefully wash each and every leaf.

Probably the bugs and insects under discussion here, would not actually hurt you if you ate them, in fact since I have eaten so many over the years, I am certain of this truth. Yet it is the idea of eating raw, uncooked insects that give me the willies! I am such a girl I know, in fact I wrote about that yesterday and you can read that here.

I need to develop the same problem with bugs crawling around near my heart and soul. Unfortunately, many times those bugs (sin, demons, temptations) don’t give me the willies at all! In fact I often welcome them . . . the more the merrier it seems. I am not bothered at all about how they are swarming around and crawling all over. I need to get out the spiritual insecticide and clean house. Every house needs that occasionally.

Thinking like a woman

As I was trying to explain to Louisa why I had taken a particular direction with a person in the church, I had her undivided attention. Because one person in the church was attacking the both of us! According to the attacker, I should be a defender of the Truth! I should be the pastor who corrects everyone else’s tiniest deflection on (her definition of) the straight and narrow! I should be smart enough to detect and correct every hint of heresy! Why did I not challenge the heretic!!?? Why did I not immediately go on the offensive when this person got a bit derailed? Why!?

Why indeed? Well, because I think like a woman . . . at least according to Lousia. I will admit this news unsettled me quite a bit. I have never been accused of such a thing ever in my whole life! My sensitivity range is somewhere between a stone and a crocodile. My capacity for feelings is generally in the pit-bull to cockatiel range. My patience for wordy expressions is deeply in the negative numbers. I think like a woman?

Needless to say I wanted to hear Louisa unpack this thinking like a woman thing quite a bit more. It was making me nervous. I was afraid I was breaking out in hives or something. Perhaps soon I would catch the vapors! Maybe I needed a new wardrobe I know I know, I am thinking like a woman again . . . but heck even manly men get curious sometimes!

So as Lousia explained why I did not instantly correct this minor heresy that was floating around the room, (this is the explanation of why I think like a woman) was because I was understanding and intuiting the pain that this person was feeling, and that I did not want to correct her in front of others.

Hmmm. There is a fair amount of truth and accuracy in that statement. Though I have never thought of thoughtfulness as being a feminine characteristic. The church can certainly use more of this . . . perhaps we all should think more like a women.

Clarifying outcomes

Probably the hardest leadership (or even personal) task to accomplish with skill is clarifying outcomes. What exactly are you trying to accomplish and why? What does the final product look like? Every successful business works hardest at these questions. The church is not a business, but we are in business . . . the people business.

Measuring outcomes is tough enough, but often just deciding which outcomes the church/kingdom is looking for can drive you bonkers. If you are involved with knowledge work which most church workers are, then this is the most critical skill. We need to hone and define over and over and at multiple levels what exactly we are trying to accomplish! This is a primary weakness in most church-related organizations.

The reason this is so critical is that unless we know exactly what we are reaching for, what we are trying to produce, what we are about, then we never know where to reallocate resources, and we never find a sustainable level of efficiency. Producing anything becomes incidental and occasional.

David Allen quotes Lily Tomlin who said - I always wanted to be somebody. I should have been more specific. Tomlin has the gist of what I am trying to point out about the church, or rather point out about its leadership. If we are not very very specific about what outcomes we are expecting/wanting/searching for, then our possibilities of getting them are correspondingly small.

So do we want big churches? Lots of churches? Are we seeking multitudes of converts? Lots of money? Deep people who challenge their worlds with skill? What are we trying to build and for how long? What legacy are you leaving? Do you even know? Go cat go, and clarify those outcomes!

God-smacked!

As Ray was describing for me how G. came to X, he used this word, “Godsmacked!” Now G. is probably one of the dangerous men in all of the Hairy Armpit . . . his local connections read like a resume for mafia connections. When G.’s asks me “should I kill him for you?” he is probably serious. So when Ray used this term, it really drove home how radically G.’s life has been impacted by God Himself.

I asked Ray what was the most pivotal moment in G. coming into the Family, and without hesitation Ray said “you”. I informed Ray that I was not a moment first of all, and secondly that I can’t pivot worth crap. After Ray finished howling, he unpacked what was pivotal in my encounters with G.

1. “I drank a beer with him.” This was one of those classic cultural moments when you need to do what the non-praying person is doing. G.’s previous interaction with Chr*st*ans was extremely narrow and moral policemen focused. Those members of the Family spent most of the time telling G. what he must give up in order to become a Family member. G. said that I told him to read the Scriptures and listen to God. The fact that I was a religious leader and made no judgement calls on him in those initial meetings was huge.

2. “I listened while drinking a beer with him.“ G. relates that 99.9% of his encounters with Family members thus far, had been G. being given all this information and answers (about questions he did not even have). It was like the person with the most knowledge was the really spiritual person. G. stated that I did not try to teach him anything, only telling him my personal story about how God pursued me, and how I believe God is pursuing all of us. Even more important was patient listening, as G.’s story unfolded for me.

3. ”I did not have all the answers.“ Westerns overload people with information and knowledge. We value competence over everything. People in the Hairy Armpit value relationship over all. But our competence model brings a ton of arrogance along with it. I really have to agree with G. on this one. Most Westerners here have an instant answer for every question -- even ones that aren’t being asked. Doctorate or not, G. says it was really important that I said, ”Hey I don’t know.“

4. ”That I involved lots of other Family members in the process.“ This is a critical part of thinking that says we should ”fish“ with a net, rather than a pole. It is something we really do together, not as individuals. I do remember that actual moment when G. asked me ”who else believes like you do“ and I pointed to the people he was surrounded by at that exact moment as said, ”we all do.“

It was encouraging and good to hear that we are joining in what God is doing, in God’s way, not the North American way. But I am thinking that at least some of the things we are doing, would work well in a North American context? I don’t know, whaddya think? Regardless let’s pray that more and more people get Godsmacked! Alright!

The problem with healing - by someone who has been healed

I got all kinds of questions and problems with the way we handle and approach healing within the Body. Last night I was at a small group meeting that started out well and then degenerated into a “heal me” session. Now let me clarify this upfront . . . I am for healing. I believe healing happens today, because I myself have been healed spectacularly, with before and after photos even! I am for healing.

Ok, but demanding it bothers me much. Way much. I know that the book of James tells the sick to call for the elders, be anointed with oil and that prayer of a faith-filled person accomplishes much (which BTW was never done last night). But when people start demanding that God heals, insisting that God heal, naming and claiming that heal . . . I can hardly stand it. I am for healing. I have been healed, but it had absolutely nothing to do with me. Honestly, I am not sure that I even asked for healing!

The group last night was asking for the kinds of healing that greatly increase one’s life span. This type of request bothers me the most . . . because these people are in their 60’s, and they are experiencing the aches, pains and challenges that typically come at that stage of life, and they are insisting on healing from God. These are the people who consistently state that they are the most holy people in our church. These are the one’s who are now asking for a healing that effectively will keep them out of the direct presence of God for a much longer period of time. There is just something wrong with that.

As I said earlier I don’t even think I asked for healing . . . I was too worried about my wife and three little kids to think about healing, since the doctor said that I was to die within the next 36 hours max, it was time to get my house in order. To make matters, worse, I can not tell you one single definitive reason why God healed me and not . . . a 12 year old boy of my friends who died a few weeks later, or my neighbor who died a few weeks after that . . . and a thousand other people that were more worthy, needed, loved, or had potential far exceeding mine. Don’t you dare spiritualize this! My point is that the healing I experienced had nothing to do with me and everything to do with God. He did it because it pleased Him to do so and no other reason that we can be sure of.

In my line of work I have prayed 1000s of times for various people to be healed. To my knowledge never has a single one of them been healed. Do I believe God can? Certainly! Do I believe that God does sometimes? Certainly! Do I believe we can force God or have a magic structure or formula to get a healing? Not one bit. I still have no idea why God healed me and not that 12 year boy of my friends. I would not have done it that way were I God.

When the “heal me“ prayer meeting showed no signs of finishing, I headed home. Who knows when it ended. Last thing I was told that one said was, ”I came to get my healing tonight, and we are going to keeping praying until it happens.“ I think God is immune to such pressure. He is God. A God who definitely heals (I am a living breathing example of His healing power) but He does it on His terms, not ours.

The chicken's toes

Language is a funny thing. We went to a little food dive called Byre and sat down under the canopy to have a bite of dinner after Brenda’s big women’s conference that she was leading. There were three of us sitting there and getting ready to order. I ordered a special Breaded Chicken dish and the waiter said, “Oh you want chicken toes.” Brenda said, “Chicken toes????” “Yes chicken toes.”

This caused no small amount of conversation at our table while we waited to see exactly what I would be getting for supper. I imagined the worst it could be would be something like chicken feet that I have had at many an Asian dive . . . and although they have little (read none) meat on them, they are still considered a delicacy. I will admit freely that I don’t get it when it comes to chicken feet, but then again, I am not Asian.

So when my meal arrives, they clearly are not chicken toes, but in fact are chicken fingers (which chickens also do not have). Interestingly enough, Macedonian language uses the same exact word for fingers and toes, thus our confusion. I wonder why we never have a dish called ”chicken feathers“ or ”chicken skin“ or ”chicken beaks“ all of which a chicken actually has.

The moral of this story is that you can frame any subject with any number of positive or negative words that actually have little to do with the substance. I hope that I never do that in relationship to spiritual things. Perhaps that would be called sin.

uuuummh, that smells good!

While he may only be 8 and a half years old, Stefan has a keen nose for good food. And here he was, hanging onto my fence, breathing the intoxicating smell into his lungs as deeply as he could. “Did you know” he said to me in his very grown-up manner of speaking, “that the smell of roasting peppers is probably the best smell in the entire world?” I could not possibly agree more. That is why I almost always roast peppers when I have some meat marinating nearby. The smell is divine.

Three times Stefan came by and said to me, “wow that smells good!” In fact just writing this story down for you is making my mouth water for more!

I so wish for my life to be that kind of “wow that smells good” kind of life. I wish that my life were the kind that had that effect on people. That they would come back over and over again, just for another whiff, and to say, “wow that smells great.” That people would want to be with me, because the anticipation of what is to come is irresistible. I think those are the kinds of people He wants us to be. Make me so Father, make me so.

the roar of crickets

It is just like a sonic buzz. You can’t hear yourself think. You can feel the vibration in your bones. It is the chorus of millions of crickets singing to one another, unfettered by the concerns of who might be listening, who might be near by, what hour it might be, what anyone else thinks, how comfortable or uncomfortable they may be, or even where they find themselves.

They are doing with enthusiasm, what they were created to do.

The results were a roar.

This was my experience as I rode into the animal preserve. Often it seems like my life is more mouse-like. There aren’t many roars. It is not a volume thing, . . . I have a built-in amplifier. I sing loud and preach louder. It is much more that often all those other elements are missing. I am not unfettered by concerns of who might be listening. I am too concerned about who is nearby. I am too sensitive to what hour it is. I am way too concerned about what others think. My comfort levels often rule my life, and most of the time, where I am, controls my actions.

“But you are not a cricket” someone may observe, and right you are. I am far far more, yet less too, because I have these unneccesary concerns that make me too self-conscious to really be free in any action.

I want to roar about the power and majesty of God. I want to roar about His love for us - even in all our unloveliness. I want to roar about the grace that He gives so freely and that gives us such an amazing life. And I want to roar about Him! Its what we were created to do!

Perhaps my new motto in life should be, Not to be outdone by crickets.

Cherry pickin'

“Uncle! Uncle!” the girls called out to me, “can we take some of the cherries?” “Sure you can” I said, even though the cherry tree does not technically belong to me. . . it belongs to my neighbor. But about a third of it is in my yard, and Mladen, the neighbor, gives me complete access to it. Here is a photo of a bunch of cherries.





I have been baking cherry pies and such pretty much non-stop this week.. But it is the pits, getting the pits out! In fact cherries are a pretty good metaphor for life. No matter how sweet and juicy and wonderful they/it are/is, there are still those darn pits to deal with!

Sitting at my kitchen table de-pitting these piles of cherries always gives me a crick in my back. And even the anticipation of a cherry cobbler does not lessen the pain always. Removing the pits in my life causes me pain too. Especially in the patience it requires.

Patience to get to the fruit, patience to know when the ripe moment has arrived, patience to see the cobbler in what I am doing everyday! Cherry picking seems like lots of fun, but unless you keep a sense of wonder about it, like the girls in the first paragraph, it can be the pits.

The depressing smiling american

You can generally spot an America here from 5 blocks away. And you can often hear them before you can see them. But when you see them (them being American Christians fresh off the boat, er . . . plane) they usually are smiling like nobody’s business. The problem is that in the East, people don’t smile, especially in public.
Even missional people can fall into the “I-have-to-have-a-Jesus-smile-on-my-face-if-I-am-a-real-christian” syndrome. Recently I had one of my Croatian students address this issue in one of her papers that she was writing for me. Renata said:
I need to point to the most common question American missionaries ask "Why are people so depressed here, and how come they are spending so much time in cafes?“ I have a contra question for the missionaries "How can you be smiling all the time, apparently showing interest in people while remaining so reserved?"
Renata saw right to the heart and truth of the matter, that we Western Christians are apparently happy and living correctly at the surface, but that we rarely share what is going on inside of us with others - in other words, we rarely if ever live in true fellowship with others, i.e. no koinonia.
Christians in this part of the world find this to be very depressing. The lack of depth in our Western relationships is an anathema here. Far better to be sad, depressed, down and real than to be smiling and outwardly happy with no true friends.
Of course this is a generalization of Westerners, but one we all will agree has deep substance. Anyone who has been a pastor for any length of time, will quickly tell you that the number one problem with most folks is that they don’t have deep and significant relationships with others outside their nuclear family. Christians here find such persons to generally be the depressing smiling American.

Sleeping in the fast lane

While accomplishing that most usual and standard missionary behavior, i.e. making an airport run, I was racing along as usual and thinking about all the things that need to be accomplished today before I lay me down to sleep. That daunting list took all of my focus and energy until I saw him lying in the fast lane, under the overpass.

Him being a dog, might make this more believable, but I am here to tell you that I have never seen a dog lay down in the road on the highway before. On my little street yes, all the time, but where cars are coming at you regularly at 85-90 miles per hour, never. But there it was, in the shade of the overpass, lying in the fast lane.

I suspect that it is now in doggy paradise/hades depending on your canine-ology . . . they are all going to hades in my view, but nevertheless I had to stop thinking about my overwhelming day, and contemplate why this animal would stop and place itself in the utmost danger.

The conclusion I reached was that like me, it probably did not acknowledge the danger, or perhaps it thought that it need rest and shade more than life (literally), or that (unlike me) everything worth living for had past and this was a fairly quick way to doggy eternity.

I find that when I lay down in the fast lane, I invariably get run over. I need to spend more time praying for, and practicing, wisdom in life. After thinking about this today, I have decided I would rather go in my sleep.

Frog inertia

The dead ones are like a carpet on the road. You can’t imagine how many we are talking about. It was flabbergasting . . . I mean how could so many die? I assumed that they all were mainly killed in the evening and night, because until today, I really had not seen so many during the day when I am out biking and getting my daily exercise.

But I did see a number of them today, and darn, if I did not almost run over them too! I began to see that the frogs either did not see me coming in time to leap away, or they processed the danger so slowly mentally that they were in mortal danger from my not-so-fast mountain bike.

I call this newly observed phenomena, frog inertia. I seem to have it too. I process too slowly when I am in a tempting situation, and then just when I am about to get run over, I almost always leap to safety at the last possible second.

I process too slowly when I am under pressure. Life seems like a runaway freight train and there are too many near misses. I can’t see the danger of going my own direction, and I am especially vulnerable to fast moving wishes and wants, that will flatten me if I don’t make a heroic jump out of their path. Frog inertia can get you killed.

Will God send someone else?

Jovan argued that if he did not follow the call of God on his life to go to the unreached people group, that God would then send someone else. I asked, “who says so? what do you base this on? how do you know?”

Does God always have a second plan? Then why are there over 6000 unreached people groups listed on the Joshuaproject website? Does God have a second or third or fourth plan for them?

Needless to say, this led to a loud and intense discussion in the classroom. There clearly are few second plans in God’s design . . . He is calling . . . people ignore that call . . . people perish into eternity without God, and we sit back expecting God to have a second and third and fourth plan. Well God may, but then again He may not.

I find this sense of universalism growing in the church today. “God will accomplish it.“ ”He will find another way if you don’t go.“ The class was clearly reluctant to agree that most people are hell-bound. Shoot it even sounds harsh to my not so politically correct ears!

It seems to me that God does have a plan . . . you and me. And if we don’t do it, then who is to say that there is someone else to be sent? If you won’t go, who will?

Mayday Mayday!

It is my very favorite Communist holiday of the year! It is the day of nine-hour picnic’s, close interpersonal conversations, grilling out, eating and drinking heartily and in general one of the most relationship-rich days of the year.

Today was a very unique May Day for me, as I am currently at the Seminary in Croatia . . . so this May Day was one of languages . . . we were constantly switching from English to Macedonian to Serbo-Croatian and back to English (with Russian throw in occasionally too, as Lujdimila is from Ukraine). In fact it felt like we were actually speaking some new foreign language that was all four, yet one.

It was also a day of being human. No professorial clothes or attitudes, just kick back and chillax as a human being. The conversations ranged from marathoning to biking to BMI’s to diets to organizational restructuring to which Mission does what best to nursing programs to children and spouses, to what form the assignments are due in tomorrow.

But it was also a day of hanging out and getting a head start on eternity. Heaven has to be like this, cause these were all gifts from God Himself . . . a cobalt blue sky, perfect 70 degree temperatures, the luscious smell of meat grilling, no insects (well not many yet) and good friends. Can you think of a better description of heavenly? It is May Day!

Danger signs - literally

There are all kinds of danger signs . . . here is one for you in this photo. I bet you are wondering how (better yet why!) I am so close. We rarely pay attention to warning signs. I don’t know why. Some people say that it’s just human nature to ignore warning signs and to believe that it could ever happen to you . . . or me. My brother was just telling me how close he came to being blown up by one of these things when he was stationed in Croatia after the war!

This sign says, “Do not walk here, there is a great danger of unexploded mines!”


So why am I standing so close? It’s a good question and for the life of me I don’t have a good (i.e. rational) answer. These signs are everywhere around Osijek, Croatia where I am currently hanging out, teaching at Evangelical Theological Seminary. I must admit that teaching Missiology pales in comparison to mine fields . . . is this a guy thing? huh?

This sign is in English, so you can read it for yourself ☺


So why are these signs up all over the airport in Zurich? Smoking is going to kill you, and so I want to be sure and tell you that, and then provide a special room where you can commit incremental suicide with my assistance. That is what the warning signs really seem to be saying.

So when I read similar warnings in God’s Word, why is it any surprise that my lack of concern for the warning resembles my lackadaisical response to these other warnings? Are there too many warnings in our lives today? Do we not really believe the warnings that are given? Or do we have that fatal human tendency to believe that it can’t happen to us? I don’t really know, but I working through taking God’s warnings more seriously than I do the mine field warnings.

What the cars have been drinking?

She said “Let’s wait for the light, because of the holiday you don’t know what these cars have been drinking!” Drinking indeed! Well contrary to my wife’s misspoken words, the car’s aren’t drinking anything in the Hairy Armpit, but most everyone else does.

It is used to entertain guests, to stimulate discussions, given to babies in their bottles, to give honor to those who have achieved status by doing good in the community, it is in fact the center of practically all social activities in Slavic culture . . . it is impossible for people here to understand a society where drinking is not the center of life and relationships . . . just ask the two fellows I passed this morning at 7:35 am who were having their morning beer at the cafe. They greeted me warmly, and I them . . . passing on their offer to share a beer with them. But since I was not close to them relationally, they were not overly insulted by my refusal to drink with them.

But in most of Europe drinking is the context of social discourse . . . and social discourse is the foundation of relationships . . . and relationships are the foundation of sharing the Truth.

There are certainly people here who abuse alcohol as there are everywhere in the world. The wrecks left in the wake of abuse are heartbreaking and frankly awful. We all have seen them. Many of my friends around the world are working right in the middle of these addiction- wrecks . . . and they can tell you horror story after horror story.

But the reality that we Evangelicals ignore is that those lost in the desperation of addictions (any addiction) are generally a minority . . . the majority partake in social discourse responsibly. Too many people in my line of work lose vast opportunities and access to these relationships because their cars aren’t drinking anything either.

50% of my church relationships are conducted in a completely alcohol-free environment. 95% of my non-church relationships are conducted in an alcohol-included environment. (John 2:10-11; 1 Tim. 5:23; 1 Cor. 9:22-23).

While the cars aren’t drinking, and honestly they aren’t☺, those that Christ died for are . . . and there are already so many barriers to them hearing the Gospel, should we build one more wall for them to climb? What will the wine-making Christ say about that, when we stand before him face to face?

Privacy - interruptions without permission are unwelcome? (Completely present 2)

Promptness can be defined by a clock, only in monochronic cultures. In our western monochronic culture, we have placed values on units of time . . . seconds, minutes, hours, etc . . . . and we place high value on these units . . . therefore you show others that we value them by valuing their units as well. Promptness (clock promptness) and schedules are those things which lead us to live efficiently . . . but is that good?

Polychronic cultures see time as the point where you are at the moment and not something that can be divided into any types of units. Thus time becomes almost irrelevant by the western (monochronic) definition. How you handle time (the place where you are at that moment) in synergy with relationships, determines how you value others. So promptness is not a clock event. Instead the result is multilevel, simultaneous involvement (no one excluded because of time) . . . interruptions are simply part of the rhythm of life.

When all promptness is defined by the relationship rather than the clock, it is actually possible to be completely present. I wrote chapter one of this concept and you can read it here if you wish, but being completely present in this moment, and in no other, is beyond the grasp of most monochronics.

I am currently teaching at the seminary and I can say with authority that 99% of the students here are culturally polychronics. They have no sense of time (in a monochronic sense) and consequently they also have no sense of privacy and respecting my time (in that monochronic sense) because they are not monochronics. They are polychronics. You know you are loved, when you are interrupted constantly, because life (and time) is about relationships. Maybe polychronics have it right after all.

A Marvel of Western Ingenuity

It took me a total of 13 minutes from the moment I arrived at the airport, until I was completely checked and ready to fly. Thirteen minutes! You can’t have this in North American because we are over-challenged in our ability to manage freedom responsibly. This system that allows 13 minute check-in’s, requires a certain attitude to accomplish. It requires everyone to be willing to follow the guidelines ruthlessly. It requires everyone to value everyone else’s time at least as much as they value their own. In fact, if you have no check baggage, it requires exactly zero minutes to check-in, because you can do it all online up to 60 days before and then proceed directly to the gate!

Did I happen to mention that you don’t have a seat number with this airline? So not only did check-in take 13 minutes, but we seated an entire aircraft with almost 200 people in less than 10 minutes. That is right 10 minutes. Because you get on the plane and take any availible seat, moving as far from the aisle as possible to make it easier for the next person to sit. Now if you have ever seen or experienced the 45 minute boarding process used in my least favorite airport in the world for instance, Dulles . . . a 10 minute boarding event is breath-taking!

Oh, did I happen to mention that it is the cheapest airline in the world? Yep, all this speed and for beans!! So how do they do it? Well they pack us like sardines onto the plane ☺. The seats are closer together than a standard airline. So they get more people on per flight than a regular carrier. Also they strongly encourage you to carry on the heaviest bag you can manage to carry. That’s right, they want you to carry your own baggage, rather than they managing your luggage for you.

All in all it was a marvel of ingenuity . . . unless you love the comforts . . . me, I wanna get there and cheaply.

What a day!

I wrote this a few days again, but I think you can handle that . . .Today was about as perfect a day as anyone could have. Today I got to see my son play soccer in a high school game for the first time ever. I imagine that sounds like some small matter to those who get to see their kids play in various sports all the time, but when you live 1200 miles away from your kids . . . it is exceedingly rare for such a thing to happen.

In fact, most missionary parents never get to do what I did today. And I not only cheered for Jake, but also Christine from Macedonia, and Josh from France, and Becki from Russia, and Yoel from Turkey, and Ellen from France, and . . . well you get the picture . . . I was yelling for all the parents that could not be there ever and watch their kids play in a simple game.

Jake was the General out there . . . making sure every person was covered and that the team was safe and protected as well as his defense could make it. They creamed the opposition!




Its great to see him rise to the top . . . especially in light of his challenges in the past. He is becoming quite a man, and I was thrilled to get to see him play today, and see what he is shaping up to be. One thing is for sure, he is becoming a man to be reckoned with, and God has wired him just for such a task.

Once long ago, a psychologist told us that we were the perfect parents for a boy like Jake. But he got it all wrong . . . Jake is the perfect boy for parents like us.

Prop planes over the Alps?!?

Yesterday's flight over the Swiss Alps in an ancient prop plane was over the top . . . just barely. I wasn't sure we were going to gain enough altitude to clear the tallest peaks. In fact I wrote this post while actually looking out this small airplane's window and it seemed to me that I could reach out and grab some snow right off the mountain below us at this moment! Here is a photo for you.




Ok I admit it . . . flying is way overrated. There is just something about being inside a tin can 5 miles above the planet surface . . . that is unnatural. On the other hand I love the speed of air travel, while hating the hassles of airports and especially security in our terroristic world.

The lady sitting beside me was freaking out because she had never ridden in a prop plane before and the extra noise and vibration was scaring her. She fretted with her seatbelt the entire time and was hyper-ventilating some as well. I had to help her get it on in the first place and she seemed to be afraid that I will go to the bathroom or something and then we might start to crash and she not be able to get out of it.

The one-handed child across the aisle is a poster boy for the ADHD society. The person sitting in the seat directly in front of him is currently getting pounded as the boy kicks the chair repeatedly. I think his mother is close to the point of seeing if he can fly with one arm. I feel like I am caught in a Shakespearean comedy, or at least a Mexican soap-opera (which my wife loves to watch).

Now the stewardess is coming through offering us a sandwich. My seatbelt-challenged seatmate asks the stewardess a typically Balkan question about the sandwich . . . "Is it ours?" The implication being that no one else's food products are worthy of consumption. Hopefully the beer she is drinking will relax her a bit and at the very least slow her Croatian down . . . I am having a hard time following her, she speaks so rapidly.

Now to add even more excitement to this overly exciting trip, the stewardess just escorted a passenger into the cockpit . . . at least that made my excitable seatmate stop talking . . . but it put a more worried look in her eye. And I too wonder what is up with three in the cockpit . . . ?

Prayerfully I will survive this trip to Zagreb . . . prayerfully someone will actually be there to pick me up . . . prayfully I will be awake to teach class tomorrow . . . I guess if you are reading this at least we made it over the Alps.

Conflict resolution (my recent experience)

due to a flaming post I wrote recently . . . .

it was interesting to see how different people wanted me to, or thought I should resolve the apparent conflict (although I did not see it as a conflict). But since someone was supposedly offended (no one actually ever wrote me and said "David you offended me"), then I must surely do my part to resolve the conflict (which may have never actually been a conflict). What lots of people did write me was that "IF you had said these things to me, THEN I would have been terribly offended."

Which actions were then expected of me were determined by the point of view (POV) of the advice-giver. Amazingly it was like they fell into two camps . . . the “collectivist” or “individualist” POV of the reader/advice-giver. Missionally these designations are usually used to explain cultural differences, like the difference between North American culture and Thai culture. But I experienced both coming out of North America! Here are the two basic Points of View:






What I found clinically fascinating (it was not experientially fascinating nor pleasurable) was the fact that the POV of the person chiding me or cheering me, determined their suggested next course of action AND each side (POV) used scripture to back up their instructions to me!

While everyone agreed that I was either stupid or brave (again depending on your POV) the fact that scripture was used to support both collectivist's and individualist's POV taught me something very important: that we often read and use and see scripture from our POV, (i.e. our POV informs our understanding of scripture) rather than Scripture informing our POV. This is dangerous, especially in a world that makes Truth very personal and non-absolute. I think I want to be more careful to let the Word of God say what it says, rather than using it as a instrument or weapon for my purposes.

The wisest 8 year old

“You are not like the foreigner that lived here before“ was Stefan’s opening line. He must have been really bored to have come over and begin talking to me. Stefan is 8 years old, but he speaks like an adult. He is extremely frank, especially for someone from the Hairy Armpit. I mention that he and I arrived in the Balkans about the same time. We came here the year he was born. He thought that was hysterically funny.

”Sometimes Janice allowed me to come inside the yard“ he said, referring to the former tenant. ”She was from Holland“ he informed me. ”Where exactly are you from?“ he asked. ”We are sorta from all over“ I told him. ”I was born in Georgia, Brenda in the Zaire, Heidi in Florida, Jake in Canada, and Helen in PA.“ ”And you can come into our yard anytime your parents or grandmother allow you to“ I added. ”Really?!” he asked.

And he ran away to ask if he could come into our yard and help me pull weeds. Seconds later he returned and said that his aunt gave him permission to come into the yard and he did. I showed him which weeds I was targeting and he went at it with a vengeance, all the while telling me that I had to make certain that I got the roots up, or that we would be doing this again in about 2 weeks! Indeed, he was pulling them up, roots and all.

This little 8 year old guy who was helping me pull weeds today, understood more about weeds and roots than most adults. That to really remove those weeds from our life that we need GONE, we gotta get the roots too. I am suspicious that most days, Stefan is wiser than me.

Completely present

I think this is a state (country, universe) where few of us ever visit. I know that I rarely get there, even though I have been working to do so steadily for years and frankly I am closer now than I ever was before my brain aneurysm 12 years ago.

Mark Van Doren describes it this way, There is one thing that we can do, and the happiest people are those who can do it to the limit of their ability. We can be completely present. We can be all here. We can . . . give all our attention to the opportunity before us.

Those who cannot find this place of being completely present, in some fashion will wither away from destination disease. They are always looking around to the next thing. There are always thinking about tomorrow, next week, next month, next year . . . they never are completely present.

For them, life is not about this moment, this breath, this relationship, this child, this spouse, this hour, this God, this life . . . but rather everything seems to dribble away into a means and never an end. Yet if I never have an end, then I never have a present, a now, a this moment.

Sure there are deadlines, and projects, and work. But there is also the present and I want to more and more be completely there ☺

the cost of tease

Can you live without TV? Can you live without cable? Can you live without constant films or shows that you are addicted to?

I have been completely fascinated by a post that my Google Reader brought to my desktop yesterday. It was a financial blog promoting the idea of getting rid of cable. According to them, you can save $60 per month, which comes to $720 a year by getting rid of cable! Save that for a few years and you can buy just about anything you want, including a car!

Or you could invest that money in something other than entertainment. Like world evangelism (half the people in the world cannot freely go to church). Feeding the poor (if you have food in the fridge and a roof over your head then you are in the top 25% of the world’s population). Or you could give more to your local charities that assist all sorts of challenged folks.

What was most amazing were people’s answers about why they could not give up their TV. Their favorite drama was the most frequently given answer. They would be bored, was the second most common answer. I find it a bit hard to comprehend either one of those answers. So when do you exercise, read, pray, study, talk, relate, learn and do if you are watching TV all the time? The cost of the being teased/entertained is high, financially and productively speaking. If only one family in each of our 2000 churches would give up cable for the year and direct those resources to the GCF, it would equal 1.44 million dollars! And think about how many books they might read as well :-)

A disclaimer is in order here . . . we have cable ourselves! Then again I don’t watch it at all (but lets remember that I do have three teenagers!) and plus it costs $7 a month. Does that make me a hypocrite?

fishing rabbits out of the ocean, and hunting fish in the forest

This is about how backward our world has become. How Muslim can the Muslim remain and still be in the Kingdom, and belong to the King? How Hindu can the Hindi be, and yet actually be an inheritor of the Kingdom? As we grapple with missional/contextual issues, these questions are pertinent for those in the West as well.

How rich can a rich person be before they can no longer pass through the eye of a needle? How sensual can a sexy person be and still be a part of the Bride of Christ? How much skin must one cover to be a model of Christ? How much food can a person eat a day and still be Holy as Christ is Holy? How secular can we be and still be in? How much prayer must a holy person offer each day to truly be holy? How much scripture must we read each day to have appropriately have had our quiet time? How much money can I spend on me and still love Jesus? How much time must I devote to evangelism to please Jesus? How much do my small sins (is there such a thing?) hurt me and Jesus, compared to the BIG ones my neighbor is doing? Is how much a person spends on entertainment important to Jesus? Just how much dying is required in this “crucify the flesh“ deal?

Ok ok I have started getting facetious ☺ But I think for the most part these are pretty valid questions (and I have dozens more!) . . . and questions that pertain well to lives that most of us are living. Too often we are hunting for fish in the forest and rabbits in the ocean - Bulgarian Proverb

Egg Dumping - the Easter problem

We have egg problems again this year. My neighbors are all coming by and giving me eggs. Laboriously, carefully, painstakingly painted and colored eggs Here is a photo of some simple ones.



Literally my neighbors are walking around the neighborhood giving and cracking eggs. The traditions connected with this practice are tough to talk about in the context of Christ’s death and resurrection . . . so let me explain some of the thinking behind this practice. People get these eggs blessed by the priest and then the blessed egg is buried in the vineyard to have God’s protection from hailstorms and to try to get God to bring a good harvest . . . some even claim that the egg is still good to eat a year later? In Serbia the first colored egg is kept until next Easter as a guarantee that the family will be healthy and secure. The rest of the eggs are used for Egg Dumping. It is an egg hitting tradition, where you hit everyone else’s egg and try to break theirs and preserve your own from cracking. I always lose at this game as you can see my effort in this picture.


According to the internet a 100 million eggs will be colored in Bulgaria, they will have special paint and designs in Croatia, and in Greece they will mostly just be red . . . signifying the tradition that Mary, the mother of Christ placed a full basket of eggs at the feet of the crucified Jesus and they all turned red from His blood.

As you can see, there is some truth mingled here with lots of fantasy and tradition. My coffee drinking neighbor (read post here) came and gave me four eggs . . . one for each member of my family that is at home at the moment. I just finally point blank asked him, “why the eggs, what is the significance for you?” To which he replied, “I don’t know, you need to ask the women folk.” We chuckled and then on impulse I said to him a standard Christian phrase for this part of the world, “Christ is risen!” and he answered me back, “He is risen indeed!” So in the middle of swapping eggs, we can still spout good solid theology and significant theology at that.

What does all this mean? Well it means that the reason for missional work in Orthodox countries is valid (and difficult) work. A different sort of egg dumping has occurred, in that eggs of Truth have been placed in a basket - eggs of fantasy, magic and culture, and then the whole basket was dropped (dumped). Now try to sort the Truth-egg from the other eggs and see what a quagmire you find yourself in. That is a pretty solid picture of what Truth faces in this part of the world. Sorting it out takes years . . . maybe a lifetime.

Great Friday?

“Fresh Lettuce” yelled one, “the juiciest tomatoes!” sang another, “a sale, a sale!” rang a third. It’s not known as Good Friday here, its Great Friday. The vendors of fresh vegetables hawked their wares from every side as I walked the street and market, along with thousands of others. Everyone shopping hard and buying up for the long Easter weekend.

I was flowing with the crowds when I hear someone yell, “komshe!” (neighbor!) at me. I looked up and indeed it was my closest neighbor. He motioned for me to come in and around, behind the produce stands that lined the market end to end. I have never been on this side of the stands . . . it was a very different perspective of the community. Then a more interesting thing started to happen . . . those that know me within the community were startled to see me sitting on the vendor’s side! It was interesting to see the various thoughts flowing across their faces.

Anyhoo back to my neighbor. He told me to sit down with him and have a coffee and we did . . . talking about our kids (our oldest two are very similar in ages). Then we began to talk about Great Friday as it is known here. It was sad to discover that he knew little about the meaning of Great Friday and even less about its significance. Pray that we will have more opportunities to sit and drink coffee and unpack the significance of Great Friday. Will you? It has taken almost three years of trust-building to get to this point where we can sit down and have a coffee as friends. As I have commented before time is view quite differently here, and as a foreigner it takes even longer. It’s hard to have enough patience . . . I want to tell him everyhting now!

apology

There are few things more frustrating than being foolish and needing to apologize. But that is where I find myself. I am sorry for the language I employed to bring attention to the post entitled, “Skimming Work Funds.” I apologize to anyone I offended, and most of all am sorry for confusing the issue further. The language I chose was inflammatory, and that was wrong on my part.

The worse part of it all is that the inflammatory language I used prevented about 98% of the folks who read this particular post, from working through the material contained in the post, or even dealing with it in a rational manner. Yet, that is certainly no defense.

But I am not sorry for having raised the issue. I was not referring to, nor complaining about Salary reductions (which are not salaries at all, but rather allowances). Instead the point of the entire post was the 15% administrative fee imposed on Mission-Field Approved Specials and Missionary Work Specials (Car funds and Outfit funds excepted). My points were as follows:

1. The Great Commission Fund (GCF) is in trouble; income is falling short. (Though, through the amazing generosity of some people, we have been bailed out of this current urgent situation!)
2. Giving to missionary projects and work funds are soaring (according to what one Board member told me).
3. Number two did not cause number one, but is rather a result of how number one is funded and disbursed in my opinion.
4. Re-appropriating money that givers intended for one thing, to something else (anything else!) needs to be questioned, even when you have a legal right to do so.
5. The reason for the rise in Work and Approved Specials (in my opinion) is that less and less money from the GCF is actually going overseas (I am referring to a less percentage of money, not an actual dollar amount) and this decrease is being address by other donors in the form of Approved Specials and Work Specials.
6. To keep us out of this quagmire, I suggested a two-fund system where we raise missions dollars that go to overseas missions, and that we raise North American dollars that fund North American ministries.

Again I am sorry for the language I chose to use and for the pain that I may have caused any individual or group. Unfortunately I will probably make more mistakes in the future. But this is a critical issue for us as Bolman and Deal say in their book Reframing Organizations “Organizational ethics must ultimately be rooted in soul - an organization’s understanding of its deeply held identity, beliefs and values.” God has more than enough resources to accomplish all His tasks for today, and His mercies are there fresh and new each day.