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.

Between the Sun and Wind

Between the sun and the wind is a hard place to define. They both are illusive entities. But if you can find just the right amount of both of them, then you will experience the perfect temperature and ambiance. Like I said, this perfect balance is a hard thing to define and find.

Yesterday I wrote a post that many took the wrong way . . . and that would mean that there was definitely too much sun! Some days when you are in the Hairy Armpit year after year, its like way too much wind . . . things are cold and lonely. Well I certainly have not been lonely these last 20 hours or so!

The kids are home from BFA and it is amazing that I have such awesome kids. When I was a kid, I was not awesome . . . I hovered at low-end mediocrity for most of my life. So as a dad, between the sun and wind is a fine place to find. Thank you Lord!

The International Church is going really really well for the most part . . . though we are still searching for the perfect tension between the sun and wind there . . . we are getting closer, and more and more people are coming to Christ!

The Seminary teaching is going well . . . for the most part I have found that balance between the sun and wind at ETS and being there often encourages my soul. The students love me and the administration tolerates me.

Brenda is cranking with ENTRUST training and this those incredible Alliance women have largely funded. Brenda is basking in the perfect balance of sun and wind. Her ladies are growing in leaps and bounds!

My wish yesterday was to assist the CMA in finding the right place between the sun and wind . . . I guess I will keep floundering around until I can find a better forum to discuss these matters.

5:14 am and the Police

Policemen generally like me, but at 5 am no one likes me . . . heck I don’t even like me. In case you can’t tell I am not much of a morning person. I am not even much a mid-day person! But at 5 in the morning, I am far grumpier than usual, so this morning when a policeman pulls me over on a deserted stretch of highway and tells me that I have to pay a 2000 denar fine ($43.95 at today’s exchange) for doing 45 in a 37.5 zone . . . I was not too pleased by that news, plus I had a passenger in the car that I was taking to the airport (why else would I be up at that hour?!).

I told him “no way” (which is what you are supposed to tell policemen here), and then he took my license and car papers and told me that I was going to have to go to the police station and pay the fine. I would have gone with him under normal circumstances, but the passenger in the car has gotta get to the airport! “We have to go pay it right now“ he says to me, ”because I get off my shift at 6:00.“ That is when the alarm bells should have started going off in my head, but not only am I generally grumpy at 5:14 in the morning, I am also mentally befuddled. All I knew was that I had to get Mark to the airport in time to catch his flight. So I wave my arms in the general Macedonian ”I am so freaking frustrated with you“ fashion and get back in my car. That got both policemen involved and they said, ”get back out of the car!“ and were flashing their flashlights at me.

And so I asked him, ”what do you want now? I gotta get to the airport! Tell me where the police station is and I will return after my airport trip and pay the fine and get my documents back.“ He just stares at me . . . and then finally hands me my documents back and told me to slow down. This was so strange, my mind should have really started humming . . . but like I have already said, my thought processes form about as fast as cheese at 5:14 am.

It was only when I was back in the car, and starting to drive away that I realized the whole thing was a shakedown, priming me for a bribe. Just offer the nice policeman half as much as the actual ticket would normally be, and then you are back on your merry way. Of course at that hour, he is lucky I did not just climb into the back of his cruiser and go to sleep. In the hours before the earth turns to that magical point where the sun appears, I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer. On the other hand, there is something to be said for early morning mental density . . . my passenger got to the airport in time, I got my documents back, and didn’t even pay a denar. God clearly is looking out for the simple.

The monkey and the coffee grinder

A rainy Monday, filled with all types of challenges (read problems) and pressures. Its hard to find joy. Ministry too often feels like the proverbial monkey and the organ grinder (or was it a coffee grinder). Twisting in circles and going no where, while expending huge amounts of energy.



Confusion about the next step, tendencies to stay with what you know, unwillingness to risk, uncertainty about why you are doing this in the first place are the symptoms of the monkey grinder business. Yeah yeah yeah, I know all about the you are so gifted and God has called you to such heights and all that jazz, but somewhere someplace there has to be some reason you stick with it, doesn’t there?

Ok, so I do have that song Rainy Days and Monday’s always get me down running through my head and this one is both. But its hard to inspire your church family to reach for all the best that God has, when you are having another rainy Monday in the Hairy Armpit.

spunky monkey

There are few things in life more exhausting and exciting than Jr Highers. Personally I can’t stand them. It is one of my least favorite ages in the childhood spectrum. But occasionally a real gem comes along and you think, “Hey, this rocks!” That would be Spunky Monkey.

She is amazing. She has more energy than ten locomotives, and is more excitable than cat in a room full of dogs! Everything is said and done to the extreme. No middle ground anywhere. It is exhausting just to see her in motion, and let me tell you, she is in constant motion!

What I like about her best is that she is my favorite youngest daughter and she totally blows me away all the time. She is the most social person in the entire universe. Her people capacity is off the charts. She is a top athlete and will take on any boy, any day, and often win. She is fun and frisky, fantastic and ferocious, and feline and frenetic all at once. I wouldn’t trade her for anyone or anything in the world. She’s my Spunky Monkey!

F.O.D.

Every family has codes. Some are funny, some are silly, some are serious. When our children were small, we would speak most command words and phrases to them in Russian . . . they seemed to respond much more quickly for some reason when we did that, although we never did figure out why. It is a miracle that our kids turned out remotely as well as they have so far, considering the places we have dragged them to and through, and still do.

My code-speak for Heidi is F.O.D. That would mean that she is Favorite Oldest Daughter since I have two daughters, and they both are my favorite, daughters that is . . . recently I wrote about my favorite son here. Heidi often signs her letters and emails to me FOD. And frankly, she should . . . she is amazing.

We were just visiting with her last week while she was on Spring Break and we were finishing a mini tour raising money and teams for our Parent Organization. I rediscovered that there are vast differences between my 18 year old college sophmore, and the average 18 year living in the States. Now I am not taking credit for those differences, because it is impossible to discern which of them are due to the trauma of being our daughter and which of them are simply due to being an MK, and which of them are due to Heidi just being Heidi.

As I sit here in the Zurich airport looking at the light snow falling, thinking about the week we just spent together; the differences I noted in Heidi versus her roommates at college and other gals her age are striking.

1. Delayed gratification: This is almost a forgotten concept in the world of people my age, but in Heidi’s world, this is a completely unknown, never-before-discovered idea! Everyone has everything, and they have it now! Yet Heidi is doing without many of the things that all her peers have, in order to complete her education as soon as possible and with as little debt as possible.
2. Focus: I was flabbergasted to see the level of her focus. Few people have such good solid sustained focus. Most folks, regardless of age, are fairly unfocused and lack concentration or even goals. Heidi has them all in droves.
3. Hard Work: My three teenagers have complained frequently in their lives, that all the other kids work part-time jobs and have tons more disposable income than they do. I do not allow my kids to work real jobs until them reach college . . . then work is expected, not only allowed. Heidi now works two jobs, has a fulltime load of classes, and manages her time quite nicely. It is rare to see someone her age work so hard. Her roomies would be a much more typical example . . . they start a movie at about 11:00 pm each evening, while Heidi is going to sleep (because she has to get up early and go to work), and then Heidi gets up, goes to work, then to class, and returns to their room to find both roomies are generally still sleeping.
4. Intelligence: This is not one that she has more of than other people her age, just how she applies it is fascinating to watch. Her understanding of people and academics is just so good . . . it’s like she is much older than 18.

And I could go on and on, but suffice it to say that I am so proud of her, she is definitely the F.O.D.

24 hours – a whole world changes

That is about what it takes to get to the Hairy Armpit from the USA. This trip was full of misadventures as usual. The best one being, leaving my backpack (and that would include all computers, electronics, passports and tickets) on the shuttle bus from the rental car return to the airport. O.J. Simpson would have been proud of my run through the airport to catch up to the bus . . . though we (the backpack and I) were separated for 15 minutes or so, all was well in the end (the bus driver was looking out for me since I tipped him well).

And of course we got lost driving to the airport and the other usual assortment of travel related horrors that usually occur to me when I travel . . . but that is not the amazing part of travel, that is just the normal part of travel.

The amazing part of travel is that the whole world can tilt on its axis in just a short 24 hours of traveling. The landscape changes, the mode of travel changes, the dress changes, the attitude changes, the architecture changes, efficiency changes, gas prices change, phone sounds change, the smells change (the sweet smell of cigarettes once again), standing-in-line protocol changes, the vehicles change, the expectations change, the welcome changes, the price of coffee changes (my venti cappuccino was $7), the signs change, the pace changes, how things get done changes and of course the culture and languages change as well. It almost seems like we left earth (American earth that is) and landed in outer space somewhere or a different planet or solar system entirely.

How quickly one forgets all these differences when in the USA for a few weeks . . . what did not change is my inability to save anyone, the way folks fill their lives with meaningless stuff in search of meaningful stuff, the way they worry about their families and their felt needs, the way they pursue something with all their busyness, the emptiness in their eyes, and their need of a Savior. A whole world of changes, yes, but most of the important things stay the same no matter what side of the planet you happen to be on today.

My favorite son

There are so few things in life that are excellent, pure total joys. It seems that everything is tainted and twisted and less than perfect in some ways. But today was an exception. Oh there were plenty of challenges about today, don’t get me wrong . . . church was horrible, we spent money like water down a river, I had to say goodbye to my parents, niece and brother.

But it had a perfect moment as well. We were able to call Jake in Germany and talk to him for a few minutes. He informed us that he has been asked to be the Captain of the JV soccer team at BFA. And then he told us that he went with the Varsity team this weekend to their game, and that he got to play and that he SCORED!!

We were so thrilled for him! It has been great to see him begin using his immense natural gifts of leadership, and to have others recognize these things in him as well, and then ask him to use those gifts. Man, my heart is about to burst from pride.

The only thing that could have possibly been better would to have been there and seen it for myself. But that does not diminish his success at all. He is my favorite son.

A master craftsman, a dream renewed

I am gifted, but generally in a negative way. That means that I have the spiritual gift of getting in the slowest line . . . always. We can be at the toll booth, the grocery store, the border crossing, whatever, I always choose the slowest line. My children will not allow me to decide such matters any longer! This gift often spills out into other areas of my life as well, such as you could see from my last post. So I was resigned to an additional two month wait to hear the potential music from this master crafted instrument.

Well the craftsman, who is indeed a Master at his work, did an amazing thing, . . . he decided to ship me another guitar! And I received this amazing guitar number two yesterday and played for hours and hours! If you are looking for an amazing guitar, handcrafted one piece at a time, by a musican/master craftsman, then go here and order yours today!

After playing for three hours, my chord quality started to noticably deteriorate. In comparison to the 45 minutes - one hour that I can normal produce good music on my current guitar, is a testimony to the phenomenal playability of this handcrafted instrument.

I have played in three different worship bands in three different churches these last three weeks with three different guitars . . . all excellent guitars that I would have been pleased to own . . . but this one . . . is a pleasure that defies words.

a broken neck, delayed dreams

Two agonizing months of waiting specifically for this moment. I am not known for my patience to begin with, but especially for something of this nature. So I finally finished tour, and it’s on my birthday of all days! I get up at 5:00 am. Speak all morning in church, lunch with pastor and friends, catch a flight to Atlanta, grab a rental car, get daughter, drive to parents house, and immediately open the package.

The package was a custom made guitar . . . a fine gift from a CMA fellow in New Mexico. So the whole family gets into it and helps me get the fine fellow out of the package! It took some work, because it was so well packed. Once we got it out of the awesome packaging, I quickly laid it down on the floor and opened the case.

It took at least a full five minutes to recognize that the guitar was broken. I thought at first, that the creator had simply shipped it loose, in order to protect it from damage . . . but then I began to suspect it was damaged . . . and then over the next 15 minutes the dread deep in my stomach began to churn some serious acid. The guitar’s neck was clearly broken.

I took these pictures right away for insurance purpose, and then the next morning as we disassembled this is what it looked like . . . shattered. The guy who built it was super cool . . . we talked on the phone, and he wants it back, and he can rebuild it and I can get it in May.













But I gotta tell you, I have felt sick for the last two days. This is the bitter taste of disappointment. Sharper than I have felt it in many years. I have to admit that I am vastly disappointed in this delay, and I am even more disappointed in myself.

It is a shame that I can feel such a sharp sense of pain over a thing. Mind you a beautiful wonderful superb piece of workmanship that I so desperately want to get my hands on and play . . . but in the end, still a thing . . . and the disappointment of all disappointments is that I can care so deeply about a thing and some days have a hard time caring nearly this much about people. How does one fight against being possessed by possessions? How does one balance a keen appreciation for excellence and workmanship, with a thing’s eternal value? I am pondering these things as I examine my heart.

Freebies

Sometimes everything in life seems to have a charge connected to it. It feels like you have to pay for each part of living. And the expense just keeps growing more and higher each year. But not everything costs . . . somethings are reciprocal, and some are actually free in life.

I am one of those people that enjoys all three for the most part. For instance, I don’t mind paying for an excellent meal in an excellent food joint! In fact, come live in the Hairy Armpit for a while and your appreciation that you have a fine food joint available will provide an extra intensity to your appreciation. Last night, the pastor here in Butler took us out to Red Lobster, along with his wife and daughter, and although I did not pay for the meal, it was worth paying for, and in fact I would have been glad to have paid for it.

Some things are reciprocal. Friendship is one of those. But the best ones feel free. Kimmy is like that . . . it is reciprocal, but no one is really keeping count. He and I have just made a commitment to being together as much and as frequently as possible. We have made a commitment of trust (I bought a house sight unseen based on his recommendation and he has access to all my money . . . OK that is not much, but he actually has my checkbook!) He has often told me that I only need to ask, and whatever I need is available. I am pretty sure he knows that the reverse is true . . . it is reciprocal, but it feels free . . . but the fact that we both nurture the relationship shows that it is really not free. But in truth, no one in the CMA has a better friend.

Some things actually are free. For instance the wireless internet I am using at this moment in the Pittsburgh airport is free . . . or at least it appears to be so. I am not paying a direct charge for it. I may be paying an indirect charge for it through the cost of the ticket or something like that . . . yet some things, are really free. This morning at 6:45 am the sun burst forward in brilliance over the horizon in Butler . . . and the montage of amazing colors that preceded it, the white snow, blood-red horizon, cobalt blue sky were free . . . and glorious. God knows how to paint a landscape.

15 mk's sleeping in the airport

There are places to stay in this world and I have been in most of them at least once. Hotels so bad that I actually wore all my clothes to bed because I was afraid of what slept there last and because of a deep certainty that the sheets had not been wash recently. I have stayed in places where the host and hostess gave up their bed for me, and although that meant that I slept on a wood slat bed (with no mattress or blanket) it meant that they slept on the floor. I have slept where the host insisted I keep the German Shepherd with me, in order to have some extra protection. I have slept in airports with 15 elementary-aged MK’s while their parents were frantically waiting all night at the other end of the trip. The mk’s and I were sleeping in some kind of nursery, so the bed was only long enough for me to have half my body on it at once.

This week while in Butler PA, we have been staying in this historic log cabin in the photo. As you can see, it’s the real deal! But it also has an ultra modern addition built on to the back and so it is the best of both worlds. Often churches will do stuff like this, put the missionary up in the most amazing homes, I guess to be a contrast to where we normally live. And mind you, Brenda and I are enjoying the amenities of this completely, we aren’t fools! Hear me loud and clear! We are enjoying ourselves! We head back the hairy armpit soon enough.




On the other hand, I have realized something while on this trip. The amazing beauty of this home and what that represents does not impress me. (this is new for me) It’s comfortable and luxurious to be sure, but I am a bit disturbed by how much everyone wishes to hear us say it’s awesome. Do you know what I mean? If they were only wishing for me to be properly awed and grateful that I get to stay here, that is one thing. But there is envy and longing attached to most people’s comments about this home and some of the other amazing places we have visited while on this trip. And that is what is disturbing.

It is one more rope tying me to this world, making this my home, rather than eternity. One side of me says, “lighten up Aderholdt!” and I agree that some people can hold such blessings with no possessiveness at all. But the practical side of me says not many of us can. As I wrote in Decor Consciousness last week, our earthly homes have become something with which we are obsessed, and we rationalize this addiction away by framing it in an “investment” context. Possessiveness is not OK, investments (being a good steward) is OK in most people’s mind.

I am not judging anyone, but sometimes it is easier to see some things when you have been away for a long time, and I for one, don’t want to hold on to anything in this world that will take my eyes off of Christ and Him crucified = the Kingdom to which we belong. It’s getting harder and harder to say, “this world is not my home”.

10.9 seconds remaining

Tension, suspense, anticipation, expectation and anxiety are the elements of excitement and this is the stuff that makes life, well . . . lively. There is far too little of these elements in our churches today. As one person said to me recently, church is boring . . . but does that mean God is boring?

It would be great to have the energy of a professional sporting event at church. There are few things the American culture offers that is more exciting than going to a hockey game with a bunch of Christian guys. Except maybe when the tying goal is scored with 10.9 seconds remaining in the game. That is exactly what happened last week! The Capitals were down by a goal and the game was in its last minute . . . we were all standing up and screaming and begging for a tying goal, and we got it with exactly 10.9 seconds left to go in the game. It was total bedlam! If you could have harnessed the energy and excitement in the Verizon center in Washington D.C at that moment . . . it could have powered the entire country I live in for a month!

I had so much fun at that hockey game, words fail me! But a hockey game is not real life. The energy there is selfish and focused on winning and crushing the opponent. Unfortunately many people find that to be their existence . . . an intense competition to win, move ahead, crush others and get more than anyone else. That is a sad truth.

On the other hand there are similarities between the Capital/Lightening hockey game and real life. The one I want to focus on here today is the time factor. The point where a professional sporting event and life intersect most closely is that there is a limited time factor. The intensity of the hockey game in that final minute was palpable. You could have cut the tension with a dull butter knife! The roar of that tension could be heard all the way down into the subway tunnel! I am surprised that you did not hear it!!

We all are running on limited time as well. The Church is also running on limited time! I am running on limited time. Anyone of us could be down to the last minute. Our neighbors and friends could be in their last minute. Time is running out . . . where is the urgency in our lives . . . and where is that tension (excitement) in our church?

Nancy Pelosi and Pelosi Air

You have never seen a political blog written by me, because I am not a political person, nor am I a big believer in the political process. Furthermore, I am not even sure that Christians should be involved in the political quagmire of the modern world. Yet if you are one of the Family that follows political issues and hoopla, then you are probably aware that Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi has demanded that she and her staff and her family and the entire Northern California delegation have access anytime to military aircraft that can fly her to San Fran non-stop on request. This created quite a political quagmire for the first female Speaker of the House. One blogger called it Air Force To Become Pelosi Air (here).

So imagine my surprise when she walked right past me while I was sitting in Ronald Reagan Airport Friday! Ms. Peloski passed within 5 feet of me with some of her staff members, catching a commercial flight out of DCA! Good for her . . . flying with the masses is good for her, as it is good for any public servant. In other countries, the PRESIDENTS fly on regular commercial aircraft. In the Hairy Armpit, I flew at least twice with the former president (before he was killed) Boris Trajkovski to Western Europe.

Now these chance close encounters with powerful people are not all that important. They seem important, because of the power they wield in the modern world, yet the reality is that my prayers to the Living God each day are far more important, as it is clear and obvious, HE is far more powerful than they. Not only that, He is far more accessible than politicians. I once was planning to talk to President Trajkovski, but his 900 gorilla of a bodyguard quelled that clever thought of mine! So even though I was sitting five feet from him for two hours, he could have been on the other side of the planet in terms of my potential to have a conversation.

Thus proximity does not necessarily equal access. Yet, we have the best of both worlds with our Father, access and closeness all at the same time . . . I think I am giving up on politicians and staying with Him, the sure thing.

2822 kbps

This unreal speed is what I enjoyed today. What is so special about this you might ask? Well, it means that you can get twice the work done in half the time or faster! For instance, I have been building a website at my domain which showcases the work and projects that Brenda and I are engaged in and you can see that here.

But I could not have uploaded all of that work so quickly without this blazing internet speed here . . . and that is only working a few hours per day, because of all the people I am meeting and the appointments to speak that I have. So we have been able to shape some Kingdom information points in a time-efficient manner, and that frees me up to do the people gig which is why I am here and frankly is far more important in the long and short run.

But I gotta tell you, it’s going to be hard to go back to Hairy Armpit speeds after experiencing this! Thankfully, our communication lines with God are far faster, instantaneous in fact! Better yet, those communications are far more certain and sure than any in the information age. I turn my attention to heaven, and Father hears. I turn my ear to heaven and Father speaks. There is no internet equivalent anywhere! God is so good to us.

decor consciousness

I was quietly enjoying my sweaty workout. It was early morning in the rec room, and I was the only person in the room, pedaling away . . . when she came in. She took charge of the room. She turned on a tornado strength fan to get the air moving in the room, and she turned on the TV . . . loudly! And she turned it on to a channel that I never knew existed . . . something like Country Living TV or some show like that . . . long story short, it was showcasing home after amazing home.

This is a phenomena of modern America that I have never seen before. Crafts and color coordination out the wazoo! It is the ultimate in self expression. Even pastors have to be conscious of these factors in ministry to American gals . . . if you are not decor conscious then you are nobody!

People are so into the ambiance of their homes, stores, restaurants and churches that from my silly position as a missionary, it is an apparent case of the tag wagging the dog. Production and efficiency has given way to style and personal preferences. I wonder what larger implications this has for the church?

Mind you, I love a good atmosphere as much as the next person, and way more than the average guy:-) This is a great feel-good process and the results are pleasing to the senses. On the other hand, I worry a bit that I am just making the Gospel less painful, less harsh, less bitter, less difficult and most of all just lessening the focus on the Gospel, and instead making it more about me.

So while one side of me wants to be decor conscious and thoughtful about ambiance, the Gospel still initially rips life, before it repairs it and makes it whole. I am not sure decor consciousness is the right vehicle in the modern world to make a stable bridge to the gospel and all the implications of it, but this sure is a pretty room.