The 7th inning stretch

A friend of mine has a son heading to a state little league championship… this got me thinking about my own days around the diamond. Carson, this was written in honor of you. I hope your memories are just as fond.

“Get in some practice swings Doug! You’re up after Bruce.” My dad was the coach of our team. He was a good coach. And I was on a team that needed a good coach. The Rockwell little league was quite an impressive organization. Other teams made plans to ‘draft’ the best of the best, but unlike most of the other teams, my dad had a ‘bring in your huddled masses’ mentality. Our team had the most girls and it had most first time players. These things didn’t bother my dad too much.

I remember our first practice. The previous year was my first in the league and by the end of the year I became fairly good. I even became the alternate on the all-star team. I had improved in the off-season and was ready for the next year.

In my first season, my father was an assistant coach and we went undefeated. Our top player never struck out the entire season. Coach Reese was a great coach and his older daughter was an awesome third baseman. We easily won the league, and pretty much the entire team moved up with the Coach. I was left with the Coach’s two younger children. Coach Reese asked my dad to coach. Reluctantly, he agreed. For the record, my dad was a better coach.

Our first practice was very close to a scene from the Bad News Bears. We had 3 girls on the team and some boys who had never played a minute of ball in their life. I got my two best friends to join the team and they were pretty good: then there was Jeff Welch. Jeff Welch was literally God’s gift to baseball. This kid was that natural ultra-player. I have always been surprised that I haven’t heard his name in the pros.

It is funny when I remember the social dynamic of that first practice. I was armed with my two best friends and my dad was the coach. I knew I was a good hitter. Bruce was also pretty good with the bat and my other friend, Greg, picked up the game quickly. Immediately Jeff and I struck up a friendship: he was an odd looking kid, but he had a great smile. Jeff could throw a ball from third to first with no arc (I was good enough to play Second base). He was spectacular with the bat and he ran like a gazelle. There we were: the group of four and then there was the rest of our team.

After running through some drills, the team situation was clear. We lacked something important: talent. None the less, my dad gathered us together. His words were comforting: “We are going to have a great season: all I want you guys to do it to try to have fun. If we act like a team, we will win like one.”

As we were driving home, I lamented the situation with my dad. “Dad! We won’t win a game with that team.” My dad looked at me and said nothing but he smiled a little. I know he saw the same team I did, but my dad understood something that it took me years and years to grasp: sometimes the destination isn’t as important as the journey.

My dad began building a team. Three weeks later was our first game and we were playing one of the best teams in the league. We were trounced. Apart from 3-4 hitting from me and Jeff (two homers by Jeff, I managed one double), there was nothing to talk about. Still, my dad gathered the team. “It’s okay. You guys played a great game. That team had a lot of players we saw last season. We’ll get better! You wait and see!”… ‘wait and see’ Indeed! I was ready for a long season of being the league whipping post.

We managed to win our second game. Bruce and Greg had back to back homers in the bottom of the 7th to clinch it for us. Again my dad huddled us together: “What a great game! I am so proud of all of you! We all played better this week! You wait and see: we are going to get better!” From my perspective, the statement wasn’t really true. I personally made two errors, that cost us a run, and our outfield missed numerous pop-flies. All I could see was what we lacked.

We lost the next game making us 1 and 2, but my dad still had uplifting things to say. I have to say the losing wasn’t that bad. For me I wanted to prove I was as good as Jeff and being on a team with my two best friends was pretty great. Jeff was the better hitter, runner and fielder, but I had the better batting average.

Our fourth game was against the only undefeated team in the league: the Yankees (Isn’t that ironic). They were stacked at every position, but good fortune shown on us. Their two best players couldn’t make the game. Somehow, we managed to keep the game close. In the top of the 7th Jeff hit a base-clearing double, sending Greg, Bruce and Me home that put us ahead 5-3. We were poised to win the game. The Yankees came back and tied it, but we won in extra innings. My dad gathered us and conveyed his admiration at how we didn’t give up. We were .500 and we had only just begun.

With each game we improved, but our biggest problem was the bottom of our lineup. Our bottom three batters mustered a sub-100 batting average for the season. One of the boys (who’s dad was an assistant coach), batted 000 for the first 4 or 5 games. Still his father would yell “That’s okay Trouper! We’ll get ‘em next time!” Trouper would come into the dugout all smiles. I wasn’t as happy and my dad would give me looks reminding me to remember my good sportsmanship.

Still, with each practice and each game, we got better. By the end of the season we were one game out of first and, as fortune would have it, we were playing the league-leading Tigers. My dad’s strategy was simple: pound people with our first 4 batters, and hold on for the other 5 batters. But the Tigers had our number. We had already played them 3 times and we had lost two of three. Their coach was the most boisterous of men and his assistant was even more zealous. They had no girls, and they all looked a few years older than us.

The game started badly. Each inning the Tigers were scoring a few runs and slowly pulling away from us. By the bottom of the 7th, we were down 7 runs and we were heading to the bottom of our batting order. Our shortstop was on base but now it was time to weather the storm. The Reese siblings were up and two strike-outs later we were down to our last out and still 7 runs down.

Marry Batts was up. When I was 8, Mary was the nicest girl that I had ever met, but she was no baseball player. Still she tried with all her heart, but the pressure was on her and fear showed on her face like foreboding doom. Before her at-bat, my dad called a timeout and gathered the team together.

I can’t remember his exact words, but it was something like this: “This has been the most amazing season I have ever been a part of! I am so proud of all of you. Whether we win this game or not, I wanted you to know how much fun I have had and it has been an honor to coach all of you. Enjoy this moment because life doesn't get any better than this!” He turned to Mary and told her “Mary, when you are up there, please have fun! You try your best, but no matter what, I am very proud of you.”

Mary took a deep breath and headed to the batter’s box. Her first swing was dismal and she had that awkward smile some get when they are frustrated. My dad merely smiled and nodded and clapped his hands a couple of times. The second pitch, Mary was ready for it. She smacked it and the ball fizzled just outside of the shortstop’s reach. My dad jumped up and let the whole team know how happy he was at this hit. Hope was still alive.

We now had runners on first and second, but now it was time for Trouper. Bless his heart, but this young man had literally no baseball skills whatsoever. Everyone on our team knew it... so did everyone on the other team. I believe he was batting 059 for the year (I am not joking). The first pitch came and Trouper made some lame flail at the ball. “That’s okay Trouper! You’ll get it next time!” Trouper’s dad was also the first-base coach.

Then IT happened. ‘It’ you say? Yes IT! With two strikes, young Trouper managed to make random contact with the ball. Normally when a ball is hit, fielders know where it is going. Trouper's hit was this crazy spinning ball that sputtered somewhere between the pitcher and third base. “RUN TROUPER RUN!” the whole team was off the bench. Trouper had actually hit the ball so few times that he just kind of stood there watching it. Finally he realized he wasn’t done and he headed toward first. In the mad scramble between the pitcher and the third baseman, Trouper managed to make it just in time to first base.

I remember turning to Bruce and yelling ‘We’re gonna win!’ We were at the top of our order and we were on fire. Greg knocked in two runners, and Bruce brought in Trouper. I brought in Bruce and Greg and Jeff hit a nice homer to tie the game. According to my dad, the Tiger coach conceded the game even though we were only tied. No preplanned movie plot could have captured this moment any better.

We ended up co-champions of the Rockwell League (The Tiger coach refused to play us in a tie-breaker). But everyone on our team knew we were the champions. At the awards banquet, Mary Batts came up to my father and said “Thank you Mr. Joseph. This was the best time of my entire life.” For my father, he recounted that this was one of the greatest moment of his entire life: it was worth it for this comment alone.

We moved that fall to Florida and I never played baseball again. Still what a memory! And what a testament to a coach who believed in what no one else could see.

Time After Time

Time flies when it wants to. It seems like only yesterday when I was picking apples out of the front yard for my mom to make pies and yet now I have daughters who are as old as I was when I did this. By contrast, I can remember watching the clock in third grade and praying for a loving, kind and merciful God to move it ahead a few hours so that my daily prison sentence would be over. It was as if the clock was stuck in molasses. We are neither the keepers of time, nor are we the makers of it.

Each second is amazingly unique. In each day there are over 86,000 of them and a year possesses over 30 million. My grandmother died earlier this year and in her life she experienced over 3 billion seconds. Every one of them had some input into defining what she was.

From the seconds when she was first introduced to my grandfather to the holding of one of her many great-grandchildren, time faithfully marched on. What made my grandmother most unique and wonderful, was her ability to ‘make time’ for her family. Without fail, every year, my grandma would call me to wish me a happy birthday. She would meticulously clip articles from the Columbus Dispatch about the new freshmen prospects for the Buckeyes and send them to me (usually with mint-chocolate-ship cookies).

She would send me letters expressing how much she loved me and missed me… How proud of the man that I was becoming. In my life I have been blessed to meet many people of prominence and influence and none could compare with my grandma: she was one of the greatest people I have ever known. Until marriage, no one made me feel better than my grandma.

My grandma knew a lot about me, but she never witnessed me at my worst. She never got to see the ugly, unsavory side of her eldest grandson. She loved me and she was on my side, and even seeing these things, I am certain she still would have loved me, but her belief in me would have been shaken.

There is someone who knows every second of every life on this planet. He knows what we have done and what we haven’t. He leaped for joy in our triumphs and he mourned with the passing of our loved ones. He marveled with us at spectacular sunsets and riding impossible roller coasters. He wept as we walked away from righteous paths and rejected the truths shared to us.

Even knowing all of this HE STILL LOVES US! He yearns for fellowship with us and can’t wait to pick us up. The maker of time can’t wait for us to ‘make time’ to be with Him: He wants to be with us! He wants the best for us. He clears his schedule to make time for us. He is not bound by time, yet he constrains himself to ‘fit’ into that faithfully marching target.

God comes to us and opens the secrets of the universe: it is literally ours for the asking. He wants us to be with Him and He yearns to share His heart with us.

Got a second? Sit down and share some time with God! You won’t regret it!

God Bless
Doug

I'm Not Normal

I'm not normal. I don't pretend to be, nor do I think that it is something I should desire. I am defective, imperfect, fragile, and… well… odd. If you looked at me on any given day, you might not notice it at first. I look like any other large oaf-like guy that you might run into. I might laugh, or share a quick joke. I might even share an experience much like one of your own. But make no mistake, the chinks in my armor are obvious and in the end, a schism exists between me and what is perceived as normal.

As I type this, I don't like admitting it, but it is true. Reflectively I can see how much easier it would be to be 'normal', yet that is not the path God has for my life. My likes and dislikes aren't 'the norm'. My passions and pursuits are not what many consider rational. Here I am pursuing a God of unending love, yet I fall so short in following his simplest of commandments.

Abnormality is a moniker for 'different'. What worries me a lot right now is that when I am at my church on any given Sunday, am I normal? Am I like everyone else around me? If I am, then isn't there something painfully wrong? When Christ walked the earth, His goal wasn't to bring the people to the Temple: He intended to bring the God of the Temple to the people. If we are truly following Him, then shouldn't our church be filled with both those who have fellowship with Him, AND those who are 'curious'? The pews should be a random collection of the normal and the abnormal.

Jesus tore the Temple Vail in two, He vanquished religiosity, and brought the realization that God was always tangible and in love with His creation. He was radical, magical, and far from normal. His words were electric, and His message wasn't for the normal. It was for the Tax collectors, prostitutes, orphans, widows, widowers, bikers, homosexuals, brides to be, bakers, engineers, even the lawyers and politicians. God extended His hand to liberate the masses with a reckless and compassionate love that only God possesses. I want to share His love with those who haven't experienced it. That means that I might have many un-church-like church goers in my church. PRAISE GOD! Let God's love abnormal-ize them too! There is plenty of room at God's abundant table.

As I look around my church I see like-minded people surrounding me. To them I am normal (well that may be pushing it a little, but you get my drift). I want a passion for God's people that makes me abnormal to those around me. Jesus said that a little leaven spoils the whole loaf. In His parable, he was using this as a negative. It can also be used positively. I want to be leaven to a dying world. I want to be a catalyst that spoils Satan's loaf. To do that, I can't just sit with the rest of the yeast: I must allow God to put me in the bread to create a reaction with the unleavened surroundings.

I must embrace abnormality, in the form of persecution, ruffling feathers, loving the unloved, helping without ulterior motives, moving away from my comfortable circles for the cause of Christ: The happy fool following by faith fearlessly. Lord, help me to be Your type of abnormal. Want to come with me?

God Bless
Doug

Potential Knows No Boundaries

Well, I'm not really back: getting back into the posting has been hard when you are working around the clock.

This was written by my wife for a book titled "Children Have Strokes Too!". It is a collection of stories of children who have the challenge of CP in their lives.

My wife really captures a lot in this and the words still touch my heart. I am positing it so others can have hope, as we have, in our loving and caring Father.

God Bless
Doug

~ ===== ~

Potential Knows No Boundaries

Many verses in the Bible I have read and re-read; they became too familiar and in fact, overlooked even as they are read. Then one day my circumstances change, I read the verse and realize the enormity of it--and the fact that it was written a couple of thousand years ago, just for me on this day.

The day in question happened to be December 14, 2006. In October of that year, my then 13 month old daughter Elizabeth, had fallen and hit her head on the tile floor. We went to the ER, had a CAT scan which showed no acute injury. It did show a vaguely explained abnormality in her brain, particularly on the right side. Off to her pediatrician we went; then to the hospital for an MRI. I was fine through all of this. I knew my daughter and there was nothing wrong with her.

One day, mixed in with bills and junk mail arrived a radiology report. As I read scary words like “white matter deficiency,” “corpus callosum thinned but present,” “cystic encephalomalacia” and more, I became afraid for Elizabeth’s future.

Over the next several weeks, my husband and I noticed she walked consistently leading with her right leg and that she held her left arm bent tightly at the elbow. At her 15 month check-up I asked her pediatrician to watch her move. Two days later, on December 14th, we sat in an exam room with our ears on fire as we caught the words coming from a neurologist’s mouth. Elizabeth/cerebral palsy. In utero stroke. Abnormal. Disability. Cerebral palsy/Elizabeth. Laboring under the weight of a stack of referrals we left the neurologist. We were too stunned to ask questions beyond “What does this mean?” On the drive home we tried to look past ourselves and realize that on this same day other parents might be receiving the more devastating news of brain tumors, cancer or other life threatening illnesses.

True comfort did not come until later that day when I read in Jeremiah 1:4-5 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” The Lord knew her before He formed her! In other words: before she suffered lack of oxygen to her brain. He set her apart, knowing what was going to happen. And the best part, He has plans for her future!

We went to specialist after specialist. We tested the patience of our sweet older daughter, Emily, taking her to every appointment. Elizabeth was evaluated, tested and approved for OT, PT and Early Intervention. During the evaluation phase, she tested at a 9 month old level in verbal skills (she was now 17 months old.) That apparently did not qualify her for speech therapy. We were outraged by the injustice! We went home ready to research any other options available to her for speech therapy. I went back to Jeremiah to read those verses again, seeking solace in His Word. And I found what I was looking for. I read a little further this time. In verse 6 Jeremiah says “Ah Sovereign Lord, I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.” Of course, at this point I had to dry my tears to continue. After a call for obedience, verse 9 goes on to say “Then the Lord reached out His hand and touched my mouth and said to me, ‘Now I have put my words in your mouth…’” We decided not to pursue speech therapy on our own.

Our daughter’s potential truly knows no bounds. Her neurologist looked at a second, higher resolution MRI and told us if she had seen the scan before she met Elizabeth, her best guess would be that the child was wheel chair bound, non-verbal and unable to use her arm. Misty-eyed, she followed with “So what do I know?!”

There is more drama to her story; it includes seizures, a stay in the hospital, eye glasses and a denial of services. Elizabeth’s 3rd birthday has come and gone. She takes ballet classes, knows her colors and ABC’s and she loves to sing. And, at her last evaluation, her verbal skills were at the 5 1/2 year old level.

By Laura Joseph

Blogger Sabatical

Hello all,

It saddens me greatly to write this post. In light of a few incidences in my life, I am taking an extended blogger sabatical. My prioroties have been out of kilter and I need to get them right before I can write anything of substance on here.

Thank you for all of your support over these past months and I want it known that I love all of you very much. This choice was painfully made because I love writing on here, but unless things are right at the homefront anything I could write on here would be hollow to me. I know that God would have me do this too.

Please pray for me and my family as we try to grab a little perspective in our life.

God Bless
Doug

Knowing Gifts

This isn't my typical post but, like Milly, I write fiction from time to time and these were the two scriptures that sparked me to write this below. I was preparing to speek at our couples group on giving and thought that this story summed up a lot of things:

Luke 9:28-36 (NIV)

28 About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray.
29 As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning.
30 Two men, Moses and Elijah,
31 appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem.
32 Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him.
33 As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, "Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah." (He did not know what he was saying.)
34 While he was speaking, a cloud appeared and enveloped them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud.
35 A voice came from the cloud, saying, "This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him."
36 When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone. The disciples kept this to themselves, and told no one at that time what they had seen.


Genesis 4:2-5 (NIV)

2 Now Abel kept flocks, and Cain worked the soil.
3 In the course of time Cain brought some of the fruits of the soil as an offering to the LORD.
4 But Abel brought fat portions from some of the firstborn of his flock. The LORD looked with favor on Abel and his offering,
5 but on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor. So Cain was very angry, and his face was downcast.

o-=-=-=-o

A young boy wanted to surprise his mother for mother’s day. So he picked up his piggy-bank, counted the money and he went to a little general store about a block from their house. After looking up and down the aisles of that store, the little boy finally found the perfect gift for her. It was a gift that was something that he had personally eyed many times and he was certain that his mother would love it too. As the old man behind the counter peered over to see the young customer he began to scowl: “You're not buying that are you?”

“I am sir”, Tommy took a deep breath and gleamed with pride.

“Well what are you going to do with it?”

“It’s for my mom!” Tommy thought it was an odd question and the clerk's facial gesture was equally perplexing.

“Oh…. Very well then. That will be $8.73 cents.”

Tommy looked down at his hard earned allowance money. He knew that this would pretty much wipe him out financially. He then thought about all of the great things his mom had done for him and how surprised she was going to be. That zeal carried him to make the purchase, as well as a candy bar for the trip home.

The clerk carefully bagged the gift and gave Tommy a once-over glance. “Make sure that she gets this!” His look was pretty intense. Enough for Tommy to stutter and look away when he replied.

“You bet sir! I know she will love it.”

He couldn’t wait to get home and wrap the present. His bike wouldn't go fast enough. He arrived home to see that his mom was gone and only his dad was in the house. Blasting through the front door, Tommy made his way up to his bedroom. He stopped by the craft room to get scissors, tape, and paper.

His dad heard the ruckus, and walked over to Tommy’s room: ‘What’s the noise about?’

“Oh hey dad! I just went up to the store and got mom her Mother’s day gift.”

“Oh! That’s great son. What did you get her!”

Tommy hesitated, he knew that his dad couldn't keep a secret from his mom so he chimed up: “Well… I can’t tell you that or it wouldn’t be a surprise! Besides, I can’t wait for mom to open this! She is going to love it!”

“Umm, yes that's true son. Well?! Carry on! I’ll leave you to your wrapping!”

Tommy had never wrapped a gift before and it turns out that it was quite a challenge. After laboring for over two hours , he finally got the paper ‘just right’: a gift made primarily of crumpled and ripped paper and a lot of tape. Tommy was proud of his first try and the gift was completely wrapped.

He also made a card and drew some great pictures of him and her on it. It was corny, but his mom liked that sort of thing.

Tommy's father was so proud of his boy that in bed that night, he shared the ‘surprise’ with his wife. She too was tickled at what a loving thoughtful boy they had raised.

Mother’s day finally came and it was off to church but all Tommy could think about was giving his mother that gift. He and his dad woke up early that morning and made her a breakfast fit for a queen. Apart from burning the toast 2 times, it was a pretty good meal for a couple of fumbling guys. The family agreed to open gifts after church because they were running so late. The mess in the kitchen would also have to wait until after church.

As they exited church, after a surprisingly long service, Tommy ran to their mini-van and hopped in the back. He was so anxious to get home and have her open the gift. I can’t wait to see her face she is going to be SO happy! His parent proudly gazed at each other: it was that look of acknowledging what a winner of a kid that they were blessed with.

The church was only 3 miles from their house so it was a very short ride. Everybody unloaded from the van and headed for the house. Tommy waited at the door for his father to open it, while mom and dad got the stroller and unpacked the twins from their safety seats. Finally, they moved inside and headed right to the family room for mom to open gifts. Both mom and dad were brimming with pride for their boy.

Dad offered his pocket knife to help cut through the layers of tape on the gift. It was like a mummy made of celephane. Make no mistake, Tommy's mom was indeed surprised as she tore away the carefully wrapped paper to reveal the ‘treasure’ that lurked inside: a Tom Sawyer handcrafted wrist rocket / slingshot. Tommy knew that his mother would love it because who wouldn’t?

To this day, the slingshot sits on the mantle above the fireplace. A gentle reminder that beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.

o-=-=-=-o

If you have a close friend, spouse, or sibling and you made a list of three material things that they wanted, and you had them list three material things that they wanted. How close would those lists actually be?

If our desire is to give them the things that they want, we need to get a good grasp on the person: who they are, how they tick, their likes and dislikes. Knowing this can information, we can give them what they TRULY want, not what we think that they want.

How can we find out what their needs our?

Communication: Talk about goals, aspiration, likes and dislikes, and projects.

Observation: Watch what they do and like. Learn their MO so to speak

Spend Time: By spending time we get more into their thought processes

Feedback: Learn from mistakes.

Take Yourself Out: Think of them, not of what you will get or what you like… don’t buy them the gift you always wanted

Prayer: Seek God individually to assure that you are on the right track.

Take It Easy: Knowing their needs will save you time and frustration

By giving things that we think that they want rather than what hey really want, aren't we sending a message to them: that they are possibly just items on the checklist? Going through the trouble of truly figuring out what the REALLY want takes time and effort, but it does pay great dividends. First off, it actually makes the act of giving easier. Many times the perfect gift, or offering is much easier to obtain than throwing time, money, and other resources at the problem, especially at the last minute.

Now apply this to your walk with the Lord: what do we lay at the altar before God that we think He wants? I'm reminded of the scripture that says 'But we did these things in your name', and God replies 'Depart from me you workers of iniquity! I never knew you!'. That scripture is haunting to me: it's a warning that we need to know God, and in doing so, we will be able to 'give' Him what is good and appropriate.

Like Tommy though, nothing compares with a giving heart. You see, Tommy wanted to give his mom the very best of gifts. I know that is my heart too

God Bless
Doug

All In A Day

Waking up in the dark was never pleasant to me. That annoying alarm would chime, waking me from a battle with aliens from another galaxy: they would have to wait for another night to resolve our conflict. My mom placed the clock on the other side of my room, so I would have to get out from my warm cocoon and traverse the cold, perilous, toy-laden walkway from my bed to the dresser to shut it off. School beckoned and the day was already clamoring for my appearance.

Stumbling around, I would find the light. Wow! That was bright! My day began. Clothes were easy to find. My mom provided a nice batch of them for me to put in my drawers every couple of days. Not much in the way of choices here: a white shirt, black pants, and a clip-on tie. Yep, the joys of a school uniform made for little in the way of a fashion conundrum, but the socks, you could make quite a statement with your socks! I had a pair of Ohio State dress socks. On one side was Brutus, (our Buckeye mascot), on the other, a scarlet helmet. These socks were cool and they were my favorite.

I made my way out of my room down to the kitchen: one side of my shirt still untucked, and my clip-on tie hanging in the throws because the top button of my shirt was also unbuttoned. I walked by the mirror and saw my hair. My goodness was it spooky. I looked like Wolverine, from the X-Men Comics. I thought it was great, but I knew what my mom and the nuns would say. Quickly, I made a pit-stop at the bathroom, and doused my glorious crown with some water.

On to breakfast! The cereal de jour? Peanut Butter-Cap’n Crunch of course! The greatest cereal ever made. I had my Speed-racer bowl, a spoon, and I would take the whole gallon of milk and lug it to the table. I had to make sure there was plenty of milk in the bowl for me to drink at the end of my cereal feast!

About this time, my mom would make her appearance with a brush and some bows for my sister. I was so thankful that I didn’t have long hair. Watching my mom work the knots out of her hair was painful, and I wasn’t the one who was getting it! I got spanked way more than Trish, but my sister was punished every morning. At some point my mom would look over at me and insist that I come over for a second and let her ‘fix’ my hair. I would resistively comply.

It was time to head to the bus stop. In the middle of winter, we weren’t allowed to hang out at the stop for too long. In fact, because the bus made a loop around our neighborhood, my mom would wait until she saw it before releasing us to go there. These last five minutes were always a panic in our house. ‘Have you got your lunch? Homework? Is there anything that I need to sign? Have you thought about confession?’ The normal pre-bus grilling went by without a hitch. It was on to school. Just a normal day, in the life of… well… me!

The bus ride to school was the first sign of real problems. My friend Charles asked me how I did on the math homework. ‘What math homework?’ Uh oh! I totally forgot that it was due! Quickly I scrounged in my book bag for some paper. ‘Charles, I need to look at yours!’, with hesitance he shows me his, but I couldn’t do it. If we get caught we both would get in trouble. I hand it back, and just ask to borrow his math book. I’m writing like a madman, fortunately math was easy for me. I got them done just as the bus is pulling into the parking lot. ‘Thanks Chaz for the book.’ Charles smiled, and I think he breathed a sigh that I did it without copying his. Truthfully though, part of the reason I didn’t copy his was that he wasn’t very good at math: I was no saint.

Whew! One bullet dodged. What else was heading my way? Homework! Homework! Homework! Every class, the teacher was piling more of this stuff on to our plate. Doesn’t she want us to have a life? This is going to take all afternoon! At least it was lunch and recess time! My friend Mike would trade lunch parts with me. We both would get in line and get our chocolate milk and divvy up our lunch booty. We had to hurry if we were going to make it to the ‘games’. We scarfed down our food like a pack of rabid dogs and headed for the front parking lot.

At St. Matthew’s, we had a parking lot as a play ground. On most days, there was four-square, tetherball, and a game of asphalt-soccer. On icy-days, we’d play a game of ‘ice-running’. Now this was not like hockey with skates: it was running around in our dress-shoes trying not to break our necks. Mike and I loved playing. He, and his brother Sam, had great balance. I, on the other hand, was a bit less… umm… ‘coordinated’, but it never stopped me from trying. This year, playing on the ice was particularly interesting because it was during the winter Olympics in Innsbruck, Austria.

Many of us would go home after school and watch Americans like Peter Meuler’s race for our country. I think he ended up with one or two medals, but I know he struck gold once. It inspired us to go run around the ice even more. So Mike and I made our way into the running ranks. We’d use book bags to mark the corners of the ‘track’, and someone would act as the ‘officiator’ of the games. It was my turn and I was in a good heat. The pack I was running with weren’t the strongest. I figured I could take them all and make it to the next heat. Sure enough, my heart started pounding faster as the ‘official’ said ‘on your mark’. By the time he said ‘Go!’ my heart was ready to burst. A spastic flow of energy disseminated though my body: every muscle came to life in awkward beauty.

The trick in ice running was maintaining control around the corners. There were many ways to do this. Mike and Sam could do the corners with ease: their coordination allowed them to walk the line between balance and speed. I relied on my motivation. I made it through the first two corners without issue and was well ahead of the pack on the back-straight when my trouble arose. It seems that a car must have spun its wheels on the ice leaving a nearly invisible layer of sand on it. What was invisible to the eye was quite apparent to the feet. As I sloshed through the ice, all of the sudden my shoes acquired traction and it sent me flying through the air.

It is funny how time slows in moments of panic like this. I was in the air long enough to know that when I hit, it was going to hurt: I was not left disappointed. On a non-icy surface your hands will break the fall, though they may get a little scuffed in the process, it is better than hitting your noggin. On ice, you can put your hands out ahead of you, but as you hit, they will just slide out of the way, allowing for a pretty solid hit on your face. In my case, my chin took the brunt of the blow. Pain rocked my rather puny little body. I was a little dazed too.

As I regained my senses, I noticed a large crowd had gathered around me. Some looked at me like I was one of those science exhibits from COSI, others looked like they were watching a horror movie. Mike was the first through the crowd to come down and actually try to help me. It was then that I looked down and saw the problem. My shirt was drenched in blood, and my chin was hurting pretty badly. I remained pretty calm, but inside I wanted to cry, eventually the cry in me won and I literally screamed in pain. Mike did his best to comfort me as someone else ran and got one of the priests.

Father Smith quickly scurried out there, and before long, I was moved into the nurse’s office where I was given a blanket, hot chocolate, and told that my parents would be there shortly. Everybody was great to me. The principal, a lady whom I was re-introduced to every so often, was particularly nice. I finally made my way to an emergency room, where this unwilling patient was sewn back together. I believe it was fifteen stitches in my chin which required my dad to hold me still for the entire ‘operation’.

When I woke up that morning I had no idea what was in store for me on that day. Life’s many curves left me unprepared for the events that took place. God shares this with us too:

Luke 12:16-20 (NKJV)

16 Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. 17 And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ 18 Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19 And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ 20 But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?

There are many lessons here but two primarily stick out. The first is to store up treasures where they will matter. The second one is that we cannot ‘see’ the future. As we prepare for our day, we are not guaranteed it. Rich Mullins wrote a song once called ‘Live Right’:

Live like you’ll die tomorrow
Die knowing you’ll live forever… Live right!

Each day matters and the course of that day, even when we walk hand in hand with God, is not certain: our destination may be, but the path is still up in the air to us.

As my wife and I have walked though these past few weeks with the challenges of our youngest daughter, we are reminded of how precious life is and how we need to embrace each day, knowing that God is in charge. Our mundane tasks are merely stepping stones along this journey. Each moment should be seized, not just accepted: to the Glory and Honor of our God and Creator. God has poured His life into us, let us revel in its wonder!

In my older days, I still cringe on ice thinking of those spills, but that little slip didn’t phase me: I even bumped my chin a few more times, and up to that point of pain, it was still very fun. I want to greet each day with that kind of zeal!

God Bless
Doug

A bad week

Hello all,

I am betting that a few of you have noticed that I haven’t been on any blogs recently. We have had a very bad week in our house, and would love your prayers.

Let me start a while back. A few months ago, when our youngest was learning to walk, she had a hard fall, so we took her to the emergency room.

Though she seemed fine, they thought it would be a good idea to perform a CT-scan on her. They found that there was no damage from the fall, but that her ventricles were asymmetric (these are two regions in the brain where blood flows). Essentially, we had no idea what they were talking about, but they recommended that we follow up with our pediatrician. The pediatrician took a look at her and thought that it would be a good idea to have an MRI done on her.

I can tell you that to do an MRI on a 13-month old child, they need to knock her out. It was a low point to watch them put the oxygen mask on your little girl and cart her off. My heart was very low that day.

The MRI returned and we found out some news that caused our spirits to drop a little: our little girl had a stroke during the pregnancy. They didn’t show me the MRI, but the doctor said that she seemed to be fine, so there was no need to worry too much about it: after all, she was walking and was ahead of the normal timetable on most of her developmental elements.

Over the next couple of months, we noticed that she favored her right side significantly over her left, so at her 15-month checkup we pointed this out to our pediatrician. She told us that she wouldn’t have noticed if we hadn’t pointed it out, but now that we did, that it would be a good idea for us to see a neurologist to have a closer look at her.

Last Thursday, we went and the neurologist diagnosed our little angel with mild Cerebral Palsy. For the first time, I saw the MRI and the extent of the damage from the stroke. It was extensive. Fortunately for us, it was limited to the white matter of the brain, not the grey matter, so no cognitive facilities were affected. The neurologist was wonderful about explaining all of this to us, and assured us that occupational therapy should handle almost all of the issues she has. We were very fortunate that it wasn’t worse, but for safety we have to now schedule a visit with a Neural Surgeon to have her ventricles looked at; we had to bring her in for an EEG (which turned out great by the way). And we are having a MRE done in a couple of months.

Still to hear someone say that your little girl is not ‘perfect’ is so hard. God is so wonderful though: through this he has prepared my wife an I for this. We have had the support of family, friends and our church.

This past Sunday, I was at church for my older daughter’s musical, I was feeling a little sick, but felt well enough to get through the program. By the end of the night, my abdomen was hurting so much that I was buckled over in pain. We went home, and I tried to rest for a few hours, but the pain worsened. It was on to the Emergency room for me!

I have had kidney stones before so I thought maybe this was another stone-attack. I was so confident that this is what it was that I told my wife to stay at home I drove myself to the hospital. It turned out that it was my appendix and I had to have an appendectomy. I was made comfortable with pain killers and awaited surgery.

Again, our family, church, friends, and coworkers were wonderful, I felt bad for the guy in the room with me because of the steady stream of pastors, friends, and family that visited during this time. We are so blessed to have people like this around us.

Two days later, I am home now, I am week, sore and pretty much just lounging around. My forced vacation will pretty much keep me hanging around the house for the most part for next couple of weeks. If you think of it, lift up a prayer for our house. This is quite an additional load during the holidays.

In the new year I will be back in swing, but for now I am going to crawl back into bed and get some more rest.

God Bless
Doug

When Analogies Go Bad

Okay WOMD friends, I don't normally do this, but anyone who has been forced to write a silly paper (like in Highschool) should enjoy this link greatly.

Top-25 Bad Analogies

I hope you enjoy them as much as I did. Number 3 was my favorite, though almost all of them were pretty great. What was your favorite?

God Bless
Doug

Home For Dinner

The back of my neck was dripping with perspiration, but the rest of me was quite chilly. It was 5:30pm on a cold Friday night in the middle of a suburb of Columbus, Ohio, and dinner waited for me at home. The sun had already gone down and I was hunkering down for the journey. Walking home from Bruce’s house was a bit of a haul in the middle of winter, but I really didn’t mind it that much.

With a fresh coat of snow on the ground, and that ever pleasant ‘crunch crunch crunch’ of my boots breaking the top layer, I reveled in each step. I don’t exactly understand why this is, but snow seems to damp out ambient sound. Not even the dogs around the neighborhood ventured out on cold nights like this. I could hear cars ‘woosh’ from a distant highway, but it seemed that all other life faded quietly away: it was just me, the occasional auto, and my trekking boots.

The smell of freshly burning timber also permeated the walk home. I loved that smell as well as taking in the deep breaths of that really cold air. I was alone to think about my coming weekend and dream about the arrival of Christmas. Wow was this nice!

In Ohio, really cold wasn’t when it was overcast. Really cold was when the sky was crystal clear. In the night, you could see every star. I would look up mesmerized by the menagerie of little lights. I will fly to them some day, I pondered boldly to myself.

Our house sat squarely on the corner of Cherry Bottom Road and Nob Hill. It was the first house on the street and it was a grand house that my father designed and built. He crafted the house, but my mom made it a home. I could always see it for a few blocks before actually getting to it. Reflectively, I love it as much now as I did then. The white brick and black roof were beautiful against the snow-filled fields behind them.

I’d walk up the driveway past the piles of snow that my dad and I had shoveled, to our front door. My walk was over, and I was really ready for it to be. By the end of the journey, my nose was running, my feet were a little numb and soggy and my ears as well the tip of my nose hurt a tad from the cold. Shivering and weariness replaced the great joy that I had at the start of this trip.

The front porch light flips on as the front door swiftly swings open… hmmm… this can’t be good. “Where were you young man?” My loving mother asked with a look of concern that told me all I needed to know. Think Doug think!

“I was at Bruce’s but I got here as soon as I could mom!” Kind of true, but I certainly could have played a few less games of Stratego, Monopoly, Tripoli, or whatever Bruce and my game de jour was.

“I was worried sick about you! I was just about to grab Trish and get in the car and start looking for you”.

“Sorry mom, but it really was a beautiful night!” My best smile came forward. My cheeks ached a little, but I had to maintain it. I wasn’t lying here: the night was wonderful. Now for my mom’s moment of truth: Spanking / Grounding / or the loving stern look. Smile Doug, just keep smiling.

“No matter! Come on in, and get warm”. Stern look with hugs! YES! My mom rocked. After the virtual eternity of unshedding from all of the winter layers, it was time to move into the welcoming abode.

Our home was lit for Christmas, and there was the inviting smell of something wonderfully cooked coming from the kitchen. I couldn’t wait to get some of whatever that was. The rich smells of freshly cooked chicken, buttery rolls, cinnamon, chocolate, and other spices had hypnotized me.

My dad wasn’t home yet, but I knew he’d be soon. “Doug, can you help set the table, please?” Mom was in the kitchen, busy concocting something as brilliant as any blueprint to a maniacal contraption. She was a cook among cooks.

“You got it mom!” My sister and I carefully set each place. All the time my nose would catch whiffs of what was to come. Dinner was so close now and my stomach let me know.

I heard the garage door opening and I knew my dad was on his way in. My sister charged to the back door where he was going to come in. She beat me, as she usually did, and we waited for him to enter. With his entry into the household, dinner wasn’t far behind! “Hey Daddy!” Great! He’s home! Let’s eat to celebrate! With a smattering of hugs and kisses, we would go to pray and eat at the table. Love and joy surrounded us in this place.

Our journey through life will take us to some wonderful places, but like walking home on a cold winter night, we are not designed to stay out here indefinitely. As we ‘walk on’, our final home may very well be in our sights, but we are still not there yet. Through prayer, praise and worship, we may rest a spell, in the arms of our loving father, but we still must leave this warm cozy place and sojourn on, completing the walk.

Have you ever entered into worship and were swept a million miles away? Or were in a service praising with hundred of others, yet in your mind, you were the only one there? It is in these times of heartfelt worship that we can embrace the goodness of God and come before His throne. As much as God loves us, and we love being there with Him, He still knows our purpose on earth, and we, in human form, were also not designed to reside with him indefinitely. He will lovingly lead us back into the fray of reality, with the promise that it won’t be too much longer: keep up the pace! Soon we will be of a form that can reside with Him forever.

I can’t wait for the day those doors swing open and our heavenly father will tell me “I’ve been waiting for you, young man!” With a smattering of hugs and kisses, we will go to praise and eat at His table, while love and joy surrounds us all in His place.

God Bless
Doug

The Endless Parade

The end of September was when it all began for me as a child. Entrenched in the middle of reading, multiplication tables, and state capitals, there was really only one thing constantly on my mind: the next few months would be a parade of holidays (and not so holy-days) and the opening ceremony was my birthday.

September 22nd, was the launch date for what would fuel the next few months of fall. Each 'event' would keep me for the next couple of weeks until the next big event occured. It was a simple and wonderful progression: Birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. As the adrenaline rush was fading from one event, the anticipation of the next would take over.

My sister, who's birthday fell on the week before Thanksgiving, didn't have that nice even spacing. Yep, I had it good, and I knew it. My mom, who was the middle child of a large family, made sure our Birthdays were pretty awesome. I believe this was the result of her own birthday being no big deal in her childhood. Both my and my sister's birthdays were not just days but events.

I had no idea what an ordeal this was until I had my own kids. Now I am ever thankful for my mom's efforts towards my great memories. We try to do the same for our girls.

Sometimes I think that my Christianity is the same way as this chain of holidays. It seems as if I am merely clinging on until the next 'filling': from the words of a sermon, or, a great praise song. They hold me for the next few days and then I look forward to the next filling. There is something inately wrong in this:

John 4:11-14 (New King James Version)

11 The woman said to Him, “Sir, You have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep. Where then do You get that living water?

12 Are You greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well, and drank from it himself, as well as his sons and his livestock?”

13 Jesus answered and said to her, “Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again,

14 but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.”

Doesn't this imply our life in Christ will be ever abundant: full of zest and zeal? Our walk with God is ever-changing but God is ever-stable and His Word, as well as God Himself are available to us every our, every minute, of every day. Yet, sometime I wait for someone else to feed it to me. What is wrong with me?

It is great that I find such release in hearing about Him, or laboring for His causes, but the problem here is what will happen when people aren't able to 'feed' me or when events aren't 'fullfilling'. What will sustain me in those times of dryness that we all experience? I would love to believe it is the word that dwells in me, but I would rather know that this is the case.

My wife and I are in a busy season of our life, and things like prayer, and reading His word, and praising, are things that sometimes must be forced into our schedule, but God is still faithful. I am thankful for his fidelity, love and support. Even when I am not looking, He always is. I feel like He has put so many things in my life to remind me that He is watching out for me, and that he is merely a prayer away.

In this time of holiday madness, please think to take time and thank the creator of the universe, for taking time out to make life special, unique, and wonderful. In doing so, drink from His rich and ever-flowing cup and be quenched.

God Bless
Doug

Evangelism: (Part V: The final chapter... for now)

Never Alone

Elijah’s journey takes an interesting turn in I Kings 19. In an amazing reversal of fortune, we find our brave prophet running for his life from Jezebel. Isn’t this the man who just one chapter earlier brought down fire from the heavens and sat with kings and delivered God’s words? Surely he can’t be afraid!?

God knew his heart and saw what was going on. Elijah was fed and led by an angel to a cave awaiting the presence of God to pass by him (not to pass him by). God allowed fires and earthquakes to occur, yet His presence wasn’t in these things. Then a gentle whispering breeze passed by and there, standing before Elijah, was the very presence of God.

In this moment Elijah suddenly develops a backbone:

1 Kings 19:14

14 He replied, "I have been very zealous for the LORD God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, broken down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too."

Isn’t it ironic that Elijah would fear the woman Jezebel yet fearlessly proclaims to the Lord that he felt alone, scared, even abandoned? With the sovereignty that only He possesses, God replies:

1 Kings 19:17,18

17 Jehu will put to death any who escape the sword of Hazael, and Elisha will put to death any who escape the sword of Jehu. 18 Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel—all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and all whose mouths have not kissed him."

Weariness tempered with frustration can bring us to some very low moments in our walk: but God is ever lovingly present. When I was in Israel, the job I was working on was a total nightmare. I was pushing 100 hour weeks for months on end, and in spite of this, the project was getting worse, not better. At the homefront, my wife and I had taken in one of her 16 year old cousins who was a bit of a challenge. I would call home to hear the frustration in my wife’s voice and would pine to be home to help. All the while, my two year-old was maturing with each conversation we had on the phone: I was missing all of it and here I am sitting in the land of “Milk and Honey!” These were truly trying times.

It was through this that I could understand best Elijah’s pleading with God, “am I alone, betrayed or abandoned?” This same message was sent by John the Baptist to Jesus. Sitting in a prison, with death looming, he sent a follower to ask Jesus if He indeed was the Christ. Jesus knew that wasn’t John’s real question: he wanted to know if he was following truth or a sham; if the labor of his hands was with purpose; and was he alone? Jesus’ reply was swift and he lovingly told John's apprentice to tell John what he had observed: the proof was in what He did, not what anyone said about him. With this knowledge, I believe that John faced death with the bravery that Stephan showed in the book of Acts.

As I took inventory of the life I was living in Israel, it struck me one day: what was my purpose? Was it to make an amusement ride? I prayed to God: “I am alone in Your chosen land?” I pleaded with Him: “I have let you lead my steps, and I am not feeling the love right now! Please help me because I am falling.” God’s answer was lovingly and swiftly quickened to my heart and I felt more comforted than I had felt in a long time. My life had closed in around me, yet God was still there. All I needed to do was to look up and see the chariots of fire that surround me, and wait for God’s lead. God merely said to me: "Wait on me, and see!".

I waited and that week some amazing things happened. One of my coworkers, who separated from his wife and whom I was passively counseling, attended synagogue for the first time since he was married. He also reconciled with his wife and moved back in.

The young man at the front desk of my hotel, whom I would often strike up conversations with, had talked to his Rabbi who told him that he needed to listen to his American friend (me), because his understanding of the Torah was ‘exciting’ and deep (isn't that a hoot). As a result, he asked for my advice on faith, and on his coming marriage. What a turn of events! He even went as far as to ask me about who Jesus really was.

Out of the blue, another coworker asked me about my faith and wanted to know why I had so much of it. It was in this time that I realized that many of the tares planted by my former employer were pulled up, and a different perspective of Judeo-Christians was being established.
These events weren't mind-blowing tranformations, but they were signs that God was stirring things in the people around me. God is in charge, and He needed me to trust in Him, and Him alone. I was so far from my wife, family and church, that I couldn't rely on them like I do at home. I had to walk in the faith that God was with me and ordering my steps.

I would be misleading to imply that my message here is that fruit is always realized. Many times, the seeds we plant fail to grow at all, and other times they are as mighty cedars that sprout long after we have moved on. It is not a shock to God, that life makes us tired and weary, but God hasn’t left our side. We may stumble, and run in fear, but God draws us to Him and says wait for my presence. Trials and tribulations will go on around us, but where ever we meet God is a time of peace and renewal.

God Bless
Doug

Quick Sidenote: Weekend Fisher has a great exclaimation point for this article. You might want to check it out: The Beatitudes: water in the desert of life

Evangelism (Part IV)

Good, Better, Best God.

Daniel 6:19-21 (NIV)

19 At the first light of dawn, the king got up and hurried to the lions' den.

20 When he came near the den, he called to Daniel in an anguished voice, "Daniel, servant of the living God, has your God, whom you serve continually, been able to rescue you from the lions?"

21 Daniel answered, "O king, live forever!

King Darius makes and interesting statement here: “has your God, whom you serve…” We can assume from this passage that Darius didn’t serve this God. Daniel was in an interesting pickle here.

He could correct Darius and say something like: “Umm king?! I ‘serve’ the One True God!” or he could let this miracle speak for itself. Daniel chose the latter and in verse 26 and 27, we find Darius’ response.

26 "I issue a decree that in every part of my kingdom people must fear and reverence the God of Daniel. "For he is the living God and he endures forever; his kingdom will not be destroyed, his dominion will never end.

27 He rescues and he saves; he performs signs and wonders in the heavens and on the earth. He has rescued Daniel from the power of the lions."


Darius still didn’t really get it. In verse 26, it is translated ‘he {God} is the living God’ it could also be translated ‘he is a living God.’ I contend that this is a better translation because if Darius saw God as ‘the’ one true God, I believe there would be record of his conversion.

Still Daniel prospered, and was able to share his faith with many: including Darius. Also that day, Darius opened the door for Daniel to share the truth of God that couldn’t be shut.

I think that some Christians would cringe at Daniel’s approach here. After all, He didn’t put Darius in his place and set him straight that there was only one God and all others were imposters. Here is my theology question for the day: are we, as Christians, polytheistic or monotheistic?

This is a conundrum for us. We believe that there is one true God. We see Jesus and the Holy Spirit, as ‘Extensions’ of our one true God. We are monotheistic.

Yet God says this in Exodus:

Exodus 20: 2, 3

2 "I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.

3 "You shall have no other gods before me.

This may ruffle a few theological feathers, but this clearly implies there are other ‘gods’. So what does monotheism really mean or imply? There are lots of theories on this, and it really comes down to this simple statement: nothing compares with the One True God. The little-g god’s can’t hold a candle to the greatness, majesty, and ability, of the Lord, Our God.

I’m sure some of you reading this are now thinking: ‘That’s all and good but what does this have to do with evangelism?’ It occurred to me that I don’t need to disprove the gods of other religions to validate that I serve the One True God. Remember Elijah taking on the prophets of Baal.

I Kings 18 36-38

36 At the time of sacrifice, the prophet Elijah stepped forward and prayed: "O LORD, God of Abraham, Isaac and Israel, let it be known today that you are God in Israel and that I am your servant and have done all these things at your command.

37 Answer me, O LORD, answer me, so these people will know that you, O LORD, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again."

38 Then the fire of the LORD fell and burned up the sacrifice, the wood, the stones and the soil, and also licked up the water in the trench.

Elijah didn’t have to prove that Baal wasn’t a real god (though he felt free to poke fun at them), he only needed to show that his God: ‘The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel’, was greater, and in doing so, made the existence of Baal a moot point.

How do we show the greatness of our God today? Does God fire down thunderbolts at our call? Not too often. The important point of this is in verse 36. “I have done these things at your command”.

The short of it is to let God worry about that and just follow His lead.

In life, the humanists, atheists, and agnostics are fully aware of how their ‘god’ is working out for them. We don’t need to point this out, or dwell on it. Sharing God’s love in a relatable way: in the face of their bitterness and distrust of our motives, is a great choice here. God is not worried about being dethroned, and we need not take offense or even be challenged by the rallying of the little-g gods. God doesn't need an advocate or apeasement because He is in charge.

We need to convey to them in a tangible manner, how the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, is there for them: He loves, and yearns to have fellowship with them. When they have experienced the presence of the One True God, nothing else will compare.

Again I come back again to pointing to the scriptures and allowing the seeker to find not man’s answers but God’s.

God Bless
Doug

Evangelism (Part III)

The Practical, Loving God (continued)

Before I get too far, I failed to point to the scriptural basis for the previous post. I strongly believe that God rewards seekers, so pointing people who are seeking is by far one of the best tools we have in witnessing:

Matthew 7: 7-12 (NIV)

7 "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.

8 For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.

9 "Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone?

10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?

11 If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!

12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.

Verse 12 embodies the true intent of the law and this is exposed not only here, but also throughout the journey of the Israelites. I believe King David saw this and wrote:

Psalms 31:7 (NIV)

7 I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul.

Jesus makes some important points here:

1) God loves us more than a father loves his children
2) God rewards the seeker
3) God wants peace among the people around you
4) God wants us to ask

The message hasn’t changed from the Genesis to Revelation. Our God is wonderful, loving, and practical. His laws are as well.

Okay on to my next post.

God Bless
-Doug

Evangelism (Part II)

The Practical, Loving God

In my brief experience, most Israelis aren’t very religious, but they can’t run from the religiosity that is around them. They know many stories in the bible, and are aware that they, as Jews, are unique. They even believe that there is something ‘special’ about where they live. The ties cannot be broken between the Christians and Jews and this provides a wonderful opportunity to share the Gospel.

There is a subtle difference between talking to Muslims and Jews that will affect your ability to ‘relate’ to them. Consider Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. If they were on a map that was a timeline, the roads would start with all three of them together. Sometime within Abraham’s life there is a branch in the road, which Muslims traveled on: this branch had many more inputs and sources on it, so the scenery of the Muslim road changed dramatically from that of the Judean and Christian one. Muslims do embrace some of the Christian teachings through Jesus, who they recognize as a ‘good prophet’, but they are selective in this.

The Christian/Judean road continues up to Jesus and here is what is interesting: with the Jewish road, it essentially stagnates. Before 67 AD, Jews and Christians even worshiped in the same temple. After the fall of the temple in 70AD, there have been no more prophets in the Jewish faith, only interpretations of what has already been written. In essence Judaism is a subset of Christianity.

This is why, like my Jewish friends, I can say that my God is ‘the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob’. I cannot say this with my Muslim friends because there is only a loose bond of commonality.

I have commented on this before, and I want to reiterate an important point to me: to touch Israel is to touch Christianity. During World War II, many Christians took a view that eliminating the Jewish race was not really their problem: since they, themselves were not Jewish, it was of little matter to them. When the Jews were scourged, we, as Christians, were also scourged.

I found that to have a meaningful dialog, you must recognize the Jesus within the Old Testament. The New Testament is virtually meaningless to Israelis, but rest assured, God’s scarlet thread is available throughout His Testament.

What many Israelis have witnessed in their own life is the traditional failure of religiosity. Unfortunately, there is an excellent example for Israelis of this failure: Hassidic Jews. Hassidic Jews are easily recognized because they usually wear a black suit, have a black top hat, and have long beards, and curly locks which are draped in their hat. They have odd practices to us gentiles: they have specific prayer times, like Muslims, they have strict dietary laws, and other rules that totally govern their life. They make a lot of children. I am generalizing here, but for the most part, they seem pretty miserable.

Hassidic Jews seem to grovel before their God, and their laws are crippling to their way of life. For instance: they cannot use a traditional elevator on Shabbat (What we call the Sabath: from sundown-Friday to sun-up, Sunday Morning), because they aren’t allowed to press the buttons on the elevator. The solution for this is that they set all of the elevators to stop on every floor and open automatically.

Talking to people who have personally witnessed this type of behavior opens a sea of opportunities. Take the basic laws found in Exodus 20 and ask the question: did a loving God make these laws? The reflex-answer is yes. Who do these laws benefit: God, man or no one? Again, man is the clear answer here because the laws are extremely practical. The Ten Commandments are the framework for peaceful coexistence with man and God.

If God is loving, and His law is both beneficial and practical, why would He require his faithful to be miserable and grovel before Him? Sight the Old Testament Covenant that goes something like this: ‘I will be your God and you will be My people.’ There is no mention there of traditions, or of miserable existence. Again God remains practical. Even laws about not eating pork were a great idea before refrigeration: these laws protected people from health issues, allowed people to govern their behavior, and coexist with each other.

For whatever reason, this really hit home with a lot of my friends in Israel. I encouraged them to read the books of the Prophets (portions of the Old Testament), and see for themselves. I believe that God’s own words will turn hearts better than any junk that I can come up with. Through all of this, I made it a point to never isolate Christianity from Judaism, and most of the Israelis were amazed that I knew a lot about their customs and their writings. I believe that this helped to establish some bonds that will result in their salvation.

Next Post will focus on a different way to look at other people's God's.

God Bless
Doug

Evangelism: (Part I)

A little different approach

Quoting scripture about the fact that we should witness is easy: applying that scripture to our lives is a little tougher. A few years ago, I was working on a job-site in Israel and the opportunity to sprinkle some seed was all around, but I have to tell you, that in the environment that I was in, it seemed nearly impossible. Here were some of the factors that were weighing in against me:

The contractor that hired me to work on the job was a self-proclaimed Christian, who set the tone on the site by lying, cheating, and eventually going bankrupt. He would often tell the Israeli co-workers that he was a Christian so he wouldn’t drink, or work on Sunday (Saturday, is their day off), etc. His ‘witness’ left a very bad taste in the mouths of my fellow workers. I cringed at many of his statements, and I prayed that they would see him as the confused man that he turned out to be.

Where I was outside of Tel Aviv, most of the people I had come in contact with were, at best, agnostics. Within the Jewish communities, many went to synagogues as children, but had long since left temple attendance. There was a small faction of orthodox Jews in the workplace, but most Israelis had great disdain for them because of things like they wouldn’t serve in the military like the rest of the Israeli citizens. The Arab workers were a mix of atheists, Muslims, and Christians. The Arab Christians were of the Greek Orthodox variety, and spoke almost no English. I was alone in a strange land, with no real support of friends, family, churches, even missionaries. I felt like God was telling me: "Okay Doug! You believe in Me, but now you are going to have to trust in Me too!"

To me, witnessing takes on two parts: the most important is following God’s lead and going where He calls us to go. Doing this takes knowledge of how God works, who God is, and how He motivates us. Life is an open opportunity, so we need to be prepared to listen to God’s calling on a moment’s notice. The second is in making the Gospel tangible to humanity. The first part leads us out of our comfort zone and requires us to have faith that God will guide us. The latter part draws upon our own experiences to relate to the human condition. Balancing these two is always a bit of a trick. In a foreign land, this was even more of an issue.

I might write a book on my experiences in Israel some day, but for now I wanted to talk about a couple of approaches I used to open up the Gospel to atheists, agnostics, and other-faith friends. Firstly, I wanted point out that these people are my friends: they opened their homes, and made me very welcome. I am thankful for their graciousness and courtesy. They helped to make a very bad year in my life a lot better. I still keep in touch with many of them, and seeds continue to be planted.

I have a couple more posts planned here, so bear with me. The next will be on using the Practicality of a loving God to witness. I will then want to post about what I like to call the Good, better, best God.

God Bless
Doug

Enter The Dorkman: Book Review

It is finally out, and I couldn’t resist getting my own copy of Dorkman. Before I go any further, I must say up front that I am not the audience for this book: it was clearly intended for teenagers. The book was written by the fine folks who run The Realm of Possibility blog (Rich Pearce And Ken Story). Their site counted down the days until it was published and so did I. The premise of the story made me cringe some, because I worried that it may hit a little too close to home, but in the end, I am really glad I put my hesitations aside.

Junior High/Middle School was a challenging for most of us, and this book deals with issues that all children are affected by. The social ladder is tough in elementary school, but come middle school, where genders begin to mix and external influences seem to weigh heavier than parental ones, we witness some of the meaner moments in our brief existence here on the planet. Dorkman is a narrative that circles around this social class dynamic.

Cole, the narrator and hero of the book, faces a challenge that will literally shake his world. The setup is simple, but the ramifications of the actions taken in the book make for a great read. Cole has acquired an unwanted friend named Gordon ‘Dorkman’ Dorfmueller. Everywhere he turns, Gordon is there following him like a lost puppy. Gordon is the social pariah, while Cole is rising through the ranks of popularity. A kid like ‘Dorkman’ would trounce his position, and Cole didn’t want that.

Adding to the pickle, Cole was pursuing the love of his life, Ashley Knudson, a golden-locked beauty that was probably one of the most dreamed about girls in his school: she was in his grips, if he played his cards right. Dorkman could ruin everything and Cole’s entire world was turning upside down on him. Cole’s situation was addressed by his friends who had the ‘solutions’ that would solve Cole’s ‘problem’. Cole is now torn between what he wants, and what is right.

The book is very well written, I literally couldn’t put it down, though at times I really wanted to. The subject matter really touched some nerves with me and made me realize how much I've grown in the last twenty plus years. Like many people, I was both like Cole, and Dorkman, so identifying was easy, though painful at times. The language, and some of the situations in the book might raise a few parent’s eyebrows, but it is worth tolerating a few explicative phrases to embrace the message as a whole.

I love how Pearce and Story have balanced the battle between theory and practice. Woven into this story is the idea that right and wrong have clear delineation, and sometimes we must pay a price for what we believe. You follow Cole, treading through these matters of the heart, and really relate with the dilemma that he is in, while at the same time wanting to shout in his ear ‘NO! Don’t do it!’ I laughed at times and hung my head in shame remembering events in my life where I had failed, like Cole. All the time, a strong Christian message quietly pulses through the storyline.

If you have young teenagers, I would highly recommend reading Dorkman, then giving the book to your child. The conversations from the book will be well worth the time. The gospel is subtly infused into the pages, while some parents may object to some of the book’s content: this is why I would recommend reading it first before giving it to your child. Still, the story is heartfelt, and the character development is also excellent, and I must say that it was 4 or so hours well spent. Dorkman puts some tangibility to matters where not acting upon what is right is wrong too. I also believe it will make for some meaningful conversations between you and your children.

If you want to read more about Dorkman or how to order your own copies, go to Dorkmancometh. Dorkman will soon be available through Amazon, just click over to the sight above to get ordering information.

God Bless
Doug

Welcome Back

The dark clouds gathered: they loomed on the horizon with foreboding certainty. I could always feel it in my bones as my heart was dropping. The harsh reality of life was approaching: mid August arrived too quickly. Playing in the walnut tree in the back yard, the reality that summer break was nearing its end and school was calling its wayward citizens back, hit me hard. Opening day snuck up on me, much like it did every year.

Every minute left in my summer became more and more precious. How could I maximize my remaining time of freedom? The usual suspects came to mind: stay up longer. Yes! If I stay up just two more hours a night, it is like getting an extra day out of summer every 8 days. After about 3 days, my zombie walk forced me into taking mid-day naps. Drats! What else? My bank had some money in it so it was time to pamper myself with a glut of comic books, model airplanes, and army men.

There was always the play-up my sadness to my mom plan, (don’t even waste your time with dad because he would just laugh). Maybe, if I moped just enough while behaving like an angel, she might take us to King’s Island, Cedar point, or maybe even a Red’s game. It rarely worked, but it was always worth a shot.

For two months, I had lived carelessly: wasting my days with mindless day-dreaming, playing games, sleeping-in, and riding my bike around the neighborhood in dizzying circles. What was I thinking? Well, perhaps ‘thinking’ is not the best choice of word: little thought went into these months. I avoided thinking of time entirely, let alone thinking about sitting and being tortured with books, multiplication charts, and the migration patterns of little birds. I don’t know if I dreaded the beginning of school or the end of summer more.

Isn’t it funny how life imitates our childhood? There comes a point when people realize that their time on this earth is nearing an end, or it is at least finite. They scramble to fill their remaining days with things: New cars, vacations to exotic locals, new hairstyles, tummy-tucks, or Botox™. Every action intended to maximize their enjoyment or to put off the inevitable mortality. There is this mad dash to do all of the things that they wanted to do or should have done with the previous years of their lives.

We all know what we are avoiding: the unknown. It is not knowing what is on the other side that scares the tar out of us. So we stock up on what we know, what we can tangibly appreciate and chase. Do we fear the end of time or the beginning of eternity? Meanwhile, God stands and waits for us to realize that He is truthful and His promises of a life ever after are more than hollow words:

Paul said it this way in Colossians:

Colossians 1:11-13 (NIV)

11 being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully
12 giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light.
13 For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves,

It is the dominion of darkness that we grasp with our purposeful little fingers: holding on and wishing for it to never stop. Yet here is God with a life free from the clutches of this world, freely giving it to all who will receive it.

A measure of faith is all that is required: both faith in God’s promises, and in knowing that God is. There is no need of more. The problem is that it is a big step. Are you ready to take that leap? Barring Jesus’ return, the end of our days on earth is inevitable, but it not the closing curtain. It is merely the beginning of a glorious transformed life. And for the record, school was never near as horrible as I imagined it.

God Bless
Doug

Collections

The staple items of most boys growing up in the Midwest suburbs were comic books and trading cards. I was no exception. My room was full of both. From my Daredevil comics to the rookie card of Archie Griffon, my collections were vast and growing. My friends and I made rules for trading: some of them were practical, while others were quite odd. Marvel comics were top, so to trade a Spider Man (Marvel) for a DC comic like Superman, would require a 2 for 1 trade.

Similar rules applied for trading cards. Topps cards were, well, tops. Sometimes Wonder Bread™ would put cards in their packages. These cards were kind of cool because they were 3-D, this was the only card that was a 1 for 1 trade for Topps. Hostess also used to put cards in their cartons of Ho Ho’s™ and Ding Dong’s™: they were cards that we wouldn't bother trading, because they had to be hand-cut. All-pro and rookie cards were all the highest rated cards. Then there were the wildcards: Wacky Packs™ were really popular with us, and then there were the Battlestar Galactica and the Six Million Dollar Man trading cards. All of these added a wrinkle to our trading experience.

We had block buster trades which may include multiple comics, some trading cards and an intangible like marbles or a balsa-wood glider. We even had occasions when a trade was misrepresented and we could bring the trade before our friends and let them decide if someone was cheated in the transaction. At the end of the day, our collections flourished, and that lame cardboard that they called bubblegum in the card packs was eventually chewed by all. It was our own small economic system, and we all loved it as much as the collections themselves.

There was something really pleasing about building your collections. There were a couple of our friends whose parents would just buy entire cartons of trading cards. These children had no need of trading because they already had all the cards available. They really missed out on something special. That’s not to say we were a little jealous of them: after all, it was work to inventory your cards and figure out what you were missing. It took time to figure out a trade worthy of obtaining a Mean Joe Green, or Pete Rose, still, the possibilities were dazzling and the opportunities were there and available.

Collections are a part of life and how we handle them can have dramatic effect on our quality of life. What do we collect in our heart? What do we treasure? What heirlooms do we clutch with all that we are? What do we trade off to attain what we perceive to be greater things? What value do we put on family? What do we put off to obtain ‘stuff’? What do we deem off-limits and protect with all our very life?

Solomon understood this. A man who had it all as far as worldly collections goes: money, castles, temples, horses, and let’s not forget the women. Looking reflectively, here is what the great collector says:

Ecclesiastes 1:2-4 (NIV)

2 "Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless."
3 What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?
4 Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever.

Wow! Now there is satisfaction! At the end of the long journey, Solomon looked back, and saw that these pursuits were ‘meaningless’. What about collecting worldly wisdom? Surely he would speak well of such endeavors:

Ecclesiastes 1:13-14 (NIV)

13 I devoted myself to study and to explore by wisdom all that is done under heaven. What a heavy burden God has laid on men! 14 I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.

Strike 2! He goes on to show that the pursuit of riches, wealth, wisdom, advancement, and pleasure are all meaningless. At the twilight of his life, the folly of these endeavors was crystal clear to him. Interestingly enough, in the middle of this commentary, he writes the verses made famous by The Birds, summarized as everything in its due season (turn turn turn).

In chapter six, it all comes to a head. Solomon asks the defining question:

Ecclesiastes 6:12 (NIV)

12 For who knows what is good for a man in life, during the few and meaningless days he passes through like a shadow? Who can tell him what will happen under the sun after he is gone?

There is a point to this gloom. Solomon, had to paint the picture for mankind to make the case for God. He intentionally left an important phrase out of his ‘meaningless’ mantra. Here it is: ‘compared to God's’. Chapter 8 makes it a little clearer:

Ecclesiastes 8:16,17 (NIV)

16 When I applied my mind to know wisdom and to observe man's labor on earth—his eyes not seeing sleep day or night- 17 then I saw all that God has done. No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning. Even if a wise man claims he knows, he cannot really comprehend it.

Solomon saw God in his glory and realized that our lives that are so incredibly important to us, are like a grain of sand on the beach compared to Gods. Our pursuit should be after Him, and in doing so be fulfilled in Him. Maybe Jesus said it a little more eloquently:

Matthew 6: 19, 20 (NIV)

19 "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.

Reflectively, these questions can be overwhelming, yet understanding them helps us to figure out what our true priorities are. God looks at our lives and He knows our needs and wants. Every item that we hide in our heart or mind, He has already assessed and has lovingly made a plan to help us deal with or equip us to attain these items.

What are we collecting? In the grand scheme of things is it really important? Is one million Terry Bradshaw rookie trading cards worth one soul? Only we can answer these questions.

God Bless
Doug

My Home Owner's Association

Hello WOMD Friends,

Okay, this is not one of my normal posts. Recently I got a letter from our Home Owner's Association. The letter had a list of proposed ammendments to our charter that were, in my opinion, absurd and simply unreasonable. It is like they wanted a police state in our neighborhood, this sparked my idea.

There is a song by Flemming and John about writing letters in your head, and this is mine. This is basically the letter that I wanted to send all the home owners in our neighborhood in response to this offensive epistle. For obvious reasons and the pleas of my wife, I opted against sending it (my wife really laughed, but I know she wouldn't have wanted me to send it). This is basically a dead letter, but I figured why let it go completely obscure? I am posting it here for your veiwing pleasure. Please forgive me if it is too over the top, but that was obviously my intent.

Dear Fellow White Sands Citizens

After receiving the letter from T.H., I felt that I needed to write a letter of my own. Based on her concerns, it is clear to me that we need to take action in our neighborhood. After all, we wouldn’t want people thinking ill of each other. I have decided to add a couple more things to this list that will better send the message that she eloquently stated in her letter.

Let’s start with animals: it was suggested that we limit the breeds of allowable dogs in the interest of safety. I also think that all dogs should be leashed at all times: even when they are sleeping and indoors. Since we all know that breed limiting may be considered partisan, I would propose that we ban all dogs from the neighborhood. Also, since cat scratch fever is not just a horrible cover song performed by Molly Hatchet, but rather a real and dangerous thing, we should go ahead and ban cats too. While we are at it, it is a fact that avian flu is carried by birds so let’s ban parrots, parakeets, and the like as well. After all, it is all in the interest of safety.

Our property value is at stake here, and so, by golly, we need to take some action to maximize the home values. I suggest that we not allow any cars in our neighborhood that are older than 5 years. This will give our neighborhood that rich feeling. Also, any car that has a physical blemish, like a door ding, broken tail light, or is made by Buick, must be parked in the garage. We don’t want to send the wrong message to prospective buyers out there. Motorcycles are strictly forbidden. Also any car that’s base model costs less than $15,000 is prohibited. It is also a know fact that black, silver, and white are the colors of dignitaries. Only these three color types will be permissible.

In addition we need a dress code, especially for our children. Any boy playing in our neighborhood should be required to wear white cotton shorts or pants, a button-down shirt, and a cardigan or sweater-vest. Girls will wear dresses of at least knee length and covered shoulders, and have bows and frilly things in their hair. Speaking of hair, girl’s hair must be long and boy’s hair must be short. Shoes need to be worn at all times, even if the child is playing in the sprinklers. Now that I think of it, it is really dangerous to have kids under five playing at all in their front yards, so if your children are in the front yard, they should be on leashes, with a collar to identify their owner. We need to send the message that we really care about our kids.

Adults also must dress accordingly, men should wear at least a sports jacket and top-hat at all times, even when mowing their yard or cleaning their pool. Ladies must wear dresses and carry parasols to shade them from that harsh Florida environment.

Also we want to send the message that we are classy here, so at Halloween, we need to make a rule that the minimum candy that can be given to a child is a full-sized candy bar: no more of those lame-o Smarties or chintzy candy corn. We should probably give king-sized bars, but I’ll leave that up to you, after all, this isn’t some communist dictatorship telling us what to do. Also all costumes worn by our children on Halloween need to be handmade, and a sheet with two holes in it for eyes doesn’t count. All costumes must be approved by the appointed homeowner’s committee. If you want to be rich, it starts with dressing the part.

No holidays will be recognized in our neighborhood by any outside decorations. Outside adornments should be strictly forbidden.

Shopping at certain stores in our area may send a negative message as well, so no longer will you be allowed to shop at any store that has ‘mart’, ‘club’, ‘warehouse’ or ‘discount’ in their name. The HOA will have to get together and make a list of approved and forbidden stores.

All homes must be immaculate: inside and out. We should make a law that we can come into any home on the block and ‘critique’ its appearance. If they don’t clean up their mess, then we have an appointed maid service come in and do it for them at their expense. This same logic should apply to the outside of the homes too.

No flags of any kind should be flown in the neighborhood, and cars may not have bumper stickers or vanity plates because all of these send the wrong message. No wait! I think we need to come up with our own neighborhood flag that the citizens of White Sands can hang with pride and that sends the message that we are united and not dysfunctional people under the rule of a Gestapo-like police agency.

This is a lot of rules to add, so we will probably need to begin a neighborhood watch to assure that all of our neighbors are in loving compliance with all rules. It will need to be a 24 hour watch, so each household will be required to have someone volunteer once every 3 weeks for a day. A day is made up of 24 hours so families may want to split the day into two, twelve-hour shifts. And before anyone asks: children under five may not volunteer for this duty since we will need to provide them with an armed semi-automatic gun to fulfill their duties.

Since we are now implementing a neighborhood watch, we will also need to add a guard-tower to our neighborhood. Lesser places put up a little ‘hut’ in the front of their street. This is about as foreboding as a baby kitten at a WWE smack-down fest. We are better than that! We should put up a ten-foot barrier complete with barbed-wire, search lights, trained attack dogs, surveillance cameras, and warning sirens. This will send the message that we are safety-minded and care about the little people living in our neighborhood. All cars entering and exiting our street will need to be searched. This may be a little extreme, but we can’t be too safe can we?

Though we have no crossing streets, we should also put up a stop light in the middle so that we can let the children cross the street safely. The light should change every sixty seconds so that no pedestrians have to wait too long to cross. In the future maybe we should consider building a bridge over the street for little ones to cross: we just can’t be too safe.

We should also install speakers all through the neighborhood and it should have tracks that say things like ‘White Sands citizens are better because they comply with all rules set out by the grand emperors of the Home Owner’s Association (HOA).’, ‘We love White Sands and we keep our lives hygienically sterile’, ‘All White Sands citizens love the HOA and are happy to assist in following the rules.’, ‘We’re not snooty, we just have class!’ and ‘It’s an honor to be a White Sands citizen and people like us.’.

I hope that I have made my point very clear here. My wife and I are on a much-needed vacation during this next meeting of the HOA. If you are like me and think that these new proposals are ludicrous, and make you feel like you are in Nazi Germany than in a real neighborhood, I hope that you will vote against these ammendments. It is ridiculous finger-pointing policies like these that make enemies of neighbors.

Please consider this letter our household’s votes against changing the rules that govern our street.

Sincerely
Doug

Building For The Future

My best friend and I proudly stared up into the tree in my back yard: it was a modern marvel. There was nothing like it anywhere, and we, with all of the combined 20 or so years of experience on this earth, would attest to this. Consisting of a combination of old two-by-fours, and other wood orphans that we found in our garage, we managed to construct our secret tree fort in the middle of the set-aside wetlands that were part of my parent’s property.

We were trailblazers, riding shotgun into life. We’d read about kids doing this stuff in books, but those books were fiction: we did this for real. I can remember climbing into our fort for the first time. The smell of fresh pine filled the cavity and my friend and I just sat and admired our handiwork. It truly was a great accomplishment. In our eyes, we were revolutionary: children on a course with destiny. We believed that we were different and that we were unlike any other generation before us.

My mind was quickened to this a few years back. When I was in High School, I was president of my school’s chapter of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes (the FCA). I was asked to speak at the FCA meeting of one my colleague’s son’s. When I arrived, I heard conversations that drew me back to my youth. A few of the students in this group were trying to plan a prank to pull for graduation.

There were all sorts of things being tossed around, but there was a general theme. Here was the general gist of it: do something that will be remembered for years to come; do something that would set them apart from all other classes; pull a prank that that would live on in infamy; something that could linger on long after they had moved on to the next stage of their life.

When I was in High School, I too believed that I was different from any other generation. I believed that I was special and that my contributions to society would be monumental. My parents couldn’t understand my situation because they had never been through what I was going through. Looking back now, I can now see the deception disguised in a truth. If there is one thing that history tells us, it is that history doesn’t learn well from itself. The axiom is that there are things that people can tell you but they are worthless without experiencing them firsthand.

God made each of us uniquely and meticulously. David writes:

Psalm 139:14 (NIV)

14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well

Yet our experiences, interactions, hopes, dreams, and aspirations aren’t exactly unique. David’s son wrote this:

Ecclesiastes 1:8-10 (NIV)

8 All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing.
9 What has been will be again, has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.
10 Is there anything of which one can say, "Look! This is something new"? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time.

I have commented before that Augustine often quoted this verse and I suggested that the clause ‘except gadgets’ should be added, but Solomon wasn't talking about things here. He was talking about the human condition.

I was at a Jail ministry banquet this past weekend and the speaker reminded me of something that the Roman generals would do when returning from a victorious campaign abroad. As the legions of soldiers, slaves, and treasures, would be marched into the city, the general would come in from the rear, riding on a chariot. The Roman citizens would throw olive branches: lavishing praises and welcoming him back to Rome. On the chariot, with the general, would be a small slave whose only job would be to remind the general of his humanity by shouting ‘All glory is fading!’ All glory is fading… I too might add a word to that: ‘All [human] glory is fading.’

History may remember events, and even some individuals, but when thinking about the children that we will some day leave behind, what is the legacy you want to leave them? Will my daughter remember the hours that I worked on projects for godless managers or is she more likely to remember the hours I spent telling her stories of mystery and wonder in her bedroom? Will she remember the meetings that I go to at church, or will she remember the vacations we took to strange and wonderful places? Will she remember the inventions that I have created, or the stories I have told her about the loving inventor of this universe? Will she remember seeing me leave for work every day, or will she remember the love that I showed to my wife, and all of my children?

I pray that she remembers the latter in all of these questions. My legacy is the people I have touched, and if I have touched them with God’s hope, promise, and joy, then it is a truly eternal one. The only sustained legacy is through the One that can outlast time.

28 years later, there is no record of my fort in that back yard. The boards either fell down, or were taken down and the trees have no apparent scars from our construction efforts. In my mind, though, it truly was glorious.

-Doug

50 Years Ago Today

Today is a special day. 50 years ago the government issued U.S. Patent No. 3,167,440 to Noah McVicker and Joseph McVicker. Not familiar with their names? It seems that Joe was trying to make an invention to clean the glue off of wallpaper. It never worked particularly well at this.

Joe was talking to a teacher who was expressing frustration with trying to use modeling clay with her younger children. The two main problems were that it was too difficult to mold it and certain clays were mildly toxic if digested (a common occurrence with 5 year olds). He remembered his failed wallpaper cleaner substance. It was very moldable, and best of all, it was non-toxic.

Joe went back to his lab and brought over a box of the stuff for the teachers and children to play with. The “plastic modeling composition” was an enormous success. Joe and his brother Noah started their own company called Rainbow Crafts. Within six months, they were supplying their clay-replacement to all of the schools in the greater Cincinnati area. It wasn’t long after that, that production reached national levels.

Originally only sold in off-white. Play Doh™ has come a long way. I bought my daughter a Play Doh™ set that had 32 different colors. The formula has improved (aka changed) to allow it to be softer and not dry out so quickly, but it is essentially the same stuff that Joe and Noah distributed 50 years ago.

The salty smell when opening the can is still recognizable to us today. Watching my oldest child playing with it, reminds me of being a kid and the ever fascination I had with this strange substance. Also, having a kid of my own, I now understand some of my mom’s frustration with cleaning the stuff too! All in all, it is a pretty great invention.

Here’s wishing you a Happy Birthday Play Doh™ and thanks for the hours of fun you have given me, and now my daughter.

What are some of your memories of this wonderfully strange goo?

-Doug

What Lies Beneath...

The house that I grew up in was always pretty tidy. My mother and father were both organized and able keep the house looking great. Both of them had their bad habits: my mom would stuff the kitchen drawers with nick-nacks and odd items and my dad had a tendency to leave his black socks by the chair that he would watch television in. Still, we could have company drop in on a moments notice without being horribly embarrassed.

There was one corner of the house where that organization need not apply. My room was a source of great tension when I was growing up. I hated cleaning my room, and it was amazing how quickly I could get it dirty. I am not exaggerating when I say that my mom would have me clean it in the morning, and by lunch it was already a disaster area. My mom would just sigh and have me clean it again. It was a never-ending battle.

I had a simple rule when cleaning my room: cleanliness is removing clutter from the field of view. I can imagine that you can see where this is going. When I would clean my room, I would start by making my bed. A nicely made bed went far to making my room look spic and span, but there was really an ulterior motive here. With my bed made, I could gauge how far I would have to push my stuff under the bed so that it couldn’t be seen when walking around.

Other great ‘collection’ spots included putting junk behind my dresser. I could stuff tons of paper, wrappers, toys, cards, comic books and plastic army men behind that large piece of furniture and no one would notice. Then there were my dresser drawers: sure I needed them for my clothes, but they could hold a nice layer of ‘stuff’ and then I could put the clothes on top.

To the initial glance, my room looked decently clean. But upon closer inspection, it was an absolute disaster. Often my dad would come in my room, flip up the bead spread, and tell me to get to work. He also would pull my dresser away from the wall, and look in disgust at my mess. I would be on the verge of tears. I didn’t want to be messy, but I wasn’t willing to put in the energy and effort to have a truly clean room.

This messiness also contributed to the reason that my room would get so out of kilter so quickly. Without fail, I needed to go on a mission to find a toy or a comic book that was mysteriously ‘missing’. I would have to plunge into all of my stealthy areas on a reconnaissance mission. I would ignore the fact that I was exposing the messes that I had so cleverly hidden. After finding the object of my attention, my room was left in worse shape than before I started cleaning it earlier that morning.

If only I would have learned and taken the effort to properly clean my room, I could have saved myself hours of re-hiding effort. The fact is, that most of the junk I was holding on to would be trashed any way. Why bother holding on to it? If it was important, why wasn’t it put neatly in a place for easy access? My laziness had won the battle over common sense. I could write on and on about how much of a bad steward I was (and still am) with what I had been blessed with, but that is another article to itself completely.

I look at my life today and the skeletons that are hidden throughout the crevices of my existence and I wonder to myself: when God convicts me to clean things up, do I try to find new places to hide my sins, cover them with 'good works', or do I make the effort to really clean them? Externally, I look good, after all, I work hard live a good, loving, kind, helpful, life, but what happens when God scratches below the surface a little?

Spritually, how am I really any different than that kid who thought he was so clever in avoiding really cleaning his room? Does my anger still get the best of me at times? Does pride destroy my witness? Have I cleaned my life up very nicely, only to stand in horror as someone lifts up my 'bead spread' and peeks under? If I can’t remove the flesh that makes me sin, when will it unexpectedly rear its ugly head again?

God dealt with Aaron and Miriam when they challenged Moses’ position with God. The bible literally says that God burned with anger against them. I don’t want to have that written about me. The scripture goes on to say:

Numbers 12:10-11

10 When the cloud lifted from above the Tent, there stood Miriam—leprous, like snow. Aaron turned toward her and saw that she had leprosy;

11 and he said to Moses, "Please, my lord, do not hold against us the sin we have so foolishly committed.“

Aaron, pleads with Moses (‘my lord’ is not God in this case), to not hold their folly against them. Aaron’s immediate reference is this latest incident, but recall that Aaron was also the maker of the golden calf. The sin that Aaron didn’t fully deal wuth earlier came back to bring curses upon his household.

Unfortunately for my wife, my habits of ‘tidy-ness’ have continued into my adult life: my office is a horror that small children would shriek in terror at its very sight. I pray that my walk with God isn’t plagued by these same problems. I know that, with God’s help I have been able to truly clean up a lot of spiritual 'junk' in my life. It is never easy going through it, but the rewards on the other side are simply worth the effort.

So who's ready for some house cleaning?!

-Doug

Missionary Impossible

What do I really need? What would I really desire to leave after I have passed away? What can I live without? I was once on a mission trip to Guatemala and these questions really came to life for me. We were on a medical trip into some of the villages surrounding Guatemala City.

Our group had gathered numerous supplies for the trip. We were focused on helping children, so we brought vaccines, food products, clothes, vitamins, toothpaste, toothbrushes, toys, bibles, tracks, and puppets. I even bought a guitar that I planned on giving away when I left.

I was at one of the smaller villages around lake Atitlan, handing out care-packages with a little candy, toiletries, vitamins, some small toys, and some simple tracks, when I was struck hard by a thought. The image in my head sickened me and made me have to stop for a moment and come to grips with the realities of life.

I thought about these bags of carefully selected items and the love and care that went into preparing and delivering each one of them. I thought about the wonderful children that were receiving these bags and how these bags weren’t just a nice gift, they were needed supplies that these children were lacking. Then I thought about how long these supplies would really last and who was going to be there to fill their many needs after our mission trip was long over. It dawned on me that 90 percent of the items that we were delivering would need replenishing in only a few weeks. These supplies took our group weeks to obtain and prepare, and we would only be able to help a few thousand. The poverty we witnessed made me see how very few things in my life that I really ‘needed.’ My heart lowered. Was what we were doing futile?

Two distinct epiphanies came out of this heart-searching moment:

1) Poverty will always be amongst us.
2) Treat the causes, even while addressing the symptoms.

Jesus said this very thing in Mark:

Mark 14:7 (New International Version)
7 The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me.

My definition of ‘poverty’ is a state of being where there is an inability to obtain the items needed for existence. An impoverished person is in need of aid from an outside source.

From a humanistic perspective, what are the basic human needs? Food, clothing, medicine and shelter all take top billing. These items are certainly necessary for daily existence, but none of them are the real issue. The humanistic view, in general, sees the immediate needs and tries to address them. This is, without a doubt, a necessary action: we need to handle the immediate problem. But is this really enough?

There is an old saying that was rattling through my head. It was something like. “If you feed a man a fish, and he will eat well for a day. If you teach a man to fish, he will eat well for a lifetime.”

Feeding, clothing, medicating, and providing shelter are worthy goals, but there needed to be more. We needed to know much more about them and be a part of their life, so that we could know the things that they really needed. We needed to do this in a way that didn’t imply that we were imposing our way of life on them, but rather, we were enabling them to live a better way of their own lifestyle. We needed to equip these people to feed themselves. We needed to break the cycle of poverty that has existed for generations. We also needed to equip them with hope.

This kind of hope can only come through the Gospel, but how effective can a group of foreigners, who spoke enough Spanish to get themselves in big trouble, be? Once (or, technically ‘as’) man’s basic needs are being met, then we can discuss eternal ones. We needed to train leaders with willing hearts to speak to their own people. Nurturing, equipping and educating are not bandages to their problems: they are long-term solutions that will perpetuate themselves, long after we were gone. It all seemed so obvious, yet I was oblivious to it until that very moment.

The mission’s organization, Missionary Ventures, which I went to Guatemala with, understood this far better than I did, or ever will, for that matter. What I was thinking in my head, was actually their primary focus and I couldn’t grasp this until I went there for myself. Through their efforts, and God’s blessings, they have been able to help local villagers open physician’s clinics, churches, shelters, schools, and orphanages. Their people were committed, loving, and courageous, I was honored to get to be with them.

When we were in Nebaj, a small village up in the mountains, there was an orphanage run by a single man. It had over 30 children in it. When he started, he could barely feed the four or five children that he had. This group looked at his situation and realized that his property was on a fresh-water stream. They also found out that no one in his village fished for food. The only fish they had was when they came down the mountain. They taught this man how to make a fish farm. He sold his fish in the market place. When I was there, he had enough money to feed, clothe and seek out other children. He was also building his second home (and a second fish-farm) to house more orphans. This man gave these children all of their basic needs, he taught them to read and write, he shared with them about God's love for them, and gave them love in ways that they could see God’s heart tangibly.

The changes in his life were monumental. More importantly, what will he leave behind? He will leave a legacy of love, and of breaking the cycle of imprisonment that these children were destined to. He has preached the Gospel to them, in ways that we will never be able to. The sources of his need were addressed and the symptoms went away.

If you are interested in missionary work, I would highly recommend looking this group up (Missionary Ventures), but they are certainly not the only ones with this heart and vision.

I loved my mission trips, but I hated what it showed in my heart. I repented and God’s grace, love and compassion has covered me. I am loved and so must I love. I pray that more of Guatemala would rub off on me when I feel the need to have more ‘stuff’. Please feel free to share your experiences.

In Christ
Doug

You Are Now Entering The Jungle

As a kid, my mom would often take me on a great adventure. Would there be lions, tigers, or bears? Oh yes, quite possibly: even a wild elephant, or a T-rex. Was there danger? That too: my very life could very well be in peril! What about enemies? Yes: ‘Charlie’, 'Jerry', or the 'Ruskies' might show up, other times it was Ninja’s, Martian’s, or even Slestack’s.

'Where did all of this occur?', you may ask. It occured on our trips shopping. You then might say shopping wasn't like this for you. For me, every trip was a fantastic journey into my little noggin. Be it Sears, Lazurus, K-Mart, or any other forsaken store that my mom would knowingly drag my sister and me into, she would go with a plan of purchasing clothes or other items for our family, or friends of the family: my agenda was to dream about all I could be.

We would arrive and my eyes would go wide. “Stay here! Don’t go too far away!” She would say in that authoritative voice which meant she was very serious, but with a smile that said I am saying this because I love you. I would blindly nod my head because I was already far away in my own gigantic world.

I still recount the smell of all of that leather, polyester, rayon, and cotton. In the large metal racks that were like rows of trees in the thick jungle, my mind would wonder. I would get inside one of these imagination stations and pretend I was hunting or being hunted. Sometimes, in the secret places inside these magical racks, there would be my spaceship and I was traveling to a distant planet.

I would be stirred by an occasional “Are you nearby Douglas?” My name went from 'Dougie' to 'Douglas' as a function of how much authority that my mom needed at the time. Reality was back in my midst. “Yes mom!” with a heavy sigh (here comes the other shoe). “Get out of the racks honey! Those are not toys.” Says who? I sure loved them. By whose definition of ‘toy’ was she referring?

In a voice of defeat I would say, “Okay!” Slowly I would crawl out of my spaceship: my best plans foiled by reason. But there was still the jungle to deal with. Making my way through the densest parts on my safari, I would move about from rack to rack. Hunting some nemesis of my small African village.

Reality would interrupt again, but this time it was me: “Where am I?” It was an odd question, indeed! I was in a jungle hunting an enemy with a nefarious face I had not yet seen. No wait! I am in the clothes section of a department store! The better question was not “Where am I?”, but rather, “Where was my mom?” Panic would settle into my bones and a timid “Mom?!” would come out of my otherwise rather boisterous mouth.

The cry would get louder “MOM?!”, I couldn’t see her, and I couldn’t see over the racks of clothes. Every turn I would make, I would run into another rack, impeding my path of movement as well as my line of sight. Maybe she left, I would think. Maybe she was angry and didn’t want to answer my cries of help. Maybe this was her plan all along: to leave me and live the better life that she earned by putting up with me for all of these years. I could feel my heart pounding harder and harder. Many times I felt like just sitting and pouting, but I had to keep moving. I am, after all, a survivor of the jungle.

I once heard or read somewhere that to survive a charging lion you don't need to run the fastest, you just need to not be the slowest! This day, I determined to myself, the lions will not be feasting on me (oh what about reality? where had it gone?). Lesser children would sit and cry, but I would keep in motion to maximize the chances of some adult noticing a kid whose attention span was completely lost.

“Honey?! Where are you?” It was the calmest, greatest voice that this child could ever hear: my focus returns.

“I am over hear Mommy!” With all my fear of being abandoned, and all of my wistful playing, I had wondered a whole two rows from where she was. You see, my mother always kept track of my sister and me. I couldn’t see beyond the racks that impeded my vision, but my mom could. She was looking out for me all along.

With a bag of purchased items, she would swoop down and hug me like it was years since we parted ways: home was in her arms.

How far is this from my relationship with God? Unlike me, He can see the proverbial forest from the trees, yet I don’t always look to Him for direction or as my true compass. I am prone to wonder. He too directs me not to go to far from Him, yet I scurry about, fighting my own dragons that curiously look like windmills.

Life distracts me, and I can’t always see Him. How many times has the panic of being lost, forgotten, overlooked, or abandoned crept into my life? But in those times when I find Him again, He is there waiting with a hug and a welcome like none other. Through my free will, God has allowed me and I am permitted to roam around, yet His eye has never left nor has He forsaken me.

Thank You, Lord! And Thank you, Mom!

-Doug

La! La! La! La! I Can't Hear You!

Playing was hard work when I was young. My friends and I would do things that involved a serious level of physicality: we would race our bikes to any destination, run from them to wherever, and make up games that required us to build, climb, run, roll, lift, kick, shout, and shoot. It was a rarity at the end of a summer day that my mother would refrain from instructing me to take a bath.

After my bath, the bathtub would need a bath too. We played hard and loved every minute of it. With all of that energy expended on playing, I rarely had the energy to do my chores. I would come home and the trash needed removing, or the lawn needed mowing and I was ‘too tired’. When I would get around to doing these things, it was like pulling teeth: I hated every minute of it. These tasks drained the very life from my bones, yet they were only a fraction of the effort that I expended in my adventures in playdom.

My attitude was often called into check by my parents, but for the most part, it was a losing battle for them. Few things would frustrate my mother more than the fact that she would have to tell me to clean my room. She was still flustered, even after I would obey and do it. There was a simple problem here: my heart wasn’t in doing these things. I discovered a technicality that worked with some things with parents, at least for a while. It was the ‘Oh I didn’t hear that!’ maneuver. Sometimes it was a deliberate boldfaced lie, but most of the time it was recognizing that they were going to ask you to do some work so you would do something noisy that would prevent you from hearing what they were saying or asking. The theory was that if I couldn’t hear the command, I couldn’t be responsible for doing it. My sister had similar joke about her car: she would say that her car was making a funny noise, so she’d turn up the radio and the noise would go away.

As funny as this is, I wonder how far I have come from this with the spiritual child inside of me. There are things in my Christian walk that I love and will pour my heart into: I love to worship on my guitar, I love teaching, and I love fellowship. There are other things that I know I am called to do, but I try to avoid. Prayer, quiet times, witnessing: all of which I do, but many times it is strictly dry compliance. I stink and fall at so many things in my walk. My heart is clearly not set on them, I will do them in obedience, but they are neither fun nor something that I would personally choose to do. Because my heart is not in these things, God sometimes needs to shout to get my attention.

There is a song verse from Out of the Gray that says something like this:

He is not silent.
He is not whispering
We are not quiet!
We are not listening.

Wow how true is this?! Just articulating this is a painful thing to me. I know God is talking and I am guilty as charged, but then I ask myself why isn’t my heart in these things and why does God have to shake me to get my attention?

I think insight comes in why my mom was so frustrated with my inability to clean my room on my own. It was easy enough for her to tell me to clean my room and punish me for non-compliance, but there was something more that she wanted. It was something that I believe that she could not put her finger on. My mom didn’t want to make a rule for me to clean my room. She wanted me to see my room like she saw my room: as the disastrous mess that it was. God made the law, much like my mom made rules, but God really wanted us to look at sin as He sees sin. Like my mom, God was trying to train my eyes/mind/heart to see what was wrong without the need for rules.

When we do things, are we doing them to make God happy or are we doing them because we see the need for them to be done? What is God trying to get you to see? Take a deep breath, listen, and let God replace your heart of stone with a heart of flesh.

-Doug

School Days

I taught a pre-k Sunday School class for about 15 years. It was one of the biggest highlights of my week. I never ceased to be amazed at the things that four and five year olds say and think.

One Sunday, a little boy stood in front of me, tugging on my pant leg until I could give him my complete attention. He straigthened up and proclaimed: 'Mr. Joseph?! I'm gonna preach to you, but I've lost my place so it is going to take me a minute!' Pulling out one of his parent's Bibles, Johnathon thumbed through the pages muttering 'Nope, it's not here!' until he would get somewhere around Psalms or Isaiah and proclaim: 'Okay! Here we go! You need Jesus in your life!' He would smile and shut the Bible and walk away. It was moments like those that made it all worth while.

There are, of course, those times when you must remind yourself that God has called you into this ministry. Days when you come home from church and just collapse on your couch, desiring to be undisturbed for the next sixty years. Little 'fires', if not put out properly, can become towering infernos! From children trying to draw new faces on other kids with markers to completely lost attention spans, all things are possible with twenty to thirty pre-kindergartners.

I imagine that God has these kind of days as well with us. I find it hard not to imagine God getting a chuckle out of Samuel thinking that it was Eli calling him out of his sleep. Or how Jesus smiled at Peter ‘s first steps on water. I can imagine the sadness of God when Solomon chose to ignore warnings of his impending folly. I think that God's anger was raised with the money changers as well as with the Israelites when they made a golden cow while Moses was on top of the mountain.

God knows us inside and out, and there is nothing you can say or do that He hasn't already taken into account. God's patience is immeasurable and thank goodness for that, because I would have run out of patience with me a long time ago!

I would do my best to try to love these children in my class unconditionally: we hate sin, not the sinner. This sounds great on paper, but it is not always an easy task, yet God does this effortlessly: He looks at us, all of us, both inside and out, and holds His hand out to each of us, even if we were the only one on the face of this planet, He would do the same. Sometimes true love requires, stern correction, but it is God's willingness to put His friendship with us on the line, to further our growth that shows how very much He cares for us.

God gives us insight into life, not for the purpose of manipulating us into worshiping Him, but out of love and for the purpose of strengthening us. His direction bolsters our spiritual growth and encourages us to go deeper in Him. He is not into popularity contests and abhors tyrannical rule. God's chastisement is for edification, not destruction. The proof of this is simple: God has everything! What does God have to gain by helping us? The Bible says that eventually, even the rocks will cry out praises to his name. He holds all the cards and owes us nothing, yet He quietly offers us place of royalty in His house! He leads his class by example and is the very best of teachers.

-Doug

Sign Of The Times

As I have gotten older, I have found that my belief in the goodness of mankind has eroded and I have become significantly more cynical. I can remember, when Bob Dole was running against Bill Clinton, clinching my fists at the television and proclaiming: is this really the best that this nation has to offer? It was disgusting then and even more so today.

What is in a label? Conservative, by definition, means favoring traditional views and values; tending to oppose change. Are we, who define ourselves as conservatives, really conservative anymore?

Ronald Reagan, who in my opinion is the last great president of the United States, was a Democrat in the early 1960's. This seems like such an amazingly odd thing to me until you listen to some of John F. Kennedy's speeches. Kennedy sited things like the Monroe doctrine when it came to communism in this hemisphere. He lauded the Bible, and even in promoting a doctrine of separation of church and state, emphasized the need for this nation to have a moral compass. I am not blind to the many other things JFK brought to the table, but I wanted to point out that a tremendous degradation of both parties has occurred. Can you imagine making a statement like below today?

'The 1930's taught us a clear lesson: aggressive conduct, if allowed to go unchecked and unchallenged ultimately leads to war. This nation is opposed to war. We are also true to our word. Our unswerving objective, therefore, must be to prevent the use of these missiles against this or any other country, and to secure their withdrawal or elimination from the Western Hemisphere.

Our policy has been one of patience and restraint, as befits a peaceful and powerful nation, which leads a worldwide alliance. We have been determined not to be diverted from our central concerns by mere irritants and fanatics. But now further action is required--and it is under way; and these actions may only be the beginning."

Monday, October 22, 1962 (Kennedy addressing the nation concerning the Cuban Missile Crisis)

Does this speech sound familiar? Perhaps you heard what George W. Bush said concerning Iraq and thought his speech was 'hawk-like'. Bush has been lambasted for the very thing that Kennedy was praised for: there are times when war must be waged to minimize global impact. It is the mandate of those who can to do.

40 years later, our infrastructure has failed us; social security is in trouble; our healthcare system has been cannibalized by our litigious-happy society; abortion is legal and openly accepted; Christianity is now considered a taboo subject; there are lingerie catalogs mailed to my house that JFK would have labelled a 'scandalous gentlemen's magazine'; even the pledge of allegiance has been drawn into public scrutiny and banned in some 'forward thinking' sectors. It saddens me that I have two daughters and I cannot tell them to go outside and play because I went to a website that says that we have 3 pedophiles that live within 2 miles of my house.

Our world has turned upside down: the things that are now legal, I want illegalized. Actions that are considered morally acceptable need changing. I am now the liberal, and I am watching my civil liberties be trampled on and revoked both left and right.

Anger can come when people see the frustration and futility of fighting for what they believe in: this can occur in the workplace, between our spouse and us, even in sports. Our society and the slippery moral slope that we seem to be on have angered me, yet I still believe. There was a song back in the 80's from the Call, I Still Believe:

I've been in a cave for forty days, only a spark to light my way.

I want to get out, I want to give in, this is our cry, this is our sin.

But I still believe. I still believe through the shame and through the grief.
Through the lies and through the storms, through the cries and through the wars.
I still believe.

I love this song for what it says and it is the mantra that I want to dwell on. I still believe: in this country and its greatness, in moral absolutes, in a God who is waiting for His wayward son. Upon reflection, I never did buy into the 'goodness of mankind': I bought into the redemptive power that atones for man's goodness', and the Man who made it all happen. And in that I can rest knowing that God is still the leader of my party.

-Doug

Olympic Models

Eric Heiden's 5-medal run is, by far, one the greatest memories for me concerning the Olympics. In 1980, I watched him thrash his competition with ease. He then spoke as a gracious gentleman in front of the camera. I wanted to be like him. Gold medals are special, they make children dream about being great, but what about silvers? I’ve heard some say things like ‘second place is really first place… of the losers!’ or ‘No one ever remembers the runner-up.’ I think this is a tell-tale sign of the times in American Culture. We thrive on being the best. This humanistic view is fueled by the media and over-paid athletes who flaunt their God-given talents and virtues with scenes fitting of a five-year old brat who is trying to muster their own self-esteem.

The Bible is clear that we are to focus on excellence. Paul Writes:

Phillipians 4:8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Paul also urges believers never to give up. Most Christians apply this to their walk with God, and this is certainly Paul’s focus, but it also could apply to life in general. It is a fundamental principal of sports, as well as business. But when does this focus and determination become unhealthy?

In Exodus, God also tells us to have no idols before Him. Can our focus on things such as sports and business be an idol? Maybe we should start by asking ourselves these questions:

Does it consume me?
Does it negatively affect my relationships with God and others?
Does it cause others to stumble?

These are questions that only we can personally answer. We need to examine ourselves and let God convict us what we need to change.

God called us to excellence, but it doesn't always translate into gold medals: sometimes it manifests itself into simply attaining a personal best, possibly being able to go to something as wonderful as the Olympics or being able to face another day at a miserable job. There are so many stories from the Olympics that exemplify both the good and the bad of competitive sports, but I am always drawn back to two quotes from the movie Chariots of Fire by one of the main characters, Eric Liddel:

“Then where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? {It comes} From within!”

“I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

I don't know if Liddle really said these quotes, but I sure want to believe he did. Liddle, who went from winning Olympic Gold to being a missionary in China, understood that God created us for so much more than we could know, but not all things that he called us to were directly ‘Christian’ activities. ‘We are in the world, but not of it’: That is not a call for us to be isolationists, it is a call for us to be an example of a better life: a life more abundant, a life where all can be redeemed and love abounds, a life where all that we do can bring pleasure to our Creator.

-Doug

My All Mental Squad

Enough philosophy for a while! Let’s talk about basketball. With the Magic once again faltering into oblivian, I am drawn back to the rest of the league, and more importantly, players who seem to be a few cards short of a full deck. Players in this elite squad seem to have everything physically: they are hardened veterans of the game, but the inability to overcome their own mental demons have crippled them beyond repair. I am focusing on active players. That negates players like Dennis Rodman (The Worm), Brian Williams (Bison Dele), as well as Karl Malone (The Mailman). Interstingly enough Karl was one of my favorite players of all time, this isn't about liking, this is about players exhibiting self-destructive behaviors.

I have my starting five. I am asking people to add to my list with reasons why they are there:

Tracy McGrady: Okay, I’ll admit it! As a magic-fan, I have something against this wall-eyed Rocket. As a Magic player, T-Mac would make comments like “I can’t carry the team!” New flash Tracy: You weren’t. The Magic amassed only 21 wins 2 seasons ago with him as our anchor, and most fans weren’t too sad to see ‘Me-Mac’ part ways with the organization. Tracy’s mouth made fans cringe at both his arrogance and completely disregarding his teammates contributions. There were signs earlier about this guy, but we ignored them because of all of his apparent talent. One of the biggest signs of things to come was his inability to finish out games. Many, including myself, attributed some of this to him putting everything into a game and having nothing left for the end. I know now that it wasn’t really longevity, it was just simply nerves. Many have talked about Steve Francis and his many problems. While many of these gripes are true, there is one thing I like about Steve much more than Tracy. Steve has ice in his veins for that infamous last shot. I am far less nervous with Steve taking that final shot.

Chris Webber: Can one play fate a player to a life of being a team-virus? In Webber’s case, I’d have to say yes. College Basketball fans will ever remember that fateful 1993 championship against North Carolina where he tried to call a timeout with none left. Webber’s attitude and ability to give NBA teams amazing hope going into finals give him the virtual lock as the king of disappointing finality. Now he signs on with the Sixer’s. Wow! Could dysfunction be better paired? I submit to you that it could not!

Allen Iverson: Scoring master… Ball-hog extraordinaire, Allen stands alone as the most selfish player in the NBA. Tattoo-laden, locks-a-blazin’, and ‘tude ever-present, Iverson, shoots his entire team out of games. There is no doubt that he has talent: every game is a parade of circus shots and great steals, but watching his teammates stand around and watch the Allen-show, tells you all that you need to know about how the Iverson’s game plan is killing them. It’s not that Allen is bad, though it is apparent that he can’t be coached: he takes stupid shots, with players wide-open under the rim and unfortunately he makes many of them: this has built his ego to an intolerable level. Amazingly Webber and Iverson together have made for an odd little happy family. It remains to see if crazy can negate crazy.

Latrell Sprewell: Did you know he tried to choke his coach, P.J. Carlisimo, in the middle of a game no less? Enough said.

Paul Pierce: My last guy is a great player with a lot of heart, but firstly, he spells his name wrong ('Pearce' looks so much better!). The Celtics need this guy and his amazing playing potential. What they could do without are his total lapses and disappearances in key parts of the game and season. Pierce has numb-moments where his defense just doesn’t exist. He shoots long-silly shots and then yells at refs because they won’t call fouls. All the while, his team is looking for a little leadership, not an adult cry-baby. Come on man! Come to the game!

I have a couple of runner-ups: Kelvin Cato, Alonzo Mourning, and Anferne Hardaway (he still is barely playing) to name a few. There are many more… please join in.

-Doug

Forever Friends

I grew up in a small neighborhood with a small group of close friends. We did lots of things that were both fun and spooky. My best friend was Bruce Linnebery. Bruce and I were inseparable. One time we were throwing a broomstick in the air to see how high it would go. Bruce ended up watching the thing land right on his own forehead. He was a little mad for a while, but ten minutes later we were off to do other things.

My friends and I stuck together like glue. We even got to play on a little league baseball team together. Bruce played first, Greg Mite played catcher, and I was our second baseman. We were the three amigos, the Earp brothers, or Moe, Larry and Curly! We would play sports, get in trouble, trade comics and cards, get in trouble, share sodas, get in trouble, build forts, and, as I mentioned before, get in trouble.

Age changes the way we look at friends. For instance, there were no girls allowed in our circle. Girls were strictly forbidden but each of us, at one time or another, had a crush on some girl and would try to bring them into our circle... it always resulted in the girl crying, us getting spanked and the girl never talking to us again, yet we still kept on trying. Today, friendships are a lot more complicated.

In our circle of friends, we have all walks of life. From old to young, and male to female, we cover to gammut. We also categorize our friends. For instance, there are my friends at work, from church, from school, and from the basketball court. There are friends we refer to as just 'acquaintances'; and there is a group of good and best friends.

I have a few friends that share the label 'best' friend. I think it really depends on timing, my mood, their mood, my need, and their need to determine my best friend of the day. Each one of these people I would go to bat for, and they would for me as well. As a song says 'Friends who've cried for me, and friends for whom I'd die for!' these are the people who keep an eye out for you, and will stand with you to the end. My theory is that my best friends are not the ones that are there all of the time, but the ones that are there when I need them most.

There is also that group of 'friends' that we equate to parasites. These are the types that only call you when they need something from you. I associate them with the friends of the Prodigal son or the doctors who couldn't cure the woman’s issue of blood and took all of her money, leaving her broke and sicker than when the process started. This group leaves you disappointed and frustrated and thankful for your good and best friends.

In college, I had a friend who would call me, and the conversation was exactly the same every time. It would go something like: 'Hello Doug?... How are you doing?... That's great! Listen, I was wondering if I could get you to do __________ for me?!'. I'll give the girl some credit though. She had more backbone than most guys I know. Unforturnately, I could rarely turn down people asking for help, and I would reluctantly concede to donate my time.

Friendship is a funny thing. True friends are concerned with giving, not taking. You don't keep tallies any longer because it doesn't matter. You can be separated from true friends for months, years even, get together and it will seem like time has just stood still. True friends scratch deeper than the surface when they ask how you are doing because they really want to know and help if they can. True friends don't expect much, but are just as happy to be around you as you are around them.

I was thinking the other day about what kind of friend I am to God. There are times when my prayers are more like wish lists than true conversations with Him. Sometimes I pray and pray and forget to listen to God's response. When I hear others talk poorly about God, or mock Him, do I get offended, or do I sit quietly with my hands in my ears pretending not to hear the slurs? On the other hand, what kind of friend has God been to us? God has been far better than even a 'best' friend to us. He has stood by, nurtured us, built up our confidence and protected us from the enemies' evil plots.

I have nothing to offer God, but my heart, and He has offered me so much. God's tally sheet is simple: we owe Him everything, and we deserve judgment. There is nothing we can do to earn His love for us, yet it is given freely. Sometime I think we need to sit back and really look at our relationship with God. We also must realize that we can't manipulate God too well: He knows our motives and heart so bluffing isn't very effective. In prayer time, I am trying to make an effort to verbalize my feelings on issues in my life, rather than always asking and thanking God for His hand in my life. I do this with my best friends, why wouldn't I do this with God?

The reality is that all friendships are somewhat lopsided, but that shouldn't matter one bit. We can never repay God for His love, mercy, and grace shown to us through Jesus, yet God is our friend, and He has no tally sheet to those cleansed in the Blood of Jesus. God has allowed us to enter His circle of friends and for that I am eternally grateful.

-Doug

Motivational Growing

It was a long time ago, but the memories are vividly etched in my mind. Little league baseball was an experience that few should miss out on. I was eight and had never really even played catch before trying out for the team. I can remember my dad and I going down to Sears and buying my first mitt. It was a dark brown leather mitt similar to Ken Griffey's (Senior that is). I can remember walking down to the field for the first time. It was a warm, slightly damp day, under the shaded oaks of Rockwell International's intramural park.

Though playing baseball was great, it was not the thing I remember most about my time on the Rockwell Dodgers. It was our third baseman... well baseperson actually. Over two seasons, I played with three of the Reese children. The younger brother and sister were not much into baseball, but the oldest of the three, Kate, was one incredible ball player.

Kate could throw a bullet of a ball from third to first, and was as consistent a hitter as anyone on our team. As far as age, I was one of the youngest on the team, and she was one of the oldest, so two and a half years separated us. She constituted the first girl that I liked that was close to my age. Before that, there were only babysitters, my sister’s ballet teacher, and one of our neighbor's oldest daughters, a girl twelve years my senior. I really liked Kate and she really disliked me... Ah! Isn't love grand?! The next few weeks would be some the strangest times of my entire life.

Eight year old boys don't really know how to express feeling very well, at least compared to us men, and as a result, a lot of trial and error occurred. First I tried grossing her out: frogs, crickets, spitting food out, the usual genre of unveiled disgustingness. I found that Kate could not be phased by such things (I think she must have had older brothers or been raised by a pack of wolves or something), and her retaliations were always swift and brutal. I had many a baseball thrown at various parts of my body, not to mention fists, even a bat once. It was time to progress to plan B.

I tried to be really nice to her, but one of my friends found out that I liked her and told Kate: this was not good at all. I know this is a shocker, but girls can be really mean when they want to be. Kate would taunt me to the point of wanting to abandon love all together and hit her right in the nose. What saved me from her beating the tar out of me was that I was not allowed to hit girls. My solution was to make some silly comment and just run away. I was miserable beyond measure.

I finally decided that if she wouldn't like me, I'd just have to play better ball than her. That would show her! I had vision, goals and motivation: a strikingly effective combination. I progressed from a part time outfielder to getting the full time position and my hitting improved to the point that I even made the alternate position on the all-star team in spite of having such a poor batting average at the beginning of the season. This enthusiasm was climaxed when I hit an in the park grand-slam. It was an error-laden play that should have only been a base-clearing double, but this is little league and that’s all you need to know.

Kate never did return my affections, but by the end of the season, she had developed a healthy respect for me and she even stopped hitting me. As a result of my little crush on her, I became a much better player and in the following season, was one of the elite players in our little league organization. Kate moved on to the next older league and only her two younger siblings remained with me, but something really good came out of my misplaced motivations. I even survived the heartbreaking loss of Kate.

'All things work to the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose.' I've always fretted with this scripture since I don't feel like all things work to my good and I feel strongly called to God's purposes. All of our experiences are for a reason, even though there are events that I would have liked to avoid, there is a higher plan associated with wisdom and it is God who has hold of the map.

My first inclination is to look at the little picture rather than the grander scheme of things. Someone once told me that if you really want to see how important a news article is, wait a month and read it again, if it still has significance, then it is probably of value. As we are all too painfully aware, God's time table is not our own and God is also much more into fitting the seemingly random events of our life into His big puzzle. Focusing solely on our current state is much like the person who looks in their checking account and says 'Let's throw a party because I have a $1500.00 balance in my checking account, so I can buy some great food and drinks.' What this person has forgotten is that the rent is due in two days as well as the utility bills. It is the simple principal of cause and effect that we so often miss.

Our view of events must be panoramic. In other words, we must look at events now, the elements that led up to this point, and its long term significance. After doing these three things, we must be able to accept that, in spite of the circumstances, God is still in control of everything. This process is as hard as any other element of the Christian walk because it is the basic precept of faith. Faith is really the acknowledgement and accepting that something will be completed that we don’t have control over.

Faith requires us to accept experiences as building blocks to God's higher calling, realizing that they could be necessary for the overall good of His master plan. I'll probably never see Kate again as long as I live, but I've never regretted the experiences of that summer for a minute. It all worked to good, in spite of the hardship it caused me while I was growing up and going through it. I also eventually learned that giving girls frogs doesn't work too well, even in these modern times.

-Doug

Give It A Rest

As a kid, Saturday morning was the most important time of the week. There was no school, mass, I could wake up when I wanted to, no morning bath, and most importantly, no homework! I could stumble out of bed, dragging my comforter and pillow downstairs, get the biggest bowl in the house, a spoon, a gallon jug of milk, and my favorite cereal, plop down in front of the television and watch Bugs Bunny, Mighty Mouse, Josie And The Pussycats, and other cartoons, eating cereal and slurping the milk in the bottom of my bowl for hours.

By noontime, I was ready for college football. I would go up and change into one of my Ohio State outfits and come down and watch the game cuddled up next to my dad. I would sit back and watch Woody Hayes get furious on the sidelines, my dad would cheer about great plays and complain about referees' calls, my sister would be trying to catch our dogs to put them in dresses and have a tea party, and my mom would be busy preparing us lunches fit for kings. There was nothing particularly spiritual about these times, but it was a wonderful time in my life, nonetheless. We were the Joseph family, living in tensionless harmony.

After the 'big game', me and my friends would get together and play football in the backyard. We would pretend to be Cornelius Green, Pete Johnson or Archie Griffon battling Michigan or Purdue and winning of course. Before we realized it, it was getting dark and it was time to go home. After getting my mom to let one of my friends sleep over, we would play all sorts of games and stay up as long as we possibly could. These were the great days of restful Saturdays.

God rested on the seventh day. He sat back and watched His creation scurry about over the land He made with His own hands. Many people, including myself... especially myself, confuse a 'day of rest' with God's commandment to 'honor the Sabbath and keep it holy'. Going to Church on Sunday mornings is not exactly rest for me. Between having to get two children ready for church, numerous obligations, and the cares of life and marriage, the word 'restful' would not exactly be first on my list of adjectives to describe it.

With most people, vacation is also not rest. When I go on vacation, I usually need another week to recover from my 'restful' time away from the office. As I see it, there are really three big types of rest set out in the Bible: mental, physical, and spiritual. These categories are not clearly defined at all times and they definitely cross, but they are still identifiable.

Mental rest would be the type of rest, where you have separated yourself from the problems, and pressures of everyday life and focused on more pleasant and nonessential matters. Some people escape to their workshop and build things in this time, while others fish to get away. I like sports, but mostly I play my guitar to mentally rest myself.

Physical rest is the most obvious. This rest involves removing yourself from any physical activity. Sleep and lounging around on the couch are the more obvious types of physical inexertion. I like to write and work on my computer and both of these are physically relaxing to me.

Spiritual rest is one of the most overlooked types of rest in our life. I'm reminded of a song by Twila Paris named 'The Warrior Is A Child'. In this song, she says: 'Even soldiers need a quiet place to rest.' Darkness cannot dwell with light, and as a result, we live in a constant battle between the principalities of darkness and the Spirit which dwells within us. Even when we are winning the battle, the war takes its toll on our spiritual body. There needs to be a time when we can get alone with God and enter into the Holy Of Holies. We can enter this type of rest through worship, or quiet times with the Lord.

In the book of Proverbs it says: 'Trust in the Lord with all of your heart. Lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.' True rest is in the hands of the Lord. He is the rock in which we can stand on and He is the strong arms that hold us when we are weary.

Finding time for all three of these types of rest is imperative to maintaining sanity. Also, certain types of rest place stress on other types of rest. If I am playing sports, I may be mentally resting, but physically, I am exerting energy. All night prayer meetings rest my spirit, but they too tax my body greatly.

Finding balance even in rest is imperative. Rest is essentially an escape or solace from daily activity. As a self proclaimed workaholic, 'rest' is a word that I am not overly accustomed to. As a result, opportunities to rest are cherished and I look for ways to increase them all of the time: to getting back to sharing my Saturday mornings with my pillow, a blanket, good cereal and Foghorn Leghorn.

-Doug

What Could Have Been...

We all have opinions on what are the greatest teams of all time. We also can site what we think are the greatest seasons of all time: when a team had a miraculous comeback to win the championship, or perhaps, an unrivaled dominance for an entire season. But then there are the “what could have been" seasons: if tragedy wouldn’t have struck what could have happened. There are plays that have defined a season, not just the game, but transcend the game to define the entire course of the rest of a season.

This idea started with me thinking about my beloved Bengal’s: the second play of this year's wildcard game against the now Super Bowl champion Steeler’s. Carson Palmer injured his knee, cripling their very potent offense, which resulted in a 2-touchdown loss for Cinci’.

Here are some more examples:

Bostonians will never forget Bill Buckner. Game 6 of the World Series against the Mets, who were down 3 games to 2 in the series, defined what curses are made of. That ball trickling through his hobbled legs lost Boston yet another series: the final game was arbitrary.

Washington Redskins and anyone who has watched televised sports will remember that infamous 1985 Monday Night Game where Joe Theisman’s leg was snapped like a toothpick by Lawrence Taylor. Jay Schroeder came in to replace Joe, and connected on a play with Art Monk to give the Redskins the victory, keeping their playoff hopes alive. Schroeder performed admirably, but their loss to the 49er’s 2 games later ended their playoff hopes.

Yet another Bengal Story: In 1989, when they were in the Super Bowl, their nose tack Tim Krumrie broke both bones in his leg on a routine tackle. This was probably the 2nd most watch injury of all time (Theisman’s being the first). The two-time pro-bowler's monumental task was to stop one of the NFL's top runners in Roger Craig. Craig ended up running for over 100 yards and had 2 critical 1st-down pickup in the 49er's winning drive (both up the middle where Krumrie would have been).

What are some of your stories?

Which One's Stupider Game

Welcome game fans to today’s installment of 'Which One's Stupider'. Today we have three worthy contestants who will vie for that coveted title of which one is the biggest knuckle-head. Well, let's not waste anymore time and introduce our three contestants:

Contestant number 1 hails from the great state of Ohio, where he attended The Ohio State University, under the tutelage of Jim Tressel, he was a part of their National Championship team. The fame and glory of winning was clearly not enough for our wiley youngster so he decided to falsify police records, skip classes, drop out of school, and make up false allegations against his former team. But he didn't stop there! Not a chance! This guy decided to be represented by the ever-controversial Jim Brown and challenge the early-entry rule of the NFL. Unphased by his inability to get this overturned, he eventually made it into the NFL with the Broncos willing to take a chance on him in the 3rd round of the NFL draft. Showing up out of shape and a little slower than his college days, a minor injury helped the Broncos be motivated to cut him, leaving him, once again unemployed. Eventually this little go-getter ended up in the back alley of a bar robbing patrons at gunpoint. Let's have a big round of applause for our first contestant:

Maurice Clarett

Contestant number 2 is a man surrounded by success, an older brother in the NFL was all the role model this young little tike needed. Following in his footsteps, the youngster went to Virginia Tech. The potential in him was undeniable: many were quick to note that he actually possessed better skills than his brother. It was spring and the world was his, unfortunately there was the lure of young girls, minors to be exact. Frank Beamer is a man of principal, but the talented boy had the magical spark he needed. After serving a 1 year suspension, he was back on the team and looking pretty good, until he decided to intentionally kick a player from the opposing team in a bowl game. Frank's hand was forced and he cut him from the team. Still, there were plenty of NFL teams that would take a chance on this guy: after all he was the complete package. Later that week, he thought it was a great idea to point a gun at three teenagers in a McDonald's parking lot. Without further ado, let me introduce contestant number 2:

Marcus Vick

Our last young fellow also resides in Ohio. There was little indication of the instability of this player when he was in College at West Virginia. In a game with Rutgers this feisty fellow received two personal foul penalties and was ejected from the game. His coach benched him for half of the next game, saying that he was as disgrace to his teammates and the university. Undaunted, he eventually made it to the NFL draft where he was picked up in the third round. Being a rookie Wide Receiver on a team with two of the best in the NFL is tough, but this guy established himself as a reliable and talented third choice. On a routine traffic violation stop, this young scrapper was found having marijuana in his vehicle. The Bengal’s suspended him for a game for this, but he proceeded to perform well on his return. On the 2nd play in the AFC wildcard game against the Steelers, he got injured after making a spectacular catch from Carson Palmer. Palmer was also injured on the same play. Two weeks later he was arrested in Florida for brandishing a stolen 9mm gun with hollow-point rounds, pointing at a group of people, right in front of a Police officer. Let's waste no more time and introduce contestant number 3:

Chris Henry

And the winner is....

Childish Things

It was a normal day, like any other one, in the middle of winter. The skies were clear, blue and cold was the principal component of these northern, Midwest mornings. Outside, the ground was covered with the fresh white snow of the midnight blizzard that preceded it. In the distance the sound of the snow plow coming to clear the streets could be heard. This is where the bright hopes of young children could be made or vanquished. I can remember staring out the window of my room and praying things like 'Please God, let this snow be high enough to cancel school!'

I kept a yardstick in my room to measure the snow and before the sun had risen, I would run out in my underwear in twenty below weather to see if I would have to go to school that day. I would then go in, grab a cereal bowl, milk, and cocoa puffs, and sit by the television set, waiting to see if my school would be on the list that would be closed for the day. There was some sort of triumphant joy in having school canceled. It was as close to heaven as any kid could ask for: hours of sledding, snowball fights, hot chocolate, ice forts, catching rides on people bumpers, and endless colds ensued.

I wonder if we ever really do grow up, or do we just get older? Living in Florida, there are no more blizzards to blame, but hurricanes and tropical depressions have, on occasion, forced me to be absent from work for a couple of days. I still like cool 'gadgets' that whirr and buzz, but their price tags are a little more than the M-80's, Sling Shots, and balsa planes of my youth.

When I wake up, my hair still sticks every way except where it should be. I still insist that my underwear is just fine, though it may have more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese. Doctors and shots are still big menaces to me as well!

Every opportunity I get, I try to by my friend's children Legos so that "I can help them learn how to use them”: “Hey kid! Give me that slanted roof panel for my cool spaceship! What do you mean 'I'm hogging all the pieces?! And 'grow up'? I’m the adult here!” One big difference is that I pay for all this cool stuff myself!

Sometimes I wonder about my Christianity in much the same way. I feel like I am still battling the same problems that I have always had, since when I considered myself a 'baby Christian'. My vocabulary has improved, my head knowledge of the problem has also increased, but the fact is that these challenging areas still face me daily. Sometimes I want to scream and hide from them, but when I poke my head up, they are still there and usually they have brought friends.

God has called us to mature in Him and He has provided a sound playbook for doing just this. Does this mean we are going to have to face some issues that are going to humble and aggravate us? Absolutely! There is always a price to pay for growth, but remember that God is always standing there to nurture this process. Growth doesn't always imply that problems are going to go away either. Remember Paul's thorn in his flesh and God telling him that 'My grace is sufficient for you!' Conflicts will come and go, but God never leaves. In a way He is your worst nightmare as a parent: there is nothing you can hide from the Guy! He is omnipotent and omniscient. On the other hand, through Christ, He has opened a door that gives us freedom from the sin and sorrow of our existence. God's love for us is immeasurable.

And thus, the ultimate growth in Christ is to do the following things: accept fault for sin; repent of sin; ask for cleansing through the blood of Jesus Christ; and praise the Lord for His mercies. Growth is really being able to recognize our error, fessing-up to them, and humbly approaching the thrown. It is this and only this that will separate the men from the boys.

I still have a lot of growing to do, and I still look for ways to procrastinate my way though some of that growth. Whether I like it or not, God is going to complete His work in me. And while I'm still maturing though, I hope I can not lose sight of where I have been. God loves children, and even commands us to come as little children, trusting solely in His words and commandments. And thus, the child that dwells in me must coexist with the adult that I have become. These two forces oppose each other at every turn, but God acts as the go-between, smoothing temperaments and mending fences. And now, as an adult, I still hope and pray that the snow is deep enough to let school out, not for me, but for the child that I was and keep deep inside.

-Doug

Welcome Technically Challenged

When I was younger, I would read about children teaching their parents how to use their VCR and I would get a chuckle. It is ironic that in many ways I have become that technical moron. My VCR still blinks at 12:00 and I shy away from cars that have too many buttons on them. I breathe a sigh of relief when I am able to find and properly use one of the 5 remotes for our entertainment center. I impatiently press the ‘Menu’ button on the DVD player when all the Interpol warnings are shown on the screen.

This is not to say that I am not technical. I am a generator of technical components. In my profession I am pretty much at the top of the technical heap. I write code to control precision devices for NASA, amusement park rides, full-motion simulators, and even lay out my own circuit boards. I do all of this, yet I refuse to change my thermostat from the good, old, analog-based knobbed model to one of those new-fangled digital ones. I have a website for my company and it looks like a child created it.

Augustine once wrote that 'there is nothing new under the sun', I think he needed to attach a small addendum to this proclamation: ‘except for gadgets’. Gadgets are increasing in our lives and our dependence on them has grown as well. I am 38 and when I was a kid, I can't even imagine my parents deciding if I would really need to have my own cell phone or not? Their debate was to give me a dime to make a call from a pay phone.

I am starting this Blog, and I am once again behind the technical curve. As I fumble, please pardon my dust and I hope some of my stuff catches your fancy.

-Doug