Flashing Lights

“When tempted, no one should say, ‘God is tempting me.’  For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone;  but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed.”  James 1:13-14

This last spring I had the good fortune to travel to upstate New Hampshire on a business trip.  It was an absolutely gorgeous week and nature was truly thriving in late spring weather.  Every day the sky was clear blue with big, puffy clouds bumping along.  The breeze was gentle and there wasn’t a hint of raindrops.  Everywhere there was the smell of green grass and the sound of insects buzzing.  A walk at lunch was the most I got to experience the wonder of nature in spring, since the rest of the time I was holed up in an office, working hard away.

One evening I had a chance to get out of the town where I was working and instead visit one of my colleagues at his home.  He and his wife lived about 20 miles out in the country in an old farm house.  The drive out gave me a chance to see rural New England for the first time.  On arrival we enjoyed a drink in the back yard and came inside when the mosquitoes got too bad.  She made a lovely dinner and after eating we relaxed until long after the sun went down.  As I got into the car to leave, his last words were to be careful of my speed.  He said the police in each little enclave between his house and town would certainly be actively looking for speeders.

So I headed out, a little unsure of myself.  The curving road was unfamiliar and I had to concentrate just to see which way it turned at the end of my headlights.  I was constantly on the look-out for speed signs.  It seemed the road was just a continuum of different speed zones.  First it was 55mph, then slowed to 45mph approaching a tiny village, then 25mph in the village.  Then the speed was up again until the next village.  Around every corner I was worried there was a speed limit sign I wouldn’t see in the enveloping darkness.  I passed one police car hiding behind a tree with his lights off.

I was coming out of one village where the speed limit had been 30mph.  I was looking carefully for the sign increasing the speed limit but hadn’t seen it yet.  I could see at least three cars in my rear view mirror so I slowly eased down on the accelerator and brought my speed up to 40mph.  As soon as I did I discovered the car directly behind me was a police car.  I pulled over and waited for the inevitable speeding ticket for going over 30mph.  Then things got worse.  I couldn’t find the contract for my rental car, and there was nothing in the glove box to help.  What’s worse, the speed limit was actually 45mph and I was stopped on suspicion of drunk driving because I was going so much less than the speed limit.  In the end it turned out fine after I explained my situation to the officer and he found that obviously I had not had anything to drink.

Some people live their life as if God were the police officer of the universe, hiding behind every rock and tree, waiting for each of us to make a mistake.  They go through life they way I drove that night, gripping the steering wheel in fear of making a mistake, sure that any infraction will be immediately punished.  They assume God has a thick ticket book and is trying to fill it up every day with as many citations as possible.  They might even think it is hopeless to try and live a life with God, since sooner or later they will make a mistake and God will be there to haul them off to some kind of spiritual jail.  The reality is that God is on my side.  I do make mistakes every day; “sin” to use an old fashioned word little spoken anymore.  What gives me hope every morning is that when I choose to live my life with God, it is like driving around all day with Him in my passenger seat.  Oh, and He’s my lawyer.

[PhotoCredit:davidonscott15 & sam t. s.]

Can We Get Started Already?

“The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness.  He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”  2 Peter 3:9

This last week I was summoned for jury duty.  Fortunately it came at a time of the year that is reasonably slow at work and neither did I have a vacation planned.  I know a lot of people complain about jury duty, but the one previous experience I have had with it was pretty positive.  My instructions were to be at the courthouse at 8 o’clock in the morning.  So I took a book with me and went to find the juror’s waiting room.

I signed in and found a seat at the quieter end of the waiting room.  There was a man sitting near me that was already complaining to anyone who would listen that he was tired of waiting.  The woman in charge of signing us in came on the loudspeaker and gave some further instructions about signing in and about the form that each of us needed to complete.  The man complained some more about waiting.  The lady in charge then played a video for us from one of the judges.  On the video the judge talked about the importance of the courts and the jury system.  He reminded us we had an important part to play and asked us to approach our jury service with the seriousness it deserves.  After the video was over the man near me was complaining again about how long we were having to wait.

After about an hour the lady in charge of our waiting room called out a list of names to go to one of the courtrooms for jury selection.  The man near me disappeared and I was glad he was gone.  It hadn’t even been an hour yet, but he was complaining as if we had been locked in for a whole day.  Several times during the morning the lady in charge would call out a list of names, sending the people up to a courtroom for jury selection.  Each time she started calling names I stood up, expectantly.  While I didn’t want to complain, I was starting to get a little anxious.  I was hoping that I could get started and either be selected for a jury or sent home.  I get that way a lot.  It could be the start of a very long car drive, making an oral presentation at work, or initiating a difficult conversation of an interpersonal nature.  I frequently find that I have an attitude of wanting to start and get the whole thing over.  Sometimes I want to get it started so bad, that I am not really thinking about whether it is actually the right time to start or not.

I am really glad that God is not like me.  I just can’t see God getting impatient or anxious about when some event in our grand universe is supposed to start.  I can’t see God getting nervous and deciding to get something started just to get it over with.  Instead he is patient so that everything happens at just the right moment.  God wants every single person to have every possible chance to be saved.  While God is waiting for people, I guess he is probably waiting for me to learn more about patience too.

[PhotoCredit:RaeA & Joe Gratz]

Chasing Pigeons

“There will always be poor people in the land.  Therefore I command you to be openhanded toward your brothers and toward the poor and needy in your land.”  Deuteronomy 15:11

This last week I spent almost two days at an engineering conference in San Jose.  I was sent by my employer to make a presentation about the software we develop.  Many people at the conference us it, or could use it in their work.  So it was a good chance to demonstrate some of the new features we had been developing during the last year.  The conference was held at an absolutely superb hotel right downtown so I didn’t mind a night away from home.

In the morning I was preparing to enjoy my breakfast.  The conference organizers had provided a table with a wide variety of muffins, bagels, and croissants, along with fruit juice and coffee.  I had picked out several items and poured myself a glass of juice.  I found a window where I could look out at the small park across the street.  I was about to lower my head and offer up a short blessing for my humble meal when I happened to look over the park.  I noticed a man at one of the drinking fountains, and he appeared to be Mexican.  At first I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing.  I eventually realized that he was brushing his teeth at the drinking fountain.

The man’s clothes looked pretty dirty even from my remote observation point in the hotel.  I quickly surmised that a man in dirty clothes brushing his teeth at a drinking fountain in a park was most likely homeless.  I must confess that this realization by itself did not appreciably effect me.  But everything changed a couple of moments later.  It changed when I realized that the little girl nearby in the pink coat was with him.  She was probably his daughter.  She was maybe two years old.  I realized I was probably watching a homeless father and daughter start their day in the only bathroom accessible to them.

The realization of their homeless condition should have been enough to motivate me to action.  But my heart didn’t completely sink away until the man pointed at some pigeons on the ground.  The little girl started chasing them away and I’m sure must have been squealing with delight.  I wondered if she even knew it wasn’t normal to be sleeping in a park and brushing your teeth at the drinking fountain.  I decided I had to do something.  I decided that a few extra things from the breakfast table I had just left would be what I could manage.  Surely no one at such a fancy hotel would even miss them.  Yet I was strangely nervous as I considered picking up some bagels for the man and his daughter.  I would have to walk past the bellman in his fancy uniform standing guard at the front door.  It would be unavoidable for him to see me leaving the hotel and walking across the street and into the park.  I wondered if he would get mad at me for taking extra bagels.

What I was feeling would not subside and I knew I had to go through with it.  I had to try and take some food from the conference out to the father in the park.  I just hoped it wouldn’t be too bad if someone yelled at me.  You might think it was a noble thing to do, or at least the right thing.  What haunts me is that I don’t think I would have done a single thing about it, except for the little girl in the pink jacket chasing pigeons.  Jesus Christ has called me to more.  Much more.  I am praying that next time I respond quicker, and with less concern for what happen to me if I lend a helping hand.

[PhotoCredit:kojotomoto]

Shiny Shoes

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.”  Romans 8:1-2

I learned how to polish my good dress shoes by watching my dad.  He had a job where he dressed up every day with a suit and tie, before the invention of Casual Friday, and before Casual Friday became the standard for every day of the work week.  I can remember sitting with him on the back step of our house while he polished his shoes.  He would do it almost every Friday.  He had been wearing them all week to work and would shine them up to be ready for church.  When my much smaller shoes needed to be shined, he would help me do it.

I never have been as regular about shining my shoes as my dad has been.  It isn’t for a lack of equipment.  I have a shoe shine kit with leather conditioner, different colors of polish, different kinds of brushes, and buffing cloths.  I have everything I need to keep my shoes in top condition.  But my poor shoes usually get attention only when they degrade to a truly unseemly state, or I have a special social occasion that requires I look my best.  I can never make them look as good as a professional can, and so I often wonder why I should even try.

About two weeks ago I went down to the mall after work to buy a couple of new shirts for my work wardrobe.  I went straight from work without stopping at home to change.  There is a place at the mall where they will shine your shoes.  Mine where looking particularly pathetic that day, so I decided to have them done.  I got up in the chair and mumbled an apology for letting nice shoes look so bad.  I asked the man if he would just do the best he could.  I suppose I expected him to lecture me on the proper technique for shoe care, but it never came.  He just went to work with soap and water to clean them, and then several rub downs with leather conditioner to try and revive them.  They looked nearly brand new after he finished buffing the second coat of polish.  When he was done, he looked at me and said, “See, these are still nice shoes.  Very good.”

I have been thinking that I often treat God the same way.  My life slowly degrades a little every day until it is a mess.  I could reconcile to God any day, any time.  But I start feeling embarrassed about how things are falling apart.  I want to pretend that I am strong and have it all together.  I don’t of course so things slowly spin out of control.  I suppose from the outside that I look pretty put together, but inside I cannot fool myself.  Eventually things get bad enough and I go back to God, head down, and embarrassed to be coming back again.  Never once has God laughed at my trouble, or lectured me, or told me I deserved it for not following His commandments.  Every single time He cleans me up and tells me once again that He loves me.  God sure is good, all the time.

[PhotoCredit:respres & Moriza & Monsieur Paradis]

Little Children Dancing

“He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.’” Matthew 18:2-3

Last week at Crossroads I was near the back of the worship center. I had a chance to watch everyone during the songs at the beginning of the worship service. All of the adults were standing and most were singing along with the worship team. One of the songs was a favorite of mine so I was singing along too. On one side a couple of people had a hand raised toward heaven. But most were just standing there and half the men had at least one hand in their pockets. It was all very nice, and well, orderly.

In the back of the worship center there was a completely different kind of worship happening. Several of the children were dancing around in large circles and singing. I’m not sure if they knew all the words, but they were singing just the same. Well, really they were half singing and half yelling out to God. And they were dancing. It was quite a difference from the adults up front that were standing sedately and singing the words in perfect cadence, if not quite perfect pitch.

For a while now I have been thinking about what Jesus said, that I have to become like a little child. I think it is so typical of many of the sayings Jesus left for us. Just when I think I have it figured out, I discover it might have had a second, or third, or fourth meaning. There are layers to what Jesus said when he was on Earth. Maybe this year I am ready to grasp a meaning that I wasn’t prepared to learn last year. Last week I was thinking again about what Jesus might have meant when he said I must become like a little child.

The children at Crossroads that morning were dancing about with a simple and pure joy that I long ago lost from my life. I suppose I decided that I have to grow up. I figured that little kids run and dance, but adults don’t do silly things like that. I guess I took it to heart when someone told me that adults are mature and measured as they live their lives. But what if Jesus was saying that I need to express joy in being close to God? What if God smiles when I try to dance and sing, just like a proud daddy watching his little girl at a ballet recital? What if God wants me to act younger at the same time I am learning to think older? I kind of think so. And that is going to be a hard thing for me to do because I have always been better at thinking than at playing. I’m not even sure where to start finding more joy in my life. Perhaps all of us adults need to find some of the kids, hold hands, and let them teach us how to dance in a circle. I think maybe God is starting to smile a little bit already.

[PhotoCredit:Richard Messenger & david.nathan.cox & adwriter]

On The Road Again

“Now when Daniel learned that the decree had been published, he went home to his upstairs room where the windows opened toward Jerusalem.  Three times a day he got down on his knees and prayed, giving thanks to God just as he had done before.”  Daniel 6:10

This week I have been away from home on a business trip.  It is a part of my job to travel about four or five weeks each year.  Sometimes it is to go to meetings or a conference, but this week it was to coordinate some work with a colleague located in another state.  Sometimes it is just easier to get work done together and without the distractions of my phone ringing or new email messages arriving every few minutes.  So last Sunday I went down to the airport and caught a flight to Mississippi.  Tomorrow I will return home after a week away.

There are parts of traveling that I really enjoy.  I have been able to see some beautiful parts of America.  I have been able to enjoy regional cuisines that we do not have at home in California.  I have gotten to see how other people live differently, and possibly better than I do.

There are also things that are really hard about being away from home.  I have a routine when I am at home.  During breakfast I always read from my Bible.  I have a little book I use that has a scripture reading for each day, and also highlights different places in the world where missionaries are working to reach people with Gospel message.  I have a special time of prayer before I leave for work.  I usually take my meals alone so I have plenty of time for more than just saying Grace; I have time to actually talk with God.  In the evening I have yet more time to look at the scripture reading that my small group is studying and spend some time praying again.  While it isn’t a lot of time when I add it all up, it has become part of my routine over the last year and I do look forward to it.  I truly enjoy it and can’t imagine going back to life without it.

I must admit that my routine falls apart pretty quickly when I am traveling.  I always bring my Bible and I know I can pray to God from anywhere.  But somehow it just isn’t the same as being at home.  When I am eating with colleagues, I cut Grace down to just the bare minimum.  My Bible sits on the nightstand mostly untouched.  I hurry through my morning prayer time so I can get off and meet my colleagues earlier.  God was able to use Daniel in amazing ways during his lifetime.  I suspect God will have a hard time using me for anything more until I can learn to keep my routine with Him, even when it is inconvenient or I am out on the road.  Oh Jesus, how I wish I could be more consistent with You.

[PhotoCredit:drewski2112 & JacobEnos & Hvnly]

My Pile Of Rocks

“Joshua set up the twelve stones that had been in the middle of the Jordan at the spot where the priests who carried the ark of the covenant had stood.  And they are there to this day.”  Joshua 4:9

I was lucky to spend this last weekend camping in the Sierra Nevada instead of home in Sacramento where the temperatures were creeping up and slowly cooking everything outside.  It is a trip that I have been organizing annually for a couple of years.  Each year I keep a list of the people coming, take care of shopping for the food, and try to keep a semblance of order over the cooking.  On Saturday we go for a hike along the lake and sometimes see a Bald Eagle cruising for fish.

Saturday afternoon is the time out I take during the weekend.  I hike off by myself to a lake that I discovered a number of years ago.  There is no trail and it is a little hard to get to.  I have never seen any evidence that other people go there so I can treat it like my own private outdoor sanctuary.  It is a great place to spend some time on Saturday afternoon by myself, away from the group.  It is my Sabbath rest during the weekend.

This lake is special to me for more than being a great place to relax, take a refreshing swim, and just resting in a place where an insect buzz is the loudest thing around.  It is special to me because the second time I was ever there turned out to be a formative spiritual experience for me.  I can still remember getting out of the water after a swim and feeling compelled to praise God.  I am normally a very calm and measured person.  It is not in my nature to be charismatic and sing or pray with my hands raised over my head.  But on that day I felt compelled to praise God in that specific way.  I suppose it is probably the most pure moment of praising my creator that I have ever experienced.

I have returned to that lake many times since that day of praise.  Every time I have hiked over the ridge above the lake, I have wondered if that time I would be able to praise God like that again.  I wanted to go back again and again hoping it was the place where I could praise God in a less inhibited way.  This time I went back with the same hope I have always had; to experience it once again.  But it didn’t happen this time either.  I left as I always have… disappointed.

I have been reflecting on that expectation and disappointment since I returned.  I realized that maybe I am thinking about it all wrong.  I have been going back to the lake year after year hoping to repeat something from the past.  But the past can’t be relived, only remembered and honored.  I am resolved that next time I return to my lake, I will celebrate what happened on that special afternoon a long time ago.  I will make it a monument to my relationship with God instead of a thing to be duplicated.

[PhotoCredit:keepwaddling1 & Mrs Logic]

But Is It Changing Me

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”  Mark 11:24

I have been praying as long as I can remember.  I first learned how to pray by listening to my dad pray.  We always had a prayer before a meal started, even if we were out at a restaurant.  We also would have family worship time together several times during the week and it always included prayer.  I attended a Christian school as I was growing up and heard many prayers there by my teachers.  And since my family went to church every week, I had even more prayers to listen to and learn from.  When I finally left home I was pretty comfortable praying in a group.  But my prayers were really just a combination of all the prayers I had heard before in my life.  I was a little like a parrot that learns how to talk by listening to the people closest to it.  I had not yet taken ownership of what I was saying during my prayers.

What I hadn’t learned yet when I first went out into the world on my own, was that there is a difference between praying in public and praying by myself.  I had learned how to stand up before a group of people and ask God to bless the hands that prepared the food.  I had learned how to ask God to be with the sick and those confined at home.  I could ask God to help us remember Jesus in the Christmas season.  I knew the words for asking God to protect us until we met again.   Those are all good things to pray about in a group, but I didn’t know very much about prayer that makes a difference in my own life.

Søren Kierkegaard once observed that “Prayer does not change God, but it changes him who prays.”  I have been thinking about that for a while now and trying to figure out what he meant.  I wanted to dismiss the statement by pointing to places in scripture where great men or women of God prayed for something, and God answered.  But my desire to get an easy answer, the one that would be convenient, couldn’t overcome my desire to get the right answer.  So I have thought about that statement for a long time now.  In the mean time I have continued to practice praying.

What I am beginning to see is that prayer does change me.  I am finding it is hard to be disagreeable with my pastors when I pray for them every day.  I am finding it is hard to ask God for something I want, when I am praying for a friend that needs a job.  I am finding it is hard to complain to God about my sore foot, when I am praying for a friend of a friend that has cancer.  I am realizing that prayer does change me.  I think that this month, my heart is a tiny bit closer to the heart of God than it was last month, and the only thing that has changed is prayer.  I wonder what else God still wants to change in me?  Now maybe that is something to ask for God to give me.

 [PhotoCredit:Dazzie D & It's Holly]

Can’t We All Just Get Along

“A new command I give you: Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”  John 13:34-35

This last Saturday was the first worship service in our new location.  In many ways it was the same as all of our previous “first” services.  But this was the first time we have been in a place that truly felt to me like a gift from God.  The building had not been rented in a long time and needed a lot of work.  There would be a lot of work to do before we could move in, but the more we prayed, the more it seemed clear that God was calling us to this particular location.

So the work began.  An expert had to be called in to bring the air conditioner back to life.  A glass contractor installed a new entry door.  Electricians were needed to bring power back to old sockets.  A carpet layer brought in his crew to cover the concrete floor.  The place was crawling with contractors and tradesmen for several weeks.

Crossroads members were also busy amongst and between the professional workers.  Every wall needed fresh paint.  The bathrooms needed some serious cleaning.  New furniture had to be assembled from flat-pack boxes.  Screens had to be hung for the video projectors and cabling for the sound system placed above the ceiling tiles.

I arrived on Friday evening with really only one task; hang several fire extinguishers on the walls in appropriate locations.  I had an idea about where they should all be, so that it wouldn’t be too far to get one and they would be in locations where it would be easy to install the hanging brackets.  I wasn’t in a particularly good mood after a long work week.  The last thing I wanted to do was talk with other people about where they thought the fire extinguishers should go.  I had my ideas and I just wanted to be left alone to put them where I thought best.  Then I found several locations moved for me, and discovered I had to go get new hardware after a couple problems with my mounting brackets.

Sometime between a run to the hardware store, and hanging my last extinguisher, I started to feel a spiritual conviction that I wasn’t loving my fellow church members that were also there working hard.  I tried to push the feeling away.  After all, I wasn’t swearing like many workmen are known to do.  I wasn’t throwing things at people that got too close.  I wanted to believe that I could keep my grumpy attitude to myself and still be “loving” on the outside.  But in the end I had to submit.  Jesus calls me to a higher standard.  Love is not just keeping a bad attitude from spilling out.  It is being, well, loving.  It’s hard work and I need more practice.

Burdened Down

“Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:1-2

Last weekend I was able to take a mini vacation to Lake Tahoe for three days. I was looking forward to seeing a play with friends and family on Saturday night. Then I was planning to spend the next two days alone camping and hiking. I love to go hiking so this was a real treat for me. At the end of the last hike I took off my boots and put on my flip flops. But sandals sure don’t protect your feet very well. I must have stepped on something packing up the rest of my things and my left foot started getting sore. The next morning it was painful enough to have me limping and hobbling around the office whenever I needed to leave my desk.

I was on the way back to my desk from the restroom when someone I passed asked how I was doing. Without even thinking about it I replied that I was doing ok. She didn’t say anything, but I suppose that with a limp it must have been obvious that I was not fine at all. The scripture came into my mind that we are to carry each other’s burdens. So later in the day when someone else asked if I was ok, I replied that my foot was sore and gave the short story. He immediately launched into a story from when he was 19 and stepped on some driftwood at the beach. His foot got infected and he needed minor surgery to make it all better again. In a strange way it was encouraging that I wasn’t the only one with a bum foot from time to time. And if he could come through surgery just fine, then surely the worst was survivable for me too.

Later I looked up the scripture about sharing burdens. What I read was not exactly what I was thinking on the trip back from the restroom. I had been thinking that as a Christian and a church member, I am supposed to help fellow members when they need it. You know, take someone soup if they are sick. Take care of the yard once in a while for a senior citizen. My recollection told me the text would be about how I can’t enjoy community with my fellow Christians unless I actually open up about the challenges I face. That is true enough. But that isn’t what the scripture is about. I read it very carefully again and realized it is talking about helping a fellow believer when they face a sin issue in their life. It is about helping them deal with the burden of a sin they just can’t shake loose. What’s more, it’s about being willing to accept that help myself. Whoa. That is a lot of community. That is going to require more authenticity than I am used to having in my life.

So, if I come to you some day and ask you to please pray for me, and please hold me accountable, would you please be kind? It’s hard to ask for help. And I promise to be kind when you come to me too.

[PhotoCredit:j3ku]

« Previous Page — Next Page »