God is BIG and I play on His team.

We serve a really strange God. Strange in that He is not at all like us. Strange like "Wow!" Not strange like "weird." Sometimes it's a blow-out in the baptistry waders. Sometimes it's a little more serious. Sometimes He needs you to be in a particular place and He will go to great lengths to make it happen.

I went with debbie to her pulmonologist appointment today. You know, the lung doctor. Asthma has been beating her up lately. So she got checked out, got some new meds to help her over the hump, and then we moved on. First we visited with a family from our church who had a family member in surgery for a very serious work-related burn. The surgery went well, we prayed with them, and took our leave. I tried to visit a family having a baby in that hospital but I could not find them. And then I made a phone call to see if I could visit another woman in another hospital but she was going to be taking tests all afternoon. So those two things were not going to work. And so we made our way to Clayton. A friend of ours from Nashville was in town after having completed a speaking engagement. We were to pick her up at her daughters house and go grab a bite to eat together. On the way there I noticed a "joint" alongside the road named "Carl's Deli." Looked interesting. I made a mental note of it. We grabbed Sandy and agreed that Carls would cook our lunch. So I punched it into "Sophie the GPS" and off we went. I was in the middle of the worlds best pastrami sandwich when my "not-an-iphone" rang. It was my brother-in-law, Jim. I stepped outside to take the call. I was leaning against the glass window of Carls, looking inside at the people eating as he told me that he was admitting his wife, my sister-in-law, to St. Mary's hospital at that very moment. He wondered if we could come by. He ... they ... were having a very, very hard day. Alisha was in a lot of pain and Jim was hurting with her and frustrated by other events of life that he had been dealing with.

As he spoke I ran a mental list of hospitals through my brain. I knew I had been to St. Mary's before but not often and it had been years. Then I realized that it was in Clayton. I asked Jim if that was right and he confirmed that it was. I told him that we were in Clayton and that I was pretty certain that we were close. As I spoke I slowly turned to face the street. Cars and busses whizzed by. As they parted I focused on the sign across the street. The sign naming the building behind it. The building close enough for me to hit with a baseball. The building named ... "St. Mary's Hospital."

I didn't know what time Debbie's doctors appointment would end.

I didn't know that I would only be able to visit one of three people in local hospitals.

I didn't know my friend, Sandy, was still going to be in town today until she emailed me this morning.

I didn't know I was going to find time to pick her up and take her to lunch.

I didn't know Carl's Deli existed.

I didn't know Alisha was not well.

I didn't know Jim was going to call.

And yet all of those things fell perfectly into line at exactly the right moment to allow my "not an iphone" to ring as I ate my sandwich literally yards from the building where Debbie and I would be needed.

God is strange. God is big. And I am very, very glad He has allowed me to be on His team.

A Blow-out of Epic Proportions

I think that what I like best about being a pastor is the dignity ... the honor ... the never ending respect the position offers. Take this weekend for example.

Yesterday I had the wonderful opportunity of performing the marriage ceremony for a lovely young couple, Christie and Nick. Nick recently became a Christian. He is in the air force. He leaves for Afghanistan this week. And so he decided to marry his very-worthy sweet heart before he left. Yesterday ... Valentines Day ... was the appointed moment. It was a very small and very fun wedding! And this morning I had the privilege of baptizing them both. That's how we were kicking-off the worship service. And then I was going to speak on the scripture from Acts, "In Him we live and move and have our being." In order to illustrate the point I went to Wal-Mart and bought six gold fish last night. You see, gold fish live and move and have their being in water. I thought that the parallels were obvious. The gold fish were twelve cents each. Well, we all know how these particular water creatures are famous for expiring early. That's why I purchased six. I was hoping that at least one would make it until morning. When I woke up today five were still swimming. By the time I arrived at Towerview four were still with us. I was getting worried. I placed them on a roman-esque pillar next to the acrylic pulpit in the worship center and went to prepare for Nick and Christy's baptism.

I wore a suit this morning and so I took the coat off, kicked off my shoes, removed my cell phone from my belt, and dropped my watch in my coat pocket. I picked-up the fishing waders that we pastor types use to keep us dry so that we can get back into the worship center quickly. They were tough to get on. Really tough. It had been a while since they had baptized anybody at Towerview. The feet didn't want to bend. Odd. But I managed. I put on the white baptismal robe, prayed with Nick, and it was time to Rock 'N Roll.

I stepped into the water. No problem. I took another step down. Hmmmm. Water immediately soaked the sock on my left foot. This did not bode well. By the time I made it all of the way into the baptistery I felt water up to my calf. When Nick and Christie arrived at my side I was wet up to my knees. The inflow showed no sign of slowing down. I baptized Nick first. This airman is a big guy! He's all beef. Not an ounce of fat on him. He's in "one of those" units. A couple of fly boys in the church told me that he knew 20 ways to kill me. Well, yeah. I don't doubt that. But let's remember that it was THIS little preacher boy that pinned him under water.

BOO-YAH!

And then I baptized his new bride, Christie. She's a petite little thing and as sweet as St. Louis style Gooey Butter Cake. (Christie, that's a good thing, if you are reading this! Tell Nick not to get mad ....) But the point of concern was that by the time I brought her up out of the water I was nearly as wet as she was. And the reason was obvious. One entire foot of the waders was flopping back and forth, held on by one little piece of rubberized cloth. I was soaked from toes to belly button.

You know, when you baptize a person they just bounce up and virtually trot up the steps to waiting towels. But when you are wearing the waders and they are full of water? Well, it's one step ... wait for the drain ... one step ... wait for the drain. You get the picture? By the time I got to the top I was pretty much drenched. I asked for a towel and they gave me all they had. Two paper towels. That wasn't quite what I had in mind.

So at this point I did what any pastor worth his Sunday School Diploma would do. I entered the worship center. Dripping water with every step. Shoeless. A shorted-out lapel microphone in my pocket. Hey, my dignity was never worth too much anyway. As I approached the pulpit I looked down at my gold fish and it occurred to me. It is in the water that they live and move and have their being. And for this one morning ... the same was true of me. I WAS the sermon illustration! That's when I heard it. Laughter. From the throne. It was coming from The Great Laugher of Laughs. I can't help believing that the Father was elbowing The One who sits at His Right Hand. I can almost hear Him say, "Hey. Watch this. Belleville. Towerview. The worship center. This is gonna be so cool!"

The laughter must have rolled. And yea ... I had to join in.

Maybe

Maybe it was to teach me.
Maybe it was to instruct me.
Maybe it was to inform me.
Maybe it was to train me.

I just do not know.

Maybe it was to correct me.
Maybe it was to rebuke me.
Maybe it was to chastise me.
Maybe it was to reform me.

I just do not know.

Maybe it was to empower me.
Maybe it was to embolden me.
Maybe it was to arm me.
Maybe it was to equip me.

I just do not know.

Maybe it was to remind me.
Maybe it was to rekindle me.
Maybe it was to prompt me.
Maybe it was to persuade me.

I just do not know

Maybe it was to rest me.
Maybe it was to recharge me.
Maybe it was to unwind me.
Maybe it was to stop me.

I just do not know.

Maybe it was to break me.
Maybe it was to crush me.
Maybe it was to penetrate me.
Maybe it was to shake me.

I just do not know.

Maybe it was to befuddle me.
Maybe it was to perplex me.
Maybe it was to disorient me.
Maybe it was to bewilder me.

I just do not know.

And I do not have to know.

Deep must rest in deep.

Nurse! Scalpel!

So i almost performed surgery today. All I needed was a blue gown, some cool gloves, a nifty hat, and ... well ... I suppose a PhD from a prestigious medical school.

The day began with a flurry of hospital calls. In both cases wonderful little ladies had been sent for medical care for various reasons. It was my job to check on them, not to fix 'em.

After the first visit I hopped in Emma the Mustang and tooled on over to the next hospital, St. Elizabeth's. I had never been there before. I didn't have a lousy little quarter for the parking meters so I had to park in the high rise parking garage. I found myself entering the building onto the second floor. A quick check with the nice people at the information desk revealed that my victim ... er ... parishioner ... was on the third floor. Hey, I can do the math. One floor up. No problem. Except that after I punched the button on the elevator nothing happened. NOTHING. An orderly passed by and I asked if there were any stairs nearby. She pointed down the hall toward a glowing "EXIT" sign. I made my way over, went through the door, and ascended up the staircase.

That's where things went wrong. REALLY wrong.

I opened the door to the third floor and walked directly into a group of masked men scrubbing for surgery. They appeared very serious about their mission, what with all of the foaming and rubbing and the orange-ish glow on their hands and arms. And their I stood, under their gaze. My little "CLERGY" badge pinned neatly to my chest. Feeling very, very tiny.

I don't think they were impressed. I know I wasn't. I quietly ... slowly ... excused myself and stepped back into the stairway.

Ahhhhh ... I love the smell of chlorhexidine in the morning...

My close brush with imaginary death at the hands of Lake Erie... and I don't even fish

I thought I was all finished writing about Lake Erie. It's nearly 600 miles away and what else could I possibly have to say about it? And then several hundred people decided to talk a walk on it to catch some fish yesterday. I lived on that lake all of one winter and the better part of another and never ... not once time ... did I ever see anybody EVER walk out on it. Not for fish, not for fun, not for a stroll to Canada. Maybe people around Cleveland are just smarter but it didn't happen. I was actually a little shocked yesterday to learn from Fox News that people ... a virtual "city of people" ... had been out there to the west of my former home for a couple of weeks. Fishing. Searching for the elusive Walleye.

When the lake freezes it doesn't usually become just a flat piece of ice. It becomes "ice dunes." Under currents and pressure from ice floes blown about by the wind causes the bits of ice to wreck into each other and it becomes like one giant car wreck. I've seen some of them easily reach five feet high. And it appears that the tops can be razor sharp. Evidently that's not the case to the west. In order to walk out on the lake where I lived you would have to have had a total lobotomy. Of course, some people DO have total lobotomies. So I suppose it's possible.

But would you do it for a fish? All of this took place just to the west of Port Clinton, Ohio. That is where some of the people stuck out there on ATV's and snow mobiles traveled to in their successful search for uncracked ice to cross back over to the mainland. Port Clinton is also where my favorite fish joint is. Jolly Rogers. Best certified Lake Erie Perch I ever found. And you can get it for under $10. That's about $6,990 less than your typical funeral.

Dumb, dumb, dumb.

I was talking about that event tonight with some people at church. They had expressed interest in my Erie experiences and I was telling them about the joys of living 9 floors above the water in the dead of winter. That's when I remembered a particular evening that I had filed to the back of my brain. Probably due to embarrassment due to stupidity. I had not lived in Ohio very long. Debbie was still in Illinois. It was a VERY cold night with a VERY strong wind out of the north and a VERY large dump of snow was blowing in off of the lake. You could not hear the waves because there weren't any. It was all ice. I walked out onto my balcony wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. It felt good just to experience the raw power of God's raging storm. After just a few moments I went back inside, face frozen and, evidently, brain frost bitten as well. I grabbed Tess the Laptop, sat on the floor, and leaned against the double sliding glass doors to my balcony. All of the lights were off. When the lake is covered in ice it stays every light outside. Erie can be very eerie. I opened my electronic journaling program and began to write a letter to God. That's how I journal. I write and He reads. A lot was going on. I was missing my wife. I was a little lonely. Okay, I was VERY lonely. It was late. I was dumping on God. I probably wrote for the better part of 30 minutes. I just looked it up and read it. At least I think I read the correct one. Doesn't really matter. But when I finished writing on that cold winters night I closed my laptop and went to stand up only to find that I was FROZEN to the glass of the balcony door. Well, my shirt was frozen to it. The condensation had turned to ice, invaded my flannel and I was glued to the door. To add insult to injury the shirt was stuck to my back. I was, in a very real way, frozen 90 feet above Lake Erie on a stormy night in the dead of winter. Honestly, it was not hard to get unstuck. The back is strong but I didn't want to tear the shirt and so I pulled it off and then gently peeled it away from the glass.

So that was my dumb Lake Erie story. It's pretty boring compared to those who walk out ON that thing in the dead of winter just to pull in a few fish that you can buy on shore for just a few bucks. My life was never at risk. My dignity was bruised. My flesh was stinging. But the Coast Guard was not needed and I didn't loose anybodies ATV.

I really need to up my level of risk.
(Erie from space 3 days ago)

Just call me "Grandpa." Again!

I've stolen this little video from my daughter's blog. I don't think she'll mind!

Reality Confuses Me

They tell me that I live in O'Fallon. The sign says Shiloh. My church and office are in Belleville. Two weeks ago I lived in Sheffield Lake. It was only two blocks from Avon Lake. They called it all Cleveland. At that time I was staring at the massive ice cube called Lake Erie. Canada was on the other side. Now I can see the top of the arch in St. Louis peeking over a hill from my apartment balcony. If it should topple it would land in the muddy Mississippi. That is a river. Missouri is on the other side. I do not think they have many Canadians over there.

Can somebody please tell me where I am?

I don't know my own phone number though I have finally nailed down my address. Two weeks ago I lived in apartment 310 and now I live in apartment 309. So I only lost one apartment. How can that be when I drove 569 miles to get here? I lived off of interstate 90 and now I live off of interstate 64 so I think that I got demoted by 26interstates. But 90 merged with 80 which made it 170. 64 merges with 55 which rings in at 119. So maybe I lost 51 interstates. I just don't know. According to text messages received the village that I left behind now has well over two feet of snow on the ground. The village that I now live in has well over two inches of snow on the ground. And yet it seems to be the only village in this metropolitan area with any snow at all. Is this random chance? I somehow think not. I think that it is my fault. But please do not tell them.

I don't know my church/office address though I am able to drive to it. And I sit in amazement staring at the phone because everybody tells me to punch the green button but there are only red buttons. And when I punch them, well, people that are suppose to be there ... aren't. Please tell me where they go. I obviously don't hang up on them because other people have been able to retrieve them. So do they just float around the building, hopelessly stuck in the phone system until they finally wash out onto my desk? Somebody very nice empties my garbage can everyday. I am really grateful for that. Perhaps I will meet him or her someday. I would like to shake a hand and say, "Thank you!"

In the meantime I shall practice leaning on the constants. Obviously, "Jesus loves me" is the biggie. But sometimes I need the smaller ones as well. Like ... all Barnes and Noble's look the same. It feels safe there. Red means stop while green means go. QWERTY still works. A taco is a taco is a taco. Debbie still falls asleep in the middle of the amazing podcasts that I try to play for her. (Can you say, "heretic?" I knew you could.) Coke + Vanilla = Smile.

Anyway you slice it ... life is good.

Of Concrete and Cardinals With A "Shout-Out" To U-Haulers

Long live wall board and wood! After being out of our concrete cocoon for a solid week now I have come to recall a forgotten truth. Regular dwellings do not eeeccchhhoo cooo cooo ooo ooo ...

Oh, and it's really cool to eat at an honest to goodness real table instead of at a card table or on a random chair in the living room. And did you know that many Americans actually have a washer and dryer for their dirty clothes IN their living quarters! There is freedom in not having to drag an amazing amount of laundry down 9 (or 3) flights of stairs and pay a kings ransom to use the public laundry room in the basement of our old apartment complex. Lo and behold ... our little "love hovel" has a real washer and dryer! Whoa! What hath God wrought?

Today was the first day in my new office. So I did what any self respecting new guy would do. I turned everything around. Literally. Things point in different directions today. Why? Not sure. It just looked like it needed to be done. And tomorrow? I just might dictate a letter. Not that I have anybody that I need to write. Doesn't matter. Perhaps I shall send my thought off to the pope or Billy Graham or Zach Braff. I haven't decided. Tomorrow morning I will just know in some inherently correct sort of way. Did I mention that 5 people joined our church yesterday morning and on became a new Christ-Follower? I did? Just making sure. Cause it was a amazing morning.

And now about the super bowl. Bummer for Kurt Warner. He is obviously a stand-up guy. I was cheering for him right up till they showed a picture of Bill Bidwell in his luxury suite. Then I remembered ... the moving vans, the empty football field for years ... and I realized, I cannot cheer for a team this man owns. And so I immediately switched allegiance mid-4th quarter. I might mention that the Cardinal's WERE winning when I switched. It looked like a bad decision. Right up until that beautiful catch in the right rear corner of the end zone. Yo, Pittsburgh! Nice! Yo, Bill! Bummer for you, dude!

And finally, if you are reading this and you were a part of the amazing group of men and women that showed up one week ago to night to help unload a certain pastor's U-Haul, I have not said it loudly enough. So let me say it again ..T-H-A-N-K Y-O-U!!!!!!

ron .... OUT!

Time Zone Wars

After 15 months of careful consideration I have reached a conclusion.

It would be a walk-over. If the central time zone ever decides to attack the eastern time zone, the eastern time zone does not stand a chance. They are sleep deprived.

It works this way. If you live in CST you quickly realize that "prime time" television ends at 10 PM. The news comes on at 10:00 and lasts 30 minutes. Leno and Letterman? 10:30 PM until 11:30 PM. If you live in EST prime time ends at 11 PM. The news comes on at 11:00 and lasts 30 minutes. Leno and Letterman run from 11:30 until 12:30. That's 12:30 AM. Morning. Don't even think about watching Craig or any other truly late night program.

But here's the rub. Office hours start at the same time in most all offices. No difference between EST and CST. The simplest mind can quickly understand that those who watch regular programming in EST get one hour less sleep than those watching regular programming in CST. One hour per night. Seven hours per week. Three hundred and sixty five hours per year. That means that the average person in EST accrues 15.2083333 DAYS less sleep per year than those in CST. Over two weeks.

I slept two weeks less last year than I did the year before that. And honestly ... I'm rather tired. And I'm going to bed now. Turn off the lights when you are done, would ya. And if you need me tomorrow ... I just might be attacking Indiana.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #30

This sign will help a lot when you are being attacked at 3 AM at the rest area on I-70 in Indiana where it's posted. Maybe you could unscrew the sign and club your attacker over the head with it?

Bittersweet ... lakes & flakes. From a grateful Ragamuffin

It's late and I'm tired. Yet somehow I feel compelled to put into print some kind of synopsis of today. It was a weird one. Weird like in "unusual." Not weird like in annoying or disturbing.

Today I left a church family that I had come to love. It was hard. And yet when God gives a direction there is no turning back. At least that's what the old song says. And I don't argue with old songs. I also don't argue with God. That's a good way to lose.

Yesterday 3 of my closest rented friends and I loaded a 17 foot U-Haul truck. It took about 3 hours and it was bitter cold. I spent my time on the outside end of the proposition. By the time we finished, hugged our apartment manager goodbye (Hi Crystal! Hi Melodie!) I was frozen solid. Figuratively. I think. It felt literal. And so we drove to the hotel where we had rented a room for the night. My brilliant bride went to check us in while I parked the truck. When I got in with the luggage she has managed to suck-up to the desk clerk and got a free upgrade to a room with its own jacuzzi. Not the bath tub kind. The real deal. I spent a couple of hours there thawing out. Then she fed me Tilapia at the Outback. I love this woman.

After a nights sleep we made our way to FBCSL where I was blessed to have the opportunity to baptize 3 adults and speak to the people I have called my spiritual family for the last time. It was bitter sweet. The bitter is in the leaving friends. Those amazing young couples (you know who you are...) have become like precious gold to us. The sweet was in the baptizing ... the worshipping ... and yes, the realization that God is writing a new chapter in our lives. How good He is. How grateful we are.

It snowed from Cleveland to west of Columbus. I didn't order that and nobody that I'm aware of predicted it. Things like that just happen when you live in the wilds of the Great Lakes states. I didn't mind so much. You don't seem much snow in St. Louis. The lawn between my (former) apartment building and Lake Erie had nearly 2 feet on it ... knee deep stuff ... when I walked out to say goodbye to the lake on Friday. That's a lot of flakes.

And so tomorrow is ... tomorrow. There are nearly 300 miles to go. And then our new spiritual family will team up with us at our new (temporary) apartment and, under Debbie's direction, we'll set up housekeeping one more time. It's becoming a trend. But in this life a roof, walls, heat, light, food ... they are not "a given" for everyone. And so we are thankful to our God who so richly provides.

Sheffield Lake FBC'ers ... thank you for loving us. We love you right back. And our prayers are with you every day.

Tower "Viewers" ... thank you for accepting us into your family. We cannot wait to serve alongside you. We cannot wait to see what God has on the agenda. Let's get messy for Jesus ...

The Things That Define A Life

I've been thinking about life and time and stuff. I suppose it has something to do with packing (again) and preparing for a major, life changing move (again.) I keep walking to my balcony and looking out at Lake Erie. I think I am going to miss it. I know I'll never have a view like this from my bed again. Not until heaven anyway. (Will we have beds in heaven????) Today it's frozen for a couple hundred yards and then open water with the exception of mini-icebergs that float slowly by on route to their imminent death at Niagara Falls. Two days ago it was white for as far as the eye can see. After nearly fifteen months I still have not gotten use to this behemoth of a lake.

That started me thinking. (This is usually where the trouble begins.) What items do I have ... things I have accumulated ... that define my life? Some of them are in boxes scattered about my apartment. Some are stored away in "a secure location." Some are sentimental and some are practical. I'm not nearly as difficult to define as I would like. You'll see what I mean if you read "the short list."

Things that define my life (aka: my identity) in no particular order ...

1. "Tess the Laptop." We are close. I mean CLOSE. Everything I've ever known or written is stored in her cyber-brain.
2. Three wedding rings. True, I've only been married once but enlarged knuckles necessitated a changing of rings. One is on my finger. One hangs around my neck with my dad's WWII dog tag. And one is my dad's. All of those items are precious beyond any dollar amount.
3. My bricks. One from "Old Comiskey Park" and one is an original part of the Wrigley Field wall. I have derived great pleasure from "my teams." So I'll add my autographed Ferguson Jenkins jersey. Priceless.
4. My "smart phone." It's smarter than i am but that's not much of a trick. The reason it defines me is because it allows me to communicate with those I love.
5. Emma the Mustang. If you know her the reason is obvious.
6. The pictures that have, and will, adorn my office walls.
7. Sweats and my favorite New Balance sneakers that don't have backs in them. They are the epitome of ... relaxed.
8. Airplane tickets. If you have known me for the past year you totally understand.
9. Music. I can't make it, sing it, or usually even name it. But the stuff on my ipod keeps me sane. It stays on "shuffle."
10. Ray-ban wrap around, prescription, bifocal sunglasses. (Yes I did.)

There is more but you've taken enough of a beating for one night.

I can write the blog but I can't write the title. Go figure.

I really don't know how to blog about this. But my entire world seems to know so what's the point of ignoring it? None that I can see. I have not blogged much in several months and it's been because I don't know what to say. God has been working in me and, until now, I have not had the permission or the right to talk about it. And so I just ... shut-up. But now I guess it is time to speak-up.

Last Sunday I resigned as the pastor of the church that I have led since November 4, 2007. That's not a long time to pastor a church. Not at all. So why would a person leave after just 14+ months? I can only think of one good reason.

God told me to.

Yes, I'm one of those whack jobs that actually believes that God communicates with His people. If you are a frequent reader of this space you already know that. There are multiple ways that I believe God has revealed to Debbie and I that we are suppose to take this action but I am not going to go into that. When God speaks to you it is not required that you tell the world what He said. Unless He tells you to. And He has not told me to do that. And this is between my God and I. That's about the best I can do. I hope that is enough.

I know that I have caused pain in some people that I hold very dear here in northeast Ohio. I can't possibly spell out how sorry I am about that. Yet it is not something that I can fix. I am constrained by the love of God. Compelled by His grace to obey His every Word. No, I am not perfect at that. But I am better than I use to be. If I disobey God in this situation then I invalidate everything that I have tried to teach here since I arrived. "Walking-out" what I have taught requires that I "walk away." Rather odd.

We will be here with our church family near Cleveland through the morning worship service on January 25th.

On February 1st we will join our new family at Towerview Baptist Church in Belleville, Illinois. Anytime God opens a new chapter of life it is exciting. And that is exactly what I feel. It's such a paradox. Possibly hurting people in one place in order to obey God and hopefully bless people in another. Closing one chapter and beginning another. I never expected this chapter to be so short. But when you "sign-on" to serve King Jesus you relinquish the right to make many of your own decisions. The options are clear. Obey or disobey.

I choose to obey.

Words For Today (by Rainer Maria Rilke)

"All-loving Father, sometimes we have walked under starless skies that dripped darkness like drenching rain. We despaired of starshine or moonlight or sunrise. The sullen blackness gloomed above us as if it would last forever. And out of the dark there spoke no soothing voice to mend our broken hearts. We would gladly have welcomed some wild thunder peal to break the torturing stillness of that over-brooding night.

"But Thy winsome whisper of eternal love spoke more sweetly to our bruised and bleeding souls than any winds that breathe across Aeolian harps. It was Thy 'still small voice' that spoke to us. We were listening and we heard. We looked and saw Thy face radiant with the light of love. And when we heard Thy voice and saw Thy face, new life came back to us as life comes back to withered blooms that drink the summer rain."

Oh yeah. Now I remember...

Now I remember. Snow. It's that white stuff. And, contrary to public opinion, IT'S A BLAST!

It began for us as we were arriving back via SWA today. Our skilled and highly professional pilot told us that we were 50 miles west of Cleveland ... and would be for a while. Seems like circling out there in nowheresville was a good idea because the airport had suddenly and without notice become iced in. Okay. In that situation I'm all about circling. I like sledding as much as the next guy but not with twin jet engines strapped to me.

We finally landed and were "fetched" by a friend and his daughter. (Thanks Jim! Thanks Taryn!) I wasn't paying much attention because Jim was driving and he's a stud. (Thanks Jim!) Then, after getting dropped at our apartment I was sent for food (Thanks Debbie!) That's when I repented of all the lousy things I said about our Trail Blazer back when gas was about $4 per gallon. (Thanks Trail Blazer!) 4 wheel drive rocks!

So we've got about a foot. Maybe a bit more. And my lake ... my lake looks like a rerun of "Ice Road Truckers." And it's downhill from here. The picture below was taken without flash because, well, it's 11 PM and like daylight outside (Cleveland daylight isn't like most of the worlds daylight. It's ... darker.) Oh, and my garage is the last before you get to it. Hey... (Thanks brakes!)

Oh, one more thing. The red dot down on the bottom of the picture? It was a UFO. Strayed onto my balcony. I squashed it like a bug. The world owes me.

A Truly Bad Idea

Life Is What Makes You Old

Do you ever just feel plain old ... old? I am talking about the kind of old that has nothing much to do with years or chronological things. I am talking the kind of old where you suddenly think ... I really HAVE seen it all. There really ISN'T anything new under the sun. I am not certain when that happened to me. I sat today and I made a list ... an actually written list ... of the oddest, most bizarre, least likely to happen things that I have witnessed in my lifetime. And mixed in with it I included the oddest, most bizarre, least likely things that I have had to do in my lifetime. It is quite a list. I wish I could share it with you. I cannot. You might be on it. But here are a few just to make you smile or frown or whatever you feel appropriate.

I've pulled people out of caskets. Not dead people. Live people. People who wanted to crawl into the casket of a dead loved one.

I've tackled a person who was trying to commit suicide by jumping from a high place.

I've confronted people who have had the ability to fire me. More than once. And no, none of them fired me.

I have spoken to 6,000 people at once.

I have spoken to less than 10 people in a talk prepared just a diligently as the talk for 6,000.

I've flown on a plane where I was the only passenger.

I carry in my brain the confessions of people who, if the confession was made public, would be sent to prison.

I held the hand of a person as they prayed to receive Christ as Savior only to watch them lapse into a coma minutes later that they never woke up from.

I've changed a dentists socks. (Don't ask.)

Speaking of dentists I've had all of my wisdom teeth pulled ... twice. (Again. Don't ask.)

I watched one of my former "volunteer youth staff members" drop to a knee and let a girl throw up in his hands because we were in a very nice church sanctuary and there was no place else for her to throw up. (I never shook his hand again.)

I have traveled (by car, van, or bus) the equivalent of around the world at the equator 3 times while on youth trips and mission trips.

I have baptized (by total immersion) a man while he sat in his wheel chair.

I have had my life threatened (by 2 very large men) in the slum of a southern city while helping a dad chase down his run-away daughter.

My final words to my last living parent was an intentional lie to make her not worry, feel better, and go to sleep. My lie accomplished its purpose. She died the next day and I was not there.

I have been "dog bit for Jesus" twice in as many months. The last bite was while I was praying with a woman whose husband lay dying in another room of their home. Their dog bit me while I was talking to the One that made the dog. I did not stop praying. He eventually let go. (The dog. Not God.)

I have patrolled East St. Louis in a State Police Cruiser from 10 PM until 8 AM. I wore a bullet proof vest, knew where the shotgun was and was authorized to use if if necessary.

I have held a baby that had been dead for less than 2 hours.

I have observed part of an embalming.

I have been chased by dogs in a nursing home.

I have prayed over people while anointing them with oil only to watch them fully recover. I have prayed over people while anointing them with oil only to watch them die.

I have stood on the top of a 12,000 foot mountain during a snowstorm accompanied by lightening and thunder.

Martin Luther (the theologian who lived in the 1483 - 1546) once said, "If you young fellows were wise, the devil couldn't do anything to you, but since you aren't wise, you need us who are old." I kind of understand his sentiment. I get his point. He died at the age of 63. That's not really old but I suppose it was in his day. I am that age minus 10. But after compiling my list today ... I've been feeling very old indeed. This probably was not a good way to prepare a merry heart for the celebration of New Years.

When I die I'm instructing my wife to publish my entire list. Tonight I have a headache and, after speaking twice today, I am rather tired. So keep checking back. You never know how quickly the thing might wind up in print. A "tell all" blog. Starring ... You?

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

A High Definition Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hotel
The hallways were empty, the rooms didn't sell
The TVs were flat screen and the pictures were clear
The hot tub was bubbling lending holiday cheer

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Otis Spunkmeyer cookies from the desk clerk so dear
All warm and quite chewy with chocolate to spare
The odor, quite wondrous, did waft through the air

I locked my door and dead bolted it tight
Shoving the "never disturb" sign on the knob to the right
The lights were turned off and the TV dimmed low
If HE should show up I don't want him to know

That I am awake though I'm missing my tree
My stocking is stored at a friends house for free
The fireplace in the lobby holds a chimney that's fake
And HE can't get down it, HIS neck HE would break

So tomorrow I'll get up and I know what I'll do
I'll unbolt the flat screen, remove every screw
It'll fit in my car with the seats pushed way back
I'll wrap it in pillows, it's screen I won't crack

And Santa will thank me for this saving grace
If HE should pass by us it would be a disgrace
I must take the flat screen, you see it's my duty
And thus I'll make off with this pirated booty

In Jesus name I pray ... Amen

What's With "Non Pariels?"

I'm sitting here munching on some holiday candy provided by one of those school things. You know the type. Some kid guilts you into buying something to support his club and you wind up paying like $15.00 for a 4 ounce bag of chocolate. They are pretty good. All decorated with red, green, and white sprinkles. Decent chocolate too. These are called "Non Pariels." Which makes me wonder. "Non?" What's missing? What did they leave out? Other than the fact that I paid $15 ... did I get ripped off of a special ingredient? Can you buy "Pariels?" You know, Non Pariels wiithout the "non?" Wait. How can you leave out the "non?" Isn't that the same thing as leaving out something that isn't even there? Which would make it "Non Non Pariels."

I must go lay down now.

It Ain't About The Grinch

It ain't about the Grinch. He's in reruns. It ain't about the bearded dude with the sleigh. He's a nice thought though. It ain't about the tree. The plastic ones never go away and the real ones go away all over your carpet way too soon. It ain't about the presents. You will never have enough to satisfy. And God knows it ain't about me. I hear a chorus of "amens" on that count!

And I am so glad.

If it's not about Jesus ... well then, it's not about anything. So I thought I'd just stake my claim right here on the world wide web. I'll have more to say about it later. Probably even today. But for now ...

It's about Jesus. Make a note of it.