Twenty-Four Years And Counting ... A Salute To One Of My Best Friends

Twenty-four years ago I encountered a stress inducing day. However, my stress was not the only thing that was induced. My wife was induced as well. She was nine months pregnant and scheduled to give birth to our third ... and last ... child. He was pre-named Christopher Tyler and the birth was a cake walk. I don't remember any of the pain whatsoever. It was a little messy though. And gross. But he was worth it.

Christopher put us through some interesting days. He was that wonderful flavor in life that you can't quite identify but you know it when it's missing. I could expose you to a long litany of things that he did that brought him close to going home to heaven earlier than planned but .... Oh what the heck ...

There was the time he got detention for telling his teacher to "put a sock in it."

Or the time he got in trouble in school and the principal made him draw a picture of himself saying "I'm sorry" and then take it home to get his mom to sign it and bring it back to him the next day. So Chris promptly went home, got in trouble and was grounded to his room. While there he faked drawing an "I'm sorry" picture for his mom. He presented it to her, totally melting her heart. He ... in his infinite wisdom ... asked her to autograph it for memories sake. She did with tears of grateful joy running down her cheeks. The next day he turned the signed picture in to the principal. He got away with it for several day until the principal, a friend of mine, mentioned "The Incident" to me. I had been out of town and was fairly sure I would have heard about this story. So I asked Debbie about it. Lights began flashing in her eyes and sirens began going off in her ears. He paid a dear price for that one.

How about the time he had his friends duck tape him to a stop sign to see what drivers would do when they came by? The first car? Yep. The police.

Or the time he and a friend made a cardboard cat with tin foil eyes and tied a string to it, leaving it laying in the middle of the street in front of our house. When the first car came by they pulled the string, jerking the cat to attention as the car came to a screeching and panicked halt. That car? Yep. A squad car.

Did I mention the time he went to work at a local golf course and ran over the golf pro with a golf cart? He informed us of the incident rather casually that evening. The golf pro was taken to the hospital after golfers lifted the cart off of him. He spent at least one night in the hospital. I'm not certain but I think he went into vinyl repair shortly thereafter.

I could go on but I think you get the drift.

Now let me tell you the most remarkable part of the story. God was working in Christopher's life from day one. Chris never puts up with "boring." He has a desire to blaze trails and do things his own way. (Did I tell you about the time he and his friends went "stag" to their high school homecoming ... in the back of a dump truck?) Today this twenty-four year old man is one of the most talented, creative, gifted, passionate people that I know. He is deeply in love with his "cutting edge" church and is learning more and more every day about his "cutting edge" God. And His Lord has honored that. Christopher is simply living out life the very same way that God built life into him. You see, God took all of these stories (as John said about Jesus at the end of his gospel, "Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contains the books that would be written.") and molded him into one of my best and most trusted friends. I love the spark in his eyes, the fire in his belly, the laughter that echoes from his mouth to my ears. We do things differently sometimes but that's because I've gotten old and crotchety and, honestly, his ways are almost always more fun. Chris use to learn from me. I think that, these days, more often than not I learn from him.

Christopher, you aren't the kind of person to read many blogs. But should you stumble across this one I just want to say, "Thank you for bringing great joy to your father's heart. I love you, son. ...Dad"

My Eye Is On The Sparrow

Today was a day of great experimentation. I joined friends after church for a nice lunch of Vietnamese food. I read the menu and understood nothing. NOTHING. I could not pronounce a word. Fortunately, each entree had a number next to it and a list of the items in the dish. Even more fortunately, Connie, my Administrative Assistant had already ordered, received her food, and it looked edible. she was still sitting upright in her chair. I do take these things into consideration when placing my order. So I joined Connie and ordered #41.

It arrived quite a few minutes later. (They flew to Vietnam to get it.) It looked ... wrong. The first clue was that it was in a bowl and Connie's meal was in a dish. The second clue was that it had long clear noodles in it that looked like "tape worms." I guess that's okay. You eat it and it should be able to eat you back. The first bite told me something was severely wrong. It tasted like ... napalm. Fire. My tongue turned a lovely hue of blistered. (Yes, blistered is now officially a color.) They asked me if I liked it and I smiled and nodded a "yes" through tear filled eyes. I ate for about 5 minutes and then the manager came out with a plate, took my bowl, and told me they had given me the wrong meal.

Oh.

This meal didn't look like Connie's either. There weren't any tape worms in it but I'm pretty sure I saw various parts of a sparrow. Like, oh, the claw? The beak? They tell me I'm wrong but I know a sparrow when I see it. God's not the only one who has His eye on them. And the meat had the distinct taste of bird. Don't ask me how I know this. I've lived a long full 53 years on this planet. This was a sparrow. And I ate my share. They offered to box up the rest but I knew I'd be compelled to bury it out in the yard someplace and so I just said a polite "no thank you," paid my bill and left.

Tonight some wonderful college students invited Debbie and I to supper after church. We went to a place called "White Cottage." That sounds so homey after eating lunch in Vietnam. I ordered the biggest, juiciest bacon cheeseburger I could find. I never ever eat bacon. But I wanted the pigs of the planet to know that I was not forsaking them in favor of fowl. I had them throw in an order of waffle fries for good measure. The conversation was great (i.e. insane.) The food had no beaks or claws. Just cow parts and fried vegetables grown underground. You know. American food.

My tummy is happy tonight. And a happy tummy makes for a happy me.

Do you suppose...

Do you suppose Jesus ever wished He had been born 2,000 years later? LIke maybe for the pizza?
Do you suppose the name "American Idol" bothers God?
Do you suppose Moses would wet himself if I could take him for a ride in my Mustang "top down?"
Do you suppose Noah had to put fish on board too?
Do you suppose my new book on "Facebook Evangelism" will make any money?
Do you suppose God ever messes with our heads "just 'cause He can?" (I would if I were Him.)
Do you suppose Uriah kicked David's butt when they met up in heaven? And if so, who did Bathsheeba cheer for?
Do you suppose God snickered when He thought up circumcision? 'Cause, honestly, it's not all that funny.
Do you suppose God made the world "middle aged" just to throw us off track with built in fossils?
Do you suppose I'd get more sleep if I'd stop getting up to blog after Debbie dozes off?

Elle gets her pie

I Am Barabbas - by Mark Batterson

I am reprinting some words penned by author Mark Batterson in his blog yesterday. I could not possibly say it any better than he does.

This thought keeps going through my mind today: I am Barabbas.

Imagine what that Friday must have been like for him. He was sitting in a jail cell awaiting his execution. He knew it was the last day of his life. It was the end. There was no hope. Then he hears the crowd chanting his name and the next thing he knows he's a free man. The charges are dropped. His life that was almost over starts over. And a sinless man named Jesus literally takes his place. He expected to die. He deserved to die. But his execution, in the sovereign plan of God, was scheduled on the same day Jesus was arrested.

If ever there was a picture of II Corinthians 5:21 this is it: "God made him who knew no sin to become sin for us."

I am Barabbas.

Why Good Friday is so very good

"Good Friday." What a strange name for the day that witnessed the execution of the Son of God. The beatings. The whipping. The mockery. The cross. The nails. The hammer. The spear. The tomb. The tears. The screaming. The horror. The clouds. The earthquake. And it goes on and on and on and on.

Evil seeming to win. Holiness seeming to face ultimate defeat. Joy nowhere to be found. Utter loss.

And then ... and then Sunday. Sunrise. Gleaming brightness of the resurrected Lord. Victory. Life. Eternity. Promise. Joy ever lasting.

Today you might be experiencing a "not so good Friday." Your life might be characterized by darkness these days. Pain might be your driving motivation. You might think that your future is to bleak to contemplate. Read these next words and allow them to penetrate deeply into your heart ...

IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THAT WAY! JESUS WINS! DEATH LOSES! BE PATIENT! VICTORY IS SURE! THE SNAKE IS DEAD ... BUT HIS TAIL STILL SWISHES! And today, if you know Jesus but seem to be facing more than you can bear let me assure you ... it's just the swishing of the snakes tail.

We win. Because of Good Friday. Because of Jesus. We win. We really do.

We really, really do.

Top 10 Subdivisions You Don't Want To Live In

Since we have begun our home search in earnest I have noticed that all of the subdivisions in our area (meaning in America) have certain things in common. Cool and trendy names. They all want to be called "Hunter Glenn," "Cambridge Estates," or perhaps, "Providence Commons." Who wouldn't want to live there?

All of that started me thinking. That's what I do. I think. it's a common thread that runs through the course of my life. And as I thought I realized why nobody ever asks me to name their neighborhoods. It is probably because I believe in truth in advertising. And so, with that thought in mind, I give you the top 10 subdivision names you probably don't want to move into.

10 - Foundations Crack

9 - Septic Runnoff

8 - Cellar Mold

7 - Stagnant Waters

6 - Rats Landing

5 - Mine Subsidence

4 - Sinkhole Estates (sister subdivision to Mine Subsidence)

3 - Cesspool Commons

2 - Crackhouse Courts

And the number 1 subdivision you certainly don't want to live in ...

1 - Squatters Rights

What's The Deal With That?

For the last year I've been following the adventures of a pastor's son who has been sailing around the world on a 29 foot sailboat. I have been living vicariously through him. Together we have caught tuna, fought off renegade waves, and met the natives on various Pacific islands. We've never met but we've had a blast together!

Then today I mentioned to my son that this particular guy was in Bermuda at the moment before finishing his global circumnavigation. He's taking a well deserved rest and then will sail on home. That's when my son said, "Huh. That's odd. I know him. And I just saw him here at church about an hour ago."

Huh? What's the deal with that?

Why I Miss Ohio

Yep. You heard me say it. There is something that I definitely miss about the Buckeye state. The land we call "Ohio." The only state so friendly that it says "hi" in the middle. See if you can follow me on this.

It started before I moved there. Debbie and I were driving with a real estate agent, looking for the house we never purchased. He pulled up to a stop sign. I looked at the house on the corner. Nice place. I especially liked the trees. Then I looked at the base of the tree. And I found ... CREATIVITY! I am not much of a botanical kind of guy but even I know that good flowers require good dirt. Evidently the guys dirt wasn't too good. So he imported "the right stuff." But gosh, you know how much work it is to move dirt around. And so the homeowner simply carried bags of good black dirt to the base of the tree, lay them down, split them open, and planted the flowers directly in the bag. it worked. The flowers were still growing there when I moved away 14 months later.

Then there was the Hicks family. I really love them! They are a tremendous couple and have great kids. And when I visited their home I found ... CREATIVITY! They have a tombstone in their garage. It was there when they bought the house, a little concrete cross stuck in a neatly hidden little closet door in their garage. Nobody was quite sure who was buried where and so they did the logical thing. They left it there. I can't argue with that logic. Besides, it makes them rather unique. Tom and Patty are the best! (Hi guys!)

Oh, and there were these two guys that had an apartment next to mine on the 9th floor. They were graduate students working on an internship at a local corporation. I came home from work one day, stepped off the elevator and found one of them throwing their clothes down the garbage chute. I just watched for a second. And then it hit me. I had found ... CREATIVITY! The guys roommate was downstairs catching the laundry and hauling it into the complexes laundromat. I didn't ask how they were going to get it all back upstairs. I was afraid it might have something to do with rocket propellent or trebuchets. (I so want my own trebuchet....)

But after all of that I do believe that this wins the award. I came across it tonight while surfing the news on the web. It seems that a gentlemen in the town of Newark, Ohio, about 100 miles south of where I lived, decided that he needed new transportation. He could not afford a new car. But it was important to him that he be able to access the local watering holes and it was too far to walk. And as I read about his plight I found ... CREATIVITY! I mean, who else would think of taking a bar stool and attaching a briggs and stratton engine to it? Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you ... the world first motorized bar stool!

Unfortunately our friend was driving his stool AFTER drinking. And he wrecked it. And in the process he hurt himself. And so ... he called 911. The operator asked him what his emergency was and he said, "I wrecked my bar stool." The police went to the scene. You guessed it. He was treated for his injuries and arrested for drinking and driving as well as driving without a license. And the bar stool? It will go up to 40 mph. The police didn't impound it. Perhaps that's the weirdest part of all.

You gotta love creativity.

Kissin The Horse

There is nothing in the world quite like the smell of a good horse barn in the spring! The horse hair ... the saddle leather ... the hay ... the ... well, you know. That other stuff. Mmmmmmm. Tonight I feel a little bit like Roy Rogers. I don't really have anything important to say but I'd like to encourage you to get out there and kiss the horse of your choice! This beauty belongs to the Hancock family. We only shared a few precious moments and yet ... it was as though our souls blended. We whinnied together!

Watching my son's youth group serve the poor in the inner city. Hockey on the glass. My daughter-in-law's birthday. Supper with The Amazing Elle and her mommy. Falling asleep every night next to my bride. Loving and serving God's people. Kissin the horse. A week doesn't get any better than this my friend ...

How A Day Works

Today was a day. I thought I'd tell you about it. But I decided to show you instead. So. Here it is ...



It began at this little quick mart. It's not the one I usually use on the way to the office but it served the purpose today. Caffeine was needed!


So I drove on to church all super charged with sugary syrupy goodness! I decided NOT to drive through this mans field.


The next stop was the building that holds the part of the body of Christ in Belleville called "Towerview." It's a pretty cool place!


When I arrived I came across the awesome maintenance worker we call "Caroline." We call her that because it's her name. She's the best!


Then came Connie and Mike. Connie is "Administrative Assistant Extraordinaire!" She also bears watching as she is quite capable of getting not only even but ahead anytime you try to trick her. Mike is the best youth pastor in Belleville. No doubt. Hands down. He loves his kids and they love him!


Then I went to Belleville Memorial Hospital to visit somebody who wasn't there. Brain cramp on my part. She wasn't checking in until tomorrow. Surgery on Tuesday. Oh well. I tried.


So I got back into "Emma The Mustang" and drove about 35 miles to visit a couple of my friends who have not been well. But first ... Walgreens. Because I had a head ache and they had Tylenol. I took its picture but, come on. You know what Walgreens looks like.




Then it was on to the Browns home where I spent some time catching up with Chris and Ashley. As you may know Ashley has been battling Leukemia for the second time. She's kicking it's butt. I am amazed by this woman. She's going to turn 20 soon and has been through more than most 80 year olds. And Chris? Two months ago he had a car accident and spent weeks in a coma. Well, as you can see ... he's doing very well. This is one amazing family. They are precious to me and I love 'em!


On the way home I was still fighting that head ache and so more caffeine was in order. This time it was from the #1 vanilla coke joint on the planet ... "Hit 'N Run. Ahhhhh .. It worked!



So I dropped Emma's top and drove home with the breeze in my face. I couldn't resist reaching over the window with my camera and taking my own picture through the windshield. At 65 mph. Upside down. I'm such an amazing driver/photographer.


Before climbing the stairs to the "love hovel" I share with my bride I had to take a picture of our new lake. It's not exactly Lake Erie. But it does mark the spot we currently call "home."


And then? Getting ready to watch a little "24" by warming up with the news, sports and weather. They tell me I'm the last person watching "24." That's okay. When I grow up ... I'm gonna BE Jack Bauer.

So there ya go. That was Monday. It wasn't a home run. But it wasn't a strike-out either. And there was more than I can really tell you about. I don't talk about meetings with people without their permission. So some of it just stays between us and Jesus. But I got to love people. I got to try my best to be Jesus with skin on. All in all ... it was a day ...

prayer and PRAYER

How often do you pray? That's a tough question because there is prayer and then there is PRAYER. You know the difference. Prayer is that undercurrent of conversation with God that you probably engage in on and off all day long. It is definite in its direction. I mean you know your utterances are directed upward. PRAYER is when you put everything else aside and direct all of your energies into talking to (or hopefully, "with") God.

If you are like me you pray all of the time. And once or twice each day you PRAY. Okay, I admit it. Sometimes a day goes by and I don't PRAY at all. It's rare but it happens.

Maybe the real issue isn't how often you PRAY. Maybe the real issue is how often you pray. Don't misunderstand, I believe in getting into a private place and being alone with God. But sometimes I wonder if the frequent quiet and subdued conversation uttered heavenward isn't more indicative of the condition of my heart than my intentional and planned time totally separated from the world and alone with God. I'm almost never really and truly alone and separated from the world. My cell phone isn't turned off. Text messages, emails, and phone calls can almost always get through. That's a shame but I'm just getting real and being honest.

I know that when it comes to my kids it was really important to me recently when, during a day of personal grief and crises they made specific time in their day to get in touch and make sure I was alright. I deeply appreciated that and it was huge in helping me get through that event. All three of them did that. One of them even got in the car and made the long drive out to spend some face time with me. Huge. Absolutely huge. But on most days a simple quick text message, email, note on facebook, or phone call reminds me of the depth of our relationship.

And honestly ... I just love that.

I'm not God but I am a dad. And I am passionate about my kids. And the touches mean everything. And I am God's kid and for some reason he is passionate about me. For some reason my "touches" seem to mean everything to Him. I guess I'm just trying to figure some prayer things out lately. I want to give God what He needs from me. Actually, I find it astounding that God would "need" anything from me. But somehow He seems to. I seem to feel His pleasure when I stay in touch. Sometimes for sixty seconds. Sometimes for sixty minutes. And I love it when He derives pleasure from something I do. It's ... beyond description.

I admit it. I'm a sucker for my Father.

Never Google Yourself

I googled my name tonight and found out that I (or perhaps those who share my name?) ...

Sell racing products. I'm too old for puppy love but I have a 20 year old girlfriend while cavorting with an 18 year old waitress. I offer legal services in criminal defense as a Texas attorney. I'm an expert at architectural glass products, music, and art. I am a securities litigations expert in L.A. I pitched and fielded for Detroit, both New York teams, as well as Montreal. I seem to have an alcohol addiction and I also dabble in crack.

And I died in Iraq. The trail goes cold after that.

I offer a sincere salute and thank you to the last Ronald Woods on the list.

A Word From Cindy Winters

Watch CBS Videos Online

Strength Personified As Only God Can Give

http://www.kmov.com/video/topvideo-index.html?nvid=341567&shu=1

13 RaNdoM THoUghtS aND wOrdS tHAt coMe tO MInD tONiGht

- +25 degrees in a St. Louis March feels colder than -14 did in a Cleveland January.
- Hazy
- Worth it?
- 2.8 year olds should sleep later.
- 2.8 year olds should let their grandfather sleep later.
- Soul sad
- Chocolate chips are meaningful in the redemption of joy process.
- Twitter makes no sense.
- Listless
- MAD, MAD, MAD
- I just learned that Sears Tower no longer exists. It is about to become "The Willis Tower." My childhood was wasted.
- I do not want tomorrow to come. Let us fast forward directly to Saturday.
- Next week I hit "reset" on life.

A time machine would be nice

If I had a time machine I would be a hero. There is so much I would do. I remember the entire "Back To The Future" dilemma about whether or not you should go back in time and change any events ... if you could ... because it would have profound effects on everything that happens afterward. Kind of like the old, "If a butterfly flaps its wings in Europe the movement of air, slight as it may be, will eventually have an effect on the weather in America." Yeah, well. I suppose that might be true. And changing an event that happened 200 years ago just might somehow mean that things would be different now. Like ... maybe I would never be born. I can live with that. (Joke intended ... wait for it ... wait for it ...) But I've never been one to think everything through before I take the plunge on something. That's one of my fatal flaws. I try to adhere to the biblical admonition to "count the cost" and I know it's always the right thing to do. But I still eat fudge, drink sugary drinks, fail to faithfully work-out, skip meals, over-indulge in subsequent meals, and I occasionally run with scissors just because I can.

My wife would say that I'm slightly impulsive though not as much as I use to be. And she would also say that I'm totally distracted, living life in rhythm with the glittery things that crowd in on my peripheral vision.

Guilty as charged.

What would I change? Well, off the top of my head Hitler would trip and fall into a blast furnace at a not-so-ripe young age. Scratch one holocaust. Michael Jackson would stay 10 years old forever because ... well, just because. The Cubs would have won the World Series in 1969, 1983 and most certainly 2008. I'm not being greedy but I could be because it's my time machine. Oh heck, throw in 2005 too. Sorry White Sox. I love you but I'm feeling the power and I have my allegiances. The first "Gulf War" would have been enough. 9/11 would have been thwarted when the box cutters turned out to be toys purchased at the Dollar General Store and the terrorists would have been turned over to the whatever union airplane pilots join. I'm not trying to be funny here. I think that would be just and fair.

But I think that one of the first buttons I would push would change the events of last Sunday morning at 1st Baptist Church, Maryville. FBC never has its choir remain on the platform after the music is over but I think I would have had chairs up on that platform. It would have been filled with a men's choir. And the men ... the men would have been known as "The Over Caffeinated Men Of The Illinois State Police Tactical Unit." I know it's a long name. I don't mind that. And honestly, I believe in a sovereign God. I believe that God called Pastor Fred home. And I believe the shooters gun jammed because Fred was the only one that God was calling at that time and place. But I'm just dreaming. And I have a time machine. And it has a button.

And yeah ... I would push it.

A time to cry

What do you say when you don't even have words to speak in the solitude of your own mind? What do you do when you know you should be able to fix something that is broken and yet reality says that it just cannot be fixed? Not by you. Not by me. What then?

A friend of mine died today. Okay, that is not really accurate. A friend of mine was murdered today. He was guilty of standing in a pulpit and telling people about the love and forgiveness of God. That's something that I do twice every Sunday. He was not walking down an alley or hanging in the shadows of high rise slums. He was in a middle class church in a middle class suburb talking to middle class people.

And a man shot him to death with a .45 caliber hand gun. The first bullet blew his bible into confetti like rubble. One of the next two took his life. And now a lovely young woman has no husband. Two charming and beautiful daughters have no father. A vibrant and growing church has no pastor. And the world is a much poorer place.

Why?

Because evil exists. Because it knows no boundaries. Actually, I think it knows the boundaries, it just delights in crossing them. A mad man in a state of rage trying to create a nuclear weapon to annihilate a city. A lunatic in a high school executing kids in random fashion. The face of evil in a place of worship attacking something that it can never be ... holy.

Evil.

The last time I spoke to my friend was when I called him with a difficult problem. I had to make a decision on whether to remain in the ministry I was serving in or move to the church I now serve. I sat alone by the lake in my car and asked God to bring a name to my mind. Somebody that I could call and find the voice of wisdom. My Father instantly brought my friends name to mind. I dialed his number and reached his Administrative Assistant. I told her who I was and what I needed. She told me that my friend was in a meeting but to hold on for a few seconds. In less than a minute he was on the line, interrupting his schedule, putting his meeting on hold, and giving me as much time as I needed to present my dilemma and ask my questions. And then he gave me stellar, Spirit - led advice. Time has proven that he was right. I told him that I owed him lunch. I never got the opportunity to pay up.

Evil got in the way. I know that we win. Someday. By the might of God as His own Son bled out at the cross.

But tonight ... tonight is a time to cry.

(late night addition .. a friend reminded me that I wrote this post <--(Click there ... the link works but won't change colors) about FBCM when I joined it. It seems like an eternity ago...

Thanks, Denise!

My friend, Denise, read the last blog post and created this awesome "wordle" on http://www.wordle.net/ for me. Thanks, Neeser!

Vanilla Fudge

I am in no mood to blog but there are some words I just want to say without having to put a sentence around them ...

-Vanilla fudge
-Chalice
-Carnie
-Epistemological
-Sabbath
-Dogs of corn
-over it
-slippery slope
-not legally binding
-puppy dumpings

They all fit together into one story but it isn't ready to be told just yet.

Wait for it ... wait for it ....