The "Eyes" Have It

I have been having "fun with my face" this week. If you have been hanging around this place in the woods very long you may remember that I also had fun with my face last January. Well, what smote my left eye last winter came out of hibernation to smite my right eye on Friday evening. We were with our church family at Busch Stadium watching the Cardinals play the Padre's ... I mean the Pirates ... and having a great time. Never mind that I really thought we were playing the Padre's until the 7th inning when someone pointed out that I kept saying "Padre's" when I should be saying "Pirates." Well hey, I wasn't watching the game. I was talking and eating and doing the important things that Cub fans do at ballparks in August. I really did think it was the Padre's way down there. But that's not important. Somewhere around the 5th inning I looked up towards the lights on top of the stadium and ...oops ... some huge weird shaped spider web like thing floated in front of my right eye. Crud. I knew immediately what had happened. I covered my eyes with my hands and turned my eyeballs real fast from the right to the left. Yep. I saw "lightening" on the right part of my right eye. This is technically called a "post vitreous detachment." Or so I assumed. I didn't want to ruin a perfectly beautiful evening so I only mentioned it to the person sitting next to me (Hi, Diana!) and my wife, Debbie. There's not much you can do with this. You just deal with it and it begins to calm itself down after about 6 months. The problem is in making sure that a post vitreous detachment is really what is wrong. Because it also could be a torn or detached retina. And if you don't jump on that quickly, well, you just flat out go blind. And that's not a good option. I still own DVD's that I haven't watched. That's why I found myself at the ophthalmologists office yesterday at 10AM. I might mention that ophthalmologists hate me. They like to hold me down in the big chair and TOUCH MY EYE BALL. And if I have one motto in life it is simple and clear ... "Touch my eye and die." I broke my rule but only because Debbie wouldn't let me go rogue. So they squirted this stuff in my eyes to make them dilate. This basically makes you pretty much blind anyway so I wasn't sure why I was even in the office in the first place. It opens your iris all the way so that light can just dance its way in and have its way with you. And after the iris is all the way open they take out these lights that are pretty much borrowed from the sun and the focus it directly into your eyes. Rob Bell says there really isn't a hell. Rob Bell has never had this experience. But because you are a big boy you don't grab the doctor by the throat, strangle him, and hide his body behind the dumpster. But you want to. Yesterday Dr. Brilliant couldn't see all of my retina because there was too much "debris" inside my eye. He really said that. I have debris inside my eye. I thought debris was what you found in the wake of a tornado or perhaps a nuclear mishap. But I have it inside my eye. And because Boy Wonder couldn't see behind the debris he got his magic Q-Tip and began poking ON MY EYE. He was trying to make the debris move away so he could tell if my retina was torn. Or perhaps he was trying to tear my retina himself. I couldn't really tell. But either way he failed. So I had to go to a retina specialist today. Actually, I think these two guys are room mates. I believe one sets the patient up and the other slams him the next day. It took two highly educated brainiacs to tell me that I didn't have a hole in my head. Well, at least not in my retina. Thanks, boys. The next yachts on me. Now I can resume living. I can read and watch TV and follow the bouncing ball with both eyes. I can do everything but get kicked in the head by a mule or take up sumo wrestling. And that's a real shame because I was really wanting to sumo wrestle a mule. It will have to wait 6 months when I go back for final clearance and the opportunity to pay off the doctors condo on Maui. So it's been a good week over all. Things float around in my field of vision in both eyes. That's kind of fun because I play games with them, trying to get the tangled up with each other or trying to spell Albuquerque with them. It's really cool to do that when I'm driving. Even cooler when I'm texting and driving. Coolest of all when I'm texting, driving, and have dilated eyes. And in the dark I have lightening inside of my head. When I turn my head really fast or my eyes really fast. Now think about this. Once you discover this fact ... how hard do you think it is to resist making it lightening every 15 seconds or so? It's nearly impossible. I have the power over lightening. I'm still working on the thunder. Oh. And I'm not going blind. So there's that. But dude, when I paid ... I didn't even get a sucker.

Up And To The Right

Tonight I sat around a table with 3 men who want to change the world. They do not have impressive degrees in theology or a vast library of books on churchology. They do not need either of those things. They have something far more important and far more rare.

Passion.

We polished off burritos and nacho's and soft drinks but barely noticed. I've been "doing church" in a leadership capacity since I was 19 years old. That's 37 years, sports fans. And I don't know that I've ever worked with men like these before. If you cut them they'll bleed leadership. If you allow them to they'll pepper you with questions about God and the church and they'll give you their exhilarating thoughts on how to live life while loving their families and serving their God. If you listen closely you will catch their enthusiasm. You cannot help it. They are the kind of men you have prayed for and dreamed of for so many years. They will laugh with you as you tell of your mistakes and you know that they'll remember and bring it up again when you least expect it. But you don't mind. They do it because they love you and they let you be real. You don't feel compelled to fake anything around them. You don't have to act like a car salesman moonlighting at the nearest God dealership. There are areas of leadership where I positively stink. Yeah, I know. It's hard to believe but it's true. There are things I should accomplish in a more timely manner. Things I should pay closer attention to. And they know that because, like I said, they are born leaders and they know an "oops" when they see it. But they seem to understand that the reason I often let those areas slide is not laziness or incompetence. It's because I love people and I want to be in their homes or in their hospital rooms or sharing a meal with them in a restaurant. And that means that sitting at a desk drives me positively crazy. And so some of those "important" things just remain on my back burner because I'm having too much fun with the people that are on my front burner. The people of my church. The people that are not "of my church" but will be soon because God just tossed them through the door and they found out that they can get loved there and they can find community there and they can develop a real walk with God there. And we sit and talk about what might be ... what could be ... and how maybe, just maybe, if we are smart and listen to the whispers of the Holy Spirit and do all of the things that God tells us to do ... just maybe they actually will be.

"Up and to the right." That's where we are going. Get your graph paper out and put a dot on today. We know where we are. And we know where God is calling us. He's calling us to go "up and to the right." We are called to live life large, to love even larger, and to follow Jesus the largest of all. We are called to lay down the silly agenda's of this world and take up the holy calling of being princes and priests. I want to do it with men like these. Men who speak kindly of their wives and who get sparkles in their eyes when they talk of their children. Men who hold their eyes on yours when a pretty girl walks by because they are focused on what matters ... not the frilly, anemic, lust-filled lies of life. They are focused on going "up and to the right."

The trail we walk around here these days is getting more interesting by the day. The hill is steeper and the distance longer. The view causes our hearts to beat more quickly because it begins to remind us of the home that has been prepared for us that we have never seen. But we know we'll get there. We know the way. The way is up. Up and to the right.

30 for 30

Tonight's topic, little chillen, is prayer. And God. And praying to God. And praying to God and hearing HIm answer. I believe in praying specific prayers. None of that "Dear Lord bless everybody on the planet and don't let any one get sick or die. Please let the good guys always win and the bad guys get what's coming to them." That just won't do. I'm more in the camp of those who pray like this ... "God. Excuse me please, sir. I have some things that need your attention. My lawn mower will not start and snakes are closing in on my house from the creek at an alarming rate. I'm not sure if there is water in the gas or the spark plug is bad or what, but YOU know. So would you please fix it. And if you choose not to fix it by the 77th pull on the rope I'll assume you are not in the lawn mower repair business today and I'll make other arrangements. Not a problem, God. But please grant me one thing. STOP THE SNAKES!!!!!"

See the difference? It's profound.

Now I am a pastor I have plenty to pray about. Seldom does a day go by without somebody asking me to pray about something for or with them. I do my best to always say "yes." The only time I say "no" is when it's obviously not something God is going to be interested in doing. I will not pray that you win the lottery. I will not pray that your crack dealer stops faking you out and selling you talcum powder. I will not pray that the Cardinals win the World Series. Obviously those things are outside of God's will. (Ok, the last one was a joke and the Cardinals are proving themselves quite capable of shooting themselves in the foot so let's just let it go.)

I do like to pray for my church. Well, actually it's God's church but He loaned it to me and you know what I mean. I pray all sorts of things for Towerview. I pray that God would use us as His hands and feet. I pray that He would be gracious to us and teach us to follow more closely to His path. I pray that more people might come into His Kingdom through our church and, therefore, that our church would grow numerically. I pray those things and many more daily for Towerview Baptist Church. And I know God hears each of those prayers. Sometimes He seems to say "yes" and sometimes He seems to say "no" but I always pray anyway.

And then sometimes He shouts.

Yesterday one of our deacons came to me before our morning worship service and told me that since my wife and I arrived at Towerview 29 new families have joined. That made me happy. Now I'm not stupid enough to think that they came and joined because of me. Seriously. I know better. Nobody (except for my wife) knows me better than I do and I most certainly would not join a church just because I am the pastor of it. That last sentence sounds odd. But I think you know what I mean. I'm just really honestly NOT a big deal. As a matter-of-fact, I'm not sure that I would join a church that would have me as pastor. (Which is similar to what I tell Debbie when I remind her that I almost didn't marry her because I would not marry a girl that would stoop so low as to marry me.) Anyhow, I'm on my second career. My first lasted for 32 years. I'd say that's long enough to call something a career, wouldn't you? My first career was as a youth pastor. I was passionate about it. I loved (almost) every minute of it! And now I"m in my second career. I fully intend to spend 32 years being a senior pastor. I've only got 4 years in so there is a ways to go. I have to pastor until I'm 86 so get use to me Towerview.

But I digress.

Anyway my deacon friend Bob told me that 29 families had joined since Debbie and I came on February 1, 2009. That was 30 months ago. And you know what happened yesterday morning AFTER he told me that? :) Do you? A family joined our church.

How cool is that?

God has given us 30 new families in 30 months. I-JUST-LOVE-THAT! He is loving and blessing us! He's going bonkers over His kids at The Tower! And He clearly has confirmed for me that I am precisely where I am suppose to be. Not that I was doubting it. I wasn't. But now I am even more certain than I was before. We've gone 30 for 30 at The Tower, Viewers!

I mean ... how good is God anyway?!

Playing For The 4th Quarter

I am not a "Tweet-a-holic." Yes, I have a Twitter account. (Feel free to "follow me." I have little of substance to add to the Twitosphere but my Twitter name is "Rotola.") Today I came across a tweet written by a friend attending a conference for leadership training in Chicago. While listening to a speaker she wrote, "Sometime when you live out a tough calling, you get beat up (like Jeremiah.) Are you available for tough assignments?"

Tough calling.

Beat up.

Tough assignments.

Is that really what I signed on for? Back when I was 13 years old and I accepted the invitation of Jesus to join His band of ragamuffin followers I knew nothing of what lay in store for me. I was just amazed that God would take the time out to speak to me, much less to die a horrible death in my place. I was stunned to realize that He had a plan for my simple life. I figured that if God is good (and He is) then I had best get on board with this offer. So I signed-up to be a full fledged Christ-follower.

Since then there have been truly great days and experiences. There have been truly horrific days and experiences. I had no clue about the highs and the lows waiting for me. I just knew I wanted to know Jesus because He wanted to know me. And I most certainly wanted to get in on this whole heaven deal.

I had no idea that this deal would cost me anything. I fully expected to live a life of my choosing. God had other ideas. It took Him a few years to get His point across but once He did I signed on for the whole adventure. I have made enemies. I have lost friends. Sometimes those I have trusted the most turned out to be the least trustworthy. I have presided over many deaths. I have physically intervened to stop at least one sure-fire suicide. I have taken a dead baby out of his mother's arms. I have seen a teenager hanging from bare rafters. I have stood next to more caskets than I can remember. I have performed weddings for marriages that didn't last a month. I have been on a first name basis with judges, child abuse counselors, DCFS case workers, and police chiefs. Seldom because anything good had transpired to bring us together. I have been threatened with physical violence both in slums and suburbs. I have chased down run-aways. I have sat on the side of an expressway in the Appalachian's at midnight with teenagers on one side of me and a broken down touring bus on the other. I have spoken to 6,000 people at once and I have spoken to 6. I have prepared just as diligently for both.

I could go on talking about my "tough assignments." But I could never ever top Jeremiah. Two huge scriptures come to mind when I think of this guy. The first one is "Before I created you in the womb, I selected you; Before you were born, I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet concerning the nations…See, I appoint you this day Over nations and kingdoms: to uproot and pull down, To destroy and overthrow, To build and to plant." Wow. "Appointed" by God to be "over" to "uproot" to "pull down" to "destroy" to "overthrow" to "build up" and "to plant." That's quite a job description, eh? And then God told him, "They will fight against you but will not overcome you." I'm sure that must have been good to know. Nobody knows for sure how Jeremiah died but many have speculated that he was the one referred to in Hebrews 11 who was "torn asunder."

Nice. Nice.

I figure that it won't be long before I enter "the 4th quarter" of my life. I'm shooting for 80 and then I'll be ready to be done. So at 56 I've got 4 more years left in the 3rd quarter. I rather wonder what the last quarter will be like? I've watched enough football to know that you get your tiredest in the 4th quarter. I've also learned that it is in the final quarter that the game is won or lost. I want to play full throttle to the very last play. Nothing else will do. I want to win. I want the ring.

"Sometime when you live out a tough calling, you get beat up (like Jeremiah.) Are you available for tough assignments?" There isn't even a hint of a doubt in my mind ...

Dear Pai Rae ...

Oh dear granddaughter. The world has gone and done it to you already. You are not even two yet and already you feel the sting of loneliness and the confusion of change. It seems that your precious sister has deserted you on your morning drive to day care in favor of kindergarten. You must ride in the back seat of mom's Jeep all by yourself. Even your once-a-week buddy, Judah, has deserted you for another set of friends in another day care! If you only had the ability to master the english language I'm sure your cry would be, "No fair!"

I hate to break it to you, child, but you are right. It is no fair. And I hate to break this to you even more ... life itself is no fair.

Your mom said you just leaned your head on the side of your car seat this morning and cried. Gosh I wish I could have been there. I would have cried with you. Or ... maybe better yet ... we could have figured out a game to play. Or maybe we could have held hands. Oh! Or we could have eaten Oreo's with wonderfully cold milk! And we would never have told your mother. Nah. She wouldn't be mad. But let her get her own Oreos. :) Sometimes a grandpa and a granddaughter just have to keep their secrets, ya know?

Listen to me, little one. There are going to be days when the playground feels a little lonely. Sometimes your friends just won't act like friends. And it's true that, on occasion, families are even far apart for a season. Those things will wound your heart. And I'd do anything ... ANYTHING ... to protect your heart. I'll do my best to always be around but it's possible that someday I won't be. So I want you to remember something. Something really important.

Today I walked through a huge museum and looked at airplanes and space ships. They were all famous. It was a fun place. And then I came across one particular space ship. A "capsule" really. It was nicknamed "The Friendship 7." One day nearly 50 years ago a man climbed into it all alone. His mom and dad were down on the ground. His brothers and sisters were too. Most of his friends were hundreds of miles away. And when this guy got into his space ship the lit the fuse on the rocket under him and he zoooooomed off into outer space. And for a few brief orbits around our planet he was really truly alone. l As alone as a person can be. But the man had one thing working for him. He couldn't see his friends but he could still talk to them. They had these really old style radio things that were all scratchy and garbled. But they could still understand each other. And the man in the capsule said that those voices were a bit of "home" to him while he was way out in the middle of no where.

That's kind of the way life is, Pais. Sometimes friends go away. Sometimes they might even get all messed up and stop being your friend. I'm sorry, little girl, but I have to tell you that it happens. But here's the thing. If you are ever all alone and you need someone to love you ... someone to talk to ... please feel free to punch the right numbers into your own phone (or your mom's!) and I will move heaven and earth to be there for you. Lot's of people will. But do me a favor, please. Keep me near the top of your phone book. Because you, sweet Paisley, will always be on the top of mine.

A sorta old man love you ... a lot.

These are a few of my favorite things...

Things I am most thankful for...

1. God
2. God's love.
3. God's love shown through His Son.
4. God's love shown through His Son's sacrificial death.
5. God's love shown through His Son's sacrificial death applied to my life.
6. Grace
7. Grace that is sufficient.
8. Grace that is sufficient for me.
9. Grace that is sufficient for me to forget the past.
10.Grace that is sufficient for me to forget the past and not fear destroying my future.
11.My family.
12.My family being together.
13.My family being together and enjoying each other.
14.My family being together and enjoying each other with laughter and joy.
15.My family being together and enjoying each other with laughter and joy big enough to make them hate to go to bed.
16.My friends.
17.My friends that love me back.
18.My friends that love me back and let me be real.
19.My friends that love me back and let me be real even when I am obnoxious.
20.My friends that love me back and let me be real even when I am obnoxious with little chance of getting better.
21.Other stuff...a cozy fire in the fireplace/Debbie's corn casserole/quiet conversations about things that matter/funny conversations about things that don't matter/music that brings me into the presence of God/fresh hot cinnamon rolls/gadgets/medicine/plungers/sleep/people that get excited when you show them how to serve others/digital camera's/vanilla/coke/vanilla coke/ice/candle's/friends that understand/the laughter of my grandchildren/the smile of my wife/standing ovations deserved/back rubs/sunshine

A Tale of Four Cities and A Bottle of Whiskey

I'm not certain if this is funny or just sad. As I arrived at church tonight I noticed our Director of Security talking to a man in the parking lot. It was obvious at first glance that he was being asked for money. The man was driving a pick-up truck that was rented from U-Haul. It bore Arizona license plates. As I got out of the car I entered into the conversation. The man was hoping for a cash contribution. He needed gasoline to get to the bedside of his soon to be deceased mother in Memphis, Tennessee. He was asking for five dollars.

(Memphis is several hundred miles away. Five dollars will not buy you two gallons of gasoline. I do not think that U-Haul's get 150mpg. This was my first clue.)

Adam, our Director of Security, had strolled off to look at the mans truck. There was no luggage in it. There was, however, a bottle of whiskey. (This was our second and third clues.)

I told the man that we do not give out cash but that if he would fill out the proper application we would look it over and after a back ground check by the police department we might be able to help him in the morning. He told me that he had already been to the police station and they had given him some spare change. He said that he had to get to Memphis tonight because his mother would be passing away in three days. Seriously. I asked him how he knew that it would be three days before she expired. He told me that the doctor had told him. (This was our fourth clue.)

So for clarification I tried to restate the situation. "So you live here, you rented the truck, and now you need to be in Memphis and five dollars in gas is going to help you?" He told me that I was not listening and that if I would just listen I would surely understand. He said that he doesn't live here he lives in Little Rock, Arkansas, and that was also where he rented the truck.

Little Rock.

Arkansas.

(This was our fifth clue.)

I asked the man if he knew where he was. He said that he did. I told him that he was in the suburbs of St. Louis. He told me that he knew that. I asked why he had driven to St. Louis to get to Memphis when he started in Little Rock. His reply was that U-Haul had given him bad directions. I really tried very hard not to laugh. Honestly, I did. Our friend could have driven from Little Rock to Memphis and back again and not traveled as far as he had come. I drew a triangle in the air to illustrate his situation. I looked at Adam and, honestly, he looked like he needed a little of this guys whiskey.

This was the time that he decided to play his "I'm not a redneck" card. I replied that I had never called him a redneck. And he told me that I kept telling him the same thing over and over. I said that was because he kept asking the same question over and over. Now he said that if I wasn't going to help him I should just say so.

I said so.

He got in his truck and left all in a huff, rented tires spinning on the parking lot asphalt. As he pulled out onto Lebanon Avenue there were four police cars sitting along side the road on what was obviously a drug-bust on a car they had pulled over. The U-Haul wisely slowed down and made his way ... toward Indianapolis.

Dear Anonymous ...

Your comment on my last blog post prompted me to take it off the site, at least temporarily. Whether or not I put it back up is a question I will deal with later.

More importantly I want you to know that you have misinterpreted the meaning of that piece of writing. I usually write about my experiences as a human being trying to walk in the footsteps of Jesus.

Anonymous, I would love to respond to you directly but I cannot do that because I do not know who you are. If you would like a deeper and more personalized explanation please e-mail me at pastorronwoodsATgmail.com Otherwise, all I can do is say a public, "I am sorry that my writings hurt you."

The Man On The Frozen Perch

Once upon a time a tired and lonely man rode an elevator up to the 9th floor of a building situated precisely where he did NOT want to be. He exited the elevator and used the metal key to allow himself entrance into the apartment that he most assuredly did NOT want to enter. The room was dark. It was dark because nobody lived there except for the man. He turned on a single light bulb hidden behind a purple (yes, purple) glass covering. The top of the apartment was white. The bottom of the apartment was white. The middle four feet of the apartment was a brown strip of paint that reached to every wall and every corner and wrapped around him into infinity. The tired and lonely man felt his stomach turn as he looked at the brown paint made black by the purple light. He saw his inflated blow-up bed and he thought of his lovely king sized bed that existed with all of its pillows and comforters in another time and another place. He saw his duffle bag in the corner full of clothes purchased in a lifetime that seemed not to be this life time. Perhaps worst of all he heard the howl. He had been in this apartment for fully four weeks now and the howl was present every night. He approached the sliding door and opened it. There was another sliding door beyond the first and he opened it as well. He stepped out on a slab of concrete suspended 90 feet in the air. The power of the howling wind took his breath away. The temperature, insanely far below zero, made his lungs hurt and within seconds his face was numb. Below, in the dim light which reflected from a nearby city, off of the clouds, the man saw lines of white. Turbulent lines. Churning lines. Angry threatening lines. These lines were waves and they would surely have washed over him, would have erased his misery by a merciful drowning, had he not been suspended far above them in his frozen perch.

A frozen perch 90 feet above death. It seemed appropriate.

The tired and lonely man made his way back within the safety and the warmth of his doors. As his face thawed he was grateful for the burn of nerve endings returning to life. He felt somehow that pain was appropriate. Surely a physical pain would be required to pay for whatever sins had sent him to this wretched life in this wretched place above his liquid death. He sat on the floor and leaned against the doors now covered in moisture. Moisture from the mixing of the heat within and the cold without. A winters dew of sorts. He felt the dew soak through his shirt and touch his skin. Any touch was welcome these days.

Opening a small rectangular and flat box resting by his side brought a jolt of life to the tired mans dim world. Within this box he could travel home and see memories in the millions of tiny pixels that glowed with an air of certainty from its screen. If pixels had feelings these were confident and reassuring. The little box would sometimes reveal the faces of those he remembered and missed. Sometimes letters would arrive in that box and he would read them. He lived for those pixels. Without them he would be truly and forever alone. And tonight the box held a letter! A letter from a precious one younger than himself. With true anticipation one only knows when he has not gazed into the eyes of another human soul in any meaningful way for far too long he clicked twice and opened the letter. It was poetry. Poetry that did not rhyme but nonetheless did sooth the soul. Yes, poetry to his heart. Among many other words the young one wrote the following...

"I cannot imagine what it must be like in that tiny room of that tiny apartment staring at that big lake. But I do know that you are living your story. And those who know you know that you are writing a story that anybody would want to read."

The tired and lonely man read the letter several times. And then he closed the lid on the precious pixels. He bowed his head. He gave a silent thanks for the pain. For the loneliness. For the seeming utter destitution of his life. Perhaps nobody understood. Perhaps nobody could "imagine what it must be like in that tiny room of that tiny apartment staring at that big lake." But a kind young one had spoken from her heart words that reminded him that he had not been forgotten by the one who writes the stories. She had taken the time to say "I care and I am reading" when every other life on earth seemed unaware of the man in the frozen perch. God breathed fresh life through an inkless, paperless, letter. And a little bit of the tired went away. A little bit of the loneliness lifted. He wondered if his story was to be a drama and a tragedy though he prayed for a comedy.

There would be many more dark nights for the tired and lonely man. Much more howling. But he kept that letter in a special place among the pixels. And when the tiredness seemed overwhelming and the loneliness seemed to swallow his soul he would click on it twice and read it again. And he would find the strength to get up, face the waves, and write more of his story. Someday, though he did not know it yet, it would serve him well as that young one became tired and a bit lonely herself. And he would on that day tell her that he actually did have a little glimpse of what it must be like to be in the darkness hearing the howling and wondering a bit fearfully what would come next.

And he would tell her that her story ... her story was beautiful. For her story did have drama. Her story did have comedy. But far and above everything else her story was a love story written by an author who could be trusted. And he, for one, could not wait to read it.

The most important things never make the text books

It's the last week of June. That always reminds me of two things.

A - I'm a year older than I was last week.

B - The last birthday gift my father ever gave me was his funeral. Thanks, dad! There was only 51 other weeks to choose from. I appreciate it!

So I always find my thoughts turning to my father on this week. He's been gone 11 years and I still find myself occasionally starting to reach for the phone to call him up. The truth is that dad would now be 91 years old. And he would have made an awesome 100 year old guy had God blessed him with 20 more years. Alas, it was not to be. But I was thinking about him tonight while washing the car in preparation for a trip to Chicago tomorrow. And I started thinking about the things on this trip that would have wowed him. The things that have changed since he went home in 2000.

Dad would have been shocked by the little box that will hang by suction cup from my windshield tomorrow. To think that it is communicating with at least three satellites and that it was displaying a map while a young woman's voice was directing my every turn would have blown him away.

Dad was no stranger to the existence of cell phones. He never owned one but he "fiddled" (his word, not mine!) with my bulky, early generation phone once or twice. I would have loved to take him to the app on my phone that shows a relatively close-up from-outer-space view of virtually anywhere on the planet. He would not believe that I could pull up an image from beyond earth that shows his house and even the car in his driveway. Or the one that, by touching one button, gives me the address, web site, and directions to any restaurant in his town. He would have been amazed that I could take his picture with my phone and within 60 seconds my brother could be looking at it on his phone in Chicago 600 miles away.

Dad would have loved that I could bring a king size bed with me to his house and blow it up to make it 24 inches thick and sleep as comfortably in his family room as he would in his bed. He would wonder why they didn't invent them back when he was sleeping in the trenches of France or Germany in WWII.

On-Star would have left him speechless.

My father would have been mesmerized by the size and crystal clarity of a typical TV today. And he would say he didn't need one but I promise you that one would be in his family room tuned to professional wrestling (or, as he called it, "rasslin."). And he wouldn't miss one televised Cubs game for sure.

But I think the thing that would surprise my dad the most if he showed up this week in 2011 would be that if he looked at me he would see his wedding ring on the pinky finger of my right hand and one of his WWII dog tags hanging by a chain from my neck. I miss him more than I can say and when I touch those things I can kind of feel him in them.

And the older I get the more I seem to need to feel him around. I wish I had known much, much, earlier that life works that way. Some how the most important things never make it into the text books.

And Then I Heard Him Laugh

Sometimes God likes to remind me that He is God. I suppose that on occasion I need a refresher lesson in that truth. You know how it is. Life happens. We get into rhythms and our days melt one into another and before you know it we have drifted into the assumption that we are in charge and in control. We come to believe that if we don't get everything just right, well, the world is going to be in big trouble.

My shoulders are not that big.

And so God throws days like today into the mix. (Let me state early on that I don't at all believe that God did the things He did today simply for me. I think His purposes were bigger than that. But He surely had me in mind as well as those other people and things. I want to be a good "under-study." So I'm striving to pay attention.) These are the days and these are the ways that God delights in teaching me for the gazillionth time that He is the one, the only, "I Am."

As I woke up today I did one thing before my feet ever touched the floor. Before my eyes even opened to confirm that it was time to get moving. I asked God very simply to please "order my steps today. I need to be in some places at key times and I don't know what those times are so please take charge of my schedule." That was a simple enough prayer. After whispering it I thought no more of it. Then it was time to be rolling out of bed, showering, shaving, doing all of those morning things, I climbed into the car, dropped the top, and began a quick series of errands. It was a beautiful day today and I enjoyed the running around. Still, it seemed to take longer than it should have. I finally found myself on the expressway moving toward St. Louis about 20 minutes later than I would have liked.

"God. Traffic isn't suppose to be this heavy this time of the morning. I need to see my friend, Phyllis, in the hospital and then leave there in time to see my friend Jeff in another hospital 20 minutes away before he goes into surgery. This traffic is making it tough. Please get me everywhere I need to be when I need to be there." The "Poplar Street Bridge" that spans the Mississippi River in downtown St. Louis was just ridiculous. All I could do was pray to be in the correct lane and inch along. And then I got cut off by a semi and wasn't able to make my exit. AAAARRRGGGHHH. I took the next exit and wound through side roads and alleys that I had never been down before. St. Louis University Hospital loomed in the distance, it's big green roof serving as a beacon to guide me through the neighborhoods. I arrived an pulled into the parking garage, got my ticket from the printer, and ... there was an empty parking space. On the first floor. I've been coming to this hospital since 1983 and I have never parked on the first floor. Seriously. Not. One. Time. But I knew I was late. I went inside, got my visitors pass, signed in as clergy, got my parking validated and made my way up to room 721. As I walked I prayed. God, please. Order my steps. I need to be where you want me when you want me there. Help me not to blow this. The errands. The traffic. Getting cut off at my exit. I'm afraid I've really screwed this up.

I made the quick turn into the room Phyllis was in, nodded at her roommate, and stepped onto the other side of the curtain where she should be resting. I found her propped up in bed. Three doctors surrounded her. I heard one speak the word "cancer." That was why I was here. I knew that Phyllis was being told this morning that her surgery yesterday had found cancer. I wanted to be with her when she found out.

Phyllis was crying. The three doctors turned and looked at me. The one that looked like Doogie Houser asked me if I was family. I said, "I am her pastor." The woman doctor said, "Perfect timing" and the trio divided to allow me to step to Phyllises side. I have never seen doctors move so quickly or be more happy to do so. I took my friends hand in mine.

"Pastor, I have cancer again," she moaned. I told her that I knew and that we were going to do the same thing we did the last time she had cancer. We were going to kick its butt. I told her it wouldn't be fun but that hundreds of people were going to watch her do physical and spiritual warfare and that I and her church family would be beside her every step of the way. We prayed. The head doctor gave me his card and told me to call him if I had any questions. Phyllis does not have much family and I guess he wanted someone to have his contact number. Or maybe he had ordered too many business cards. Or maybe I was looking pale and he was trying to drum up business. After we had talked for about 10 minutes the doctors excused themselves and Phyllis and I spoke for nearly another hour. We prayed too. And we cried a little. And then I took my leave of her.

And as I left the room God whispered. He said, "You really are not able to screw up as much as you think you can, Ron. I am in control of errands, and traffic jams, and missed exits. You just keep asking me to guide your steps and I will. Stop worrying so much. If you give it your best shot and don't make it where you think you need to be it's because I didn't put you there. I am God. You are not."

And then ... then I think I heard Him laugh.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #58

Ahhh. The old camouflage bikini trick ... I almost didn't see it... God bless Wal-Mart.

Happy Anniversary To Me

Happy anniversary to me. 10 years. Some anniversaries are to be celebrated with dinners out and gifts. Some are for simple, quiet, reflection. This one falls into the latter category.

It was February 2001 when, out of the blue, I got sick in a way I've never truly understood. Today, ten years afterward, I still have difficulty explaining what happened. The evil lasted from February 10 until September 8th. On that day it went away. It simply ... vanished. I don't know why. 211 days.

Life had been throwing fastballs at my head for a while. The world of teenagers in our community had been rocked multiple times. Suicides. Car accidents resulting in fatalities. An accident at a bus stop claiming a young life. A few severe child abuse situations. As one of the few youth pastors in the community it fell to me each time to minister to hurting families. I suppose that somehow in the midst of the chaos I forgot to deal with it all myself. Internally. I knew I was tired. I never knew that it was more than that. I worked out at least 5 days per week. I found great relief at the gym. A few miles running on a treadmill and nautilus weight machines helped burn the stresses and make them easier to forget. Or at least ignore. I wasn't looking in the rear view mirror of my own life to see if it was all catching up with me.

And then one morning I woke up and before I could even get out of bed I knew I was in trouble. The world was spinning. I guess it was like vertigo. That was not the worst part. There was pain. Deep internal pain. I couldn't point to anyplace and say, "It hurts here." It hurt everywhere. My body felt like it was turning inside out. And that first long day the pain and sense of detachment from reality lasted until about 6PM. Then it eased away and left me alone for the evening and all night. Unfortunately it came roaring back with a vengeance the next morning. It did that for 211 consecutive mornings.

Doctor's could not really figure it out. Everything checked out fine. God spoke though and told me clearly and in ways that I could not deny that I was not alright. He told me that I had lived myself into this mess. He told me that He was there. He told me that He would take care of me and walk me through the evil. And He did.

I could write a book about that year. The pain. The dizziness. The sadness. The desperation. The quiet and yet consistent "bread crumbs" that God left me to remind me that He was with me. Our church loved us through it. They gave me a nearly 3 month sabbatical. They sent my wife and I to a retreat for "hurting pastors" in Marble, Colorado. They flew us there, rented us a convertible Mustang, and picked up the tab for the whole thing. When I came back and stepped into the pulpit on my first Sunday they stood and applauded. I have never felt so loved. I will always have a deep gratitude to them for that.

Over the next 2 years I experienced a closer walk with God than I ever have in my entire life. He showed up so many times and in so many ways. I found myself in a love affair with my Savior. I miss those years. Such a gift.

Well, as often happens, the world blew apart again one day. This time it was not my fault. I just found myself locked in spiritual warfare the likes of which I had never previously experienced. Very unfortunate circumstances captured my attention every minute of every day for several years. I should never have allowed myself to get that deeply mired in emotional pain. I should have known better. But I was trying to follow Jesus as best I could. Honestly I was. I will go to my grave knowing that I was obedient. If I am wrong, He will tell me. But that is the only thing that will convince me that I had stepped out of line. Long before that battle ended I was sick again. Blessedly, the pain was absent but that was the only part of the old warfare that didn't return. I blame nobody but myself. Still, that doesn't mean I understand it. How can you follow God and wind up sick? I have no answer for that.

I am grateful that on this anniversary of "the lost year" I am living life on level ground once again. I celebrate the goodness of my God and I praise Him in the wake of the storm. I love what God is doing. I love how He loves me. I love how He has blessed me. I love Him.

I suppose I have made a lot of vague statements in this late night musing. Some things never need to be spoken of. Some truths don't need to be shared. It is enough to say that I am the only one who ever made myself go through these two seasons of sickness. And God is the only one to have brought me out of them. To reach the 10 year mark and not publicly proclaim His praises would be inexcusable. So let me just say it this way.

When you look at my life, anything good you see ... that is Jesus in me. Anything questionable or bad you see ... that is me. There it is. My life in two sentences.

Isaiah 41: 10 "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

My Family

I would march into hell with a squirt gun for any one of these people.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #57

Courtesy of my friend, Dave Dugan. A lawyer. Go figure. :)

Stupid Picture Chronicles #56

Seriously? I'm betting they were on their way to Wal-Mart.

Bill

I believe that the first person I met upon my arrival at Towerview Baptist Church (other than the pastor search committee) was Bill. Actually, if you do not count my wife, Bill is the first person I meet at church every Sunday morning and every Wednesday night. That is because he takes the responsibility of "Chief Greeter and All Around Nice Guy" very seriously. It is nearly impossible to enter the front doors of our church without being greeted by Bill and handed either a Sunday morning worship bulletin or a Wednesday evening prayer list. And they both come with a complimentary hand-shake.

You cannot help but love Bill.

Unfortunately, he has not been well for some time. The last year has not been good to him. Bill has been fighting a nasty battle with cancer. And if you look at things from a purely worldly standpoint, he is losing. Quickly. Like maybe this week.

Today I walked up to Bills front door and put out my hand to ring the doorbell. I had not visited with Bill since last Thursday. On that bright, sunny, tornado-less day (that matters around St. Louis this year) he was feeling quite well. I found him sitting in his recliner. His sister was visiting from the Lake of the Ozarks. We had a nice visit and I gave Bill a book. "One Minute After You Die." It was authored by Irwin Lutzer and I strongly recommend that you read it while you still have the chance. Then I shared a moment of prayer with my friend and excused myself to continue my day. But that was Thursday and this was Wednesday. Bill's health had plunged rapidly since that time. The end is drawing near. And I came to see if maybe he needed to talk. As I put my hand out, finger pointed toward the doorbell button, all of my physical and mental processes ground to a halt. I don't know how to explain it. I have paid many visits to many dying men and women over 3.5 decades of pastoring. But today, before I could push that button a thought rushed through my brain with all of the intensity of General Sherman's burning of Atlanta.

I was about to speak to a man who within a couple of days would very likely be speaking face to face with Jesus Christ. THE Jesus Christ. The creator and Lord of creation. The gentleman I was about to address, perhaps give advice to, certainly pray with, would listen to me today without a doubt. What I said he would take as the gospel truth. However, by the next time we have a Wednesday roll around every word I was about to speak would be proven true or false by almighty God Himself. I will be Bill's "under-shepherd" for a matter of a remaining few hours. And then he would report directly to The True Shepherd. The Alpha and Omega. He will be seeing the nail scars and the marks left from a crown of thorns. But right now he was my responsibility. And when he stops being my responsibility he will be the direct responsibility of ... The Son of God.

I cannot begin to tell you what that did to my heart. I realized in a very fresh and new way the gravity of the assignment that God has bestowed upon me. My greatest fear is to fail in that assignment. My greatest honor is in having it bestowed upon me in the first place. And tonight it feels like the weight of the universe is resting on my shoulders. It is the most intimidating thing I have ever felt.

I am not worthy.

And I cannot think of one other word to say.

Life On The Broken Planet

I remember April 22, 1967. I did not know it at the time but it was precisely 18 years to the day until my last child would be born. Nobody can look into the future and see something like that. I remember April 22, 1967 because on that day I was looking back about 18 hours. I was 11 years old and I was in a car with my pastor and other kids from the youth group I had just grown into. We were driving to downtown Chicago for a "Jesus Rally." I remember the rally, but again, that's not what is so memorable. On that beautiful Saturday morning we drove through the suburb of Oak Lawn, Illinois. The previous day it had been devastated by a monster tornado. These pictures <----- from Oak Lawn remind me of what we have been looking at all week in the unfortunate town of Joplin, Missouri. My juvenile brain went into overload as we drove through block after block after block of homes that looked as though they had been smashed by God's angry fist. I had a difficult time wrapping my mind around it. And I had a hard time understanding why the God I was on the way to worship at Chicago's Civic Center would allow that to happen. I still don't know the answer to that one.

A hospital full of sick and injured people got blown apart on Sunday night in Joplin. The current death toll stands around 124 in that city. And it is frightening to realize that roughly 1,500 people are still unaccounted for. No doubt most of them are with friends someplace and safe. But other people do not know that and so they found their way onto the list. There is also little doubt that many of the 1,500 are not at all safe. They really are missing. How can something blow the bark off of trees? How can a storm literally blow the pavement off of roads leaving only an ugly scar on the ground? How can a child be sucked out through the sunroof of his parents car? How can debris from the havoc the tornado creates soar 18,000 feet into the air? That is 3.4 miles UP. How can medical x-rays from the aforementioned hospital land in another city 70 miles away? I mean, what kind of force can do that?

I am afraid that I have more questions than I have answers. The older I get the more I realize that what I once accepted as acceptable reasons just doesn't really measure up. There are no answers available that make me go, "Oh. Okay. I get it now."

And so here is where I land. The planet we live on is broken. We broke it. It all started with an act that seemed tiny. The eating of fruit from a tree that God forbid a man and a woman to eat from. You can read about it in the book of Genesis. Chapter 3. So the guy and the girl break God's only rule. They decide to eat out one evening and make the unwise choice of restaurants. And thus we have the first "sin." It's just fruit, right? Hmmm. Do you know what the second recorded sin is? Murder. One young man killed his brother because of jealousy. From fruit to fight. From meal to murder. And the spiral continues on this very day. And the mayhem does not just effect people. It effects all of creation. It has resulted in earthquakes, tsunami's, hurricanes ... and tornadoes.

God help us.

But lest you think that is the end of the story, consider this. Do not for a minute think that we have been deserted and left alone on this spinning ball in space. God is still in charge. He paid the ultimate price to defeat the sin that so easily entangles us. He surrendered His Own Son to the powers of evil in order to buy us back. And because of that ... for those that believe ... everything ends WELL.

But for now we still live on the broken planet.

I pray though that you will find encouragement in these facts. God directs every lightening bolt. God counts every rain drop. God sees the impact of every hail stone. And not one single tornado will ever be spun out of a cloud without either God causing it, or at the very least, giving it permission. And now add this into the equation. He knows where you are. Every second of every day. People die under tragic circumstances. And yes, Christ followers sometimes get killed by tornadoes. We are not immune to the effects of the broken planet. Perhaps ... I'm not certain but just perhaps ... every time a lost person dies from tragic events God allows a Christ follower to die from tragic events also. Why? So the world will see the difference.

I sleep well regardless of the weather. Oh sure, I take precautions. I have a couple of flashlights. I have a sturdy and fairly safe basement. I have a battery operated weather radio. That is only smart. But the reason why I sleep well is because my Father watches over me. And someday He will call me home. If it's because I'm in a truly bad location when a tornado comes by ... well ... alright. I can think of better ways to go. But I'm His. I settled that long ago. And my earthly father taught me when I was a child that he would watch out for me and provide for me. My Father in heaven has done the same thing. So I think I"ll go to bed now. He's got His eye on me. It's on you too. And that gives me more rest than the best sleeping aid on the market.

Nighty night.

Thoughts from the "Time Out" corner

I've been doing a little studying today. Um. Actually, I've been doing a LOT of studying today. Lately I've felt a little out of touch with the "Director" of this symphony we call life. And so I've taken three extended "time outs" today just to reconnect a bit. I'm not done. I feel compelled to do this at some level over the next week or so. I suppose I'll just follow the trail as God lays it out before me and see where that leads. Isn't that pretty much what life is after all? Following the trail of Jesus through the fields and factories, the oceans and atmospheres, the city streets and outback creeks of life? I've been in all six and I've observed His Hand in each one.

For the sake of personal authenticity I thought I would go ahead and expose some of the notes I've taken for the scrutiny of any who care to take a glance. If through my transparency you find me to be in error, please do let me know. Keep me on the path. But do be gentle. I bruise easily.

1. Sometimes faith looks like stupid. Sometimes stupid looks like faith. Good luck telling the difference.

2. My lack of doing anything wrong does not necessarily constitute my innocence.

3. Spiritual hoarding is wise and appropriate. It can never co-exist with physical hoarding.

4. God is in control of every click of my clock and every tick of my tock.

5. God's "being" and God's "seeing" are the same thing.

6. God's presence and God's manifest presence are not the same. We must be aware of His presence for it to be made manifest.

7. God's presence is not a matter of miles but of experience.

8. Be certain to aquire the life-long habit of spiritual response. "You have said, 'Seek my face.' My heart says to you, 'Your face, Lord, do I seek.'" Psalm 27: 8

9. Perhaps it is just me but the peacefulness of my sleep tonight will inevitably correlate with the depth of my Spirit-Walk today.

10. still searching ...

i-trouble

I recently "invested" in a new phone. The greatly coveted i-phone now hangs on my belt or rests quietly in my pocket. Wowie, it's cool. I've used a "smart phone" for several years but mine always turned out to be dumb. When I moved from Cleveland two years back one of my last acts before pulling out of our apartments parking lot on our final frigid Ohio day was to walk to the frozen shore of Lake Erie and throw my piece-o-crap microsoft operating system phone as far out onto the ice as I could possibly manage to throw it. And then I yelled several hyphenated words at it. I was rather colorful in my diction as I loudly informed it that it would lay there for at least two more months just thinking about its fate before the spring thaw sent it permanently to the bottom of that Great Lake. I find great joy knowing that at this very moment it is still down there. A just punishment for its cellular sins.

My i-phone is nearly two months old. It's never hiccuped. Never had a glitch. It has never dialed a number all on its own or sent an email without my telling it to. All of my other dumb smart phones did those things. This phone works. Flawlessly. Every time. No problem.

And that's the problem.

It is too good. There are too many apps ... FREE APPS. I can go to Target, find something I want to buy, and scan its bar code with my phone and it searches nearby stores for a lower price on the same item. I went to six stores yesterday and can testify that the cheapest Tootsie Rolls really are at Walmart. I can put a receipt on a table, snap a picture of it, and it turns it into a pdf document that I can send to my church treasurer so that she can refund my money to me for a church purchase I've made. It finds me by GPS satellites and tracks how far I walk every day. Yes, it knows if I am walking or riding in the car. I can pull up a google maps street view of my location and it will point out every restaurant in view. Oh, I'm just getting started. It can tell me how badly the Cubs lost today before the first pitch! Okay, I made up that last one. But give them time and there will be an app for that.

So what, you ask, is my issue? Simple. I can't seem to go more than 5 minutes without touching it. I'm not joking. It calls my name. It does too much. Instant email, text messages, twitter feeds, Facebook updates, and even an occasional phone call. Did I mention that I have 2,000 songs on it's built in ipod? Okay, I seriously just checked to see what the temperature is at the South Pole and it took me 23 seconds. TWENTY THREE SECONDS, PEOPLE! (if you care it's forty four degrees below zero and cloudy. Sucks to be them.) Do you realize how long it would have taken me ten years ago to find the current temperature at the South Pole? I'm not even sure there was a way to do it! Why would I want to know the temperature at the South Pole? Simple.

BECAUSE I CAN.

The wind down there is blowing at a constant 21 mph and that makes its wind chill factor a mind numbing minus eighty-four. This honestly would not be a problem for my i-phone because I spent the extra bucks to protect it. I purchased a United States Military Approved rubberized case for it. It's water proof, sand proof, and I'm pretty certain that nuclear fall-out would have no effect on it whatsoever.

I remember when I use to read books. I had a dog that I petted once upon a time. My wife and I often held hands. I flossed. Now I just hold my phone and ...

I need help.