Thoughts on Christmas

I wish writing came really easy. I wish it wasn't work. I want all these random thoughts that come springing forth to shape themselves so that the process easily flows and everyone says, "what a great writer he is" and "I wish I could say it like that". It isn't like that though. The crazy thing is, after 2 beers I think it's like that and I'll post most anything. I once sent a rambling email to my pastor and it embarrasses me now when I peek back into "sent mail" and see it there. I can imagine him, eyebrow raised a bit and his head cocked to the side thinking, "I believe Dave had two beers before he wrote this".

Christmas 2009 came. And it went. Five years ago I was part of a larger family. I was married and my wife's family always made such a wonderful Christmas celebration. Christmas eve was at my in-laws' home and there was food and frivolity and dogs running everywhere (always more dogs than kids). We began a Christmas morning tradition that included breakfast at our house where we opened stockings while feasting on some kind of egg/sausage/hash brown casserole. I am grateful for those days.

Since 2006 it's been quite different. There was plenty of time right after the divorce to wallow in self-pity. I remember thinking, as that first post-divorce holiday season approached, "I'm going to be spending Christmas in this little apartment all by myself!" I will admit that it was a bit scary. I prayed at my bedside Christmas eve and I gotta tell you, there was an honesty about that prayer. I was whining like a baby and complaining all the while knowing I was to blame for my circumstances. Prayer in times like that is difficult for me. I always picture God like an angry parent saying, "well maybe you'll think before you go off half-cocked and do something that stupid again".

But what surprised me was that God was so comfortingly close. Kind of in spite of myself. It's like when I was a kid and got my fingers caught in my grandmother's wringer washing machine. I was hurt and scared and she scooped me up and let me nestle in her lap while she lulled me to peace in her rocking chair. Yes it was my fault. I had slipped a piece of paper between the rollers on that machine so I could see how squeezed it would become. Like putting a penny on the railroad tracks to see it after the locomotive went by knowing when I retrieved it from the tracks it would be flat as a pancake and at least the size of a half dollar. Nothing like that happened to the paper though. It just sat there all wet and went 'round and 'round on the roller. Thinking I'd better retrieve it, I put my fingers up there so I could scrape it from the roller as it came by. The rollers weren't having any of that. They live for little boy's fingers! Slowly I watched helpless as my index and middle finger were pulled between the merciless rollers. I remember screaming. Grandma came quickly in her uneven gait down the stairs and saved me. God was just like that that Christmas eve night. Only bigger.

Now Christmas is singing carols with a group of friends at a home where a young wife has terminal cancer as she celebrates what will likely be her last Christmas here on earth. A holy time. Christmas is taking some hot coffee, biscuits and gloves to folks who live in a tunnel downtown. It's squelching my pride, at least for a few hours, to accept a dinner invitation at a friend's home with her three sons. Don't get me wrong. I would love to have the joyous family celebration again and the opportunities to serve were there all the time. Maybe I just had to wake up a bit. Maybe it helped to be squeezed a little.

Eating, Drinking and Working

This book of Ecclesiastes is probably not meant as a quick and cheerful read. There is so much here that on the surface sounds sad. Much of what I read seems to teach that life may not have the depth of meaning I thought it did. Nevertheless I will read it again and continue to pray through it. I've learned over the years that understanding the Bible takes time and disciplined study.

I had to smile when I read chapter 10, verse 2. This is an obvious verse in support of Republicans and against Democrats. Listen: "A wise man's heart inclines him to the right, but a fool's heart to the left." Some things are just so clear!

Chapter 8:11-13 rang true. "Because the sentence against an evil deed is not executed speedily, the heart of the children of man is fully set to do evil. Though a sinner does evil a hundred times and prolongs his life, yet I know it will be well with those that fear God, because they fear before Him. But it will not be well with the wicked, neither will he prolong his days like a shadow, because he does not fear before God." I may not get all of that but oh it's so true. It is easy to continue in sin because punishment is not always immediate.

There was this one thread that kept popping up. Well, okay there were several. Like the "all is vanity part." That repeats like the steady dripping of a faucet throughout the book. I still don't know what to make of that. But the part that caught my interest occurs in one form or another in 2:24, 3:13, 3:22, 5:18, 8:15, 9:7. Solomon keeps up the refrain that to eat, drink and enjoy our work is a gift from God. How utterly practical. How terrific this is! I like to eat and I like to drink. I do really enjoy my work. I haven't always liked my job but, for the most part, there has always been a measure of pleasure in the daily grind. So... this is God's gift to me. And to you.

So, I'll thank Him for the pizza, the Coca Cola, the frosty glass of Heineken, the hot cup of fresh brewed coffee and the occasional treat my brother-in-law takes off the grill. I'll wonder at His creative genius to make a tongue that senses such pleasure in these things. I'll worship Him with my joy in my work as I serve my customers and I'll be grateful for each paycheck knowing He gives me the ability to get wealth (Deuteronomy 8:18).

Now, about that vanity part.....

What Not to do Should You Become Depressed

I heard from a friend tonight. He told me his parents are separated and may be getting a divorce. I've been through divorce and I remember the twisted gut pain of the moment. It wrenched anew each morning when the fog of sleep lifted and I became conscious of the reality that something was moving interminably toward a conclusion I couldn't control. I had been so used to fudging for just a wee bit more time to get all the pieces of any problem in just the right orientation so I could pull off a splendid resolution. Or, at least procrastinate long enough for another crisis to take center stage. Finally my marriage ended; I couldn't save it. The time for saving it had past. I was probably at work or watching T.V. and it slipped by unnoticed like homely girl in the hallway at school. I remember the warning signs. I remember her telling me what bothered her and when. I think I tried to manage the problems like a homework assignment.

So now on Friday nights I sit in my favorite chair and rub my devoted dog's head. I waste time on Facebook and hear the echos of well-meaning friends saying, "everyone is meant for someone" and "you just haven't met the right woman yet". Oh yes, then there's the ever helpful, "I have someone I'd like you to meet." Right now I am certain that I lack the strength to carry all of this baggage into one more relationship.

I smile and remember that I really am just a mist. I am here for just a brief moment and then I'm gone. All these words I write will be forgotten, every song I've labored over will be remembered by no one. My loves and losses at first may be remembered by some but then they will all slip into the more distant past where all is finally forgotten. Depressing.

So I click over to espn.com and see what the prognosticators say about tomorrow's upcoming college football games. My laptop has become my T.V. I can waste time very effectively surfing the internet. I need to pick up a book and read. I need to study for an upcoming class. At the very least I could get up and file the papers that are cluttering my desk. Yet all this would take energy I cannot muster at the moment. Besides, I'd have to move my dog off my lap and she seems quite comfortable.

I feel like we were made for more. God has set eternity in our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Uh oh. Maybe it's best not to quote Ecclesiastes - especially if I am feeling a bit down. One look into those 12 chapters again and depression is a certainty. Like a driver with his neck craned to see a traffic accident he really doesn't wish to see, I grab my Bible and look into the Old Testament book...

Simple Service

Having no television is one of the best ways to communicate spiritual superiority without overtly broadcasting how you've grown in Christ. It comes up in conversations like this, "So, what about that Letterman interview with Christina Applegate? Was she on drugs or what?" or "Did you see Supernanny with the Silva family and their seven children?" I smile with my head slightly cocked to the right and say, "oh, sorry... I don't have a television. I missed that." People stare at you. They're trying to determine if you're kidding. When they gather you're telling the truth they become incredulous. "No T.V.? But, uh, wha, how," they stammer. "Well, you see" I begin, "the Holy Spirit was dealing with me about how many hours I fritter away in front of the television dulling my mind in pursuit of entertainment that has no eternal significance whatsoever." As that is sinking in I share with them what I've learned from Neil Postman's excellent study "Amusing Ourselves to Death" which decries our reliance on television so much that he purports we no longer engage in meaningful conversation unless it entertains. Certain by now the Holy Spirit is grateful I have enlightened one more soul about the dangers of television, I smugly offer thoughtful helps on how they might wean themselves from this insidious evil.


Tonight my brother called me and I was right in the middle of looking at someone's photos on Facebook. I was annoyed having to answer the phone. The number of people I enjoy talking to on the telephone for any length of time I can count on one hand. One finger, in fact. And he's not the finger. "Yeah, what's up?" I answer curtly. He tells me a little about his day and asks if I need anything for tomorrow's cook out. I tell him I have it all covered while I sit clicking through photos. He rambles on about this and that while I try to give him polite verbal cues that I'm otherwise occupied and not into this conversation. He mentions something about being limited to just four or five television channels since some nearby cable work began. Suddenly I'm back in the dialogue, "You ought to try no channels," I interject wryly. He gets my meaning immediately and offers, "I don't know how you can take it. If I didn't have T.V. to watch I'd go nuts!"


"What you really mean," I offer," is that without a T.V. you'd have to converse with someone, read a book or otherwise engage in a meaningful activity." A familiar nudge taps my spirit as if to say, "yeah, like looking at photos on Facebook of a friend's family you don't even know and being so engrossed in this meaningful activity you respond with annoyance when your brother calls." Ouch! Where'd that come from? Now I'm a bit perturbed, my default emotion when rebuked, and I tell Danny, "Look, I gotta go. Trudie's barking and I'm making dinner..." He graciously lets me go and I think how blind I am. I can be so callous, especially to those closest to me. Maybe God can only use me when I am unaware He's doing it. I'm pretty sure now He hasn't called me to share my thoughts on T.V. with anyone. At least never from a prideful heart. There is no Jesus in that.


After a few moments and a prayer of confession I call my brother back. I don't apologize... maybe he didn't notice. Speaking much more kindly now and from my surprisingly contrite heart I suggest a few things he could indeed bring tomorrow. I close my laptop while we talk and I actually enjoy the conversation. I know he likes to talk on the phone. No, it's not one of my favorite things to do but it may just be a simple way to serve him right now. How badly do I really want that servant's heart anyway?

The Field

I want to start jogging again but my knees hurt. They don't hurt all of the time but maybe 47% of the time they ache a little. I was talking to a friend tonight who is 20 years younger than me. He started running or jogging, I am not exactly sure of the difference only I'm pretty certain I've never done the former. (Except that one time when me and a buddy broke into this house in Tampa to see where they were filming a horror movie. After we were inside I saw someone at the back door with a flashlight trying to get in and we busted out of the front door running like deer from a forest fire. That time I ran for real.) Anyway, Joseph started jogging or running and he's trimmed up nicely and so I'm thinking I should do the same. Never mind that I'm 52, I can still have the lean body of a 30-year-old.

Ever since I returned from Romania I have been praying about other opportunities to serve. I want to become a missionary but probably for all the wrong reasons. Sometimes I imagine being introduced somewhere, "Dave Nix, missionary to Chiapas, Mexico, one of the most hostile regions for the gospel." Maybe there's like a "heaven receiving line" and most Christians have to wait in a queue but missionaries can casually stroll in a special door like the Hertz #1 Club or the Delta Sky Miles Medallion members. Pastors have yet another door but even they're only AAA members; missionaries have all the best perks.

Except it isn't like that. The gospel is about knowing Jesus. Really knowing Him. Serving, suffering and dying... sometimes in obscurity. God gets the glory and we passionately run after Him crying out with John the Baptist, "He must increase and I must decrease." The problem with this is that it is counter to most everything in me. Even when I think I've done something for altruistic motives I find this root of pride in me that wants just a taste a recognition. I'm convinced that followers of Christ know this better than anyone. Just a brief nod my way from the pulpit or a mention of some God-honoring deed I did all for the glory of Christ. I'll deflect the glory.... honest I will. I'll point heavenward and say with all the sincerity I can muster, "Ah, praise God, I'm just thankful He was able to use me." The only problem with this is that He knows my heart. He has said, "the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked: who can know it?" (Jeremiah 17:9) It's like He was thinking of me when he penned those words.

Surely I would be a poor missionary. I'm fond of comfort and my knees hurt. I like having a clean private toilet, not to mention toilet paper. Nevertheless, I found a website called finishers.org. It's for older people who want to research mission opportunities maybe instead of retiring to Sarasota. I posted some information about myself there and actually started hearing from people. When I returned from Romania I received an email about an opportunity to help provide wheelchairs for the disabled in Turkey. We started corresponding. All of a sudden I had to ask myself, would I give up my business? Could I imagine selling or renting my home and leaving Trudie with friends and going to another country, another culture, to tell them about a God who loved them and a Saviour who died in their place? From whence came this little seed of desire that whispers inside me "yes, do send me Lord, I'll go"?

So, I think I better start jogging. Just in case I am subject to a more rigorous lifestyle in the future. Also, I think Spanish is a good language to learn. Chiapas, Columbia, Cuba... who knows? (I gave thought to Romanian but that language sounds so terribly difficult.) I don't know if He'll ever send me outside my neighborhood but this odd desire that I've never had before started creeping into my thinking 3 years ago and it only seems to get stronger. It feeds my zeal here also. I find I talk about Him more with neighbors, co-workers and even customers (uh-oh, big American taboo there, huh?). It's just that Jesus said, "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field."

I want to buy that field.

Drinking, Community and the Gospel

I know someone who likes to drink. He cannot handle it though. He drinks too much and becomes inebriated. At that point it is difficult to be around him. Conversations become repetitive and animated, he pulls on my dog's ears playfully but too hard and she yelps, he becomes sloppy and just all around useless. He lived with me awhile on the condition that he not drink while staying here. After three strikes he was out. That was a couple months ago.

I've lived alone since my divorce. It was painfully lonely at first - especially on Sundays. Our pastor calls our congregation a "faith family" and that is what we are. I love my small group. But it was hard to worship together and then leave and be alone. I was always looking around for other people with whom to go to lunch after the service. Most of the time it was a drive-through and on to the house where Trudie would sit quietly waiting for a morsel to fall from the table.

In his book "Blue Like Jazz" Donald Miller shares how his pastor kept nagging him to move in with roommates. As I recall the author quite liked to be alone but his pastor believed firmly in community and kept nudging him until he relented and moved in with 4 other guys. He experienced difficulties but God used the experience to grow him, smoothing out some rough places like a sculptor.


I do think you can get mighty weird living alone. Talking to your pets isn't all that odd but I might want to keep an eye on the more lengthy two-part conversations. The ones that go something like this:


Trudie: "Daddy, why you gotta leave Trudie again?" (Trudie always speaks in the third person.)

Me: "Baby, you know Daddy has to work. Someone's gotta buy you food and treats." (I guess Daddy sometimes speaks in the third person too.)

Trudie: "Daddy, excuse me but it looks like you're the one doing all the eating."

Me: "Watch your mouth mutt or no walk before Daddy leaves for work!"


See what I mean? Doing it doesn't seem all that weird but writing it down like I did just now makes me wonder if I ought not find another roommate.... quickly.

Lately I have been thinking that relationships are far more important than I ever thought. I should have guarded many that I let dissolve or just kind of dissipate. I used to tell friends that moving around so much as a kid kept me skilled at cutting off relationships. If dad and mom said we were going back to Florida or moving to California I immediately started cutting ties and closing off a bit inside. These days I don't think that is such a great skill to have. Aside from the growing weird part I'm thinking God may use the more difficult times (like when someone is just royally getting on my nerves) to reveal things about my character that I'd rather not look at.

Imagine a guy hanging out for three years with twelve other guys. Out of that group he's really close to three of them. They do everything together - eating, sleeping, everything. You know how close you get to people just spending a week's vacation them. Sometimes their little habits start grating on you. When my friend lived with me he had a habit of walking through the house not really whistling but making a soft tune, which I could never identify by the way. It was kind of a cross between humming, breathing and whistling. Every morning he would do this as he paced around going from one room to the next with his coffee. EVERY morning.

Now imagine that you are Jesus hanging out with your twelve friends and you know them thoroughly. Not just the part of them they want you to see but you know them through and through. You see the core of their petty envy and bitter hatred. You see their irrational fears and slavish lusts. You see them as proud, arrogant and blind.... yet you love them. You reveal to them for the 3rd time at least that you are headed to an excruciating death on a cross of wood, nailed up there like a convicted murderer, though you never did one wrong deed in your life. You bear your soul and it goes right over their heads. They stare at you blankly and go right back to bickering about who is going to be the greatest in the coming kingdom. How alone would you feel? How desperate for intimacy and starved for true companionship and it's nowhere in these twelve. One of them will soon turn you over to authorities for some cash and another, who happens to be the loudest about his loyalty, will soon turn and run to save his own skin! At that point if I were Jesus I think I would've prayed, "God, just give me a dog! Please!" I bet his sweetest companionship was felt when he went off by himself, maybe knelt and looked up to the sky to talk to his Father. "Abba Father" he cried, "all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will..... but what you will."

Soon after he was suffering. Pain like we will never know. The cup would not be removed. The Father turns his back on his Son after placing every lie, every adultery, every murder, every drunken binge, every proud thought and envious glance right on the body of His Son. That body which Jesus said was broken for me. For you. Blood staining the harsh wood of the cross and falling to the dirt. Blood he said was poured out for us.

If someone wrote a play they could not capture the depth of this love. It's no wonder he told us to go tell everyone.

Feet

I used to be married and one of the nicest things my wife did for me was to give me an occasional pedicure. I guess because they're at the other end of my body from my eyes I never noticed what poor shape my feet were in. They certainly get rough looking over time! She used to encourage me to use the pumice stone in the shower and put lotion on them but that seemed like such a hassle. She warned me that I couldn't expect them to look good all of the time if I relied on her only occasional attention.



Tonight our small group will meet to discuss chapter 17 of "Discipleship Essentials" by Greg Ogden. The chapter on Love. Part of the reading was John 13 where Jesus is spending the last night on earth with his disciples. To teach them about loving servitude he poured a basin of water, got a towel and began washing the disciples' feet. I love this picture of Jesus and I don't know why. I have read it for years but lately it's drawing me in. There is something here that grabs my affections. I smile at Peter's brash pride when he puffs up and says, "No, you shall never wash my feet!" That's me. Totally oblivious to what the Saviour is teaching. The book proposed that showing love through serving may be easier than receiving loving service from someone else. It's easier to hear from a friend how helpful my act of service was. It feeds my pride. To be served is altogether humbling. Archbishop William Temple said, "Man's humility does not begin with the giving of service; it begins with the readiness to receive it."



One time I was injured in a silly trampoline accident. Playing with a friend's 4-year-old I tried a move he just completed forgetting that my 43-year-old body might not respond like his. I remembered the tingle in my arms and fingers as I hyper extended my cervical spine. I had no permanent damage but wearing a hard cervical collar for 6 weeks made me think. What if I had been injured? What if I sustained a spinal cord injury and became a quadriplegic? What if someone had to assist me with all my hygiene needs every single day? I remember thinking if that were to happen I would want my wife to leave to find another mate who wasn't disabled. It was unbearable to think of requiring that kind of service day in and day out. I'm embarrassed to admit this because I think it's a reflection of my own shallow idea of love.

Suddenly I realized my buddy Ches was leading the discussion tonight. What if he reads this lesson and gets the bright idea that we're to wash each other's feet? I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the foot file, cuticle nippers, nail clippers and lotion. I headed out to the back deck to repair a few years worth of damage in 20 minutes or so.

A Little Bit of Heaven

There is a phenomena that occurs when I get back from one of these short-term mission trips. It’s almost like being high on some kind of drug and then coming down. Kind of a hangover. I was walking my dog on Tuesday morning after I got back. One of those beautiful southern mornings and even though it’s only July there was an uncharacteristic hint of fall in the air – a little crispness. It immediately reminded me of the mornings in Suceava and I was homesick. But wait… I am home. That was only ten short days out of my summer. How can I grow to love a place in such a short time? Maybe it’s because the people were so hospitable. Maybe it’s because we were all together in our task to help people. Our therapists Deb and Jenny kept saying it was a little bit of heaven on earth. Maybe….

In heaven there will be no disabled people to help. No head or spinal cord injuries, no cerebral palsy and no muscular dystrophy. So, it cannot be a little heaven on earth. But the young boy who sang to us in his native tongue and the grateful parents we hugged, the surprising joy welling up in us from serving people, and the extraordinary bond I shared with my co-laborers... that was pretty cool. In that way, maybe...

I already spoke of how these who are last will be first when we get home. Like the boy whose body was so tight with abnormal muscle tone from cerebral palsy. He couldn't express himself in a way I could understand yet I looked at him. And he looked at me. I liked looking in his eyes. I want to remember him so that when I see him dancing before our Saviour I can laugh. I can laugh and cry at the same time. A little bit of heaven, maybe...

It's going to be so great.

They Call Them Repenters

One surprise I had about the church in Romania was that evangelicals are called repenters. I think there is something to be learned here. Let me explain...

I have friends, mostly younger than me, teenagers whom I met through the church or that I taught guitar. Some of these have gone off to university and have wandered away from following Christ. The very sad thing is that I expect it. Because it was true for me I expect it to be an experience that most will bear. Kind of a testing time. A time of sewing "wild oats." Even the Amish have the time of Rumspringa. I wondered about that in Romania.

I worked with some unusual teenagers. These boys were there for translating mostly but David, Alex, Dani, Cosmin, Narcissus, and Roland spent a good bit of time being wheelchair mechanics. I liked them all right away. "Narcheeze," as I called him in my poor Alabama dialect, showed me around the local mall and spoke easily in very good English about his plans for medical school. Roland is moving to Seattle and wants to become an architech. David loves computers. They all knew the Bible. In our down times I would drill them. Easy questions at first, "what was King David's great sin?" and then harder ones, "who was the disabled boy King David brought into his home and why?" These fellows knew most of the answers. They were respectful to elders and opened doors for ladies. On one night's hike Dani walked slowly, away from all of his friends who were up ahead, to assist our writer Jody who had no idea she would be walking up and down a hundred steps in the dark to witness a Stephen the Great fortress.

I worry about teenagers. I wonder if all of them have to walk away from God to see if their faith is real. I spoke to Sammy on my last day about this. Sammy is with Evangelism Explosion and lives in Bucharest. He helps with Joni and Friends events as well. Bucharest Sammy told me the Orthodox church is like the "state church" in Romanian. Almost to the extent that to be Romanian is to be orthodox. I heard many problems with the orthodox church. A different Sammy, Suceava Sammy who helped us with translation, told me that many years ago his father started to read the Bible. He was orthodox like all of his friends. When he found things in the Bible which didn't line up with orthodox tradition he went to the priests and asked questions. They told him, "that is not our tradition. If you believe that you are pentecostal." Suceava Sammy's father said, "I don't know pentecostal but if they believe the Bible I suppose I am one!" Both Sammys told me that when someone comes to Christ they are called repenters and face ostracism right away. Some face it in school with their peers and some face it on the job. To be Romanian is to be orthodox. To walk away from orthodoxy is, to some extent, to declare allegiance to another besides Romania. Exactly what Jesus calls us to.

Both Sammys helped me to see that for Romanians to embrace the gospel of Jesus involves some hardship and persecution. Bucharest Sammy said this is why they don't fall away when they go off to university. They have been tested. They know what is required. They have repented.... they are repenters.

If God should bring difficult times upon America I believe repenters will stand, only by God's grace, and nominal Christians will fall away. There are so many thorns and not a lot of depth of soil in the hearts of people who experience abundance and ease. To be challenged about our faith, even a little bit, is at that time a crisis point. Will we speak the truth and testify to Jesus Christ as the light of the world or will we keep our mouth's shut? We will exclaim humbly yet with boldness that Christ Himself said he was exclusively the only saviour?

Repenters. Difficult to be one but oh so necessary.

Leaving Romania Soon

Those of you who have been on these short-term mission trips know about the devotions and de-briefing. These help me stay focused and I remember why I am here. They also give me glimpses into the hearts of my co-workers. The last few were very hard. I know we are all leaving and it's hard to say goodbye.

Saturday morning Beckah, our youngest co-worker, led our devotion time. She's the teenage daughter of physical therapist Debbie. They got here a week before the rest of the team and shared the love of Christ in another wheelchair distribution in Cluj. Beckah attracts children probably like Jesus did. She turned our attention to two of her favorite scriptures. I smiled when I heard the second one. It was a turning point scripture for me. One I heard back in 2006 when my pastor preached for weeks on the early church in the book of Acts. "They devoted themselves to the apostles teaching, to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. And awe came upon every soul and many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people."

This kind of bond that we believers share is not like any other. Close friends, spouses, parents and their children, brothers and sisters in human families will all one day be separated by death. It doesn't feel right. It's almost like we were made for some kind of enduring bond that transcends time and death. That's because we were. All history is marching relentlessly toward Revelation 7:9-17. God's word will not be set aside. He will accomplish His goal and that goal is to have a multitude that no one can number, white-hot worshippers who reflect His glory for eternity. We who know Him will look into His eyes and worship. We will see others there with whom we shared a bit of heaven on earth. Like these days in Romania have been.

I will miss my friends. I want to remember them forever.

Until that day I pray for Pastor Nicu and his family, Jenny, Deb, Beckah, and all the other dear ones whom Christ knit together in love, "that Christ might dwell in their hearts through faith and that they, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that they may be filled with all the fullness of God."

Suceava Day 4

We enjoyed dinner out tonight at a local restaurant with our team and the nationals who helped us by translating, sharing the gospel, turning wrenches and all sorts of tasks. Not far from the school where we've been staying is Hotel Zamca and the Fire Bulls restaurant. Honestly it was the worst meal on the trip so far - but of course you cannot count the meals on the airline! It isn’t that it was terrible, it’s just that we have been eating in peoples’ homes each night and the meals have been hearty and much better.

One purpose of the get together was to give gifts to Pastor Nicu, his wife Gaby and all the young people who helped us this week. It was hard indeed at the end of the night to say goodbye. I've been here only one week but I have grown close to them. Working alongside brothers and sisters in Christ I experience God knitting our hearts together when we purposefully work for the sake of the gospel. We have seen some amazing things. People have driven in some cases hundreds of kilometers to have a wheelchair evaluation with American physical therapists. We've watched the dwindling stack of wheelchairs yet we were always able to find the right fit. We've witnessed the tears of people as they watch caring hands touch their loved ones. We've succeeded in perfectly fitting a wheelchair only to find it's too heavy to carry to their fourth floor apartment (there are lots of accessibility issues in Romania).

Joni and Friends use the passage in Luke 14:15-24 to sum up their vision. They believe that God wants His kingdom filled with all people and especially the disabled. I've read that passage a few times since I signed up for this mission. It is an honor to be one of those who assists in the calling so that His house may be full.

Suceava Day 3

Wow.... a very difficult day. Such is life. Some days are great and you're on the mountain. God gives you glimpses of his power and it takes your breath away. Other days the stress is weighty and nothing is going right.

It seemed like all of our teeneagers were tired or who knows what and I had to keep after them. Or maybe my nerves were frazzled and no one could please me. I do remember at one point David, who has become like a little apprentice, was laying on the floor adjusting a wheel lock trying to get a chair ready. I asked him what was up, he just didn't seem to have the vigor he showed the day before. He said in his funny clipped English, "I'm just so tired". I gave him a hand with the wheel lock and he was pretty sure he had done it right. I said, "David, this won't work, don't you see?" He said, "I think it's fine". I just leaned back and started laughing and about that time the PT Jenny came in. She asked what was funny and I said "David has three days of wheelchair expertise and he thinks it's fine!" That was all we needed to breathe a little life back into our work and take the edge off the day. We started keeping track of the funny little sayings by writing them on the board. Like the time David was having trouble getting a hex bolt out of a seating system and in an attempt to spur him on I said, "Come on dude, use some muscle. Get all Romanian on it!"

One family came in and needed a chair for their daughter. She had low muscle tone and sat badly in a regular folding wheelchair. She just slumped. Jenny pointed out that a solid seating system would make all the difference in the world. She wouldn't let me steal it off another chair and wanted me to make it out of plywood, foam and some extra hardware. I'm not real good at that kind of fabricating on the fly but I bit my tongue and started the project. It took awhile, maybe an hour and a half. The family left and came back. Well, they didn't like the work. In fact I found out later they said it was junk in Romanian. Jenny left the room - she had forewarned us that sometimes it's best just to walk away. The thing was their daughter did sit up much better in a solid seating system. She wasn't slumping nearly as bad. But they were not happy so they picked out another wheelchair altogether and left. A little later I was considering the difference between the grateful families and this most recent one. When I started to get a little perturbed I heard His voice say, "My child, how many times have you showed Me little gratitude or none at all?" Ahh.... yes. Okay, Lord. I get it. I do not know what my attitude would be like if I had a child with a disability and all my day was providing for my family only to go home and be a caregiver for the night. Without God's grace in Christ my eyes would be closed to His love and my world would be dark. I would have occasional pleasures in this life just to keep my mind off the inevitable march toward old age and death. Ahh.... yes. Okay, Lord Jesus.

The last two of the day was a sweet little boy and girl. Different families but both mom's knew each other. We served them together cutting footrests and dealing with stripped bolts (I hate when that happens). Finally when we were all done I was back in the workroom with David and my crew of teenagers. Someone came in and said to me, "David, Jenny needs you." I thought, "oh no, what now?" I walked out into the hallway to see that little fellow we just served singing a song to us in his native tongue. The therapists were both there and almost all of our other workers. This sweet little boy was giving us a gift and my eyes filled with tears as he sang in the highest most beautiful voice. All my cares melted away as I thanked God for this gift.

Suceava Day 3...... I think it's fine.

Suceava Wheelchair Distribution Day #2

It's hard to find the energy to write. Monday, our first day of wheelchair distribution in Suceava, we gave out 26 chairs. Today we did 22. I'll remember these stories forever.





We had 7 teenagers helping today. Most were serving by translating and a couple were mechanics with me. Pastor Nicu's son David is very handy and learns fast. Our last little boy of the day was lots of fun. He had cerebral palsy and came walking in with his dad holding his arms. When I asked if they had a walker or a wheelchair they replied they had neither! The PT got him going quickly in a posterior walker and he was up and down the long hallway 4 times. The wheelchair was another matter.

We worked on that thing for nearly two hours! He didn't need much support, it's just that we had to mix pieces and parts from different wheelchairs to come up with the best solution. I will never forget the graciousness of the people here in Romania. Many of the chairs collected from the U.S. and sent here would end up in the dumpster at my shop. The families and users here are delighted to have them and appreciate every act of service we offer.

During our meeting tonight one of our PT's shared how she observed the gypsy family who came today. Mom pushed her daughter, who was about 30-years-old, into the reception area seated in her wheelchair. Jody, our writer on the trip, sat with the family while they were waiting and she was holding the patient's hands and kinda petting her, soothing her. Tears rolled down mom's cheeks as she considered the kindness shown by this American stranger. I don't think caregivers here are used to this.

Serving,

cu placere

Goodbye Buddy

Trey passed away Thursday at St. Jude's in Memphis. His family was by his side. Trey's disability wasn't fatal. It's just that with Ataxia-Telangiectasia comes the increased risk of lymphoma and that took it's toll on his weakened body.

I remember cutting the grass one Saturday and found a mostly hidden area on the side of my yard where a beautiful peony flower was growing. It was hidden from the street and the sidewalk. You would have to be looking for it to see it there. I wondered if God plants these disabled children among us and their broken bodies sometimes hide their beauty from my view. They're there, over to the side, hidden from the mainstream and God sees their beauty and they glorify Him in ways I don't understand. I want to see Christ in their faces. I do not want to miss their beauty.

Now Trey smiles like he has never smiled before. He moves purposefully and without the aid of a 200 pound wheelchair. I can only imagine his joy as he sees the one who died for him. I bet he's running and dancing. I love you little buddy.

Trey

A young man is battling for life tonight in a hospital in Memphis, Tennessee. I did several wheelchairs for him over the years. In fact, he was one of the first children I saw at clinic when I got back into this business over ten years ago. He was 13 then. I liked him immediately as I am sure everyone does who ever met him.

He has kind of a mischievous grin and would take you by surprise with some of his comments. He isn't hard to understand though you have to listen with both ears. He has a rare disease (about one person in 3 million are affected) called Ataxia-Telangiectasia or A-T for short. I cannot be sure but I think mischievous may run deeper than his grin because there was that time he ran his power chair straight into the family pool. His dad dove in and released his son from the seat belt and chest harness and brought him up to safety, thank God. Of course I was brought in to diagnose why the wheelchair wouldn't run - that was a no-brainer.

My friend and those who suffer with A-T have an increased risk of lymphoma or other cancers and their suppressed immune system limits treatment options. His mom has been at his side and I heard that his dad has been called and is probably there too. It's difficult to know how to pray. When I consider my friend struggling I want more than anything for him to be free. Not just from pain but from from the grasp of this disease completely. I imagine him dancing before the Lord in complete bliss because Jesus is there and he is set free and his body finally expresses his unrestrained joy. But, if our Father should call him home, I know his mom and dad would grieve terribly. So, I bowed my head and let the tears fall, grateful that His Spirit knows how to pray when I don't (Romans 8:26). Maybe I didn't cover everything but I trust Him who loves this young man much more than we can imagine and knows the pain his parents are feeling too. I love you little buddy.

Burglarized again

(A friend asked me to post this note here. It happened 6 months ago and I wrote it then.)

I think this is the 3rd or 4th time this has happened to me. Today’s burglary was the first in a long time. I was at work and got a call about 2:15 p.m. from my neighbor to tell me that he had Trudie my dog sitting on his couch. At first I couldn’t figure it out. The cleaning people were coming but they said they probably wouldn’t be there until 4:00. Plus they’re used to letting her out the back door to roam in the fenced back yard while they work. No, if Trudie had gotten out and went to a neighbor’s house she had to get out the front door. Someone had to have opened the front door.

I drove toward my home and my neighbor called me back to say indeed, the front door was opened and obviously not with a key. He called the police and they arrived shortly after I did. Not much appeared to be gone; a TV, DVD player, a gold ring and my “gig bag” filled with microphones, cords and other musical stuff. All the guitars were here and the place wasn’t ransacked. My neighbors showed up with Trudie and I was grateful for their kindness and glad to see my dog.

Now as I sit on the couch wondering about the events I think, how is Christ glorified in this? I remember a conversation I had with another neighbor last Saturday. He said he was a Deist. He believed a Creator began the entire world and cosmos but basically stepped back at that point letting us humans live out our days as we willed. I guess if I was a Deist I would not think about Christ in this situation. At best I would just have a que sera sera attitude and go about replacing my stuff. I would also hope the perpetrator got what he deserved. But I am not a Deist. I’m a Christ-Follower. A disciple. The Bible doesn’t leave room for Deism. It says that my times are in His hands (Ps. 31:15) and that He searches me and knows me and knows when I sit down and rise up (Ps. 139:1-2). He perceives my thoughts from afar and knows what I’m going to say before it is on my tongue (Ps. 139:2,4). Well, basically when I read that entire Psalm 139 it blows me away with His intimate closeness.

So I pray. I thank God for sparing my little dog today (you non-dog people may not get it) and I thank Him for the kindness of my neighbors. I thank Him for the possessions I do have left and secretly wonder if His grace would carry me through if the Martin D-42 guitar was part of the robber’s booty. I think of the guy using the crowbar on my door and start to get angry. Then I think of the things I have stolen when I was younger and I soften a bit. I think of the rock I hurled in juvenile delinquency through the window of Russell Lapre’s house and I’m ashamed. I think of the more secret sins that I’ve spoken of to only a few and I picture Jesus bearing them all. He deserved everything good and got the worst. I imagine His Father pouring His wrath like a torrent on Christ because of what I did. Because of what I am.

“Father, forgive the robber. Open his eyes and lead him to Christ, call him to yourself”. I imagine him somewhere, when the light of God’s love and forgiveness dawn in his heart. I can see the tears streaming down his face as he knows the touch of a Savior whose gentle touch can wipe away every sin. And I long for Christ’s heart to be formed in him….. and me.

Latter Day Saints

Well, it was kinda sad last night when my LDS friends left. I called them Mormon's but my friend Laura told me that it was more PC to refer to them as "latter day saints" or LDS's. That doesn't have the same ring to it or roll off my tongue as easily but I'm trying not to offend. Anyway, I will no longer be seeing them regularly and I'm a little bummed.

About 2 or 3 months ago these two fellas showed up walking down the narrow lane behind my house. I'm up on my back deck and spot the telltale short-sleeved white shirts and ties. Oh yes, and the name tags. They were looking for my neighbor, I think they were following a lead or a referral but I don't know how that works in the Mor... I mean LDS church. Anyway, I was hoping they'd take me cause I was sure I could pound away relentlessly at their theology until they came to Christ right there on my deck and then asked me to disciple them ongoing. Sure enough, they visited, we had a nice discussion and though we disagreed I liked these guys.

About a month later they showed up again. I was truly surprised because I had done a little more reading and felt like I wasn't a great prospect for their church. They place a high value on marriage and big families and neither were in my future. I figured they spent most of their time with younger couples and maybe those with greater kingdom potential, whatever that is. So, I invited them in and we talked about all kinds of stuff. It appeared they really weren't trying to convert me. I started thinking, hey.... what's wrong with me? Don't they want me? I WANT TO BE A MORMON, D*#% IT!!

Well, we talked on and on. One asked about my guitar collection and I sensed he had some musical training. Sure enough he was an accomplished trumpet player and had even been a member of the Blue Knights, a drum corps from Denver. He said he always wanted to learn to play the guitar. Hmmm..... I thought, I love to teach guitar, I used to do it all the time. I said, "would you like to learn?"

So that's how we started meeting regularly. Every Wednesday night in my home they would come. Me and "Blue Knight" would practice guitar and his friend would read a book. Once he would read the book of Mormon, another time it was the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Blue Knight and I labored over finger picking, chords, Amazing Grace and the pentatonic minor scale. Every once in awhile I thought, wait a minute.... I'm not doing my job. I need to point out to them the error of their doctrine. Don't you know God doesn't have flesh and bone? Jesus was never Lucifer's brother, for crying out loud!!! Well, I just didn't think that was the voice of the Holy Spirit.

We continued for a few weeks. "Reader" read a few books he borrowed from me and "Blue Knight" practiced consistently. He's going to be a good guitar player if he hangs in there. We talked and actually did delve into their doctrine a bit. I always felt like we went around in circles when we did that. I also felt like it wasn't my role to try to figure out if these guys were saved. Do they know Him? Are they Christians? They professed to know Him. Maybe a few more weeks and we would have spent more time examining the scriptures and working it out. Maybe God was ready to move them on to a more obedient servant who would more diligently work on them. I planted seeds. Or maybe I watered. I tried to always point to Jesus Christ and his completely forever finished work on the cross. No Aaronic priesthood is necessary any longer. There remains no more sacrifice for sins or any work we can do. It's all Jesus. Man, it is all Jesus!

I really like those guys.....

Note: "Reader" and "Blue Knight" are not their real names.

Wheels for the World

The World Health Organization estimates a need for 20-30 million wheelchairs around in the world. In some countries the cost of a wheelchair can equal an average worker's yearly wage. Consequently, many who are disabled are cut off from society and live in relative isolation. This impacts the ability of many to hear the gospel.

Through Joni and Friend's ministry "Wheels for the World" wheelchairs are collected from all over the United States. Inmates in selected penitentiaries refurbish the donated wheelchairs making them like new again. They are then shipped overseas to meet up with the missionaries who will be fitting them to the patients one by one.

Apparently there were some customs or ministry of finance delays getting the first container out of the Romanian port at Constanta. Our brother Daniel on the ground in Romania sent an email requesting our prayers. I could sense his frustration as he described the bureaucratic obstacles he was facing. (In some respects I suppose government is the same all over the world!) We short-term missionaries were praying in our respective cities. One brother in Oregon typed his prayer and sent in out in an email. It's kind of cool to be a part of the electronic global church. Emails flew back and forth as we prayed and we heard from Daniel again on Friday. The container was out of the port an unloaded at the distribution center.

Here is the recently freed container full of refurbished wheelchairs. I cannot wait to meet these people with whom I've been praying. Soon we will all be gathering for prayer in person. Email is cool but that'll be so much better.

This Kind of Love

Many years ago when I started reading the Bible daily I began to see Jesus as kind of aloof. Some of the things he said and did made me think of him as unfeeling, standing back from life and always evaluating everyone's motives and finding fault with people. It seemed like, as God in the flesh, he was suffering with the people for awhile until he could get back to heaven and reign as king again. Like there was that time in Matthew 17 when a man approached Jesus and implored him to heal his son. Jesus answered him, "O unbelieving and perverse generation, how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?" See what I mean?

This morning I had to take another break from Isaiah. Seems I have to steer my small group discussion this Sunday so I was looking at John 13. As I read I saw him differently. He knew his time was short, he knew he would soon die and he knew who was going to betray him. The Bible says "having loved his own who were in the world he loved them to the end." So what does he do? This is where he lays aside his outer robe, ties a towel around his waist and washes his disciples feet. Peter protests and Jesus tells him, "what I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand." He is still painstakingly teaching his men. He loved them dearly so he's preparing them, right up to the end.

A few minutes later the writer says that Jesus was troubled in spirit. Then Jesus tells them one of their own will betray him. Wait a minute. He knew this was coming. He talked about it almost from the start three years earlier. He came to give his life as a ransom and he knew this was coming all along. Was he troubled because now it was imminent? What does it say.....? It says he was troubled and then the first thing out of his mouth was about Judas' betrayal. Was he troubled over Judas? Did he love him? Was he hurting over him? This is no aloof king. This is a love like I've never seen. He loves the betrayer, right up to the end.

More than anything else I want to know this kind of love....

Serving

Recently I had house guests. Two male guests. During their stay I passed the commode in "the other bathroom" a few times and I watched it get a little dirtier and a little dirtier. Day by day as they used the facilities a new stain would appear or an obvious miss would catch my eye. I kept thinking, how hard can it be to ring the bowl for crying out loud? (For crying out loud is how I cuss since the Spirit started cleaning up my language.) It wasn't too unbearable because I had the master bathroom to myself and it was staying clean. Yep, spotless. You could eat off the.... well you get the picture.

On my second mission trip, the one to Mexico, I roomed with "Oscar". I was so completely "Felix". All my shirts folded and put into the drawers. Shoes (with shoetrees) lined up neatly in the closet. His opened suitcase stayed in the corner of the room for the whole week with clothing seemingly trying to escape the mayhem. I saw not even a sock folded! He actually left a pair of boxers on the window sill of our bathroom. Just laying up there like that was perfectly normal. With the window opened other Christian missionaries could walk by and see them laying up there like some sort of white trash flag. Nevertheless, in the evening when we talked and got to know one another and prayed for each other before turning in I realized I loved this messy dude. We joked about my neatness bordering on obsessive compulsiveness and his desire to basically live like a pig. (Well, that's how I remember it.) But you know, I would go anywhere with this friend and serve alongside him with joy. I never laughed harder than I did that week living with someone so different from me.

One Sunday morning after these recent guests had gotten dressed for worship I had a few minutes available and thought why don't I clean that commode in the "other bathroom?" Clearly it's something they cannot undertake, for whatever reason. I longed for Playtex Living gloves, those kind that go almost to your elbow - no chance of any wayward germ or jumping virus ever touching your skin. I went to my van and found an old pair of exam gloves we're supposed to keep for when we're working with kids that have infectious diseases. As they had been in there awhile they ripped to pieces as soon as I put them on. Alas, there was no way out. I had to tackle this unprotected.

As I was cleaning the commode and wondering why I had to stoop to do this and why they couldn't be cleaner I remembered my Lord. He took a basin and a towel and washed his disciples feet. Dirty, nasty, smelly feet. He touched them with his hands as he washed them one by one. God spoke to my heart, "this is what it means to serve." I smiled. Tears filled my eyes as I thought how backwards I have it most of the time. I did a good job.

The First Will Be Last

I have been in the book of Isaiah every morning for almost 2 years and I am only up to chapter 41. (I figure if God is doing the talking, if this is truly his word as it claims to be, then a mere mortal can plumb the depths of it for a lifetime and never exhaust all of its meaning.) Today I went on a neat tangent where I saw in verse 10 "fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God."

In studying the Bible inductively I don't jump to application. Detailed observation is always first. But when I got to the application and I considered how Jesus promised us he would always be with us I looked over at Matthew 28. He clearly says he will be with us "always, to the end of the age". I can fear not and be not dismayed for the simple but powerful truth that he is with me.

I am going to Romania to fit wheelchairs. My primary goal is to "make disciples of all nations" like it says in Matthew 28:19. It is my understanding that Wheels for the World passes on a Bible to everyone they serve. We will be telling the good news to all the people we can while we're there. We want to give the immobile mobility and help those with muscle weakness or abnormal tone to sit upright. But really, more than any of that, we want them to know him who calms their fears and dispels their anxiety by "being with them".

John Piper once said he imagined the disabled would be ahead of him in the receiving line (as it were) in heaven. Jesus did say the first would be the last and the last first. Oh God, give me an understanding that every disabled child or adult I serve is one for whom you died and one of those who will be leaping and running - ahead of me - to jump into your arms in heaven. That's cool. I'll wait my turn...

Romania in July!

So, this is it. The real reason for my postings.... In about 5 weeks I am headed to Romania with 8 others to deliver and fit custom wheelchairs. These aren't your everyday chrome plated hospital style fold-up wheelchairs, mind you. These are some involved mobility systems! And the people we'll be serving are those with cerebral palsy, spina bifida, spinal cord injuries and the like.



Take a look: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLhkdxEjKcw&feature=related



This is the type of work I do here in the states day in and day out. But here it's completely different. It's easier in many respects. I "spec" out the wheelchair, get it funded and then order all the pieces and parts. We have an excellent technician who assembles everything to my specifications. In Romania I'll be fabricating and ingeniously fashioning things on the fly. It's a little daunting. For one, I'm not all that ingenious. Would you mind praying for me? I want eyes to see solutions and skillful hands to serve.




We'll be sharing the message of Christ's love with everyone too. Another area where I'll need help. I've worked on rebellious wheelchairs before. Sometimes they will start to trick me into thinking I can accomplish something only to fail because a part won't fit or the right tool isn't at hand. Then I can tell the wheelchair is laughing at me so I start calling them names. Unkind names. Could you pray that Christ's peace will rule my heart and my speech will be graceful? (see Colossians 3:15 & 4:6)

Los Mochis

A year after Honduras and some of us are down in Los Mochis, Mexico to (you guessed it) build something, play with kids and preach the gospel. Well, it was a little different this time. The Baptist association for the state of Sinaloa asked us to teach some of their pastors. We prepared and practiced with one another and trusted God (for real, because we're all just regular people with jobs and stuff). My 30 minute presentation was squeezed down to about 12 minutes in a very hot room at Betel Bautista. The pastors were gracious and again I was touched by the reality of this Body of Christ phenomenon. Here are all of these people and we're separated by distance, language, customs and culture yet there is a familiarity and openness we shared. Jesus said "they" (meaning those on the outside who do not yet know him) would know we are his disciples if we love one another. I think the church is getting closer to this.

Short term mission #1

Two years ago I boarded a chartered 747 with over a hundred others from Birmingham, Alabama on our way to Tegucigalpa, Honduras. Our mission was to help build a small classroom, host carnivals for children, carry bottled water and food supplies to families and tell as many who would listen about a Jewish carpenter who lived 2,000 years ago and died so that they could have life in his name. This short-term mission trip, I later to learned, was not a unique experience. Over one million Americans travel abroad yearly, most often through a church fellowship, for the purpose of helping the poor and evangelizing.

What an experience! The hospitality of the people of Honduras was touching. The kids were fun to play with and patient with my poor attempts at Spanish. Worshipping with local Christians was truly memorable. Once when we were all singing "How Great Thou Art", the nationals singing in Spanish and we Americans singing in English, I think I glimpsed a bit of Revelation 7:9-10. The culmination of all history - people from every tribe and tongue worshipping and praising God!