Worms

Last Tuesday was a night of total chaos. Cindy was in quarantine recovering from COVID. She was staying in our guest room which has an attached bathroom, so it was almost as if she was in a different location. We talked by phone off and on between the times that she was resting. We were all sad that after the vaccine and the booster and careful attention to masking, COVID was still able to invade our lives.  She had a couple of bad days when we were really thankful for the vaccine because we could see how much worse it could have been. We were ready for recovery.

Late Tuesday she called me on the phone. It was clear that I needed to get to her quickly. She described the rapidly growing symptoms—tingling in body, followed by her hands drawing up into knots and then freezing, her speech becoming noticeably slurred. It looked a lot like a stroke. We thought of driving to the hospital. She tried to get up from the bed and then knew that her legs were not responding.  I went to call 911. I picked up our house phone, which we do not use much, but I figured it would be helpful in this situation. The handset’s battery was dead. I called on my cell phone. I answered questions.  I directed them to our house. I opened the door and moved furniture to facilitate the stretcher getting to her. We waited anxiously.

Since I was showing the symptoms of COVID and she had definitely tested positive for it, I felt it was important to inform the EMS team. We were all wearing masks. I asked if I could join them in the hospital. They advised me to wait at the house. They whisked her away. The door closed. Then I waited. It felt odd, but I had fixed dinner, so I sat and ate something. I paced. I wondered. It remained my of the first week of the pandemic when my Dad was in the hospital. Eventually, the word came from the nurse that I could join Cindy. I drove up to the hospital.

The team was efficient and helpful. They saw immediately that it was not a stroke and that it was probably due to potassium deficiency caused by dehydration from the GI distress of COVID. This was confirmed by blood tests. The treatment is to administer potassium through an IV. Unfortunately, it burns if given in a high concentration, so it takes several hours to drip it in. Eventually, they felt she had been given enough through the IV and the rest could be taken by pills. We loaded her up in the car and headed home.

Storms filled the air. The power went off in the house and 3 big worms were inside the house at the back door. It was unusual, but felt like par for the day. I got the worms back out of the house and then sealed the door with tape. I did not want more worms in the house and we had been having some trouble with the weather stripping. We were all exhausted and went to sleep. The dogs were freaked out by the ongoing storm and the sleet near me. The power came on in the early morning and lights came on, which was very dissorenting. I got up and shut the house down again.

The next morning I got up and went to check on Cindy. The floor was covered with worms. The dogs were dancing around trying to get to the back door and I was trying to hop from clear spot to clear spot. I got a broom and a shovel and started gathering worms at the back door and then ejecting from my house. It was grim work and some of them did not make it out in one piece. It felt like a biblical plague. I counted 24 worms. Most were over a foot long. Cindy later counted at least a dozen more in the guest room. It was freaky. In 26 years, we have never had such an invasion. I was told that the long rumbling thunder was to blame. I just know it came on a weird night for us.

The next day things seemed to be looking up until night approached and Cindy’s symptoms returned — tingling, slurred speech, knotted and frozen hands. This time we put her in the car before her legs stopped working. We drove to the ER and waited in the driveway. We confirmed with our Dr. that it takes several days for the potassium to level out. We waited for about 30 minutes and the symptoms began to subside. We went back home. I worked on the back door and the weather seal. Cindy went back to resting. Flickers of the symptoms revisited her several more times, none as intense as the initial attack.

The worms did not return. They left almost as mysteriously as the sickness. They are still out in the yard. I imagine that I cannot keep them out indefinitely. There is a huge unseen world at play in our lives. Germs in the air, minerals in our blood, worms in the soil. And there is an unseen spiritual battle. “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realm”. Eph 6:12. I think this has gotten lost in the last 2 years. People are looking for someone to blame and friends have been turned into adversaries. We have an enemy looking for every opportunity to undermine our world. Let’s not give into the enemy's chaos.

Scratching the rocks

Last week Io visited the desert. Wadi Rum is an awe inspiring vast stretch of desert in the southern region of Jordan. It sits on the King’s Highway. This is the route the children of Israel took as they traveled out of the wilderness at the end of their long sojourn in the desert. The route described in Deut 2:2–8.

The land looks unchanged since they came through the area. The dunes shift with the wind, but the high rock faces look on with disinterest. Those people saw what we see. The place is visited by four-wheeled drive vehicles who are outfitted to deal with the sand. Its a humbling place. The only way to feel is small.

After driving for several hours, we stopped in the middle at an historic gathering spot. Routes from the north and south and the east and the west converge. There the rock face has been pitted with images. The tour books tell us that over 45,000 Petroglys are carved into the walls of the hundreds of acres preserve. Many are thousands of years old. Many would have already been chilled into the rocks as they children of Israel marched through the area.

Some are easy to understand. The language gap, the cultural gap erased by the simplicity of the forms. We use the words ‘camel’ and ‘ostrich’ to desribe the animals, but everyone who sees them knows immediately what they are. The people of Edom and Moab traveled these areas long before Joseph was taken down to Egypt. I feel deeply connected to the past while standing before these images.

It’s strange to sit and look at these pictures knowing that Moses, Aaron and Joshua marched right past them, could have seen them, could have felt the abrasive surface of the grooves. The pictures tell stories, they proclaim presence, as if to say, “We were here!”

God promised Abraham the sand and the stars, that his influence, his family would outnumber them both. At the edge of the world, in the vast desert, there is not much more than sand during the day and the light of the stars at night. Both are shifting, the stars spinning each night and the sand swirling each day. The rocks, the only permanent signposts. Traveling through this world, even for a day, leaves an impression. There is no physical evidence of the children of Israel in these parts, except maybe some of them picked up rocks and pounded on the surface until faint lines began to emerge.

We are all trying to make a lasting mark in the world, but it will not be the images we leave behind, but the image of the one true God written on our hearts and on the lives of those we touch. That is the only thing that can possibly last into eternity.

Notes on sermon, Lost Sheep

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Depleted

I have a small travel CPAP. It is designed to be powered by an external battery. I have it so that we can camp and be off the grid and the people near me can still get a quiet night’s rest. The machine forces air inside my lungs so that I don’t get oxygen depletion in the middle of the night. It's a life saving, life preserving piece of amazing technology

Since we have not been traveling in the same way during the pandemic, I was surprised when I got it out recently to get ready to travel. It was no longer working. It had been sitting unused. I had a hard time understanding how it got broken in a box. I plugged it in and the screen flashed error 31.

I went to the internet and typed in the model number and the error code. I started to read so many similar stories, same confusion, same error code. Deep within a reddit thread I found a person who had an answer. There is a tiny battery deep within the machine. It is like a hearing aid battery, a tiny silver pill. When it runs out of power, it triggers the error code. Unfortunately, the battery is soldered onto the circuit board and cannot be replaced.

Well, that is not exactly correct. It is not designed to be replaced. I read about the process and then watched a YouTube video where a highly skilled electrical engineer removes the battery, puts in a battery holder so it can later be replaced more easily, and then fires it up with a new battery. He then has to go through a number of gyrations to get the CPAP to work, but finally he achieves the goal.

I ordered the parts and waited anxiously for them to arrive. Several days later the box was waiting on my porch. I found my tiny screwdriver set and began the tedious process of dissecting the machine. I paid careful attention to where each part went so that I could reassemble it after the transplant. Finally, I got the circuit board freed from the densely packed enclosure. Then to my frustration I saw that my model and the YouTube model were not the same. Different battery, different attachment. I struggled for a while but then gave up in defeat. I didn’t have the skill or the equipment to accomplish this task.

I reassembled it and now it is sitting forlorn on my shelf. I bought a new one and finally found someone that can repair the old one, but the price is about 2/3 of the new machine. I have not decided what to do yet.

I get to the state of depletion sometimes. I, however, have a built-in recharging system. A good night's rest does me wonders. Three days in the mountains is like sleeping for a month. I feel alive and rested and ready to go. Quiet dinners with friends, laughter, game night, bird watching, all fill my tank. Rich moments of spiritual communion-worship, singing around a campfire, discovering something in the Bible all give me a jolt of energy. If you have become depleted by the last two years, it’s time to recharge, it's not too late to get a second wind

Skunk

I was driving home from the lake when I saw a skunk whose white stripe was in perfect alignment with the white stripe on the side of the road. It was as if the highway department painted him in place.  I did not assume he was using it as camouflage. I did not assume he was sleeping. I assumed it was his last resting place. I was certain he would reek. I have passed lots of dead skunks and just the sight of him jolted my nasal passages into a Pavlovian response. It was as if all the past skunks  had little footholds in my sinuses. My body was warning me to stay away from this skunk.

I really wanted to take a picture. I thought it looked interesting. I was teaching my photo editing course and felt like I could highlight some focus issues and contrast issues with this image. I hesitated. Did I want to face the smell? Did I want to miss the picture? I have many regrets for seeing something that would make an interesting picture, but in my haste or preoccupation or just laziness not stopping to capture the image. I have tried recently to listen to my inner voice. I stop more frequently now. The stench or the regret?

I passed the carcass and pulled my truck off the road. I took a deep breath, popped open my door and hurried toward the scene of the crime. I waited as long as I could. Then an unwelcome thought flooded my mind.  My breath holding strategy was going to betray me. I was about to gulp down air. My lungs popped and my mouth opened. Nothing. There was no smell at all.  I got really close. There was hardly any wind. There was just no odor. I took my pictures and headed back to my awaiting vehicle.

I have thought about my little skunk teacher. Sometimes our experience so dominates our minds that we have almost no ability to come fresh to a situation. I was so sure about what I was facing, that I almost did not listen to myself. I was so ready to believe the worst that I almost missed the moment. Negative Interpretation is what it is called. In human relationships, “negative interpretation” is when one person believes that the intentions of another are more negative than they really are. If the feelings are deep enough, they “may somehow justify ongoing anger, resentment and aggression through criticism or disrespect” ("A Lasting Promise" Scott Stanley). Caution is a good thing. It protects us. A closed mind and heart is a bad thing, because they blind us.

Jesus was around a lot of people who were so certain that Jesus was a troublemaker, that they destroyed him. I think he would have a hard time if he showed up today. I think people would think the same things about him. They would blame him. They would try to ignore his challenges to their set patterns. What they would not realize is they are the ones giving off the stench of death while he exudes the aroma of love. Jesus is asking us to open ourselves to change and to the renewal of the mind.

Rings

I was walking through the woods in the Cain Center. It was a warm day and the sun felt good on my face as it filtered through the leaves. I would find pockets of bright sun and bask in it glow. The shadows on the ground testified to the birds flitting from twig to twig, but it was so bright when I looked up I couldn't see them. Some of them chirped, but none of them sang on that day.

I walked down a wooded path and noticed the chill. The shadow of a large tree obscured the light and the heat. I kept walking and eventually the darkness parted and the light returned. I noticed the colors in the forest - bright green sprouts, faded brown leaves, electric red berries, pools of golden light. The textures were rich, the smooth surface of the water, the coarse bark of trees, the granular earth beneath my feet.

I came around a corner and saw a huge log. It lay next to the path. It was well worn from people sitting on it for a rest. I stood at its end and noticed the rings. It had been an old tree, experienced in the ways of the forrest. It had stood tall. Some of the rings were narrow-hard lean times. Some rings were wide on those years when all the conditions were optimized. All the years made up the trees life and legacy. Now it is fading back into the forrest.

I thought of the last two years. There have been moments of joy and warmth, but there have been so many moments of darkness and chill. I kept reminding myself that we will come out on the other side of this. The sunlight will return. We will not be were we started. The path does not lead back in a loop, but to new territory. If we pay attention, God has new things for us to see and experience. God has new treasures and joys. Some of them might be obscured from our view, but they are there. Like the rings in the tree, we know that these have been lean years, but we have rich soil, and deep roots and God is not finished with us. Wide years are coming.

Barking Lot Greeter

I had an early breakfast meeting and then stepped out into the parking lot. The door had a bell on it and it jangled out an announcement of my presence. As I walked toward my truck, I noticed a dog in the bed of the truck next to mine. I took in the scene quickly trying to figure out if this dog was a threat or not. Too often, I have been greeted by barking, growling, and gnashing teeth. The dog had a pleasant face. He did not look aggressive or afraid. He just looked disappointed. His eyes were locked upon the doors of the cafe. The bell had excited him, but I was for whom the bell tolled.

I was talking to my friend. We were standing at the back of my truck. We did not see it happen. The dog abandoned his watchtower and attached himself to the door. He pressed his nose and face against the glass. He sat. He stood. He tried different angles, wishing for x-ray vision.

A few minutes passed We were still talking. The dog was still waiting. Suddenly, the door popped open and a couple walked out. The dog leapt to attention. His tail wagged like a scythe cutting wheat. He smiled and shook all over. They looked at the dog and then looked at us as if to say, “Is this your dog?” They were making the same calculation, “Was this going to be a safe interaction?”

“He jumped out of that truck,” we offered. They looked at the empty truck bed and then back at the dog. They gave him a quick tap on the head and then they walked toward their car. Everyone was smiling. This dog was so full of joy and anticipation. So ready to greet with reckless abandon. He did not care who came out of the door, he was the parking lot greeter.

I got in my truck to leave and then decided to take his picture. Two or three seconds later his “person” came ambling out of the door. The dog lost it. He was spinning and smiling.  He was circling the man’s feet like waves on the beach. It was hard to see how the guy kept moving forward. The dog leapt into the truck bed. All was right in the world. I thought to myself, “Good Dog.”

I drove away thinking about that dog. I was thinking that we would all be better off if our approach to the world was full of joy and gladness instead of fear and aggression. If we just gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. If we assumed the best. We would be better off, if bringing joy to others was more important than always having our way. If being together was enough to make a day fulfilling. Go have a good day.

Blur

I’m teaching a Connect Group about photo editing on a phone. There really are so many things that can be done to improve a picture. Things that used to take hours in a photo lab or thousands of dollars in camera equipment can be achieved on a cell phone. It’s amazing how far we have come.

When I was a kid, we had a black and white TV. The screen was small and very curved. We had rabbit ear antenna on the top and snowy reception most of the time. Then my Dad took a TV class using his GI Bill. In the class he learned to build and repair televisions. At the end of the class, he built a color TV. He installed it into a beautiful mantel he made for our home.

After the color TV, the black and white set was hardly watchable. I have no idea what happened to it as all our watching switched to the new screen. We were amazed at the colors and the brightness. My dad also installed an antenna in the attic. It looked like a futuristic satellite dangling from the heavens. While we were setting it up, he was standing above the ceiling yelling down to us as he tried to position for maximum signal. Thought his muffled screams, we were finally able to align it so that the picture grew sharp and clear. It was like looking at a photograph. Now the screen on my phone is so much better than that first color TV we got in 1968. It makes the old set unwatchable.

I hooked my phone up to the big screen in the Worship Center and showed how to change photographs. In particular, I showed how on new dual lease cameras a person can simulate an expensive camera lens. I showed how blurring the background can make the subject of the photograph much more prominent. I chose this picture of my dog, Shadow. By deemphasizing the clutter, the picture becomes easier to see.

Sometimes we are missing the moment because we are emphasizing the wrong thing. We focus on the clutter. When we had a black and white TV we loved it. We loved watching Slam Bang Theater, Mighty Mouse and the Lone Range. Once we got a color TV, we judged the old set harshly. Now that TVs are flat and large those old, heavy, color screens are bound for the junk pile. No one wants them. I love technology. I have moved on to bigger and better screens. I’m not suggesting that this is bad, but sometimes we lack thankfulness. We lack contentment.

In 1992, I met one of my heroes, Ron Sider. I owned most of his books. He was very influential in my thinking of Christian Ethics, especially in the area of world hunger. I went to see him in Philadelphia. We talked for several hours. He gave me a tour of his home. He showed me his black and white TV set. It was the only one his family owned. He was very happy with it. He was content. He is one of the best people I have ever met. He is a good man.

What is the important thing for you to focus on in your life? Is it the problems? Is it what other people are doing, what other people have? Is it being really present in the life that you have? Have you learned contentment? There are lots of distractions. Make sure you are focused on the right things.

Chaos

I sat at the water’s edge. The wind was cold. The surface was choppy. It was not a picture of peace. I was praying as our staff was gathering to strategize on ways we could help lead our church through some of the chaos we are all experiencing.

I sat quetly and listened. The wind was howling. I could not hear much else. The wind was blowing directly into my face it felt like it could blow a thought away. After about ten minutes, I heard the wind less and had began to concentrate on the sound of the waves hitting the dock. The rhythmic slapping became a quiet music. It’s so hard to know what to listen to or who to listen to. People are screaming at each other and against so many things. The airwaves are filled with chaos.

While the water was being churred into a froth, it had acquired a sort of harmony. So much so, that when a small pied billed grebe (a kind of bird) popped up on the surface to my right my eyes snapped to attention. The beautiful rust glint on his head was the only color in the area. He dove back under the water. I thought of how the top of the water was so disturbed, but that underneath the fish had not been inconvenienced. The bird was not bothered by the wind, he was hunting beneath the waves.

After he disappeared, a coot (a different kind of bird) came swimming by from the left. He was taking the wind on directly and he was making steady progress. The wind was obviously impacting his speed, but I could tell that he must have been paddling so fast under the water. Even when the wind is against you, you can make progress through effort.

After several hours of meetings I came back to the water’s edge. The wind had died down. The sun had come out. The top of the lake was still blemished, but had grown much more relaxed.

One day, the chaos of these days will relent, something else will be looming on the horizon I’m sure, but we will look back on these days and have a chance to evaluate our actions. Right now what we can do is live below the surface, in the deep places of love and meaning. We can paddle hard against the wind. We might not make as much progress, but we will make some progress. Pray for the wind to die down and the Son to rise up.

Panic

We were exiting a building. Just about 20 feet from the door, we saw the placard for the “Building Emergency Plan.” The frame was empty, just inky blackness staring back at us. I stopped to take a picture and then we went outside.

I’m not sure that a building Emergency Plan was necessary at that particular location. If there was any trouble, fire, intruder, earthquake or other act of God the only logical thing to do was rush outside. It was just three or four steps to be out in the open. No one, absolutely no one would pause to review the plan before acting. On impulse, people would flee the building.

It’s not a bad idea to have an emergency plan, in fact it’s a good idea, it's just that during an emergency there is no time to review the plan, there are just “blink responses.” My Dad worked at American Airlines. The last ten years of his career he trained pilots to deal with emergencies. They developed strategies to deal with the wind shear, with failed landing gear, for mechanical, electrical, and computer problems. In each instance, they attempted to teach the flight crew how to act instantly, without thinking, mostly by muscle memory, when certain emergencies arose. Seconds mattered. Following the procedure exactly mattered. Lives depend upon it.

Most of the emergencies we face are not so urgent that we can’t pause and think before we act, but occasionally we are confronted by a momentary opportunity that can pass quickly if we don’t know how to step in. Peter counsels us, “in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander” (I Peter 3:15-16).

I think our culture is in an emergency. The gap between the behavior of Jesus and the behavior of the people that say they follow Jesus seems to be widening. Almost every day we are faced with choices on how to act, how to respond, and what to say to others.

Jesus has given us the emergency plan. It is clear. It is always the first response we should have. We never have to think about it. It ought to be our muscle memory. It is encapsulated in John 3:16 - self giving love. In a crisis, in a confrontation, love is always the right next step.

Spool

I heard a noise in the bedroom. It was small ‘clink.’ I ignored it for a second. I got up to see what it was and then almost immediately sat down. I realized it was the little vacuum robot. We got it for Christmas and it has been a delightful addition to our home. It apparently loves to clean the floors.

On Monday, Wednesday and Friday it sets out at 10AM to scour our house looking for dirt and animal hair. It announces itself on my phone. I can check on it during the morning. The app on my phone shows a little map of its location, its battery usage, how full the filter bag is. After it finishes it returns to base and the recharging unit empties the canister automatically. Then it texts me that it is finished.

The noise must have been what I heard and I went back to what i was doing. Then my phone lit up. The robot was calling for help. It said, “Some object may be wrapped around the main brush.” About that time I heard it beeping in my bedroom. I found it under the bed. It was blinking a sad color of orange.

I retrieved it. The brush unit on the bottom was completely entangled with blue thread. I knew immediately that it was from the spool of thread that had been on my night stand. I looked around on the floor and found the empty, white cylinder. I had just moved it that morning and it had been a full. I don’t know how much thread is on a new spool, but it must be about 3 miles. The little robot was nearly complete tied in knots.

I took it into the other room. I felt like a surgeon removing a tumor. I cut and pulled and dissected. It was tightly knotted and resisted my efforts. Twenty minutes later I finally extracted the last thread. I placed him back where I found him and set him free. An hour later it reported in that it had finished.

Cleaning up is messy difficult work. Getting involved with people is messy difficult work. In the middle of helping people you are liable to get tied up in their hurts and pain. You might yourself get all tied up in knots. It will be stressful to care for other people, but it is the task God has given to us, to bear each other’s burdens. It’s our job, our calling, our privilege. Let’s go.

Too Early?

I’m a big fan of cold weather. I love winter. I think it is because I was raised in Colorado and New York up until the second grade when we moved to Texas. I had lots of white Christmases. One year, I remember climbing up a snow drift and jumping off into a snow bank. I’m sure it was hard for the dads who were shoveling the snow out of the driveways, but it was a winter wonderland to me.

The last few weeks have been exceptionally warm and mild. I saw this tulip tree in full bloom. It seems to think that spring has sprung, but I fear there might be some cold weather around the corner. We have one in our yard and it always seems to over estimate the signs that winter is over. It has gotten walluped more than once by a freeze and the blossoms look so terrible - brown and bruised and limp.

It feels like COVID. We keep hoping that it is over. We kept acting like it is over. The number of people I know who are sick with it continues to climb. I still hear about people I know who are dying. We are all so exhausted and fatigued from it all.

We are not good at long-suffering. We want all the trouble to get over with quick, but this new reality of waves of illness and death looks like it will be our new future. I’m wondering how we will look back on this in ten years. When we have some distance and perspective will we be thankful for our response or regretful? Will we wish we had been more careful or less careful? Will we think differently about our individual freedoms and our community responsibility?

I took a COVID test on Friday morning. It came back negative, which I suppose is a positive. I had a running nose, a cough and a bad night of sleep. I was worried about Sunday and preaching and thinking that I needed tor record my sermon if I could not preach it live. I was worried because we had been to New Orleans and the Sugar Bowl. I wore my N95 mask to the game and most of the time we were in public, but not the whole time.

I wish I had insight, mostly, I just feel like we are slogging through this terrible time, but because of the polarization in our world, it feels like we are walking alone. The Bible encourages us to bear on another’s burdens. I pray we can get back to that.

Rupture

In the week before Christmas, our Treadwalker broke. That treadmill had taken us a lot of miles. I averaged about 2 miles a day, 6 days a week for nearly 2 years. When it broke, it broke in glorious fashion. There was a loud noise, grinding, a sudden burst of speed, and then it froze.

I watched videos to see if I could diagnose what was wrong. I watched people replacing various parts on their equipment. I took mine apart. I looked at ordering replacement parts, but it would be a shot in the dark. The parts were hard to find as the model has not been made for several years. I bought it used from a guy in Canton. I was glad to get it at a reduced price and he was glad to get rid of it because it was his ex-wife’s and he never used it. We were unsure if we would use it, but it has provided a reliable outlet for exercise and I think we wore it out.

It meant that we ordered a new piece of exercise equipment. It arrived the day after Christmas. It was delivered during church and they sent me a text telling me so. I was anxious to get it off of the porch. I thought I had a package stolen (I was wrong, I had misplaced it), but I still had a feeling someone might grab it. I was needlessly anxious. When we finally arrived home, it was out front and there was a huge hole in the side of the box. I had a sinking in my guts that parts would be missing. We had two urgent time commitments and the best I could do was drag it off of the porch. I cleaned house, we had people over for a Christmas get together and when they left, some different friends came. It was not until late that I began to peer into the box.

The assembly instructions were long. I took out all the parts I could find. There were so many and I could not tell if anything was missing, but due to the size of the hole I was sure something would need to be replaced. I started into the process. The first four bolts proved nearly impossible to manage. I dropped one into the machine and had to spend 20 minutes recovering it. I was tired from the day and I decided to start fresh in the morning. It took a couple of hours to get it completed. There was not a single part missing. My dread was wasted energy. The first workout was hard and I could see that this machine is going to help take us to a new level of fitness.

This next year stretches out ahead of us. If we concentrate on all of the problems, we will be quickly overwhelmed. It we concentrate on the opportunities, we will be pleasantly surprised. God has good things in store for us. The last two years have trained us to see the difficulty. We see the hole in the side of the box. We anticipate trouble long before we know if there is real trouble. We are tired and frustrated from the fight and so we actually make things worse. Instead, get some rest. Let’s start over new. Just like exercise is a habit, so our attitude is a habit. Let’s practice seeing the best and not the worst.

Remember

My phone seems to be in a death spiral. Sometimes I touch the screen and it will not respond at all. I type things and it substitutes letters or ignores me. I try to open a photo and it jumps down and opens a different picture. Several times it has selected ‘DELETE.’ I panic and shut the phone off when I see that. I tried to take some pictures with it and it takes snapshots of the floor and they are blurry. It got really bad last night and I was at a Christmas celebration so I just kept it in my pocket hoping I could keep it alive until I could back it up.

This morning I started the long process of backup and troubleshooting. I got it to backup which was a relief. I ensured that all the photos were backed up in a different place. So now I can relax a bit and try to solve the problem. I contacted support and started texting back and forth. It was not going well. I would send lots of information and it did not seem that they were reading my messages as they would ask me about information I had already sent them. I told them my phone was working and ten questions later they asked me if we were talking about my phone. I dug into my phone and found the version of the software. I have 15.1. They told me I should be at 15.2. I began to pull out my hair. Before I contacted them I tried to get the phone to update, which it said it did, but apparently that was incorrect. I started the update procedure. I am watching the little update line crawl across the screen right now, wondering if this is going to work.

My phone has become an extension of my memory. It remembers things for me. I used to know lots of phone numbers. I still remember my grandparents number, JE5-8011. It has not been used for years. Now, I barely remember my own number because my phone has it locked in its binary code. I used to make scrapbooks of trips, now my phone chronicles each adventure and when I scroll through my images I am transported back in time to those beautiful frozen moments. I count on my phone to keep track of appointments and to remind me when they are coming. It sits up all night waiting to give me a nudge in the morning to wake up. Losing my phone is like losing part of my brain. Sometimes I hate how absorbed people are on their phones, but I understand how deeply we are connected to them as they have become an extension of our own memories.

During the early days of the pandemic, I scanned lots of my family and childhood pictures into the phone. Now it remembers things I have completely forgotten. Last week I pulled up a picture of my grandparent’s home to share with my cousins. Then,I saw in a shadow on the front lawn a picture of my Dad. I don’t ever remember seeing him in the picture before, but there he was. It was a beautiful greeting.

As we come to the end of the year, take some time. Try to remember the beautiful and the good. Try to forget the ugly. Don’t forget all that God has done for you.

Tire

I happened to be looking out of the window of the restaurant at just the right moment. A gold pickup truck was driving down West Corsicana street when the tire failed and came off the rim. The truck kept going for a few more feet until the tire completely separated and was trapped under the back wheel. The truck moved a a second more just on the rim. Then it came to a stop.

People were looking out of the windows. We were checking out and I went outside to see what needed to be done. The driver of the car looked at the empty rim. He looked in the bed of the truck and then took off down the road. I walked closer. I saw the head of a child in the front seat and then another man. I dialed 911. I told them about the stranded car, that it was in the middle of the road (luckily its a turn lane) and that it looked dangerous.

I walked to the curb and yelled to the people in the truck. I told them I had been rear ended before. I was worried about them. The light seem to dawn on him and they decided to come join me on the curb. As they got out I saw an even younger child in the back seat. It took nearly a minute to get a clearing safe enough to walk out to them and then walk the kids back. Cindy went to get some cookies from her van and we sat with the kids and watched the drama play out.

Another truck drove up behind them and got out to see if they could help. We found out the driver had walked down the road looking for help because he did not have a jack in the truck. The new arrival had a jack and started to work lifting the hulk. It was not going well. The jack was small, the lift was tall. The police arrived placing the squad car as a shield the man under the truck. A spare tired got rolled to the front. The lug nuts loosened, but the rim was still sitting on the pavement. Then it lifted a few inches into the air, but not enough.

A man on a bicycle was rolling down the sidewalk. I was moving to get out the way as he neared. He had a skateboard in his lap, which I thought was a funny juxtaposition. He stopped short of us and got off the bicycle. He had a huge car jack in his lap. He had to wait nearly a minute to walk out to the truck. He put it under the frame but he didn’t have the pump handle. The driver was running up the street with it and arrived winded. In a jiffy the truck was in the air, the spare tire was on. The policeman left and the truck pulled into the restaurant and loaded up the kids.

I followed them to the tire shop where the jack had come. I drove off. Then I called the tire shop to see if they were going to get a tire (I was planning to pay for it, I thought it would be fun to do it anonymously in the spirit of Christmas), but they just dropped off the jack and left. I was not sure that any of it made much of a difference. The driver got the help he needed. The kids didn’t like cookies. No one came vaguely close to hitting them. They were on their way in a few minutes. The kids seemed confused that we made them get out of the truck. My secret Santa plan was dashed.

I think I would do it again. I think helping does not always go the way we anticipate. It is not always a hero story. Sometimes it’s a quiet obedience story.

Sheep

Our parade float last week was the shepherds being directed to find the new born baby Jesus. We had a huge angel ready to go, we had shepherds large and small, we had a float covered with float paper, a sign, music, peppermint handouts and a truck, but two hours before we did not have any sheep. Someone wanted a sheep. What are all these shepherds doing? What is keeping them in the field. If we have shepherds, we need sheep.

Live sheep seemed out of the question. So what could we substitute? We went to TSA wondering if they had any stuffed animals that might look like sheep. They had darling little cows, unicorns and a few chickens, but no sheep. We went to Walmart. They had lots of stuffed animals, but no sheep. We finally found a couple of sheep, but they were the size of Guinea pigs, so they would not help fill up the float.

I started to brainstorm. I looked for a coat that I could turn inside out that was filled with that curly fake fur that is inside some winter jackets. I started trying to figure out how to create a sheep costume for my dogs. I could not find any of those coats. I abandoned the idea quickly. My dogs would never stand to wear a costume.

We decided to make sheep. I looked up a picture. Three things define a sheep: fluffy body, hanging down ears, and a black face. We grabbed pillow stuffing for the bodies. We snatched up goggly eyes. Then I thought of stuffing big black socks for the faces. I headed to find socks, but stopped at house shoes. There was an animal foot shoe. It had three big talons sticking out the front. I turned it upside down. I folded it in the middle. I imagined the eyes. I needed three sheep, so I grabbed two pair. I meant to grab socks for the ears, but I was panicky about the time.

We rushed home. In a flurry I cut off the toe and glued it in place as a nose, I got the hot glue and attached the eyes. I stuffed the inside of the shoe to form the ridge of the face. I grabbed some of Cindy’s socks and zipped tied them on for ears (she is expecting me to return them). We took the batting out of the plastic and wrapped it with string to keep its shape together. Then I pushed a dowel rod through the fluffy batting and into the shoe and hot glued on the head.

We arrived at the parade with just a few minutes to spare. The shepherds were happy. It was right to have sheep on the float. That is why the angel was there. That is why Jesus was there.

The shepherds at Bethlehem were not raising pets, but sacrifices. They provided them to the Temple in Jerusalem. It’s no wonder that Jesus was born there among the other sacrifices. He was adorable, but the life laid out before him ended in suffering. As John said, Behold the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (John 1:29).

Fair Weather

“Are you going to the game?” The question went out to my friends who have season tickets to the Baylor Games. I had been offered tickets on Friday. The game was Saturday. I was hoping to meet up with my friends at the game.

The responses were quick and enthusiastic. “We are going,” said one. “We are going. Hoping the game is tied up before the rain starts.” The second one caught my attention. I had not paid any attention to the weather. I read the dire predictions. It did not matter to me. I have rain gear. I have sat through lots of terrible weather. I was excited to meet my friends.

We traveled down to the game. We were dressed for battle. Long underwear, hats, gloves, jackets and rain gear. We suited up at the car and hiked over to the stadium. We arrived at our seats just a few minutes before the game kick-off. The stands were sparsely filled. I have to be honest. I was disappointed and a little judgmental. I could not believe that a little rain would keep this many people from attending.

I scanned the stairs. My friends never showed up. Middle of the game I texted them. “In our seats. Cushions dry. No rain.” The game was tense and not decided until the very last seconds. We yelled and cheered and worried. The rain did not come. People missed the game because of a hypothetical threat. It started to rain after the game was over but we were headed to the car and it was not a big deal.

People miss a lot in our world because they want to be comfortable. They choose ease over sacrifice. They choose the known over risk. They choose isolation over community.

Jesus called us to the difficult ways. He called us to face rejection, persecution and resistance. He called us to live in the world, but not be of the world. We can’t retreat and hide indoors. We have to go and live in the world, but we need to put on the armor of God. I was sad my friends were not at the game. They missed an exciting memory. It made me wonder how much I have missed out on in life by playing it too safe, when courage is required.

Boost

On Friday everyone was cleared for the COVID booster. On Monday morning I made an appointment. By Monday afternoon I was sporting a bandage with a minuscule dot of blood in the middle. I was so happy. I told the nurse, “I love science.”

The human body is a an amazing creation. God did good. Now, I have questions that I hope to ask God when we get a chance sometime in the future. “Why do lower backs fail at such a high rate?” “Why can’t the things I love to eat do me good instead of harm?” Why couldn’t chocolate cake, donuts, and Dr. Pepper be part of the food pyramid?” I figure God has answers. One thing I intend to say is, “Way to go on that whole immune system.”

It’s a miracle that my body can learn to fight off illness. It’s inspiring that it gets stronger over time and can remember previous attacks. I saw someone the other day that I had not seen in years. I only vaguely recognized them. My immune system has a much better memory.

I’m so glad I live in the era of vaccines and vaccination. Next to clean water, nothing has been as significant in reducing the suffering of our world. I have all the vaccines that kids get, polio, diphtheria, tetanus, small pox, measles, mumps, rubella. Later, as I began to travel on mission trips I got a tetanus booster. I got typhoid pills. I got a yellow fever shot (expensive and difficult to get). I have had a pneumonia shot and I get the flu shot every year. I love teaching my body new tricks.

When I look back on 2021 and give thanks to God, I’m thanking him for brilliant scientists. I’m thanking him for a crazy amazing immune system. I’m thanking him for our local medical community that continues to give me the great advice. I’m not sure where this all went off the rails. I pray that we can reestablish trust. I hope everyone will get vaccinated because I believe that it saves lives, that it makes a difference not only to you but to our community. There is an article written in 1915 (long before the issue of vaccination was controversial) about Edward Jenner the inventor of the vaccine. It’s worth a read to get 100 years of perspective (click here). This man who did so much in the name of God to relive suffering said, "I do not marvel that men are not grateful to me, but I am surprised that they do not feel grateful to God for making me a medium of good." I hope you will all be brave and safe and get the jab and thank the Lord.

Follow Me In

The Texas Baptist meeting was held in Galveston this year. Cindy and I went. The city sits on the edge of the gulf coast. The main road separates the hotels from the beach. The last time we were there was in 2005 and that was for only a few hours. We went to celebrate a friend’s birthday.

We arrived on Sunday night as the sun was setting and had just a few minutes to stand on the beach and watch the orange glow fade to black. The next morning, I got up early. I don’t love the beach. I don’t love the sand. I don’t love laying on the beach. I do love the waves. I love walking on the beach. I love the shells, birds and smell. I love the wind.

I stopped and stared at the horizon. The sky was alive and glowing and then a tiny jewel of light thrust up into the sky. The ripples at the horizon danced as the sun came to life once again. Then I started to walk and take pictures of birds and waves and the odd shapes of shells in the sand. The waves were small and the rhythm was like a gentle lullaby. My feet barely made a sound.

In the distance, a dad walked out into the water. I lifted my camera thinking it might make a good picture, a fisherman standing in silhouette with rod in hand. Then I saw what I had not seen before, a small boy in big rubber boots splashing happily into the surf, right behind his dad. He stood and smiled as the hook was baited and then flung into the sea. I walked and watched. He looked so contented watching his dad. He did not run off. He was not preoccupied. He was focused on his dad. He stood in his big boots rocking back and forth having a great start to the day.

Jesus said, “the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does” (John 5:19). What is God doing and wanting to do in our world? Are you watching him? Are you distracted and doing what you want to do or are your eyes focused upon God? Too often our eyes are on our own preferences, our own ideas, but Jesus showed us the way to live with our eyes focused on God and God’s glory. May your eyes be filled with wonder and joy this week as you see God at work around you.

A Rare Treat

There seem to be fewer birds around us right now. I’ve been told that the freeze last year was devastating to the bird population. While camping in Rusk we were surprised by the silence of the forest. We spent a long time walking in the woods looking and listening, but did not see or hear anything. Then we heard a bird. Eventually, we heard a Blue Jay’s distinctive cry and then saw him hiding among the leaves.

Later, back at camp, I saw a bird fly high in the trees. It had a peculiar flight path that indicated a woodpecker. It’s like a rising and falling sign wave. He was high in the tree moving quickly around the trunk. My camera was 100 yards away, so I dashed to get it. I returned and scanned the forest canopy only to be disappointed by the stillness.

Then from high over my left shoulder two large black birds skimmed the tops of the trees. I knew what they were instantly. It has been thirty five years since I have seen one. It was a Pilated Woodpecker. The last one I saw was while camping in Tyler State Park.

We were entertaining a couple who had never been camping and we were hoping they might join the tent movement. We went early, set the camp up and made out their beds. Everything was ready for them when they arrived. They were not converted. The next morning she slept in late, but the rest of us got up and went on a hike. The woodpecker was about 20 feet off the ground. He was huge, about the size of a cat.

I saw him first. I gathered the little group. Urged them to be quiet and said, “It's a rare treat.” They have made fun of me ever since. Last Saturday I saw one again and I contend that my original assessment was true. “It was a rare treat.” I chased the pair through the trees. They were very skittish. I only got two pictures, but I was filled. I was remembering my mother, she loved birds, my father, he love cameras, my friends, they hated camping but loved us. It was just about perfect.

What do you treasure? What is a rare treat to you? What are you missing? As thanksgiving approaches, look around for the blessings of life, the small moments, the rare instances when beauty is all around you and say, “Thanks.”