In Spirit and In Truth – Part 2

In the second sermon of his series (17 Aug 09), In Spirit and In Truth – Part 2 [MP3 sermon link], Paul De Jong shared a study of how much time, based on a 24-hour day, is spent doing certain activities, if you live to be 75 years old:

• 3 years in school
• 7 years eating
• 14 years working
• 5 years driving or other transportation
• 5 years talking
• 1 year recovering from sickness
• 24 years sleeping
• 15 years amusing yourself (TV, movies, reading, gardening, etc.)

And here’s the kicker: 5½ months in church (assumes Sunday attendance only)

This sermon is about proximity to, priority of, and praise to God.

In Spirit and In Truth

I just discovered this guy – Paul De Jong – pastor of Life Church in New Zealand. In the first sermon of his series (10 Aug 09), In Spirit and In Truth [MP3 sermon link], he made this really exciting statement:

God reminded me, “O, Death, where is thy sting?” There’s no sting. God’s got destiny in front of us. Christians should be excited. You know, we grieve, and we feel grief. That’s right. But at the same time, don’t you allow what’s happened to this point to lie to you about what’s coming ahead of you. We get stuck on the things we’ve lost. We get stuck on the things that aren’t working, rather than God saying, “Hey, if I said I’m going to give you Canaan, Canaan’s coming your way!”

The Gods Aren’t Angry

One of the greatest Jesus stories I have ever heard

I just got Rob Bell’s video, The Gods Aren’t Angry [Amazon.com link] the other day, and finally had a chance to watch it last night. Heartily recommended!!!

Near the very end of the video, Rob Bell said this:

The writer Brennan Manning tells the story about a woman, who had been having visions of Jesus. And the local archbishop comes to find out more about this woman, who had been having these visions about Jesus – because we can’t have that.

The archbishop says, “Have you been having visions about Jesus?”

The woman says, “Yes.”

She does not back down, so the archbishop said, “Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Next time you have one of your visions of Jesus, I want you to ask Jesus a question.”

“Okay,” the woman said.

“I want you to ask Jesus what sins I confessed the last time I went to confession.”

The woman said “Fair enough.” And the archbishop leaves.

A little while later, he hears rumors that she’s been having visions again about Jesus. So he returns to the woman and says, “Have you been having visions of Jesus again?”

And the woman says, “Yes. I’ve been having a vision about Jesus.”

And he says, “Well, did you remember?”

And the woman says to the archbishop, “Yes. I did remember.”

And then she took the archbishop’s hand in hers. And she said, “I asked Jesus what sins you confessed the last time you went to confession. And Jesus’s exact words were: I don’t remember.“

Empty Arms

Christmas 2008

At the end of 2007, our 401K was getting bigger, our house had appreciated in value so much that we decided to renovate and add a room, and things were humming along. Now, a year later, we have a 101K, there are a lot of houses for sale in our neighborhood (and none are selling), and there might be more “surprises” ahead.

In the book of Exodus, we read about how the children of Israel finally left Egypt, after 430 years of slavery and 10 supernatural acts by God. They asked their Egyptian masters for lovely parting gifts (gold, silver and fine clothes). Glad to see them go, the Egyptians complied. But a few days later, with their back against the Red Sea and an army with revenge in their hearts bearing down on them, these riches were worthless. A gold platter does not make for a seaworthy vessel.

Saved from their attackers by another act of God, these bling-toting former slaves were now on the other side of the Red Sea – in a desert. They had plenty of gold and silver, but there was no grocery store in site to swap these highly prized valuables for the common foods of leeks and onions they had enjoyed in abundance just weeks before. There was nothing they could do – except rely on God. They grumbled, complained and sort of prayed. And then the quail came. And the manna. And it kept coming for the next 40 years.

The gold and silver are never mentioned again. Nehemiah (9:21) tells us that their clothes did not wear out. But there is silence about the shiny stuff. I suspect that what was not abandoned on the shores of the Red Sea, while they high-tailed it through the parted waters, was eventually shed over the next 40 years. Who wants to keep dragging gold and silver through a dessert year after year? You can’t spend it anywhere, and it just weighs you down. In the end, the quail and bread, provided by God, was of greater worth than the gold and silver, provided by man.

And so it is with our family, as we approach the end of this year. We are very blessed, so our hands are still full of things. But hands filled with man’s things leave no leftover room for God’s things. So, while our stuff is pretty to look at, and has great value (sentimental, if nothing else), if called upon we will gladly chuck it all, so that we may have totally empty hands to receive greater things, more valuable things.

The first Christmas scene illustrates a great truth: In order to pick up the young Christ child, and receive Him into his arms, Joseph had to put down his tax money, the shepherds had to put down their staffs, and the magi had to put down their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrhh.

Empty arms can be a wonderful thing.

Merry Christmas!

Final Salute: A Story of Unfinished Lives

I bought two books to read for a weekend trip coming up. I thought I would start with Final Salute: A Story of Unfinished Lives, the “lighter” one.

This book by Pulitzer Prize winner Jim Sheeler should be required reading by every elected federal government official (executive and legislative branches). And you should read it too.

As President Reagan reminded us in the speech he gave at Pointe-du-Hoc, on the celebration of the D-Day invasion, “there is a profound, moral difference between the use of force for liberation and the use of force for conquest.” While Final Salute does not debate the moral merits of the war (I have only read 1/3 of it so far, but this is probably true of the entire book), as one who believes the Iraq war is immoral, I am consumed by the overwhelming sense of loss captured in this book. And this is why our elected officials should be forced to read it.

As one president has noted (I thought it was Reagan, but it may have been Lincoln), young men who die in battle pay twice: once with the life that they give, and the other with the life they never had the chance to live.

Final Salute reminds us of both lives lost. It is not really a “light read”, but it is an important one.

“Sweater Day” – March 20, 2008

March 20, 2008 would have been Mister Rogers (Fred McFeeley Rogers) 80th birthday. To commemorate the event, his production company, Family Communications, Inc., is asking fans to don your favorite sweater for the day. You can even send them pictures or videos of your tribute [ FCI's Sweater Day page ].

============

Growing up in Pittsburgh in the 1960s, Mister Rogers Neighborhood was pretty big stuff. It hit the Pittsburgh airwaves around 1968, and I just assumed it was just a Pittsburgh show (like “Ricky and Copper” in the morning, and Paul Shannon in the afternoon). It wasn’t until much later that I realized much of America could, and did, watch him.

Like my father, Mister Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister. Both were members of the Pittsburgh Presbytery. I vaguely remember my dad coming home after the presbytery meeting where they voted to support Mister Rogers’ television outreach/ministry.

One time, the phone rang at the manse and I answered it. The male caller asked to speak with my dad. When I asked him who was calling, the man replied, “Fred Rogers”. I was so excited, I ran to get my dad, yelling and screaming that Mister Rogers was on the phone and wanted to talk with him. The voice didn’t sound like that friendly voice I heard each weekday on the television, but all I knew was that Fred Rogers was calling to talk to my dad.

When my dad came to the phone and said “hello”, he laughed. It was Father Fred Rodgers, from the local Roman Catholic church, not the Mister Rogers. I only knew Father Rodgers as just that: Father Rodgers. I had no idea his first name was Fred. I didn’t know anyone else was named Fred Rogers. To me, there was only one.

I also have a vague recollection of seeing the “Mister Rogers Neighborhood” set at a downtown Pittsburgh department store. I think it was Kaufmann’s (even though we only shopped at Gimbel’s). It may have been Horne’s. Those were the only three downtown. The set was not used, but you could walk past it and see it.

I could not find any mention of this via my Internet search, so I may have managed it. My dad also knew, at one time, the general manager of WQED-TV, the Pittsburgh public television station. Actually, he knew the man’s wife – they went to college together and our families ran into each other outside Forbes Field, after a Pittsburgh Pirates ballgame once, and the friendship was rekindled. So we went to the WQED station a few times, and I may be confusing these two. But it feels like I’m right about the former.

Most things about Mister Rogers, I took for granted. Like how he didn’t sell out to marketing his neighborhood. There was that other children’s television show that was popular at the time. They only had one Street, and Mister Rogers had a whole neighborhood. Yet, you didn’t see the whole commercialization sellout. Yes, he probably lost out on untold millions. But he had different priorities.

Spend some time searching the Internet and reading the stories from people whose lives were touched by this special neighbor. Then find your favorite sweater and wear it on March 20th!

The rich just get poorer

Today was David’s 14th birthday. Nancy had this conversation with Samuel, our youngest, today…

“What do you want to get David for his birthday?” Nancy asked.

“I can’t get David anything for his birthday,” Samuel explained. “I don’t have any money.”

“Well, if you did have money,” Nancy countered, “what would you want to get David for his birthday?”

“If I had money, I’d first have to give some of it to God,” Samuel said, matter-of-factly. “Then the rest of it I would have to give to people who don’t have anything. So I still wouldn’t have any money to buy David something for his birthday.”

My daily bread

Yesterday, while on a business services website, I came across a link to this website, promoting “The Science of Getting Rich”.

It’s not just about getting more money. There are other “things” this “secret” will get you. But, clearly, material wealth is part of what they are offering. It’s all over the place on this website from the two behind “the secret” (Bob Proctor and Jack Canfield). Here is one quote from Jack Canfield:

What we have to get straight in our heads is that owning the money doesn’t mean ANYTHING.

It’s the DOING with money that develops us – it’s not in the having. And when you have more, you’re enabled to DO more.

Or this one:

If you had a genie ready to grant your wishes, would you ask for something small? Say a new bicycle?

No. You’d be asking for bigger things. A business, a soul mate, glorious health, glorious wealth.

It is common for some, like me, to read a chapter from Proverbs every day, corresponding to the day of the month. So, yesterday being June 30, during my devotions just before bed, I read from Proverbs 30 (verses 7-8).

Two things I ask of you, O Lord; do not refuse me before I die: Keep falsehood and lies far from me; give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread.

God’s timing is wonderful. And His Word is no Secret.

Just One Word

The running shoes used by Britain’s Sir Roger Bannister when he ran the first sub-four-minute mile in 1954 lie on the grass at Pembroke College, Oxford, during celebrations for the 50th anniversary of the event on Thursday. Sir Roger was a 25-year-old Oxford University medical student when he recorded a time of 3:59:40 seconds for the mile on May 6, 1954.

I was asked to be the commencement speaker at two home-school high school programs today. Boy, was that stressful! This is the one I gave to the 15 graduates of Young Musicians of Virginia Class of 2007 [ link ].

By the way, several people came up to my family afterwards to find out who this opening cake story was about. I made up this story, just as I did with the opening story in my other commencement speech today, in order to try to illustrate my point.

===================

My message to you today consists of just one word. But first, I would like to begin with a story.

Once upon a time – about two years ago – a home-school student went to their mother wanting to make a cake to take to an enrichment class. Mom thought this was a great idea. But it would be much more than just a cake. This was a chance to learn!

They began by researching the history of cakes. Beginning with Neolithic cultures, they eventually moved onto the Greek and Roman era, ancient Europe and finally into the modern day. Mom was getting excited. The student was not. Two months had passed.

Next came the types of cakes. It turns out, there are five. Now five is such a simple number. But when you consider the various combinations of ingredients, you soon realize there are actually thousands of recipes.

Thousands is a large number.

Winter came. And passed.

At last, they settled on the cake they would make. Red velvet.

Red velvet. Such a deceptively simple sounding name, isn’t it? Until you come to that tricky first ingredient. Cocoa powder. Do you know just how much there is to learn about cocoa powder? Our home-school student does. Now.

Unfortunately, the second ingredient was just as bad. Red food coloring. This led to all sorts of studies, like the visible color spectrum, the Red Dye #3 scare of the early 1990s, and the attraction of hummingbirds to the color red.

There was a brief hope for cake success, except for two setbacks.

The first was when mom discovered that red beets were used as a color substitution during the early 1940s. This led to a slight detour in studies, better known to most as “World War II”.

The second setback came when the school year ended.

Having rested over the summer, new energy was poured into the cake project that September. Mom thought it would be best if they started light. So they began with the recipe’s urban legends, which took them from the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York, to Canada. All in all, not a bad start.

Even the student’s interest revived when they looked at . . . “Red Velvet Cake in Popular Culture”. Mom always did like that “Steel Magnolias” movie. And episode 21, in season 3 of “Grey’s Anatomy”, where the various choices for a wedding cake were explored – that was one of the student’s favorites.

Common ground had been found.

The subject of “salt” proved no match for this duo.

And “vanilla”? A breeze.

Now, truthfully, that one could have been tricky. But disaster was avoided when mom decided they could skip the history of Madagascar, where most vanilla comes from. She did, however, require a digression to cover geography and a study of the rain forest. After all, what’s another week?

Flour. Sugar. Shortening. Hope was in sight. There wasn’t even snow on the ground yet.

Then came the egg. Or, more importantly, that nagging philosophical question: “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

Together, they poured through books, online resources, DVDs. Providence even smiled on them with a guest lecture by a traveling philosopher. They did it all.

By the way, their efforts paid off. They did, once and for all, answer that question. But it’s not central to my story here, so I will leave that part out.

It looked like the cake was close to being made.

But two sinister forces conspired against them.

First, the home-school student was getting ready to graduate. This called for drastic action. It was decided that the cake project would become the cake served at graduation. Euphoria broke out.

Then, that other obstacle came. Baking soda. Do you realize how many kitchen experiments can be done with baking soda? Even if you cut that number in half, there just was not enough time left.

But mom was determined there would be a cake for her baby’s graduation day. Two days ago, she ordered one.

So, if you have store bought cake for graduation today, you will know who this story was about. My advice to you is, “Don’t say anything. Just enjoy it.”

All of this is a long way to come to the one word I want to speak to you about: “just”.

The student just wanted a cake.

Mom just wanted it to be a learning experience.

This word, “just”, is simple. But, at the same time, dangerous. To the one who uses it. And to the one whom it is used against.

You may have already been a victim of “just”.

“You’re just too young.”

“You’re just not experienced enough.”

“You’re just a home-schooler.”

“You’re just too small to ride this ride.”

Cherish that one, because one day you will hear, “You’re just too big to fit into those clothes any more.”

With just one utterance, the speaker limits the world.

For years, it was believed that a human being could not run a mile in less than 4 minutes. According to physiologists of the time, it was dangerous to the health of any athlete who attempted to reach it. “It just can’t be done.”

On May 6, 1954, a 25-year-old medical student at Oxford University, took the track before a small crowd. Nine years earlier, the world record of 4 minutes and 1.4 seconds had been set.

At the end of that race, when Roger Bannister finished with a time of 3 minutes, 59.4 seconds, a world record and a psychological barrier had fallen.

Over the next three years, 16 runners would beat Bannister’s record. Why? Because Roger Bannister was not willing to settle for “It just can’t be done.” And those after him did not settle for “It just can’t be bettered.”
The story is told of a well-established Canadian lumber camp that advertised for a good lumberjack.

A skinny little man showed up at the camp with his
axe and knocked on the camp foreman’s door. The foreman took one look at the little man and told him to leave.

“Just give me a chance to show you what I can do,” the skinny man pleaded.

“Okay,” the foreman said. “See that giant redwood over there? Take your axe and go cut it down.”

Five minutes later, the little man was back, knocking on the foreman’s door. “I cut the tree down,” said the man.

The foreman could not believe his eyes. “Where did you get the skill to chop down trees like that?” he asked.

“In the Sahara Forest,” replied the puny man.

“You mean the Sahara Desert,” the foreman corrected.

“Oh, sure,” the little man laughed, “that’s what they call it now!”

There is another danger in this word “just”. I want to warn you about it also. And that comes from the person who utters the word.

“My mom just doesn’t get it.”

“That’s just the way my dad is.”

“She’s just too old.”

“He’s just the son of a carpenter from Nazareth.”

You are at a point in your life where you are probably more apt to hear the word “just”, than to speak it. But there will come a time when those in your generation, like mine now, will shift and be speakers of this word, and not hearers only. Beware.

Today, I urge you to not be bound by this word.

Tomorrow, I urge you to be charitable in using it with others.

Do not be limited. Do not limit others. Few of us really see the greatness that is bound up in ourselves, or in others. Strive to be one of the few.

In Romans 15:7, the Apostle Paul expressed this hope: “Accept one another then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.”

“Failure is an Option”

I was asked to be the commencement speaker at two home-school high school programs today. Boy, was that stressful! This is the one I gave to the 53 graduates of T.E.A.C.H. Class of 2007 [ link ].

============

I would like to begin with a story.

There once was a mother, let’s call her Beth, who was concerned for the future and well-being of her children.

Entering the family room, there was clutter and chaos, that anyone could see. Anyone, that is, except for her children, who watched television and did not see, or care, about the disorder around them.

In the morning, she would call her children for school. And call them. And call them. Glaciers moved faster.

Hoping to change their behavior, and improve their education, she decided to home-school them.

The first day of home-school, an amazing thing happened. She called her children to get up for school. And called them. And called them.

Weeks later, she observed that the family room was still filled with chaos and clutter, while her kids watched television.

Although their grasp of subjects seemed to have improved, her hope of entering them in a spelling bee was still but a dream.

One day, Beth met with her best friend, Peggy, who was also a home-schooling parent. Over lunch, Beth poured out her frustrations. She shared how nothing had changed. Beth was discouraged, and blamed herself. She even confided that her kids seemed to be the least educated students in their co-op.

Peggy listened patiently. At last, she spoke. She reminded her friend that she had done a terrific thing in putting her children first in her life.

“Some things take a while,” Peggy reminded her. “Home-schooling is not pixie dust that we sprinkle over our children.

“As for their education,” she continued, “do you know what they call the person who graduates last in medical school?”

Peggy had leaned in. Her voice had dropped to a near whisper as she asked this question. Beth leaned in close too.

“No,” Beth replied.

“Doctor,” Peggy said.

It took a second or two for this “secret” to sink in. Then Beth laughed. And felt better.

By the end of the school year, things had improved, including Beth’s perspective.

Most of the time, the family room was clean. But, when it wasn’t clean, and her kids were just watching television, Beth realized she was just observing Newton’s Second Law of Motion: “Objects at rest, tend to stay at rest.”

And, in the mornings, when it took several times of calling, each time getting louder, the kids were learning Newton’s Third Law of Motion: “To every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

Although her children never entered any spelling bees, when they graduated and went on to further their studies, she was proud of their accomplishments.

And the day her son was accepted to medical school, she had a good laugh. Because she knew one day, no matter what, he would be a doctor.

Now, your family and friends are here today to wish you great success in your future. I hope you will have failures. Let me explain.

I think that for many of us are success is seen as God’s blessing, and failure as His curse. Yet, the Bible records stories of struggles, setbacks and defeats.

Consider, for a moment David, as he faced Goliath the giant. You know the story. Goliath had been harassing and intimidating the army of Israel. David, the young shepherd boy, tells King Saul that, “The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion, and the paw of the bear, will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.”

The Bible goes on to say that David “chose five smooth stones from the stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd’s bag and, with his sling in his hand, approached the Philistine.”

You know what happened next. David grabs a stone and knocks Goliath down, then slays him with his own sword.

My question is this: “Why did David choose five stones?”

He knew what God was capable of. He testified to God’s deliverance of him in the past. And he boldly foretold what God was about to do to Goliath through him. And David was right.

So, why five stones?

I think the answer is simple. David knew, from experience, that sometimes the first one misses. Sometimes, you have to try a second time. Or a third. Or even a fifth. Faith required one stone, but experience gathered five.

I am reminded of the salesman who was visiting a farmer. The salesman noticed dozens and dozens of arrows, sticking in the side of the barn, each one smack in the middle of a bullseye target. He complemented the farmer on his great marksmanship.
“It’s nothing,” the farmer replied modestly. “I learned a long time ago it’s easier to shoot the arrow, then draw the bullseye around where the arrow goes.”

Today, I fear we are too much like the farmer, and not enough like David. In wanting only success, we miss out on what can be learned from failure.

During the space race of the 1960s, between the Soviet Union and the United States, the world watched America’s successes, and failures, live on television. But the Soviets taped everything. The successes were broadcast. The failures were never seen.

In the 1990s, after the fall of the Soviet Union, some visiting Russian scientists told their American counterparts that America’s willingness to broadcast live always impressed them. Privately, these scientists yearned to live in a country that was not afraid to show its failures.

When Albert Einstein left Germany and came to America, establishing himself at Princeton University, he was asked what he needed for his work. “A desk, a chair, some paper and pencils,” he replied.

And then he added, “Oh, I will also need a big waste basket, for my mistakes.”

After Thomas Edison’s seven-hundredth unsuccessful attempt to invent the electric light, he was asked by a New York Times reporter, “How does it feel to have failed seven hundred times?”

Edison replied, “I have not failed seven hundred times. I have not failed once. I have succeeded in proving that those seven hundred ways will not work. When I have eliminated the ways that will not work, I will find the way that will work.”

More than 2,300 additional “successes” were to follow, until Edison finally found the one that worked.

Charles Dickens wrote, “Every failure teaches a man something, if he will learn.”

The sad irony is that the home-school could be the perfect place for learning from failure. In a loving, nurturing environment, beyond the sounds of peer ridicule found elsewhere, we can create a world where our students – our children – are encouraged to try, without ridicule for failure.

Like a giant safety net, far beneath the high wire, we can urge our children to the top, and across.

Do not be intimidated by the prospect of failure. There is so much to learn there.

When you approach the end of your days, do you want memories? Or dreams?

In the epilogue to “The Brothers Karamazov”, Feodor Dostoyevsky wrote this:

“You are told a lot about your education – but some beautiful, sacred memory, preserved since childhood, is perhaps the best education of all. If a man carries many such memories into life with him, he is saved for the rest of his days. And even if only one good memory is left in our hearts, it may also be the instrument of our salvation one day.”

The only way I know to have more memories than dreams, is to have had failures. Because failure, by its very nature, implies attempt.

The Bible says this, in Proverbs 24:16: “… a righteous man falls seven times.” Consider that. A righteous man. One with God’s favor. Falls seven times. But then it adds this, “and gets back up again.”

In the future, get back up again. But be willing to fall – even seven times.

May the Lord bless you in your falling down, and your getting up.