Moving The Mouse...Part One

I am a big fan of the cartoon strip, Dilbert. One of my favorite characters is Wally, the guy who is always trying to get out of doing any real work and has perfected the art of looking busy. One of the methods he employs for looking busy is keeping his hand on the mouse while he snoozes away at his desk. When he hears his pointy-haired boss approaching, he deftly moves the mouse. The computer has perfected the craft of looking busy while really accomplishing very little. Welcome to a great metaphor for ministry – moving the mouse.

I have served in ministry for around 25 years – most of that time being in the role of Lead Pastor of growing congregations. One of the reasons I chose to leave the institutional church ministry setting was because of a growing disconnect that I felt with the moving the mouse activity that defines much of present day ministry. Let me explain.

In the United States we pour a vast amount of resources into putting on what amounts to a production Sunday after Sunday. My former life was given to - week after week, month after month, and year after year - crafting an attractive, entertaining, captivating, “concerned”, and polished mini-event that took place once a week: something we called the Sunday morning worship service. This one event involved: study time; manuscripting a relevant message; handing the notes off to a tech team for production prep.; reviewing and approving the backgrounds for the power point presentation; rehearsing a worship band of anywhere from 8-10 members; doing a final revision of the notes and tech presentation late Saturday night, and then heading off for the big Sunday morning event where the service was conducted two times. Just that accounted for about 40 hours per week. In addition to those preparations were the: countless meetings with staff; elders; leadership; counseling appointments; facility meetings; dealing with budgets; dealing with fuss-budgets; funerals; weddings; community meetings; mission committee meetings; socializing with congregants, etc. None of this was necessarily bad mind you. And, a lot of churches and a lot of Pastors pull this off week after week with aplomb. But, by Sunday afternoon, I was exhausted and there was this gnawing realization in my gut that when I awoke the next morning, I would have to start pushing the rock up the mountain again. When I would occasionally ask a person - even my staff – what they had gotten out of the service two weeks prior, I was met with a deathly silence and a blank stare. Few could remember what I had preached on two weeks ago. I knew I was in trouble when I too couldn’t recall the messages I myself had prepared and preached. The services, the meetings, the busyness all became a blur – a blur of activity. I had become a professional mouse-mover.

Many ministers and many ministries become addicted to activity. Ministry is never lacking in opportunities for busy-work – never. Ministers can fuss with mountains and molehills of “stuff” that has to be done. And, at the end of the day, we can walk away and feel very tired because we have been so busy. But, if we ever stop to examine our activities and relate them to the great and high call that Jesus has on our lives to be his ambassadors to the world – then we are cooked. He has called us to be a harvester of souls, to be a threatening presence and a strike force that storms the gates of hell. But, what we often become are people who have: mastered this year’s church budget, created well-oiled policy manuals, recruited great nursery workers; and updated the carpet. If for a moment we can step out of the busyness and ask ourselves: “What the heck am I doing with my life?” then, the banality of it all will appall and horrify us. Were we called to such marginalized and mundane pursuits?

So…something happened to me about three years ago that rocked my world. A friend of mine opened up a coffee shop (Durango Joe’s – best coffee anywhere) and I, being a good friend, began to guzzle vast amounts of Americanos; and, I began to watch and observe the customers. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what was drawing me back again and again to the coffee shop was not only good coffee, but it was the sound of the harvest. The harvest – the precious people for whom Christ died. Wasn’t the harvest of souls the whole purpose of the church? Wasn’t it my original calling from God to be about the work of the Master and to be proclaiming the kingdom of God, the message of hope, the good news, to people who were lost and without hope and facing an eternity apart from God? Wasn’t this the main thing? Could I stay behind the walls of a church façade – safe and secure in my Christian ghetto – while people were marching inexorably day by day into hell?

These thoughts appalled me. I appalled me. I had been mesmerized for so many years with “churchy” activities, with Christian conferences, Christian concerts, and Christian events, which were all geared toward - Christians. But where were the harvesters? And, more pointedly, where was I in the harvest? I was outside of the harvest. I had to confess, I had become a professional Christian playing to the already convinced…

A Letter To A Victim of Suicide...

[Note: I received news today regarding a dear friend who lost her younger brother to suicide last night. My family and I navigated our way through this hell a few years ago. I have never really put a pen to the things I learned - or am still learning - from that defining event. The following letter, with some privacy editing, is shared as both a cathartic process for myself and as one small contribution for those of you who have experienced such loss or have found yourself in the position of trying to bring comfort to the unwitting victims of suicide.]

April 16, 2007

Dear_________

First of all, let me express to you my deep sadness and condolence for the loss of _____ last night. I have been on my knees this morning praying for the cloud of God’s presence to surround you. And tonight, when I am able to share with Jan what has happened, we will enter together that place of prayer on your behalf. What I have to share in this short note may or may not be helpful this very moment, but I think it might be so in the days ahead. Please know that I am available anytime to listen, to pray and to share.

_____, as you know, I lost my precious brother, Chris, seven years ago to this same, inexplicable choice. Oftentimes, when someone chooses to end their life, I am called in to give insight or to bring comfort. I think people assume that because I have been through this, that I am some kind of expert on suicide and have some magic words to say that will lift the fog and fast forward the healing. The truth of the matter is that I am, like you will surely be, a mere survivor. A survivor is not a person who has given much if any forethought to experiencing a crisis or a tragedy. A survivor - in the truest sense of the word - is a victim of a catastrophic event which was unforeseen, unplanned and uninvited. _____, to that end, you need to know that you could no more have prevented this event than you could have prevented a hurricane. This was a random event that crashed into your family’s well-ordered and joyful life like a comet.

That was one of the more difficult things for me to grasp at the beginning. As I wept and wept – well past my body’s ability to even supply tears – I was haunted by the persistent thought of: “What did I miss? What could I have done to prevent this?” Now, I cannot keep you, or anyone else in your family, from asking those types of questions. They are as understandable as they are predictable. And, to be honest, I still have those questions flare up in my head these many years after my brother’s death. What I can tell you is that you will never arrive at any type of answer that will ever really satisfy.

But, just for the sake of argument, let’s suppose that you did arrive at an answer. What if you were to say: “If I would have done this one thing – then my brother would still be alive?” Well, that is a zero sum conclusion that simply invites some other grim reapers to the present party of despair; i.e., guilt, regret and accusation. To arrive at an “answer” is to simply make provision for the obvious and tormenting question: “Then, why didn’t I do it?” And, because you cannot answer that – all you are left with is self-recrimination.

So you see - it is all circular. We cannot make any sense of suicide. We will always be left with the question of “Why?” and the person who might shed some light on the answer is now gone. And you know what? Were it possible to somehow communicate with our loved one who committed the desperate act – I am not certain if even they could come up with a satisfactory reason. I think the question of “why” echoes on both sides of eternity.

I was blessed with a phone call from a wonderful old Christian statesman a few weeks after my brother’s death. Dr. Vernon Grounds, now in his nineties, is widely acclaimed as one of the founders of Christian counseling and therapy. His name graces one of the beautiful new buildings of Denver Seminary’s new campus, the: Vernon C. Grounds Counseling Center. This great man of God told me, very gently and lovingly - but also with a certain amount of firmness – that when it came to suicide, he had very few answers. His best efforts with suicidal people quite often ended in tragedy. He felt that once a person began to have and nurture those thoughts that they had somehow crossed over a line beyond anyone’s ability - save God’s - to stay the hand of self-destruction. A man who had helped thousands felt weak against the formidable and dark logic of suicide.

His point to me, and my point to you, is this: a victim of a tragic event is not the cause of the tragic event. Say that over and over to yourself. You must get busy with true grieving. That is the work before you for the next few days, weeks, and months. I refer to it as work – because it is. Those who counsel the bereaved – and I have done my share of it - have observed the following stages: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. I have not found the order to be always that sequential. Oftentimes we will have to revisit portions that we think we have passed through. But _____, this is the near road ahead. A suicide – because of the things I have already mentioned – often hinders us from beginning the journey through grief. We wait around at a sort of weigh station asking questions that cannot be answered. Eventually though, the journey must and will begin.

When I recall the early days of my loss, I can tell you that the body of Christ (i.e. the church) carried me when I had no strength. My wife and children and my parents were the most amazing. They held me and quietly stood by while I passed through each of the difficult transitions. They did this without judgment and without ever once calling attention to their own grief – which was substantial.

If there was ever a time to learn the important lesson of receiving comfort, it is now. Your husband is a good, wonderful and strong man. Melt into him. There will be others who show up merely to be seen like the professional wailers of Jesus day - the purveyors of platitudes – people who take your pain and somehow make it about themselves. I experienced some of that. You have permission to ignore them.

But mostly this: cry out to God the Father from the depths of your brokenness. And, I mean – cry out. Find a place where you can scream and cry and question and demand. The Father responds well to such honesty. I doubt that He replies to anything less. Has He not promised comfort to those who mourn? He has indeed. And He is always faithful to His promises. Seek Him and you will find all of the resources of Deity available to your wounded heart.

With Love & Prayers,
C. J. Alderton, Pastor
Patrick Crossing

One Suggestion About Where To Begin A Faith Journey…

Have you ever had a sudden change of mind about something? It is not really a common occurrence, and usually we find, upon reflection, that there was really nothing “sudden” about our sudden change of mind. A host of seedling thoughts placed over time within our hearts and minds react with a particular set of circumstances in our lives that bring about this new way of thinking.

The Scriptures refer to this phenomenon as “repentance.” The word repentance, in the original language of the Scriptures literally means: “to change one’s mind.” The Scriptures tell us that it is impossible to begin a faith journey without learning to think differently. So, the question becomes: “Think differently about what?” Great question.

The central figure of the Christian faith is the person who referred to himself as both the Son of God and the Son of Man. In the English language, we call this person Jesus, a knock-off of the Greek translation of the Hebrew name Yeshua. Yeshua was a very common name among the Hebrew people, sort of like our Joe, or Bob. A more familiar translation of the name Jesus, or Yeshua, in our English language would be Joshua, or Josh for short. Part of this great journey of faith is to learn how the Creator of the whole universe humbled himself and became one of us and assumed a common, non-descript name like Joshua.

So, what do you think about “Josh?” It is an important question. A lot of people have tried to admire Josh from a distance and they have had some pretty nice things to say about him. They have said things like: “Josh was a great moral teacher.” Or, “Josh was a great example.” Or, “Josh is right up there with Buddha and Mohammed and Gandhi.” Or, “I really like Josh but I can’t stand his followers – the Joshuites!”

But Josh had something much different to say about himself. Josh not only referred to himself as the Son of God and the Son of Man, but also as the “road.” He said these very words: “I am the Road, also the Truth, also the Life. No one gets to the Father apart from me.” These are pretty extravagant claims that Josh made. Josh proclaimed, without any hesitation or apology, that he himself, not just his teaching, was exclusive and unique. Other great teachers and sages might vaguely point in the general direction – sort of like a compass – but he claimed to be the very road that one needs to take to make all things turn out well in the end. He didn’t say that there were a lot of roads; he said that there was one road and that he was it. He didn’t say that there were a lot of truths, but that he was THE truth. He didn’t say that there were a lot of ways to experience life, but that he was and is the life. That’s what Josh said.

To some that sounds like the height of arrogance or delusion. If that is your opinion, then according to Josh, you are on the wrong road, believing the wrong truth and living the wrong life. That’s his view of things. If that is how you feel, then I invite you to pray a prayer – a bold prayer – to Josh, just to see if he is listening. Trust me; he can handle all sorts of prayers, even one that says something like this: “Prove yourself to me.” Now, you need to help a little here and be part of the answer to your own prayer. Find a Bible. You can borrow one at the local library or buy one at Wal-Mart or online, and look up one of the little books contained within the big book called, “The Gospel According to Saint John”, or something along those lines. It will be broken into chapters and verses. Don’t let that slow you down, just do this: Every time you come to a new chapter, say out loud, “Josh, prove yourself to me.” I know it doesn’t sound like much of a prayer, but it will do. If you are so inclined, keep some paper handy and jot down your thoughts about Josh as you read. See what happens. You might find as many have that your prayers begin to change as you read along. Your thoughts about him being a great moral teacher will certainly be reinforced. Your thoughts about him being a great example will not suffer either. But, you will also most likely find yourself attracted to him. If you find that happening then you can trust that you are being loved and drawn into a friendship with this remarkable person. You will find your mind being changed. But even then, something deeper, something more profound might begin to happen – you will find your heart – your inner world, your gut, responding to him. Here is the place where the faith journey really begins in earnest – when our hearts and minds meet. You might find that your heart – which has been so beat up by this sad world in which we live, by mistakes made, by failures, addictions and disappointments – is running ahead of your mind. That often happens. Oftentimes the heart has a logic all its own. While our mind protests and negotiates some middle ground, some reasonable compromise – our hearts cry out for a friendship that is offered freely to us. When and if that happens, just keep talking to Josh - a.k.a. Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Son of God and the Son of Man. He is listening. But, he is also talking. He knows the language of our hearts.

If you happen to reach this point and need someone to talk to, please feel free to e-mail us at: patrickcrossing@gmail.com.

A small grace at the soup kitchen...

This past Sunday I spent a good part of the morning at the Manna Soup Kitchen in Durango. I had been invited there by a couple I had not previously met, by the name of Jim & Nancy Sanderson. Jim and Nancy have worked for many years with the poor and dispossessed. They have even been known to grab their sleeping bags and some food and camp out with folks who have found themselves without a home. Someone gave them my name because that person thought my vision of the church and that of the Sanderson’s were very similar. Upon hearing of their journey, I felt horribly inadequate in regard to the comparison.

I arrived at the Soup Kitchen to help cook breakfast. I was greeted at the door by a young teenage girl. She told me I needed to put on an apron and to go and wash my hands. Later I heard her remark that gum chewing wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. I later found out that this young lady was one of Jim and Nancy’s granddaughters who helps each week with cooking and serving food. She then instructed me to open cans of chunky fruit and pour them into a large silver bowl. After mastering the commercial can opener – which I did in less than two minutes – I then completed the assigned task in about a minute. Three minutes total. Now what? The young lady was a buzz of activity as she put the final touches on the breakfast burritos and she didn’t appear to need my help. So, I went scrounging for some coffee.

Somewhere into my first sip, granddaughter number two appeared – a bespectacled eight year old. She said that I could come and help her wash the “cooking” dishes. When we got to the sinks, she was very distressed to find that her wooden step stool had gone missing. After a brief search of the premises, I found it in the storage room. My new supervisor then began to instruct me on how to wash dishes. I found out the following: it takes at least a half bottle of Dawn for one skillet, that drying is optional, and that it is fun to operate the powerful automatic dishwasher. She showed me how to place a tray into the dishwasher and then pull the large lever down. In thirty seconds or so, the dishes came out clean. On one load, she even let me pull the lever. She was right, it was fun.

After that, she announced that we could go join the customers for breakfast. By this time a pretty good crowd of folks were shuffling through the line and taking their seats in the dining room. For some reason, I was a little self-conscious. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to talk to people or leave them alone. So, I found a lonely spot at the end of a long table and chose to eat in silence. At the far end of my table sat a very skinny man – perhaps around forty years – with sunken cheeks and slicked back hair. Across the table from him was a rather pretty young lady, maybe in her thirties. They both looked very tired and sad.

My monastic moment was interrupted when a rough looking man plopped his plated burrito down in front of me. He had tattoos across his knuckles. He stared at me. I stared back and gave a little half smile. Before I could say something stupid like: “So, where do you live? Where do you work? Where did you go to college?” I felt a whir of activity to my immediate right. My eight year old supervisor had taken the place next to me and was handing out sticky notes and colored pencils to rough man and me. She asked us to draw her some pictures. Seizing the moment, I proceeded to draw her a picture of a…….rough man! She squealed with delight and held the picture up for my neighbor to see. “Egads – What was I thinking?” I decided on the spot to change to the animal kingdom and drew a quick sketch of a dog. She was equally excited with this effort and began to urge the rough man to draw a picture. Finally, he picked up a pencil, and on the little sticky note he began to slash away. In a few seconds he presented to our side of the table a picture of a very passable elephant. Then he spoke. I fully expected to hear deep gravel - a Slingblade type of voice. Instead, a very kind and gentle voice said, “Elephants are my daughter’s favorite.” With those few words I heard pain, love, longing, and regret.

The enthusiasm that was fidgeting at my right somehow helped me to keep my peace. Normally, I would have asked this man about his daughter which, more than likely, would have unleashed a fury of a sad tale. But no, not on this day. To countenance and rehearse pain in the midst of the incredible wonder and joy to my immediate right seemed somehow out of place –perhaps even unholy. On this day I would sit and marvel at the Holy Spirit’s condescending ability to work through every molecule of an available eight year old. The moment of pain passed and the rough man and I smiled and shared together this moment of grace.

(PS Any PC folks who wish to help in the soup kitchen, please give me a call. I will be cooking there every other Sunday).

Meditation while resting on a dead tree...

Following Tom was a chore. With his long legs, he has been traversing the high mountain meadows of Southwest Colorado for many years trying to lead people to fulfill a primal urge to get closer to nature and to God, and if successful with the former, to eat a bit of nature. You see, Tom is an outfitter by trade. I have never really looked up the etymology of the word "outfitter", but my best guess is that it means something like: "Outfitter; noun, a person who assists chubby guys from the flatlands - decked out in the latest Cabella fashions -to ride a horse, not shoot themselves, not shoot each other, not shoot the horse or the outfitter, and not have to worry about cooking, doing dishes, or digging their own hole in which to go poo!" During the years that my friend - Tom the outfitter - has been running around the mountains, I, on the other hand, have faithfully sat like a statue behind my desk trying to get closer to God. I live in the world of sermons and books printed on felled trees. Tom lives in the world of trees still standing. On this day I began to think that Tom's way of getting closer to God might have its advantages.

During our hike through a downpour of rain, sleet, and then snow, I finally asked Tom if we could stop and rest for a moment. For some reason, I was under the impression that we would be riding horses most of the time, but that turned out not to be the case. Tom seemed to think that the elk that we were pursuing would be just over the next mountain. He had this same thought many times as we scaled what I was sure was the last of the last of the Rockies, only to discover another bigger and ascending and more scrub-oak infested path before us. On we would go, up and up, mountain after mountain. Having seen so many elk in the lowlands around my house, I was wondering if this was Tom's idea of a hazing. I could imagine him thinking to himself, "Okay, you stubby legged little preacher - this is payback for all of those sermons where you made me feel guilty or inadequate!" Such thoughts travel remarkably easy through an oxygen starved brain.

I finally came to rest on a massive tree that had fallen many years ago and was well into its quiet and determined return to dust. As I sat there pondering the enormous tree, I began to wonder just how long it had been since the day when it fell in the forest and no one heard it - a philosophical question. And, I began to wonder how many years it had lived before it died. And, just how far back did this tree go? When did the seed mysteriously fall to the ground, and against great odds, take root and begin to grow? Because of the remoteness of the area, I wondered if I were the only person in history to ever stop and take a breather on this old decaying tree. How many birds had nested here? How many squirrels had scampered up and down its trunk? All of these thoughts passed through my mind in an instant. It was a holy sort of moment. This one dead tree, with a history known only to God and some small woodland creatures, made me feel rather small - but in a good way. This tree had stood by while the world tried to burn itself down in W.W.I & W.W. II. This tree had predated computers, cell phones, supersonic flight, the Beatles, Big Macs, 911, and Britney Spears. I felt small because the age of this enormous dead tree lying there was a silent reminder of how brief and scattered my life on this earth had been - and will be.

Long after the Lord has called me home, this tree will still be slowly decaying and in doing so, give a chance for survival for another small seed that will randomly tumble into the shelter of its life-giving compost. Somehow, this brief little sermon preached to me from creation made me want to live - and die - in a good way. It reminded me of words once spoken by the great Apostle, "If we live, it is to honor the Lord. And, if we die, it is to honor the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord. Christ died and rose again for this very purpose- to be both Lord of the living and the dead." All this while sitting on a dead tree high in the Rocky Mountians.

An E-mail Chat...

(Hey - The following is an e-mail chat that took place today between Dr. Rich Frazer, President of Spiritual Overseers and a board member of Patrick Crossing. I took the liberty to clean up the misspelled & omitted words; otherwise, this is the real deal. It reflects both a great spiritual friendship and some current thinking in regard to simple church. Enjoy). - CJ

Date: Feb 27, 2007 1:37 PM
Subject: Chat with Rich Frazer

1:37 PM Rich: How you feeling about everything?

1:39 PM me: Okay - just getting a number from a college student - hang on. Had 5 great contacts today. already getting appointments set up for the new office.

1:40 PM Rich: Great! Are you still feeling the sense of freedom - like you were made to do ministry this way vs. institutional, keeping the machine going kind of thing?

1:42 PM me: Yes. but, there is the lure of the default - the default being - "Geeze, how are we going to accommodate all the people that we're meeting and beginning to see some fruit in? Let's think it through. Let's stress. Let's get busy." I am intentionally trying to NOT think about the future but to keep focused on the moment. It is a hard discipline and one the Lord seems to be insistent that I learn - at least for now.

1:47 PM Rich: The paradigm you're working toward (DANG - there is that preposition at the end of a phrase again) gives you freedom - and maybe the opportunity to redefine or recast, or rediscover (that's the word) what "ministry" objectives are - ie, NOT simply getting them to show up, lift up, and shovel out. What do you want these people to become?

1:56 PM me: That is becoming really easy to define. I have spent my ministry life loading people up with great concepts, great facts, 7 steps to this - 10 steps to that. I think, for the most part, I have succeeded in making people more religious - in the bad sense of that word. I know a lot of "factual" believers that are not terribly pleasant to be around, nor are they effective change agents for the kingdom. My goal is more Hebraic. I want to help people experience the nexus of God actively involved in their everyday affairs - to experience the supernatural presence of God at work in them and through them. If a person experiences God using them in some way, or providing miraculously for them - it is worth a thousand sermons. I find that the kind of challenge that gets people to that place is most effectively accomplished when I can see them face to face - where we can linger, where questions can be asked. Which would I rather have - a hundred people really experiencing God in the daily - or a thousand people showing up each week and learning a few religious facts? Application is more than just being inspired to go and do something. Application is revelatory. Paul prayed for the Ephesians to have a spirit of wisdom and revelation. The reality of the near presence of the Lord so blew away the writer of Hebrews and Paul that they would talk about the boldness of entering his throne room and really expecting Divine intervention - at any time. The word for "understanding" in the Greek is way more encompassing than just getting a fact in our head. One word study I did showed that it involved the totality of our entire humanity - all five senses - and more.

1:58 PM Rich: I would love for you to be my pastor. I'll wait till you're done to write more...


2:01 PM me: Hey, membership is open! Also, as far as "thinking" goes - Jesus talks about the leaven of the Pharisees, the leaven of Herod, and the leaven of the kingdom of this world. When you think about it - each represents some way of thinking that robs our faith. Our mind is a sort of gatekeeper for our faith. If our mind is leavened by any or all of these power bases, faith cannot be released and we cannot experience God. It is that simple. Our mind can be so corroded by religious thinking, by political thinking or by worldly thinking - that faith is never given an open gate from our mind to be released. Setting the captives free seems to be part of the job description.

2:04 PM Rich: And you are a great visual aid for the concept. What a great way to say it - faith needs to be released. Without it we cannot please God. I guess He is "unpleased" much - if not most - of the time. Personal testimony. Defining faith, though is precarious. I've heard that faith is a positive response to God's initiative. Saying "yes" to the opportunities He has already laid out for us (Eph 2:10). I know the definition in Hebrews - looking for what we can't see and waiting for what is coming. I like that, too. So - what thoughts can we implant into people's minds so they are THINKING Faith (good title for a sermon) 24/7, and responding with Christian Character and buying up - redeeming - the opportunities before them in these evil days? What say ye, Pastor Curt?

2:13 PM me: Well, how about this? Let's allow some mystery to re-enter the faith walk. To tidy up our theology to the point where there is no mystery - by definition - requires no faith. In other words, if my theology and methodology is so secured that I don't need to even think or process - I already have an answer or a methodology sequestered away - then why is faith even necessary? I simply believe in my beliefs which can pretty much run on automatic. That is not faith. I am blown away by how many times Paul uses the word mystery in his writings - it is a great "word bunny trail" to pursue. Great is the mystery of godliness. Mystery means that options are still on the table - the future is malleable. God can do anything because He is God. He can intervene at any moment for the most pedestrian of concerns - He can use me anytime, anywhere, to be his agent of change. That immediacy of His creative presence seems to be what the book of Acts is all about.

2:15 PM Rich: Amen. And what if IT really IS done according to our faith? I guess it really is. It is.

2:17 PM me: Yes, that is the point. Faith is exposing ourselves to the immediate presence of God's creative availability to release His wisdom and power into a situation. Wasn't it called the book of "Acts."

2:19 PM Rich: Yes, Acts. Or Doings.

2:19 PM me: It wasn't called the book of Doctrine. My job description boils down to: I get up in the morning and God does stuff.

2:21 PM Rich: Doings wrought by God through faith in the power of the Holy Spirit. Faith (animated) and THE Faith (doctrine). THE Faith leads to faith. "Our Father" leads to "Your Kingdom come," give us this day, etc. yada yada yada. So - what do you need to do to catch yourself responding with confidence to God-ordained opportunities on a consistent basis?

2:27 PM me: To come full circle - we need to live in the moment - that is where God operates. He forgives our past, He secures our future, but He works with us in the present. Thus, I must keep my guard up against trying to ferret out the machinery of the future - what I was trained to do in seminary and beyond. Everyone wants to know the vision. What is the good future ahead? A better question would be: "What is the present opportunity?" God is already in the future figuring things out and arranging things. I don't want to crash that party anymore. It seems at the very least like bad manners - like talking to someone but always glancing over their shoulder. Intimacy happens in the moment. The Lord is here - right now - what more do I need or need to know than that? The Psalmist said, "The nearness of my God is my good."

2:33 PM Rich: Vision gives me intentionality, incentive, and a greater perception of what our Lord is doing now in light of what I hope and think He will ultimately accomplish then. For me - it's then that helps me see Him at work and close now.


2:36 PM me: Yes, we run amuck w/o vision. But, vision has been horribly co-opted by our penchant for "long-range planning". Vision, to me, is spelled out in the great commission, "Go into the future and make disciples. Teach them all this stuff that I taught you - teach them how to do it."

2:42 PM Rich: Excellent point. Vision precedes long-range planning. Vision is not the culprit - it is our hope!. Though we can plan the HS out of it all and build it all on a business model - sans faith. That always bugged me.

2:43 PM me: Yep. So full circle - life is good, carrying a light yoke, keeping it real in the moment - (no committee meetings ahead!) - Gotta run .

God in a neon sign...(Not deep. Not deep at all).

So, I was driving home this evening after meeting with a guy who I am helping grow in the faith. As I passed one of the new strip malls that houses an oil change business and a tire shop, I noticed that the second letter on the neon sign of the tire shop was burned out. It read: G_OD YEAR. "Cool," I thought.

Was it a sign from God? Would God burn out a letter on a new neon sign just to give me a sign? Sounds good. I'll take it... Except that stuff that Jesus said about a wicked and perverse generation needing a sign. Well, I didn't really need a sign - or ask for one - so maybe this was okay. But then, I kinda felt bad for the owner of the new biz. having problems with his new sign and all.

I have bumped into a few folks who would have fallen down and worshipped on the spot, built a little shrine, opened a gift shop, or - sent out one of those e-mails with cheesy Casio generated music in the background, and fat little angels wisping about the page with words that tell you to send it to ten others and that, if you love Jesus, not to break the chain of the "sign" blessing. "It was a sign ON a sign. It HAD to be from God! God is going to bless me and you and all who read it THIS year. I declare and prophesy: IT IS A G_ODYEAR."

Goodyear, G_odyear - no big dif. to me. It is a distinction without a difference. A G_odyear is a Goodyear. And, a Goodyear is a Godyear. I would have even been blessed by a burned out "r". Goodyea_! Oh yeah! A burned out "d" would have alarmed & confused me: Goo_year. And, I have definitely had years that were missing both the "g" and the "o": _ _odyear. So....with all of that in mind - it must have been from God. Look for an e-mail soon. Don't break the chain! (Gotta borrow a Casio and get busy).

Rambling on...Did you hear the one about Paddy, an Irishman, who was late for a meeting and was having trouble finding a parking place? In desperation he cried out to God and said, "Dear God, if you'll please give me a parking place I promise to go to church every Sunday and give up me Guinness and Whiskey!" Miraculously, a parking spot appeared, at which Paddy said, "Never mind God, one just opened up!"

Blessings -

CJ