Louisiana Trip, Again

I just returned (12/20) from a quick trip to Louisiana. My dad was in the hospital when I arrived. He has a variety of health concerns. He was able to come home the day after I arrived. He was thrilled, but the health problems linger.

It was a rather melancholic trip. The picture above is of the pond behind my father's house. The tree lying in the water was blown over by a hurricane earlier this year. It represents a bit of what is happening with my dad. He has kept an immaculate "place". His joy has been mowing and sawing and raking and burning. But, he is not able to do those things now. I was able to do some. It is very enjoyable for me to run a chain saw - as long as I don't lose a limb. But, I am only there briefly. So, things like this tree in the pond go undone, at least for now. We shall see what the Lord has for the future.

It was good to see family. And, I did have some delicious food. Soon after arriving I had an oyster po-boy at Robbie G's - my favorite Louisiana restaurant. (See pictures below, jealous?) The place is not fancy, but that is not why you go there. The day we were there it was full of Louisiana State Police. The flight home was interesting. I was due to fly out on Friday but everything was canceled going into Bloomington. I did make it to Atlanta the next day but things were looking iffy about flying on home. I thought I had it made when I boarded the plane. However, the girl seated next to me said she was on the same flight the day before and had flown to within 20 minutes of Bloomington before the plane turned around and returned to Atlanta. PTL we made it home! It was wonderful to be greeted by my family and to have a celebration dinner together.

A Firehouse Visit

This past Thursday evening, December 11th, I concluded my Thursday evening class on "Spirituality". Before driving home from Champaign, I decided to take Bill B. up on his invitation to come by and visit him at work. Bill is a Champaign firefighter. It was exciting to go by the station and see his work environment. Station #3 has one engine, shown in the picture above. (The interior of the truck is in the picture below) Bill described the types of calls the firemen receive and how they go about responding to those calls. He also gave me a tour of the facility and explained to me a variety of the equipment he uses. It was all very fascinating and I really appreciated his taking the time to do so. The Lieutenant at Station #3, Jeff L, also spent time talking about what it means to be a fireman.

Walking into the station brought a flood of memories. My father was a fireman. Occasionally I would visit him at his fire station. Climbing in and on the trucks was always exciting. There was also an occasional event in which the families would be invited to a big show with the firemen. We would be standing in an open area and a large puddle of Av Gas would be lit. That, in and of itself, was pretty exciting! Then the fire trucks would come roaring up. It was like the cavalry charging over the hill in a western movie. The firemen would jump out and be dressed in silver suits with full helmets and tinted visors. They looked like astronauts. They would spray the fire down with foam. I always knew which one was my dad because he was so tall. Next, they would light the gas again and the truck would drive up to the fire and knock it down with a boom located on its front bumper. It was a great show - exciting for a boy to watch.

Being a fireman is a dangerous job. It can also be emotionally draining. Firemen sometimes are able to do what they really want to do: help people in some of the most difficult experiences of their lives. Sometimes, however, they are unable to spare people from the tragedy that threatens to envelop them. Serving people is at the heart of what they do. Just like Jesus. He came at Christmas not to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.

Numbers - What do they mean???

Some folks love numbers. They like fiddling with them. My wife is always writing numbers on scraps of paper she finds around the house. I don't know what some of them are. When the children were small I told them to not stand still for very long because their Mom would probably write a grocery list on their foreheads or scribble some numbers on them. She is a lover of numbers. Maybe it is not the numbers themselves, but what they represent. There are those who love to dink with numbers because those numbers represent money. Still others are always writing down numbers that represent dates. Numbers tend to be inflexible. That can be a little irritating at times. If only I could move the decimal on my bank account numbers or if, for just a little while, I could suspend the rigidity of numbers and make 10 times 100 equal 1 million. That would be nice.

I think about numbers. In fact, I was pondering numbers at 3:00 this morning. The numbers that I think about are church numbers. But it is not what you may think. I don't worry too much about the money. We have good and godly people in our church that do that so I don't figure I have to do that so much. But, I do have some prayerful concern (I would never admit to worry!) over the numbers representing our attendance. They are not growing, they are shrinking. Why? The attendance numbers are not the ultimate measure of God's blessing. But, neither should they be ignored. So, whether I like numbers or not, I am thinking about them these days. And, I am also thinking about other numbers - like Christmas Gift Numbers and the days I have left to buy Christmas Gift Numbers and the amount of money I have to spend on Christmas Gift Numbers and how much should I spend on Christmas Gift Numbers in light of the advancement of the gospel in the world. Oh my, numbers can really be upsetting at times.

Building Usage

This month (December 08) the Chamber of Commerce used our building for their monthly meeting. It is the coolest Chamber meeting because the Gibson City High School Jazz Band led by Frank Titus comes and plays Christmas music for the program.

I am very grateful for the building and thankful that we are able to use it for such events. It is an extension of common grace into the community. This past Sunday, for example, the community presentation of the "Messiah" was here in the afternoon. The building is a gift that we steward to the best of our ability to the good of people and the glory of God.

The final picture is a special blessing the staff received when we were visited by carolers from GCMS High School. They were under the direction of Benjamin Kelly

Let It Snow, Let It Snow!

Our first snow - this is Sunday morning, November 30th, 2008. I must say, snow still fascinates me. It did snow where I grew up in Louisiana, but it very rare and never did last long. Snow changes the appearance of everything. At night everything seems brighter and during the day everything looks cleaner - at least for a while. There is something "romantic" about snow - it makes me feel the way the movie "White Christmas" does. And, Hoss loves it. If you listen carefully you can hear him during the above video. He is flapping his ears. Snow energizes him. He runs and jumps and eats it. And then he tracks it in the house.

There is the down side. Driving in it can be dangerous. When it starts to melt it makes a mess and it requires the extra time to dress for it. Shoveling it can be a literal pain in the back.

But, I will take the down side of snow. For me, the positives far out weigh them. And, snow always reminds me of the Scripture that speaks of the Lord making us "white as snow, though our sins be as scarlet". Snow is a promise picture.

Swwwooooosssshhhh

My youngest son, Aaron, has begun his basketball career. The way my retirement is currently going, it is imperative for him to become a professional. But, he has gotten off to a rather inauspicious start.

Last evening I was on my way home from teaching a seminary class in Champaign. I called home to see how someone from the church was doing (when I left Gibson they were in the emergency room) and to see how his game had gone. Aaron's team had won their first three games. He was getting playing time and was doing pretty well, especially rebounding. His mother put him on the phone and he said to me: "I made a basket"! I was a proud poppa. That's My Boy! My son was an awesome player. He was destined for greatness on the court, his name would be in the papers, and I could retire one day! Then he said, "A kid from the other team missed a shot and I grabbed the rebound. I was fighting for the boards. When I came down with it - no one was guarding me! So, I made a beautiful lay-up and promptly scored 2 points - for the other team! That is right, Dad, I forgot to take the ball down the court and scored 2 for the other team". My wife said the gym was dead silent. No one knew what to say. Our team lost - I was afraid to ask by how much! Thankfully, it was by 7 or 9 points.

Aaron told me his team was pretty good about it. The coach said "It happens". Aaron said he told the coach: "I want labels. One goal labeled 'THEM' and one goal labeled 'US'."

Maybe I better not think too much about retirement. And, I am thankful Aaron could laugh about it, finally. I know how he feels. Sometimes it seems like I score points for the opposition as well. In the end, the Lord is gracious and forgiving. Aaron is going to play again. Maybe basketball is not his sport. Maybe I should get him thinking about football, or golf, or baseball, or water polo!

This and That

There is something about water that is relaxing and refreshing. This was a waterfall Connie and I saw north of Vancouver, B.C. The photo does not do it justice in terms of its beauty. The Psalmist has written My God, my soul is in despair within me; Therefore I remember You from the land of the Jordan and the peaks of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls; All Your breakers and Your waves have rolled over me. The LORD will command His lovingkindness in the daytime; And His song will be with me in the night . . . The grace of God rolls over us like waves - and they are refreshing.

This past week has been a roller coaster. I cannot imagine the grief of the families of the two girls who died Tuesday morning. Everything about that event still seems a bit surrealistic to me. The world is not the way it is suppose to be. There are no simple answers. May God's grace roll over the families like waves. I was so pleased that we could offer some solace by providing the church building to the family who requested it and by volunteering time and workers. We estimated about a thousand people were at the visitation. How good it was to see people willing to serve.

Sunday morning was an exhilarating experience. We witnessed how the providential grace of God orchestrates a persons life so that they are deployed in kingdom work in ways they never thought imaginable. "Here I am, send me" was clearly demonstrated for us all to see. Joe Andris would not have believed, a year ago, that he would be spending the winter as a short-term missionary on Copper Island. But, he is. His willingness to do so was a potent testimony. May the Lord's grace roll over Joe like the waters that surround the island on which he will be working.

The worship this past Sunday was powerful. Keith and Sue do a great job. They invest so much time and effort and prayer and energy into seeking to provide God-honoring worship - and they do. May they also find refreshment in God's grace.

Sunday evening there was a pot-luck/carry-in/provide food for everyone else supper for the small group that meets here at the building. About 30 folks showed up. The food was delicious and the conversations around the table energizing. We laughed together, prayed together, grieved together, and shared together. Such relationships are some of the water of grace that God pours into our lives.

When I got home Sunday evening I was bushed. And, the water of God's grace came in the form of playing a game with my son and wrestling with my dog and a hug from my wife. Refreshing water - deep, cool, clear water. Sometimes it seems we are in the desert. And then, the rain comes, streams of mercy are ours and they refresh us. Heaven has a river in it. I look forward to sitting by the shore of it and celebrating the wonderful grace of Jesus.

Swimmin' Hole

It is weird, but today I have been thinking about Spring Creek. When I was a kid, Spring Creek was a refuge, a haven, a natural and God given Disney World. Not that there was much to it. It is a rather small, meandering creek that winds its way through Rapides Parish. It begins near Otis and eventually dumps into Cocodrie Lake.

Growing up I experienced summer days that even those "acclimated" to the heat found unbearable. The temperature would be in the mid to upper 90's and the humidity would have joined it. The air was still and so was everything else. The cows would be lying under shade trees chewing their cuds. Dogs would seek the shelter of the porch or carport and do little more than pant. I have seen cats do the same. Even the crickets would quiet down on those oppressive days. We had no air conditioning. It seemed hard to draw your breath and no one felt like doing anything.

On those miserable days we found relief in Spring Creek. Big Bend, the Tilly Hole, Hogans Hole - all were delightful swimming holes located in Spring Creek. Before my brother could drive, we would try to convince my grandfather Jimmy to take us. He had a 1961 white GMC long wheel base truck that he used to peddle fruit (and various other commodities). It was just right for carrying a load of boys to the Creek. We would pile in about 1 or 2 in the afternoon. All of us would be wearing cut off blue jeans (NO ONE wore a bathing suit that I ever remember other than the cut-offs). Our mothers would not allow us to swim too soon after eating dinner (which was served at noon where I grew up). "You swim too soon after eating and you will get stomach cramps and sink to the bottom of Spring Creek" is what they told us. Grandpa was good to take us and often would roll out a blanket on the creek bank and go to sleep. It is impossible to describe the feeling of swinging from a rope off the bank of the creek and letting go. In the moment it takes to fall into the creek you thought about what was coming. The shock is unbelievable. Looking back, I am surprised it did not kill us all. There were those folks who climbed into the creek an inch at a time. I thought that was torture. By letting go of the rope, I knew that there was no turning back. I went for the total immersion method of entering the ice cold water. It always felt like I was having a heart attack. The shock from the coldness of the spring fed creek literally would suck the air out of your lungs. But, oh, it made you feel like you were resurrecting from the dead. A sense of exhilaration would explode through you. Often you would rise to the surface of the water and let out a woop of joy.

We would spend the afternoon swimming, jumping off the rope, wrestling, splashing, dunking, playing games, hiding from the scorching heat. The temperature always seemed cooler down by the creek. I can remember shivering from the cold of the creek when riding home in the back of Grandpa's truck. We all looked like prunes from being in the water so long. I also remember that wonderful feeling of being so tired and sunburned and hungry from an afternoon at the creek. I have heard it said that there is a "good" tired. This was it.

Perhaps those afternoons have become idyllic with the passing of time. Maybe I have exaggerated in my mind how good they were. The fall of man invaded those places. Sometimes we would get into fights, there were mosquitoes and the occasional water moccasin with which to deal. And yet, there was something wonderful about those long, hot, lazy afternoons spent immersing ourselves in Spring Creek. There is no going back. Some of those swimming holes are filled in. None of them seem as large as I remember them. But, every now and then, when I visit them, in the whisper of the hot summer wind I can hear the voices of boys delighting in the simple pleasure of cold water on a hot day.

A New Day

The sun rose on a new day in America today. I am a bit groggy from staying up and watching the election returns and the candidates speeches. I thought that McCain was gracious and Obama eloquent. In some ways, it was a surreal evening. For the first time in my life, we have a president that is younger than I am! The image of an African American basking in the success of his campaign for President is a vision many thought impossible but a few years ago. What is most astounding about the victory of Barack Obama is the meteoric trajectory of his past few years. In my mind it easily eclipses the ascent of Clinton from Hope, Arkansas to the White House. One moment we hear him say, "Hello, I am Barack Obama", and the next we hear "Hello, I am President Obama".

In an earlier time, I had voted for an African American running for president - Alan Keyes. I did not in this election. For me, there is something vaporous about Obama. I cannot get my hands on his substance. He is electrifying, eloquent, energizing, and expressive. But, is he capable? He is the perfect post-modern president. He seems to me to be "Every Man" and that is disconcerting. There are certain issues that drive the way I vote. Abortion, same sex marriage, and the role of the government in our every day lives are among the significant concerns for me.

I think that, as believers, we are compelled by scripture to pray for our president and the leaders of our country. We are called to recognize that regardless of the leadership of the country, our hope and faith are in the Lord. We are called to continue dispersing the gospel and expressing the love of Jesus Christ to the community in which we live. We are called to know the joy of the Lord as our strength. We are called to repent of our sin and grow in our love of Jesus.

Now is not the time for Christians to predict that the sky is falling and we should run for the hills. Now is the time God has called us to let our light shine before men - a city set on a hill. Now is the time for us to be salt bringing flavor to our culture. Now is the time for us to give an answer for the hope that is within us.

I pray that all of our leaders know God's grace, mercy, and strength. That the decisions they make will reflect a sense of concern for that which is honorable, right, and gracious. And, that we see a revival sweep through our churches which results in our faith being energized and animated.

VOTE!

The folks at the polling booth told me that the turn-out has been very good! I voted at 7:30 this morning. They gave me a little sticker that said "I Voted". I usually do not wear the sticker. Seems a bit ostentatious to me. But, today, I am wearing it. My conversations with a Chinese student in my seminary class has created a deeper appreciation and impression about the privilege of voting. Later, I am going to talk about who I voted for and why.

Latest "Adventure"

Jerry Sanders, a man from our church, had asked me about riding with him to Starved Rock State Park. Starved Rock is 100 miles north of Gibson City. Apparently, it is one of the state parks our governor has chosen to spare. Connie and I had been there once before, but it was at night because we had driven to the lodge with some friends after eating at the Cajun Connection (great place!) in Utica. The park does look different during the day. It is a spectacular place to go and see, especially with the leaves having turned. It was also fun to watch a push-boat and barges run through the lock.

Jerry and I climbed up to the peak of "Starved Rock". Afterwards, we ate a delicious lunch in the beautiful lodge. The only bummer about the lunch was the group of high school students eating near us that had two boys threatening to beat each other into oblivion. The group leader seemed oblivious until the boys stood up and started really getting into each others face. Nothing like a good rumble to spoil a lunch! They were separated and calmed down. All this happened behind Jerry and he was as oblivious as I was nervous.

The trip was all the more adventurous because we road motorcycles to get there. It was sunny and 74 degrees. We had attempted to ride up twice before, but weather and schedules got in the way. Jerry is a great guy to be around. His enthusiasm for life and the Lord is contagious. But, I was a bit nervous following him on a bike for 200 miles. For one thing, I have some fairly vivid memories of experiences in a vehicle with Jerry. We were in Canada on a short-term missions trip and I was in a van Jerry was driving. He almost got in a fight with a home-less guy and he drove a bit close to the folks in front of us. Jerry use to drive race cars and it shows. None of that was evidenced yesterday, other than riding through a school zone at 55 and passing a policeman at 65.

The glory of the Lord is all around us, if we but look. The changing of the seasons recall His faithfulness. Spring time and harvest declare something about Him if we but listen. You don't have to go to Starved Rock to see that majesty.

Pastoral Tension!

There was a cartoon in a magazine called "Leadership" that sticks in my mind. A pastor is sitting in his office preparing a sermon with a guilty look on his face. He is thinking "I should be out spending time with my people". The next panel shows the pastor balancing a coffee cup on his knee visiting with a dear senior saint in her home and he is thinking "I should be in my office preparing my sermon"! I know the feeling.

Every week I go through the dilemma of seeking to balance preparation and personal ministry. Right now, I am a bit over commited on the preparation side. Sunday A.M. and P.M., Wednesday P.M., and teaching a seminary class Thursday P.M. requires a lot of office time. But, I find when I spend too much time in the office I begin to become dull (perhaps the correct word is "duller") and lethargic. I love the people at our church. It is energizing to be with them. Visiting with them gives me perspective. It keeps me humble and helps me to understand how to apply the text.

Today is Wednesday. I have made 5 visits since Saturday. Some of them fairly long. I am feeling the tension. Sunday is looming. Tonight is looming! The question is, of course, what am I doing writing on this blog when I could be studying? Why am I studying when I should be visiting? And, what about praying, being with my family, getting a haircut, and raking leaves! Tension, we all live with it.

Surrounded

I took this picture outside of Vancouver, B.C. It was in 2005 and I was auditing a class at Regent Seminary which is located on the campus of the University of British Columbia. It fascinated me that there was a building in the middle of a lake with what appeared to be a garage door on the front of it. (Be sure and click on the pic for an enlarged view) Imagine the conveniences of living in this house. You would not have to worry about raking leaves or mowing the grass. You would not have to pick pop cans out of your yard. No squealing tires would awaken you in the middle of the night. You would not have to travel far to go fishing. There would be no cranky neighbors to worry you. Walking the dog would be interesting. It would also be a bit of a job to get the morning paper and the afternoon mail. The UPS driver may be hesitant to deliver your packages. Where would you plant the garden?

Do you ever feel surrounded? In 2 Kings there is the record of Elisha and his servant awakening in their cabin and discovering they were surrounded. Now when the attendant of the man of God had risen early and gone out, behold, an army with horses and chariots was circling the city. And his servant said to him, "Alas, my master! What shall we do?" The apostle Paul sometimes sensed that he was hemmed in - We are hard pressed on every side is the way he described it to the Corinthians. If someone lived in the building in the picture they may become weary of being encircled by water. But, they are also surrounded by the grandeur and glory of God. The Bible says we are surrounded - Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. It is easy to feel pressed in by troubles and hardships and worries. I need to remind myself to lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. In this world we will have tribulation, says Jesus, but He has overcome the world. The tribulation does not vanish, but His grace can sustain.

God and the Arts

Last evening we at GCBC celebrated the glory of God through the personal testimony of people and their artistic gifts. God is the God of Art. Not that all art glorifies God. The infection of man's sin has impacted everything, including the arts. Philip Ryken has written "Christians are suspicious (of art) because so much modern and postmodern art wallows in depravity. Anyone who doubts this should visit the senior exhibition of virtually any art school in the country." (p.100, My Father's World) I believe that God is an Artist. Perhaps it would be better said that God is THE Artist. He traffics in beauty. And He created the capacity for man to reflect His glory by creating art as well. Art gives us insight into the world around us. Art points us beyond ourselves. Art slows us down, draws us out, and makes us think. A lot of the Old Testament is written as poetry. Most Christians love the Psalms. The Scripture speaks of the beauty of the Lord and says the heavens declare His glory. Who would not say that the night sky is breathtaking? What a canvas! What an Artist!

In an effort to honor the gift and the Giver, we asked people to come and share their art with all of us. Some brought paintings, some poetry, some weavings, some carvings, some music, some photos, some sewing, some drawing, some glass-work, some writing, - all wonderful. And, I shared. To the degree that it is artistic is attributable to Bonnie Arends putting the music and photos together. All the pictures in the above movie I made. I used a digital camera and a telescope. Most were from my back yard though there is a moon rise picture from Larry and Linda David's back yard in Missouri and a moon rise from Copper Island, Canada. Click on the black "arrow" to run video. Let me know if you have any problems. The heavens declare the glory of God. Click here for an online photo gallery of Arts Night.

Camping with the Boys

This past Friday evening, Andrew, Aaron, Hoss and I tent camped at Sangchris State Park which is located 20 minutes from Springfield on Sangchris Lake. The name "Sangchris Lake" is derived from the fact that it lies in both Sangamon and Christian counties.

Everything seemed to come together for us to take this adventure this past weekend. Connie was in Chicago with a couple of girl-friends and 6000 other women at a Women's Conference. Aaron had Friday off from school and I was not preaching Sunday. And the weather was suppose to be gorgeous.

It had been a while since we had been camping together and I really was looking forward to spending time with my sons. (Lydia was invited but was unable to attend - she said she was baby sitting) Through the whole process I learned some lessons.

1. Lesson #1 It is easier to pack for a week in Florida not camping than 1 night at Sangchris Lake camping. Tent, tarp, food, utensils, coolers, camp stove, lantern, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, fire-wood, bug spray, fishing poles, etc, etc. It was no small chore to cram all the gear into my small car and still have room for Aaron, me, and a nervous 80 pound Old English Bulldog. I will never get all the white hair out of my car, ever. There had to be something illegal about how we were traveling down the road. One significant thing I overlooked about tent camping - you cannot drive up to your camp site. So, Aaron and I had to lug all of our camping stuff to where we would be spending the night. And, all the while, we had to deal with dear ole Hoss.

2. Lesson #2 Hoss the dog is fun to be around at home, but he does not belong on a camping trip. Aaron and I knew we had made a potential error when we took Hoss out of the car at the lake. He was on sensory overload. All the sights, sounds, and smells that greeted him tripped some sort of latent trigger in his doggy brain. He wanted to run to meet all his doggy neighbors, run to every tree, chase every squirrel, and meet all the other campers - all at the same time. And, Hoss has poor leash etiquette. On this trip I was imagining a shock collar in his future. The low point happened when a couple walked by our camp site with their dainty lap dog dancing on the end of its delicate pink leash. Hoss was pouting under a pic-nic table to which he was tied. He spied the prissy little canine and all of his adrenalin came flooding back. He lunged at Trixie almost dragging the table behind him. The couple stormed away throwing epitaphs over their shoulders at the barbarians with the wild-dog for a pet. That is why, in the above picture, you see Hoss in his new home. And, going to bed with Hoss in the tent with us, that is a whole other story.

3. Lesson #3 Spending time away from almost everything with your sons is a good thing. Andrew arrived about five, following his Friday afternoon class. We were all delighted to see him. Aaron and I had not gotten much beyond setting up the tent because we were too physically spent from dragging 500 pounds of camping baggage to the site and emotionally traumatized from having to cope with Hoss. So, Andrew promptly started supper. Getting a hot meal was a real pick-me-up and we all relaxed a bit. We all three laughed, a lot. We built a fire and played cards into the night. We talked about sports, and politics, and girls, and faith, and a myriad of other topics, large and small.

Aaron and I arrived back in Gibson at noon on Saturday. Andrew had school-work to get to and Aaron and I would need most of Saturday afternoon to unpack. Next time, I will plan at least two nights - because of so much work in a 24 hour period. And, I will leave Hoss at home. I am prayerful that there is a next time. All the work and aggravation was overshadowed by the joy of spending time with my sons. It is humbling to see how good the Lord has been to me. And, I am sure that Lydia and Connie are most anxious to join the fun the next time we go. There is nothing that excites them more than the prospect of spending the night on the ground without a bathroom and sleeping in a tent now filled with dog hair.

The "Common" Cold

The "common" cold. It does not feel so common to me. Headache, sore throat, fever, cough, and a variety of other unpleasant ailments have made life uncomfortable for the past week. It is no fun being sick. It started on a Tuesday, put me in bed on Wednesday, and has kept me up for at least two nights barking with Hoss the dog. I know the Sunday morning cough while preaching is a bit aggravating for folks listening. Not that I cared - I had taken so much cold medicine that by Sunday morning I felt like it was all an out-of body experience.

I guess the cold is common because so many of us suffer with it. There are those exceptionally robust folks who have "never been sick a day in my life" types. Good for them. It simply is not the way it works for the rest of humanity. We get colds and flu and stomach aches, even when we wash our hands continuously.

There will be no colds in heaven. Viruses arrived with the fall of man, I think. The Bible says that while we are in these bodies, we groan. Indeed. For me, another week will probably make a big difference. I am hopeful that my energy will return, my head clear, and my throat quiet down. For some people, a week won't make much difference in their suffering. It has come to stay. Being sick helps me remember how good it is to be healthy. Being sick helps me pray more earnestly for those whose hope of being well comes with the promise that the follower of Christ shall be changed, in a moment, in a twinkling of an eye. Until then, we all live in a world populated by cold viruses, and arthritis, and cancer. We cannot expect to escape unscathed. But we can expect grace in our very time of need.

Mrs. Barton

Etta Barton was my keeper. My mother was a nurse who worked 3 -11 PM at the Louisiana State School of Special Education. On the evenings when she was at work, Mrs. Barton would fix me supper and stay at our house until Mom got home. Sometimes she would spend the night. She was a kind woman, short of stature, round of body, with bright eyes and a weathered face that was carved with a thousand wrinkles, especially when she smiled. She always wore printed cotton dresses with hose which she rolled up to her knees and cotton shoes which she cut slits in to give relief to her corns. Her grandson, Bodie, was my best friend. There was no Mr. Barton that I ever knew. She sold Avon in order to provide herself with some income. There were those days when she would pack me and her Avon packages into her 1958 Chevrolet sedan and we would head out into the rural Louisiana country side delivering bags of encouragement to a feminine population who sometimes lived in discouraging circumstances. The ride in her green Chevy was down right electrifying. The floorboards of the car were rotted out and sticks and stones would fly through them as we drove gravel roads at a maddening pace. Mrs. Barton sat low in the car and could not see all that well over the enormous steering wheel.

One day we were making a delivery to McNary. It is a small (pop 200) community in central Louisiana located next to Glenmora (population 1,500). McNary had a creosote factory nearby where they produced such things as fence posts and rail-road ties. The smell of creosote was sometimes heavy in the humid air. Mrs. Barton pulled up to a ramshakled house that desperately needed paint. We walked up to the front porch and she banged on a torn screen door annoucing herself as the Avon Woman. I remember peering in and the house seemed so dark inside when compared to the bright sunlit porch. Out of the shadow a figure approached the screen door. It was a man. I remember him wearing a tank-top tee shirt. Mrs. Barton announced that she had a delivery for the lady of the house. The man invited us in and began to walk back into the recesses of the house. As he turned, Mrs. Barton and I both saw he was carrying a butcher knife. 40 years later the image in my mind is a knife 3 feet long and sharp enough to use as a razor. Regardless, I do clearly remember Mrs. Barton's response: "Run, Paul, Run"! (Pre-Gump) And run I did. Mrs. Barton could not run, but she did do a hurried shuffle. Back to the car, out on the highway, rocks flying through the floor-boards - we made our escape. She never said a word, but, if I remember it right - she did begin to laugh.

The world, I learned, could be a dangerous place. In my mind we had stumbled onto a nest of ill-doers who had ordered Avon from Etta Barton in order to lure us to the house and rob us or hold us for ransom. We had barely gotten away. The truth is, the man was probably in the kitchen cutting up a chicken or cleaning a squirrel. I'll never know.

The enemy of our souls appears as a roaring lion. He bristles, roars, shows his teeth, and threatens to undo us. It is not our imagination working over-time. He really is a threat. But, Aslan is Greater. Though this world with devils filled should threaten to undo us, we will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph thru us. The price of darkness grim, we tremble not for him, his rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure: one little word shall fell him.

Missing My Dad

This past Sunday was my fathers 83rd birthday. I have tried, for the past few years, to be in Louisiana twice a year - in September and March. This fall, however, it did not work for me to go and I missed being there. My sense of melancholy was compounded by a phone call from my dad. He had expected me and thought that I was, like I had in the past, going to surprise him by just showing up. He ended his phone call by saying how much he missed me being there. It was painful.

I have been away from home all of my adult life. When I was 18 I drove to Comfort, Texas to attend school. Later, I returned to Louisiana to finish college and begin seminary. At 24, I moved to Indiana and have spent the past 26 years in the Midwest - which I love. But, there are those times when I feel sad that I did not and my family did not live close to any extended family. The Lord has more than blessed with the provision of a wonderful spiritual family for which I am most grateful. But, I have had to watch my father age from a distance. Glimpses come, like slides in a slide show, but they only tell part of the story. The changes I witness are less gradual - more dramatic, less supple - more obvious and that may compound the sense of sadness. And, the opportunities to help - in whatever way I can - are few. My absence places some burden on my brother, and my Dad's wonderful wife, Edith.

Parenting your parent is tough. Doing it from long distance is sometimes tougher. It is true that the distance provides a buffer from some things, but I don't know that being insulated from certain aspects of aging parents is necessarily good. It is part of what it means to show grace and the love of God. It is about patience and Christ-likeness.

If this sounds like a bit of a pity-party - my apologies. It is not intended to be. Being middle aged, for those who are, often means going through a process with elderly parents. That process provides some wonderful opportunities but there is also a tinge of sadness to it all.

Hoss the Boss

Recently, Hoss and I were having a conversation. I told him that he is a "non-contributor". That is, he does not help around the house. He never washes his dish, does not laundry his blanket, never sweeps up his hair (millions), and never picks up his toys - except to play with them. Further more, I told him, he makes messes, does not prepare his own meals, and expects us to wait on him by walking him on a regular basis. Hoss, ole boy, you seem to be a taker and not a giver. The look you see is the look I received. Frankly, I think he was thinking - "food, food, food - give me some food". So, why do we keep him? Why do we continue to wait on him, sometimes with glee - "Come on, Hoss, lets go for a walk"!

There is something inexplicable about coming home and being greeted at the door by 80 pounds of exuberance. Jumping, licking, running - smiling??? We read into his actions his saying to us "I'm so glad to see you, I'm so glad to see you". Call me cynical, he probably is thinking "food, food, this is when I get food". He is hilarious, when he is not sleeping which is about 80% of the time. And, he does tricks - shake, roll-over, stand-up, sit - all for food. I guess he offers us some protection, especially against the rabbits that he sees in our yard. I guarantee our family will never be held hostage by rabbits as long as Hoss is around. There is something about how willing he is, no matter how stern he has been rebuked, to come back as warmly as ever. He never seems to hold a grudge, has never been ill tempered, does not gripe, is never petty, and is willing to put up with all sorts of shenanigans. In the long run, I guess he contributes plenty. But, I really do wish he could run a vacuum.

Moon Shots

Here is a moon picture I made in early September. I shot it by holding my camera up to the eyepiece. I have now made a holder for the camera to help make the pictures sharper.

Blue Monday

It is Monday morning and I feel a little bit blue. Nothing new, nothing serious. Why? Being physically tired has something to do with it. Anyone who thinks preaching is not draining has not done it. There is more to it than the physical weariness. Being with the people you love on Sunday is for me - energizing, exciting, and empowering. But, everyone has to get back to their homes and jobs. It is a bit like when your kids leave and go back to college after being home for a weekend. Their departure always leaves me a bit blue. For a pastor, the week builds toward a crescendo - Sunday becomes a focal point. Then, Sunday is over and the week gets started again. And, on Monday morning, you feel like you are back at the bottom of the hill climbing up - again. Monday is also a day with some self examination - "I should have said this", or "I should not have said this". Usually I feel like I came up short. Did I get the meaning of the text correct, was so and so offended by what I said, did this person sense they were welcomed, did that person have someone pray with them about their burden, and, and, and. But you dare not go too far down that road. The Lord knows our feet are but clay and that we are dust. It is all of Him. No matter how eloquent, no matter how friendly, no matter how thoughtful - it is all ashes if He is not in it. And, if His Spirit chooses, He can take Moses and Balaams' donkey and use them for His glory. Such reminders are great encouragers on Monday morning. A fresh cup of coffee, some promises from the Word, and the comfort of God's grace grant strength and endurance.

Hunting

Yesterday, Aaron and I spent the morning and part of the evening hunting. In particular, we were hunting doves. Frankly, dove hunting is my favorite, except for the heat. I enjoy it most, I think, because you shoot, shoot, shoot. Doves are hard to hit and that is okay. At the end of the day we had ten. They will be wrapped in bacon and cooked on the grill .

Some ask if Christians should hunt. Or, more generally, should anyone hunt due to the profliferation of food available to us.

Here are my responses:

1. Hunting provides me a wonderful opportunity to spend time with my sons. I would hunt with my daughter if she would so choose, but that is not her thing. For us, frankly, it is a man thing. Some of my favorite memories are hunting with my father and I want those memories for my sons. It also affords me, while making those memories, to teach Aaron how to be careful and responsible. You must be both when handling a firearm.

2. It is true that I can purchase meat at the grocery store. But, hunting reminds me that food does not come from a factory. People who say they would not hunt often do not hesitate to buy a steak at their favorite eatery and have no idea where that meat originated or the process involved in providing it to them. There is something to be said about hunting keeping you close to the land and I think that is a good thing.

3. What about the killing? I find no pleasure in the killing of an animal. I do not hunt just to kill. We eat what we take by hunting. The Lord let a sheet down in front of Peter and it was full of all sorts of animals which He commanded Peter to eat. Hunters help maintain equilibrium in the animal population and probably provide more in the way of resources for habitat than most other groups.

Aaron shot his first two doves yesterday. It was a good day for us to spend together with other men, outside, being together.

An Open Letter to the Girl Driving 85

I have been sitting on this letter for a year. It came from a true experience I had coming back from the hospital in Champaign.

You passed me today. I was driving on highway 47 north, headed for Gibson City when you flew around me. I saw you coming. One moment you were a dot in my rearview mirror and the next you were hugging my bumper. After you went around me I sped up. I was curious how fast you were driving. At 85 I could not keep up with you and soon you were once again a dot and then you were gone. At first, it made me mad. I don’t much like being passed. It is silly that I take it personally. But the fact that you were talking on a cell phone really ticked me off. That you were a young woman in college, indicated by the brief glimpse I had of you and the sticker on your car, did not help.

Then I started thinking about you. Why were you in such a hurry? What could have been so pressing, so important that you drove with such abandonment all the while chatting on the phone? Perhaps someone you loved lay drawing their last breath. Or, maybe your lover was about to board a plane to leave for a foreign war and needed one last glimpse of your face. I can imagine those situations but I really doubt either of those scenarios was the case. Honestly, I just think you were in a hurry. And you did not see talking and driving so fast as any big deal and I was just in the way.

As I thought about you, my anger migrated to grief. I grieve for you because you are living at such a frenetic pace that you are apt to miss many wonderful things in life. The culture we live in has moved us to warp speed and is robbing us of the common grace of life. I don’t mean to offer up weary clichés about slowing down and smelling roses. But, at your meteoric pace, you are apt to burn up in the atmosphere having not enjoyed the glory that cries out for your attention. It is hard to enjoy the beauty of flowers that are only a blur through the window. And, I would be willing to bet you perceive slower drivers as obstacles who are impeding your progress. And that makes you mad and that is sad. Stress does that to you and I think you must be stressed by the way you were driving. Unless, of course, you drive like that for the thrill of it.

I grieved for you because I imagined your speeding and yacking on the phone leading to tragedy for you and perhaps for someone else. I have known many young women like you. I have stood before them and asked them if they would commit the rest of their lives to the nervous young man quaking beside them. I have stood with these same young women as they hold before their fellow congregants a life they have produced and I have seen in their eyes a love that could border on worship. I have seen the contribution they can make to our world – the beauty and tenderness, the insight and example, the grace and laughter that only young women can bring.

And, I have lived long enough and have been involved with enough circumstances to know that all these wonderful things can be snatched away in a pile of twisted steel. You don’t realize it, but you are risking so much for so little. The sense of invincibility that you feel is a lie. It can happen to you. I know that because I have had that horrific experience of standing with parents and friends who are traumatized by their loss and by the question: what might have been? Now, I know that you can be driving the speed limit and not talking on the cell phone and die just as easily. You can also be lying in your bed and have a meteor fall through the roof and kill you as you sleep. But the risk – it is so much greater by what you were doing.

I know you because I have daughter your age. And all I want for her, I would wish for you. Please, the next time you get in your car, realize what risks you can control. Don’t jeopardize my life and don’t endanger yours by being so flippant with something so precious.

Reaching the Goal

We were thrilled to have Andrew graduate from Western with a degree in journalism this past May. College is an endurance test - for students and parents! He achieved that goal - and we were thankful. Now he is off to the next one - as a graduate student at UIS (Univ of Illinois, Springfield).

The Olympics has heightened our immediate awareness of achieving (or not) goals. It is a bit agonizing to see someone come up short (i.e. the hurdler Lolo Jones). I don't know if not achieving a particular goal is necessarily a failure. There are too many dynamics to consider before you automatically label a different outcome than you imagined a flop. And, James warns us to always consider the Lord in plans we make. (James 4:13-15) Of course, we can set goals that are unrealistic. I may set a goal to jog three times a week. That is probably doable. But, to set a goal to run a marathon next week is delusional. It ain't gonna happen!

Goals can be good, however. They can provide direction and purpose and keep us from simply flailing around. The elders of our church have been prayerfully considering what goals they should have for the coming year. They have come up with at least four. I am going to take one at a time and discuss them a bit here. Please feel free to respond to them.

Moon "X"

The "Werner X" is a bit of an optical illusion that appears on the moon once a month for about two hours. It occurs when sunlight is reflected off of certain ridges on the southern hemisphere of the moon just north of the crater "Werner" - hence the name. If you look closely at the image to the left, you can make it in the center of the photograph. Click on the picture if you have trouble seeing the "X" and you will open a larger version of the same image. This picture was made through my 102mm refractor telescope by my son, Andrew on August 8, 2008. I have also included a picture of the scope. Things above absolutely fascinate me and I am not sure why. They reflect the glory of God. Even the man-made technology that passes overhead shows God's glory - in that it demonstrates the grace of God in giving man intelligence and creativity. (I am not saying all technology is good) This week I observed, in little over an hour, not less than 7 satellites zip by. People probably weary of my talking about astronomy. I understand, but it is such an amazing thing to walk out on a clear night and look up. You don't need a telescope - just a bit of time. To do so helps put things in perspective, it helps you think about your origins, it helps stimulate worship, and it calls for a response. The heavens are declaring something to us if we but listen.

Eclipsed Forgivness - Sunday Morning Nerves

This is a picture I shot of a lunar eclipse in February of this year. The moon takes on an eery color as the earth's shadow crosses in front of it. This Sunday I am continuing my sermon series on Love and the Family. And, I am a bit nervous about it. The topic is forgiveness and how an unwillingness to forgive casts a shadow over our lives. I'm nervous because forgiveness is difficult. It would be a wonderful concept to discuss provided we have nothing to forgive. And, I am nervous because of the application of the truth of it - not just in the lives of those listening - but in my life. And, I am nervous because it is easy to get wrong - all kinds of weird ideas float around about forgiveness. I don't want to be guilty of perpetuating those ideas. The Bible says some amazing and breath-taking things about what it means to forgive and what it means to experience forgiveness. Anyway, I am nervous about this Sunday morning - and am praying for the Lord's grace.

Thinking of Sparrows

I love almost anything that flies, except for some insects. My intent with a feeder in my backyard was to attract birds (no surprise there). In particular, I was anxious to see Orioles, Blue Birds, Finches, and a variety of other colorful avian visitors. Every now and then I am honored by a visit from a feathery blossom of color, but for the most part I have sparrows stop by, like the one whose picture I took on my feeder. In partciular, I have the "House Sparrow". The House Sparrow is not indigenious to the U.S. It was brought over from England in the 1800s to help control insects in cities. This turned out to be a bit of a mistake because the population exploded. It is estimated that we currently have 150 million of these little birds calling the U.S. home. If only we could convince them to eat Japanese beetles!

Bird watching is biblical. Jesus said, Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And, Jesus used sparrows as an illustration of the knowledge God has of the mundane details of our lives. He watches us, He knows us, and He is aware of even the smallest details of our lives. Google Earth has nothing on the Lord! I commend to you bird watching. And, if you only see sparrows, they can serve as a reminder of the grace of God watching over your life.

Paul

Golfing

This past Monday afternoon was the Greg Arends Memorial Golf Outing. The purpose of the outing is to provide scholarships for GCMS high school students to attend FCA leadership camp. There were over twenty teams of 4 that played. Pictured at left are my 3 golf partners, Dave, Dave, and Brian. Our score did not garner much attention from PGA golf scouts looking for some senior players, but we did laugh a lot. We had been misinformed, we thought the highest score won the tournament.

After playing, the teams gathered for a meal and to hear a couple of high school students describe their experiences at last years FCA camp. One of the students was Steve Massey, a young man from our church. The keynote speaker for the evening was Trent Meacham. Trent plays basketball for the U of I and is a devoted follower of Jesus. He has interned with the FCA through this summer. It was a delightful ending to a delightful afternoon.

And yet. It was also a bit of a bittersweet experience. The outing is in memory of Greg Arends. An exuberent young man whose life ended while he was 17. The events unfolding the morning of his death are seared into my memory. At his funeral, I said "If you came (to this place) hoping for an easy and quick answer to those questions (which you are asking), you will leave disappointed. But, just as those questions are real, so the ultimate answer is real. That is, in the midst of this agony, in the midst of this tunnel, there is a very real and powerful HOPE." I believed that on January 22, 2003 and I believe that today. Jesus said, "I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me shall live even if he dies." The golf outing and the subsequent monies used to send young people to FCA camp where they either come to know Jesus as their Savior or grow in their knowledge of Him is a testimony that out of deep tragedy, the Lord can bring great good.

Copper Island

They are on their way! As I write this Flight 2410 is between Billiings and Bozeman, Montana at 38,000 feet doing 430 mph (the internet really is an amazing tool). The Copper Island crew convened at County Market early this morning, or late last night - depending on your perspective. They are headed to a small island off of Vancouver Island in British Columbia. There is a mission there which ministers to First Nations Children. We were there in 06 on a construction job and are going back to build a worship center. Anyway, we took Andrew to County Market at 3:10 this morning and most were already assembled. Two vans and a pickup left for Midway airport for the flight to Seattle. I did not sleep much last night. Partly because I was awakened at 1:30 A.M. by a banging sound. Laying in bed, I counted 1 1000, 2 1000, 3 1000 and knew the banging happened every 40 seconds. If it was a ghost; it was a ghost with rhythm. After prowling through the house I discovered it was the upstairs toilet running and shutting off, running and shutting off. If you have ever seen "The Christmas Story" and the dad's response to the furnace in the basement, you know my response to the toilet upstairs; minus the profanity. When I finally got back to bed it was not long until Andrew was to get up to fly to Seattle. It was an opportune time to pray for him, to pray for the team, to pray for the project, to pray for all our short-term ministries. It was also a time when I felt discouraged because I was not sharing this experience with Andrew. It was two years ago that I went to Copper Island and I was thrilled he was going, but I felt like I missed an opportunity for some shared experiences. Plus, I wanted to witness for myself Andrew growing in his faith and life-experiences throughout this trip. But, his mother reminded me that it was good I was not there. Andrew would grow more absent my presence. I consoled myself that she was right even though I grumbled about her being right "again". It really is a matter of faith, this raising children. The Lord gives them to you to steward, and you give them back to Him with prayer. And off they go, winging their way to do missions trips or college or become a missionary or to walk away from the Lord while you wait for them to come back. Off they go to jobs and marriage and children and heart-ache and blessings and joys. If it is possible, your love deepens and matures as they grow older. Certainly your prayer life becomes healthier! The plane is now 481 miles from Seattle. It is not just a plane, it is a symbol of my son winging his way to maturity.

Parking Lot

Here is what is happening this morning, July 23, at our parking lot. To be honest, it is exciting to see the work being done and it makes it hard to concentrate on sermon preparation. This is especially true when the roller/vibrator is right outside my office and everything is shaking and rattling. Progress is being made! Thank the Lord for the faithful giving of the Lord's people and for His timing. The foreman of the job said if we had waited one more month, the price would have almost doubled. They anticipate being done next week. Today, we are getting the first layer of asphalt. There is another to come and the painting to follow. It is a fascinating process to observe. Come and see! Park across the street - it is fun to watch.

Parking Lot

Summer Time Worry

Summer Time! Time for sippin' lemonade, laying in the hammock, watching the lightning bugs and life is good. Enter the mosquito. The mosquito is an amazing insect. It plunges its needle like proboscis into your skin and draws out blood which it needs to survive. And, that makes me worry. For one thing, I am a mosquito magnet. For another, I usually get some pretty big welts when bitten. But, the BIG worry is West Nile Virus. My idillyic summer relaxation is disruped by the buzzing of this bug around my head. With the buzzing comes the worry. Jesus said, Don't let your hearts worry, don't be afraid. But, how we love to worry, even in the relaxed atmosphere of summer time. Worry is not only a pest - it is a sin. What are we to do? For one thing, we can talk to ourselves, remind ourselves of the grace and goodness of Christ. We can remind ourselves that Jesus told us to trust Him even when we can't understand all that is taking place and when we don't agree with all that is taking place. And, we can wait for faith to become sight - hope to become reality. We can combat our worry with the promises of God, swatting at them whenever they begin to assualt us. There are some folks who should be worried and are not. Like the farmer Jesus told of who built bigger barns but paid no attention to His eternal destination. Summer time - it is time to relax and seek grace to not worry, except about what really matters.

View over the Tail

I shot this from the top turret position. Imagine looking back over the tail and seeing bunches of other B-17s and . . . BF109s and ME262s and FW190s. The skin on the plane is mighty thin.

Landing

Landing back at Willard airport. We were in the air about 30 minutes. We were on the plane for 45. Since we were the first flight, we were on board for the engine run up at the beginning of the day. That was exciting! They offered ear plugs, but I wanted the full effect. It was not possible to carry on a conversation because of engine noise.

B-17

Here she is. We "pulled the props through" since we were first.

Cockpit and Interior (new)

It is amazing how the props seem to stand still. I assure you that they were turning!

The interior of the B-17, from front to back to front.

B-17 Video from the Bombardier position

What a great view! I am sure it was a lot more exciting sitting behind the plexiglass when people were shooting at you. It was the "quietest" spot in the plane. That was, of course, relative.