To Market, to market, to buy a ........

Day 7 of our Grand Asia Adventure. This morning I went with Brigitte to the market to purchase some produce. You wouldn't believe all the things that are available at the local market. This one sets up each morning just outside the gate of their apartment complex. Booth after booth of fresh vegetables and fruit and...uhhh...and...well....uhhh....things that make you go "huh." Honestly, I cannot begin to imagine what some of the things are that the peddlers have. This market magically appears early in the morning and just as magically disappears around noon. They offer meat, but I'm skeptical of purchasing meat from a street vendor, although I must say the dogs that hang around the tent and eat the scraps are definitely satisfied customers.

One thing that's not available at the local market is the erhu. What's an erhu you say? Oh, you want to know how to pronounce "erhu?" That's easy--it's pronounced just like it's spelled. (O.K., it's like you're saying are  and who.) An erhu is a Chinese alto fiddle. Chances are you've seen one in the movies or then again, chances are you've never seen one. They have a distinct sound, kind of like the sound a cat makes when you're trying to pull it through a knot hole in a fence by the tail. For some bizarre reason I decided I'd like to have one. Well, it's not actually so bizarre as it is insane.

One of the local ethnic minorities have a dance each and every night (except when they don't) just outside our bedroom window. They begin around 8:00 and finish when everyone is danced out--usually around 9:30 or whenever the rain begins. They are led by some guy playing an erhu and he's accompanied by anywhere from one to six instruments that resemble a mandolin the same way a kangaroo resembles a donkey. This extemporaneous band plays the same song over and over and over and over and over...well, you get the picture. The dancers form a circle and do some form of side-step, side-step, kick, kick, kick except when they don't. There's not real pattern or rhythm to the dance, but they all seem to know what to do and don't kick the person next to them.

Maybe it's because I've been hearing the same song over and over and over and over and ....that I've decided I'd like to have one. So, we began looking for an erhu. Brigitte took me to Old Town last night and we began our search. We were told that erhus were not sold in our town--by several merchants. Later we asked the Asian taxi driver (between honks) if he knew where we could secure one and he mentioned a town about 40 minutes away. Of course, he'd be happy to drive us there. B decided to ask the erhu player last night when they assembled for the dance and before he began playing the same song over and over and over and over and...(forgive me, I've got this song stuck in my head) where to find one. He told her of a location across town but said I'd probably not be able to select a good one. He offered to go with us to make the purchase.

Tonight Brigitte, Judy and I prepared to travel across town to look for one when Kevin realized what we were seeking. He said there was a music store just across the street from our apartment complex that sells them. He was right. Judy, Brigitte and I crossed the street (no small fete in Asia), walked into the store, and found my erhu. Brigitte insisted on purchasing it for me for Father's Day, which she did. I am now the proud owner of an erhu.

I'm willing to bet money that I'm the only non-musical pastor in all of the USAmerica who is the owner of an erhu. Can't say I can make it sound good, but I can make it sound. But then, so can my granddaughters.

Two year old Trinity can make it sound better than I can. But then, she's lived in Asia most of her life, so she has a built-in advantage.
Tomorrow we play the role of tourist and travel further up into the mountains. Kevin and Brigitte are taking a couple of days off to travel with us. What this means is that you won't be subjected to a new blog post for a couple of days. Try to survive without updates from this side of the world. You can do it, I know you can.

Taxi question and other thoughts

Day 5 has been a fun, fun day. We made a couple of trips in a taxi and I made a discovery. What do you think is the first thing to wear out on an Asian taxi? Nope, not the breaks, they don't use them all that much. No, it's not the signal lights--for the same reason. Not the engine either, even though they do use their engines a lot. Give up? It's the..................horn. Yep, the horn is the most used item on an Asian taxi. Tonight I counted 15 hpm (honks per minute for the non-initiated Asian rider). Training for an Asian taxi drive consists of, well, actually  nothing. I think the taxi companies spend a lot of time at the bumper car places and pick the person who was bumped the least. Riding in an Asian taxi is very similar to being a passenger in a bumper car.

      Today Judy, Brigitte and I took the girls to a local amusement park while Kevin worked. We all had a good time. I absolutely loved watching the girls explore the rides.  Grace has become a thill-seeker and just loves the roller coaster. Granna was such a good sport and enjoyed the ride as well. Everything is much more fun when experienced with a 5-year old. "Go Granna!"

Of course, when you're only 2 you have to settle for a less wild ride. Trinity  wanted the big horse. Granna's get to ride for free. "Go Granna!"

And what is a trip to an amusement park without ice cream. Trinity is showing the typical Asian stance. My knees just won't cooperate when I attempt this stance.

Tonight Brigitte and I had a daughter/dad night and went to the local Old Town. We observed the epitome of Chinglish in this sign. See if you can figure out what the sign is attempting to say.

My interpretaion is "Stupid American--keep off the grass!"

In keeping with the weird theme I've got going at the moment, I want to let you in on a secret I discovered. Elvis is alive and well and living in Asia. Here's proof:

What this guy lacked in talent he more than overcompensated for with volumn and reverb in his speakers. (My ears stopped bleeding about a half-hour ago.)

I would be remiss if I left out a decent picture of Old Town. It is beautiful with gorgeous water gardens. I shot this while on a small bridge spanning the stream that flows throughout the area.

This is a beautiful part of the world. While I often claim to have left my farm-boy roots behind, I really haven't. My attention is continually drawn to the beautiful plants and the growing gardens here. Maybe tomorrow I can get a few shots of the gardens they grow along the side of the streets. Any place--and I really do mean ANY place there's a square foot of ground available--they use it to grow food. Got to love their use of the land. They'll use the space until someone "paves paradise and puts in a parking lot."
     It's been a great day here in Asia. The granddaughters have warmed the cockles of my heart repeatedly today. At this moment they've had their baths and snacks, have said their prayers and had their Bible story, sang their songs and are tucked in--hopefully--for the night. Good evening from the other side of the world.

Random Thoughts

Today is day 4 of our grand adventure in Asia. Yesterday we spent some time with like-minded folks and celebrated Father's goodness. Then we did the one thing we most had in common--we went to eat. Absolutely love the food in this area of the world. They actually have beef here--not just water buffalo. (Insert radom thought here: the girls are playing music from the Veggie Tales record and the song playing now is "Everybody has a water buffalo." That's not strange at all in this part of the world.) They prepare the beef in the most unusual and tasty way possible. Absolutely love it.
My respect and admiration for our kids living here in Asia increases exponentially (mark it down--two posts in a row using the word exponentially)each time we're with them. Just doing life here is a full-time job. It's almost like the natives have figured out the most challenging, taxing and tiring way to do things, and made that normal. Take plumbing. The Asians just stink at plumbing (pun intended). For example, the sink in the bathroom. Every side of the sink is angled. Great for drainage; not so great for setting things. Try shaving when the can of lather keeps falling into the water and the razor won't stay in place. Then, when draining the water con stubble, don't drain it too fast. For some unexplainable reason, not all the water can escape quickly via the sink drain, so it spills out onto the bathroom floor. OR, have they ingenously discovered how to multi-task: shave AND wash your feet at the same time. Maybe there's some theraputic value to having your feet marinating in shaving cream and whisker stubble.
And the bath tub con shower. The bottom of the tub is ribbed. Extremely uncomfortable and challenging to stand for showering. OR, have they again ingenously figured out how to conserve water. No one can withstand the pain of standing on those ribs for more than .645 minutes. BRILLIANT?!?!
Yes, life in Asis is challenging. But my kids have adapted because they love the Asian people and desperately want them to know the Truth. And at the end of the day, so do I. But I must confess, it would be nice if it was someone else's kids, not mine, helping them know the Truth. I also know that if they don't do it, no one else will. So there are here with my blessings and admiration.

End of the World

Judy and I are in Asia visiting family. Yesterday, my first day in Asia, (after spending 32 hours in transit the very long day before) I traveled with some new friends to look for a unique people group. We traveled some rough roads. Now that I think about it, I traveled almost as much distance vertically (as in bouncing up an down) as horizontally. We congressed (if pro is positive and con is negative, what is the natural opposite of progress?) through roads. We began with smooth highways, congressed to cobblestone, then to dirt. Each step of the congress slowed us down exponentially (been waiting for an opportunity to use that word). We saw georgous scenery and interesting people. A couple of the villages we went through were having market day. You should see market day in a small village in Asia. I can't begin to describe all the things for sale, nor adequately convey the smells of the street-vendor food. My memory took us to a scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark when Indiana Jones was looking for a kidnapped person. Remember how the street vendors just closed in on them? That is a reasonable comparison to market day in a small village in Asia.
We finally arrived at our desired location by late afternoon. We'd stopped for lunch around 2:30 and had some very tasty food. When we arrived at our location about an hour after lunch, we looked up the side of the mountain and was able to see our restaurant. It wasn't far away, distance wise, but over an hour by car. We found some villages situated on the side of the mountain, unaccessible by car. We hiked up the side of the mountain and attempted to visit with the villagers. They didn't speak the same language as the rest of the people of the country. After several attempts, we finally found a man who could speak the common language.
While my friends communicated with him, I stayed up on the high ground to pray for the contact. As I surveyed the scenery, it occured to me that these mountains were more than mountains. While they were indeed beautiful and provided a livelihood for the residents, they were also prisons. These folks were totally unaware of things taking place in the rest of the world. Because they were so remote and isolated, they knew nothing of the things we take for granted. They had no knowledge of our Lord--hadn't ever heard His name before. They had no knowledge of the things taking place in their world. Their world consisted of their mountain pass. Now I realize some will think this is great--to have a self-contained world. But the experiences they are missing are mind boggling.
Yesterday my world vision was expanded by our trip while I realized other folks will never have the opportunity to expand theirs. I am a blessed man.
Last night I got a good nights' sleep. When I awoke this morning, everyone else was in the living room talking and laughing. I really wanted to get up but couldn't find a way to get uncomfortable in bed. Really, every way I turned was comfortable. Finally decided to just suck-it-up and get out of bed. Glad I did. Our daughter had make pumpkin bread out of butternut squash and it was AMAZING. Thank you, daughter, for taking care of your father. Judy and I are thrilled (and stiff and sore and dealing with jet-lag) and so happy to be here.
I'll blog as often as I can while we're here in Asia. Oh, I titled my post "End of the World." What I didn't mention is that we really didn't travel to the end of the world yesterday, but we could see it from our final destination. It was beautiful, but very remote.

When Thoughts Don't Align with Truth

POINT OF REFERENCE: Joshua 7:7 Almighty, Lord, why did You bring these people across the Jordan River? Was it to hand us over to the Amorites so that they could destroy us? I wish we had been content to live on the other side of the Jordan!
Joshua is the new leader of Israel at this point and has met with huge successes. The nation has crossed the Jordan River—ON DRY GROUND DURING FLOOD SEASON—after a 40-year hiatus in the wilderness. They’d wasted 40 years out of sheer disobedience to God. But all that is changing. They’re now in the Promised Land and had their first military victory. God took down the walls of Jericho so Israel could prevail over their foes. God was bringing judgment upon the people of Canaan for their many years of outright sin and rebellion against the one true God. The Lord was using Joshua and the army of Israel to accomplish His purposes. Joshua should have been higher than a kite in March. He wasn’t.
My degree in psychology (yes, really, I DO have a degree in psychology) gives me just enough insight to be dangerous. My own struggle with mild depression gives me some first-hand experience on the subject as well. And my training and experience tell me Joshua was depressed. Fresh-on-the-heels of two major advancements (the Jordan crossing and the Jericho victory), Israel suffered a major set-back. The puny city of Ai had kicked their tails and cost the lives of 36 soldiers. For the first time an Israeli soldier had shed his blood fighting for his country. Beyond the loss of life was the sense of despair. Look at how the Bible describes it: Israel’s troops lost heart and were scared stiff. The old fear their parents/grandparents had lived with resurfaced. To Joshua things appeared hopeless. I wish we had been content to live on the other side of the Jordan!
No doubt Joshua is second-guessing his leadership skills. Perhaps he’s even questioning the wisdom of following God and crossing the Jordan. It’s entirely possible that he flashed-back to a day 40 years ago when 10 of the 12 spies talked the people out of attempting to conquer Canaan and had a few fleeting thoughts that “maybe they were right after all.”
Look back to Joshua 1:3 and 5 to see what God had earlier told Joshua: I will give you every place on which you set foot, as I promised Moses. (5) No one will be able to oppose you successfully as long as you live. I will be with you as I was with Moses. I will never neglect you or abandon you. Do you think Joshua might have felt like he was getting mixed signals from the Lord? What in the world had happened?
God had NOT changed His mind nor gone back on His promise. He had NOT abandoned Joshua. What had happened was that Israel had disobeyed God. Not the whole nation, just one man, a guy named Achan. But the sin of that one man had affected the whole nation just like a plague begins with a single case. God had a special relationship with Israel and the nation was about to get hit with a spiritual virus. God dealt with it immediately. Joshua didn’t know what or why it had happened. He just felt betrayed, neglected and abandoned. He began to express thoughts that didn’t align with truth.
And that’s one of the problems of depression—our thoughts don’t align with God’s reality. Things appear worse than they really are. We mistakenly believe we’ve been abandoned. We feel hurt, alone, and often wish to die. When I was out of ministry there were days when I told the Lord, “You know I don’t believe in suicide and won’t actually do anything to harm myself. However, if You could see Your way to let a semi-truck run a red light and take me out, I’d be fine with that. I’d be out of my misery and my family could get a pile of money from the trucking company for the accident.” THANK YOU GOD FOR NOT HONORING THAT PRAYER!
God proved His faithfulness to never abandon Joshua. God spoke to him about sin in the camp and told him how to deal with it. Joshua did and God restored the power and might of the Israeli army.
Watch out for fits of depression when your plans get interrupted. Don’t allow your thoughts to get out of alignment with God’s word. It might not be that God has changed His mind or that you’ve missed God’s plan for your life. It just might be that your life has gotten out of balance and God is stopping you for realignment. Are you doing the right thing but in the wrong way? Is there an Achan in your life that’s threatening to infect your spiritual life with a damaging sin virus? Regardless, do what Joshua did—he got on his face before the Lord. Yes, he was whining about some things, but God can handle our whining. What doesn’t work is our withdrawing from Him. Draw near unto Him and He will draw near to you. Watch to see how God will restore you. He always keeps His promises.

Risking Success

Point of Reference: Joshua 6:1 Jericho was bolted and barred shut because the people were afraid of the Israelites.
The cowardly Israelites 40 years earlier made a rush-to-judgment about Canaan and incorrectly assumed it was an unconquerable land. Jericho assumed, rightly so, that the invading Israeli army was unstoppable. But because of the false assumption of the Israelites the correct assumption of the people of Jericho failed to materialize—for 40 years. Weird, the enemies of God’s people had a better handle on reality than did God’s people. God’s people failed to risk success for fear of failure.
This whole scenario got me to thinking (a dangerous thing) about other times the people of God failed to achieve what God had planned because they/we feared failure. We’ve scaled back on plans because they were too aggressive and “we probably wouldn’t be able to afford it.” Never mind that God said, “Do it” and was on the hook to provide the funds; it didn’t seem feasible and do-able, so we didn’t risk success for fear of failure.
Nothing in my experience compares to attacking a walled city, like Jericho, with a battle plan similar to what God gave Joshua. Verses 3-5 read: All the soldiers will march around the city once a day for 6 days. Seven priests will carry rams’ horns ahead of the ark. But on the 7th day you must march around the city 7 times while the priests blow their horns. When you hear a long blast on the horn, all the troops must shout very loudly. The wall around the city will collapse. Then the troops must charge straight ahead into the city. Strangest battle plan ever devised. March daily for 6 days, on the 7th day make 7 trips around the city, then blow horns and shout. Much easier than battering rams and siege ramps that would take months, maybe even years, to complete. If a pastor today suggested such a ridiculous strategy for advancing the Kingdom of God, he’d be fired on the spot.
Perhaps it was because they had just crossed the Jordan River on dry ground (God parted the water for them) and saw first-hand what God was capable of doing. Perhaps it was because they liked having a new leader and Joshua had successfully delivered them onto Canaan’s soil. Perhaps it was because they had finally learned to trust God. Perhaps…it doesn’t matter the perhaps, they did what God told Joshua to have them do. They marched and probably looked ridiculous in the process. But they chose to risk success OVER the fear of failure. And God honored their work. Jericho fell.
It’s time we take a new look at ventures the Lord is leading us to attempt. We sit down and count the cost—which is Biblical. But usually we discount the intangible leading of the Lord over the tangible visible cost. We often allow our fear of failure to stop us from moving forward. We don’t want to risk failure. But WHAT IF we were willing to risk success? Nothing of significance has ever been accomplished without a certain amount of risk. The successful folks were willing to risk failure because they knew/know you can’t have success without the option of failure.
Are you facing any challenges today that have you in a quandary? Are you unable to make a decision for fear of failure? Is the risk of success an option? Bet it is!

Memorial Day Musings

Point of reference: Joshua 4:4-8, where Joshua has 12 men select stones from the middle of the Jordan River to use to build a permanent reminder of what God had done for them.
In just a few hours it will be Memorial Day. Tomorrow we’ll see flags posted all over town—I’ll post ours. We’ll have the day off and give what could most accurately be described as a casual nod to the real meaning behind Memorial Day.
Back in the day when I was a boy we called it Decoration Day. My Mom would make floral arrangements from the many flowers she had growing in our garden and we’d travel to the cemetery where most of my family is buried and decorate their graves. Mom and Dad would talk about each family member, briefly reliving their lives and, sometimes, the manner of their deaths. Late in the day, we’d return to remove the flowers so the cemetery staff could mow. Mom took the lead to decorate the graves, keeping with the tradition of how Decoration/Memorial Day began. Stories are varied but all seem to agree that this observance originated with women decorating the graves of soldiers killed in the (un)Civil War. Legend has it that at first they only decorated the graves of the soldiers who fought on their side. Soon they realized there were mothers in other parts of the country grieving over the death of their sons and, because of distance, couldn’t honor their loved ones. So these compassionate ladies of the South also laid flowers on the graves of the Union soldiers buried near their Confederate Sons.
Over time we changed the name to Memorial Day and have placed an emphasis on honoring all who have and are giving of themselves in the service of our country. We especially honor those who died in the line of duty. I need a reminder to realize we have men and women struggling on foreign soil to protect our freedom.
You see, this Memorial Day weekend we’ve occupied ourselves with our own lives. All the local high schools have held their graduations over the last couple of days at the United Spirit Arena. Local school and college baseball teams have been involved in post-season tournament play and all have hopes of a state or national title. The NBA is now down to two teams who will compete for the trophy. There was a big race in Indianapolis today and millions of people watched it in person or on television. The temperature is soaring—actually, record breaking, and our church lost most of its air conditioning units this very morning, so it was hot in worship. We were a little uncomfortable. Yes, I need a reminder that some of my fellow citizens are suffering for the cause of freedom.
Centuries ago—actually, millenniums ago—God was leading a group of people from the wilderness into their promised land. He would perform a miracle to get them from one side of a flooded river to the other; He would part the river and establish dry ground. (Read my previous posting on the Wet Ankle Hall of Fame for more background.) In the process He gave instructions to the nation’s leader to have men gather the rocks and establish a permanent reminder of His work on Israel’s behalf. God knew humans forget what He does on our behalf. (I remember an old adage that goes like this: If we could forget our problems as quickly as we forget our blessings, we’d not have many problems.)
Have you considered lately all God has done for you? Have I? Have we given much thought to how much others are sacrificing for our country? Maybe, just maybe, May 30, 2011, would be a good time to reflect and give thanks to God and to our military families. “Thank You, O Lord, for blessing the U.S.A.”

Wet Ankle Hall of Fame?

REFERENCE POINT: Joshua 3:15. When the priests who were carrying the ark came to the edge of the Jordan River and set foot in the water, the water stopped flowing from upstream.
This passage of scripture has always fascinated me. The water would not stop flowing UNTIL they got their feet wet. They’d still be standing there today (all right, their mummified corpses) if they were waiting on the water to stop flowing before they moved. God was waiting on them to exercise faith in His word and get their feet wet. They did, the water stopped and the whole nation crossed over ON DRY GROUND.
The only ones who get their feet wet that day were the priests carrying the ark—everyone else got to walk on dry land. Without their step of faith there would not have been the successful DRY crossing.
Here’s where my weird mind kicks in. What was it like for them to walk the rest of the way with soggy sandals? Did they slip? Did their sandals squeak, like my pair does when they get wet? Did their feet get muddy since they had wet ankles and soggy sandals and the river bed was now dusty and dust just seems to be attracted to damp soles? Just how uncomfortable were they the rest of the day?
But what a sense of satisfaction they must have shared, knowing their obedience had unlocked God’s power to part the river! For 40 years the nation had looked across that river to the land that should have been theirs. For 40 years they had eaten the same food, worn the same clothes, and followed the same routine while waiting on the older folks to die off. Now, everyone was on the other side and they had led the way.
These guys belong in the Wet Ankle Hall of Fame.
What’s that, you say? You’ve never heard of the Wet Ankle Hall of Fame? I shouldn’t wonder because I just made it up. To the best of my knowledge such a place doesn’t exist—but I think it should. Or, if you think it best to not establish an actual hall, how about a special recognition? Something like making them members of The Royal Order of Soggy Sandals? We could look for contemporary folks worthy of such an honor. We could develop a lapel pin for people who make it into this royal order shaped like a sandal with drops of water gushing out. Maybe develop a logo of a foot being submerged into water for marketing purposes. We could develop a whole line of sandals that are water resistant and dust repellant. We could make them from organic material harvested from the Jordan River or the Red Sea so we could have a connection with the places where the water was parted. Once a year we could have a water-parting party to commemorate these events and have bottled water from Israel flown in. We could push to make it a national holiday and encourage pastors to preach on water crossings on the Sunday leading up to the holiday.
Or, we could recognize that these guys did what they were supposed to do and not make such a big deal out of obedience. I don’t remember seeing their names mentioned as the ones who got their feet wet. They’re just listed as men doing the right thing and God blessed their obedience. May, just maybe, that’s the lesson we need to learn. Don’t make such a big deal out of normal obedience. Expect to always do the right thing and watch what God will do with our obedience.

Exit or Entry Strategy

Joshua, chapter 3, is a fascinating Old Testament read. Joshua has been assigned the role of leader for the nation of Israel. They are still in exile in the wilderness, but are preparing to cross the Jordan River and claim their inheritance. Of course, there were people living in the land they were to inherit—poachers on their land. These poachers had been there a long time and had totally turned their backs on God. The Lord’s patience had expired toward these Canaanites and He was combining the entrance of Israel with the judgment on Canaan.
In this chapter God tells Joshua to cross the Jordan River. Once again He will part a large body of water and allow His people to cross on dry land. Now God doesn’t often repeat His miracles. He’s such a creative God that He doesn’t need to do reruns and He’s so perfect that He doesn’t need do-overs. No mulligan needed for Jehovah. But on occasion He has repeated Himself, which is what He was about to do for Israel. It would be new for most of the nation since everyone who was older than 40 when Israel snubbed her nose at God has died. People, say 55 and older, would remember the first crossing when they were leaving Egypt.
My, oh my, how 40 years changes things. When Israel first experienced the parting of waters the nation was exiting Egypt and avoiding conflict with Pharaoh’s army. This new parting—of the Jordan River—would be different. This one was an entrance to accept conflict. Totally different strategies: one to exit and avoid; the second to enter and fight.
Amazing how God can change people. Forty years earlier He had rescued a group of slaves who were, for the most part, a bunch of cowards. They feared confrontation with Pharaoh, with his army, and with the wilderness nations. Strangely enough, they didn’t fear confronting and criticizing Moses; they didn’t fear confronting/criticizing God EVEN THOUGH they had observed first-hand what He did to Egypt, ala the ten plagues. When they first arrived at the Jordan and saw Canaan, they were more fearful of confronting the Canaanites than facing God’s wrath. That decision cost them BIG TIME! You’d think that after watching Him systematically take Egypt apart, plague-by-plague, they would have trusted Him to do the same to the Canaanites. He had crushed the Egyptian army by collapsing walls of water when the Red Sea returned to its’ pre-parting ways. Why didn’t they recognize that He could have crushed any Canaanite army even absent the water walls of a sea?
Now, 40 years later, after wasting all this time in the desert, they’re finally moving forward. Forty years of wasted living—of existing in the desert eating the same thing three times a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, for………. 40…………. long…………. years. All during this time Canaan had been producing fruit and vegetables—a land flowing with milk and honey—while they ate the same stuff! Forty years of wearing the same clothes, permanently living in tents (that’s permanently living in impermanence), always packing and unpacking. Forty years of unproductive living, just waiting to die so the survivors could move on to accomplish God’s purposes. (I wonder if, toward the end when only a few of the old-timers were still alive, if maybe, just maybe, the younger folks were tempted to put a pillow over the faces of the elderly as they slept. Maybe try to shorten the extended stay in the wilderness just a little?)
Forty years earlier their ancestors had been given a choice: the security of the monotonous VS. the insecurity of the adventurous. They’d chosen/settled for security of the known as opposed to the insecurity of the unknown. And it cost them—DEARLY!
How many times have I—have you—settled for security over adventure? How many times have we missed the productive years of being able to enjoy the fruit of our Canaan adventure because we chickened out on following God when He asked us to take a step of faith into the unknown? This is bothering me today. Is it a question you struggle with as well?

How Long Wrong?

There was an interesting phenomenon surrounding my early days of “church going.”
I place it in quotations because it was what we did, as in “get ready, we’re going to church.” My parents took me to church before I was born, knew my own name or could even count to one. “Church going” was a normal part of my routine. Who am I kidding, it was our routine. My earliest memories are around church going and my mother playing the piano for church. (You’d think that hearing the piano played in vitro would have led me to have an ear for music. Oh that it were true. My ear is drawn to magnets because it’s tin.)
My maternal grandparents lived next door to the First Baptist Church of Stover, Missouri, back in the days when no one locked their doors, including the church. So whenever we visited the grandparents, I played with the pastor’s son and we played in church. We played church. Not that it was all that much fun, it was just what we did—we didn’t know any better.
Church going wasn’t much fun in those days. Somehow the Puritan influence must have carried over into Baptist churches. (Someone has said the Puritans were afraid that someone somewhere might be enjoying themselves and they were bent on stopping that frivolity.) Most of what I remember about church going was along the lines of, “stop that—you’re in God’s house.” “Shush, you’re in God’s house.” “God doesn’t like it when you do that in His house.”
Funny, when we played church and no adults were with us, God didn’t seem to mind if we got loud or laughed or—heaven forbid—ran in the aisles. The ceiling didn’t fall in. And, I can’t believe I’m admitting this, the pews were great fun to crawl under. (If my grandmother had known what we were doing I’d not be alive to be making this confession. Fortunately, her eye sight was failing and didn’t realize the dust on the front of my jeans came from the church floors under the pews. I think the custodian loved it when we played there.)
After the novelty of church going rubbed off, about the time I approached puberty, I no longer wanted to go. Strange how a kid can get up feeling normal until he realizes it’s Sunday and church going day and he gets a bad case of “Mommy, I don’t feel good. I better stay home today?” Of course Mom’s intuitive sense knew better and we went to church. (One Sunday afternoon while playing with cousins, a rock was dropped on the ring finger of my right hand and the tip was nearly gone—hanging by a thread. We made an emergency trip to Gunn Clinic and Dr. Gunn sewed the tip back on. Surely this would qualify for an exemption from Sunday night church, but nnnoooooooo, we were in the car headed back. I played the old “my finger hurts so much I might throw up” card and did get a single night reprieve from church going.
When God was calling me to be a pastor I rejected His call, not wanting to live a life devoid of joy. My early days as a pastor were marked by more Puritanical pursuits than joy. After all, I was a pastor and church going was serious business. I was wrong.
This last week as I was working my way through Deuteronomy I came to chapter 16, verse 11 and read (in the God’s Word translation): Enjoy yourselves in the presence of the Lord your God….Enjoy yourselves at the place the Lord your God will choose for His name to live. In the midst of all the teachings about sacrifices God tells His people to enjoy themselves in His presence. EVEN IN THE OLD TESTAMENT!
Today at Bacon Heights we enjoyed ourselves in the presence of the Lord our God. We sang Nick’s welcome song, a take-off on the YMCA song and I believe God smiled. I sure did. We baptized—a father baptized his son and another father was baptized along with his son. We clapped and I believe God smiled. Pastor Jerry challenged us about ministering in our neighborhood and spoke about a partnership project. I believe God smiled at his children taking seriously His command to take the gospel into the whole world, including our own back yard. Yes, I truly believe God smiled at our worship today. I know I sure did.

When old guys can't sleep.

This morning I awakened early and couldn't get back to sleep. This not being normal, I decided to clear some debris from my home desk and have a quiet time. As I scooped some of the piles from my desk I discovered the latest issue of Texas Monthly. Quickly removing it from the confines of it's plastic straight-jacket, I discovered a letter firmly attached to the cover. It was a renewal offer. And, the offer appeared inviting. But when I began to scan the magazine a couple of post cards fell out. They were both cards soliciting subscribers to Texas Monthly. And, the cards offered a better deal than the letter.

So in my still-sleep-deprived state, I wrote the following letter:

Ms. Rebecca Chandler, Audience Development
Texas Monthly
PO Box 421935
Palm Coast, FL 32142-1935
Re: Our “Best Deal”
Dear Ms. Chandler,
Realizing this will probably never reach your desk because it’s not a renewal of your “best deal,” this letter is now just an attempt to register my indignation at what I perceive to be an abuse of the word “best.” Plus, it’s also an attempt to discover one of the great mysteries of our day, that mystery being, “do publishers ever read the mail we, the loyal customers, write?”
This morning I opened my latest edition of Texas Monthly and found the attached letter offering me an EXCLUSIVE RENEWAL OFFER! You ask me to renew my subscription now to help you plan better so you can offer me the savings you will reap from knowing your upcoming paper and printing needs. And, if “I act now I’ll enjoy the greatest savings. These are your best offers.” You proceed to offer me 26 issues for just $25.00. This amounts to $.96 per copy, which is a decent bargain.
HOWEVER, in one of the many annoying post cards you, like most publishers insist on inserting into my magazines these days, I find an offer made that will allow ANYONE, not just a loyal subscriber like me whom you are attempting to court into a long-term relationship, an even “bester deal!” This offending card (which I’m also enclosing) allows JUST ANYONE, not just a loyal subscriber like me, the “best deal” of “3 years for $32.00.” Assuming that this means 36 issues (and that assumption is based upon a monthly magazine being delivered to my door monthly) are available to JUST ANYONE for a mere $.88 per copy.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND MY INDIGNATION? Me, a loyal subscriber, offered your “best deal” at $.96 per issue while JUST ANYONE can get your mag for $.88. Where is the outcry over the abuse of the word “best?” Where is the injustice over JUST ANYONE getting a “bester” deal than me, a loyal subscriber?
And while I’ve got your attention, why is Texas Monthly being developed by someone in Florida? Does this not constitute outsourcing at its’ rawest? I mean, come on, we’re Texans, a fiercely independent people and someone in Florida is working “audience development” for our state’s flagship magazine? This should be a call-to-arms to any right-thinking Texan. Why has Texas Monthly not covered this with a scathing article about the fleeing of jobs from our state to Florida?
Please read this letter in the spirit in which it really is intended, a tongue-in-cheek attempt to poke fun at your marketing plan. You really need to write that your offer in the letter is “our best deal for the mathematically challenged.” I’m not really incensed, just amused, at what’s happening. And by-the-way, I won’t renew today, I’m going to wait for your “bestest” deal when I probably can order your ‘zine for $.79.
(In)sincerely,

Now that I have this off my chest I probably could get back to sleep. However, it's now the normal time for me to arise and have my quiet time. Oh well.

Oh, do you think Rebecca or any of her minons will respond? Only time will tell.