When Trust Fails

   This week anyone touched by Penn State ached.  My prayers go to the children and to many others who are hurt and even those who have inflicted pain.  God never fails, but often we do.
    I have to confess my first reaction to the scandal was first anger that anyone would hurt kids and then something hard to put my finger on.  It was a puzzlement that Penn State is held so high. It was a frustration that a school or a football team could be so important to some that feel almost idolotrous to me.  But, that's not where I ended.
    Reflecting on the reality and praying for those involved, brought me to a new place...a better place, I think.  I began to ponder all the things that I value and that I would grieve for if my trust in them were broken.  ( I wish I could say the list was short but it wasn't.)  I depend on many things from my car to people.  Some of those things, many really, have grown to hold too high a priority in my life for the lasting joy, results, or power that they can deliver.  Too high a place to match what I want to believe, what I say I believe.
    That point of growing, confession and reality admitted, there are all kinds of levels of trust.  Each one with a place in our lives.  Each one, when broken, brings a bit of grieving and sadness. Each one gives me the opportunity to see the gifts in that relationship and to see the things that I hold out of proportion, that I idolized, even if only a little bit.  Each one gives me the opportunity to Live Love more fully, making life adjustments as I go.
    So through the gifts of time and grace, my prayers and heart goes out to those grieving about Penn State, about losses, about the things that capture attention.  My prayer is that God would heal the hurts and hold more of your attention.  In that posture nothing can conquer us, only detour us a bit.
    What has your attention?  How may I pray for you?

Journey at Home

     I've shared many miles and places in my blog.  For my travels I've depended on my GPS to get me from place to place.  Today it's time for the more challenging journey.  Driving miles and exploring cities has challenges, but none so delicate and dangerous as that of our own heart...my own heart.
     My bible reading this morning was not encouraging me.  A little prophetic bluster from Isaiah, left me pondering my own brokenness; a little psalmatic (if that's a word) despair--not so cheery on it's face; and then the words of Jesus in Matthew 7.  Here I thought would be the upswing and instead I got caught in the underbrush of my heart.
     I don't know about you, but it's easy for me to be hard on myself...harder than I ever am on others.  So I read "Don't judge so that you won't be judged" and got tangled in my moments of discontent with others rather than the intent of the passage of a gracious balanced look at all (self included).
     I read "For everyone who asks, receives.  Whoever seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door is opened." and went to that ludicrous place of wondering why a wish-granting God wasn't doing that for me, when I know the passage is about the power of an honest, open, interactive relationship with the Holy, with Love, with Jesus, with God.
    I read "You will know them by their fruit" and I whinned to myself about not being fruitfull enough from a western, Type A personality, things productivity, kind of place, when I know the passage has more to do with character than with profits of people, dollars or things.
    Here's the big point.  I needed to make the journey.  It took me about 75 minutes this morning, to read, reflect, pray, grab a few commentaries on line, reflect, digest, pray, process and come out on the other side.  Now, no longer discouraged, rather strengthened from my morning devotional time.  Now, a little less wandering and a little more on a focused inward adventure.  And the
     The kicker is this.  Tomorrow I may need to do it all over again.   Perhaps in the same way, or maybe sitting quietly in prayer and reflection for the same time, or possibly singing songs or serving or something else.  I don't always know how it will unfold, but I know I need...I do better with...my adventure is safer, more productive, more satisfying when...to spend that time with God.  Each day is part of an adventure for which I need my GPS (Grow, Pray, Study  or, if you like, God Positioning System) of the scriptures, prayer, companions on the journey.
    The reward is this.  It works.
    What inward adventures of the Spirit have you had lately?

Snow Home

     It's good to be home after 3700+ miles from PA to OH to TX and back.  A wonderful adventure indeed, and yet family and familiar places bring a grounded, great feeling.  I was a little confused by the Oct 29 snow storm, but aside from a few extra snow tasks it was still all that makes home wonderful.  (That's my front and back yard, home in the snow!)
    I am reminded in my travels and return that I play a role in God's work and that I am not the whole of that work or the most important player.  PFUMC's services went on with passion and skill while I was gone. (Thanks David Walker, Band, choir, Tyler and so many other servants and faithful people.)  The neighbors hardly noticed I was absent. (I'd like to change that by connecting more.) My wife Penny, handled a new water heater, along with routine stuff, expertly and calmly without my presence. (Never a doubt, always mutual trust, and the love of my life!)
    Now indeed there were questions emailed and phoned my way.  Penny welcomed me home.  The neighbors greeted me with a friendly wave.  And there is much work awaiting my re-entry.  I have a place along with everyone else.  That's nice.  I like being part of something bigger and something that matters.  I like not being in charge of the world.
     Tomorrow I'm back to serving in the familiar ways, having served and been nourished on the road.  It's amazing to me how it all works together. I'm glad I'm a part of it all.
     Where do you fit into making the world a better place?  (Don't know, ask me questions and I'll gladly walk with you while you find your fit!)
   

923 Miles in One Day -- On A Mission

   923 focused, purposed, driving miles were accomplished with my car.   I was headed home at mile one, logged in the morning darkness, and at mile 923, accomplished in the starry night.  I was on a mission.  Quick pit stops with meals, fuel and rest crammed in keeping me on task and on time, moving toward the goal.  Like a dog with a bone, I was going home.
     When are you on a mission?  My reflection  these past two weeks of learning reminds me that I'm on a mission to Live Love with joy, welcome, passion, playfulness and abandon.  I truly believe that without God's love people haven't truly lived.  I  passionately believe that God's love isn't restrictive and religious, rather freeing and life-giving.  So I try to share it as I am inviting others to follow Jesus with me.
     A quick history to my passion.  As a kid my parents lived that kind of love with me and the world around.  When I was seven, and taken along with some young adults on a roller skating party, and was about to crash on my keister, one of those young adults saw me, and caught me before I ever hit the floor.  It was a slow motion event allowing me to notice my fear, thinking about my head cracking on the hardwood floor and feeling unseen hands of love care enough to save me from that pain.  That's my picture of God's love.
      I can tell you of many experiences of that kind of love:  a high school Christian rock band and the crew that lived life together as teens; a graduate school study group who helped each other through rough spots with determination and laughter; a mission team who sang happy birthday aboard a 747; and more.  Bottom line,  I have experienced great, playful, life-giving love.   It's happened in the context of what I know as the Church.  I want to share it.  I have to share it!
      A quick confession.  I have shared love consistently in my life, but I have not always asked if I was being strategic or effective on my Love mission.  I've too often been content to just go with the flow, failing to maximize opportunities and multiply moments to share the most love possible.  I want to change that.  So there's my bone.  Where's yours?

Everything's Important to God, Everything's Not Always Strategic in God's Kingdom

   "Everyone is important to God, everyone is not strategic."  -- Mike Slaughter.  That's my best recollection of a quote that's summarizing what I'm learning.  I might put it, "Everything is made by God and  equally important to God, however everything is not always equally strategic to God's Kingdom work right now."
    My passion is to share the love and joy I know in following Jesus.  I really can't imagine a meaningful life without that gift.  I want to share that passion with love and joy as well... gently, persistently, playfully.  It can make all the difference.
       Yesterday and today, learning with the Easum group, I'm reminded about priorities, accountability and how all that brings me back to the truth that everything is not equally strategic.  Not new, but hard when it means that tasks, visits, favorite programs and more may not receive my strategic attention even though they have value.
    My task, like my drive back to PA, is to choose a direction and stay focused.  What keeps you focused?  What gets you distracted?

Ordinary Paths, Extraordinary Gifts

    Steps are taken, everyday.  Sometimes on purpose.  Sometimes thoughtlessly.  Often with mixed mindfulness.  I've been moving a bit more intentionally this trip, looking forward and looking back.  There always seems to be a gift in the most unexpected places...when I look!
     Yesterday was basic from-here-to-there travel, starting in New Orleans and ending... I'm not sure where.  I know I drove atop ocean-side sea walls and paralleled beaches.  I noticed 2nd home communities on tip-toe atop 2 and 3 story stilts to avoid the dangers of rising waters.  My intended destinations got changed.  My mid day hunger changed the path.  And mosquitoes changed where I slept.  It was a good day.

     I'm writing from my Texas office with the Golden Arches and free WiFi after awaking to a misty sunrise in a Walmart parking lot.  It brought to mind an old hymn that says, "When morning gilds the sky, my heart awakening cries, let Jesus Christ be praised!"
     I got to the Walmart parking lot for a little car camping because when I stopped for the night at Galveston Island state park, the only other tenter there had to fire warning shots at the Texas mosquitoes that were trying to carry off my GMC Terrain. 
     Unarmed myself, no bug spray or itch control, and unable to sleep in the humid 80 degree night with the windows closed, I moved on.  First stop a drug store to stop the itch and prevent further invasion.  Then done I drove on, thankful for adventure, resources and the hope of a better land ahead.  God Provides!
      When I left New Orleans in the morning I drove on miles and miles (I lost count after 15 miles) of stilted roads built over marsh and water.  It's not always easy for me to trust.  I kept wondering if they checked every support after Katrina.   Trust can be an issue for me on any journey.  Trusting support of people and plans.  The road held! (Should I really be surprised?) Perhaps it was a lesson in trust.
          Then came the houses upon stilts, some as high as two story sticks before ever getting to living space!   After that, allowing a boat to hold a cargo of vehicles and carry them safely across new water.  Steps that  warned caution and so much more.    Coastal Texas is B I G !  Now my head knows that the Gulf and the Ocean are big, but driving along the water for hours drives home the point.  In all of this all is well, there are lessons to learn.  Onward.

Never Forget Second Chances

     Yesterday I was not impressed with New Orleans.  I jumped to judgement.  And this morning I was reminded of resurrection and second chances.
     I left the hostel and drove through the French Quarter to watch a tanker truck spraying the streets with soapy, water leaving the street fragrant with clean.  I saw a city worker pressure washing steps where spectators watched break dancers spin and wow the night before.  I followed a street sweeper past the French market and cruised past Bourbon street to see industrious shop keepers, delivery drivers and workers restoring, restocking and renewing for another day.  "Perhaps they know something of human hungers, brokenness and redemption," I thought. 
     Then I drove to the 9th ward where Hurricane Katrina devastated lives and property in 2005, only to find partial restoration, limping architecture, and scared landscape that rivaled developing nations.  Why is it that the poor are forgotten so easily?  Why is the 9th Ward not clean and the economics of Bourbon street bring 24 hour renewal?

    I ended my morning tour at the end of Canal St. in the picturesque and historic cemeteries of the city.  Then it hit me.  Never forget second chances.  I'm as broken and needy and unpredictable as the next human being.  My eyes see another's brokenness and so easily miss my own.  (Or see the speck in my friends eye and miss the log in my own.)  The things that are unattractive to me may be another's treasure.  My brokenness always looks better to me than my neighbor's brokenness.
    The morning reminded me once again to Live Love with second chances, redemption, newness, and plain-old kindness.  Where do you need to offer a second chance?