The first is the father of Eleanor. Easily the biggest fan of Israeli women's softball, with her wispy blonde curls fighting the wind underneath her white, over-size, backwards baseball cap, she quickly charmed everyone at the field into being "her friend." Anything but shy, she humorously informed me that "mosquito came to town" on my kneecap. She then educated me on the Hebrew name of the Israeli version of a ladybug, which happened to be her favorite. We sat in the stands, lemonade pops dripping stickily down arms and onto the bleachers, and I taught her how to cheer the team on; at least until it was time to wash the sugary sweet lemon juice off her arms. I leapt at the opportunity because Eleanor made you smile with her contagious and addictive four-year-old personality.
What does this have to do with Eleanor's father? Everything. You see, Eleanor's father brought her to a softball game a while back, and with her incredible personality, she won hearts and invitations from the players to return and watch some more games. Her father brought her back. He sat patiently while she bounded around the park, all the while keeping an eye on her. He bought her ice cream, after teaching her the patience to wait past 10 am to have it. He played catch with her when she grew tired of sitting on the uncomfortable wooden bleachers. And he taught her manners and to be polite as she made new friends all around the softball park. He gave her hugs and kisses and smiled proudly at her winning charm and personality.
The second father is an unknown name and a face of a little girl on an airplane with her mother and siblings. I don't know her name so we'll call her Anna. Anna pranced around the front of the airplane as if it were her center stage. She smiled and curtsied in her thick winter coat and denim ruffled skirt. My friend James was sitting indian-style next to me in the front section where Anna pranced around while we played cards. Anna charmed her way into our hearts as well, tip-toeing into the middle of our circle and placing a solid hand of solace on James' shoulder as though she were 30 years his elder. Then, she popped him in the nose with her tiny fist, much to our enjoyment and laughter! For several minutes she slipped in and out of our line of vision, always smiling her sweet little two-year old smile in James' direction. "She misses her father," Anna's mother informed us. "It's been a month since she's seen him, and so she likes men better."
If this were a parable, put roughly, I think it would go something like this:
There were two fathers, one each with a daughter. The first father tended to his daughter with much affection and attention, and she grew up to love him and his way and she had many friends and much laughter. The second father loved his daughter but was separated from her for a time and was unable to raise her up in his way. She strayed from him and filled the void of her father with other things in this life which were not always good.
John 15:5
There is a very LARGE and DEMANDING call from fathers. I'm not one, so I can't say that I know very much about it, but I can say it is obvious to me how important that role is just by examining the lives of young children I work with and observe in various places.
I do know about the role of my Heavenly Father, however; and that should I be separated from Him for a time, I will stray and begin to fill His void with other things which are not satisfying and cannot ultimately take His place. Nonetheless, He loves me, and if I remain with Him, I will be fruitful.
Dads, it is your job to teach your daughters about their relationship with God. You are the earthly model of what that relationship should look like, and like it or not, you are the earthly model of what that relationship will look like. Feel like that's a lot in a man's hands? Whew, I feel for ya, brothers; you better start praying about that one if you haven't already!!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The parable of this counselor
I love what I do. I love to talk about it. I have passion in my heart for the children whose lives I work to change and I can tell you exactly why I began this work and why I continue to do it, despite the trials it brings in my own life and the struggles I watch others face.
Yet I find that in the midst of my work, I lose my fervor as I drive along, day to day, house to house. I grow weary of the evils I witness (like child abuse) and also fall victim to my own selfish desires (like getting off work at a decent hour). All of these things creep in and blind me of that passion. The briars grow up in my eyes and the thorns poke me til the tears come.
So occasionally I do my job half-heartedly and accomplish very little, minus a good release of wet emotion. But I guarantee you if someone comes along and asks me what I do for a living, I can answer them in no less than a 10 minute spill on what I do and why I do it and not with false earnesty.
And so I end up with beautiful, meaningful, moving words about my passion; and dead, impactless work.
What kind of soil does that make me?
Regrettably, I find my relationship with the Lord mirroring the path my career has taken. It's so easy sometimes to tell our testimony -- to recount the story of how we came to know Christ, and how we fell in love with Him in the beginning. Of course I know why I loved God in the first place! He rescued me from the sin I was in and gave me what no one else could!!
But can I, today, say that that same passion continues to burn inside me? Or am I a smoldering pile of coal and ashes that can't even light dry thorns and briars on fire?!
Rev 2:3-5 Warns us to turn back to that initial passion. To not forget how and why we loved Jesus in the beginning of our new lives with Him.
I love this verse and think of it often when I am struggling with my relationship with God because it brings me back to the first days when I knew Him, just after meeting Him.
I still remember my friend, Lalo, in Mexico giving a sermon in which he reminded us that if you do not continue to sufficiently feed yourself with God's Word, your fire will die out. We must tend to the coals to continue the flame.
*****
And still one of the most intriguing things I find here is that Jesus used the parable of the sower as an illustration the people could relate to very long ago.
Presently and for me, He used the illustration of my job to relate to my relationship with Him. Funny how He still teaches us in parables, don't you think?
What parables is Jesus using in your life to open up your eyes to His teaching? Remember that He speaks to us not only in His Word.
Yet I find that in the midst of my work, I lose my fervor as I drive along, day to day, house to house. I grow weary of the evils I witness (like child abuse) and also fall victim to my own selfish desires (like getting off work at a decent hour). All of these things creep in and blind me of that passion. The briars grow up in my eyes and the thorns poke me til the tears come.
So occasionally I do my job half-heartedly and accomplish very little, minus a good release of wet emotion. But I guarantee you if someone comes along and asks me what I do for a living, I can answer them in no less than a 10 minute spill on what I do and why I do it and not with false earnesty.
And so I end up with beautiful, meaningful, moving words about my passion; and dead, impactless work.
What kind of soil does that make me?
Regrettably, I find my relationship with the Lord mirroring the path my career has taken. It's so easy sometimes to tell our testimony -- to recount the story of how we came to know Christ, and how we fell in love with Him in the beginning. Of course I know why I loved God in the first place! He rescued me from the sin I was in and gave me what no one else could!!
But can I, today, say that that same passion continues to burn inside me? Or am I a smoldering pile of coal and ashes that can't even light dry thorns and briars on fire?!
Rev 2:3-5 Warns us to turn back to that initial passion. To not forget how and why we loved Jesus in the beginning of our new lives with Him.
I love this verse and think of it often when I am struggling with my relationship with God because it brings me back to the first days when I knew Him, just after meeting Him.
I still remember my friend, Lalo, in Mexico giving a sermon in which he reminded us that if you do not continue to sufficiently feed yourself with God's Word, your fire will die out. We must tend to the coals to continue the flame.
*****
And still one of the most intriguing things I find here is that Jesus used the parable of the sower as an illustration the people could relate to very long ago.
Presently and for me, He used the illustration of my job to relate to my relationship with Him. Funny how He still teaches us in parables, don't you think?
What parables is Jesus using in your life to open up your eyes to His teaching? Remember that He speaks to us not only in His Word.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Bound for the Holy Land!!
Friends, I am headed for Israel and I am PUMPED!! As the "cashier guy" I met at Wal-mart last weekend put it, "There is no place on this earth you can be that is closer to where Jesus was!"
I'm literally gonna follow in His footsteps! haha :-)
So really, we are going to be helping with the Maccabiah Jewish Olympic softball games. (Ah, I love softball.) According to my friend's blog, there may be some issues with where the games are being held due to not having appropriate licensure... you can read the article for yourself if you're interested.
What this says to me is that mean old devil doesn't like what's going on here! He may be trying to stop what God has planned. But I know Who's in charge and I'm encouraged at the thought of being a part of His mighty mighty plan for His chosen people.
You can be a part of this journey by being in prayer for my friends and I for safety in travel, clean hands and pure hearts, maintaining our health in the heat, and for open eyes to opportunities. I pray the Spirit fills us each until our cups run over. I pray that Morgan runs out quickly, so that God steps in and takes up that much more space.
I can't wait to get back and update you on the trip. God bless you and thank you for your fellowship in the Lord!
Jer 31:31
Isaiah 53:5
I'm literally gonna follow in His footsteps! haha :-)
So really, we are going to be helping with the Maccabiah Jewish Olympic softball games. (Ah, I love softball.) According to my friend's blog, there may be some issues with where the games are being held due to not having appropriate licensure... you can read the article for yourself if you're interested.
What this says to me is that mean old devil doesn't like what's going on here! He may be trying to stop what God has planned. But I know Who's in charge and I'm encouraged at the thought of being a part of His mighty mighty plan for His chosen people.
You can be a part of this journey by being in prayer for my friends and I for safety in travel, clean hands and pure hearts, maintaining our health in the heat, and for open eyes to opportunities. I pray the Spirit fills us each until our cups run over. I pray that Morgan runs out quickly, so that God steps in and takes up that much more space.
I can't wait to get back and update you on the trip. God bless you and thank you for your fellowship in the Lord!
Jer 31:31
Isaiah 53:5
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
He's not finished with me yet!
The car had been sitting in the pouring rain for almost 3 hours in stand-still traffic before finally breaking past the police officer who was blocking the left lane and slowing things down. It couldn't have been more than 5 or 10 minutes of steady driving before the accident happened. The car was moving along about 60 mph when the driver felt it begin to drift to the right. The driver tried to make a correction with the steering wheel, hesitated on hitting the brake, and then instinct took over. The tap on the brake sent the car further to the right; an adjustment in the opposite direction with the wheel made minimal difference, and with a second push on the brake pedal, the car swung the rest of the way to the right and the driver knew the vehicle was no longer under control. The driver was oriented enough to know the car had completed a 180 and was now sliding backwards and down into the ditch.
The sound of rock raking and cutting into glass drowned out the sound of the driver shouting, "Please, Lord Jesus; God protect me. Jesus, please."
Even that wasn't enough to drown out the thoughts.
Is this it? What is going to happen before the car stops?
The interior grew darker, signifying that the car had turned upside down, and it continued to slide a few more feet, rock scraping metal now, until coming to a stop.
Still here. Gotta get out of the car.
"Okay calm down; stay calm and think."
The driver's mind and mouth were in competition.
Gotta get out; how do people stay in here for hours?
"No, just get calm and think."
I need out of here.
"Lord, please just get me out of here. Please let me out of here!"
Recalling a previous wreck, the driver reached for the window button to roll it down.
Can get out the window. Ok.
Turn the car off.
"Stay calm."
Hearing that the car was still running, the driver reached out a finger and hit the keyless start button, then kicked of the remaining, dangling flip flop.
Seat belt.
Releasing the seat belt made the driver realize things were still upside down.
The first attempt out the driver side window was unsuccessful -- the bank was too close and too steep.
"Lord, please, don't let me stay in here. Just get me outta here."
Think. Cell phone. Other side.
The driver reached up, no, down; there was a gaping hole where the ash tray and cell phone had flung out. Then, crawling across the black and shattered sunroof to the other side, the driver envisioned a vehicle stopped in the middle of the intersection in front of her apartment complex. Not too many months ago, this had been the scene of an accident where the operator of the vehicle had to be cut out by emergency services because the door of their car had been pushed in by a side-on collision. Now the image pushed into the forefront of this driver's mind as she reached for the window button on the passenger side.... down, no, up.
Almost to freedom, she slid out and up the rocky, muddy slope on her stomach, rain hitting her face as she emerged from the cover of the upside down vehicle. Turning around, her back against the slippery, jagged slope, she sat down on a rock ledge and pushed up with her arms behind her, releasing her legs from the gaping window. In an effort to get far from the vehicle, she turned, climbed a foot or two and sat again.
Looking down through the rain from a few feet above the metal bottom of the car, heart racing, breathing out the deepest breath since the car first lost control, I put my elbows on my knees, my face in my hands and cried, "Thank you, Lord; Oh Lord, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
A young man's voice shouted, "Are you okay? Is anyone else in the vehicle?" I looked up already knowing two cars had pulled over just up the interstate; I patted my legs and said, "I'm fine. There's no one else, just me." They immediately began calling 911, and one of the ladies helped me climb down from the wet, rocky, embankment and across the ditch which was quickly filling ankle-deep with water from the downpour. The young man, in scrubs, looked at me eyes wide and repeated 2 or 3 more times in disbelief, "Are you sure you're okay?"
He walked me to his car and waited with me for the police to arrive. He was a doctor in his residency at Vanderbilt, and soon began asking me questions and assessing whether my answers were coherent.
It was a long time before I was able to make decent conversation with the doctor. I gave him only quick responses before checking the wreckage over my shoulder again and again through the passenger window of his upright SUV. I could only wonder how I just crawled out from that mess. Without a single scratch. Not a cut, not a bruise, no pain... Nothing. The answer to his question came the same each time... I'm fine...
My hands were unsteady and I wrung them til they were dry. My clothes were sopping wet and my hair clung to me, drenched from the rain. I wasn't cold but I shook to the bone. The sight of my car made my stomach turn, and my head began to ache. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, none of which I can remember, except that I wanted to throw up, and also that my parents were nearly a hundred miles away. And then, something that had been repeating in my mind over and over finally pushed it's way to the surface and took on its lyrical form like a thunderbolt jarring my mind to the reality of what actually just happened: God brought me out of the wreckage, unharmed, for a reason.
There is hope for me yet
Because God won't forget
all the plans He's made for me
I'll have to wait and see
He's not finished with me yet
The words to Brandon Heath's new song rang so clearly in my mind, I thought I must have been listening to it on the radio when I lost control of the car for it to keep repeating in my head the way that it was. (I later found out I was, in fact, listening to a rap station ;-) )
40 minutes passed before the police arrived, and the young doctor went on his way. 2 cops came and went, and the ambulance and fire department vehicles came, fulfilled their duties and left. The wrecker came, flipped the car; I unloaded my things, moved them to the remaining police car; and the wrecker was on his way with what was left of my car.
Both bumpers had been dragged off. The driver's side was cut deeply by the rocks, the back door pushed in. The roof and windshield from the top center of the car all the way across the driver side was spiderwebbed and mashed in. No airbags deployed; I had been protected only by my seatbelt, and the hands of my Father.
At the wreck site, I stood, nauseated, and stared for a long hour at the sharp-edged embankment covered by unearthed mud and the long grasses and sticks that were pulled in the direction of my car for a good ten yards at least. I could and can still hear the rock scraping the glass. Every detail, every thought you read (among others) plays out clearly in my mind. The most pressing of all: Is this it?
Well, that wasn't it. And knowing just a couple of days ago my breath of existence was questionable -- friend, I can't explain to you what it's like to live and breath and walk with the factual assurance that God kept me on earth for a reason. I'll be thankful if next time I can be assured by faith alone; and hopefully God won't have to flip me upside down to remind me each day that I'm still here means that my Kingdom work is not yet complete.
Phil 1:6
"...being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. "
Jer 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
The sound of rock raking and cutting into glass drowned out the sound of the driver shouting, "Please, Lord Jesus; God protect me. Jesus, please."
Even that wasn't enough to drown out the thoughts.
Is this it? What is going to happen before the car stops?
The interior grew darker, signifying that the car had turned upside down, and it continued to slide a few more feet, rock scraping metal now, until coming to a stop.
Still here. Gotta get out of the car.
"Okay calm down; stay calm and think."
The driver's mind and mouth were in competition.
Gotta get out; how do people stay in here for hours?
"No, just get calm and think."
I need out of here.
"Lord, please just get me out of here. Please let me out of here!"
Recalling a previous wreck, the driver reached for the window button to roll it down.
Can get out the window. Ok.
Turn the car off.
"Stay calm."
Hearing that the car was still running, the driver reached out a finger and hit the keyless start button, then kicked of the remaining, dangling flip flop.
Seat belt.
Releasing the seat belt made the driver realize things were still upside down.
The first attempt out the driver side window was unsuccessful -- the bank was too close and too steep.
"Lord, please, don't let me stay in here. Just get me outta here."
Think. Cell phone. Other side.
The driver reached up, no, down; there was a gaping hole where the ash tray and cell phone had flung out. Then, crawling across the black and shattered sunroof to the other side, the driver envisioned a vehicle stopped in the middle of the intersection in front of her apartment complex. Not too many months ago, this had been the scene of an accident where the operator of the vehicle had to be cut out by emergency services because the door of their car had been pushed in by a side-on collision. Now the image pushed into the forefront of this driver's mind as she reached for the window button on the passenger side.... down, no, up.
Almost to freedom, she slid out and up the rocky, muddy slope on her stomach, rain hitting her face as she emerged from the cover of the upside down vehicle. Turning around, her back against the slippery, jagged slope, she sat down on a rock ledge and pushed up with her arms behind her, releasing her legs from the gaping window. In an effort to get far from the vehicle, she turned, climbed a foot or two and sat again.
Looking down through the rain from a few feet above the metal bottom of the car, heart racing, breathing out the deepest breath since the car first lost control, I put my elbows on my knees, my face in my hands and cried, "Thank you, Lord; Oh Lord, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
A young man's voice shouted, "Are you okay? Is anyone else in the vehicle?" I looked up already knowing two cars had pulled over just up the interstate; I patted my legs and said, "I'm fine. There's no one else, just me." They immediately began calling 911, and one of the ladies helped me climb down from the wet, rocky, embankment and across the ditch which was quickly filling ankle-deep with water from the downpour. The young man, in scrubs, looked at me eyes wide and repeated 2 or 3 more times in disbelief, "Are you sure you're okay?"
He walked me to his car and waited with me for the police to arrive. He was a doctor in his residency at Vanderbilt, and soon began asking me questions and assessing whether my answers were coherent.
It was a long time before I was able to make decent conversation with the doctor. I gave him only quick responses before checking the wreckage over my shoulder again and again through the passenger window of his upright SUV. I could only wonder how I just crawled out from that mess. Without a single scratch. Not a cut, not a bruise, no pain... Nothing. The answer to his question came the same each time... I'm fine...
My hands were unsteady and I wrung them til they were dry. My clothes were sopping wet and my hair clung to me, drenched from the rain. I wasn't cold but I shook to the bone. The sight of my car made my stomach turn, and my head began to ache. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, none of which I can remember, except that I wanted to throw up, and also that my parents were nearly a hundred miles away. And then, something that had been repeating in my mind over and over finally pushed it's way to the surface and took on its lyrical form like a thunderbolt jarring my mind to the reality of what actually just happened: God brought me out of the wreckage, unharmed, for a reason.
There is hope for me yet
Because God won't forget
all the plans He's made for me
I'll have to wait and see
He's not finished with me yet
The words to Brandon Heath's new song rang so clearly in my mind, I thought I must have been listening to it on the radio when I lost control of the car for it to keep repeating in my head the way that it was. (I later found out I was, in fact, listening to a rap station ;-) )
40 minutes passed before the police arrived, and the young doctor went on his way. 2 cops came and went, and the ambulance and fire department vehicles came, fulfilled their duties and left. The wrecker came, flipped the car; I unloaded my things, moved them to the remaining police car; and the wrecker was on his way with what was left of my car.
Both bumpers had been dragged off. The driver's side was cut deeply by the rocks, the back door pushed in. The roof and windshield from the top center of the car all the way across the driver side was spiderwebbed and mashed in. No airbags deployed; I had been protected only by my seatbelt, and the hands of my Father.
At the wreck site, I stood, nauseated, and stared for a long hour at the sharp-edged embankment covered by unearthed mud and the long grasses and sticks that were pulled in the direction of my car for a good ten yards at least. I could and can still hear the rock scraping the glass. Every detail, every thought you read (among others) plays out clearly in my mind. The most pressing of all: Is this it?
Well, that wasn't it. And knowing just a couple of days ago my breath of existence was questionable -- friend, I can't explain to you what it's like to live and breath and walk with the factual assurance that God kept me on earth for a reason. I'll be thankful if next time I can be assured by faith alone; and hopefully God won't have to flip me upside down to remind me each day that I'm still here means that my Kingdom work is not yet complete.
Phil 1:6
"...being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. "
Jer 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
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