51 Steps to Dealing with Other People's Baggage (part two)

It occurred to me yesterday [particularly through the gentle text reminder of a friend who is a faithful Chronic Deconstruction reader] that yesterday's post might have been a little, dare I say... whiny?

Carrying luggage up so many flights of stairs is really not that bad. The reality is that with a family my size, carrying everybody's stuff is a regular, daily ordeal; I'm the perfect man for the job. And the exercise? Well, let's face it, we could all use a little more of that, so essentially I am killing two birds with one stone. Besides, it is for the kids, and kids are extra special to me. In further reality, I am incredibly thankful to even be able to climb stairs, much less haul luggage in the process. But, the real issue is the issue of the heart, and my complaining reminded me of a story I have often told students in years past when they have complained over their service to others or mere inconveniences.

It is the story of a man who was born to a poor family in rough times. He was a good kid. He was obedient to his parents, grew up seeking and doing the will of God but was later picked on, teased, beat up, ridiculed, mocked and called hateful names. Most of the people around him had no concern for his heart or motives and yet he didn't let it sway him in his goals; he kept doing his thing. He never followed the crowd, and always had time for children. Still he was unaccepted and eventually he was killed... on a cross... to pay for the sin I have committed.

When I would tell the story verbally, I would often tell it dramatically in order to make the point that there is nothing of difficulty or misery that compares to the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

I have no idea how many steps Jesus took to move from his sentencing to the place where he was crucified. I have no clue how heavy the weight of the cross was he carried for his own execution. I cannot comprehend the weight of our transgressions and the wrath of God that pressed upon him as he took each of those steps. What I know is this, he did so. He did so faithfully. He did so willingly. He did so obediently. He did so painfully. He did so lovingly. Everything he did was a selfless act in order to draw us to himself and provide access to the father.

I was reminded of this as I was reading Philippians 2. It is all about being like Christ in everything we do. It is about not doing anything from selfish conceit, but humility of mind. It says not to look out for our own self interest, but also the interest of others. It reminds us that Jesus emptied himself and took on the form of a bond servant, and for us to do everything without grumbling... oops.

Well, no more of that from this guy. In fact, I reminded our guys about what it means to be different and challenged them to extend themselves in service to others through a challenge. About half of them took the challenge and have been striving to serve others above themselves.

Yesterday was a good day, and I am excited to see what God has in store for our group today.

The Flying Squirells

Yes, I know that is spelled wrong. That is the spelling that is currently scribbled into the dust on the back window of my van, along with "Chuck Norris on board". The Flying Squirrels is the self given name of the group of guys riding in my Van to Jackson, MS for Centri-kid today. I'm not exactly sure why that has become our name. There is a baseball team, a band, and even a pizza company in Seattle who bear the name; now, apparently, so do we.

Our ride was everything you would expect from a van of 4th, 5th, & 6th grade boys... complete with all the noises and smells. Right away I realized I needed ear plugs because they all like to talk at the same time, and in that game, the loudest one wins.

I heard more tough Chuck Norris jokes than I have heard in a long time [hence the Chuck Norris on board thing], and at one point our van was like attending a "STOMP" show with everyone attempting to bring rhythm from various objects. The cast of STOMP need not be worried.

When we finally arrived, we discovered the wonderful pleasure of climbing several flights of stairs to our rooms... 51 steps to be exact. I counted after having made several trips with other people's luggage. It is then that I realized a terrible flaw in the kids going to camp scenario.

Moms and/or Dads pack the suit cases.

Moms and/or Dads load them into the car.

Moms and/or Dads (or perhaps someone else helping) unload them at the church and toss them into the trailer.

BUT, when we get to camp and get to camp with 51 steps to climb, guess who can't lift their own bags up the stairs? Then, guess who gets to aid in the luggage transfer up those stairs? Todd and/or Steve. I am certain I will lose weight I need to keep this week just on the stairs alone.

At the time of this writing, all seems well. Our guys are in their rooms and, except for the occasional renegade wanting to play ding-dong ditch, all is quiet. I generally hate the first night of camp because it always takes the second day for everyone to be tired enough to WANT to settle down and go to sleep.

As for my own son... he is doing well; this is his kind of thing. He has taken in each encounter so far and really seems to be having a good time. I am looking forward to seeing how the rest of the week goes.

Oh... THAT Parent

Ok... I have now lived long enough into adulthood and in the realm of parenting to realize there are times when I don’t just eat, but feast with all the fix-ins upon my own words. I’m discovering that choking them down is actually more embarrassing than bitter most of the time... I imagine the bitterness is removed through the sweetness of experience and, believe it or not, maturity.

I am in the midst of just such a feast - welcome to kids camp cafe.

I cannot begin to count how many times in my ministry I have tried to convince apprehensive parents that their child will be fine their first trip to camp. I have pleaded many cases and made as many different arguments before individual parents to convince, shall we say, extra protective parents that little “Joey” will be fine and should be allowed to go.

I have become “that” parent now - my kid can’t go.

My oldest is now technically eligible to participate in the week long children’s camp that our church attends each year. I say “technically” because he has completed third grade [the grade level at which this camp begins], but because he is a year ahead, grade-to-age, he is younger than his class peers. For this reason, we decided to wait another year before thinking of letting him go. He might not be mature enough is what we decided... unless one of us were attending as well.

Enter “that” parent issue number two - he could go if one of us were going.

Now I have become "that" parent who’s child only goes if one of us go along. The difference with me is that it has not been a conditional factor that I have leveraged over our student minister, just a factor in our decision process. There have been times in my years when I have had to seriously weigh the value of a student getting to go against the value of a particular parent NOT going - it is a tough call sometimes. I’m sure parents from over the years and trips past would say they weren’t leveraging anything over me either. Right.

As it turns out there is desperate need for another male sponsor to go on the upcoming trip to camp with our children. Guess what? It now seems that I am the only one able and willing to go along on the trip.

Enter “that” parent issue number three - now he can go.

Since I am now going, we are going to send him along; but, if he had shown no interest we would not have pushed it. After asking him if he wanted to go he said “sure, sounds fun”.

I brought the information about camp home the other day so we can both be prepared for the week... he has read over the sheet 10 or 20 times and proceeded to inform me of all that he will be doing [as if I am clueless to what his camp will be like]. It makes me laugh a little every time he brings it up. He is so excited.

I think he has memorized the typical daily schedule, and I know he knows what is offered at the camp store and the cost of each item. He has planned what track times he will choose and asked about other details not included in the information. He had Mommy fill out his forms immediately and has reminded me multiple times of the importance of filling out my paperwork and keeps asking me if I’ve done so. At the time of this post, the answer is still “no”, but it is on today's list. Each day since we told him, he has counted down the remaining days and told us he wishes we were leaving on that day - he can’t wait until Monday.

Though I wasn’t really looking forward to the thought of having to go, I am excited to be there for my son’s first camp experience. I’m certain this is the first of many trips together and also a first for me in a different role on the trip.

Now, I am a group sponsor.

Now, I am a sponsor/parent.

Now, I am “that” parent... and that’s ok with me.

I hope the next few posts will be committed to some of our experiences while we are gone. I am truly looking forward to the trip with our group and expect great things.

Preacher Friendly

“You can’t have friends in ministry” is what a former pastor of mine once told me. He was adamant on this point and though I still do not completely agree, I understand what he meant.

The people we serve and serve alongside are also the people with whom we strive to build relationships. Unfortunately, [and unexplainably since we are the body of Christ] the local church dynamic seems to sometimes get in the way. Can you really be friends with the preacher? Do you really want to be friends with the preacher? Some do, some don’t, and some are bipolar about it. It is the way of ministry.

I am thankful that although the aforementioned philosophy may be truer than I want, God has granted me with those I can truly call friends through the course of ministry. I have some, not many, with whom I am comfortable to be vulnerable. That feeling is a tremendous thing for a minister. After all, who ministers to the minister? Who preaches to the preacher? It must be those in whom trust and reliance is found.

I love the friends that look me in the eye and call me out on my stupidity. I love the friends who discipline my children as their own and me theirs without fear of misunderstanding - I love those friends.

I love the friends who talk with frailty and welcome advice, who listen intently and respond with love and concern - I love those friends.

I love the friends who share a meal and laughter follows, who aren’t afraid to laugh at themselves. I love the friends who feel right at home in my refrigerator and aren’t afraid to take the last coke or piece of cake - I love those friends.

I love the friends who can lie around and watch a show and don’t feel like an explanation is needed for the dishes in the sink. I love the friends who stretch out in the floor, grab a pillow off the sofa and feel comfortable taking a nap if needed - I love those friends.

I love the friends that hug my neck and say they love me and neither of us thinks it’s weird. They make jokes, they make fun, they make faces, and all of it becomes a lifetime of memories together - I love those friends.

I have been thinking deeply about my appreciation of friends developed over years of experiences and journeys. Those relationships are relationships that have been tested, tried and proven along paths of imperfection. Growth comes through love, accountability, and forgiveness. As time marches on and miles separate people, strong bonds remain and new ones develop.

I hope we all have friends that no matter how far away they move or how much time passes, to come together is like the moments of our closest yesterday with them – I love those friends.

I’m Glad My Neighbors Love Theirs

I like my neighbors. I really do. Not everyone can say that about their neighbors, but mine are great. The way our houses sit, the doors we each use most frequently open to each other. Very few days go by that we do not see each other in passing either coming or going. In my case, I have even come close to hitting my neighbor with the car as he walks his dog in the morning if I happen to be in too much of a hurry. He smiles and waves and has learned to stop several yards back from the driveway [I have also learned to creep backwards much more slowly].

They are the kind of neighbors anyone would wish to have. The kind that throws your paper up near the steps sometimes or collects the kid's toys that get left by the street, they also look after the house when we’re gone to make sure it is safe. I imagine if they wake up in the night, they look out in the yard and survey the area for anything out of the ordinary [that’s what I do when I am up late or wake up unexpectedly]. My neighbors make conversation in the driveway and tell us about their grandkids. They tell me about things going on in their lives, trips they take to the lake, or visits to the doctor. In the summertime we usually get tomatoes from the plants they grow and while we are gone they feed our dog faithfully and let her run around with theirs for exercise [I haven’t asked, but I think they even got her another flea collar in our absence – that was kind and thoughtful].

As great as my neighbors are in all those things, what I like most about them is how kind they are to my children. My children are terrific, mind you, but even terrific children have their moments. My children have chased my neighbors' cats. They’ve ridden their bikes too close for comfort near the cars. They’ve run through the yard screaming many times. They have picked flowers that weren’t meant to be picked from the planting pots. I have found them standing in the bed of my neighbor’s truck without permission. They have left their bikes lying on the sidewalk in front of the house. They have knocked on the door just to ask random questions and have picked [too early] as many tomatoes as have been given to us. And, that dog that gets walked regularly, they have run him down across two yards and a field to try and pet him from time to time. My neighbors are very patient with their neighbor's kids, for that I am thankful.

The other day I came home for lunch to find my neighbor in our back yard with my kids – all my kids. She was hot and sweaty, they were dirty and excited, and they were all working together to plant a row of tomato plants in our yard. She had gone to the local nursery and bought several varieties of tomato plants and enlisted my kids to help dig, plant, and water these plants. My kids were so excited. They worked for hours [rather, she worked for hours] getting those plants situated for growth. She took the time to tell them about each plant and the process for planting. She let them dig in the holes, and fill the dirt in to secure the plants. She told them not to pick the fruit until it was ripe and left them with an afternoon full of fun and memories that we will all have of that day.

When I was their age, all I can remember about the lady that lived next door to me is that she was grumpy, mean, never smiled, didn’t want people taking short cuts through her yard and threatened to call juvenile court when we adventurously dug a hole under her fence from our backyard. The only time she came close to being nice was when her granddaughter came to visit [she and I were playmates on those days] and she would give me a Push-up orange sherbet with her granddaughter – I am convinced she really didn’t want me to have one, though.

As mentioned in my first paragraph, my current neighbors are great, and I am thankful that in a world that so easily dismisses children as being in the way and more of a nuisance, she took the time and patience to look after mine and help them learn something new… and, perhaps they won’t early harvest any more of her tomatoes in the future.

May God Save the Children

The other day my children were sitting around the living room together when my 6 year old (Griffin) began to ask about baptism and being a Christian. I had the thrill of watching my 8 year old (Cayson) walk through a tract he cherishes explaining God’s love, our separation, the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ. He discussed personal repentance and commitment followed by reading the supporting scriptures to Griffin. My oldest was doing the work of an evangelist with his brother.

We are unapologetically, narrow mindedly, and unashamedly a Christian home. I struggle with the challenge of helping my children understand they are not “born” Christians because in our house what mom and dad believe and most importantly, demonstrate, are adopted and learned by them from day one – they know nothing other than what they live (but of course, that is true in any home whether godly or not).

As a result, my children understand that God loves them because we teach them that He does. They know that Jesus is God’s son. My children know that Jesus was born in a manger, did not sin, died on the cross, and rose from the grave. Without question they say prayers of thanksgiving for blessings and concerns for others each night at bedtime. They understand the importance of the words “I’m sorry” and “will you forgive me”. They know that actions, though forgiven, still have consequences. We teach them there are appropriate ways to treat others and what it means to respect authority. We teach them to guard their eyes and behavior and regulate what they watch on TV or games that they play. We spend time explaining that not everyone believes or lives like we do and there is great importance in helping people hear truth and see it lived out practically.

We are always in the process of leading them to Jesus through deliberate and practical efforts in our child rearing. As Christian families, we are at war with culture and the battle not only includes severe finality through life but is an ongoing fight to secure victory. Families must make preemptive and counter strikes on the battlefield of our children in our culture through their families and in their families. It is critical. It is effective. It is biblical.

I have one son who is clearly a follower of Christ in the regeneration sense. He will tell you he knows exactly when he came to terms with his faith and when He asked God to save him through his faith in Jesus. It doesn’t matter if we sat down at the table for our own assurance to discuss it or baptized him several months later, he KNOWS he was in his bed alone one night when he prayed for salvation. How am I to argue against the genuine faith of a child? That day… the dynamics of my role in his life changed from leading him to that realization to discipling his growth from there.

I do not know when (or truth is, if) my other children will become regenerated believers, but I do know that they have as strong of a platform for that faith as any child could have and my responsibility as there father to guide them will never be removed. I also know that they not only have the example of their parents to look toward, but the love of an older brother who is willing and ready to help them understand.

May God save my children and lead them in the way everlasting.

Missional Discoveries

From the moment I first stepped into the room where I would be leading missionaries in worship to the moment we left and headed home from Ukraine, I committed to embrace and own each moment for its particular worth and experience. I am so thankful to have had the privilege to be a part of such a team and had a hand in such a ministry.

My greatest personal question at the moment is "What do I do with my experience from here?” So many things are swirling through my head and I do not know where to start.

Before going to Ukraine, I had this burning question in my mind about whether God would use this trip to introduce the call to international missions to my life and the lives of my family. I have not had an underlying hunch or notion that this would be the case nor have I been contemplating or wrestling with this as a possibility. I haven’t been sitting and praying for some answer in this regard that I was hoping to discover. I just had the thought “What if suddenly I am blindsided with a new calling in my life?”

It is not a question or quest that bothered me in any way; I am just quite familiar with stories of those who have been called as a result of going in the first place. I even mentioned it to a good friend [who is in fact a missionary] who just smiled in understanding and said "well, you wouldn’t be the first that’s happened to and you wouldn’t be the last either should that be the case”.

I have not been afraid of that possibility in any way, just curious about it. I like to think that I am a willing heart and open to whatever God has for me to do. I do not include myself in the group that immediately excludes themselves of the possibility of service on levels that seem impossible or selfish (I know that is a bit of a strike at some, but if you find offense, perhaps there is need for personal examination and repentance).

I am thankful for the hearts that are not hardened as such. I met a couple while abroad that was not called to missions until later in life… he was 70 when called - quite compelling, if you ask me. My point is, having a truly willing heart is an important thing whether one is called to the mission field or not.

I am certain that being called into the permanent international mission field has not been the purpose of this trip as it pertains to my life. In fact, had I come with that notion and such a bias as the driving force and looked for answers to that question, all of the indications and affirmations point the other way. I have experienced more affirmation of my role and usefulness in the states than in the international mission field as a career missionary.

That being the case, I now ask “what, then, from here?” I am but one among many from eons of Christianity who has taken the time to be involved on a short term level of service. I currently know and have discovered some things about myself personally and would like to share a few:

(1) I know that I could do this again. I could easily go back and could even stay longer. I have the desire to either return to Ukraine or work somewhere else in an international effort. God has wired me in such a way that I roll with the punches easily and am quite adaptable. Mission work such as that of which we were a part is something that has not frustrated me in the least. I would like the opportunity to travel further down this path.

(2) I want to be stretched. This trip was much easier on me physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally than I thought before going. As I walked through unfamiliar streets, rode down bumpy roads, experienced an unfamiliar culture, strived to weave through language barriers, and endured slight inconveniences, I kept wondering how far down this road could I travel. I want to experience more. I want to test my endurance in this. I want to work in a more difficult environment and I want to see to what extent God has wired me for this and explore the impact.

(3) I think God has designed me for people in need of healing. It occurred to me through this effort that there seems to be a theme in my life and the encounters I've had through my ministry - healing. In every church I have served, I have been placed in an environment of injury or sabotage, restoration and recovery. God has used me to establish lost confidence formed by fallen or outright sinful ministers. God has used me with others to help build further trust and dependence upon Him. God has used me to restore faith in the story of the prodigal and God has made successes out of failure through forgiving spirits and reconciled hearts.

My own medical history stands as a testimony of faithfulness, both of God as sovereign and myself as his servant. God used me once again as an encouragement to others as I brought my own life testimony to the missionary table at the conference this week both with missionaries I just met and members of our own team.

Again, I think healing is the theme of my life in so many ways. Perhaps I should explore this further and consider ways in which God may want me to blossom in this area of ministry [however, don’t expect a hand to the forehead and being knocked down on a stage to demonstrate – that’s not how I roll].

(4) I have so much to learn. I am roughly halfway through my expected lifespan and there is so much left to learn. I do not know near the amount of Bible I wish I knew, but I am the only one to remedy that. I spent four days preaching to missionaries who each have the ability to read and study as much or far more than I ever have. I walked into that room extremely afraid and intimidated by my surroundings. Interestingly, the one man I found most intimidating to me was the one with whom I enjoyed the most discussion about the word and found tremendous encouragement. Funny how that happened; I don't get it.

Much of what I don't know is because I have not taken the time to deliberately learn... that needs to change. I may not be able to be like who I want to be, but I can certainly be better than who I am.

(5) I receive great personal satisfaction from investing in others. There is no elaboration to this point; it is simply a reality of who I am and what God created me to be.