Its Christmas Day night. After a whirlwind couple of days, its nice to finally sit down with nothing ahead of me to do, or some place to be. Christmas Eve saw us frantically cooking, wrapping the last of the presents, and cleaning up to attend our church's Christmas Eve celebration. This was at 4pm, and by 5:15 we were heading home for dinner. Some friends came over, and by 10:30pm we were on our way to Grayson UMC for their annual midnight candlelight service, something we've been attending for about 6 years. I think I finally got in bed about 2pm, after some Christmas "final preparations."
Today was even busier. We got up early and did our family Christmas morning together. After presents, we loaded up and drove to my parent's place on Lake Oconee. We enjoyed exchanging gifts with them, and a big Christmas lunch my mom had fixed. By 3pm we were on the road again, driving to Peachtree City for gifts and dinner with Lisa's side of the family. They are always so much fun to spend the day with. Needless to say, I was stuffed and exhausted as we finally pulled back into our own home about 10pm. We had spent nearly 6 hours on the road between destinations, and ate way too much in one day.
As I sit here tonight, the Christmas tree lights still on, the gifts all unwrapped, the leftovers in the refridge, I'm reflecting on the past 2 days. Its been beyond busy- its been downright hectic! But I wouldn't trade the time spent with people I love for anything. My wife & girls, my side of the family, Lisa's family, our church family & friends- these contribute to the warmth of the season for me. And every year the story of the Incarnation, the birth of our Savior, God coming to us by becoming one of us, is made fresh in my imagination and in my heart all over again. It never gets old with me. There is always something new to see and understand, something new to experience, in the Christmas story. Amidst all the noise, lights, crowds, etc., He can still be found, by those willing to search like the shepherds and wise men of old.
I just watched the music video of Faith Hill's "A Baby Changes Everything." What a beautiful song about the birth of the Savior! He did change everything- in the course of human events, in man's access and relationship to God, and in own life as well. The world will never be the same, whether people like it or not. And I certainly will be never be the same either.
That's Christmas.

I'm sitting here watching our Christmas tree, still lit up before I unplug everything and go to bed. As I look it all over, I see ornaments that bring back memories, ornaments that recall stories for me. I see many old, hand-made ones from when the girls were small, in grade school and even preschool. How some of these have survived over the years is amazing to me. I see ones given to us by old friends, others given to us by friends from previous churches served, that we have lost contact with. I see a silver bell bearing the date, "Noel 1987"- our first Christmas together. I see another one given me by a friend after 9-11-01, commemorating that date in brass. We have a couple that were hand-painted and hand-carved by one of Lisa's relatives, and another that is made of gold, and shaped by a craftsman in Israel. Two of my favorites are ones with the girl's pictures in them, when Ansley was 8 and Kelsey was 6, that were made at New Orleans Seminary when I went down to graduate in 1998. And like on every parents' tree, there are the customary plaster-of-Paris, hand-painted angels they did so many years ago as well.

I've been to people's houses who have these perfect, color-coordinated, professional, cultured, sophisticated Christmas trees- you know the kind I'm talking about. Those are truly beautiful, works of art to be admired in perfectly decorated homes. I'm not knocking those who craft their trees with precision to perfection. But I much prefer our Christmas tree- it may not be the prettiest by some standards, but nearly each decoration tells a story, and each strand is hung as a family. In a literal sense, this is my "family tree", chronicling the years of our marriage and our children.

And every year, I hope we'll still find a way to hang a new memory on one of its branches.

Today in our Children's Church hours we studied the familiar passage in Mark 2, when 4 guys busted a hole in the roof of a house to lower a paralyzed friend down for Jesus to heal. Its a great story from the Gospels, in so many ways- How Jesus forgave his sin first, how the religious leaders present thought that was blasphemy, then Jesus also healed the man physically, and he walked out in front of God and everybody. Dramatic account, no doubt.
The part I was struck with though, was the determination of those 4 guys. They were willing to do whatever was necessary to put their crippled friend in front of Jesus, and see what might happen. As I prepared earlier in the week, I noted several things. First, these guys are never named. We have no idea who they were. We do know this, however- they believed Jesus was indeed who He said He was. Second, we don't know how the paralyzed guy came to be that way. Either he was born that way, or in some tragic accident he lost the use of his legs or worse. One thing is certain- he could not possibly get himself to Jesus. I think it might have been an accident, because these guys were so determined to see him healed. Had he been born that way, I don't know, folks might have just accepted it as his fate. Just speculating...
Anyway, whatever the cause, these 4 guys knew Who held the cure. I imagine them carrying their disabled friend down the dusty streets, to the house Jesus was teaching in, only to find the place jam-packed with people; filling the house, the windows, the doors, the yard, all trying to see and hear. Most folks would have decided to wait, many would have just given up and carried him back home, but not these guys. Their desperation led to innovation. They climbed up on the flat roof, pulled their bedsheet-bound friend up, then proceeded to smash a gaping hole through roof.
Imagine being in the room while Jesus is teaching. Suddenly, everyone hears loud thumping sounds coming from above, then some dust starts falling, and in minutes, the whole roof caves in! People are screaming, diving out of the way of the falling debris, coughing on the heavy cloud of dust... and as the dust settles, there is Jesus standing over a paralyzed man who had been lowered through the roof. And the rest is history.
A third grader asked me between one of the hours, "What did they do about the hole in the roof?" Great question! Somebody would have to pay for it, somebody would have to rebuild it. I imagine these 4 guys were more than willing, given the fantastic result in their friend's life. They saw an opportunity to bring their friend to Jesus, and they threw caution to the wind in the effort. They got all they came for, and more- their once-crippled friend was not only physically healed, he was made whole in the inside, more importantly.
Then I wonder, how many of us have that kind of determination and even desperation to bring our friends to a place where they can experience Jesus? So often, I don't. I tend to think of too many reasons it won't work, or they won't want to, or the timing won't be right, etc. Bottom line, I can come up with too many excuses. Sometimes, all we need to do is simply share the love of Christ in some tangible way with people, that opens up opportunities to verbally share Him. Other times we can bring our friends, like the 4 friends in Mark 2, to where Jesus is (His Church), so they have opportunity to experience Him. Whatever the occasion, I want to have more of the guts and creativity those 4 guys had. I want to be someone who has a "whatever it takes" attitude about bringing people to Jesus. In light of all eternity, that's all that will really matter- who we brought with us along the way.
If I could write my own epitaph, I would want it to say, "He followed Christ, and brought others along." I think that's the legacy of those 4 anonymous friends, and I hope one day it will be said of me as well.

In preparation for this Sunday's Bible lesson in RockiTown, I was reading in 2 Kings 7. This obscure, little known account is full of tremendous Biblical truth. To really get the whole picture of what is happening, one must look back at ch. 6:24-33. The Syrian king waged war against the Hebrews, and laid siege to the fortified city of Samaria. Siege was a military tactic whereby an army would completely surround a city, cutting off all escape and reinforcement, while constantly attacking its walls and gates. Sometimes, a siege could last for months, even years. If the army couldn't overcome the city's defenses, they would starve them out. This was the case with the siege of Samaria.

The famine in the city became so desperate, people were eating anything they could (donkey heads, bird dung, etc.), even resorting to cannibalism. In a dramatic confrontation with a woman who had done this, the Hebrew king tore his clothes in rage and grief, and sent word to have Elisha, God's prophet, beheaded, believing somehow he was responsible for the judgment of God upon the city.

In ch. 7, Elisha predicted the end of the siege and famine, the following day! As was often the case, there were lepers outside the city gates, not allowed within the city due to their illness, and starving also. They finally decided to act, reasoning, "Hey, if we stay here, we'll die. If we try to get back inside, we'll die. Let's go over to the Syrians, and see if they will have pity and feed us. The worst they can do is kill us as well, so what do we have to lose?" Unknown to everyone, God had caused a sound of a mighty army coming upon them to terrify the Syrians, and they fled during the night in a panic, leaving everything behind- tents, clothes, money, weapons, horses, and especially vast amounts of food. As the 4 lepers entered the camp, they were astonished to find the whole siege camp abandoned. They began to gorge themselves on food, cover themselves with clothes, even took and hid some of the wealth. It was a "bonanza."

Then they came to a realization- "We are not doing right. This day is a day of good news, but we are keeping silent...let's go tell the king's household." They returned to the city gates, still unable to get in, so they shouted to the gatekeepers all they had found. And the the rest, as they say, is history.

As I've been thinking on this whole incident, I see one profound truth: making an amazing discovery that would save lives, and then keeping it from them, is among the worst of sins. Even though these guys had been ostracized and driven away by their own people, they had enough compassion for those dying within the gates to go share the incredible find. And yet, we as Christ followers possess the most amazing, beautiful, life-changing news in the history of the universe- "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." People can be set free from the siege of sin, death, and condemnation, through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, and yet we all too often keep it to ourselves. We distance ourselves from those who need to hear the Good News, are afraid to tell them, or sadly, we just don't care enough. Even though the world outside our churches is becoming increasingly hostile to our faith, and wants to push us "outside the gate", we need a God-inspired burden and passion to share the message of Christ with them anyway. Many will hear and reject, but many will hear and heed. Like the lepers in the account, we are all mere ragamuffins who have found the abundance of life in Christ, and are pointing other ragamuffins where they can "find bread."

"How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news of good things!" Romans 10:15, Isaiah 52:7

I read an amazing article in the latest edition of "HomeLife" magazine, of all places. Entitled "In the Flesh" by Scottish writer Christian George, it addresses the astonishing truth of God in human form, Jesus Christ, in a new and refreshing way. The article had my attention from the opening lines-

"Let's get right down to business. Jesus took off His clothes. From the beginning of time, He planned to trade heavenly silk for soiled humanity...What a thought! That God would feel the fever of an infection and the throb of a headache... God stripped Himself that we might be clothed."

I don't think we fully appreciate the stupendous declaration found in John 1:14- "The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us." We miss the utter vulgarity & seeming absurdity of deity setting aside glory and trading it all for dirty humanity. As George further explains, "Jesus knew pain firsthand. He was not an airbrushed model who never knew a wart or wrinkle. No, God became real blood and real bone."

Last Sunday night, Kevin Miller explored this further in his sermon. Addressing the heights and depths of deity putting on humanity, he began by pointing out where Jesus came from. Reading from Isaiah 6:1-4, he "pulled back the veil" so to speak, revealing the incomprehensible glory and majesty Jesus came to us from. A massive throne, the Lord seated on it, His robe filling the temple, with 6-winged creatures flying about Him, shouting His praise, His glory like smoke filling the chamber, and His voice shaking the foundations. It reminded me of a similar scene that John saw and recorded in Revelation 4:1-11. That passage defies description. To read it and try to imagine it is beyond comprehension. A description would fail here. Go read it.

And yet Jesus left all that to put on human skin, and start off a helpless human baby. The Jews were looking for a military messiah, who would rescue them from the Romans and restore the kingdom of David, making them a world power again. Instead, God did just the opposite. Jesus became a man from a dirt-poor little town, who never traveled farther than 100 miles from His birth home, and was mocked, ridiculed, spit on, beaten, and rejected by those He came to save. "How odd of God!" George exclaims in his article. And yet as he points out, Jesus understands what its like to be in our skin. "He knew the agony, numbness, and intensity of being human. No other 'god' took so radical a jump as Jesus... The incarnation (literally 'into flesh') is unique to Christianity because the kamikaze Christ plunged into death so that we might have life. Because Jesus was man, God identifies with us. Because Jesus was divine, we identify with God."

I found myself in Isaiah 53 a couple of days ago in my morning quiet time. The passage describes the complete degradation and humiliation the Christ would endure for fallen humanity. When I read it all, and thought back over the Isaiah 6 and Revelation 4 chapters, I was dumbfounded at the "furious love of God" for us, as Rich Mullins used to describe it. That Jesus would leave all that He left behind (creatures specifically created to constantly worship Him, for pete's sake!) to walk among us and endure what He did at our hands, all to restore us to a right relationship to the Father- leaves me speechless before Him. My praise and worship seems so inadequate.

Yet I will praise Him, with my words and my works- this upcoming holiday season, the rest of my life, and all eternity.

"My utmost, for His highest."

Yesterday I rode down to Watkinsville, to test-ride a cool bike I saw at a motorcycle shop down there. For some time now, I've gotten the itch for another motorcycle- not getting rid of my Royal Star (I love that bike), but a 2nd bike. I've wanted a small sport/street bike, something small & lightweight, just to knock around town & ride the back roads locally. I've looked at the Ducati Monster 620, Kawasaki Ninja 500, and the Yamaha FZ6. Not a new one, but a few years old. I don't really have the $$ for one now, but hopefully in a couple of years I'll be able to.

Anyway, I had ridden down to this shop last week (see prev. post), and saw a used bike there I had never seen before- a 1989 Honda Hawk 650. I was smitten with it- one of the coolest-looking little bikes I've seen in a long time! And being that old, they are really cheap to come by. I spent the past week studying them on the web, and decided I had to ride this only one I found anywhere local. It did not disappoint! I rode it a few miles, and although its an entirely different ride than my big bike, it was a lot of fun, and very easy to handle. I thanked the moto-shop guys, and headed for home.

On the way back north, I began to think about the experience. I asked God if it be His will, when the time was right and the $$ were available, I'd love to have one. Then a Bible verse popped into my head- "Godliness with contentment is great gain." I prayed, "Father, I really love this bike you've given me to enjoy for so many years & miles now. It definitely has been a gift from you. If another bike ever comes, I will thank you. If not, I will thank you. I have been blessed more than I deserve, in every area of my life."

So often, we think God is not interested in our happiness & pleasure. "My God will supply all of your needs,..." And yet, He gives us the ability to enjoy, and so much to enjoy, in this life. He is joy, and desires we live in joy. He does often give us our wants, within His will for our lives. Yet I think sometimes I want more than I should want. Giving us joy and pleasure must be balanced against contentment. And with all He blesses me with, every day of my life, I certainly have much to be joyful about, and much to be content with.

"Godliness with contentment is great gain." 1 Timothy 6:6

I took the day off today, after an extremely busy weekend. I needed it, too. I did a wedding for a couple in our church Friday night, after a Thursday night rehearsal. Saturday we spent trying to fix several problems around the house, not the least of which has been a short somewhere in our electrical system, that keeps tripping a breaker to about 4 sets of lights on our main floor. My dad came up to help, and we spent much of the day trying to trace down the problem, taking apart fixture after fixture, as well as outlets. We never found the problem, even with Lisa's dad's help on Sunday afternoon. Its driving me up the wall.
On top of this, Kelsey's Homecoming game & dance were this weekend, which meant she and her girlfriends were in and out Friday & Saturday, getting ready, taking pictures, etc. That all was fun, actually- a welcome, although hectic, break from electrical problems! All their group pictures with dates were taken here, so there were over 12 cars in our driveway at one point. Ansley stayed busy as well, with a friend of hers up from south Georgia both days.
With all that, plus my Sunday morning duties, it was an exhausting weekend.
Thankfully, the weather was great today, so I layered up and took off on a moto ride. I love this time of year, when the temps are cooler, the leaves are beginning to change, and I can go ride under clear, crisp, sunny days. I rode some backroads down to Watkinsville, got a late lunch at a chicken place I know of, then visited a local Ducati shop I enjoy stopping in on occasionally. I finally pulled back home around 4pm, a little chilly but very refreshed.
Nothing like a good, extended ride on my bike to "untangle the knots." I thanked God for the relationships with both sides of our family, for the memories we are still making with our girls, and for a nice, cozy roof over our head, even if it seems we are always working on something! And yet I am thankful for the quiet moments, the times of solitude, that help me reconnect with my heart, and the heart of God. Rolling down a road at 50-60 mph on a wide-open motorcycle may not seem relaxing to many, but to those who ride, in a hard-to-explain way, it is. And I'm thankful for those few moments I have. God meets me there, and I am refreshed and renewed.

I returned home last night from a 4-day road trip with my dad & mom. This was the first time we brought mom along, and the 3 of us had a great time riding the roads of NE Alabama. I rode down Monday morning to their lake house, where we loaded up the bikes in their "toy-hauler" and headed west for Alabama. It took most of the day to finally arrive at Desoto State Park on Lookout Mtn. We set up camp, built a fire, and planned out the next day's ride.

Tuesday morning arrived cool and clear, but I awoke with an upset stomach, so we delayed our departure until about noon. I finally felt good enough to ride, so we pulled out and rode down to Desoto Falls. These falls are spectacular! A 3-tiered falls, that finally plunges over 100 ft into its own canyon, we stood in awe of the majesty of the roaring waters. Standing near the edge and looking over was almost dizzying- the roar of the waters, the depth of the gorge, the sheer cliffs carved out by the power of water- it was an amazing moment. We rode on over to Little River Falls and Canyon next. These falls were not as high as Desoto Falls, but still over 45 ft high, and wider. We were able to walk around near the edge, but careful not to step too close to the edges. Funny, we saw signs at both places saying, "Jumping Prohibited From The Falls." I'm sure there have been idiots to tried it anyway! The sound of rushing waters and the roar of the falls called to mind the verse in the Bible that describes the voice of God as that of "the sound of many waters." My mother could have stayed there all day, soaking in the sound of the falls. After riding some more beautiful mountain roads, we made our way back to the campsite for supper and sitting by the campfire, under a bright moon. Perfect ending to day 1.

Wednesday we saddled up and rode down into the valley to the town of Ft. Payne. This is the home of the legendary country super-group Alabama, and there are memorials to them everywhere. We visited the Ft Payne Train Depot & Museum, the Opera House, several noteworthy stores and cafe's, and took pictures with larger-than-life statues of the band at the Alabama Memorial in the middle of town. What a great little town! Lots of inspiration there for country music, for sure.

We then rode back up the mountain and hopped on the Lookout Mtn. Parkway, and rode it along the ridge all the way down to Gadsden. There we found the Noccalula Falls & Gorge. This waterfall drops 90 ft. into the Black Creek ravine, where water has carved out a fascinating deeply-rounded cavern underneath. We then visited the Gadsden-Etowah County War Memorial, with tributes to those who gave their lives from that region from WW I to Gulf War I. It was a small but fitting tribute. We saddled up and rode back up the Parkway to Desoto, and again enjoyed supper by a warm campfire under a rising bright moon. Ahh, soothes the soul.

Thursday brought a change of plans. We had planned to stay an extra day and ride Thursday over to Cloudland Canyon, and return home Friday, but something told me to examine my rear tire. A look revealed a shock- the tread had nearly worn completely down all along the center, and in one spot the tread had worn smooth. I couldn't believe it! I knew the tire was getting worn, but I thought I could make it through this trip before replacing it. That was not to be. Rather than risking another 100-200 miles on it in another state, we sadly broke camp and loaded everything up for the long trip home. It was a beautiful drive, heading SE out of the Alabama mountains & hill country, back into sunny GA. I kept thinking about how I'd love to be riding this home on my bike, rather than in my mom & dad's truck. They reminded me of what I really already knew- God is in control, and who knows but that He might have saved us from a situation that could have been anywhere from inconvenient to catastrophic.

I actually did get to finish the trip on my bike, however. We drove to Oxford GA, where we unloaded my bike for the ride home, and my parents turned south toward their lake house. I rode back home under a nearly full moon over my right shoulder, praising God for the great sights & memories of our trip together. There will be other trips, I am hopeful.

Tomorrow- a new tire!

With all the rain we've had, I've done a considerable amount of reading! I just finished one of the most amazing books I've read in years. Its called "Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage", by Alfred Lansing. First written in 1959, it recounts the unbelievable tale of survival of an Antarctic expedition that went bad. I was mesmerized from the first pages.Lansing tells the story of polar explorer Ernest Shackleton, and his plan to cross the continent of Antarctica with a team on foot. Leaving England in August of 1914 aboard the ship "Endurance", they sailed for South Georgia Island down near the Antarctic Circle, headed from there for the Weddell Sea off the Antarctic coast. Bound for Vahsel Bay, they were to have put ashore to begin their overland journey. In January of 1915, after battling through thousands of miles of ever-increasing pack ice over six weeks, the Endurance became locked inside an island of solid ice. For ten months the ice-bound ship and crew of 27 drifted west then northwest before the ice finally crushed the ship and it had to be abandoned in October of 1916. Shackleton and his men then had to endure life on the ice floes for 2-3 months, hoping currents would move the pack ice close enough to land for safe crossing. That never happened. Surviving on limited rations and whatever arctic game they could catch, Shackleton and his men were ice-bound for almost seven months before the drift began to break up and they were forced to take to the 3 boats they had dragged free of the Endurance before she went down. The men then endured a freezing, violent sea journey across some of the most dangerous waters on the planet, the Brasfield Straits, finally reaching the remote Elephant Island after five days. It was the first solid ground they had stood upon in 497 days. On this harse, barren, storm-blown island, Shackleton left 22 of his men, while he took 4 with him to journey back to South Georgia Island, some 650 nautical miles away, back across the storm-tossed South Atlantic seas. Miraculously, they found the island and after several near-death attempts, made shore after 15 days at sea. Exhausted, frost-bitten, weak with malnutrition and various ailments, they then proceeded to cross the previously uncrossed island over 36 hours to a whaling station on the other side. Finally, after several failed attempts, Shackleton himself returned for his men left on Elephant Island August 30 1916, bringing the rest of the crew safely home.

Incredible, beyond imagination- to have survived months on the ice, then so many miles on deadly seas, twice, then to have crossed a previously uncrossed island with little more than the tattered clothes on their backs, then to return for his men at Elephant Island, who themselves survived against insurmountable odds - courage doesn't even come close to describing this. British explorer Duncan Carse in 1955, after making the first overland crossing of South Georgia Island since Shackleton did, wrote, "I do not know how they did it, except that they had to." What Shackleton and his men did defines heroism and determination. Surely, the name of their ill-fated ship described the men across their whole ordeal- Endurance. I look at my momentary, and at times trivial, trials in a new way. When all else is stripped away, who we are inside, our true character, comes out. May my life be one day defined by courage, determination, compassion, wisdom, and an unshakeable faith in my God, who will see me through any trial, as He did the men of the Endurance, nearly 100 years ago.

I spent the end of the week, and most of the weekend, struggling with a kidney stone. Words cannot describe the pain of one of those! It started Thursday night, with a little discomfort in my lower right side, but I dismissed it as a cramp or something. Suddenly about 1:45am I woke out of a dead sleep, feeling like someone had stuck a long blade knife right through me, just above my right hip. I felt it all the way through to my back. I spent the rest of the night doubled over in agony, with only brief periods of minor relief. The pain was so severe, I thought I would black out a couple of times. Man, I wish I had! Lisa kept a cold pack on my head, kept me pumped with Advil or Tylenol 3, but nothing helped much. We thought it was my appendix first, and were preparing to drive to the hospital, except that something tipped Lisa off to the possibility that it might be a stone- I felt this painful urge to pee all night in between waves of agony, but nothing came out. She said, "I think I know what this is..."
She arranged for me to see Dr. Abraham first thing in the morning, who suspected kidney stones as well, but wanted to be sure. They sent me to a CT/MRI imaging office, and the pictures they took of my insides confirmed it. In fact, I had a severe episode right there in the imaging room, and almost fell off the scanner bed, doubled over in pain.
The doc put me Lortab, a heavy pain killer, and told me it was not big enough to get it "blasted", so I'd just have to drink tons of water and try to pass it. Great. That could take days, even weeks! Needless to say, Friday was miserable, and I sweated through several sets of clothes and sheets wrestling with this tiny object inside me. Friday night the pain and its waves seem to let up some, and I began to be able to urinate better. Believe me, that was a welcome feeling!
Lisa thinks sometime on Saturday I may have passed the tiny tormentor. I had a couple of painful times peeing in the morning, then suddenly I was pain-free throughout my affected areas. I did, however, deal with the after effects of the whole ordeal the rest of Saturday on into Saturday night- fever headaches, sweats, and a bloated abdomen, likely from spending days gasping for air while in the throws of pain.
By Sunday morning, although I felt weak and tired, I went to church and led 2 hours of RockiTown children's church. Honestly, I felt better when the morning was over than when I began- I think my strength was just gradually coming back. I've felt pretty good most of the day today. But I still wonder- did I pass that little pointy pebble?? I certainly hope so. I don't want to have to endure THAT kind of pain again anytime soon!
If that's the closest a man will ever come to experiencing childbirth- ladies, I now have an even deeper respect & admiration for you!

Lisa & I celebrated 22 years of marriage this weekend! We spent Saturday roaming around the little town of Greensboro, GA, browsing the local antique shops & outdoor produce markets. We had a wonderful day, just the two of us, mingling with the locals & sampling the local cuisine. Greensboro is a great little town, kind of a miniature of Madison, GA.
We left there, and headed north to Watkinsville, where we stopped at a Ducati motorcycle dealership. Lisa of course humored me, and relaxed in the car while I nosed around all the bikes. Ah, she's a wonderful woman...
We made our way north to Bethlehem, Ga, stopping in at another antique & specialty shop. Not really looking for anything in particular, as in Greensboro, just enjoying the day together. It felt like young love again, walking around these towns hand-in-hand, talking & laughing together. We finished the day on our front porch swing, with a pleasant breeze as the sun slowly set.
I can honestly say, my joy at being with her has not waned over the years, only grown. I love Lisa more today than when we started this journey together, and I hope to love her even more 22 years from now.

The other day, while driving back from Home Depot, I was struck by an amazing sunset. The sun was descending behind a large cloud, and casting color and light all over the sky. As I drove, it was in front of me, all the way home. I was listening to Switchfoot’s song, “This is Home”, and I prayed, “Father, thank You for the daily glimpses of Heaven You give me. This is one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen. I long and ache for my true home that I’ve never seen. Thank You for the little glimpses from time to time. They take my breath away.”
Then He unmistakably spoke to me, “Trust Me, you won’t be disappointed. It will be beyond all you’ve ever dreamed or imagined.” Wow. My eyes filled with tears of wonder.
The sunset followed me all the way home even until I parked my truck. I got out, stood there a moment, drinking it in one last time. The moment ended, but one day it never will.

Sometimes, cutting grass around my house really gets on my nerves. We have about 2 acres of land, and mowing my yard is often spread across a couple of days. I don't try to mow it every weekend, only about every 2 weeks. As the summer wears on, it seems I'm cutting more weeds than grass! Grass is hard to grow, and weeds are hard to kill. Example- my yard has so many patches of crabgrass, that I can cut it one week, and a week-10 days later, while the rest of the surrounding grass is still short, long spindly stems are growing up through the crabgrass, already 2+ ft. long. I've got thorny vines popping up everywhere, and I gave up a long time ago on trying to pull them up or kill them- I just mow over them as well, along with every other weird weed that pops up. Feels like an "exercise in futility", battling back the elements, holding off the "creeping green" every year. A never-ending chore.

When I complain about it every week, I also remind myself, "A result of the fall." Biblically, its true, actually- "creation was subjected to futility" (Romans 8:20) as a result of Adam's & Eve's sin, and expulsion from the Garden. Adam was condemned to toil in the dirt all the days of his life, struggling against "thorns and thistles", by the sweat of his brow (Genesis 3:17-19). Boy, I can identify some days...

I look forward to the day creation is redeemed and restored- "the creation itself will also be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God" (Romans 8:21). That means perfection again, beauty fully restored, creation once again our ally, not our adversary.

And no more cutting "my weeds."

I'm resting & reflecting on this past week of Vacation Bible Camp. Today has been a long day, at the end of a long weekend, at the end of a long week, at the end of a long month! Yesterday alone, I worked 17+ hours getting ready for Sunday. I'm exhausted, but its a "good tired", having spent myself on an event that reached literally thousands of kids & families with the Gospel of Christ. We've been preparing for this week since last fall, and its been worth every bit of effort and energy we invested.
We had planned this event different than any event we have ever pulled off before. Our goal was to try and reach a higher percentage of unchurched people in our community than we ever had before, so we did some dramatically different things this year. We moved VBC to the end of the summer, right before school resumes, to be able to promote our fall programming, which all begins next week. And we moved it to a mid-week and weekend event, running from Wed. through Sunday, to try and get unchurched on our campus across a weekend, and introduce them to Hebron on a Sunday, with our VBC Family Celebration this morning.
In every way, VBC this year met or exceeded our expectations. We had hoped for at least 1000 in attendance every day, and we averaged over 1450 Wed. through Friday. We weren't sure what Sat. would hold, and we hoped to keep it above 1000, and 1301 came back! Having never done a VBC Family Celebration on a Sunday morning, in our huge church gym, we really had no idea how it would go, and how many would return for it, beyond our own people. People began showing up at 8:20am, and kept coming in until almost 10:30am! The place was packed- the bleachers were full, 600+ chairs on the floor were full... there had to be well over 1200 kids & families in attendance. It was an amazing morning, at the end of an amazing week.
This evening, after some much-needed rest this afternoon, I took a much-needed motorcycle ride. The sunset was beautiful, the air cool, the roads deserted. I thanked God for these peaceful moments out in the creation, and I thanked Him for entrusting us with so many kids & families during VBC, and helping it be so successful. Ultimately, it was all about Him anyway, from start to finish.
Some people get to my age and find that success, wealth, position, etc., no longer satisfy, and begin to look for work and causes they can invest in, to feel they are making a difference in the world, and not just living for themselves. I've never had that problem. Though I'll never make the "big bucks", never be famous, never find myself on a "Fortune 500" list- I'm making a difference in children's lives, and their families. God has graciously chosen to use me to help reach a generation for Christ, and ground them in the Word of God and in a daily walk with Him. I would not trade my life for anyone else's. VBC again reminded me- I'm right where I'm supposed to be, doing what I was meant to do. And that is very satisfying to me.

Its been a hard day, at the end of a hard 6 days.

Lisa's grandmother, "MeMother" as we all called her, passed away last Friday. She was Lisa's last living grandparent, and they were close. She had been in declining health for several years, and had been in a nursing home in recent years. We got the call a week ago Monday, during my aforementioned vacation, that she had taken a turn for the worse, and might not make it through the week. It was a good thing we had not made any plans, as we got the call Friday morning of her passing. Even though it was expected, it was no easier when the news finally came. We spent the weekend going back and forth between Newnan and Dacula, for family times, the viewing, and I spoke at her funeral, delivering the eulogy while my old friend and mentor in ministry, Keith Moore, brought the message. In all, it was a beautiful memorial for a beautiful, godly woman, whom we who know Christ will see again. Keith called the service a "home-going celebration", and it was aptly named. "We do not grieve as those who have no hope...", as Paul wrote in 1 Thessalonians 4:13. Still, it was hard to say goodbye, and Lisa finally wept fully Sunday night back at our house, on the front porch at midnight.

Today, Maddey, our 13 year old chihuahua, took a turn for the worse as well. Her health had been declining over the past year, losing much of her eyesight, several of her teeth, and contracting canine diabetes, which compounded her health problems. We were giving her insulin shots daily, but her health still deteriorated. She peed all the time, became unable to hold down food, and today we found her under our bed, breathing hard & heavy and unable to stand up.

It was time.

We took her to our local vet, who gently gave her the injection to put her down. She quietly and calmly died in our hands, kissing her head and stroking her back. It was a good death of a beloved family pet. It was especially hard on Lisa, not only because of MeMother's recent passing, but also because Maddey had been a gift from her to us, 13 years ago. Again, a difficult goodbye. We brought her body home and buried her down near the creek, where we buried Ivey, our first-ever dog, back in 2003.

God always seems to give His grace and loving presence in our sorrow, and I believe the Bible is clear that He is "near to the broken-hearted" Psalm 34:18. And so we allow ourselves to grieve, but we remember the gift of memories with those we love- and we look forward to the day when God will "make all things new", and the reunion will never end. No more goodbyes.

Amen.

I'm on vacation this week, between the super-fun 5th Grade Adventure Trip we completed last week, and VBC coming up the end of July. No real plans for this week, just relaxing with my family, moto-riding down to my parent's place at Oconee, and getting a few much-needed things done around the house.

The other night, I took a late-night walk down my long driveway, and laid down near the end of it. I spent some quiet time on my back, just staring up into space. Teddy sat down next to me, sniffing the air. A cool breeze blew up, and wafted over us. Suddenly, within moments of each other, two shooting stars streaked across the sky. It was amazing. Then a firefly hovered over me, and lit up several times before drifting away. It was all perfectly quiet, and perfectly peaceful. The breeze, the shooting stars, the firefly, my little furry friend by my side- a true "God moment", to linger in. This passage out of the Bible came to mind, out there under the stars-

"When I consider the heavens,

the work of Your hands,

the moon and stars

which You have set in place-

What is man that You are mindful of him?

The son of man that You care for him?

Yet You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings,

and crowned him with glory and honor." Psalm 8:3-5

Every time I hear some evolution-pushing "mad scientist", every time I see commercials on tv for shows peddling evolution propaganda ("The Missing Link-This Changes Everything", "Life After People", etc.), every time some so-called "scholar" screams into a camera, "we are all just cosmic accidents! We came from nothing, and we will go to NOTHING!" (BTW- that came from a scientist on the DVD "Expelled", about anti-creation bias in science & education)- I am reminded of these verses. There is a God who created all, who dearly loves us, who came for us in the form of Jesus Christ, and yes, has a purpose for our lives, here and beyond. Evolutionists can keep their cold, hopeless, depressing view of mankind, the world, and the universe. I know the God in control, and He will get the last laugh. In the meantime, I'll keep reading His words of life in the Bible, and I'll keep visiting with Him on star-filled, cool-breeze, meteor-streaked, firefly-lit, beautiful nights. Its an honor to know Him and enjoy Him.

I recently purchased online a DVD of the 2007 Isle of Man TT motorcycle race- one of the oldest, fastest, and wildest motorcycle road races on the planet. 2007 was the 100 year anniversary of the famed race, which takes place on the Isle of Man, a small island off the west coast of England. The course winds 37.74 road miles around and across the island, through small towns, over wide open spaces, along the coasts, and up over the mountains. The TT takes place each May, across a week, with multiple motorcycle races and many festivities. Its quite a spectacle! I'd love to visit one year. Check out the highlight below-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNxJrB_8gHk

The riders race their bikes for multiple laps around the small island, racing against the clock as much as each other. There are long straightaways, and its amazing the speeds they reach on their 2-wheeled rockets! One particular rider, John McGuinness, is considered a legend of the TT. By the time the 2007 TT was over, he had achieved 2 milestones- he became one of the winningest riders in TT history with 13 career wins, and he broke the all-time lap average speed, topping 130mph lap average in the final race. And best of all, he is my age! Hey, who says you have to slow down with age??

As I watched these races, I was mesmerized by the speed, control, focus, and determination of these human rockets. The greatest riders showed a precision and fire that carried them to great achievements, and to the few best, the winner's stand. I noted as well those who faded and failed. There were men who lost focus and fell behind, those who messed up and crashed, some who failed to calculate fuel usage properly and literally "gassed out", and others who had too slow pit stops or mechanical failure, failing to place or even finish.

I was reminded of how similar a long race like the TT is like life in Christ. Many start "out of the gate" strong and fast, but slow down, get distracted, make wrong turns and poor choices, and "crash" their lives, or just pull over and quit. It seems like so many I've known over the years have wound up this way. As I travel life's road, I see the wreckage of lives that had so much promise, but self-destructed. I see lives just coasting along, not aiming at anything, much less winning. And I see those who have quit, and walked away. They all break my heart, but make me more determined to ride hard, stay focused on Christ, and finish strong. The writer of Hebrews said it well in chapter 12:1 & 2- "...let us run with perseverence the race that is marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus..."

I don't want to end up a "wreck". I don't want to just coast along, aimless. And I certainly don't want to quit and walk away. I want to live my life by those verses, and so many others in the Bible, that challenge me to follow Christ, hard and fast, all the way to the finish line. And there, I want to see Him face-to-face, and hear him say, "Well done, My son! I'm proud of you", as I stand with all the hosts of Heaven, celebrating in the "winner's circle." (2 Timothy 4:8)

That keeps me going.

Last week, the father of one of my life-long friends passed away somewhat suddenly. It shocked and saddened me to hear the news. I went down for the viewing, and stayed the night to attend the funeral. It was a great tribute to a great man. Lyle has been my closest friend since we were both 12 years old, and growing up, we spent a lot of time at each other's homes. I always loved and respected his parents immensely, and my parents always loved Lyle like another son.
Lyle's dad was always very encouraging and supportive. Lyle and I both participated in several sports, and Mr. Branton never missed an event, it seemed. He was always in the bleachers, cheering on his son, and me as well. In fact, I remember many wrestling meets where he and my dad would sit together, yelling all through Lyle's match, then all through mine! They would both be hoarse the day after. Fun memories.
"Mr. B" was also a great man of God. The times I spent the night at their home, I sat in on their nightly family devotionals. He apparently held these daily or nightly, until all 3 kids had moved out on their own. That's convicting to me- I'm in the ministry, and I feel so inconsistent in pulling my own family together for Bible/prayer times!
Mr. B not only walked the walk, he talked the talk. Everywhere he was- whether at the family store, out on business, at a restaurant, or in the prisons he so often chaplained in- Mr. B found a way to share the love of Christ with people. It was not uncommon for him to help lead a person to Christ, right wherever they were! And being a Gideon, he always had a Bible to give. Even in his waning years, in and out of hospitals with various health issues, he shared the love of Christ with people, in word and deed.
That heritage has been passed on to his family. Lyle is a strong Christian, as are his sister and brother. In fact, all the grandkids are now believers as well. All due in no small part to the life and witness of Mr. Lamar Branton. He followed God, and brought others along.
May I always strive to leave a legacy like that- in my family, and anyone God brings across my path. In the end, it's all that will really matter.

I just finished reading a great book, titled "In A Pit With A Lion On A Snowy Day" by Mark Batterson. Based on the account in 2 Samuel 23:20-21 of a man named Benaiah who was counted among King David's "mighty men", the book recounts, among his other feats, chasing a lion into a pit on a snowy day, and killing it. The book uses that account to outline how to reinterpret the obstacles and struggles in our lives as God-ordained opportunities. There were chapters on conquering fears, embracing uncertainty, taking risks, and being willing to fail and/or look foolish, to realize our God-given potential. Fantastic book!
One chapter really spoke to me- the one that addressed the willingness to look foolish and childish to experience great breakthroughs and victories. Batterson cited a couple of fascinating studies of children. It stated that 98% of children ages 3-5 scored in the genius category for creative, out-of-the-box thinking, yet that drops to 32% by ages 8-10, then down to 10% in teenagers. By the age of 25, only 2% still score in the genius category for what he terms, "divergent thinking."
The other study was less scientific, but still fascinating. When 1st graders were asked, "How many of artists are in the room?" all would raise their hands. By 2nd grade, half the class would raise their hands. By 3rd grade, 10 out of 30 would. By middle school, only 1 or 2 would tentatively raise their hands.
Yet God didn't create us, nor did Jesus come for us, to merely forgive our sin, assure us a place in Heaven, and as Batterson puts it, "sanitize and civilize us." God created us, and Jesus came for us, to set us free to be all we were meant to be.
So much of the Bible is filled with zany stories, with zany people, who recklessly trusted God and followed His leading into zany situations. Yet we so often read the stories and get used to them, losing the child-like wonder at all God wants to reveal to us.
I think back over my life- as a child & teen, I was artistic, with folders full of sketches and drawings, and even had a HS teacher, Mrs. Brem, who brought out in me an ability to write poetry! Over the years, I gradually created less & less art, and wrote less poetry. Now, I can barely draw a stick figure, and my writing is reserved for sermons and reports. When did I begin to lose it all? And how can I begin to tap that again?
God wants us to never lose the child-like wonder of Him, His Word, His works, and His creation. And He wants us to recover our creativity, imagination, curiousity, and daring. In short, be willing to look foolish in the eyes of the world, for "God deliberately chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise." (1 Corinthians 1:27)
If there is anything I want to be true of me, it is this. May I always walk and live my life in Christ with a child-like faith in Him, and a child-like wonder at the works of His hands.

I'm reflecting on a wonderful Mother's Day weekend. Saturday, while Lisa and the girls left to meet my mom-in-law, sister-in-law, and nieces for lunch, I took off on my bike for my parents lake house, with two good friends of mine from high school, Pat & Karen Davis. We had an enjoyable ride to Oconee, with cool temps under cloudy skies. My parents had a prepared a good old-fashioned Georgia fish fry for us, and we stuffed ourselves on fried catfish, crappy, and bass. We then all hopped on our bikes and rode, my parents leading the way down scenic country roads through horse and cattle country. We visited the MicroCar Museum in Madison, which was amazing! Over 300 mini-cars, all road-worthy, from all over the world.
Riding with my mom & dad, both nearly 70, I was humbled and grateful. Watching my mom holding onto my dad, helmet & Harley jacket, scarf waving in the breeze behind her, I found myself praying, "May my parents love life and love each other like this, for the rest of their days. And may Lisa and I share the same." I prayed that for Pat and Karen as well, riding with us all day.
Sunday was a blast as well! We celebrated what we called "SuperMom Sunday," inviting moms to participate in our morning children's worship hours with their children. They played the games, sang the songs, won door prizes, and shared in the Bible study times with their kids. I hope the moms all had fun, because we certainly enjoyed putting on the event for them!
That afternoon, my girls and I settled down for a time with Lisa, giving her our Mothers Day gifts and taking her out to dinner. Just an intimate afternoon and evening of showing her how much we deeply love and appreciate her.
As I read Proverbs 31:10-31, I think of Lisa, and both of our moms. All three of these precious women enrich my life in so many ways. I couldn't have asked for a better mother to raise me to know, love and follow Christ. I couldn't have hoped for a better mom-in-law, who has poured herself into Lisa and loved me like her own son. And I couldn't have prayed for a better wife than Lisa, who fills up my senses and my heart with a love I feel so unworthy of but so grateful for, and who selflessly pours her life into our girls. She is truly an "excellent wife" of Proverbs 31, as are both our moms. And I pray my girls will grow up to follow in their footsteps.

Since I joined Facebook last September, I've reconnected with many old high school and college friends. Its been like an internet reunion! Most recently, I found another high school friend named Tony, who I haven't heard from since we graduated. Come to find out, he and his family have been missionaries in a large city in Mexico for a number of years.
I was on Facebook late one night this past weekend, when he popped up on the IM feature, to say hi. Wow, I thought, its Tony, down in Mexico right now! Ah, the wonders of modern technology...
We "conversed" for the better part of an hour, catching up with each other's family and ministry. As we dialogued, I found he works among the poorest of poor in the city, meeting people where they are and meeting their needs with the love of Christ. He said we are in similar situations, serving those the world and the church often neglect or at least don't prioritize. I told him I thought the work he does is much more heart-breaking and emotionally draining than what I do. He sees so much pain, illness, poverty and wickedness down there, I can't even conceive of.
I told him I would pray for him, his family and his work. And I plan to keep my word.
I found his blog online, and his last two entries were about faith & doubt. He struggles, as we all do at times, with questions- what am I doing down here? Am I really making a difference? Did God really call me to this? Is He with me? Am I really doing His will? Then he understands, as I so often come back to, that "we walk by faith, and not by sight." As we keep walking, keep working, God keeps leading, He keeps using us, to further His Kingdom. And He confirms it in our hearts, in the little things day to day, in His Word, and in our hearts.
The solution to doubts? Keep walking.
Now, when I get down on myself, or get selfish or self-centered, I think of Tony, serving Christ down on the streets of a city in Mexico, devoting his life to serving Christ by serving "the least of these." May I so honor Christ in my own life and ministry.

Today marked the 9-year anniversary of my motorcycle accident. I'd almost forgot, until Ansley reminded me yesterday that it would be. Interestingly, she was delivering a speech in one of her college classes on motorcycle safety today, which I had helped her research over the weekend, when she suddenly realized, "Hey Dad, I'll be making this speech exactly 9 years to the day after your accident!" It seemed so many years ago now, as I recounted the events of that day for her speech.
I had taken today off, due to a busy weekend of visiting hospitals & funeral homes as the weekend on-call pastor. After finishing some morning yardwork, I hopped on the bike and took off for an afternoon of riding. I can think of no better way to commemorate that fateful day 9 years ago, than a good ride on a beautiful day.
I headed southeast toward Bethlehem, then through Statham, then down to Watkinsville. I stopped in at NPR Ducati, gawking at the cool Italian bikes on display. One day, I hope to own a 2nd bike, a Ducati Monster 620 or 695. Lord willing, of course...
It was a peaceful, relaxing ride through the country, down roads largely deserted. I rode and prayed, as I often do, about anything and anyone God brings to my mind. I also spent time reflecting on the accident, 9 years ago today. An inattentive motorist had jumped out into traffic, trying to get across to the opposite lanes, and instead jumped into my path. I'd had precious little time to react, gripping down on both brakes in an effort to reduce as much speed as possible, all in a split second. I'd hit him at his left front headlight, flipped over his hood, and landed about 10 feet beyond, in oncoming traffic. Thankfully, cars stopped fast, and many came to my aid. I suffered a compound fracture of my left femur, a shattered kneecap, bruised wrist and shoulder, and numerous cuts and scrapes. I endured 4 surgeries over 18 months, and 3 months of physical therapy to learn how to walk again.
I had always feared two things from the accident- first, that I would never be able to run and exercise again to the extent I was used to, and second, that I might never ride again. But God is faithful, and He allowed me to recover fully, and I've since been more active than before, and of course, I'm riding again, logging about 10K miles a year on the big Yamaha.
As I rode today, I reflected on these things, and how good God is. That accident not only made me a much safer rider, it also has opened so many doors to identify with and minister to people who suffer physically, esp. folks involved in accidents. God has truly turned my scars into stars, as an old preacher used to say. And I have my share of scars!
I love to ride motorcycles. I love the openness of it, being right out in the elements; I love the feel of a powerful machine under me, under my total control, blasting down the road; I love the wind in my face, the sun on the back of my neck, the sights, the smells, the sounds, the feeling of temperature changes up and down hills, the freedom. But most of all, I love the solitude, and the communion with my Father out on the road. I am thankful He gave me back my health, and thankful for this motorcycle He gave me, to enjoy riding, to enjoy Him, and to share His love with others I meet out there.
I am truly blessed.
"We know that God causes all things to work together for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

Its funny how we so often work so hard to arrange for our own happiness. And funny how often life happens, and disrupts our "best laid plans of man."
I had planned out my Saturday perfectly- Ansley & Kelsey both had responsibilities all day, so I planned to get up around 9:30am, eat breakfast, then join Lisa in some fun yardwork with flower planting, opening our flower garden fountain, etc. After lunch, I planned to take a good, long solo motorcycle ride, be back for dinner, then settle down to make my final prep for Sunday morning kid's church.
That was my plan- and it didn't take long before it was disrupted. Kelsey had been run off the road in her car by a "hit & run" truck a couple of days before, and along with car body damage, she had blown a tire. After getting a spare on it, yesterday she used Lisa's car to visit a friend, and promptly took a nail puncture in one of those tires! So my Saturday afternoon would be spent at a tire store, replacing two tires for two cars. Not what I had planned...
I was down in the dumps, thinking a perfect day was lost. My plans were ruined. Fortunately, God got my attention. He reminded me that my attempts to arrange for my own happiness was not the point. My life was in His hands, and He would provide for all my needs.
As it turns out, the tires were both fixed quickly and without a huge cost, as they were still under warranty on both cars. I ended up returning home by 5pm, and Lisa said, "Hey, its been a trying day. Go take a ride." So I took off, and had a wonderful, beautiful, relaxing ride as the sun slowly began to set. I rode to Good Hope and back, just letting the road and wind and scenery untangle my mind.
On a back road, by a postcard perfect scene overlooking a sun setting behind a farm on rolling hills, I looked up, and saw a break in the gathering clouds. The hole in the cloud took the shape of a heart, and God spoke into mine- "Just a little reminder of My love for you." I replied, "Thank you Father, I love you too." He had reminded me not only of His love, but also that life's purpose and pleasures were in His hands. I so easily complain about what I don't have, or what doesn't go according to my plans, then I realize I have been blessed with so very much, and I would not have had my life turn out any other way. I among men, am most blessed, more than I deserve.

Some thoughts I pondered as I prepare for Easter-
After reading the 1 Corinthians 15:12-34 passage, I got thinking, "What if Jesus had not raised from the dead? Would there even be a Christianity?" As I thought about it, I believe there would be a Christian religion, but it would be no different than any other religion- a system of rules, rituals, and traditions adhering to the teachings of a dead prophet or teacher. Jesus would not rank any higher than Mohammed, Buddha, Krishna, Joseph Smith, etc. A dead religion, of a dead teacher, followed by people still "dead in their trespasses and sins." Who would want to be a part of that?? I certainly would not- no more than I would want to become a Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Mormon, or any other binding, shackling religious system.
Paul said it best- "If Christ has not been raised, then your faith is useless and you are still guilty in your sins." v.17
But I'm thankful I do not follow the dead teachings of a dead prophet of a dead religion! Jesus Christ IS God, He WAS raised from the dead, and He IS alive, now and forevermore. And because He lives, I know I will live, and I have His life in me right here and now. That's worth proclaiming. The world needs to know.
Christianity at its core is not a religion- it is a relationship with the living God, through His living Son. I'm thankful to know Him, and I'll follow Him in this life and for eternity!

Happy Resurrection Day.

I had my 2nd round of steroid injections in my neck a few days ago. I knew what to expect more this time, so it didn't seem so bad. The thing that drives me crazy is the fact that I'm not supposed to do any exercise whatsoever for at least a month, while my disks and nerves heal. I've been abiding by the doctor's orders, but just sitting around and resting when I'm used to plenty of exercise is maddening. I need to be careful what I eat, and how much, so I won't gain weight. I'm not able to burn it off like I'm used to.
I'm off today and tomorrow, the weather is unusually cold, and I'm stuck inside. I can either sit around and snack, which I don't want to do, or I can redeem the time, spend it catching up on some good reading and some much-needed time with God. I'm reading "In a Pit with a Lion On a Snowy Day" by Mark Batterson. I'm in a chapter on seeing obstacles as opportunities, and its reminding me of how adversity provides opportunity for greater intimacy with Christ, and greater ministry in His name. I hope to feed my soul in these times I'm recovering, rather than get lazy. But I do look forward to being able to get active again, soon!
"All things work together for good to those who love God, and are called according to His purposes."

A couple of days ago, I went to a specialist for a set of steroid injections in the base of my neck. This came after more than a year of physical therapy to remedy my neck issues. While PT helped strengthen certain neck & back muscle groups, and really improved my posture and lifting, I still kept having problems.
I've had neck and back pain off and on since high school, seeing many chiropractors over the years. About 5 years ago, in a jiu jitsu class, I got kneed in the side of my head, which apparently torqued my neck in such a way that two disks at the base of neck herniated, bulged, and began to pinch nerves painfully. After chiro and PT of and on for a couple of years, the symptoms mostly disappeared. I resumed my active lifestyle of weight lifting, running, martial arts, etc.
This past February, my neck issues came back with a vengeance, this time by simply sleeping in a guest bed at my parent's lake house. I could barely lift my head level without severe pain for several days. Chiropractic only made it worse this time, so I started active physical therapy again. I was experiencing pain and tingling across both shoulders and down my left arm, at times even into my fingers. Over the past year, I underwent two 4-month sessions of PT, then was recommended for the steroid injections.
My first injections came last Thursday, and were strangely painful. I sat upright, only slouching slightly over a pillow, and the doc injected lidocane to numb the area. That hurt, getting a needle in the base of my neck! Once numb, he stuck a long needle deep into my spinal column. That didn't hurt actually, but I felt the pressure as he pressed it deeper into my spinal disks. As he began to squeeze the steroid medicine into my neck disks, I felt a weird pain, sort of hot and cold, in the center of my spine. I've never felt pain there before! Hard to describe. In fact, the more he injected, the sensations seemed to trickle down my back, and out my right shoulder. In about 5 minutes, it was over. I felt stiff for a few minutes, then as the day went on, I felt odd pains in my head, my elbow, my right knee, all of which the doc had said could happen due to the cortizone travelling not only into my neck, but around my body. Unusual pains, in unusual places.
I'll go back the first week of April for "round 2" of injections, which the doc thinks will be enough to relieve the swelling around the disk and nerves, and hopefully I can begin to get back to normal in about a month. Until then, I guess I'll just take it easy, try not to aggravate anything, so everything will begin to heal.
Its tough getting old...

The other night we were channel-surfing after dinner, and found a special on one of the networks called, "What Would You Do?" hosted by John Quinones. They staged various situations out on the community, to see how people would respond.
One situation they staged was two-fold. First, they had a sharp-dressed woman walking down a busy sidewalk suddenly collapse, seemingly unconscious. With hidden cameras placed around, they recorded how people reacted, and how quickly. Every time, almost immediately, people came to her aid- touching her, talking to her, calling for help. Second, they had a man dressed disheveled, clutching a sack and a beer can, collapse the same way, in the same place. No one stopped, most barely looked at him, even right when he collapsed. After about 50 people passed by on either side, the most unexpected thing happened. A bent-over old black woman, walking with a cane, herself seemingly homeless, hobbled over to him, bent over, and began to touch and talk to him softly. After trying to revive the man with no luck, she stood over him, asking everyone who passed by, "Please, help this man." After another 30 or so people passed by, ignoring both of them, she began to tear up and looked skyward, seeming to cry out to God, "Why??" The woman took the empty beer can from his hand and threw it away, hoping then that someone would stop. She even gave a name to the man, talking to him softly and calling him "Billy." It made the situation somehow more personal, and her more connected to the man.
Finally, a woman stopped, called 911, and stayed for awhile until the crew came out and revealed the experiment. Even as the man got up, showing he really was fine, the black woman still kept calling him Billy, and kept stroking his jacket. She eventually ambled off, like an angel with a walking cane. It was moving.
With the premise of the show being "What Would You Do?", it got me thinking about how I would react. Everyone's first thought is that they would indeed help, but would we? Would I? I went back and read Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan, with new eyes. God calls us to be a real "neighbor", and not pass by those we can offer the life & love of Christ to.
Give me Your eyes for just one second
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me Your love for humanity
Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted
Ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me Your eyes so I can see
-Brandon Heath, "Give Me Your Eyes"

I was off yesterday, the weather was finally good, so I took off for a day of riding up in the north Georgia mountains. The further north I went, the higher in elevation I rose, the more the temperature cooled, aided by cloud cover over the mountains. I was glad I brought some layers under my leathers.
I stopped at a gas station outside Clermont, to warm up with a cup of coffee. As I stood in line to pay up, a woman entered with 2 boys, that looked about 15 and 10. I don't know if she was their mother or not, but they went to the back of the store, and came to the front carrying big cases of beer! All three were carrying them- each toted a case up. As they stood in line, I looked at her, the case she carried, then each of the boys, and their cases. I was shocked that this woman was bringing these boys along, and using them for this purpose. Not only that, as they approached the register next to me, the woman said, "Hi, back again! We took the last of your cases." The cashier said, "Looks like a huge party." To which she replied, "Oh yeah, the beer's gonna flow!" The boys were giggling behind her, holding their beer cases.
I couldn't believe all I had just seen and heard. What an absolutely terrible example she was setting with these boys. They were being set up for a life of drinking & drunkenness at an early age, not only by what they apparently see all the time, but forced to get involved in. Pathetic.
I hope and pray my life never leads others astray- intentionally or by accident. The Bible says, "It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around his neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin." Luke 17:2

A children's ministry friend of mine, Roger Fields, sent this creed to me. I find it challenging and inspiring.

I want to be a member of the Real Deal Club.
I want to be authentic on the inside and outside.
I want my actions to match my words.
I want to get out of the center of my own universe.
I want to lay down my agenda in favor of what God is doing.
I want to treat people better than they expect.
I want to get over it fast when someone does me wrong.
I want to be in secret what I am in public.
I want to always remember that it’s not all about me.
I want to accept God’s forgiveness when I mess up.
I want to be able to laugh at myself.
I want to notice when someone else is hurting.
I want to talk to God and listen to what He says.
I want to relax and let God do the stuff I can’t do.
I want to stop occasionally and remember what is important.
I want to stop pushing my opinion on others.
I want to learn new ideas.
I want to enjoy making adjustments from failures.
I want to live like I believe God can do anything.
I want to stop being consumed by success.
I want to stop taking on burdens I can’t carry.
I want to do what is right even when it costs me.
I want to love people I don’t like.
I want to do what I say I will do.
I want to keep appropriate boundaries with the opposite sex.
I want to trust God without telling Him how to do things.
I want to keep from expecting more from people than they can do.
I want to read the Bible like God wrote it for me.
I want to own up quickly to my mistakes.
I want to stop living in the past.
I want to see the big picture.
I want to let go of small irritations.
I want to admit it when I don’t know something.
I want to let others succeed without being jealous.
I want to let others fail without being critical.
I want to be really happy when something good happens to someone else.
I want to try new ideas just for the fun of it.
I want to be secure with who God made me.
I want to be thankful for what God has done for me.
I want to be thankful for what I have.
I want to learn from others without feeling threatened.
I want to be peaceful.
I want to listen more than I talk.
I want to be interested in what interests others.
I want to learn to enjoy my work more.
I want to be a blessing to someone else when I can.
I want to face the future knowing my God has already been there.
I want to be the real deal.

This past weekend I had a rather eye-opening experience, that greatly saddened me.
My brother Rick called me, asking about the last time I ever heard any news about our old youth pastor, from when we were teens (too many years ago..). "Its funny you asked," I said, "I was thinking about him just last week." Rick told me, "I think I found him."
Some background- Johnny (name changed) was an exciting, young, energetic youth pastor that came to our church when I was in 10th grade, and was a new believer. The youth group grew, reached many new kids for Christ, and Johnny was a role model for many of us. They were great years, and I made great memories in that youth group.
But Johnny had a character flaw, that became apparent after I graduated. He was found to have been committing adultery on his wife. He resigned his position, but they got counseling to preserve their marriage. They eventually moved back to Fla., to the church they came from, and he served under his former pastor again, who gave him another chance. We later heard he had another affair on his wife, which destroyed his marriage and his ministry. The last I had ever heard of Johnny, he was back up here in Ga., living in Conyers, running a successful sign-making business. It seemed, finally, all was settling down in his troubled life.
But Rick told me about a "MySpace" page he had found, with a guy that looked remarkably like Johnny. The guy had tons of pics of himself at bars & nightclubs, surrounded by women much younger than him, with wild partying, drinking, etc. going on. He called himself a "celebrity photographer", and it looked like he made a living taking pictures of people living wildly & sinfully. He even had a couple of website links, which also seemed to include a nightclub DJ business, among other things.
I looked at him in all his pictures, and told Rick, "Yeah, that's him- I'd know his eyes and smile anywhere." Here he was, gray-haired, wrinkly, in his mid-50s, living like he was some godless 22 year old.
I was saddened and troubled by all I saw. This guy had once been such a great role model to so many of us when we were teens, and look where the choices in his life have brought him to. Sure, he may appear, may even believe, his life is one big party, but will he have anything to show for it, at life's end one day?
I pondered him much of the weekend, and thanked God my life didn't go the way of Johnny. At the end of life, all he will have in hand as he stands before God will be failed marriages, destroyed ministry, and a life wasted on vanity, sensuality, and selfish ambition. In other words, nothing.
I don't want that to ever be said of my life. I want to stand before my Father one day, and hear Him say, "Well done, son. Welcome home." In fact, if I could write my own epitaph for my tombstone, I hope it will be, "He walked with God, and brought others along." That's what I want my life characterized by. The things that will last.
Jesus said of the last days, "Sin will be rampant everywhere, and the love of many will grow cold. But the one who endures to the end will be saved." Matthew 24:12-13.
May I walk with God, bring others with me, and endure to the end.

I'm home sick today, its Monday, an unusually warm February day, and I'm fighting a head/chest infection. No fun.
An old friend of mine sent me this remedy-
"A big bowl of chicken soup, followed by a 60-mile motorcycle ride in the country always makes me feel better. If that doesn't work follow up with 40 pages Brennan Manning, taken along with 6 tracks of Rich Mullins. A guaranteed cure for whatever's got you down." Sounds like a cure to me!!
I was thumbing through some devotional readings I've compiled from John Eldredge and others, and came across one called, "Restoration". It struck a chord in my heart today, I guess due to the combination of my illness, the warm day, and my longings for spring to get here. Here's a few thoughts from it-
"The blind saw, the deaf heard, the lame walked, the dead were raised. Wherever humanity was broken, Jesus restored it. He is giving us an illustration here, and there, and there again. The coming of the kingdom of God restores the world he made."
"God has been whispering this secret to us through creation itself, every year, at springtime, ever since we left the Garden... After months and months of winter, I long for the return of summer. Sunshine, warmth, color, and the long days of adventure together. The garden blossoms in all its beauty. The meadows soft and green. Vacation. Holiday. Isn’t this what we most deeply long for? To leave the winter of the world behind, what Shakespeare called 'the winter of our discontent,' and find ourselves suddenly in the open meadows of summer?"
"The restoration of the world played out before us each spring and summer is precisely what God is promising us about our lives. Every miracle Jesus ever did was pointing to this Restoration, the day he makes all things new."
(exerpts from "Epic", by John Eldredge)
Restoration- that is what Jesus' mission was all about, what His crucifixion accomplished, what it means to walk with Christ in this life, and ultimately, what we set our heart and hope on for our eternity. The ultimate restoration of all things. "Behold, I make all things new", says Jesus in Revelation 21:5.
My heart looks for, and longs for, the final restoration.

Dogs.
I'm overrun with dogs. They are consuming my days, taking over my life.
About a month ago, our chihuahua Maddey was diagnosed with canine diabetes. She had been developing cataracts, losing weight, guzzling water daily, and peeing all over the house. It was awful. So now, we give her insulin shots twice daily. A dog, taking insulin shots. Crazy.
Then about two weeks ago, we began seeing a brown female pit bull hanging around, befriended by Dexter, our 3-legged dog that had adopted us a little over a year ago. I found myself running off this dog every day. I even got up one morning, and caught her in the outside doggie bed on the front porch, with him!
Then one early Friday morning, after we had let Dexter out, we heard barking, fighting, and pain-filled howling out back. I turned on the back flood light, and I saw a large black dog on top of Dexter, just biting him up mercilessly. I rushed outside, and that dog was gone in a flash. We saw him around the property several times daily over the weekend, then on Sunday morning, while the girls had let Maddey out to briefly pee, they came in to get their coats, and in an instant, Maddey was viciously attacked by the black dog, this time accompanied by the pit bull. The girls ran off the rogue dogs, and Maddey was bloodied and crippled, unable to walk the rest of the day. We took her & Dexter to the vet on Monday, getting Dexter a rabies shot as precaution, and Maddey was found to have been wounded in her lower back, resulting in nerve and back leg damage. She might never walk right again.
I was furious. We spent the next week guarding our three dogs every time we took them out, under seige in our own yard, and I kept my handguns loaded and cocked, hoping for a chance to kill them both should I get a good shot at them. They stayed elusive, showing up and then disappearing before I could get to them. Turns out, neighbors down the street had seen the mongrels themselves, one even saying they had killed two of his chickens.
Animal Control could not catch them, but several of us were determined we would eventually get them. Finally, this past Sunday, I heard a fusillade of small arms fire, coming from down the street. We have not seen the dogs, either one, since. I hope someone killed these dangerous dogs- after what the black one had done to my dogs, I just wish it could have been me. That sounds bad, I know. I just wanted to avenge Maddey.
Yesterday, we got another surprise. Kelsey and her boyfriend bought a 9-week old teacup Yorkie, for their 2-year anniversary. That's the last thing we needed, was another dog! We told Kelsey, "This is your dog. We are not taking care of another dog. She is solely your responsibility and expense." And now Ansley wants one....
Like I said, I'm overrun with dogs. God certainly made them to be "man's best friend", I just don't need any more 4-legged, furry friends!

As I try to focus my heart more on Christ this new year, and "walk humbly before your God" like Micah 6:8 says, I've asked God to give me His eyes for other people, and grow my compassion for them. I get so hurried in my life, and so focused on my schedule, my agenda, etc., that I can easily pass people by, brush them off, without stopping to invest the love of God in them. I want to change that.
Well, God put me to the test right away, and gave me opportunities to be compassionate. And I failed miserably a couple of times. First, a young man who used to be in our children's ministry came by to visit me in the RockiTown room early Sunday morning, while I was working to get everything set up for the morning worship hours. I was less than glad to see him, and was not as friendly to him as I could have been. After some small talk, while I was still working away, he quietly said goodbye, and slipped out of the room. Then at the end of the morning, as the last of the kids had left for the day, a dad came through, who serves in the Army reserves and got back from Iraq in the past year. He asked for prayer in reconnecting with his 8-year old son, and for wisdom in dealing with some rebellion & respect issues they were beginning to have with him. I was finishing the process of putting everything away, and was tired at the end of a long morning (7am to 12:30pm), and gave him the customary "I'll pray for you", with some words of "every parent deals with these, welcome to parenthood" platitudes.
I was later so convicted over both encounters. I missed two opportunities to show compassion. It bummed me out for a couple of days.
Then today at the gym, I saw this lady that I had seen there before, and recognized from somewhere. She had looked at me before like she recognized me as well. As I saw her again today, I realized she worked at the gym, but instead of hurrying back to the office, and rather than passing by her and just saying, "Hi, how are you, good to see you" like we so often do, I stopped and asked her if we knew each other. Turns out, her family had attended my former church back in the 90's, and her two older kids had come up through my children's ministry there. Wow, that was how we knew each other! I asked her how the family was doing, and she proceeded to confide in me that her marriage fell apart about 8 years ago, she had struggled to provide for her 3 kids over the years, had lost a job in nursing that she had trained for, and only recently began work at the gym. I asked if she was attending that church still, and she said she had not been back since the divorce. She told me that she used to teach in preschool there, was involved in Adult Sunday School ministry, went to visitation every week, and never missed a worship service. Yet when her marriage and family was in crisis, no one ever contacted them to find out what was happening, or to say that they were missed. She relocated her kids up to Dacula, but had not plugged back into any church since.
So here is this woman who I had once ministered to her children, dealing with the pain of a divorce and the pain of neglect from a church she had once faithfully served, coupled with the ongoing struggles of being a single mom. God kept me there listening to her, in the lobby of the gym, while she confided these things in her kids' old children's pastor from years ago. She finally had to get back to work, and only then did I say I'd pray for her and her family, and that we'll talk again sometime.
I left there today praying for her, and asking God, "Give me your eyes for the broken-hearted, and the compassion to not pass them by." Jesus would be in a crowd of people, and notice someone to the side who needed His touch, or someone who needed His attention. He always stopped, always made time, no matter who or what was pressing Him to keep moving.
Father, I want to stop for people more, and give them the love and life they need, from Your heart, through mine, to theirs.
Fill me with compassion.