I attended the funeral of an old friend today. Skip Cooper was 61 when he passed away Sunday, after a long, painful battle with cancer. Hearing of his death, then being with his family before the funeral, brought back many memories from over 20 years ago.
I first met Skip when I was hired by Clarkston Baptist Church as their Youth & Recreation Pastor in 1989. Skip was a deacon, a bus driver for the youth group, and a coach & director in our basketball leagues. In the 3 short years I was there, Skip became my closest friend, and closest ally, in the church. We were creative, trying new things and taking big chances, in an effort to reach people not only for our youth group and rec. leagues, but mostly for Jesus Christ. I caught heat from people in the church, as well as other staff members, over the changes we would try to implement, but Skip once told me, "You just do what you believe God is telling you to do, and don't worry about the complainers. If you do that, I'm with you. I got your back." Skip went with us on summer retreats, on winter ski trips, you name it. Even though he was 15 years older than me, and had a son and daughter in the youth group (Brian & Allison), Skip and I became close friends. Even after I left to go on staff with First Baptist Snellville, we kept in touch with Skip & Sherri, who like Lisa & I by then, had another child, Jason, the same year Ansley was born.
Over the miles and years since, we gradually lost contact with the Coopers. We left FBC Snellville in late 1999 for Hebron Baptist, and the Coopers moved to Snellville as their two older children went off to college, got married, started families of their own. I reconnected with Brian & Allison on Facebook last year, as well as many of the old "Clarkston kids," nearly all of which have children of their own now as well. And it was through FB that I heard of Skip's losing battle with cancer, and his passing this past Sunday.
As I sat in that chapel during his funeral, I couldn't help but think that, while we down here were mourning his passing, Skip was enjoying a reunion in Heaven. An amazing thought- he said goodbye to his friends & loved ones here, but was met by an enthusiastic group of friends & loved ones at the gates of Heaven, those who had gone on before him. I find myself at times longing for the healing, wholeness, and joyful reunion that awaits me one day, but acknowledging that there is still much to do here, more people to reach for Christ. The preacher who spoke quoted the late Jim Elliot, missionary who gave his life to further the Gospel-
"He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose."
Skip's life certainly modeled that. I hope mine always does as well, until its my time to go home too.
I'll see you again someday, old friend. But not yet. Not yet.

I'm reflecting on the previous year, and the previous decade. 2009 was a good year, capping off an eventful decade. So much happened in the world over the past 10 years- "9-11", the war in terror, Hurricane Katrina, tsunamis, our first African/American president, economic boom followed by economic scandals & collapse, amazing technological advances, etc. The 2000's were an eventful time, to be sure.

In my own life, I joined the staff at Hebron Baptist, and been there ever since. I had two firsts, at the same time- had my first major traffic accident and broke major bones, in my motorcycle accident. Lisa & I celebrated our 20th anniversary, we both entered our 40s, our girls came of age and started driving, finishing school, beginning college. We both had parents entering their 70s, and celebrated major milestones in their own marriages.

What will this coming year hold? The coming decade? I can't say with any certainty. Who knows what will happen in the world, what will happen in America, what will happen in my life? A few things are certain- Lisa & I will both enter our 50s, our parents will enter their 80s, our girls will enter careers and likely get married and start families. I may even become a grandfather! Now that's a weird thought...

Each decade seems to have its own identity, its own collection of images that define it for those who lived in it. However the next year and the next decade will be defined, in the world and in my life, I know only this- I want my life to be defined by a growing, deepening walk with God, with my wife, with all those I love. I want to still be useful in service to Him, and I want my life to point others to Him.

My God carried me and my family over the past year and decade. I entrust myself, and all I hold dear, to God in the coming year, the coming decade. He is truly the only sure thing.

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.