I just read a post from a dear friend on Facebook and I was moved almost to tears. The post concerned the newest movement focused on ending gun violence. I know, why would that move me to tears, it's a noble effort, and gun violence... wouldn't it be wonderful if it could be wiped out? Here's the thing, gun violence is not what we need to work on, it's only a symptom of the true sickness that causes pain throughout the world... sin.
Every country in the world has outlawed slavery, yet every day in thousands of cities and communities around the world girls, women and young boys are bound against their will to do unspeakable things for those powerful enough to break the laws of civilized society at the most base levels.
Every country in the world has laws against theft, rape, physical violence, and murder, yet every day people become victims of these crimes.
It is illegal to kill someone yet we see throughout the world, people use numerous means to bring life to a violent end. If a gun is not available a knife will do, if no knife then maybe a hammer, no tools, then the wheels of a car..... or maybe a nasty dose of poison, drugs, a push into traffic, or a plain old fashion beat-down...
We have made laws against violence since Old Testament times, and most cultures have a common legal code. So why do we still have death and violence when we have such strict laws? the answer is simple; it's sin. We are immersed in sin. Sin is in our hearts. There is only one way to combat sin, and that is through a daily growing relationship with Jesus Christ.
There in lies the problem, Jesus..... because we are sinful, we are averse to admitting our need of this relationship, and we avoid it because it would mean changing who and what controls our life.
So now I will write a statement that will be very unpopular in the current social flow. Passing another gun law will do nothing to change what happens on a daily basis. People will still kill each other. Starting a new feel-good movement to outlaw guns or knives (sticks, stones, sharp sticks) will do nothing but make the people involved feel like they have accomplished something, but in reality nothing will change. The only thing that will change society is people meeting Jesus in a personal and life changing way.
Thoughts that make more sense when I get them outside of my head and into view.

Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Sunday, March 1, 2015
You will know them by their Fruit
One of my favorite movies is "Saving Private Ryan." I have watched it 3 times, I have watched other movies more, but this film always has a powerful effect on me. The most powerful scene for me is the scene near the end of the film where an elderly Ryan, for whom we saw so many sacrifice so much, is shaken by emotion as he looks at the grave of one of the men responsible for saving him. through his tears, he pleads with his wife, asking her to reassure him that he was a good man, that the life he has led was worthy of the sacrifice of these men he has come to visit. "Tell me that I lived a good life. Tell me that am a good man." In this scene he is faced with a full understanding that if his life was an empty one, the men before him died in vain. He needed proof that someone saw value in his life. I remember seeing the movie for the first time and when that scene was over, I realized that I had that same question, was my life a life of value, a life of evidence?
Last weekend was an amazing weekend for me as a father. So many memories happened, so many smiles spread, so many tears shed. At the end of those two short days I was worn out (in a good way) by the blessings that God had showered over me.
As I negotiated the days after this past weekend, the ones fill with the day-to-day trivialities that often make us feel like a faceless cog amongst the machine of life, I found myself coming back to the promise of Christ in Matthew chapter 7; "So then, you will know them by their fruits." I know I might be taking this verse slightly out of context, many will say that Jesus was teaching his disciples how they will be able to identify true teachers from those that are false, those with the gospel of grace and those with a twisted version of it. I began to see it as a statement made in connection to Proverbs 22; "Train up a child in the way they should go..." that it was a measure of a father as well. As the week went on, the words that I prayed in church on Sunday morning, thanking God for the blessing of those teenagers in the youth choir who lead us in such a pure and transparent worship time, kept returning to me. It was almost as if God was reminding me that I had some part in it.
What a full weekend. Jac had an amazing performance at a local gym meet, and seeing him interact with his teammates and fellow competitors was more uplifting than seeing him earn medals from his performance. Alex blew away the judges at her solo and ensemble performances though her music and her presence. Chris expertly supported his future bride during a very busy visit from her mom and grandma as they pushed through plans for their May wedding. Domi made me cry as her voice led a room of hundreds in worship during a county wide youth choir event. Not only was I touched by my own children, but kids with whom I have worked were present in the memories made. The girls from our Life group danced during both the worship time at church and at the concert. Teens that were in my bike group over the past 2 years were involved in the glorifying of God, their faces showing an amazing desire to serve our Lord.
Those moments last weekend have left me with assurance that there is evidence in this life of my value. My children and the children that I listened to and saw last weekend were God's proof that I had produced fruit. I hear myself think these thoughts and I feel as though I am being egocentric, but I know his thing called life is not about me, it's about Him and them. Sometimes, though, a man needs the reassurance that comes from being able to look back at his work and know that his efforts were fruitful. This past weekend was one of those moments for me. Now it's time to shut up and go make more of those moments.
Last weekend was an amazing weekend for me as a father. So many memories happened, so many smiles spread, so many tears shed. At the end of those two short days I was worn out (in a good way) by the blessings that God had showered over me.
As I negotiated the days after this past weekend, the ones fill with the day-to-day trivialities that often make us feel like a faceless cog amongst the machine of life, I found myself coming back to the promise of Christ in Matthew chapter 7; "So then, you will know them by their fruits." I know I might be taking this verse slightly out of context, many will say that Jesus was teaching his disciples how they will be able to identify true teachers from those that are false, those with the gospel of grace and those with a twisted version of it. I began to see it as a statement made in connection to Proverbs 22; "Train up a child in the way they should go..." that it was a measure of a father as well. As the week went on, the words that I prayed in church on Sunday morning, thanking God for the blessing of those teenagers in the youth choir who lead us in such a pure and transparent worship time, kept returning to me. It was almost as if God was reminding me that I had some part in it.
What a full weekend. Jac had an amazing performance at a local gym meet, and seeing him interact with his teammates and fellow competitors was more uplifting than seeing him earn medals from his performance. Alex blew away the judges at her solo and ensemble performances though her music and her presence. Chris expertly supported his future bride during a very busy visit from her mom and grandma as they pushed through plans for their May wedding. Domi made me cry as her voice led a room of hundreds in worship during a county wide youth choir event. Not only was I touched by my own children, but kids with whom I have worked were present in the memories made. The girls from our Life group danced during both the worship time at church and at the concert. Teens that were in my bike group over the past 2 years were involved in the glorifying of God, their faces showing an amazing desire to serve our Lord.
Those moments last weekend have left me with assurance that there is evidence in this life of my value. My children and the children that I listened to and saw last weekend were God's proof that I had produced fruit. I hear myself think these thoughts and I feel as though I am being egocentric, but I know his thing called life is not about me, it's about Him and them. Sometimes, though, a man needs the reassurance that comes from being able to look back at his work and know that his efforts were fruitful. This past weekend was one of those moments for me. Now it's time to shut up and go make more of those moments.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Give and Take
We (Terri, the 2 younger guys, Mom & Dad, and I) just spent the past 4 days North of Atlanta in the Middle of the Chattahoochee National Forest. The cabin we stayed at for the second time is a little home about 1/2 way down hwy. 60 between Blue ridge and Suches. This picture is one of the creek that is not more than 25 feet from the front porch. It's sounds will sing you to sleep and its water are crystal clear so that you can see the fool's gold littering the streambed.
This trip for me was a lesson on what I am and what I am not. I learned that I am very comfortable in the mountains, living a little more simply and apart from large numbers of people. I also learned that I am NOT meant to live in Atlanta. There is something about that town that, for me at least, oozes stress and anxiety. We had to go through the ATL on the way in and during that part of the trip I found out my car has a cooling issue. We were there for a gym meet that my son was competing in on Saturday, and so were 50,000 cheerleaders, their coaches, parents, and there make-up support staff. We found out that they were there when we tried to go the last 2 miles of the drive to the meet on Saturday. That 2 miles took an hour, not exaggerating, an hour. Terri and Jac actually walked the last mile and a half while we fought through the traffic. They made it there about 20 minutes before mom and I did. It took a lot of effort to bring me back down off the emotional ledge that evening. The drive back through the mountains did it, that and the laughter that we shared in the car on the drive back (thanks Mr. Bag).
The next morning it was in the teens and the sky was crystal clear. Coffee is just better in the woods. The dogs were absolutely having a ball. All day Friday Alexandra and Jac were in the woods out back exploring. Rocks look better in the woods. There were pockets of ice all along the stream. The kids found walking sticks and poked at all sorts of stuff. Sticks are better in the woods.
On the way home today we drove out through the forest heading SE. If the road was a twisting snake coming into the cabin from the NW, then the road to Suches and Dahlonegah was like a tangle of snakes. We took time to stop and smell the views on the way out, I kept thinking I wish I was on my bike.... except it was 25 degrees.
The best part of the trip was seeing my son compete. He had a really rough competition, but through it all he kept on giving what he had to give. In the end he came away with a 6th place in one event, but he pushed through and in the end he had a positive outlook toward the future.
Attitudes are better in the woods.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
A short Thank You
My ears aren’t so good any more; they haven’t been for some
time. I think I started loosing my
hearing right after the first bad incident I had with electricity back when I
was in college doing refrigeration work during the summer time. Any way, I really notice it when I wear
headphones, one sounds like it’s turned way up and the other is seems as though
it’s only up half way. I found that I
have to wear both in one ear in order for the balance to not be messed up. It’s kind of weird looking, but it works for
me. The thing that has really been the
hardest about the loss of my hearing is that I have a hard time having a
conversation in a crowd or hearing a person speaking at a distance in a crowded
room. Funny, I’m more comfortable in
front of a crowd than in the midst of one, at least up at the front I don’t
have to worry about what the other guy is saying.
Funny though it sounds, I think God blessed me through the
loss of my hearing. One of the first
things I had to do was to learn how to compensate in crowded situations. There were times when I would completely miss
someone saying something to me, even my wife, that couldn’t end up good. I found that the only way I could hear people
was to really focus on them. I had to be
looking straight at them, something I really didn’t do well. I have never been really good at paying
attention to people, always had too many things going in my head to much care
what others were saying… another thing that was bound to end poorly. I had to learn how to actually listen to
people; start to learn, I’m still learning.
Over the years I have gotten better at hearing conversations and voices
in crowds, not by concentrating harder on the sounds people make, but by
reading what their lips told me. That
has been a huge blessing for me, it’s taught me to clear away, if only for a
few short minutes, all the distractions in my head so that I can share an
unrepeatable moment with someone else.
Dear Father God… Thanks for the blessings on the side of my
head.
Friday, October 17, 2014
A Time for Giving Thanks
One of the songs that usually brings me to tears in my new life, my empathetic life, is a song by Todd Agnew entitled, "Still Here Waiting." The chorus recalls the fact that when the singer/writer finally turned around and stopped running toward the things he desired and started walking back toward God and the things He wanted for the sinner, that God was there, waiting with arms open, every time. It seems I spend a lot of time like the sinner in this song, walking purposely away from this God who wants to warmly cloth me in His blessings. I spend days and weeks walking angry at life around me ignoring God who is always there waiting quietly. Each time I catch a glimpse of Him through my anger fueled view of the world I am halted, forced to view myself as the worst of what I see in this world. I have had a few of those moments recently, each time catching a glimpse of the joy I could be enjoying instead of the blackness that fills me most days.
I read somewhere that purposely expressing thanks to someone each day is an easy way to change your outlook, though it takes persistence, making it a habit is the key. I am going to use these days leading up to Thanks Giving Day to poke a few holes in my attitude, letting a little light in. "How hard can it be?"
God forgive me... You have given me eyes with which I can see. I can see the glories of your hands. I daily look upon the master strokes of this world you have created. I am able to look at blessing after blessing that you have purposed to place in my life. All these things I do, and yet I choose to close my eyes to all of them and instead look at what appear to me as wrongs and mistakes. I look too often at the things sinful man has made of this world and I let my heart turn dark. Lord, help me to look for those things that you purpose for me. These eyes you have given me are not as clear as in years past, and maybe they have grown dim because of the darkness I have chose to fixate on. One thing I have noticed in the past few months is that I am forced to look more closely at things when I really want to see them, and I wonder if that is by design. Are you helping me to more closely attend to the people in my life? Thanks I give to you, as well as I can, for these eyes I have. Thanks for the glimpses of beauty that are still present around me though I have chosen to darken my view of things. Thank you, Lord, for giving me new opportunities to see You more clearly. Help me to be more aware of the blessings you have designed for my eyes to see.
I read somewhere that purposely expressing thanks to someone each day is an easy way to change your outlook, though it takes persistence, making it a habit is the key. I am going to use these days leading up to Thanks Giving Day to poke a few holes in my attitude, letting a little light in. "How hard can it be?"
God forgive me... You have given me eyes with which I can see. I can see the glories of your hands. I daily look upon the master strokes of this world you have created. I am able to look at blessing after blessing that you have purposed to place in my life. All these things I do, and yet I choose to close my eyes to all of them and instead look at what appear to me as wrongs and mistakes. I look too often at the things sinful man has made of this world and I let my heart turn dark. Lord, help me to look for those things that you purpose for me. These eyes you have given me are not as clear as in years past, and maybe they have grown dim because of the darkness I have chose to fixate on. One thing I have noticed in the past few months is that I am forced to look more closely at things when I really want to see them, and I wonder if that is by design. Are you helping me to more closely attend to the people in my life? Thanks I give to you, as well as I can, for these eyes I have. Thanks for the glimpses of beauty that are still present around me though I have chosen to darken my view of things. Thank you, Lord, for giving me new opportunities to see You more clearly. Help me to be more aware of the blessings you have designed for my eyes to see.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Hands
I was in the middle of communicating back and forth with my boss today. She sent out a reminder to the faculty about the up-coming "Take Your Child to Work" day. I shot back an off the cuff comment about how it's funny that day happens on a school day and not on one of the 100 plus days off from school. She wrote back, telling me about why the day was picked and how it had been switched to a day after the yearly testing, I felt she had taken my reply too seriously. So to that end I wrote back to her, thanking her for the extra info and pointing out that I was just pointing out a "funny." My boss is so great, and patient with me. She wrote back again, and as I was responding to her, I realized that I was writing about my dad, and that reminded me of how much I miss him.
My dad was in the mechanical service and food service industries for most of my life.
When ever I had a day off I was up at 0-dark-30 and out the door with him,
his helper for the day, loading trucks, moving crates in a warehouse,
climbing through dirty crawlspaces and dirtier attics… From the time I was
8 till I left for college, If I was not working at my own job or at school, I was
working with dad. The last thing I would have ever wanted as a kid was another day off.
I was too worn out from my last "day off" with dad. It was on those
days off, that I learned the most important thing about him; my dad worked hard.
To this day I remember his hands. As I picture them I am reminded of how hard my dad worked.
I had to stop and catch my emotions up for a minute. I lost my dad a little over 2 years ago, I did not grieve for my loss, for I knew he was a believer, but i am not sure that I ever took the time to really think about how much I missed him (and would miss him as time goes on). I wrote about my father once. I told about the things he taught me, that I knew because of him. I knew he loved my mother. Every day he greeted her with a hug and a kiss and a loving word. He made sure to tell me as a young man that nothing on this earth was as important to him as his wife, and I knew it to be true. He taught me that a man was supposed to have 2 qualities: constancy and honor. He taught me these traits daily in what he said and did, and in how these things agreed in how he lived. He also taught me a man had to be strong and how he must sacrifice for his family.
But I understand now that he taught me one lesson without ever saying a word. He taught me this lesson through his hands. My dad was a big man, 6'2", over 200 pounds. He had arms that were long and strong... but his hands... I remember when dad was laid out in his casket, the first thing I saw were his hands. I turned to my sister and said, "They got his hands right." She agreed. They looked hard, toughened by work, calloused and wrinkled by years of labor: my dad's hands. His hands were huge, probably a good 50 percent bigger than mine. My hands would disappear inside his when
he sat with me and held mine as we talked (I needed a lot of counseling as a kid). When he showed me how to work with the tools of his trades those hands were skillful, moving with gracefulness and purpose. When he tossed me in the air each night as I ran to greet him I was sure his strong hands would catch me. I can't remember a single time in my life that my dad's hands were anything but gentle toward those he loved. Yes, I was spanked at times, but never out of anger. Those huge, hard, calloused, mighty hands were always used for my good, no matter what.
Most of this doesn't make much sense, but that's okay, because I'm writing to myself today. What will my hands be remembered as by my children?
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Life...
For about 3 years I have been trying to fix my roof. Over that time we have had several reasons to postpone the job; lack of funds, oral surgery, dying drain fields. Well, finally, some very good friends brought the roof restoration to fruition. About 3 months ago 2 of them with extensive experience in building came to inspect my house and map out a plan. Over the next weeks materials were bought and several tries were made to plan a work day. Weather got in the way until today. Twelve caring brothers in Christ came out today to fix my roof. As the work began it was soon clear that there was no way we would get the work done today because there was much more wood rot than we thought. As more shingles came up, more and more wood rot raised its ugly head. What we thought would be replacing 3 to 4 sheets of plywood sheeting turned into almost a third of the roof surface.
I was nearly brought to tears as I walked about the property finding needed supplies and tools for the men who came to fix my house. First I was distraught at how bad the roof was and how much longer it would take to fix and how much more it would cost for materials, and how much harder these friends would have to work and how could I have let it go for so long, and how could I have been so ignorant of what was going on and and and a.... Then I was struck by how blessed I was, yeah, how blessed. With that much rot, there should have been water pouring into the house, but there wasn't. With that much damage I could have been looking at thousands more in repairs, but it wasn't. With that much damage this should have been so much worse... BUT IT WASN'T. Some might call it lucky, but I call it blessed. By that time I was just glad to be on the other side of the shop looking for an air line fitting. No one was there to hear me talking to God.
Now, sitting back n my chair, watching the Gator game, I realized the life analogy waiting to be written about my roof. So here goes. Life outside of God is like a rotting roof. From the outside and from a distance, it looks pretty good. Even when the owner knows there are a few problem areas, they can be easily covered up with sealers and tarps. You can put a few new shingles over the really weak spots, and if you avoid walking near them you can probably keep things under control. Our culture drives us to make sure to focus on how the outside looks because that's what others see. We can often ignore what's going on under the surface because everything seems so normal. Ignoring what really needs to be done will ultimately lead to collapse. Life outside of Christ can leave us ripe for a collapse.
Well the roof is now patched and about a third of the boards are in place to mount the metal. The whole thing is covered in a single large tarp, and I am sitting amazed at what God did today through the hands, backs and knees of 12 amazing guys. (Hmmmm, 12 guys.....)

Now, sitting back n my chair, watching the Gator game, I realized the life analogy waiting to be written about my roof. So here goes. Life outside of God is like a rotting roof. From the outside and from a distance, it looks pretty good. Even when the owner knows there are a few problem areas, they can be easily covered up with sealers and tarps. You can put a few new shingles over the really weak spots, and if you avoid walking near them you can probably keep things under control. Our culture drives us to make sure to focus on how the outside looks because that's what others see. We can often ignore what's going on under the surface because everything seems so normal. Ignoring what really needs to be done will ultimately lead to collapse. Life outside of Christ can leave us ripe for a collapse.
Well the roof is now patched and about a third of the boards are in place to mount the metal. The whole thing is covered in a single large tarp, and I am sitting amazed at what God did today through the hands, backs and knees of 12 amazing guys. (Hmmmm, 12 guys.....)
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