Acting and Hoping

Here’s a great Eugene Peterson quote from A Long Obedience in the Same Direction-

We live in what one writer has called the ‘age of sensation.’ We think that if we don’t feel something there can be no authenticity in doing it. But the wisdom of God says something different: that we can act ourselves into a new way of feeling much quicker than we can feel ourselves into a new way of acting.

Do you agree or disagree? Act into feel or feel into act?
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One of my workout partner’s son’s 17yr old friend died in a car accident over the weekend. Deeply moved by the death of a teenager, especially because it caused him (and all of us for that matter) to come to grips with our own children’s mortality, asked something along the lines of “How can you make any sense of this?” He and another friend turned and looked at Luke the Pastor.

“No words can make this seem right. But words like ‘hope’ help. Hope that God will one day make this all right.”

What would you have said?

Life in the Storm

Elie Wiesel in Souls on Fire refers to a Jewish parable that has been meaningful to me.
Here is my version-

Two travelers get lost on a journey in the midst of a storm. The darkness impairs their ability to see their path in front of them and the rain makes each step precarious. But there are brief moments when they can see. Each time the boom of thunder shakes the forest it foreshadows a brief flash of visibility. The fool stares up at the redoubtable lightning. The wise man on the other hand doesn’t look up, but looks ahead. He looks at the path in front of him that is briefly illuminated by the lightning.

In moments when we seem lost on our journey, we can either stare up at the storm overhead that has created the muddy mess that bogs us down. Or we can use the lightning for the brief illumination that it is. In those flashes we get to see our character, which often gets masked by the comfort of sunny weather. We can peer into where our current steps are leading us and where our next step really needs to be.

Flood and Valentine's Day

As Lindsay was driving home from work talking to me on her cell, she scream. She then explained that a car next to her made a wrong turn into a flooded ditch next to the mall. I think this is that car.
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One of my favorite people in Panama City, found himself across the pond in Afghanistan for Valentine's day a few years ago. When you are a pilot in the US Air Force you just assume that you will not be getting off of work to be with your wife on Valentine's Day. So this pilot decided to give out a little different Valentine's gift for his wife, Tammy.

As his plane was being loaded with bombs he got out a sharpie and brushed off his poetic skills and wrote on the bombs:

"Dear Osama,
Happy Valentine's Day
Love, Tammy"

I know some people display love in unique ways, but that is pretty different.

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This same pilot a few days later flew the same trip and instead of dropping bombs, he was dropping relief. That has to feel weird.

fairy tale and a nightmare

Here's a Frederick Buechner quote about fairy tales-

“We send scientific expeditions to Loch Ness because if the dark and monstrous side of fairy tales can be proved to exist, who can be sure that the blessed side doesn’t exist, too? I suspect that the whole obsession of our time with the monstrous in general- with the occult and the demonic, with exorcism and black magic and the great white shark- is at its heart only the shadow side of our longing for the beautiful…”


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I just had an awful meeting with a couple deciding to get a divorce. The phrase, "Reconciliation is not possible" is a painful pill to swallow. Ironically a tornado touched down not too far from my office while we were meeting, but it was no surprise that the darkness outside my office because of the storm was exceeded by the darkness inside my office because of the lack of reconciliation.

Random Thoughts

I think “The Shack” was a good book. My favorite thought in the book was the comparison of the work of the Holy Spirit to a fractal. It looks like a mess up close, but when you step back you see the beautiful picture.

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I think that my taste buds are coming back to work. When I was sick last week nothing tasted right or even good, including my beloved Subway. I think that’s true when we are not being the type of people that we were created to be too. When we have a selfishness infection, giving isn’t that appealing. Sometimes our taste buds or our desires are examples of just how far off of the mark we are.

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I think that the upcoming NFL combine is more exciting than NBA basketball and NASCAR.

“What I meant to say was…”

This last week I have been almost completely worthless because of a nice fever and an ear infection. Don’t tell Jesus, but I have drunk some juice in order to get some Vitamin C. I am pretty sure he will not mind. Watching Roger Clemens getting grilled by the Democrats and worshiped by the Republicans on Wednesday was almost as bad as the fever.
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The wedding last Saturday started a few minutes late, but the nerves of the bride had showed up promptly for the rehearsal dinner and continued through the next day until the wedding started. The nervous bride, dressed in white, walked down the isle on the arm of her step-dad towards the front of the sanctuary where her excited groom met her.
They walked up the stairs to the stage where we began the service. As I began my sermon I made a comment along the lines of how it seemed that not too long ago they met at the bride’s place of work.

The entire audience erupted in laughter, and I was confused. I began backtracking trying to figure out what I had said. And then I realized the source of the humor.

I had said, “It seems like just a few weeks ago that you met for the first time at the Holiday Inn.”

As I tried to explain how she was a manager at Holiday Inn, I noticed that my snafu alleviated the bride’s nerves.

Two Tales

Here are two stories of people who made up lies that have been stuck in my head for the last few days. One is a high school football player struggling with life when he doesn't get to live his dream. The other is a story of a someone just trying to live.

From ESPN
A northern Nevada prep football player who had claimed he was duped into believing he was recruited to play at a Pac-10 school admitted Wednesday he made up the story. Kevin Hart, a 6-foot-5, 290-pound offensive lineman for Fernley High School, offered a broad apology in a statement he issued through the Lyon County School District. Hart said he had wanted to play football at a Division I school "more than anything." "When I realized that wasn't going to happen, I made up what I wanted to be reality. I am sorry for disappointing and embarrassing my family, coaches, Fernley High School, the involved universities and reporters covering the story," Hart said.

From "Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust" as printed in Peter Rollins' "How (Not) to Speak of God"

On 25 September 1941, after all the Jews of Eiskysky and the nearby towns had been rounded up, the 4,000 captives were led to the horse market. In groups of 250 they were taken to the old Jewish cemetery and ordered to undress in front of a line of open ditches. (All this was done under the watch and encouragement of local people.) The leader of the executions, Ostrovakas, dressed in a white apron and gloves, personally supervised the killing, reserving the right to murder the town’s leaders and practice sharp-shooting on the children.
On that dark day Michalowsky and his 16-year-old son Zvi stood shivering before the open graves. Zvi spent those moments counting the bullets and the amount of time that elapsed between each volley of fire. This meant that a split second before the shots ripped into him, he was able to go limp and fall into the ditch.He waited for what seemed an eternity as more bodies piled on top of him. He struggled to breathe among the corpses, gagging on the river of blood and the smell of dead flesh.
Very early on 26 September, in the dead of night, he struggled from the grave, all the time listening to the festivities that were still going on in the distance. It seemed that most of the village was out singing, laughing and rejoicing at the massacre. At the far end of the cemetery, near a huge church, Zvi knew of some Christian families and so he approached them still naked and covered in blood. He knocked on the first door. After a few moments the door opened and a peasant woman whom he knew, holding a lamp, looked out. Zvi recognized that the lamp was Jewish and had been pillaged from the empty homes of his community. He pleaded with the woman, saying ‘please let me in.’ But she only shook her fist and said, ‘Go back to the grave where you belong, Jew.’
Zvi tried some other houses but the response was the same. Finally he decided to visit a Christian widow, who lived at the edge of the village near a forest. The old woman answered the door to Zvi holding a small piece of burning wood. ‘Please let me in,’ he begged, but the woman raised the stick and waved it at him wildly, as if warding away a demon, saying, ‘you belong in the cemetery, Jew.’ But Zvi stood firm and replied, ‘Do you not recognize me? I am your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I have come down from the cross to visit you. Look at my blood, my suffering, my innocence. Do not disown me.’ The widow dropped onto her knees and crossed herself before kissing his blood-stained feet. All she could say was ‘My God, my God.’ as she led him into the house. He stayed there for three days and three nights before finally setting out. He made her promise to tell no one about his visit, not even the priest. Before he left she provided him with warm food, fresh clothes and cold water for the journey. Zvi survived and began the Jewish partisan movement in the vicinity of Eiskysky.
While Zvi lied in order to survive, in lying he told the most profound truth of all. For in Zvi, the Messiah did visit that woman.

Ash Wednesday

I joined my friend and Episcopalian priest for an Ash Wednesday service tonight. With the ashes from the palm branches they used in their Palm Sunday service of 07 I was reminded that I am from dust and to dust I will return. After the service, one of the other priests who (like me) has a churches of Christ background asked me if I was confused. This year I think I could honestly say I wasn’t too confused. Though their worship service does differ from than my tradition and my preferences, I love the simple phrase which drew me to their service. “From dust you came, and to dust you will return.”

This year for Lent I will be drinking only water and milk (along w/ meal replacement/ protein shakes which are not really drinks) and at 2pm praying from Psalm 42, “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?” It seems silly to give up Gatorade and orange juice for Jesus, but when I get done working in the yard in the humid Florida heat or lifting weights I am going to crave some Gatorade. Those thirsts will remind me of a greater thirst I have for Jesus which will be finally fulfilled when I return to dust.