Hey friends. It took Kingdomrain.net a while but my Question & Answer section is finally being posted. Check it out. Drop me a question or two through the site and let me (and them) know what you think.
www.kingdomrain.net
Keep praying for me. Lot's of traveling these days, but marriage/family and my own little Vineyard tribe is where my heart is. Still God has been using the message of BNF to reach a lot of folks these days.
Book number two: Escaping Suburbia (or Wonderbra Spirituality) is trying to get published. It is in a holding pattern with NavPress right now. Not cuz they don't like it, but due to some internal production problems. Pray for release, please...
Grace and Peace my friends,
Eric
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Thursday, August 25, 2005
100 Huntley Street
Hey, I'm still waiting for the Kingdomrain.net site to post my new stuff. Sorry about the delay. In the meantime I thought you might think this is cool. I was on 100 Huntley Street last week. Follow the link if you want to catch the show. They use RealPlayer.
http://www.crossroads.ca/broadcas/program.htm
I pray you are well, my friends.
http://www.crossroads.ca/broadcas/program.htm
I pray you are well, my friends.
Monday, July 18, 2005
A shift of view
Hey friends,
Sorry it has been such a long time since I've posted. Honestly I've been doing some other writings. Here is one opportunity that I'm very excited about. The website www.kingdomrain.net will be hosting a somewhat weekly column of mine regarding culture and sexuality issues. It'll be called something like "Ask Dr. Eric". Pretty unique, huh. :-) So feel free to send them some questions that'll make this ol' sex professor squirm.
I have decided that I would rather devote my time to a website that is much more well rounded in what YOU can discover and learn and dialogue about. Blogsites can tend to be rather unidimensional (mine at least).
So surf over to www.kingdomrain.net and start looking for my column. Plus they have some great stuff on recovery issues, worship, leadership, and life...
Walk with peace. Walk in love. Walk with purpose, my friends.
Sorry it has been such a long time since I've posted. Honestly I've been doing some other writings. Here is one opportunity that I'm very excited about. The website www.kingdomrain.net will be hosting a somewhat weekly column of mine regarding culture and sexuality issues. It'll be called something like "Ask Dr. Eric". Pretty unique, huh. :-) So feel free to send them some questions that'll make this ol' sex professor squirm.
I have decided that I would rather devote my time to a website that is much more well rounded in what YOU can discover and learn and dialogue about. Blogsites can tend to be rather unidimensional (mine at least).
So surf over to www.kingdomrain.net and start looking for my column. Plus they have some great stuff on recovery issues, worship, leadership, and life...
Walk with peace. Walk in love. Walk with purpose, my friends.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Liquid Love
I was reflecting again on some great hereos of faith. I suppose Hebrews 11 does that to me. Take a guy like Charles G. Finney.
It is estimated that between 1857-58 over 100,000 people came to Christ as a result of his labors.
Over the course of his ministry it is estimated that over 500,000 people professed Christ at his tent meetings. Now's here's the kicker: it is reported that 80% of those "converts" remained faithful to God till death.
Where does a guy or gal tap into that type of power and annointing? Was it just from reading Olsteen's new book or some other self-help manual?
No, it seems Finney had an encounter with God like few of us have, but probably need...
Upon returning home after his conversion experience he writes in his journal:
“There was no fire, and no light, in the room; nevertheless it appeared to me as if it were perfectly light. As I went in and shut the door after me, it seemed as if I met the Lord Jesus Christ face to face. It did not occur to me then, nor did it for some time afterward, that it was wholly a mental state. On the contrary it seemed to me that I saw Him as I would see any other man. He said nothing, but looked at me in such a manner as to break me right down at His feet…I wept aloud like a child, and made such confession as I could with my child utterance. It seemed I bathed His feet with my tears; ad yet I had no distinct impression that I touched Him, that I recollect.
I must have continued in this state for a good while… I returned to the front office and found that the fire that I had made of large wood was nearly burned out. But as I turned and was about to take a seat by the fire, I received a mighty baptism of the Holy Ghost. Without any expectation of it, without ever having the thought in my mind that there was any such thing for me, without any recollection that I had ever heard the thing mentioned by any person in the world, the Holy Ghost descended on me in a manner that seemed to go through me, body and soul.
I could feel the impression, like a wave of electricity, going through and through me. Indeed it seemed to come in waves and waves of liquid love; for I could not express it in any other way. It seemed like the very breath of God. I can recollect distinctly that it seemed to fan me, like immense wings.
No words can express the wonderful love that was shed abroad in my heart. I wept aloud with joy and love; and I do not know but I should say, I literally bellowed out the unutterable gushings of my heart. The waves came over me, and over me, one after the other, until I recollect I cried out, ‘I shall die if these waves continue to pass over me.’ I said, ‘Lord, I cannot bear any more;’ yet I had no fear of death.”
Wow... Lord I want to experience your presence in such a profound way that it changes the way I walk, talk, and interact with this life I live.
It is estimated that between 1857-58 over 100,000 people came to Christ as a result of his labors.
Over the course of his ministry it is estimated that over 500,000 people professed Christ at his tent meetings. Now's here's the kicker: it is reported that 80% of those "converts" remained faithful to God till death.
Where does a guy or gal tap into that type of power and annointing? Was it just from reading Olsteen's new book or some other self-help manual?
No, it seems Finney had an encounter with God like few of us have, but probably need...
Upon returning home after his conversion experience he writes in his journal:
“There was no fire, and no light, in the room; nevertheless it appeared to me as if it were perfectly light. As I went in and shut the door after me, it seemed as if I met the Lord Jesus Christ face to face. It did not occur to me then, nor did it for some time afterward, that it was wholly a mental state. On the contrary it seemed to me that I saw Him as I would see any other man. He said nothing, but looked at me in such a manner as to break me right down at His feet…I wept aloud like a child, and made such confession as I could with my child utterance. It seemed I bathed His feet with my tears; ad yet I had no distinct impression that I touched Him, that I recollect.
I must have continued in this state for a good while… I returned to the front office and found that the fire that I had made of large wood was nearly burned out. But as I turned and was about to take a seat by the fire, I received a mighty baptism of the Holy Ghost. Without any expectation of it, without ever having the thought in my mind that there was any such thing for me, without any recollection that I had ever heard the thing mentioned by any person in the world, the Holy Ghost descended on me in a manner that seemed to go through me, body and soul.
I could feel the impression, like a wave of electricity, going through and through me. Indeed it seemed to come in waves and waves of liquid love; for I could not express it in any other way. It seemed like the very breath of God. I can recollect distinctly that it seemed to fan me, like immense wings.
No words can express the wonderful love that was shed abroad in my heart. I wept aloud with joy and love; and I do not know but I should say, I literally bellowed out the unutterable gushings of my heart. The waves came over me, and over me, one after the other, until I recollect I cried out, ‘I shall die if these waves continue to pass over me.’ I said, ‘Lord, I cannot bear any more;’ yet I had no fear of death.”
Wow... Lord I want to experience your presence in such a profound way that it changes the way I walk, talk, and interact with this life I live.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Online interview with Brian Orme
Recently Brian Orme posted an online interview with the author of Buck Naked Faith... oh, that's me. Cool. Anyway, I thought you may enjoy reading it and then surfing around his blog a bit. He is a great thinker, writer, and follower of Christ. Enjoy, and then post a comment or two here or there.
http://deeper.typepad.com/deeper/2005/04/buck_naked_fait.html
http://deeper.typepad.com/deeper/2005/04/buck_naked_fait.html
Monday, April 18, 2005
Kudzu and the Kingdom of God
At times I wonder if my prayers get above the ceiling, if I have any influence in my city, if the church makes any real difference in the community, if faith is anything more than wishful thinking. But then I remember that by its very nature the Kingdom of God HAS to grow.
All of us have to deal with discouragement from time to time. So did Jesus' disciples. When Jesus sensed that their morale was down, he told three parables that are recorded in the thirteenth chapter of Matthew.
---Those parables tell us that the Kingdom of God has something in common with kudzu, the unofficial state flower of Mississippi.
In fact, some folks credit kudzu with having preventing the whole state of Mississippi from being washed down the river.
For the sake of you who may be new to the south, let me explain that kudzu is that leafy vine that you often see growing up telephone poles or covering little valleys down here. If they ever find a commercial use for the stuff, the South will surely rise again.
Nothing can grow like kudzu. It is the only plant whose growth is measured in miles per hour. You remember the story of Jack and the Beanstalk? That was no beanstalk; it was a kudzu stem.
--- The best way to plant kudzu is to throw it over your shoulder and run. It's important to plant kudzu at the right time.
Always do it at night. If you do it in broad daylight, your neighbors will take you to court.
Here are some cool websites that explore the wonders of Kudzu!
http://www.cptr.ua.edu/kudzu/
http://www.hower.org/Kudzu/Kudzu/index.iwp
We Christians are part of a kudzu-kind of kingdom. When we are faithful and walking in our callings, God blesses his kingdom with prodigious growth and transforming influence.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Clean Blood
Hey friends here's one of my favorite Easter stories...
CLEAN BLOOD: The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. It's not influenza, but three or four fellows are dead, and it's kind of interesting.
They're sending some doctors over there to investigate it. You don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say it's not three or four villagers, it's 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you getup, it's the lead story. For it's not just India; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu". The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?" That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen. That night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English: "There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. "It has come to Europe. Panic strikes. As best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week and you don't know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die.
Britain closes it's borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, and it's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing."
Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about what if it comes to this country, and preachers on Tuesday are saying, "It's the scourge of God." It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio." While the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made," Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu."
Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.
Then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: "Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals."
Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line, and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home."
You stand around scared with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on, and that this is the end of the world. Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute, hold it!" And they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type."
Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine."
As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying.
But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and we need we need you to sign a consent form."
You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-how many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!"
"But but..."
"You don't understand. We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We - we need it all - we need it all!"
"But can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?" In numb silence you do. Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?"
Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Can you take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you, and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?"
And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've - we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying."
Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Why - why have you forsaken me?"
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care.
Would you want to jump up and say, "MY SON DIED! DON'T YOU CARE?" Isn't that what God is saying? "MY SON DIED. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?" "Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we begin to comprehend the great love you have for us. Amen " Author Anonymous
May you reflect and rejoice in Abba's love for your this week.
Eric
CLEAN BLOOD: The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. It's not influenza, but three or four fellows are dead, and it's kind of interesting.
They're sending some doctors over there to investigate it. You don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say it's not three or four villagers, it's 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you getup, it's the lead story. For it's not just India; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu". The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?" That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen. That night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English: "There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. "It has come to Europe. Panic strikes. As best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week and you don't know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die.
Britain closes it's borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, and it's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing."
Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about what if it comes to this country, and preachers on Tuesday are saying, "It's the scourge of God." It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio." While the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made," Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu."
Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.
Then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: "Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals."
Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line, and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home."
You stand around scared with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on, and that this is the end of the world. Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute, hold it!" And they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type."
Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine."
As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying.
But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and we need we need you to sign a consent form."
You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-how many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!"
"But but..."
"You don't understand. We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We - we need it all - we need it all!"
"But can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?" In numb silence you do. Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?"
Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Can you take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you, and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?"
And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've - we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying."
Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Why - why have you forsaken me?"
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care.
Would you want to jump up and say, "MY SON DIED! DON'T YOU CARE?" Isn't that what God is saying? "MY SON DIED. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?" "Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we begin to comprehend the great love you have for us. Amen " Author Anonymous
May you reflect and rejoice in Abba's love for your this week.
Eric
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Stanley Grenz 1950-2005
Stan Grenz passed away early in the morning March 12, 2005-- 24 hours after suffering a massive brain hemhorrage. He will be greatly missed by us all. There are lives, such as his, that influence a generation. I will forever be thankful for Stan's impact on my understanding of the Kingdom, but even more so for helping me fall more in love with my heavenly father.
Enjoy Abba, my friend. Eric
Enjoy Abba, my friend. Eric
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Contemplative Prayer... something old... something new
Recently a web friend submitted this question to me... It sounded like a great question to get other people's feedback on.
******
Dear Eric Sandras,
Recently I have been exposed to some articles written in regards to a new movement among evagelicals called contemplative prayer. According to these articles it is being pushed strongly in so-called "Emergent Churches" headed by such men as Brian McLaren. I am just curious as to your position on this new movement, and if, you use this in your church. If you do, or are in support of it, would you mind passing on a description of what exactly it is and some biblical support of it. I am trying to wrap my mind around what many call an excellent way to commune with God and what some others say is nothing more than eastern mysticism and occultic practices invading the church. If you could offer some insight on this it would be greatly appreciated... Thanks for your time.
Your Brother in Christ,
Jon
******
Dear Eric Sandras,
Recently I have been exposed to some articles written in regards to a new movement among evagelicals called contemplative prayer. According to these articles it is being pushed strongly in so-called "Emergent Churches" headed by such men as Brian McLaren. I am just curious as to your position on this new movement, and if, you use this in your church. If you do, or are in support of it, would you mind passing on a description of what exactly it is and some biblical support of it. I am trying to wrap my mind around what many call an excellent way to commune with God and what some others say is nothing more than eastern mysticism and occultic practices invading the church. If you could offer some insight on this it would be greatly appreciated... Thanks for your time.
Your Brother in Christ,
Jon
***
Contemplative prayer, as I see it, is a mix of something old and something new. It's beauty is a new awareness and practice of some of the most powerful spiritual disciplines that have been practiced in the church throughout history. There are many styles and variations on the theme, but at its heart is to create space to listen to and receive from our heavenly Father.
The other day I walked into my son Carter's room because he wanted me to build card houses on his floor with him. In trying to do so I sat on a Spiderman action figure and crushed a matchbox car under my foot. In pain and frustration I asked him to clear some space on his floor for me, if he really wanted me to sit down with him. He wanted to spend time with his Dad in a bad way, so he did clean his floor. On any other day I'd have to threaten to punish him to get him to clean it. Then it hit me...
There are times in my life that I really want to spend time with Jesus, but he needs me to clear some space in my cluttered mind and life. Contemplative prayer makes that "space cleaning" a discipline or habit. Most ANY spiritual discipline can be used for non-Biblical reasons as well. The main point is what is our motivation?
For me, sometimes lighting some candles, opening one of my 1850's versions Bibles, and reading in silence is just to create space. I have some native friends who use the tradition of the sweat lodge to do the same thing. We just want to connect with our Father in heaven.
Richard Foster's "Celebration of Discipline" is a great book that explores some ancient disciplines for a new generation. Many of the servant leaders at Church of the Savior in Washington, D.C. are living examples of building a contemplative lifestyle into hardcore ministry.
I'd love to read some of your examples of contemplative prayer practices or how you "create space" in your life to play or pray with God...
Peace to you.
Monday, February 28, 2005
The Dogmatics of Aluminum Foil
I sometimes marvel at Jesus' patience with the dogmatism and intolerance of the religious leaders. They argued about inconsequential matters and made people follow laws that they themselves could not keep. It is this patience of Jesus and his ability to speak truth and life into situations-- despite his anger and frustration that amazes me. His example keeps me humbly asking for more grace to live the life that he offers.
In Luke 20 the religious posers are arguing with Jesus, asking him about marriage in heaven. What is so obvious in this scene is that it's a set up. They don't even believe in heaven, the afterlife and resurrection. They're just asking these questions to trip Jesus up and Jesus sees their trivial behavior so plainly.
Let me give you a little illustration from the realm of cooking. Ask any great cook about aluminum foil and you're bound to get an opinion on which side is "best." Some swear the shiny side must always be on the outside of a baked potato, while others condemn such nonsense and emphatically claim exactly the opposite.
Meanwhile, the manufacturer stays amused and gives a good lesson in dogmatism and tolerance.
When foil is made, it is rolled. One side of the foil gets shiny because it comes in contact with the heavy roller. The other side stays dull because it never makes contact with the roller. Both sides produce the same results!
Still many a family has become divided over the "shiny side out" dogmatism. Thanksgiving celebrations have been ruined and mother-in-laws left in shambles as the debate has raged on. In the meantime the foil is left in the cupboard, and the potatoes are left to rot because young emerging cooks are afraid to risk and possibly turn the wrong side out... So sad, so sad...
Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit... But I'm sure that's how Abba looks at some of the petty arguments we get into in church life. I'm sure he looks at us, sighs, and says, "Just bake the potato!"
In Luke 20 the religious posers are arguing with Jesus, asking him about marriage in heaven. What is so obvious in this scene is that it's a set up. They don't even believe in heaven, the afterlife and resurrection. They're just asking these questions to trip Jesus up and Jesus sees their trivial behavior so plainly.
Let me give you a little illustration from the realm of cooking. Ask any great cook about aluminum foil and you're bound to get an opinion on which side is "best." Some swear the shiny side must always be on the outside of a baked potato, while others condemn such nonsense and emphatically claim exactly the opposite.
Meanwhile, the manufacturer stays amused and gives a good lesson in dogmatism and tolerance.
When foil is made, it is rolled. One side of the foil gets shiny because it comes in contact with the heavy roller. The other side stays dull because it never makes contact with the roller. Both sides produce the same results!
Still many a family has become divided over the "shiny side out" dogmatism. Thanksgiving celebrations have been ruined and mother-in-laws left in shambles as the debate has raged on. In the meantime the foil is left in the cupboard, and the potatoes are left to rot because young emerging cooks are afraid to risk and possibly turn the wrong side out... So sad, so sad...
Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit... But I'm sure that's how Abba looks at some of the petty arguments we get into in church life. I'm sure he looks at us, sighs, and says, "Just bake the potato!"
Monday, February 14, 2005
A glimpse into my next book...
I've received a few emails asking if and when I will have a second book out. Well, I just finished writing the first draft last week! Of course that means that it goes to an editor at NavPress for an overhaul and rework. But I thought I'd share a bit with you. This section comes out of the chapter on "Doubt and Discouragement". Tell me what you think. Just be gentle, I'm fragile. :-)
*****
Jesus and Grover Together
As the steam dissipated from the mirror, I found myself gazing at someone whom I wasn’t sure I knew. I stood there repeatedly asking myself the same question, “Are you even saved?” The guy in the mirror had a freshly shaved face, a couple shiny new earrings, and thanks to his new Sonic Care toothbrush—some pearly white teeth. But underneath the cutting edge emergent pastor look there was a seemingly sewer pipe full of doubt bringing a stench to my spiritual air.
This was a real bad way to start a Sunday morning. I stood there looking into my own eyes and I couldn’t honestly say that I truly believed anymore. Today God felt like an imaginary friend. My son had his stuffed Grover doll, my daughter had her Polly Pockets, and I had Jesus. My kids could invite 3 or 4 friends over to play house or Sesame Street and I thought that was cute. But in 2 hours, I was inviting 200 friends over to play church—and that stressed me out. I felt like a total poser. Like agent Muldar of the X-files, I cried out, “I want to believe!”
Maybe my mind had just been playing tricks on me all these years. This morning God seemed so distant—so make-believe. And here I was promoting my own version of a Wonder-bra spirituality. I was trying hard to prop of my externals so that no one would notice the fear and unbelief brewing within.
Now don’t get me wrong. I was sincere. At least this morning I sincerely wanted to be sincere. Actually, I sincerely wanted to be sincere about my sincerity. Maybe that’s why this whole faith and doubt thing was getting so complex. I was becoming as complex spiritually as toddlers become pretendingly, if that’s even a word.
Follow me here for a moment. What we look at in toddlerhood as simple pretend play is actually a progression of some amazingly complex brain power. Watch a two year old play and you’ll notice they have an incredible ability to pretend they are something else—“I’m a kitty (meow)… I’m a bear (grrr)… I’m a fireman (woo, wooo) etc.” Pretty straight forward pretending—I pretend to be someone or something else.
Then toddlers take an intellectual leap. Soon they can take an inanimate object (like a doll) and pretend to talk to it and have it talk back. Yep, now I’m not only the one involved in pretending, but I get an object to pretend with me. Or give a kid a toy gun and suddenly he is pretend shooting at every moving object that walks by. But the complexity continues…
****
Okay, so there is a piece. What do ya think?
*****
Jesus and Grover Together
As the steam dissipated from the mirror, I found myself gazing at someone whom I wasn’t sure I knew. I stood there repeatedly asking myself the same question, “Are you even saved?” The guy in the mirror had a freshly shaved face, a couple shiny new earrings, and thanks to his new Sonic Care toothbrush—some pearly white teeth. But underneath the cutting edge emergent pastor look there was a seemingly sewer pipe full of doubt bringing a stench to my spiritual air.
This was a real bad way to start a Sunday morning. I stood there looking into my own eyes and I couldn’t honestly say that I truly believed anymore. Today God felt like an imaginary friend. My son had his stuffed Grover doll, my daughter had her Polly Pockets, and I had Jesus. My kids could invite 3 or 4 friends over to play house or Sesame Street and I thought that was cute. But in 2 hours, I was inviting 200 friends over to play church—and that stressed me out. I felt like a total poser. Like agent Muldar of the X-files, I cried out, “I want to believe!”
Maybe my mind had just been playing tricks on me all these years. This morning God seemed so distant—so make-believe. And here I was promoting my own version of a Wonder-bra spirituality. I was trying hard to prop of my externals so that no one would notice the fear and unbelief brewing within.
Now don’t get me wrong. I was sincere. At least this morning I sincerely wanted to be sincere. Actually, I sincerely wanted to be sincere about my sincerity. Maybe that’s why this whole faith and doubt thing was getting so complex. I was becoming as complex spiritually as toddlers become pretendingly, if that’s even a word.
Follow me here for a moment. What we look at in toddlerhood as simple pretend play is actually a progression of some amazingly complex brain power. Watch a two year old play and you’ll notice they have an incredible ability to pretend they are something else—“I’m a kitty (meow)… I’m a bear (grrr)… I’m a fireman (woo, wooo) etc.” Pretty straight forward pretending—I pretend to be someone or something else.
Then toddlers take an intellectual leap. Soon they can take an inanimate object (like a doll) and pretend to talk to it and have it talk back. Yep, now I’m not only the one involved in pretending, but I get an object to pretend with me. Or give a kid a toy gun and suddenly he is pretend shooting at every moving object that walks by. But the complexity continues…
****
Okay, so there is a piece. What do ya think?
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Life's a test
Life's a test - and you're graded on a curve
At age 4, success is...not peeing in your pants.
...At age 12, success is...having friends.
......At age 16, success is...having a driver's license.
.........At age 20, success is...having sex.
............At age 35, success is...having money.
............At age 50, success is...having money.
.........At age 60, success is...having sex.
......At age 70, success is...having a driver's license.
...At age 75, success is...having friends.
At age 90, success is...not peeing in your pants.
On second thought I'd follow the advice of the old cliche, "Prepare for your finals: Read your Bible."
Have a great day!
At age 4, success is...not peeing in your pants.
...At age 12, success is...having friends.
......At age 16, success is...having a driver's license.
.........At age 20, success is...having sex.
............At age 35, success is...having money.
............At age 50, success is...having money.
.........At age 60, success is...having sex.
......At age 70, success is...having a driver's license.
...At age 75, success is...having friends.
At age 90, success is...not peeing in your pants.
On second thought I'd follow the advice of the old cliche, "Prepare for your finals: Read your Bible."
Have a great day!
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
9 Steps to third world living
I'm not sure where I picked this up. It was awhile back after returning from a trip to Brazil. But in a western culture where our stressful decisions often revolve around whether to get a Mocha, Chia, or triple skinny no foam decaf sugar free caramel latte. It is a good reminder to be thankful AND to pay God's goodness in our lives forward.
9 Steps to Third World Living
First, take out the furniture: leave a few old blankets, a kitchen table, maybe a wooden chair. You've never had a bed, remember?
Second, throw out your clothes. Each person in the family may keep the oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. The head of the family has the only pair of shoes.
Third, all kitchen appliances have vanished. Keep a box of matches, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt, a handful of onions, a dish of dried beans. Rescue the moldy potatoes from the garbage can: those are tonight's meal.
Fourth, dismantle the bathroom, shut off the running water, take out the wiring and the lights and everything that runs by electricity.
Fifth, take away the house and move the family into the tool shed.
Sixth, no more postman, fireman, government services. The two-classroom school is three miles away, but only two of your seven children attend anyway, and they walk.
Seventh, throw out your bankbooks, stock certificates, pension plans, insurance policies. You now have a cash hoard of $5.
Eighth, get out and start cultivating your three acres. Try hard to raise $300 in cash crops because your landlord wants one third and your moneylender 10 percent.
Ninth, find some way for your children to bring in a little extra money so you have something to eat most days. But it won't be enough to keep bodies healthy--so lop off 25 to 30 years of life.
Geez... I can't even get my kid's to bring me the remote...
9 Steps to Third World Living
First, take out the furniture: leave a few old blankets, a kitchen table, maybe a wooden chair. You've never had a bed, remember?
Second, throw out your clothes. Each person in the family may keep the oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. The head of the family has the only pair of shoes.
Third, all kitchen appliances have vanished. Keep a box of matches, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt, a handful of onions, a dish of dried beans. Rescue the moldy potatoes from the garbage can: those are tonight's meal.
Fourth, dismantle the bathroom, shut off the running water, take out the wiring and the lights and everything that runs by electricity.
Fifth, take away the house and move the family into the tool shed.
Sixth, no more postman, fireman, government services. The two-classroom school is three miles away, but only two of your seven children attend anyway, and they walk.
Seventh, throw out your bankbooks, stock certificates, pension plans, insurance policies. You now have a cash hoard of $5.
Eighth, get out and start cultivating your three acres. Try hard to raise $300 in cash crops because your landlord wants one third and your moneylender 10 percent.
Ninth, find some way for your children to bring in a little extra money so you have something to eat most days. But it won't be enough to keep bodies healthy--so lop off 25 to 30 years of life.
Geez... I can't even get my kid's to bring me the remote...
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Finish what you've started
I am passing this on to you because it definitely worked for me and we all could use more calm in our lives. By following the simple advice I heard on a Dr. Phil show or Dr. Laura or Dr. Ruth... I can't remember whose show now. Anyway, I have finally found inner peace.
The Dr. proclaimed that the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you've started. I didn't finish watching the show, but decided to follow such profound advice. I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished. So, before leaving the house this morning I finished off a bottle of Merlot, and a bottle of Bailey's, a package of Oreos, the remainder of a Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some saltines and a box of twinkies.
You have no idea how freaking good I feel. ;-) Hmmm... maybe the Master I should be following is Jesus.
The Dr. proclaimed that the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you've started. I didn't finish watching the show, but decided to follow such profound advice. I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished. So, before leaving the house this morning I finished off a bottle of Merlot, and a bottle of Bailey's, a package of Oreos, the remainder of a Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some saltines and a box of twinkies.
You have no idea how freaking good I feel. ;-) Hmmm... maybe the Master I should be following is Jesus.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Tsunami observations
Has anyone noticed a marked difference in the amount of "spiritual" coverage of the tsunami tragedy than there was after 9/11? It seems that much of America was asking questions of faith and trying to find spiritual answers after the 9/11 attacks (at least as the news covered it), but I have seen very little in comparison after the much larger tragic events of the tsunami.
Just got me pondering why that may be. I'd love to hear your insights or just to have you tell me I've been watching the wrong stations...
In the meantime, don't fall into sloppy Christian rhetoric when the discussions come up in your circles of influence. Wisdom is right there beside you.
Just got me pondering why that may be. I'd love to hear your insights or just to have you tell me I've been watching the wrong stations...
In the meantime, don't fall into sloppy Christian rhetoric when the discussions come up in your circles of influence. Wisdom is right there beside you.
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