The Way of the Heart

Turn Around

2011-12-21T08:51:00.000-08:00

Today is December 21. It's the first day of winter. But it's also the day the sun “turns around.” The winter solstice (for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere) is that day when our perspective of the sun sees it at the lowest arc in the sky. The sun peeked over the horizon this morning (at exactly 7:10 Poole Ranch time) at it's most southern point for rising.

For me, today is good news. Every day now until late June, the sunrise will occur north of every previous day. It's a promise of gradually warming weather. It's the promise of spring, and, of course, summer.

Today symbolizes a kind of redemption we all secretly hope for. Up till now nature has been hunkering down for winter. Winds are always cold now and almost always from the north. The pasture has turned brown. The trees and shrubs have gone dormant. That really won't change much for another three months. But today is the promise. Grass will eventually turn green. Winds will start coming from the south in April. Daffodils will push up through the snow. Wild lilies will bloom.


Brook with the Original Barn in July 2010

It's been a long haul for us since the sun “turned around” back in June and headed south. We added onto our barn three times this summer and fall and expanded our covered square footage from 144 to 1,296 to make room for more horses. But our plans took a painful turn when we lost our beloved Brook, Johanna's horse that we've had since the day of the summer solstice in 2010. Her aching joints, bad teeth and an increasingly chronic esophageal weakness left her often irritable, unable to keep on weight and in daily danger of choking. We laid her to rest on October 28.

When we planned to build the barn, we set aside a special stall that we would use for Brook (the stall area of the original barn space built in July 2010). We planned to “retire” her, reserving her only for entertaining the smallest of children, and letting her live out a few more years in peace and comfort. But now her planned stall is empty of her presence. It's filled with soul-less boxes, lumber, barrels and tack. We weren't able to let her retire. And now our barn needs redemption. It stands unable to fulfill one of the primary purposes for which we hoped to have it built.

Final addition to the barn, November 2011

Each morning when I feed the other horses, our sweet Belle and our friends' dear mare, Jubilee, I still grieve. I look at that empty stall and struggle. When the chores are done, I kneel in the sunlight streaming in through the stall doors in the first light of every morning and ask God for redemption. I ask Him to bring that stall back into some treasured use. I ask Him to bless us, our children and our friends the way He did with Brook.

But I pray for more than that because I know my barn is also a symbol the story of life all of us live in. Since we were young we carefully planned and built little shelters for our dreams. We carefully organized our hopes and tried to make the decisions we really thought were right. But since I've hit the mid-life thing when I turned 40 a few years back, I've had the increasing sensation that the “sun was going south” on those dreams. I've looked at the unavoidable reality of those stalls of my heart and realized that some of the structures I've built cannot function to protect those empty places in my heart.
With my knees in the dirt of the barn floor, I've started to pray for those places in my heart as well. In the context of 43 ½ years of choices and decisions (many of which I seriously question the integrity of) I realize how much my heart-space needs redemption.

Finished barn with Belle (foreground) and Jubilee

And today, more than I have in a long time, I hope for the return of warm places to my soul. I feel a little revival of a hope for dreams. I have a feeling for hope that the rhythms of nature's seasons really do predict the rhythms of an honest soul; that redemption from my poor decisions and restoration for what I've lost or let die or euthanized will actually happen. I'm letting hope rise just a little that maybe the 2nd half of my life (if I'm blessed to live it out) will hold more redemption than the 1st half has. That there will come a time in the near future when I will feel the summer south winds blow again and see new and genuine life in the stalls of my heart that have been empty for a long time.

Today I remember the words of a Father's promise: “While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, Cold and heat, Winter and summer, And day and night Shall not cease.” - Genesis 8.22

I hope you will enjoy the winter solstice with me today.

Johanna with Brook on the day of her last ride

Empty Gas Stations and Priceless Glory

2011-12-02T10:06:00.001-08:00

It is night. Not late, but dark. And it's cold, about 20 degrees.

Ok, if you're from Alaska, your mocking me at my “20 degrees”. But you need to understand that we've seen temps in the mid '60's in the last week.

The gas station is empty when I pull in. It's so empty I look around and wonder if it's open. It takes me a couple minutes sitting in the car to get my debit card out and gloves and hat on in preparation for a full 6 minutes outside. One other car pulls in a couple islands down. There are people out and about. I see cars going by on the road. But the cold is driving them home without any stops. I run my card in the scanner and start to pump the fuel.

The light snow and wind are coming around the gas islands and overhead porch from the south. I turn my back to it and pull my coat hoodie over my head. It keeps my neck warmer. I look out over the empty Safeway parking lot. So cold. I pull my shoulders up closer to my ears and stare at my boots on the ground. I notice a white Ford pickup with a For Sale sign in the window sitting in the parking lot. Nobody is looking at it except me – I'm not buying... I watch the snow blow past my head and find its way to empty ground. It's so cold.

This is the coldness of grief; the coldness of watching others lose things that have been so important to them (and to me).

And it's the cold side of war - an internal war of the heart that struggles to find resistance against a nagging voice insisting that "coldness is the truest thing about life." It's hard to brush off. I cannot argue that I'm looking at the dark, ice and snow of winter, not the sun, rain and rainbows of summer.

But I have more to learn from nature. She is a fantastic teacher, a carefully balanced instructor in the things that are really true. Yes, she can speak of grief, because grief is true. Those who deny it and all the pain that accompanies it are fools in denial. But we must be careful not to accuse her of giving us the full pictures of truth in a momentary snapshot of a cold, dark moment at the gas station.

Table and chairs on our front porch

I awoke this morning to a different world. Like a table set for a spontaneous and joyful welcome bursting out of her soul to Ol' Man Winter's arrival, nature spoke of things entirely different from what she had said last night. They were things just as true, but with such a better savor.

I had mistaken the weather when I got up at 5:30 AM. It was an hour and a half before sunrise. And because I could not see the lights of the valley to the east, I assumed it was still snowing lightly. But I was mistaken. The temperature had dipped to the low teens and had converged with the dew point. The fog had rolled in from the south: thick, cold and heavy, and it had settled in silent crystals on everything exposed.

Stray wire from the electric fence

Went I went out at 6:30 to feed our horses, I was astounded. I was bundled up in a hundred layers to protect myself against the cold, but the glory awaiting me penetrated it all.


Jubilee with a frosting coating

Priceless wealth was everywhere. Ordinary and even annoying items were covered in crystals like quartz or diamonds. Fences and stray wires from the fence, chairs, trees, horse halters and lead ropes, even the horses themselves has been transformed into another more glorious statement of truth. Cold is not the end. Grief is not the final message for our existence. Loss is only the promise of restoration.

Some people chose to live in darkness. They chose to embrace empty gas stations and parking lots with cold blowing snow as the definitive description of life.

But while I do not disagree with the present reality of those things, I chose to live in hope of something better. The cold of this world will not always reign. I chose today to believe that the millions of sparkles from the snow scattered across my small plot of land, is a firm and absolute promise that an eternal season of glory will one day come upon us. All that we have lost will be somehow restored and all that we might consider ordinary or even mundane will be clothed with a glorious and priceless reality.

So, heres to Ol' Man winter and the One who asked him to bring me this message of hope this morning.

A Joyful Hope of Righteousness

2011-03-31T05:57:00.000-07:00

Galatians 5:5

"For we through the Spirit, by faith, are waiting for the hope of righteousness."

We really do tend to look at the mystery of the spiritual journey with such unnecessary depression and sadness. This is the bondage of the law. We hope for righteousness, yes. But we tend to fall to that place where we think righteousness is our responsibility. We get depressed at our own daily failures. We repeat messages to ourselves like, "You will never get this right." We have completely failed to endure in the experience promised in this verse.

   The liberty of Christ tells me that I am significant, I am a son of God, a child of promise. Christ, in His undying love and unending intercession, tells me that I have a purpose, a mission, a calling, an assignment - even if I don't see and understand it now. I can live in the joyful and eager hope of righteousness by faith. And that, without embarrassment! The liberty of the Trinity tells me that it is through the Spirit that I wait for the hope of righteousness. As long as I look for righteousness through myself I will be sad and discouraged. This tells me to look for it through Someone else; Someone I can trust to really accomplish what I will never be able to.

   This hope is a "groaning" hope (see Rom.8.23). It is a looking forward to more than can ever be revealed to us now. It is important for us to realize that we do not get all that we desire here and now. The finishing of righteousness, the satisfaction of justice, are things we indeed groan for. We long for, we hope for and wish for. We do not get to see the very face of God with our own eyes; but we are privilaged to hear His heart speaking in whispers to our own heart. We do not get to walk streets of gold, but by the Spirit we can walk the Narrow Way. We do not experience instant transformation of character, but we can see our Sage counseling us and healing us point by point. It is so crucial that we understand this.

    "All the crises of the human soul flow from there. All our addictions and depressions, the rage that simmers just beneath the surface of our Christian facade, and the deadness that characterizes so much of our lives has a common root: We think this is as good as it gets. Take away the hope of arrival and our journey becomes the Battan death march. The best human life is unspeakably sad. Even if we manage to escape some of the bigger tragedies (and few of us do), life rarely matches our expectations. When we do get a taste of what we really long for, it never lasts. Every vacation eventually comes to an end. Friends move away. Our careers don't quite pan out. Sadly, we feel guilty about our disappointment, as though we ought to be more grateful.

     "Of course we're disappointed -- we're made for so much more. "He has also set eternity in the hearts" (Eccl. 3:11). Our longing for heaven whispers to us in our disappointments and screams through our agony. "If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy," C. S. Lewis wrote, "the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world." -- Sacred Romance, 179-80.

We must hope for so much more beyond this world!

The Release and Anticipation of Spring

2011-03-16T06:18:00.000-07:00

March is half over. I think differently in relation to the passage of time now. I think now in terms of hay and feed consumption. We have made it over half a month on one bag of feed for each horse. It's a beautiful, simple thing really. It's like measuring the month by the phases of the moon. It's the measuring of the seasons by the arrival or departure of birds (the bluebirds and red-wing blackbirds have arrived already this spring; I'm still waiting for the meadowlarks). It's knowing spring is coming on because the horses are starting to shed their winter coats copiously.

I'm a bit bummed because I have to miss the spring equinox sunrise this year. We have to make a trip and I won't be home to see it next week. It's become a sort of internal and emotional ritual for me over the last few years. My family and I have now lived in this house longer than we have lived in any other place in the nearly 20 years of married life. In the six years we have lived here, I've tracked the sun back and forth almost daily. The day when the sunrise comes up directly over one particular tree in my neighbors yard (when I'm standing in the middle of my front porch) spring has officially arrived.

It's a moment of release for my soul. Coldness and ol' man winter cannot win now. His days are numbered, even here in the Colorado high desert. My grip lessons on my heavy winter overalls. I keep them in the closet now, not hanging up on the coat rack or lying on the floor. I don't even have to use them this morning – it's already 40 degrees before 7 AM. Full head pullovers and hats that look like something from Siberia are already boxed up, having been replaced by light knit ones.

It's a moment of anticipation for my soul. I can imagine the dead and dry pasture being transformed by the springs rains that will come. Green. It's a cherished commodity here; not like in Florida. We treasure it like precious metals. I can imagine wild flowers now; all the different colors, all so small and dainty that you really don't notice them in the sea of green tall grass until you get down on your elbows and crawl through the pasture!

These are just way-marks of life that feed my soul. The release and anticipation over just a thing like spring spills over into other parts of my life. “Spring is coming; how can I be discouraged today?” There is still hope for my family, my friends, my neighbors and my church. It doesn't matter if the world continues to fall apart: worsening economy, natural disasters, angry drivers. Some things, like the coming of Spring, remain. They remain beautiful and encouraging.

I'm going to live in that place today.

Ah, there it is, sunrise at 7:07 AM. And just a little south of that tree. Only a few more days!

Gratitude

2011-03-06T07:16:00.000-08:00

Another glorious day dawns in Colorado this morning. And that's just the thing of it. It's a glorious day.

Last week my wife and I made a list of all thing things that were weighing in heavy on us. It was a list of a lot of little things, but it was a long list. We both admitted that it was a bit like being under a cloud.

With a list like that, I could spend a lot of time sinking deeper into discouragement. That would lead me to remember past hurt and pain, which in turn would awaken a sense of bitterness.

But why would I choose to do that? Why would I choose to put the resources of my mind onto things that will not benefit my emotional status today? I see too many people do this. I've done it too often in my own life. I'm letting it go this morning.

I'm listening to by precious kids rustling around upstairs. I'm standing quietly, listening to my horses thank me for their morning grain by gobbling it down with the most determined and clamorous slurping. I "hear" the silence of my darling wife quietly reading and mediating her way into a new day. I can see the neighbor's new baby goat darting around the pen. Oh, another neighbor's dog is out of the fence (as usual) and cruising the cul de sac.

And I'm grateful for it all. The sounds and scenes fill my mind and push out what is not helpful. I'm so grateful that there is no room in my heart for bitterness or sad memories.

It's a glorious day.

A Cross Over Denver

2011-01-26T19:27:00.000-08:00

It was the first time I'd ever been to Denver, CO and it was the first time I had ever seen it. During the evening hours in early January, 1983 I saw lights on a distant mountain in the shape of a cross. Something touched me by it, deep in my heart.

That was almost 30 years ago, but the cross hasn't changed. I've seen it may times since then. I remember seeing in the mid-80's going and coming from Winter Park on Sunday ski days. And, just a month ago I was taking my brother-in-law to Denver International Airport. Traveling west on I-70, east of the city, in the wee hours of the morning, I could see the cross from well over 50 miles away.

Denver has been a special place for me. That first visit on a skiing vacation back in 1983 was the awakening of a new wonder for me – the wonder of the Rocky Mountains – a wonder that has never faded. Denver was the mountain gateway, forever associated with amazing canyons, ski resorts and passes that have become legendary in my own mind. With nostalgia clear as crystal, I can see the highways, hotels, and restaurants (yes, we visited Casa Bonita) we patronized on those early trips. I can still remember walking through the old Stapleton airport with the huge ski bags headed for the car rental counter with my family, eager to get out of Denver and “up the hill.” I remember leaving Denver via automobile at the end of our vacation, turned around in the back seat watching with discouragement as the mountains faded into the haze as we rushed northeast on I-76, already plotting for when I could return again.

The significance of Denver changed for me about three years ago. An organization with headquarters in Denver – south Downing street to be exact – hired me to be the Senior pastor of one of its constituent congregations in Colorado Springs in 2005. After three years of ministry there, in early 2008, the corporate leaders of that organization suddenly pulled the plug on my assignment and started sending me to different “Siberian” churches of the state each week to preach.

Through that experience, Denver rapidly became a whole different story. I came to remember restaurants, not with anticipation of joy and fun, but as places where pages of false accusations were shoved across a table to me in a blindsided move by individuals who had promised to support me. I came to remember committee rooms as places where people who I thought were friends and mentors, scowled at me with indecipherable malice in a communist-style punishment that didn't fit the “crime”. I came to remember offices where those corporate leaders demanded apologies from myself and my wife for petty mistakes, only to sit there silently when I asked for help to deal with troubling situations.

I left that organization to its own issues in the spring of 2008. But since then I've noticed that the drive through Denver is mixed with the recollection of the faces and events that brought significant grief to my experience. Each time I pass beneath the Downing street bridge on I-25 I remember for a moment those hallways, offices and conference rooms where so much pain and shock was experienced.

But last Thursday night I saw the cross again. We were passing through on I-25 headed to a celebration of my daughter's 14th birthday. It was the first time my family had noticed the cross. First lit for Easter in 1964, the 393 feet high and 254 feet across cross at the Mount Lindo Cemetery has been a beacon for many in Denver for almost 47 years. When my wife and daughter both made comments about it, a profound truth suddenly struck me.

There is a Cross that overlooks my Denver experience. There is a God who has given everything to heal the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, release prisoners and to comfort all who mourn. There is a God behind that Cross who can restore and redeem the serendipitous joy Denver once meant to me.

Denver won't be the same for me any more. The memories of pain will be helpless against the reality of transformation God is doing in my life. Denver will forever be a place where God's grace has triumphed over human agendas.

I look forward to my next trip to Denver. Whether it's day or night, I plan to think about the Cross. I plan to think about the efforts my Father has made to rescue, restore and redeem me. I plan to make that drive through Denver a forever monument to His grace and a reminder to take courage in what He can do.

Flat-tire Redemption

2010-12-11T05:04:00.000-08:00

A friend had a flat tire last evening while out shopping– and that after a very tough week that included a dog dying and a biopsy for her son. Her husband is in the Navy. He's in the country but because of medical issues, must remain in California for treatment. They've been apart for 15 months. In addition, someone banged up the back of her van and she was told that getting the spare tire out with the back hatch inoperable would be impossible.

What a need for redemption.

My wife Lisa called her to check on dropping off a Christmas card in person and discovered her state. Talk about a timely phone call! So Lisa, of course, called me and asked me to help out. What honest, red-blooded male wouldn't respond to a distress call 1) from my dear wife and 2) in behalf of another damsel in distress? Sermon prep can wait – hands down. I immediately began making preparations to help her out. I grabbed the jack and the lug spinner, filled the portable air tank from the compressor, threw a couple flashlights in the jeep and headed out. And I also told Lisa to pass on a message, “I'm on my way; be there in about 30 minutes”

How does Father respond to our need of redemption? When He gets “the call”, what does He do? How does His heart respond? Ok, let's be more practical: where did I get a heart that can't help but respond to a call for redemption? Did I just develop that on my own? Or is it a reflection of Father's heart?

Lisa arrived on-scene before I did. She and and the friend embraced and she broke down in sobs. Not sniffles, sobs. She just let all the pressure and stress of single-parenting through a really tough week out. She could do it because she was anticipating redemption. She could already rest in the knowledge that this whole flat tire issue was going to be alright. She could realize that there was no chance in heaven or earth that she was going to spend the night in that parking lot.

By the time I arrived, her very capable son had retrieved the tire from the back of the van and already had it installed. I only grabbed my spinner and tightened up the lugs, making sure everything was safe. We stood around for a few minutes and talked about friendship and Father and the gracious moments of life. Our friend gave hugs and thanks all around and we headed back home.

The blood and body of Christ's sacrifice assure us that we have redemption (see Hebrews 10). Isaiah 61 reminds us that His mission is to heal the brokenhearted, free captives, release prisoners, comfort those who mourn and take away our shame.

But do we anticipate it? Do we stand calmly around our flat tires of life fully knowing that help is on the way? Do we relax in Father's arms spilling out our pain but doing so safely because we know we're in the arms of our greatest Friend? Do we live as if everything is soon to be put back together and made alright?

This is a story of micro-spirituality. It's an illustration of a much larger picture of macro-spirituality. It's a “type” of what really happens in the “anti-type” of the Universe.

First of all, we need redemption. We have failure and untimely disappointment in life. We need redemption from lust, fear and doubt. We're ashamed of where our lives are at. The battle has been long and it has been brutal; we feel like our number is about up.

But secondly, Father is responding to our need of redemption. In His own way and time, He is already bringing redemption to us. We can anticipate it. It took me over 30 minutes to get to the parking lot where our friend was. And sometimes I think it's taking Father 30 years to bring me to places of genuine redemption. But that doesn't change the fact that He's bringing it. That's just the difference between micro and macro-spirituality. The truth is, I can anticipate His redemption in my life as relieved and carefree as our friend could last night. Help is coming. It will be here soon.

This Advent season reminds me that anticipating redemption is something I can be privileged to do a whole lot more of in the coming months. Look around my life less and look ahead more. Look ahead at what is certain to come. I hope you'll join me.

The Best Trainer Ever

2010-12-05T05:35:00.000-08:00

The very best thing you can teach your horse is to look to you for leadership at all times. By diligent ground work and intentional time in the saddle, you can actually get the partnership between you and your horse to the point where the horse will look to you for leadership and follow your guidance even while at liberty (no halter/rope connection). And, even more importantly, she will learn look to you for leadership when she is scared or uncertain, instead of reacting with bucking, bolting, jumping or rearing – all of which put you in the dangerous position of potential injury.

To get to this point, you, the person, the trainer, must take on this responsibility of training. You must initiate the process and keep it going. Your horse will never take the initiative to train herself to bond with you in partnership. The horse cannot overcome his fears of mailboxes, clanging gates or rabbits by himself. Your horse will never think, “Ok, I'm going to work on training myself to be less spooked by garbage cans today.”

But you as trainer can set goals and follow simple planning to free your horse from the fear of things that will not hurt her. You decided, “Today we're going to work on getting Belle less afraid of garbage cans.” So, you lead her up to a large garbage can. You open the lid. You close the lid. Then you lead her away calmly. You lead her back to it again. Let her smell it. Open it, bang the lid closed. By repeating this lesson several times, she quickly gets to the point where she is not bothered by garbage cans, their sounds or their smells.

As I have come to understand this responsibility, privilege and joy of horse ownership, I have realized such a simple Gospel lesson.

First, I too have serious fears. There are things in life that scare me, that cause me to shy away from doing what would be best for myself, family or friends. There are times when I can go through a whole day of work with very few thoughts of God. There have been intense moments in my life where my first thoughts were not directed to God - I did not look to Him for leadership in spooky moments. In those moments I have jumped aside, bolted ahead, bucked and kicked – all from taking the council of my fears.

Those all represent moments in my life where I was not living up to my full potential. I was having irrational fear or reactions that depressed my choice to perform like I really could. I was held captive by a very real enslavement – but an bondage that was unnecessary.

But Father approaches me with the same love and hope for my growth as I approach my horse. He's not angry that I spook, or upset that I shy away from things. He can imagine my life without those irrational captivities just like I can imagine riding my horse on a trail ride without getting thrown off when she “just has to spook” at a rabbit. Father sees the potential we have for living a life of courage, healthy purpose and determination. He sees the vastness of our possibilities if we could live a life free from the fear of other people, the fear of poverty, or death, or criticism.

And notice this awesome Gospel reality: In the very same way as a trainer with a horse, it is Father who must take the responsibility of training these limitations out of us. We can't do it ourselves any more than a horse can. God is the one who must apply pressure on us. He must take us back to the things that frighten us to prove to our claustrophobic, panic-aholic minds that we really are going to be alright when we look to Him for leadership. Father is the one who sets the goals for our training. He designs it, plans it, executes it. And we come out the others side more gloriously free in His leadership and love than when He started. We live life to our potential, able to experience the joy of crossing water, have peace when plastic bags blow by, and laugh when a rabbit jumps out of the grass a few feet away.

Wow, I'm so blessed to have such a trainer!

I think I'm going to go introduce Belle to my chainsaw...

Thrown From A Horse - Gravity Lessons

2010-11-15T07:49:00.000-08:00

Horses have good days. And they have bad days. Some days they put their head down low and walk straight along the trail. Other days they're pretty sure there's a mountain lion behind every brush pile.

My daughter and I went for a long trail ride yesterday. The time change from Daylight Savings to Standard has eliminated the possibilities of weekday rides for me. There's just no light left when I get home. So, weekends are the only time available. Because I so love to ride, the weather isn't much of a factor. The temps topped out only in the high 30's yesterday but the sun was shining and I had to ride. I didn't want to work the horses in the pasture and round pen. I wanted to ride.

I was riding Belle. She is a 3 year-old Mustang that had a great start under saddle by her previous owner/trainer. Most people would call her "green broke". I've done a lot of work with her to desensitize her to "spooky" things. We've made great progress with mail boxes, trash cans, clumps of bushes, ponds and even chainsaws. However, the fact that I'm the only one in the family that actually wants to ride her should say something.

Yesterday was just a "bad hair day" for Belle. As soon as we got out of the pasture she was jumpy. Head up, ears dancing, looking back and forth, stopping to look around. I did some calming maneuvers, neck bends, circles etc. They would have their effect for a few minutes and then wear off.

About half way through the ride we started to have some real spooks. We came out of some trees and something (a stand of cattails maybe) spooked her enough to jump a bit sideways. Then it was a fence post, then a dog, then she squealed and struck at a gelding across a fence. (that's when my daughter apologized to the gelding for Belle's bad hair day.) At that point I had had enough. The growing feeling that this whole ride was going to end with me on the ground (without my written consent) was rising. So I got off and starting walking her.

After 10 minutes or so, she really seemed to have calmed down. Because she is so young and because I have done so much training with her, she really does look to me for leadership. When I'm walking in front of her, she is often much more relaxed.

So anyway, we came to large and beautiful vacent lot that we decided to cut across to head back home. I figured that Belle was ready to ride again so I climbed back on. The 5 acre lot had a few small ponderosa pine and plenty of tall grass, neither of which have ever been a problem for Belle. I was relaxed and feeling better about the ride.

That is, until we spooked a rabbit up out of the grass about 15 feet away. Belle instantly jumped to the right about 10 feet in the most instantaneous spook I've ever experienced. The nice ride turned into slow motion. It was a lot like the old cartoons where Wiley coyote runs off a cliff while chasing Road Runner. He stops in mid air, cautiously puts his foot down, realizes what's happened and suddenly plummets to earth thousands of feet below. Imagine me, stopped rather sideways in the air, feeling around beneath my bum for a horse, realizing there's no horse there, and then dropping the 4 feet to the ground.

I got up, unhurt. Belle was standing there acting a bit apologetic. And my daughter was trying to choke down a laugh. She welcomed me to the "Thrown Club". I climbed back on and we rode home - completely uneventful with Belle putting her head down like an old trail horse and plodding along.

I learned something about horses and people yesterday. When it comes to horses, I realized that if they are having a spooky day, you either 1) need to go back to the pasture and work them from the ground, or 2) expect one or more flying dismounts on your ride.

When it comes to people, I was reminded that they too are just as predictable. People give off evidence of how they are going to treat you. Evidence of "agendas", doing little manipulative things, a little more criticism than normal, addictions and all the cover-ups that go with them - these are all things that tell you that your "ride" with this person could end you up unexpectedly on the ground.

With people, the options basically follow the same idea as do the solutions for spooky horses. If you choose to just keep riding along with those people, ignoring the signs that can't be ignored, you will get thrown - and you will get hurt.

But so many of us forget that there really IS another option: send those people out of your life into their own pasture where they can kick and buck and spook without you. I didn't have to keep riding Belle yesterday. And for many of us, it's a new and growing realization that we don't have to put up with the unsettledness of people around us.

Sending them out to their own pasture is really simple. You just call them on their issues. You point it out to them. You tell them that you don't want it anymore and you're not going to take it anymore. You set some boundaries. You quit the ride of life with them. Dismount. And like with horses, it doesn't have to be done in an angry, defensive way. It's a simple, quiet boundary that says, "I'm not going to get hurt today and will take the steps necessary to prevent it." Often, just pointing their stuff out to them will make them realize that you've blown their cover and they will decide that they'd better move on or everyone's going realize how they treat people.

With them in their own pasture, working out their own issues, facing the natural consequences of life on their own, you will enjoy a much more quiet trail ride for your own life.

If you're hanging on for dear life in some wild ride that someone else is causing, I encourage you to get off. Just stop. Make your own decision for how your trail ride is going to go today. God will give you the strength. And you will love the peace.

Beating Suicide's "No Way Out"

2010-10-08T20:24:00.000-07:00

As I write this we are a few miles from our destination over a thousand miles from our home in Colorado. It's an unplanned trip. We received notice early this week that a relative had died. It was a tragic death. For everyone now involved, it was unplanned. For the deceased, it apparently was planned.

It was just over a year ago that a good acquaintance and friend of many in our fellowship took the same route. This trip brings all that back to the forefront of my memory. We don't know the whole picture of the reasons these individuals have done this. But I do know that they felt one thing in common: no way out. Each of them came to the conclusion that there was no way out of the emotional situation they were in.

I understand that. I've been in similar places. It was over 10 years ago that I came to a place in my life that I felt the same thing. It was a place brought on by a number of factors:

I was a pastor at the time, working in a 100 x 50 mile district of three churches. I was professionally isolated, I was hated by several church members on the basis of where I went to seminary and a couple of doctrinal opinions I held that varied from their own personal interpretations of Scripture. I had no real, active support from church superiors, no genuine mentors to guide me through such a difficult time, and the advice I got from some of the men I most respected was, “No man, having put his hand to the plow and (then) looking back, is fit for the kingdom of heaven.” In words that were nothing but outright spiritual abuse, I was told that I was, “lashed to the mast” of this form of pastoral ministry and had no other option if I wanted to gain eternal life.

That feeling of powerlessness, that feeling of having no control over your own life, your own destiny, and your own decisions is maddening. Having no hope of being able to maneuver situations to come to a point of more joy and happiness will let the air out of anyone's will to live. It truly is enough to drive someone to suicide.

I can remember the day, over a decade ago, when I came to the awful conclusion that my emotional state was in real danger. I can remember the realization that my thought patterns at the time would lead my wife to widowhood and my daughter to fatherlessness. Somehow, that was enough for me to seek help - thank God!

A Christian counselor saved my life. He gave me ways to battle that I hadn't realized before. He pointed out the footholds of thought that the Enemy held over my soul. He pointed me to some of the basic truths of Father that, if followed, would lead me to freedom.

I didn't know it then, but I understand it more now than ever before. It is the lies of Satan through the world and the religionists that do his bidding who say there is only one way to do things. In my case, they said “our way is the only way to do ministry. This is the way we do it in our denomination and if you're going to be a part of this organization, you're going to do it our way.” It wasn't that any one individual actually said that to me, but the whole way the system worked communicated that message. It was the manipulation of the religious system of guilt that pushed me to the brink of taking my own life.

Tonight, just a few miles now from our destination, the gospel takes on an unusual form. It has less to do with all the typical religious jargon of things like “the cross of Christ”, “His blood shed for us” and the like. Tonight, I hear Jesus saying to me, "My genuine truth does not lead to people taking their own lives. I'm about freedom. I have ways out of any pain, any dilemma. I am not hopeless; I am the embodiment of hope."

If you're feeling like there's no way out of the situations you find yourself in, I hope you can have a moment of clarity and realize that you're under the spell of one who simply wants to destroy you. There is truth for you that can and will cut through the lies and bring you a sense of hope. There's a Christian counselor who can really help you. There's a sermon on the internet somewhere that you can hear. Scripture may be waiting to speak like it never has before.

Whatever the case, YOU, dear reader can know for sure that I have prayed for you. Right now, riding along in the dark, my heart sheds tears for your pain that I understand. And I'm praying that Father will be successful in communicating His loving embrace to you.

I believe He will.

Is God a Cowboy?

2010-09-24T08:19:00.000-07:00

Matthew 18.12 parable of the lost sheep

When I came home last night after dark, one of the neighbor's little calves was standing out in the middle of Bucknell Cir. In the end, Jen and Dave, myself, Chuck, Dan, Jim and Rob were all involved in the recovery effort. It was awesome. It was exciting, adventurous, rewarding. “What do you think?”, Jesus asked His disciples as He told them the story of the lost sheep. If a man has an opportunity to participate in a rescue and/or recovery mission, he will do it. Who of us could close our hearts to a young calf, separated from momma, on the road, exposed to danger and loss of life?

Where did men get this heart for the excitement of recovery and salvation? This altruism?
We so often think of the heart of God groaning at the entrance of sin – just like we do when a problem arises in our own circumstances. In our own crass way we may visualize Him on the throne at the moment when Adam sinned: “Awwe Adam, why'd you have to @#&^! this one up.” And when I knocked on the neighbor's door to tell them the calf was out, there was certainly some groaning in Jen's voice at the news when her husband was up in the mountains on a hunting trip. We think of the sheep owner in the parable cursing under his breath as he closes up the 99 in the sheepfold. He's a bit p.o.'ed as he gathers up the torch, his overcoat and heads out into the night. The look on his face, as painted in the little kids story books, is totally serious, even negative.

But when I knocked on Dan's door last night knowing all his experience in roping calves from horseback, his answer was, I'll saddle Bandit up. When Lisa called our other neighbors, Tommi's answer was, "Jim's already out the door." Chuck saw all the stopped headlights and activity on the road and just showed up with a rope. Rob suddenly appeared on his 4-wheeler. It was a spectacle of the highest order, seeing all the guys out there with horses, ropes and flashlights and 4-wheelers, cows mooing, people calling, others yelling; cars and trucks driving around shining their lights into the pasture.

So what of God at the moment when He knows the recovery plan must go into action? Do we ever really think of God taking on the recovery of this world as an Adventure? Do we think of it as something He takes on with relish, with the spirit of excitement and reward at a job well done? Have we ever thought of Him leaning back on His throne with a tone of deep satisfaction, to the point of giddy bragging, leaning over to Gabriel with a great big smile on His face saying, "Well that was sure fun getting that little guy back home"? Does He retell the stories, laugh and talk about it each time the celestial neighborhood gets together for a backyard BBQ?

What if the hearts of the men of this neighborhood actually do reflect the heart of God? I mean, they must have gotten this thing from somewhere. And what if we all got it from God? What if He is the way we are? What if our own hearts are telling us a huge story about the heart of God? If that's true, it says tremendous things about His relish for the plan of salvation – and for us. His heart is not only concerned for but even excited about our safe return. Maybe it's time for us to stop thinking of Him as p.o.'ed at us for our waywardness; stop putting ourselves down as the stupid, God-irritating little calves we've always imagined ourselves to be. Yeah, we've done a really unwise thing in leaving His protective pasture, but what if He and His angelic cowboy friends are coming riding in to restore us to our rightful place with a little bit of hootin' and hollorin' and a whole lot of fun for the job?

Another Glorious Day

2010-07-10T06:32:00.000-07:00

Gratitude can be such a deep thing. You can feel this almost overwhelming sense of goodness. In a world where I can't listen to the news because I can't take the badness, there come moments like this when something so much better surfaces.

My friend Pete took the picture on the right. My son Isaac is walking down the driveway. Notice that he's barefoot (his feet are so calloused from going barefoot that he can walk down our gravel driveway without going, "ouch, ohhh, eee, owwwh"). Pete's dog Calvin is unleashed (don't need those things out here). Isaac has a butterfly net and a bug box in his hands. He was on the hunt for dragonflies. A few minutes after this shot was taken he came running back up the driveway with three dragonflies in the box to show all of us his glorious escapades. He couldn't have been happier.

What you can't see in the picture is my daughter Johanna riding up and down the cul-de-sac on Brooke, our new horse.

And I'm moved to tears of joy by the sight of it all. Peaceful country living with animals, dogs, horses, and bugs. It's what we've always dreamed of. It's a little piece of heaven right here on earth.

Father, I'm grateful this morning. Grateful to You for where you have taken us and what you have done in our lives. I love the children, the land, and the friends You have given me.

Thank you!

Worshiping God - no, really

2010-06-05T06:40:00.000-07:00

The Jews in Jeremiah's day idolized and worshiped their temple (Jeremiah 7). They thought it was their savior. The religionists in Jesus day did the same thing. And most churches in our country today haven't escaped the temptation either.

I was raised in a denomination that worshiped itself. Salvation came by being a member. Oh, they could talk about salvation by grace through faith, but the real litmus test always came over whether people were active and supporting the system or not. If people stopped attending, giving or serving, the gossip lines (a.k.a. prayer chains) started talking about such ones "backsliding".

And I think the real reason for this is because no one in that denomination really knows how to worship God. I never learned it. I only learned how to talk Scripture, exegete texts and make intellectual assertions about worshiping God. When any one person or a group of persons doesn't know how to do something that they know they are supposed to do, they make up stuff all around themselves to make it look like they're doing it.

So, I'm on a journey to learn how to worship God. Just this morning I sat here and watched the sunrise. It was glorious. I can't describe it and a picture would completely fail to give you the full sensory experience. But it occurred to me while watching the show that Father is completely in love with Beauty. He absolutely loves beauty. From the clouds, sky and sun I look down on my green pasture, so different from the brown dead thing we had here just two months ago. It is now alive with wildflowers. He absolutely loves beauty.

So I fell at His feet and worshiped Him because He loves beauty. I rejoiced that it must be in His heart to create and enjoy beautiful things. I thanked Him. And I anticipated even more worship when my family and I arrive at the Great Sand Dunes later today for an overnight campout in one of the most beautiful places on this planet.

Oh, and while worshiping Him this morning, I put on Chris Tomlin singing "How Great Is Our God." Music really brings something to our expressions of heart. I've heard and sung that song many times, but with the beauty of sunrise and the warmth of the sun pressing against my face, the words, "light is in His hands, and darkness tries to hide" really made a lot more sense.

I encourage you to stop dancing around the idea of worship. Stop playing the religious facade in which you do everything but worship, and start worshiping Father. It's part of the IT I wrote about last week. Nothing else will satisfy you.

Grief and A Moment of Intimacy with Father

2010-05-31T07:07:00.000-07:00

I have been grieving this last week. Seeing an old acquaintance in the aisles of Lowes opened the door to that room in my heart. The individual shared with me a story of religious politics at work, sadly cutting him off from an opportunity for great usefulness.

At first I was mad. Mad at the whole religious corporation. Mad at people who have become so obsessed with preserving the thing that signs their paycheck that they will ignore the flesh-and-blood life of the people they deal with. Mad at the corporation who did the same thing to me. (So often there's something really personal behind our “righteous indignation” isn't there?).

I know I've been grieving for two years. The religious corporation that I always thought was a church has systematically attacked my strengths and accused my weaknesses, always falling back to silence, shrugs or political excuses for their behavior when confronted on it. As I've reflected on all the experiences, I've been through every stage of grief – several times. Grief is like that; like waves of an ocean that gradually becomes calmer with the passing of time – but never quite go flat to that glassy smooth water of my neighbor's pond.

So, last week's wave was better. The “mad” didn't last long. And it didn't last long because I took it, right away, to the only place that I've found can really help – the heart of Father.

Honestly, it's taken me time to learn to do that because grief can be used by the dark side to make you feel significant (as least for a brief moment in time). You can use the anger to feel strong (when you're heart is shattered in tiny, weak pieces). You can use the depression to manipulate others (really, they should feel sorry for me, right?). The denial can feel like a band aid on a wound (just don't look at it because there's blood spurting out from all around it). And the bargaining can make you feel like you're smarter than you really are (since, of course, I didn't do and say all those smart and witty things I've now thought of back when the whole thing was blowing up).

But when I honestly take it to Father, there's something about His influence that cuts through all that crap and gets my heart to the place where it can say, “that hurt and it matters.” It's the stage of acceptance.

The finality of all that has happened in my denominationally-employed pastoral career sank in deeper than it ever has before last week. In the same way that someone who has lost a loved-one must come to the point where they finally accept that their beloved is dead, that it hurts, and that they're not coming back, so I came to the point where acceptance told me that my former denomination is, at its core, political, self-preserving, and careless for the hearts of its people – and there's nothing I can do to change that or bring it back to something good and holy.

And with that finality comes several really good things. First, I can free the entire denomination to be and do whatever it wants. I can allow it to be however political, self-serving and careless it chooses to be. I can respect its choice without being offended any longer. My own heart can truly say, “That is what the denomination has chosen to be.”

But I can also do that in the freedom of being independent from them. I can go on and live without them being any factor in my life. I don't have to answer to them, spend time with them, or argue with them. I have no need to defend myself with them, or accuse them of what I don't agree with.

As a result of those two things, instead of feeling bitterness toward the whole system, I can feel a sense of compassion on so many leaders who have chosen to live in the bondage of self-defense, self-preservation, and fear of people's opinions. I experience a sense of sadness for so many who are absolutely without a genuine experience in who Jesus Christ really is and live daily, but unknowingly outside so much of His person and His grace.

As last week came to a close and I sat reading and studying in the warm spring sunshine of Saturday morning, I went to a video blog that I've tracked with off and on for the last year or so. Looking down through the most recent titles, I immediately saw one entitled, “Grace and Grief.” As I watched John Lynch from TrueFaced share a 4 ½ minute exhortation to learn to allow ourselves to grieve, I knew in my heart that Father had stepped very close to my heart and life in that moment and personally validated the journey of grief I had been on for the whole week. He spoke clearly, “The journey you are on is the right journey. You are truly making progress in grieving and healing. You are learning to come closer to Me.”

Every one of you reading this has grief. Some of you may be moving through that grief. Others of you may be seriously and dangerous stuck in some stage of that grief and can't seem to move on. I want to encourage you to take your grief to God today. Take the one step of getting past the denial, rage, depression, and bargaining to that place where you can admit to Father, “that hurt, it matters, I can't do anything about it, but You can.”

His love for you will bring to you the same kind of intimate experience with Him. Even through grief you and I can begin to experience IT.

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,

Because the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted;

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

To proclaim liberty to captives And freedom to prisoners

It

2010-05-29T06:44:00.000-07:00

The real Gathering I wrote about in the last post comes down to just one thing. IT. IT is the one thing that doesn't change with the seasons of desire in my own heart.

When I go watch the US Air Force Thunderbirds do their demonstration over the Air Force Academy graduation (like I did last Wednesday), the desire to fly is mysteriously aroused within me. But IT remains constant.

When I spend time with friends on a ranch in the mountains, the desire to live and work in such a place surges as well. But IT is still there.

When I see some incredible finish carpentry work, I feel the urge to press deeper into an identity as a master carpenter. But I still desire IT.

And the interesting thing about IT, is that we talk so much about it in religious circles. It seems to be the thing we're all about. But it's not. The world of religion has very little to do with IT. The world of religion is just like the rest of the world: full of distractions from IT. Only the distractions are different.

Those of us who are on the journey of leaving the world of religion have discovered the importance of IT. We have come to understand how religion blocks so many of us from IT. We talk among ourselves about IT. We preaching about the need for IT. We share speculations about how we think we can get IT. But we're in the same danger as the rest of the world in not ever, really, honestly possessing IT. It's as if we see IT only from afar; or, through a glass, darkly.

IT is Jesus Christ. Not truth about Him. Not doctrine about Him. Not ideas and speculation about Him. Not stories about Him that are 2000 years old. But Him. Today. Now. As real in my life as the flesh and blood, laughing and crying friends I'm going to see today.

And that's what the real Gathering is all about. It's not about being anti-religious, anti-denominational, politically conservative, or simply in favor of doing churchy kinds of things without guilt and shame. The real Gathering is a coming together of people who, more than anything else, desire IT. The real Gathering is for those who, in the ebb and flow of all the desires in their lives, one desire remains true, one longing remains the same: the desire for a real, intimate, life changing and daily encounter with Jesus Christ.

If that sounds familiar to you, I think we should get together some time.

A Gathering Home

2010-04-09T06:36:00.000-07:00

Of the four houses on our cul-de-sac, three are for sale. Two are empty. Two additional homes behind us are empty and for sale. And just over the hill is a foreclosed home sitting empty.

It's been a lot more quiet in our neighborhood for the last six months. The horses, dogs and people that brought a little more life to this area are gone.

(Thankfully the local fox still has her address somewhere nearby -probably under Jon's barn up the hill. She's welcome to all the gophers and ground squirrels she can put away. - oh, there she goes with one now)

We're wondering who's going to move in next door. Both empty houses seem to be getting a lot of viewing traffic. My kids run outside and wave at the realtor and prospective buyers every time they come around in a "see-what-a-great-neighborhood-this-is" sort of way. I've thought of putting up my own realtor sign by the mailbox that reads, WANTED: Good Neighbors. We've even prayed for God's hand to be active in who finally moves in.

We hang out with neighbors around here. Pull each other out of snow drifts (like last week). Do electronics projects and model rocket shoots together. Talk about the weather, and dogs, and other neighbors. Borrow ladders, feed their goats and chickens when their gone, fix stuff together, buy their dog (yeah). Help them move - right, one of the now empty houses. Teach their son how to drive a stick-shift. Invite them over for a bonfire-roast.

We're a little gathering in north-eastern El Paso county. A gathering of genuine people who enjoy being together.

But there's a spiritual gathering going on right now as well and I'm looking around for more good people to move in to spiritual "homes" in my spiritual neighborhood. And they are a special group of people I haven't even met yet, though I know some things about them already.

They are not looking for a church to "do" but people to love - and be loved. They are not looking for friends whom they can criticize and accuse, manipulate and control; not looking for a theology that strokes their own, not looking for someone who's "word" matches what they think the "word" should be. They don't talk all sanctimonious while treating people like the devil.

They are people looking for God in the context of fellowship. They are looking for God in shared laughter and shared sorrow. They value friends more than they value being "right" in their own eyes. And they are willing to negotiate through difficult times of misunderstanding or offense in their relationships. They are people who allow God to point out plague spots in their own lives (often through their safe relationships). They are people who have gotten a glimpse of the real joy of freedom and are willing to recognize their their self-defense and personal honor-seeking are the only things standing in the way of that freedom. They live in the conscious knowledge of being loved by their heavenly Father, and they live that love to people around them.

I hope to meet more of these people soon. I know they are here in this town somewhere. I know they are searching for a spiritual "home". I'm praying for them because I really want more good neighbors to gather with. In the spiritual cul-de-sac I live in, there's plenty of room for more good neighbors.

First Spring Sunrise for the Soul

2010-03-21T07:19:00.000-07:00

I look at the first spring sunrise this morning as it breaks over the eastern horizon that we affectionately know as “Kansas”. The equinox was yesterday at 1032 local time. I'm relieved. I'm suddenly relieved. Like, “Oh, hey, it's spring – I almost forgot.” The sun's steady march northward since December has reached a crucial point – a welcome harbinger of warmth and life of summer ahead. And suddenly I am glad, so very glad.

Winter is long here at 7,350 ft. And this winter it has been too long. It's interesting how sometimes the pattern of life in the physical world matches the pattern of things in our own hearts. There has been much coldness this winter – in many ways. Little snow and frigid temperatures have been a regular pattern. But Jesus also warned us of extreme frigidity in these last days of earth's history. He warned us that “the love of many would grow cold.” And He was talking about people who have professed to believe in Him; His own people. He told us that there would be many among them that would walk away from the things of Christian love. They would put other things above loving relationships.

How true, how right He was. And it is a chilling thing to experience. We have seen this winter how self-justification, un-negotiated accusation, dogma and closure to relational dialog has settled like a deep freeze over many of our days during this past season.

But I suddenly realize this morning, that through it all there have been signs of the Son's steady move northward in our experience. Like spring water in the irrigation ditches, like bluebirds flitting about the pasture, like the spring equinox, these signs have come. And like I feel this morning, they appear so suddenly but oh, so welcome.

And now I realize how truly my soul of dust and breath is tied to the patterns of his planet. Because, yes, I see now that spring is coming to my own experience in just the same way. The ache of the frigid fingers and toes of my soul are being warmed by the love and friendship of new acquaintances who I now realize are coming in to warm those places in my heart that others tried to freeze. They have been coming on so slowly that I didn't realize it until just this morning!

They are friends with laughter, friends with strength, with compassion, ministry, and willingness to get involved in loving spiritual fellowship. They are friends with hearts. Yes, of course; I couldn't see it through all the snow and drifts! They are friends who hurt, but not so that they refuse the embrace of love in our fellowship. And I do love them. Ha! I laugh at the sudden realization. I am SO glad they are in my life now. I would embarrass them with abundant hugs and tears and expressions of gratefulness if they were in my kitchen this morning!

Hope surges forward in my heart today. I know that soon I will hear the blackbird screech in my pasture soon. And I know that soon after I will hear the final and full announcement of spring – the glorious song of the meadowlark. It brings tears to my eyes right now. Tears, because it means so much more to me this morning that it ever has.

These families I think of right now, they are the promise for the future. They are Jesus' promise that His church will endure to the very end; that love will finally win the day and carry the battle.

The sun has been up for nearly an hour now while I have been writing and tear-ing through this. It feels so warm coming through the window now. The pastures of frigid snow don't look so cold now. In fact, in the light and warmth of the Son, with the promises of spring, it looks positively beautiful.

Thank you, Jesus. I love what You are doing!

Lust, Legalism and Covering Shame

2010-02-12T10:59:00.000-08:00

The two go together perfectly. In fact, I don't think you can have one without the other. If you lust for something (and I'm talking about "overmastering desire" here, not just sexual temptation), it is something you cannot legally have. So in order to get it, you are going to have to operate outside of the accepted ways of doing things. And to do that you have to be a legalist in the most perfect Biblical sense. Stay with me now...

While talking with the serpent at the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil, Eve came into a condition of lust. She experienced an overmastering desire for something that she didn't even fully understand but thought she had to have. And at that point, I wonder why she didn't turn around and look at the rest of the entire garden and entire world, and experience deep gratitude for everything she had been given. Suddenly, all of that didn't matter to her. What mattered was getting what she didn't have.

So, on the basis of her lust, she then turned into a legalist. A legalist is someone who cannot accept what has been done for them and/or given to them and they chose instead to earn something by their own effort. Leaving a life lived in response to the gracious abundance of her loving Father, she made a most horrific change to humanity's way of living. She took her own initiative to do her own thing to get something she didn't understand because she thought that's what she needed.

And everyone of us has been living that way ever since. With all the goodness of God available to us in the Gospel, we turn our back on Him and try to make it our own way. We cover our shame with this success or that brilliance. We build our identity on some career ability. We construct a personality so the world will applaud. We create systems - organizations, beliefs, ways of living - to define "salvation" and then live in them thinking we have entered some new sphere of a knowledge of good and evil. We think we're better off, we're safer and more secure.

I hope that we can realize that the Serpent has delivered on the goods. We do enter into that knowledge when we live as legalists. Only we've forgotten to read the fine print of his promise to us: You'll experience evil directed against yourself and this knowledge of good and evil will never make you happy!

Let's turn away from the tree. We have everything we need for genuine life and true happiness. in God through faith in Jesus Christ we have identity, acceptance, adequacy, love, hope. If we can really accept it as a free give of grace, then we can return to our original purpose: living in the extravagent love of Father, freely and joyfully. We won't be trying to cover shame that He's already covered by the skin of His sacrifice. Being filled with his love, we can truly love.

Please consider this. Ask yourself where you're operating independent of Father - out in the loveless realms of legalism. Ask yourself what shame you're trying to cover up on your own. Then give it up. For example:

Father, I give up to You the shame of betrayal. Those who have done this have the freedom to do so and I grant them that freedom. By Your power I forgive them for the pain they have caused me. And today, I chose to exercise my own power to stop trying to prove I'm right. There is no condemnation, no shame in being in Christ, and I chose to be free in Him - in this absolute truth. By Your power the strength of betrayal is broken and I live now in all the glorious abundance of Your love.

And remember, fig leaves can cause severe dermetitus! No kidding.

13 Years Ago Tonight

2010-01-19T20:59:00.000-08:00

Thirteen years ago right now I was asleep. I would sleep for another two hours or so before my wife would wake up to go to the bathroom. We wouldn't be back in bed for another 24 hours. And when she was finally drifting off to sleep, I would be sitting in a rocking chair in a hospital room in Urbana, Illinois holding the littlest girl I had ever held, quietly singing Jesus Loves Me until I got to the part where the lyrics go:

little ones to Him belong
they are weak, but He is strong

At that point my emotions overwhelmed me and I could only hum those bars.

Weak indeed. With tears in my eyes, I was thinking about my dear daughter those thirteen years ago. So small, so weak, so utterly helpless.

She's so big now. Turning 13 years old tomorrow. And her character is so sweet that all those fears of teenage terror seem so ridiculous to us now.

But my heart feels the same for her now as it did then. She's still weak. She still has so much to learn. She's not on her own yet and she's got a ways to go before that day comes.

And my heart also feels the same for myself and my wife. We are weak. We've come far enough in these 13 years to know pain like we've never anticipated. Not with our daughter, of course. But with life. With people who claimed to be "Christian" but seemed only to embody the very spirit of the devil himself. And I know how vulnerable and weak we have been in the face of all that hate. Like Theodin said in near despair at Helm's Deep in the face of the Ork onslaught, "What can men do against such hate." (Lord of the Ring: The Two Towers)

little ones to Him belong
they are weak but He is strong

Now I remember the song again. But this time it's not about the weakness of my daughter; or my weakness. It's about His strength. Yes! That's what the song said! Her weakness, my weakness doesn't really matter. His strength is what matters.

I feel hope for my daughter on this, the eve of her 13th birthday. She has learned much about the One who is Strong. And if she will take seriously the words of that little tune, the first she ever heard, she will be alright no matter what unanticipated pain may be ahead of her in life.

Making Friends

2010-01-19T20:49:00.000-08:00

My family and I live in a great neighborhood. It really is a community. We've had barbeque's together. We shovel out of blizzards together. My retired Air Force Captain up the hill is a computer and electronic genius - we've got a couple projects going right now. The neighbor across the street is an electrician; he helped me pull wires for a sub-panel in our nearly finished basement. The dog we have...she came from our next door neighbor who breeds champion border collies.

And everybody waves. When I'm out walking, everybody waves at me and I wave back. The postman waves. The propane guy waves and the bus driver waves. My garbage guys wave and the garbage guys who aren't my garbage guys even wave.

Even the horses are getting to know me. I like to give 'em a handful of the uncut grass outside their fence to chomp on for a few minutes. Many of them come over to the fence when they see me coming.

The dogs... well... let's just say that "the bad boys know me and they leave me alone" - to quote an old Beach Boys song.

But there's this one guy...

He's in a house up over the hill beyond several other neighbors. I think he lives alone. The house is set way back from the subdivision's dirt road. And there's "Beware of the Dog" and "No Trespassing" signs by the long driveway. I've seen his dog - not much to beware of there if you ask me. All the shades in every window are always shut. Always. And the only windows I can see are on the north side of the house (so don't give me that "fade the carpet" line). The house is set so far back, nobody could see in anyway from the road.

I saw him once on a Friday morning. It was trash day. Yeah, the day I always wave at the garbage guys who aren't mine - and they wave back. He had these two little wagons hooked up to the back of his car. In the wagons were his garbage cans. He pulled them with his car down that long driveway out to the road for trash pick-up. I was impressed. Cool thinking dude! This guy thinks like me: why do myself what gasoline or diesel fuel can accomplish for me. So, as he unhitched the wagons and got back into his car I waved at him, actually hoping that I could catch him for about a 30 second chat and just compliment him on his trash-transfer system.

He wasn't looking. He didn't look at all. He looked the other way. In fact, I got the distinc impression that I had mistakenly put on my super secret Army high-tech make-me-invisible suit before going out on the walk. Humm. Maybe the trash guy wears night-vision goggles or something.

Then I took a closer look at the little trash-wagons. They were chained and padlocked to a metal bar sticking out of the ground. Not sure I know of anyone who would be wanting to steal those, I thought to myself. Certainly not any of the friendly people around here. Humm. Again.

This morning I was on my regular walk. I was about a mile from home when up over the hill came the big Bonneville - this dude's car. I was walking almost straight into the sun so I didn't realize it was him until he got close enough for me to do the wave. (I actually prefer the two-finger victory sign as a wave - I think it's cool). Anyway, I was in the middle of that cool wave as he went by.

He wasn't looking.

You know that look a cat gets when its sophisication gets messed up? How it looks really stupid for a second and then tries to act like it didn't just fall unintentionally from a 5 foot fence and land on it's back? Yeah, that was me. Stupid wave to a guy not even looking. Dang, that invisible suit-thingy again.

But my point is better than that. I was 10 FEET away from this guy. He had the sun to his back. He saw me. And he made a choice to look at that stupid fence going by on the other side of the car rather than simply "see" me and wave back. Just like every other time.

I'm not offended. I've just suddenly put everything together. Big inconspicuous Bonneville, shades pulled, padlocked garbage, ferocious terrier, living alone. And I feel sorry for him. Something broken is going on there. I mean really, it's just a wave dude. If you don't want to talk we don't have to. But I'm glad to have you as a neighbor...(read trailing off to silence cause I'm pretty sure he won't be reading this blog)

So it got me thinking about what a great counselor told me six-months ago. He gently challenged me to be more open to safe friends. That same message was repeated to me just a month ago when I read an article by Henry Cloud entitled "Blocks to Love".

And now, this morning, I have a picture in the sad example of a neighbor of what it will be like for me if I don't take the advice. From what I see, that hermit-style living must really suck.

I'm not going there.

And I don't think you should either. Maybe you've been hurt. Maybe you don't trust people. Ok, so you don't really feel like making friends and taking anymore risks. But really now, do you want to end up as a 60 somethin' who can't even wave to his neighbor?. I didn't think so...

We need friends. Really. And we need them for at least two reasons. First, we need really loving and gentle people to point out the stupid issues we have in our own lives that are destroying our potential for experiencing life. You know, that guy who talks ALL THE TIME, he's sabatoging his friendships because people can't put up with that forever. He needs a good friend to tell him that.

And that chic that's just so critical of everything going on around her. She already struggles having friends, and you can be sure she's not going to get any more until she realizes that being so critical puts the bombs on any quality friendship. Maybe a genuinely kind friend could tell her that.

But second, we need to be in love. Love is the very spirit of God that makes our whole lives tick. Without the giving and receiving of love we die. I mean, we just wither up and become irrelevant to ourselves and the entire world. And that love will NEVER happen if we don't make good, safe relationships a priority.

So, I've got a suggestion for you. Pick up a copy of Cloud and Townsend's book, "Safe People", and join me in reading it over the next few weeks. The advantages of having safe friends far outweigh the safety of living in a hermit's bubble.

Other-Initiated Value

2009-09-26T05:34:00.000-07:00

We search for self-value. We look at ourselves and the world around us and we struggled to find reasons to believe that we are something of some significance. Those of us who were privileged enough to be born into more loving families find ourselves born into the center of several people's attention. And it's all downhill from there. In a few years we move away from being the center of their lives. And we begin the search of trying to find a replacement for the mother and father who gave us so much of their lives.

Those of us who were born into neglectful, rejecting families will likely find the search twice as difficult and are much more likely to explore solutions that are much more dysfunctional.

We crave friendship. We crave the messages of being valued by others. But what we will find most of the time is that we are completely powerless to convince people that we are valuable to them. We are unable to motivate, persuade or even manipulate and control their behavior into giving us the feedback we so desire.

The most painful discovery of all is what we learn when we come to the point in our spiritual growth that we stop even trying to gently motivate others to communicate significance to us. We will find that we, in ourselves, are not enough to win people's attention. If we do not do anything to motivate or persuade the building of friendships, we will have none. We will discover that our identity, without action on our part, is completely insufficient to evoke a valued response from others. Others will not value us simply for who we are. They will not value us simply because they like us.

And so enters a most serious cause of human dysfunction. We cannot find any objective reason to believe that we are of value. Apart from our own behavior, we are alone in the world, unsure of our reason for existence and the value of our own breath.

Two responses can develop from this conscious or unconscious realization: depression or manipulation. Manipulation comes from the determination to behave in such a way that others will give us that feedback – even if it's not objective. Others give us that feedback to avoid our ______ (anger, revenge, fill in the blank). Or they give us that feedback to gain our ______ (love, approval, etc.). Those who have chosen manipulation have chosen to imagine that the feedback of value they receive has nothing to do with their own behavior. They live in an imaginary world that others really like them for who they are. Escaping from the solution of manipulation is rare. It's rare because manipulation can be so subtle that one can give up the more direct forms of violence and enabling for forms that appear so selfless and others-centered that they become almost impossible to detect except under the closest self-examination. Few are willing to examine themselves that closely.

Those who fall to depression (and I mean a simple depression here, not a manipulative behavior) have come to realize their inability to evoke a positive response to themselves from the world around them and have admitted that they have no idea what to do. They are at a loss about themselves and how to find that reason for their value. They have stopped trying to motivate and manipulate others. They have been willing to closely examine their own heart and motives, comparing the cause and effect patterns of manipulation with genuine results. What they have found is that there are no genuine results. They have realized that the responses of others they have been getting all along are not objective and honest, but rather those dysfunctional responses to relieve pressure applied by themselves.

These truly honest souls have come to realize that they are in pursuit of genuine value and they are no longer satisfied with the twisted value of response from others that they themselves have initiated. They are looking for value based on the genuine, selfless initiative of others. They are looking for the communication of value to their own being that has nothing to do with reciprocation. They are longing for someone to value them who is not looking for them to pay back the value they broadcast.

They are depressed because they have rarely, if ever, seen an example of this kind of friendship. They are depressed because they have become hopeless for this. They have realized the truth about what their heart desires, and they have come to believe that it does not exist. They will never be genuinely valued for their simple existence.

From this place of despair there are only a few options: 1) return to the matrix of manipulation (take the blue pill) - eek out a valueless existence, enjoying a few moments of “value” that doesn't really exist; 2) suicide; or 3) turn to God.

The turn to God is perhaps the hardest road to take, mostly because religion has so corrupted the character of God for its own manipulative ends. Religious institutions and corporations have so twisted our view of God for their own survival (pay your tithe and volunteer your exhausted time so our "church" can survive) that our ability to see a God who would offer prevenient grace (grace and value with selfless initiative) is nearly impossible.

But, having said that, the very fact that a few of us can recognize what our hearts desire, speaks of a Being who created us for that desire and who has in His interest the fulfillment of that desire. Like the mousetrap that speaks of it's designers hope to eliminate the dirty little four-legged pests from his environment, so our hearts craving for other-initiated value speaks of Someone who designed us for that very thing.

The honest, depressed, religiously misled individual who is craving other-initiated value can find in this truth already an initiation by a Being they have yet to meet but already have discovered the core of His heart.

God Bless America - And His Church!

2009-09-24T06:10:00.000-07:00

The presentation was so moving, I was taken completely by surprise.

It all started when the musical group The Voices of Liberty sang “God Bless America” (link) just before we entered for the show. I was at Disney's Epcot Center and we had decided to make our visit to The American Adventure the last stop of our day. As the most spectacular rendition of that great hymn fell on my ears, my heart was moved to the core by the thoughts of the past, present and future of this great country. I cried out with them, “Yes, God bless America!” with a desperate hope that I didn't realize was nagging at my soul.

The emotional journey intensified as I sat through the theater presentation just moments later. Viewing the history of this nation highlighted for me the blood, sweat and tears – all in the pursuit of freedom – that has made this country what it is today.

It is freedom that has enabled the people of this nation to think clearly, defend itself and others, invent, create, establish, forge. Freedom is the only environment where that will truly happen. The Spirits of America have been the ideals that have been worth all the death, exhaustion and pain endured in their pursuit:

Individualism, Innovation, Tomorrow, Independence, Compassion, and Discovery, Freedom, Heritage, Pioneering, Knowledge, Self-Reliance , and Adventure.

Nations of the world pass through the following sequence:

From bondage to spiritual faith;

from spiritual faith to great courage;

from courage to liberty;

from liberty to abundance;

from abundance to selfishness;

from selfishness to complacency;

from complacency to apathy;

from apathy to dependency;

from dependency to bondage.

Click here for source

But I quickly realized that this emotional journey had a two-fold source. On one hand, I have come to realize that the nation that I love has reached the point where the majority of her people no longer believe in freedom or the Spirits of America. Pleasure-seeking, fear and governmental-reliance have already invaded our nation and taken hostage the hearts of her people. America is in a downward spiral from which she will never recover as her own leaders stuff their fingers in their ears to avoid the warnings of our founding fathers, cover their eyes from seeing the worth of freedom bought by blood, and seal up with the money of bribes their mouths from speaking the truth. I'm moved to weep as I watch these things unfold before my very eyes; as the cycle of this nation returns to bondage.

But on the other hand, I also realized that what is now the Seventh-day Adventist corporation has also followed a parallel sequence. What was born out of bondage – individuals with strong spiritual faith thrust out of established churches – and forged in courage, has now moved to bigoted selfishness, personal spiritual apathy and blind dependence upon leadership. Today this corporation empowers the spiritually incompetent and brutal, embraces lies to accomplish it's agendas and turns a deaf ear and blind eye to practical righteousness.

Like the people of America, her own people are intoxicated by their “identity” as the remnant. They have forsaken their individual responsibility for personal spiritual growth. They are drunk with the wine of contentment in their prophetic knowledge. They are fearful and suspicious of anything outside their system. And, like the pay-back mongers of Congress, her leaders have only their job security to consult when making decisions.

As I walked out of The American Adventure theater yesterday, wiping the tears for nation and church from my cheeks, I realized that now is the time for men to arise. It is time for men who have courage on the order of a Washington, Jefferson, or Henry to reestablish the thinking of freedom and liberty and move forward. We need such men. We need men who are unmoved by doubt, fear and the oppression of state and corporate church; men who understand our bondage and set aside all selfishness, complacency and apathy; men who take personal responsibility and ultimate risk to press forward the truths of liberty.

I do not believe that America will emerge from this crisis in tact. Nor do I believe that the Seventh-day Adventist corporation will survive this bondage. But the true church will. She will ever be small, but she will be made up of a gathering of just such men and women. Men and women who are led by Father to fight and fellowship together as teams of genuine believers. They will endure and emerge from this bondage as stars that shine in a dark sky.

Today, I choose to be one of those men.

Mountain Climbing Motivation (by Grace Alone)

2009-08-28T16:18:00.000-07:00

I didn't want to climb any peak either. Maybe it was just the exhaustion of living life for the past couple months. More likely it was the less than fully prepared situation I left behind at home and church when I departed. Failure or less-than-fully-responsible [i.e. irresponsible, careless, thoughtless...you get the idea] conclusions have a way of dogging anyone. It hangs like a demotivating fog over even the coolest activities. Not that I had planned it, I just hadn't planned well and I was dreading with weak hope that things would be alright in my absence.

It was the men/boys wilderness backpack adventure weekend. I'd been planning this trip for at least 6 months. 9 other men and boys joined my son and I as we backpacked several miles into Colorado's Collegiate Peak Wilderness, setting up camp for two nights in a most incredible place, Horn Fork Basin. Literally surrounded by 14,000 ft peaks and rugged ridges, it's become one of my favorite places in Colorado. Having previously summited both Mt. Harvard (4th highest mountain in the lower 48) and Columbia, it was a hiker/peak-bagger paradise.

But when we woke up Saturday morning, I didn't feel like doing anything. Isaac didn't want to climb any peaks either. He mentioned that when he first woke up and I was grateful. My demotivated spirit suited it well. So we ate breakfast. Several of the guys took off for Bear Lake or the summit of Harvard. I soon found myself lying on my back on a rock looking at the clouds going by while Isaac and a couple of the other boys played some games.

And isn't it interesting how we cover up our demotivation. We're being hammered with something, attacked, assaulted in our souls, and we just decide that we're going to “take it easy.” We mask our discouragement with a “restful” attitude. We tell ourselves (and others) that “I'm just not into that”, or “that's not my gift.”

By about 10:30, however, it was clear that the restful thing wasn't working. I needed to move. I called to Isaac and we threw water and snacks together and set off for tree line. My thought: hike about 15 minutes to tree line, sit down and just take in the view of the basin. When we got to tree line, Isaac and I took off our jackets, and applied sunscreen. That's when Isaac said he wanted to go on up to Bear Lake. I showed him the formidable outcropping of rocks, above and beyond which lay the lake – at least 1,000 feet above us and at least a mile off. Then I told him the decision was completely up to him. He wanted to go. So we set off.

A half hour into our journey, we saw some of our own group up ahead. Clearly we were moving at a pace fast enough to catch them. I let Isaac set the pace and he pressed on even faster. Within a few minutes we caught up to the three guys at what we now call “Ketch-up” rock. We rested for a couple minutes then started off again. Soon we arrived at the fork in the trail. The left fork went to the lake (we had already gained that 1,000 ft in less than an hour), and the other way went to the summit of Mt. Harvard. I asked Isaac what he wanted to do. “I want to do Harvard,” was his reply. So, with one of the three guys, we took the right fork and continued to climb.

I watched in amazement for the next two hours as Isaac hiked and hiked. Only a couple times did he express real weariness. We stopped, I massaged his burning leg muscles, we breathed, we ate snacks and drank water. We talked about the glory of God in nature. Then we continued.
At one point in our climb, as I watched my son's 9 year old frame pressing the trail ahead of me, I was overcome with emotion. Where had this sudden, unknown strength come from? I had no idea he had such determination in his little heart. His motivation was taking me along with him. His resolve was more powerful than my discouragement. My demotivation had been swallowed up in just trying to keep up with him.

The closer we got to the summit, the more determined he became. After I told him the story of the “Little Engine that Could”, he never even paused. No more breaks. We just kept going until - 3 hours, 2 miles and 3,000 vertical feet into our “short little hike” - we stood together at the top of Mt. Harvard with our friend Cris. The absolute joy of realizing that unexpected goal is impossible to describe now. To see my son standing head and torso higher than the summit block was simply incredible.
Now that we're back down to a more earthly altitude, it seems as though God is speaking to me through this little experience. Though things went well while I was gone, I did have to honestly face the reality of those failures to effectively plan. But now, to prevent that from happening again, it almost seems like God's Spirit has unexpectedly taken off in front of me with a goal in mind that I'd previously thought to skip. He has come to me in my demotivation, before I was inspired by some lofty goal, and prompted the thing in my own heart. I'm inspired by motivation that has to be coming from somewhere other than my own self; there seems to be a growing interest in my heart in just getting those things done that I haven't wanted to do.

Maybe God taught me something through my son last weekend. Maybe He really is full of energetic surprises and motivations for my own life, that I didn't think were there. Maybe there's an unexpected but incredible result waiting up ahead.

I wonder what would happen if I just keep up with Him?

Giving Up Control

2009-07-20T06:16:00.000-07:00

"Every tree is known by its fruit"

So what about dogs?

I went for a walk this morning. My son and I, with some friends and their sons are planning a backpack trip into the Colorado mountains in late August. I need to crank up my cardio-vascular capabilities. So, I went for a walk.

I like to go about two miles. At the turn around point this dog came pretty close, barking, checking me out. It wasn't too worry-some. But then he started to follow me. I'm not sure where he lived, but it wasn't in the direction I was going. He kept following. He kept barking. And it was canine harassment. Period.

I turned around, started to run toward him and said in a stern voice, "Go home!" You have to admit, seeing a dog turn tail and run, especially an annoying, harassing dog, is a pretty funny sight. It seems that he got the message. After stopping and turning back around, I picked up three good sized rocks for dog-attack insurance. He didn't follow me any further.

I had to switch my bible to my other hand. Yeah.

And that's when I realized that what I had just read - that the heart of my life can be seen by the fruit of my life - made sense. And that's when I realized how permeating the need to control is to the human race.

For the most part, our lives are an endless round of trying to control the people and things around us. We "love" our spouses to manipulate them into "loving" us in return. We raise our voice with our kids so they will obey. We skew the facts with friends so they'll think better of us.

We threaten the neighbors dog so he'll stop following us.

Understand, I'm not talking about honestly defending myself from a threating animal or person. I do carry a knife in my pocket. I'm talking about manipulating the world around me in a way that disrespects the fair freedom of choice of people and animals in that world.

And religion does this all the time. When God Himself asked people to give offerings for the building of the wilderness tabernacle, He specifically mentioned that He only wanted gifts from a willing heart (Exodus 35.5). But how many church offering calls have you heard in which the ol' elder or pastor stepped to the mic to berate the congregation with guilt and shame 'cause the institution was behind on budget that month?

The same thing happens when we "persuade" (i.e. arm-twist) people into serving in ministries or on religious committees.

And when we do that, we have to close our Bibles and switch them to our other hand, because Father doesn't have anything to do with manipulating or forcing people. And at that point, the fruit of our lives reveals that our hearts have a lot to learn about our freedom-loving Father.

I suddenly felt stupid carrying those rocks. So I dropped them and switched the Bible in my hands again. Then I asked Father to write His heart's love for freedom on my own heart.

May you and your spiritual fellowship of friends share His same love for freedom.

Hearing Nothing But Peace

2009-07-17T06:47:00.001-07:00

Big time stress. Accident. Insurance. Lawyers. Friends flipping out. Shifting life foundations.

Driving into town the other day I found myself overwhelmed. So much stuff coming to a head all of a sudden - triggered by the urgent stress of Lisa's accident and its compounded problems but a completely different issue of a unexpected shift in life foundations. Interesting how something like that actually brings all the old, unresolved stuff in our hearts to the surface.

But Lisa and I were about to burst emotionally. Thankfully, Lisa's mom came right out from Florida at the time of the accident to give us a hand for a couple weeks. What a blessing! So, last Thursday, Lisa and I let Mom watch the kids while we headed out to the wilderness.
Well, not really, but sort of. We are so blessed to have a park less than 3 miles from our home that serves as an awesome retreat. Leave the parking lot, hike up into the ponderosa pines and you feel like your hundreds of miles away. Then, arriving at the ridge and looking south... you can see the Spanish Peaks and Sangre de Cristo range, both over a hundred miles away.

We took our bibles, folding chairs, some water. We sat in the sun. Watched the clouds roll off of Pikes Peak. Watched the swallows dart among the pines. Watched the hawks soar on the updrafts from the ridge.

And I didn't hear anything from God.

Nothing audible or overly impressive, that is. Every time I find myself in these kinds of situations I want nothing more than God to speak. Speak clearly, distinctly and directly to the issues that are confronting me. And there have been many times in my life when He has done just that. (Check out my podcast/blog called Spoons - I'll be sharing those kinds of stories over time.) But He doesn't aways do that. And this was one of those times.

What's so beautiful and revealing about the love of Father is that He did speak last Thursday without saying anything. After probably four hours sitting at His feet, feeling some frustrations and confusion, Lisa and I got up to leave. We hiked back to the car, stopped at some friends house on the way home for a couple minutes, and kissed the kids when we came in the door at home. By the time we went to bed, we both realized that Father had infused us both with a sense of peace.

It was a peace based on nothing but a gifting from Him. No intellectual revelations. No insights. Not one single change of one single circumstance. Just His presence of peace.

And that is the clear and amazing voice of Father to my own soul. Wow. He is so thoughtful, so concerned, so personal and intimate. So concerned about the details of our lives.

And, I'm pretty sure He's got my whole world in His hands.