timbslim

Lessons for Canned Sausages - Inspired by Arnold Brown

2009-09-12T12:43:00.000-07:00

I heard a can top pop open and peel back. A strange smell crossed my nose. I had smelled it before. All of a sudden, it came to me, Vienna Sausages. I was sitting on the Mall in Washington D.C. I was there for the 1997 Promise Keepers rally. There were over a million men that day. It was hot; that made the odor worse. I thought to myself, “Who in the world opens Vienna Sausages in the heat of the day on the Mall at D.C.?” I turned my head to look behind me. There was the culprit, Arnold Brown.
I was reminded of this story when I saw a can of Vienna Sausages while traveling in the southern region of Afghanistan. At the sight of them, my memory was flooded with images and thoughts of a particular event and a wonderful person.
Many of you don’t know Arnold. Arnold was an older man, at that time about 50 plus. I know that isn’t old for all you 50 year olds. But Arnold had aged a little more in his 50 years. Arnold had a slow intellect. He made up for it with heart. Somewhere along the way, Arnold became a fixture on all of our trips – youth, men, and adult trips. It didn’t matter where or when we left, Arnold was there.
I remember one time that Wayne Jones, I believe, said that when he got to the church to get the bus ready for a trip that Arnold slipped out of the shadows beneath the light pole. Wayne asked him how long he had been waiting. Arnold said that he got there around 4:30am. He didn’t want to miss a trip. As I think back, I am glad that he didn’t.
So sitting on the Mall in D.C., I caught a whiff of Vienna Sausages. As I watched Arnold methodically prepare to eat the gross food object, I learned something that day. You see, Arnold may be slow; but he was practical. For years, on the few occasions that I had actually eaten Vienna Sausages, the process of getting started properly had eluded me. The question has always been, “How do you get that middle one out and get started?” You can dig it out with your finger. But, that is messy and gross, like you would actually be worried about getting it on your fingers. I mean, they are processed pork pieces. Getting it on your fingers should be your least concern. The other method, and my preferred, would be to use a utensil to dig it out. Then use the utensil to easily extract the remaining sausages. But, you still don’t extract a perfectly whole sausage. Either way, damage is done.
It took a trip to D.C. with Arnold Brown to learn how to effectively extract a Vienna Sausage. If you have a weak constitution, beware! After noticing that it was Arnold breaking out the sausages, I became interested as I watched him prepare to consume them. The moment of discovery came. You see, Arnold took the can. He drank the disgusting juice from the can. I need to mention here for the sake of effect that Arnold had not one tooth in his head. Now, that doesn’t mean that he had no teeth. They just were not in his head. While he was eating Shrimp in New Orleans once, tails and shells included, I asked him, “Arnold why don’t you have your teeth?” He answered, “I do.” Seeing him struggling to eat shrimp with the tails and shells I had to ask, “Where are they?” Patting his chest he said, “They are in my shirt pocket.” Well of course they are, I thought. Where else would your teeth be Tim? So anyway, he drank the juice from the can. Here is where I was enlightened. He then wrapped his lips completely around the top of the open can (for greater suction) and sucked the middle sausage out. By the way, there was literally a pooping sound when the middle one shot out. Now why didn’t I think of that? From there it was easy. He reached his index finger in and pulled out the remaining sausages fully intact.
Simple things, simple people make life good. Sitting on a hillside watching a sunset. That doesn’t take intellect. It only takes the ability to appreciate beautiful things. Taking time with a small child who is alone. That only takes a few minutes. Noticing something positive about someone who is constantly bombarded with negative statements. It takes simple consideration. Getting the middle sausage out of the can. It takes practical reasoning. These are the things that you miss when you run through life so quickly attempting get it all done better and faster, attempting to please people who really don’t care.
Arnold Brown – simple. Arnold Brown – a joy to have known. Arnold Brown will always be remembered by a group of ragamuffin believers at Blooming Grove Baptist Church.

Remembering a Hero

2009-09-03T11:43:00.000-07:00

This is my message at a PFC’s Memorial recently. I have changed the names and locations due to OPSEC (Operational Security). I was on a mission in the Southern Region of Afghanistan. By God’s design, I met this Soldier as we were waiting on a bird to catch a ride out to the forward positions. It would be the last time I would see him alive.
I rode shotgun in the vehicle with PFC Joe on the way to the holding tent in the Southern Region of Afghanistan. We were the first to arrive as I recall. I couldn’t see him in the vehicle. He sat directly behind me. We all talked about where we were from. I remember PFC Joe being from Louisiana.
We got to the tent. I believe it was PFC David that asked if I knew how to play gin rummy. It had been 20 years since I had played. I attempted to play. It wasn’t going too well for me. Joe was playing just across from me. He was a vibrant young man. I remembered him saying that he was going to Ripley. Every time SSG Brown or someone would ask to clarify, Joe was quick to shout out that he was going to Ripley. He wanted it to be known that he was not going to Bullhorn. That is the last that I remember of him.
My assistant woke me early Thursday morning at Bullhorn and told me that there was a KIA from Ripley. I soon would realize that it was my traveling companion and card playing acquaintance the day before.
John 15:13 says, “Greater love has no one than this that he lay down his life for his friends.”
It is not likely that PFC Joe woke up the morning of his honor and said, “I might give my life in this mission.” I am sure that the thought that possibility was there. But like most of us, these events usually come as a surprise no matter how prepared we are. I don’t know what he was considering on that morning. But on Thursday morning, PFC Joe would be face-to-face with this reality.
PFC Joe may not have been considering all the friends and countless others for whom he would make the ultimate sacrifice. But, he had committed to a cause greater than himself. He had given his life into the service of our great Nation.
Like all of you, PFC Joe raised his hand on April 8th, 2008 and stated that he swore to support and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic. At that moment, PFC Joe gave himself to the service of our Nation. His service was short-lived, but none diminished by time. In this short time, he gave all of himself for all of us.
PFC Joe’s sacrifice seems unjust when considered in the constraints of the moment. It would be very easy for those who knew him well to be angry, hurt, and without a remedy. Some may wonder about God’s purpose or even if a loving God could allow such a tragedy. I say that those are normal and even expected reactions. None of these questions are unfair or unjust. They are normal emotions and responses to the sting of death. Only time can heal such wounds. Only God can bring comfort into this deep sorrow. I mourn with you the loss of PFC Joe’s. He was a Soldier I would have been pleased to know better.
PFC Joe will leave behind a great void to those who knew him and loved him. Those left behind will struggle to find meaning and purpose from day-to-day. First, I encourage you to simply hold on. Hold onto all that is dear to you. Hold onto to those whom you love that remain with you. You will need one another. You will need to lean heavily on one another. Second, hold onto God’s constant hand. You may be angry with God. You may not want to even believe in God. I simply ask you to speak your heart to Him. He’s big enough to take your pain. He will deliver you from the dark and dismal days. Though He seem distant, He is near to the broken-hearted.
This is what David said in Psalm 23, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the quiet waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You have anointed my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and loving-kindness will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Today, I say “Thank You” to the family of PFC Joe. He gave his life for our Nation. He gave his life for his friends. No greater commitment and no greater love can be displayed but that a man lay day his life so that we can enjoy the freedoms with which God has blessed us. Today, I salute a Hero. Today, we honor PFC Joe.
May God bless the family, loved ones, and friends of PFC Bobby Joe . Father, bring comfort in this time of loss and grief. Be a tangible strength and help in the days to come.

We Have Cobras

2009-08-11T12:22:00.000-07:00

We have freakin cobras over here. Yes, you heard it right. There are cobras in Afghanistan, what wonderful news to hear when you arrive. There is a poster in our building that has the poisonous snakes listed, with pictures. It is a bit disconcerting to see the cobra listed with a visual. There is even a poster that warns that cobras can get into the toilets. Believe it or not, there is a picture of a cobra in a freakin toilet. Seriously? Is someone just messing with me? Because that crap is serious. I mean a cobra in the toilet. It is bad enough that you are going to die quickly once bitten by a cobra. But, do you also have to lose all of your dignity as well.
“What happened to Tim in Afghanistan?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? He was bitten by a cobra.”
“Really?”
“Yeah”
“Where?”
“Uh, well, he was on the toilet.”
“On the what?”
“On the toilet.”
“He was bitten by a cobra while sitting on a toilet?”
“Yeah”
“Was the toilet outside?”
“No”
“I don’t understand.”
“He was sitting on a toilet. A cobra was in there and it bit him?”
“Where ?”
“Well, he was sitting on the toilet. I mean….the cobra just bit him.”
“Is he ok?”
“The cobra or Tim?”
“Tim!”
“No he’s dead.”
“He died?”
“Of course, it was a cobra.”
“But, he died on the toilet? He didn’t get shot by the Taliban?”

I actually stared at the picture of the cobra, in the toilet, on that poster. I said to my assistant, “Do you see that?” We were both puzzled. Guess what I do every time I got to the toilet. I check it for cobras, a practice I can’t wait to discontinue once back in the states.
Now when I stand a top the wall and look over at the farmers in the field next to us, I have a newly found respect for them. Cause those cobras are out there. There are other snakes here. I really don’t care. My eye is on the lookout for the one that spreads its head flat. I may not see one while I am here. I kind of would like to. But, that may be an adventure that would even cause me to shrink back a little.
I thought that the sand, the heat, the shower being 50 yards from my room, the toilets being 50 yards from my room, and other inconveniences were bad. I believe that the cobra has won out over all those.

My Mosaic

2009-08-01T13:21:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, I saw the most beautiful mosaic as I walked into the church from the foyer. The church was near the Sea of Galilee. The mosaic was the first thing I noticed. From a distance, all the pieces formed a harmonious image. I stood at the back for a while, to take it all in. I moved a little closer, about half way. As I approached, the pieces began to stand out. It was still easy to see the intent of the art. But, the pieces were now taking on their own identity. I got even closer. Now, I was only ten feet away. I could easily see each piece of the mosaic. The whole image was more difficult to discern. I got close enough to touch the wall. I saw each piece of the mosaic so individually that I had lost the image that they once made.
The pieces of the mosaic were truly unique. None of them possessed shared symmetry. One piece was brown. Another would be blue. One piece might almost be square. Another would be not quite triangular. There were long pieces, short pieces, glass pieces, and more. Some of the pieces were beautiful. Some of them didn’t even deserve to be trampled under foot on a dirt road. Some looked polished. Others were ragged and ugly.
“Shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity,” (Job 2:10). If you are wondering about the context of this, let me help. Job had also just stated, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord,” (Job 1:21). Job had just encountered the most difficult time of his life. And now, he is accepting the bad because he knows that God is still good. The debate here is not does God allow or does God dish out bad things for our long-term benefit. It seems obvious if he states it so plainly. Job says specifically that we must learn to accept bad from God if we are going to willingly receive the good from God. The next question you have to ask yourself is, “If the bad we receive from the hand of God makes us more like Him, then is it really bad.” Humans don’t often respond to warnings. They almost always respond to consequences. This does not imply that bad things only occur when we do wrong. It would be wrong to ever imply that. Bad things often occur when we don’t see the future. God may have brought bad times to help us avoid worse times. Bad times drive us more deeply into the heart of God. Or, He may have brought pain for an even greater purpose. But, this isn’t even my main concern.
My biggest concern is whether or not we began to accept the good and the bad as a means to live fully in the reality of who God made us to be. It is simple to live in the good moments. It is no challenge at all to accomplish this. But, to live in the bad moments, now that’s a challenge. But, we are never more like Christ than when we live in the most difficult times of our lives.
God is creating a masterpiece with our lives. We are His kids. In the same way that God loves pouring out good things on us, He also has to put up roadblocks. The crazy part is that He does all of this with great care. He carefully places each piece of the mosaic in our lives. We like to think that we are artists placing the pieces of our lives where we want them. But, it’s not true. God puts all the pieces in place. There are days, and even seasons, when He uses beautiful pieces. He carefully places those. There are times, and even seasons, when He uses ugly pieces – We question His judgment in these times. We wonder why is it necessary to have the ugly pieces in our masterpieces. He places these as carefully as he did the beautiful pieces. The Artist never wearies. Moment by moment He is making us just as He planned from the beginning.
I don’t see it today. But, I own all of it. “For I am confident of this very thing that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus,” (Philippians 1:6). God is faithfully putting me together good and bad. I am becoming a mosaic work of art. If someone were to look closely he or she might see some beautiful pieces. Likewise, he or she might see some ugly pieces, pieces I don’t want to share. God sees the work of art that He is creating. I like to imagine sometimes how the mosaic of my life will look when I see it completed. I want to stand back and admire it from a distance. Then, I want to get close, run my fingers across the jagged and ugly pieces, and smile. Who knew that I was a masterpiece?

Pain is Good

2009-07-21T12:24:00.000-07:00

Unbelievably hot, and, I found myself hiking the ridge of a mountain range at the Pakistan border. It was 130 degrees. It was my assistant, Thompson, and I. We had flown into Torkham on a bird. The helicopter ride was great, rolling in and out of the mountain passes. At one point, I could have almost reached out and touched the face of a mountain. In reality, it was a good 30 yards away. It’s just that I have never flown past a mountain that closely, but, back to Torkham. Unbelievably hot, and up the ridge we went.
Thompson and I were walking around on the FOB. We began to talk to some guys about the mountain ridge that led up to some stuff that will remain undisclosed. In the conversation, one of the guys said, “You should hike up there; it’s beautiful. My immediate response, of course, “That would be great.” So, off we went. Thompson didn’t decry going then. There were too many men around. He had to look at least as willing as I was. His willingness would wane. He will greatly appreciate me pointing out this fact.

It certainly wasn’t the biggest or even the most difficult hike I have ever done. However, it was certainly the hottest. The best way to describe it is to imagine walking around in a large oven that has rocks in it. On occasion, there was that stiff breeze. I know what you are thinking – how nice, a breeze. Let me help you with that thought. Imagine a gigantic Clairol hair dryer being held directly in your face. That is the kind of breeze to which I am referring. If I am not mistaken, Torkham was the runner up for where Satan would be sent when he was thrown out of heaven. Hell won out by a slight margin.

We made it to the top of the ridge. I don’t remember how high it was. This is probably due to the fact that my body was focused on surviving a heat stroke. We took some pictures. They are good. I hope to get them up on my blog soon. Then, we headed back down.

If I didn’t mention it, we were in our full uniform, boots included. If you have been visualizing this entire adventure with us in shorts, t-shirts, and running shoes, you would be horribly mistaken. By the time we reached the bottom, people were asking us if we needed medical attention. We both declined. I am not sure that was a wise decision. We were literally soaked through our clothing. We returned just in enough time to get a drink of water and for me to conduct a brief communion and short Bible study. I was in rare form.

It can take a long hard journey to see something great. That we did on this day. I wouldn’t take anything for it. It isn’t the first time I have experienced this (read about my hike in the Grand Canyons at timbslim.blogspot.com). But, it was a reminder. We stood on top of a ridge. We saw unique and beautiful landscapes. We saw Pakistan. A lot of sweat and energy was spent. Remaining is a lifetime of vivid memories.

Great living comes out of the crucible of life. You can’t really live until you have really hurt. Maybe this seems contradictory. I just know it to be true. My dad used to quote someone that I can’t remember at this time. He would say that a man can’t be greatly used by God until he is greatly broken. Maybe the words were a bit different. The truth still remains.

I don’t want to sound like a preacher right now. That is the last thing I usually desire. The day I swoop my hair (what’s left of it) and spray it to my head is the day I want someone to slap silly. Here is the truth: Brokenness brings deep and abiding joy and peace.

“That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His SUFFERINGS, being conformed to His death” (Phil 3:10). I’d like to camp out in the first part of this verse, knowing Him in resurrection power. That would be great; living in total and absolute control of life, exercising great power and strength in all situations and circumstances. Who in his or her right mind wouldn’t choose this? Paul just had to add the next part, knowing Him in “the fellowship of His SUFFERINGS conformed to His death.” Well that just blows. Paul is saying that I can live in resurrection power. He is saying that I can have abundant life. However, that abundant living and resurrection life comes by death and suffering. Hope you weren’t looking for magic. This is real stuff.

I remember something else my dad said once. He went to Quincy’s to eat with a pastor. He said that the pastor did or said something that deeply troubled or even hurt him. He also told me that he had prayed that day to understand more about what it means to suffer like Christ. His prayer was answered.

Climbing a mountain ridge in Afghanistan, in 130 degree weather is physically tough. Living through great pain, heartache, suffering, periods of sinfulness, distance from God, etc… can be debilitating. One has the tendency to cry out and eventually want to just give in completely. If you have ever been there, you know. Exasperation, defeat after defeat mounts up. One wonders if ever there will be a day when life will once again return to at least a semblance of normality. It never does. Life is always different after such struggles. But, is it different in a bad way; it doesn’t have to be

God uses ragamuffins, outcasts, downtrodden, broken, left in the dirt, alcoholics, whores, gossips, tax cheaters, shady businessmen, lonely, bipolar….. people. He comes to the weak. He raises the wounded. He dusts off their knees. He tells whores who have washed His feet with their tears and wiped them with their hair, “Your sins are forgiven.”

If you have hurt, you are near His heart. If you have fallen apart, you have great strength in Him. You might just be at the beginning of living in resurrection power. Are you out of energy? Have you passed what seems like the point of no return? Then, you are right where He wants you. You have tasted the sufferings of Jesus. A new day is dawning. Stay in the pain long enough to drink in the suffering of Jesus. Then, run in absolute freedom, power, and joy in Him.

Honor of a Soldier

2009-07-14T11:04:00.000-07:00

I grabbed the front right handle of the gurney. The eight of us pulled it from the Blackhawk. It was dark. The wind from the rotors was violent. The sound drowned out the possibility of conversation. It wouldn’t have mattered. Conversation was not necessary, nor was it fitting. It was difficult to see. It was hot. It was calm.
My assistant, Thompson, was immediately to my left, holding the front as well. We made our way across the flight line. The fallen hero was draped in an American flag, the most fitting garment for his honor. He had taken his final breath defending freedom. He never knew that I would be retrieving him that night. He pushed forward with little if any concern for himself. Now I, and my comrades, had the privilege of giving him the honor due him.
We walked about 150 yards from one bird to the other. Once we got out from under the rotors of the delivering bird stillness gripped the moment. It was like slow motion. We approached the departing bird. It was still, not a movement. As we closed in on it, I noticed two soldiers posted by the side-loading door. It was dark. It was only when I was about 20 yards away that I realized they were standing at attention, saluting. We slowed our approach out of final respect for one worthy of such tradition. Thompson and I placed the front two handles of the gurney on the chopper floor. We jumped in and helped pull him into to a resting place for the journey. All of us then stood back. Slowly and deliberately, we saluted – 3 seconds up, 3 seconds hold, 3 seconds down with our hands. We walked away. The chopper fired up. Soon he was gone.
There are many soldiers here, fighting a war. Today, there is one less. There will unfortunately be more once you have read this.
I’ll be short today. Not much else to say. I was thinking just before writing this that I need to write something funny. It’s difficult to write something comical in light of this. Don’t read too much into this somber trend. Soon I’ll write funny stuff.

Afghan Update #4

2009-07-12T16:55:00.000-07:00

The treacherous landscape was displayed in my window as we darted through the majestic mountains of the Afghanistan countryside. I sat with my face in the window for the entire journey. Seeing things through the portal of a helicopter here is a view that is unparalleled. The mountains are jagged and barren. I imagine them in late Fall and Winter with snow, maybe in the Spring with brush strokes of green - but not much. It takes a tough plant to survive these conditions. Green is a scant sight here. Doesn't matter; the view from my seat was exhilarating. It is the kind of feeling that you get when you take in a deep breath, enraptured by images that catch you for the first time. The whole experience was like standing where time ceases to tick. Many thoughts flooded my mind.

In the mountains I would see the occasional tent or lean-to dwelling. Once we entered the flatlands, there were more. I began to think to myself, “How does a person live in a tent in this arid place?” But, there they were spotted across the land. Some areas had houses that had been constructed. They were built out of hand-crafted blocks. It was like going back in time. I thought that I had stepped back about 2,000 years, except that I was in a helicopter.

Here, there are the everyday things that a war dumps on your, once, nominal life. All of this became a distant memory as I recounted the story that the images from my view were telling. It was a story of God. It was a story of someone Who makes all things difficult vanish into nothingness, even if just for a moment. As I gazed across the landscape, I remembered this story. This story isn't different, no. It isn't something that I heard for the first time that day. And though it is not different, it somehow is. I mean, every time I hear it, see it, or experience it through some tangible sense, it resonates deeper. It causes me to think more clearly about it. Something new is revealed each time. Maybe I am making no sense. It's just that I heard, or saw, and old, old story again. And, I was reminded once more of my hope, my salvation.

I was reminded of who I am in Christ. I was reminded of the Christ that I am to others. I was reminded that all of this is not because of me, but because of Jesus. I told a wonderful struggling soldier just yesterday that I have nothing to give. I have nothing else to say. I told him that I just know that he needs Jesus. It may sound simplistic. It may sound like I am from Alabama. Ok, then, let it be so.

Over the years, I have allowed an old, old story to become a polished, inoffensive, request. Dress it up however we like, it is the story of Jesus. It is a story of Him dying for my sins. It is a story of Him forgiving me. It is a story of me living in freedom. This story tells me that I am alright in His care. I could tell all these wonderful soldiers that developing coping skills and looking inwardly will get them through this war. I would be kidding them and myself. Last week, I prayed with a group of soldiers before a mission. This week, one of those soldiers paid the ultimate sacrifice. Not a lot of time here to work a ministry plan that will attract middle to high income churchites to visit me at the chapel. Only time to tell them what it has taken me 37 years to understand as deeply as I do today, that they need Jesus.

Maybe what I am writing is too prosaic. Maybe this too, is me attempting to place my words so that they impact others. So, I should summarize. I rode on a chopper through Afghanistan. It was amazing. God reminded me of an old, old story. It is the story that gets me through each day.

One might wonder how I got all this from a chopper ride through the mountains. It is a good question. For those who know God the way I know Him, it is no mystery. To those whose hearts are empty and searching for a place to call home today, it is still hidden, but not out of reach.

It is barren here. It is hot. Water becomes your best friend. The environment can destroy you if you don’t prepare. People here are durable and live simple lives. I have learned to live a much simpler life just being here. Something about flying through the mountains and seeing life from a different vantage point seems to have made an indelible mark on this 37 year old man. This mark caused the story to resonate deeply: It’s not about me, the soldiers, or even the Afghans. Somehow, the old, old story points us right back God.

Afghan Update #3

2009-07-12T16:53:00.000-07:00

I am sitting in my Chapel here at my Forward Operating Base (FOB). I am listening to a guy play a cello. Yep, a soldier brought his cello. I am watching him drag his bow across the chords as he plays a song called “Majesty.” This cellist joined our praise band last week. His music puts the finishing touch on the worship. As he plays, my heart is warmed. It is so unusual to be here and to be practicing for worship for Sunday. Somehow it doesn’t seem right. Yet, it seems perfect.

My assistant and I suited up in full battle gear today, adding about 40 lbs. We drove over to the Entry Control Point (ECP). This is the main gate. There we walked around and talked with the soldiers who work that detail. They stand in the heat, some days in the 130’s, and guard the entrance. They do this in 13 hour shifts (one hour is a lap over). They do all this in full gear. So, my assistant and I decided to spend some of the day with them. It didn’t take long for me to be drenched in sweat and my back to hurt from the weight of my gear. We were only there for about an hour and a half. We got back in the vehicle and drove to the office. The soldiers at the ECP stayed behind to protect our gate.

Each soldier here has an enormous burden of work. It is all different. There is no way to describe it all. But, they work hard. Each soldier here has a context. So in addition to the work, they have a story. I haven’t heard them all at this point. But, I have heard a lot of them.

One soldier came to me the 2nd day of our journey here. We were in Kyrgyzstan. Remember, this was the 2nd day. He said, “I have three kids. I have been married for 15 years. My wife just told me on the phone that she is leaving me.” This soldier continued with me here to Afghanistan. He works every day. I see him often. I speak little. I pat him on the back. I just want him to know that I really care.

Another soldier sits by himself at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He doesn’t talk to anyone. He is a bit over weight. He is talked about by others. Sitting at lunch one day, I looked at him. I began to tear up. “I wonder what it feels like to be him today”; I thought. He is older than most soldiers his rank. What hurts does he carry around that no one knows. I walked by. I put my hand on his shoulder. I made a light-hearted comment, laughed, and smiled. The next day, my assistant and I sat with him for a meal. I talked a lot (easy to believe). I had to work the conversation hard. He wasn’t used to conversing. He has never had a lot of chances to practice with people speaking with him. He managed to answer politely. But, he never engaged fully. I guess the last time he tried, he might have been shot down, possibly humiliated. Kick a dog enough, he will quit barking.

These are a couple of the many stories. All of them aren’t sad. Some are great and happy. But everyone struggles in some way.

My greatest struggle is keeping my eye on the ball. Cutting out time to sit with my DADDY is difficult. I have to be creative. Recently, I walked up by the south wall. There, I could see Afghan farmers working the fields. I mean, really working them, by hand. It is a beautiful crop they have. I don’t even know what it is. It isn’t opium (for the wise guys out there). I looked over them and prayed. Huge mountains form their backdrop. It was some sweet time. It wasn’t long-lived.

It’s a great job. It poses many challenges. But, it is a great job. Every day there is a chance to make a difference. It might be by walking around with soldiers at the ECP. It might be by a hand on the shoulder of a lonely soldier. It might be listening to a COL vent. Every day is a day to be thankful and to offer what I have, little as it may be.

Afghan Update #2

2009-07-12T16:50:00.000-07:00

Today I am sitting in my office. There is a normalizing sound that permeates my "B" Hut. It is the sound of baby birds chirping. There are baby birds in the wall where my air conditioning unit lines are placed. It's good to hear. It is good to hear because I hear it over all the other strange and awkward noises of a Forward Operating Base (FOB). There is the occasional sound of gunfire. Sometimes it is gunfire from our ranges. Sometimes it is the real deal. There is the occasional sound of an explosion. Usually, that one is real. These aren't as common as you might be thinking, except the gunfire. There is the sound of a huge generator that powers a Pizza Hut next to my office. You might say, "I bet Tim loves that." You would be wrong. I hate Pizza Hut. I don't like pizza, for a later conversation. But, the birds provide me with something different.

I call the baby birds a normalizing and familiar sound for my day. I have heard baby birds before today. I have heard them at home. So, it is like a piece of home in Afghanistan. Now, I don't know if they are chirping in Pashtu. But frankly, I don't even know English bird chirping. So, I cannot say that I am an expert in the chirping linguistics. I am sure that it is Pashtu chirping though. I just know that it isn't annoying like it should be. At home, I would probably try to move the nest; I don't know. It would likely annoy me, but not today. Today it is comforting. It is familiar. It is a slight shift in my perspective.

Another shift in my perspective occurred the other day. You may have read or seen news of the rocket attack in Bagram last weekend. One of my soldiers lost his leg from the knee down. He sustained other injuries. He should be recovering now at another location. Well, I was shaving the next day. My razor had fallen off the case in to my shaving kit. I reached in and grabbed it. I shaved off the corner of my thumb, just a piece. The first thing I thought or said I will leave as a mystery. The second, and almost immediate thought was, "I have my leg." It ceased to even be an issue at that moment.

I stood on the flight line as the FOB Chaplain yesterday as the medevac choppers came in. They unloaded a number of soldiers (Can't disclose details at this time due to Secret policy). I watched them be wheeled to the vehicles and shortly to the Med Station where I met them. They were sons, fathers, brothers etc... I watched over them and prayed for them. As they wheeled them from the choppers to the vehicles, tears pooled around my eyes. These brave me are somebody’s babies, dads.....

I am doing well. But, doing well doesn't mean that I don't feel the pain of those around me. We have just begun. There will be more of this unfortunately. There will also be some great stuff. I spend 99% of my time full and happy about what I do. It is only occasionally that it is hard. So, don't worry about me. I am doing well. I even went to a party last night.

The Afghan Security Guard hosted an event for us last night. I ate the local food and I lived through it. It was actually very good. They played music for us. A group of Afghans danced for us. I eventually joined them. It was a lot of fun. Some of the other officers were dancing with me. I am sure you know that I was acting a fool. We had a great time. Soon, I will have pictures. They will be great.

Keep our soldiers in your daily prayers. We are making a difference here. I spoke with a leader of the Afghan Army last night. He could not stop talking about the changes here. He spoke of hope. He spoke of new days. I see it in their eyes. This ancient, war-torn land has truly tasted what can be. They are determined and hungry for it. From what I gather from my comrades, it is different from Iraq somewhat in that sense. It is fresh, new life for them.

The birds are still chirping. They will chirp for a while, then go. They must lean on their mother right now until they can stretch their wings and fly on their own. Isn't that funny? Maybe, just maybe, Afghanistan will fly one day, all by itself.

Serving the Best Men and Women Today,
CH (CPT) Brown

Afghan Update #1

2009-07-12T16:36:00.000-07:00

08Jun09/Monday/8:16 pm

I am on the greatest and most uncertain adventure of my life. Adventure here doesn’t mean that I am going on a thrill ride. For the first time in my life, adventure means that I am going into danger. I certainly don’t want to play that up; I feel that I will be cared for and safe. But, I am entering a war zone. Men and women do it all the time, every day. They have done this throughout history. Today, however, it is real to me. Today, I have set out to walk as many who have gone before me.

I have sung the national anthem on many occasions. I have said the pledge of allegiance to the United States more than I can enumerate. Something has shifted within in me this last year. I have been an active duty officer in the US Army for one year today. When I hear the national anthem or say the pledge of allegiance today, my throat closes up, tears fill my eyes. It is different to me now. I have walked with soldiers for a year. I have seen what they do. Certainly, there are some who care less than others. There are some who are just waiting until their contract is up. But, there are others. These others work diligently to secure our freedom. These others pour their lives into defending the defending our country. These others live out fully the commitment to serve. I am flying now toward the Middle East. Afghanistan will be my home for the next 12 months. For the past several months I have come to know these soldiers, men and women like you and I. I pray that we all would return together. It is unlikely to be true. What lies ahead is in no way evident to me. There will be good days. There will be bad days. For now, that is all I know.

So what will I do for the next 12 months? I have one option, and one option only. I will “trust in the Lord with all of my heart. I will not lean on my own understanding. In all my ways, I will acknowledge Him. And, He will direct my path,”( Prov. 3:5&6). I have stepped out in faith many times in my life. Other times my faith has been weak, anemic. Today, I am not sure if I have strong faith or if I am just following because I have no other option than to trust in the Lord. Is that too honest? I do know this: I am where I need to be. Some might argue with that. I have a statement for those people. It isn’t a debate. God has placed me just where I am. To answer the question of what I will do, it is just this simple; I will trust in the Lord. Obviously I will do much in the next 12 months. Saying that I will only trust may sound irresponsible to some. For those who know me, you realize that I won’t possibly just sit around. I am saying that there is no way to complete this mission in my strength. Notice that I didn’t say there was no way to complete this mission in my strength alone. That would imply that I would be assisting God. I am banking solely upon Him doing this in me. That is it. For those who are still struggling with the idea of Grace and God doing everything, I will go ahead and give you something to chew on as well. Because right now, you guys still want some concrete answers about what I will actually be doing. But to be clear, God will be doing these things through me.

I will be praying, praying that I have strength to see young men and women wounded and likely killed in battle. I will be loving them with deep and abiding love that I can only tap because the author of love lives in me and is overflowing out of me. I will hear the hurts of lives that have been tattered and torn from the pains of life. I will share Jesus with people who need him like never before. I will pray with my security team as they prepare to defend me and escort me through God knows what. I will bond with men and women who have given up so much to attain for us freedom that costs so much. I will cry with some. I will laugh often. I will live and bloom right where God has placed me. I will strive to soak up every moment knowing that there will be moments that I want, and need, and hurt as well. I will share my hurt. I will grow in godliness. I will lean on Jesus like I really believe what He says is true. I will find Him in the darkness of terror. I will take light to that darkness. He will dispel it. I will stand back when others say, “Chaplain, thank you.” I will say to them, “I could never have done that; it must be Jesus.”

My mom, dad, sister, niece, and an aunt and uncle spent the last few days with me in my home. It was a wonderful time. I left them today. It was difficult. They hugged me and cried. I knew my mom would struggle. She did. But, my aunt and uncle showed me something today that struck me deeply. They showed me how difficult this is for them as well. As I embraced them, my parents, sister, and niece I was emboldened in the difficulty to live large in the days to come, to pour myself out for God and Country. Today is a good day to fight a war. Today is a good day to serve this country. Today is a good day to serve my King.

Moments Matter

2008-07-21T18:10:00.001-07:00

I went to my first regimental ball last Friday night. It was a formal affair. I had to wear my dress blues. You can see the pictures to clarify. You can also see that I busted out with my dance moves after the dinner was over. As most of you can imagine, I can work a dance floor. By work, I mean that I can sweat profusely. I didn’t do too bad a job. The picture you will see of me is me doing the “electric slide.” Yes I said that I was doing the “electric slide.” I did a couple other dances and dance moves that I am not sure exist. I made up some of them. It was a pretty fun event. For those of you who are familiar with it, there was a grog bowl. It would take to long to explain. Just ask someone or google it. It is a tradition.

The Chief of Chaplains was at the formal. He spoke. He is a General. He is also Southern Baptist. When I left the dance floor, I realized that he was standing there watching. Not my finest moment. I went over to him, sweat dripping, literally, from my forehead. I shook his hand, placed my hand on his back, and said, “Please don’t tell the other Southern Baptist that I was dancing.” He looked at me, motioned with his two fingers from his eyes to mine, and said, “This is between you and me.” I thought that was mighty nice of him. It is a good thing that he has a sense of humor. Otherwise, that could have been awkward.

It is the simple stuff that makes life good. I have figured out that life is really a whole bunch of simple moments tied together in sequence. This isn’t groundbreaking information. But, we do seem to forget that each moment adds up to a day, a week, a month, a year, and so on. It is that simple. I often forget this very basic reality of living. It can sap the joy right out of life.

I am not going to ramble on about my philosophical views. I will just say that I am re-learning how to enjoy each moment. I figure that I cannot predict the future. I cannot change certain realities. What I can do is attempt to enjoy the moment. I can smile when I want to scream. I can laugh when I want to cry. I can return a gentle word when I want to curse someone. I can give when I want to take. I can understand a man who is hurting rather than despise him for his hateful ways. I can love the unlovable. I can do all these things more effectively because I see that moments matter.

Called to Bring Glory

2008-06-29T19:08:00.000-07:00

It was about 82 degrees on a fairly breezy evening around 10:30pm. The weather had blessed us with the first relief in some time since I have been here. One hundred nineteen of us were scattered along the edge of the woods. We were awaiting our orders for a mock, night infiltration of a city. I have to say that I was not scared, but certainly anxious. I was worn to a nub. It had been a long week.

We were told to get into formation and insert our earplugs. We marched down into a trench with concrete walls on each side. We then awaited the order to go. This is where it really gets cool. At the signal, we scaled the trench wall and began a 100-meter high crawl to the end. A high crawl means that you are on your belly with your head looking forward. We climbed under live fire as well as random explosions. We also climbed under a couple of barbed wire obstacles. It was pretty sweet. This was the culmination of a long 3-day field training event.

We began our field training on Tuesday. We loaded up our duffle bags with our sleep systems, which included a winter and summer sleeping bag, two extra uniforms, etc… We also loaded up our ruck sacks. They held some equipment and another uniform. We put on our Individual Body Armor (IBA) and Kevlar Helmet. These aren’t light.

We spent 3 full days and two nights in the field. I sweated stuff I drank when I was two years old. I never sweated so much in my life. I wore the same ACU uniform for 3 and 1/2 days. I did change my underwear. This is important. Always have clean underwear.

Tuesday night, we marched out to the campsite. We didn’t get there until dark. Unpacking and setting up a cot in a tent at night is not the preferred way of operating. I was hunting stuff constantly. Plus, we got up the next day at dark, 4:30am. I had to shave from a canteen cup with a mirror that I brought. We were told that if we got up to go to the bathroom we had to be in uniform. I secured an empty Powerade bottle for the express purpose of avoiding getting dressed just to go pee.

Wednesday, we ran an obstacle course. It was pretty fun. But, it was hot. I got nasty the first day. This trend continued throughout the field training. That same day we also navigated using our newly acquired map reading skills. We used a protractor to plot points, get an azimuth, get distances, and use a compass to navigate. We did a day navigation and a night navigation.

Everything we did, we walked. There were times that we were hiking with an additional 70 lbs or so. It was not easy. It was like having an 8-year-old kid on your back. This is not the way to go. Remember it was also very hot. I smelled like a Krystal burger for about three days.
I kept having flashbacks throughout the training. I was remembering watching the news and seeing soldiers patrolling the streets of Iraq. You have probably seen it as well. These soldiers who are walking these streets are doing something amazing. First, they are constantly surveying danger. They are not strolling. They are in a tactical formation. They stagger themselves so that they diminish casualties. They are looking for someone who might kill them. It is a time of intense observation. Second, it looks as though they are lightly arrayed. They are not. They are carrying about 70 lbs of armor, weapons, ammunition, and more. Third, they are doing all of these things in extreme weather. It is hot in Iraq. Each time we marched in a tactical formation, I found myself thinking of how this will be in a real-time setting.

We returned to our campsite Wednesday evening. We crashed for a while and got up a few hours later to start Thursday. Once again, it was dark when I got up. It was off to the training again.

Wednesday we started by hooking up with some soldiers in training. They served as our Chaplain’s Assistants. We began with a day city infiltration. We followed a trainee who guarded each of us as we ran a course that was set up to mock moving through a city under fire. This was fun. There was a lot of running in short bursts from car to building, diving, and squatting. Following this, we did a low crawl in the middle of the day. It was hot. We did this in sand. I hate sand. But at some point, you do what you gotta do.

Let me enlighten you about a low crawl. They suck. This means that you are flat on your belly. Your head (Kevlar helmet) is in the sand. You can’t lift it. Then, you drag yourself for about 100 yards. I honestly thought I was going to have a heat stroke. It was unbelievably hot. Remember, I was doing all this with full gear on me.

We did a lot on Thursday. We did some medical training in the field. We did some training concerning our gas masks. We also did some strategic paint ball exercises. That was neat. The night ended with the live fire exercise. It was a great way to go out.

There is no way to get everything into a blog. We do a lot. The days are long. But, they are long in a good way.

I see young soldiers every day. These young men and women will most certainly heading straight from training to a war torn arena. They arrive here as kids. They grow up in a matter of weeks. They get a gun at the beginning that they don’t even know how to hold. By the end, they are shooting it at a man or woman they don’t even know. All of this happens in weeks.

Here I am. I am here to learn how to minister to these soldiers and their families. Some of these I will tell their families that they didn’t make it. Some of them I will tie on a tourniquet. Some of them I will listen to their pain and suffering at the loss of a limb. Some I will lead to Christ.

For such a time as this, I am called to be something that I have never been before. I am called to share something that they have never known. For such a time as this, I must leave the familiar and the comfortable. For such a time as this, I must stand as I have never stood before. For such a time as this, I have been graced by God to do just that.

There are people who read this blog that I love dearly. Some of you are my relatives. Some of you are my friends. I have never felt more compelled in my life to say to you what follows.

When I was 15, I was specifically called and chosen as a child of God. This has nothing to do with church stuff. It has everything to do with Jesus. At that moment, God enlightened me with salvation. He quickened me in my spirit. I knew that I was a sinner. I knew that I need salvation. He offered it to me. I knew that Jesus had died for my sins. I took stock of that. I believed it. I have to say that there is urgency in my life now to share this with you. Some of you may have wonderful and eloquent arguments. You may have good excuses as to why this has not been on your list of things to consider. You may even think that science preempts such discussion. I am telling you this: God loves you. He loves you in this way; that He gave up His Son for you. This Son lived a sinless life. He was crucified. God took Him out of that grave. He lives today as Your intercessor, as your means of salvation.

Some of you are tired of church. I am too. Some of you have used excuses of hurt and disappointment. Maybe you have become calloused and worn. I am not asking you to join some organization. I am asking you to respond to God’s call on your life. I am asking you to join me in something that is bigger than all of us combined. You who are reading these words have a calling with me as I do this ministry of the chaplaincy. It is to join me from your wherever you are in whatever way God leads you. You and I are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. You shine your light there. I will shine mine wherever He leads me.

I am praying that God, by His Spirit, will lead you in all truth. Know that I am thinking of you at this time. Know that I am praying for you at this time. Know that I love you. More than this, know that God loves you just now, just as you are, where you are, and especially if you think you are not worthy. That is right where you want to be.

Your servant, your friend,
Tim Brown

Why Are My Lungs on Fire?

2008-06-19T17:54:00.000-07:00

Why Are My Lungs on Fire?

I was about 5 years old riding down the road with my dad, and sister. My dad had borrowed a car from a college student. I don’t remember exactly why we borrowed the car. But, we did. This college student, Pam, evidently was quite prepared for a potential attacker. This would become evident soon.

We were in a bit of a hurry. So, my dad was driving at a greater than normal speed. This becomes a factor later in the story. We were driving down this particular two lane road to the airport to pick up some preacher. I don’t know who. At this point, I spotted a small container. I evidently couldn’t read well. All I recognized was that the word began with a “P.” I can still see it today.

I reached for the container and picked it up. I interpreted the word that began with a “P” to be Perfume. Immediately, I recounted that my dad didn’t like strong perfume. This conclusion lead me to the next logical and near fatal action. In my mind I envisioned my dad getting a slight sniff of this perfume after I had sprayed it not on but just across his nose. This caused me to think that this would be an acceptable and funny thing to do. I was gravely mistaken.

I picked up what was, in fact, a can of mace, evidently with a brand name that started with a “P.” As we barreled down the road, I spayed the mace just in front of my dad’s nose. It was lights out for him. I don’t have to tell you what careening uncontrollably down a road in, now, an unmanned car will do to a 5 year-old. The only way I know to put it is that there was no longer any Hell left in me to scare out. My sister was stricken with the same fear.

Daddy somehow gained himself, not his sight yet, and blindly maneuvered the car off the road onto a primitive dirt road. Only God did that. He couldn’t see yet. He shoved the car door open, fell to the ground, and began to behave in a way that my 5 year-old eyes had yet seen. Christy and I thought he might be dying. Daddy managed to gain full control some time later. Evidently, he thought that my punishment was already sufficient.

Fast forward with me. Yesterday, I was given a mask. It was one of those biological weapons masks. I was ruck-sack marched out into the woods of Fort Jackson. There I, along with others, I was told in detail for about two hours exactly how I would behave while in a room filled with CS Gas. It is a tear gas.

I walked in with about 49 other people. I was fine at first. The mask did an excellent job. My neck and ears began to burn a little. I was then instructed to break the seal of the mask. I did so while holding my breath and closing my eyes. I then set the seal again. I pressed the release valve and blew out the gas that had gotten into my mask. My face and eyes began to burn at this point. But, I was fine. The next part was the rough patch.

The Sergeant told a group of us to remove our masks completely, open our eyes, say our names – social security numbers – ranks – class motto, and to breathe. I did not want to breathe. But, I couldn’t leave without doing it. I sucked in a bit of the air. That was a bad mistake. A funny thing happens when you breathe in gas like this. Your lungs say, “That wasn’t oxygen. Breathe again to give me oxygen.” So, I breathed again, a deeper breath. Guess what? You got it. I filled my lungs with CS Gas. Some of you might say, “Oh no, he shouldn’t have done that.” Thank you Captain Obvious. I figured it out pretty quick. I left the gas chamber a hot mess. My lungs were on fire. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t get a breath to save my life. It wasn’t from lack of trying. When I shot out the door like a loose cow running from a slaughterhouse, I was greeted by a Major. I couldn’t see him. But, I could hear him saying, “Flap your arms to get the gas out of your clothes. Open your eyes.” My all time personal favorite was that he kept saying, “Breathe!” If he hadn’t been a Major and I could have actually spoken. I would have told him exactly why I couldn’t breathe.

So many years later, I sensed the same pain my dad sensed the day I accidentally maced him. The moral of this: Teach your kids to read early.

I Say "Hooah"

2008-06-15T19:24:00.001-07:00

Well, I am in good Ol’ Fort Jackson, SC. Some of you may be surprised to here this. I am not sure where you have been if this comes as a surprise. Either way, I am here. I got here last Saturday, June 07, 2008.

It has been one long week. The mornings have been early. The nights have been short. But, I have been getting some sleep. I’ve been getting my usual 5 or six hours. They just come at a different time of the day than they did prior to being in the Army.

The Army life is certainly one of production. It is a large system made up of many subsystems. Quite frankly, it works well. There are times of waiting and wondering what is next. However, it seems to come together well. For such a large system, the result is productivity and action.

I have said “Hua” more than I have ever heard it in my entire life. “Hooah” is word that is used in the affirmative. It is a word used when one agrees with what is being said or sometimes done. It means “yes,” “ok,” or that one agrees. It is also used as a proud response. There is more to this. This will suffice for now. The point is that I have gotten accustomed to shouting “hooah” at the drop of a hat. It is actually kind of cool.

I took my PT (Physical Training) entrance test this past Thursday. I did fairly well. I did 40 pushups and 42 situps in less than 2 minutes. I ran two miles in under 16 minutes. Please don’t send me a message about how many you can do if it is more than I can do. I really don’t care. I am only concerned that I passed my PT.

There are a lot of Baptist preachers here, as well as other denominations. So, I don’t need to tell you that many of them didn’t pass their PT. You know that a steady diet of KFC buckets doesn’t lend itself to good health. Some of these guys are evidence to the reality that the only sin Baptists overlook is gluttony. These Baptists are getting a serious reality check on that note.

Yesterday we did a march over to Victory Tower. That was sweet. We climbed a tower and repelled from it. I really like repelling. I did pretty well at that. We also did some other stuff there. It was like a mini theme park, if a theme park in your mind is an obstacle course with a 70 feet tower in the middle of it. I’d like to do that again. Something tells me I might get the chance. There were some really cool ropes courses at the theme park as well.

Last night we took in a Columbia Blowfish Baseball Game. They had a special military night. Yesterday was the Army’s 233rd birthday. We got a police escort. We were riding up the ramp onto the Interstate. I looked over at my new buddy Cliff and said, “Crap. We getting into a traffic jam.” Then I looked and realized that we were causing the traffic jam. The police shut down each road, including the Interstate, so that we could get to the game. I felt important for just a little bit. That feeling went away today while I was doing PT.

Now that I am an officer there is this whole thing of being saluted. I have not quite gotten used this yet. You have to realize that I am at Fort Jackson. This is the largest basic training base. This means that there are tons of privates. This translates to saluting a lot if you move around on the base. Cliff and I went to the PX on post to buy some stuff. We stopped before we drove into the parking lot to find the least number of privates so that we could park and get in the building without having to stop too much. Now, I realize that some of you Army guys are saying, “You should appreciate the respect and proudly render a salute back to a soldier.” I agree; and I do this. However, you might want to consider the other end of this argument. You may have been one of those officers who purposely parked in the midst of privates so that they had to salute you. I do appreciate it. Sometimes it is just hard to get into a building.

I am enjoying my time here. I miss some folks. Some folks I glad to be rid of. You think about that and decide which group you are in. Talk to you soon.

The Sea and Me

2008-04-08T16:39:00.000-07:00

I am sitting in an Individual and Family Therapy class. I am listening to a girl take part in an mock counseling session. I wish I wasn't bound by confidentiality so that I could tell you about this session. Basically, a church person is suffering from wanting to control someone else. That sounds familiar doesn't it? I am bored out of my mind.

I started going though my pictures. I found this picture of me floating around on the Sea of Galilee. Sure beats being in this class. I have to say that being on the Sea of Galilee beat being here, beats being a lot of places.

You probably know what I mean when I say that being somewhere else in our minds is a great way to steal away from the muck of the daily grind. Like me, you may have certain places that almost nothing else gets to you. Those places for me are running in the morning, riding my bike through the woods of Monte Sano, skiing down any Western or European ski slopes, and floating on the Sea of Galilee. There are some others. But, these give you an idea of what I am trying to illustrate.

You see, right now I am not where my body is. I am miles away. As I write this, I see myself flying down a snowy slope, zipping through a mountain pass, or maybe even sitting in the cold waters of the Colorado River at the floor of The Grand Canyons. Man I am enjoying my overly fantastical mind. Don't you wish you were Bawith me right now.

It isn't easy to get to a place of peace sometimes. It is certainly necessary on occasions. There are days when you must get to a place of peace. Right now, I can't get out of this class. I can go somewhere else in my mind. Often, I am capable of going to one of those places that I right now I can only imagine. This morning, I got up and ran around my community early this morning. Sometime this week, I will ride my bike through the mountains behind my house.

This may be one of the most directionless blogs I have ever written. So, I will attempt to make sense out of this for you.

Basically, I saw this picture of me being all relaxed. I thought, "I want to put that picture on my blog." That was the premise of this entire rant. At this point of writing, I simply realized that that was reason enough to post this. Here is why: Sometimes you just need to do something that doesn't have a lot of purpose. That is part of enjoying life.

I bet some of you reading this very seldom do something just for fun and just for you. People like this often brag about this fact. That is stupid. Life is about enjoying the journey. If you never ride a bike or sit in the woods, you are missing the important stuff.

Psalm 46:10 says, "Cease striving and know that I am God." This implies that one should separate from the crap of every day and enjoy God. Enjoying God might mean getting somewhere outside of your normal sphere. Getting to Israel or a ski slope might be difficult. But, walking down the street to a park and sitting is very possible. If you are doing stuff all day long and get to the end of the day without taking in one good moment, your life needs a change.

One might figure that it would be great to do what this verse says. But, Tim just doesn't understand how difficult my life is. For those of you thinking this, I encourage you to read the entire Psalm 46. It is written in the midst of great and tragic circumstances. "God is my refuge and Strength in a present time of trouble." It goes on to say that even when the earth trembles and the mountains crumble into the sea, "I will not be moved." In the middle of this Psalm comes the verse, "Cease striving and know that I am God."

No matter what life is like, there is peace in Christ.

The worst blog I have written,
Tim

Abiding

2008-04-05T12:12:00.000-07:00

April 3, 2008/Thursday
9:54am (Jerusalem)

I am on my fifth trip to Israel. I have seen almost every nook and cranny of this country. I am now becoming so familiar with the layout that I have a sense of direction and an awareness of the layout. It is pretty cool. I find myself knowing which road to take and how to get to certain places. But today, I gained new knowledge.

Today we headed West and South of Jerusalem. We started out at Bet Shemesh. We climbed up to the Tel of Bet Shemesh. A Tel is a mound of layers of a city that has been built and rebuilt. Basically, old cities have been conquered and rebuilt. After each battle, the city is leveled and another is built on top of the rubble. This produces a layering effect. This is a simple explanation of a Tel.

Standing on top of Tel Bet Shemesh, you can see Samson’s community, Zorah, on one side and Delilah’s community, Timnah, on the other. Just down the road, literally, is where the Valley of Elah where David killed Goliath. I have to say that this was very exciting. We actually walked through the valley and picked up smooth stones. Think about that for just a second. I picked up a smooth stone just like David did. He dropped a giant with his.

We turned south. We stopped at Lachish. We climbed up and looked over acres of vineyards. It was a beautiful sight. I have an affinity for vineyards. Today I walked through one in the heart of Israel. I touched the leaves. I smelled the dirt. It was a highlight.

John 15 speaks of a vineyard. Jesus tells us that God, our Father, is the vinedresser, that Jesus is the vine, and that we are the branches. As good ole Baptists, we like to skip over one of the most amazing passages in Scripture related to our position in Christ. This Baptist doesn’t skip over it.

A vineyard is a work of art and an effort of love. The vinedresser goes out and daily cares for and keeps the vine. He trims it. He prunes it. He cleans it. He lifts the hanging branches from the earth and ties them to the trellis. He picks the weeds from the ground and makes sure that no grass grows. A vineyard is an immaculately kept field. It becomes evident that the vinedresser loves his work.

John 15 is about this kind of care. God, the vinedresser, is caring for us each day. Grapes don’t grow from branches that are not cared for. They take much work. The vine, Jesus, is our source. The branches, us, are the means of producing fruit. Here is the cool part. We are not responsible for producing any fruit. It is very clear, “The one who abides in Me and I in him bears much fruit,” (John 15:5). This work part is up to our Father. All we do is abide in Him. Someone might say, “You can’t just do nothing.” I agree. That is why Scripture instructs us to abide. That is our part. What a relief to know that producing fruit is not up to me.

Another interesting thing to note about vineyards is that almost all wine today is produced from vines that have had branches grafted in. Very few vines exist now in production that are totally natural. To help you out, we have been grafted into Christ, as gentile believers. “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek,” (Romans 1:16).

We saw a herd of sheep with their shepherds. Daddy asked the shepherds if we could illustrate John 10 that speaks of sheep not obeying the voice of a stranger. Daddy attempted to get the sheep to follow him. They wouldn’t do it. I don’t blame them. He looked hungry. But the minute their shepherd began to call them, they followed. It was so cool. Daddy even held a baby sheep over his shoulder.

We traveled on down to Beer Sheva. We don’t usually do this because it is about 8 miles from Gaza. So, this is a bit risky. As you know, Hamas rebels have been hurling rockets into Israel. But, it was worth it. We saw a well that was likely dug by Abraham the first time. Wells were regularly dug and then filled in during conflicts. So, the well were we stood was likely filled in a few times and dug again.

We had dinner tonight in Bethlehem. It was one of the best meals I have had in my visits to Israel. We ate like kings. I really like the food here. The fruit and vegetables are basically brought in from the fields and cooked. Now that is fresh. Unfortunately, it is probably the same for the lamb and beef.

Each time we leave a bus, a group of rogue vendors flock to us. Tonight when we were leaving a store they hit us up. They ask my dad to stand in front of the bus and ask people to buy their goods. Daddy grabs their beads etc... and asks people on the bus if they want any of it. It is a lot like a primitive auction. At first, nobody was interested. Then out of nowhere, people went mad. Now you need to know that this group had already made a financial impact in the Israeli financial market this week. It wasn’t like they hadn’t shopped at all. But all of a sudden these folks on the bus began to act like they had never been shopping in their lives. Items were flying over my head. Money was being thrown to the front. It was insane. It went on like this for a good twenty minutes. In Israel you can get some fine stuff in some of the stores. But this stuff was crap. Those guys were hocking some major junk. I told some folks that we just supported five Chinese families for the next year. I can guarantee that crap wasn’t made in this country.

I will be home this week. I am going to get all this stuff on my blog and add some pictures. Until then, pass this along if you will. I also welcome your comments.

Grace to Go On

2008-04-05T12:00:00.000-07:00

April 2, 2008/Wednesday
9:32pm (Jerusalem)

The day started with a wonderful laugh. My mother told me a great story about my daddy. First, it is important to understand how our hotel rooms are laid out. The shower and sink are in a separate room from the toilet. It has a room to itself.

About 5:30am daddy got up to go to the bathroom. He decided to be real quiet so as not to wake up my mother. He stumbled across the dark hotel room. Instead of turning on the light he backed into the bathroom. So, he used his foot to gauge the distance from the door to the toilet. There was a slight problem. He wasn’t in the room with the toilet. He backed in and proceeded to sit down. This is when he fell in the floor. Mother woke up listening to him laughing while sitting in the bathroom floor. That is a great way to start the day.

Since I posted last, we have seen a ton of stuff. We have covered a lot of territory. We arrived in Jerusalem on March 29. There is no way to describe a trip to Israel. We started by touring the rabbinical tunnels. We toured the temple mount area where the big Dome of the Rock is. We went up to the Western Wall. We have been in Bethlehem. We went to Nazareth. There we attended an Arab Christian Church. You name the sight and we have probably seen it. We hiked the Kidron Valley. We walked down the Via Dolorosa. It has been a wonderful journey.

I have to say that the highlight for me was going down into the pit where Jesus was kept the night before his crucifixion. This pit is underneath the place where Caiphas, the high priest is supposed to have lived. Every year I say that this is not going to get to me. I say that simply because I don’t understand why it always does.

I was standing in the pit yesterday. A man from our group, who came with us last year, decided to speak. He began to tell us that he was in a pit of his own when he stood there last year. He continued to speak and say that since last year, God had brought Him out of that pit. As he spoke I was attempting to contain myself. But, the emotion was thick. There I stood with 30 other people in the dark pit where Jesus was kept awaiting His crucifixion. I felt as though I would explode. I remembered a pit of my own.

I was thrown back almost a year and a half ago when Jason Espey and I hiked down into and out of The Grand Canyon. It was there that I realized how deep a hole I had been in. When I reached the top, I knew that I had not just physically climbed out the biggest hole in the world; I had also broke out of a painful time in my life. It is this kind of experience that I feel when I am in this pit where Jesus was.

Yesterday, while standing in that pit once again, the guy sharing his life sang a song called “East from the West” by Casting Crowns. When he began I was fine. It was when I realized what he was singing that I began sense a deep pull on my emotions. He sang about how God has forgiven us. He sang about the reality that my sins and your sins have been taken care of by the sacrifice of Jesus. Crammed in this tiny, deep, dark pit – the words resonated against the stone walls. Emotion rolled over me. Once again, I found myself broken. I was weak.

On Sunday, a guest preacher shared a passage with us. “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness,” (II Cor. 12:9). I would love to overlook the fact that I have weaknesses. It just isn’t that easy. I am weak. I have always been weak. If ever I have looked strong, it is the grace of God. In this passage, Paul shares that he has a thorn in his flesh. In other words, he states that he has dealt with an issue all of his life. He had even asked for God to remove it three times. People debate what this thorn was. My thoughts on that are, “Who cares?” It was evidently an awful thing. And before we get to pious, we all have thorns as well.

We are weak and fragile. We pretend that we are strong and tough. We are not. As a matter of fact, our weaknesses are our greatest assets according to Paul. He even boasts in his weakness in this passage. In that pit I was in touch again with the power that comes from weakness.

Today, we went down into the Negev Dessert. Some of the guys and I climbed Masada, about 1,700 feet. It was a tough and hot climb. It felt good though. The view was amazing for the entire climb. The Dead Sea was the back drop. I can’t tell you how beautiful it was.

We ate a place Jericho that has amazing food. I was looking forward to that all year.

We ended the day today by floating in The Dead Sea. I gave myself a mud bath.

2008-04-05T11:50:00.000-07:00

March 28,2008/Friday

I had Turkish coffee twice today. I may very well be up for the next 6 weeks straight. It is like drinking heavy mud with a coffee flavor. You only get about an ounce of it. Let me help you understand why one ounce of Turkish coffee is enough. If you were to take that ounce of coffee and add about 6 ounces of water you would have the equivalent of molten lava with a coffee flavor. Maybe if you added a gallon of water you might actually say that is taste almost like regular coffee. After drinking it your teeth are clothed for winter; it’s like each tooth has its own fur coat. If a British person drank Turkish coffee he or she would immediately need dental work. This does not apply to the wonderful and charming British people who I know personally. They are great and have beautiful teeth. Really, their teeth are like fine porcelain handcrafted by God. Anyway, Turkish coffee is stout if you have missed my point.

Tonight I sat in the home of some Jewish folks that we know here in Tiberias, Yudah and Joanne. They served us coffee tea and canapés. Canapés is a fancy way of saying deserts. I love being around these folks. They own the boating business that takes us out on the Sea of Galilee. We actually went out with them this morning.

On the boat, Joanne taught us some Jewish folk songs and dances. I have a list of all the Baptists who danced. I will be publishing this list to the Baptist Convention immediately upon return. I want to make sure that these people are properly punished for enjoying themselves. This kind of stuff can lead to disastrous consequences. I also think that I saw a Baptist look at a vineyard today. I will see to it that he is thrown from the top of Mt. Arbel tomorrow at dawn. You can all thank me later for this service. I will take any donations for such heroic actions.

I love being in Tiberias. The first time I came here in 1992, I began a love relationship with this land. Of course the history is rich. But, it is more than that. I connect in a real way to the heart of God here. It is something that I cannot explain to you. Floating on the sea, I look around at all the places of which I have heard for so long. Sitting on the boat I see Capernaum, Tiberias, the Synagogue where Jesus taught, Peter’s house, the home of Mary Magdalene, the place where Jesus ridded the man of the demons, and so much more. It is surreal.

I know that a lot of you who read this will be people who have been Christians for many years. Continue to read. But, I want to write to people who might read this that may not have a clue why I want to be in Israel.

I am not here in Israel because I am a religious person. I am not here because I feel the need to do penance for sin. I am not even here because I think it mysteriously makes me a better person. I am here because God lavished His love on me and continues to do so. I am not writing this so that I can convince You to think as I think. I am writing this because I have been given the wonderful privilege of knowing the heart of God. I am not saying what I am saying to cause you to change your mind. It is basic and simple. I have been blessed to know God. I am bragging on Him. If He so chooses to change your heart and mind, then so be it. That would thrill me. But, it is not my task or goal, nor any other believers, to do this. Only God reveals Himself to us.

Most of you may find these writings boring and useless. I would say to you that it probably isn’t the first time you have been wrong. I still am having trouble accessing my blog. I will try again tonight. So, if you know someone who is not on my distribution list, please forward this to them. Some people check my blog whose e-mails I do not have.

Talk to you soon,

Tim

March 29, 2008/Saturday

Just a quick update about some things today: We started today by driving up into Kiriat Shimona. This is the place most of you may remember when Israel was in conflict with Lebanon. Kiriat Shimona was shelled with Katusha Missiles (sp?). This city is right on the Lebanese border. We also had a special treat today. We got to go into Lebanon territory. We drove about 6 miles in from what I could tell. It was exhilarating. There were a couple helicopters flying around near us. We left Lebanon and traveled over to Banias Springs, also called Caesarea Philippi. This is actually an Israeli controlled Syrian territory. We spent most of the day in either territory that was once controlled by Lebanon or Syria or it actually was Lebanon or Syria. The point, it was a cool day.

Paris Please!

2008-04-05T11:39:00.001-07:00

Greetings from Israel!

I am in Tiberias. I am having trouble posting to my normal blogspot at
timbslim.blogspot.com. So, I have pasted it into this e-mail. I'll try to get
the blog up soon. Otherwise I will e-mail it to you.

I must first tell you about our stop in Paris. We planned to ride into downtown
Paris due to the fact that we had about 7 hours between flights. I want to go
ahead and go on record to say that driving from the airport (which takes 45
minutes) into Paris to tour the city is not, I repeat, not a good idea. I will
attempt to convey all of the reasons for this. Remember we were on a bus.

I think our most obvious obstacle was the fact that when we got off the plane,
we were immediately forced to interact with French people. This in and off
itself is a recipe for disaster. Might I add that French people don’t make a
whole lot of effort to speak good English. It could be because their heads are
so far up their own butts that even their ears are covered. But, who am I to judge. Back to the story. When we got off the plane, the two people with us that needed wheel chairs were just crap out of luck. In all of the times that I
traveled with these people, the French were the first and only to muck this one
up. Once we got them their wheels, we then ran into a lady who wouldn’t let us
go to our bus. The guide was waiting for us. But, she said we need a Visa.
She was wrong. But, you try to tell a French person that he or she is wrong.
We finally made it out of the airport late cutting our time to take in the 82
museums and other landmarks. I think you are becom
ing aware of the situation.

We light out toward the city. As we round corners on two wheels our guide is
shouting through the speaker system the names of each place in just enough time
for us to see it disappear out the back window of the bus. We drive buy Notre
Dame, The Louvre (that broke my heart), the Seine River, and much more. I am
being a bit facetious. We did cram a lot in if you count seeing things through a bus window. Managed to se a soccer stadium that seated 100,000 (Sutton, Pohly’s and everyone else I forgot to mention). We also got to go up
in The Eiffel Tower. That was pretty sweet. But, I saved the best for last.

Paris is known for its food. People go there just to eat. I was looking
forward to such a wonderful meal. We managed to find the only pathetic
restaurant in the entire city. We ate at the equivalent of the American Ryan’s.
Now if you know me, you know that I hate Ryan’s. I hate anything where you eat
out of a trough like horses. The guide took us to this awful place right down
the street from The Louvre. I am actually surprised that the owners have not
been arrested for doing to food what they have done in the city of Pairs.

I have already determined that I will have to return to Paris on my own. It was
clear that I needed more time. I thought initially that I had more.

We arrived in Tel Aviv on Wednesday night at 12:00am. I was pretty tired. We
drove to our hotel in Netanya. We got up this morning and drove to up to Ceasarea
Maritime, a city that Herod the Great built. It was quite amazing. I quite
nearly killed myself climbing to the top of the aqueducts. I think I have a
sprained wrist. I know I have a bruised shin. By the way, I hurt my shins when
I was 14 (This line is for Jeremy P.) From there we went to Mount Carmel. This
is where Elijah made a sacrifice to God in front of the priests of Baal. We
covered a lot of ground today. I am now laid up in my room on the Sea of
Galilee. Tomorrow we will take a boat ride.

I am very blessed. I have traveled and seen so much of the world. I have met
some amazing people. I have incredible friends. I have watched as a life was
brought into this world; I saw my niece breath her first breath. Only people
who have seen this can know how that feels. I have climbed to tall peaks,
Colorado to Switzerland. I have trekked into the deepest of holes from
Jerusalem to Jericho and from the top of the Grand Canyon to the bottom and back up. I have cruised the Nile. I have rafted
the mightiest rivers in America. I have skied the most beautiful mountains in
the world. I have jumped from a plane and dived to the earth from 14,000 feet.
I have jumped from an Italian hillside 50 feet into the Ligurian Sea. I have
seen 45 states. I have journeyed through vineyards and meditated by the seas.
I have been on five continents. I have tasted the finest foods. I have imbibed
the best fruit of the vine. And this is only the tip of the iceberg.

I have made money and lost money. I have worked hard and worked smart. I have
pursued dreams and watched dreams crumble. I have made some laugh; I have made
some cry. I have brought joy; I have brought pain. I have walked close the
God; I have walked at a distance. I have seen great days; I have seen sad days.

I have embraced education. I yearn for wisdom that often seems just out of
reach, at other times well within grasp. I learn some days; other days I don’t. I give some days. Some days I take.

All in all, I have lived a full life, 36 years last week. Now, I might have 36
more, or 56 more, or 1 more. I certainly know that I have this moment.

The ancient Egyptians believed that once you made the journey from this life to
the afterlife that you must answer two questions. One, “Did you find Joy?”
Two, “Did you bring joy to others?” I find those questions to be quite simple.
You would think that at this moment in one’s life the questions to get into
heaven would be more difficult. The truth: This isn’t what happens when you
take this journey to heaven. But, indulge me to imagine that we would be asked
these questions.

I have found joy. I also have brought joy to others, not to all. But, I have
known that I shared joy. Everything that has been afforded to me has been a
gracious gift from God. I am truly blessed. I am blessed to have the
opportunities, and blessed to have those who have loved me well. I am a blessed
man.

When I was found by God, I found the source of my joy. I was 15 years old. I was
not looking for any help. I felt fully capable of helping myself. But, God
clearly showed me that this was not sufficient. I was transformed in that
moment. I was changed forever.

Some of you reading this are older. You have made your lives. You have kicked
it into neutral. My advice to you: Soak up every moment of life like a sponge.
Extract the joy from everything.

Some of you are older and your dreams have been crushed. You have been isolated
and alone. My advice to you: Soak up every moment of life like a sponge.
Extract the joy from everything.

Some of you are younger and you think you have joy, but you substitute real joy
for temporary satisfaction. My advice to you: Soak up every moment of life
like a sponge. Extract the joy from everything.

Some of you live life to the fullest. You step out on the edge. You see the
majesty of a sunrise and the glory in a bird. My advice to you: Continue to soak up every moment of life like a sponge. Extract the joy from everything.

I leave you with Paul’s words: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say
rejoice.”

Your servant, your friend,

Tim

Joie de la vie

2008-02-28T22:40:00.000-08:00

James Bond was always one of my heroes growing up. I absolutely love all the movies. I actually own the DVD’s to quite a few of them. Unlike most Bond fans, Roger Moore is my favorite, not Sean Connery. I think Pierce Brosnen did a bang up job as well. Some of you don’t know who James Bond is; shame on you. Please don’t quit reading this blog because I am exposing my fanatical James Bond allegiance. There is a greater meaning here. Hang Tight.

The affinity for James Bond movies is a symptom of what seems like an insatiable desire for adventure. I have always been like that. I love adventure. I have always loved doing things that others think are ridiculous, whether it be jumping out of trees onto a trampoline, jumping from cliffs into the ocean, jumping out of planes, or being in places in the Middle East where bombs have been dropped. It gets my adrenaline going. There is nothing like adrenaline coursing through your veins. Sometimes you get that taste of iron in your mouth. I even like to learn how to do new things just in case they come in handy down the road. I have a commercial driver’s license on the off chance that I am faced with a dilemma where I need to drive a big truck. James Bond was always qualified to do this stuff. It came in handy for him. I have been thinking about learning to fly.

I have just finished doing some reading and studying for a series of Bible Studies that I am writing and teaching at my church. I have been searching through some Scripture and books that mean a lot to me. I am thrilled to find that same spirit of adventure exists in the God who called me. Not only does it exist in Him, but it originates with Him. Don’t hear me to be saying that God takes risks. I am simply saying that if you are going to be with Him, buckle up. It is going to be an exciting ride. God has taken me on the most exciting 36-year journey. It isn’t over yet. It is the joie de la vie, French for the joy of living. For some reason it is easier to make a point if you use another language.

As a believer, I have found that the adventure is not always comparable to a thrill ride. Sometimes the adventure takes you through deserts, dark valleys, and down lonely roads. Often the adventure is finding a drink of water in a dry land. Adventure can be tearful as well as thrilling. I used to think that having an adventure played out just like a Bond plot. You and I both know that isn’t the way the world works. Some of the greatest adventures for me have been painful times of learning. Other times the adventure was stepping out in faith when it seemed hopeless. I realize now that some of my greatest adventures have come just at the point when all seemed lost. It is then that I would be called to step out beyond my capacity. It was then that I heard a call to go out a bit into the deeper waters where my own instinct and my navigation would be rendered useless. I would be forced to rely on something greater than my own mastery.

I like what Sir Frances Drake said about this kind of adventure.
Disturb Us O Lord!

Disturb us, Lord, when_We are too well pleased with ourselves,_When our dreams have come true_Because we have dreamed too little,_When we arrived safely_Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when_With the abundance of things we possess_We have lost our thirst_For the waters of life;_Having fallen in love with life,_We have ceased to dream of eternity_And in our efforts to build a new earth,_We have allowed our vision_Of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,_To venture on wilder seas_Where storms will show your mastery;_Where losing sight of land,_We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back_The horizons of our hopes;_And to push into the future_In strength, courage, hope, and love. (1577)

I find great difficulty when I am called to stretch myself in this way. I thought that as I get older my faith would increase own its own, that I would scoff in the face of difficulty. I assumed that with age, I would just be a natural at this stuff. Boy was I wrong. The challenges seem to get more challenging. My faith seems to be more frail at times. However, something happens to me when I read words like Sir Frances Drake’s.
Each time I read the words, “Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly, to venture on wilder seas where storms will show Your mastery; where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars,” I feel adrenaline rush through my veins. I taste the goodness of hope that only I find in Christ. I know wherein lies my strength. My strength is renewed. I feel the fire of which Jeremiah spoke, “…In my heart it becomes like a burning fire shut up in my bones; and I am weary of holding it in, and I cannot endure it,” (Jer. 20:9).
Pushing away from the shore to launch into the deep waters. Moving beyond the horizon. It is a bit scary. But, it is the joie de la vie.

Your servant, your friend,

Tim

Catching Up

2008-02-24T15:38:00.000-08:00

Welcome back to the world of Tim. It’s not that exciting. Well, maybe it is. I guess if you get out much, my life is a pretty good one through which to live vicariously. So, for all you homebodies, I am going to try to share some nuggets from my world. Maybe it will brighten your days. Maybe it will piss you off. I am quite certain that both are possible if you simply apply yourself.

Some words to catch you up: A lot has happened since I last wrote in June. I took a quick trip up to Milwaukee. Wes Sanderson and I drove a U-Haul to Milwaukee to deliver Tyler’s furniture and stuff. He moved there in September I believe. I don’t remember the exact dates. It was a cool trip. We went to a Brewer’s game. We also went to a few microbreweries. We traveled down to Chicago. We circled Wrigley Field several time but never went into the game. We couldn’t find tickets cheap enough for Wes, not that Wes is cheap (in case he is reading this). I think it became a dual for him. We also attended the Wisconsin State Fair. That was cool. We ate fried cheese curds and cream puffs. I had a great bratwurst. It was a really cool trip. For those of you who are into pop-culture, we met Perez Hilton. He is this fat gay guy who does gossip stuff. It was pretty funny. Tyler recognized him. I think Tyler has a crush on him. I will clarify that this is a joke. You guys haven’t heard my warped humor in a while. For future reference, I won’t always explain my statements. Buckle up!

Fast Forward: I went skiing at Copper Mountain, CO with the Pohly’s. Prepare yourself for the next statement. WE DROVE. Now you may be wondering what would possess a man to drive 23 hours with a family that has 7 kids (making a total of 9 family members for those slow in math). The answer: Words can express it, just not words that are PG. Speaking of PG, boy do those Pohly’s cuss. This was yet another joke. The Pohly’s don’t even know how to spell cuss words. Well, some of them don’t. That Lori is trouble. Back to the story, we drove to Colorado.

Traveling with the Pohly’s was actually great. We had an awesome time. We laughed a lot. We did some raw skiing too. It was amazing. We had great snow. Of course, I was the best skier on the slopes. Take my word for that. The skiing was great. We also had a joke develop out of the trip. “What did one Pentecostal say to the other? He doesn’t know. There wasn’t an interpreter.” It was great in the moment, remember – 24-hour trip.

Grandpa Jack is always a highlight at the Pohly family events. Grandpa Jack added the essence of himself to each moment. For instance, where else can you have breakfast cooked and served by a grown man in his underwear? It was precious.

In February, I went skiing with da’ guys. Da’ guys were Sutton, Ron (aka Marcel), Brad Jones, Steve, Larry, and I. We skied The Canyons near Park City. Great Snow! We had a blast. It’s always a hoot with those guys. I laughed more on that trip than I have in a while. One of the funniest, yet corniest, was when Ron ordered half a bison. Had to be there.

Of course we made the annual Rodizio’s visit. It is a cool restaurant in downtown Salt Lake. I am disappointed to say that they didn’t have chicken hearts. Though, I am not as disappointed as Sutton. He ate 47 chicken hearts last year. He and Evan usually compete. Sutton is the reigning champion right now.

I have been flying for years. I have flown many, many miles in my lifetime. You would think that I have this stuff down by now. Well, I proved myself to be fallible in this area.

I flew out of Atlanta on a rewards ticket. They couldn’t get me one out of Huntsville or nearby. So Wednesday, Feb. 13th, I drove to Atlanta. I met up with Jason and Jake Pohly. We did the Waffle house thing. We met Connie there.

Connie served us. She was a sweet, unkempt, scattered older lady. She was agreeing with us that the new menus were confusing. We seemed to master them with greater ease in two minutes than she had with obviously more time than we. It was funny to watch her. She scooted about in a haphazard and lightly motivated way. For some reason, Connie lodged herself deep into my heart. I can’t help that sometimes. Almost immediately I found myself threading a biography from the few morsels that I gleaned from her demeanor and discourse.

Jason and I dropped Jake off at his apartment. We then headed back to Jason’s. I crashed on the couch. I didn’t sleep too well, not because of the couch. The couch was nice. It was from the 2 lbs of grease that I had just ingested at the Cholesterol Café.

Jason took me to the airport the next morning around 5:45am. We got there in good time. I had about 15 minutes when I cleared security (which virtually requires undressing these days). So, I picked up my pace. I took the tram to terminal “B.” As I was walking down terminal “B,” I noticed my ticket said 34C. Now this will be important later. I now have 10 minutes before my flight takes off. I turn and run, brief case & back pack in tow and a jacket & scarf on. I hoof it back down the escalator of Terminal “B.” The tram is not there; and I have no time to wait. I look a sign that states “1000 yards between terminals.” I take off. I run the distance. I run up the escalator at terminal “C.” I run to the gate area. I glanced back down at my ticket. I realize that I am an idiot. It was seat 34C, gate B36. I now have 5 minutes until my flight takes off, and I am in the wrong terminal. I run back to the escalator of Terminal “C.” The tram is not there, of course. I run the 1000 yards and back up the escalator at terminal “B.” I now have to run to the end of “B.” It is about 1000 yards as well. I get about 100 yards from my flight that leaves in seconds. It must have been obvious where I was going by the panicked look on my face. A delta worker shouted out, “You’re gonna make it,” like I was fighting a disease or something. I might have looked like I was. Well, I made it, barely. I was that guy. You know, the one the whole planeload of people was waiting on. I was sweating like a moose. I am sure the guy sitting next to me was thrilled about that. Oh but wait, it gets better.

Remember me, the veteran flyer? My flight from Salt Lake back to Atlanta left at 12:40am. That is in the early morning for you time-challenged folks. Ron, Sutton, and Larry dropped us off at the airport after dinner. Brad’s flight didn’t leave until 5:45am. After Brad and I talked a while and after I realized that Brad was about to go permanently cross-eyed, I went to my gate. My flight was the only flight going out that late, or early depending upon your view of it.

I got to my gate. I checked in. I sat down. I woke up. It was dark. No one was around. I looked at my watch. It was 1:00am. I began to move around quickly and glare at the Departures sign as if it would change the situation. Guess what? It didn’t. I had slept through my flight boarding and taking off. You guessed it. No one woke me up either. I had effectively missed my flight. I was a bit mad at myself. I knew that one day I would be writing about this and laughing. That day hasn’t come yet. I spent the night in the terminal of an airport alone.

I called Delta many times. To shorten the story a bit, I didn’t have success getting a flight over the phone due to 45 minute holds etc… I finally resorted to showing up at the next flight to Atlanta around 5:00am. I flew standby because some poor sap had an expired driver’s license and couldn’t go. I got back to Atlanta about 6 hours late. Jason picked me up. We ate at Mary Mac’s downtown.

Keep in touch with me. A lot has happened. New adventures are on the horizon. I will be in France and Israel in March. I also just got accepted into the Army as an Officer Chaplain.

Your friend, your servant,

Tim

Gray Hairs Suck

2007-06-12T15:33:00.001-07:00

Well, it has been a while since I have written on my blog. Guess it just shows how disciplined I am. I am consistent, consistently inconsistent that is. Say what you will about that. I simply know what I do well and what I don’t do well. I don’t do anything well that requires great detail on a recurring basis. In a world of engineers that certainly is hard for some to grasp. Assuming that there is an engineer reading this, he or she is likely scratching his or her head attempting to imagine that I could possibly be this spontaneous and unstructured. Makes me laugh to know that I may have confused an engineer.

There is a reason that I am writing this blog today. I am sure you might be wondering what that is. Don’t get too excited. It won’t be ground breaking information. It will be the same crap I throw on most of the time. I also wouldn’t reach for my Bible on this one if I were you. You won’t need it unless you are searching for Scripture to support an argument that Tim must be going to hell because he wasted so many peoples’ valuable time today. Then, you might need your Bible. Otherwise, relax!

I just got home a bit ago. I started watering my yard. That has proven to be an act of utter futility. Basically, I am only teasing my grass. We have had so little rain that my watering is pretty useless. I have considered putting a sign in my yard that says, “Pee Here!” I thought it might save me some water. But, the uric acid would probably be bad for yard and it would stink. Anyway, I am now sitting on my porch. I just had a cold one. I’ll leave that last sentence open for interpretation. It was then that I realized what really sucks in life.

It sucks that I have hair on my shoulders. I know this is unpleasant for some of you. That is why I am writing about it. I have had hair on my shoulders for some time now. It isn’t like a rug. It really isn’t that bad at all. But it does suck. Today, however, I realized that there is something that sucks worse than having hair on your shoulders. It is having a gray hair on your shoulder. I looked over on my shoulder and there it was. I had a gray hair on my left shoulder. What a tragedy. I guess soon all of my hair might be gray. Well, it will be a little while. But, it has started.

I guess what I am trying to say is that gray hairs suck. I have some in my beard also. My sister spotted some on my head as well. Since this is the beginning of the end, I bid you all farewell. It might be a premature bidding. But, I like to beat the rush. Gray hair or not, I plan on skiing until I am 100 if I live that long. I wonder if that is possible. I guess we will see.

Gray hairs suck,
Tim

Buddhist Musings

2007-05-02T07:39:00.001-07:00

I am careful not to say too much, too quickly. It’s not that I fear that if I believe something good will happen that it will soon just get ripped out from under me. I just don’t want to glory in only the good times. I want to be able to be content in every situation and with every circumstance.

Joy is deep in the pursuit of Your glory. I know that. I know it because You have said it in Your Word. I have also tasted the goodness of the Lord. Joy, happiness, contentment – they are all found in You. Regardless of which word is used to describe the fulfillment of life, You are the source of this.

“Then those who sing as well as those who play the flutes shall say, ‘All my springs of joy are in You,” Psalm 87:7.

Last night I was in my Personality Psychology class. We were discussing Buddhist Psychology. Sadly enough this does exist. Even sadder, it is beginning to get wider acceptance. Here is a quote that basically sets up the entire platform of this form of pseudo-psychology:

“Life is suffering.
Desire is the cause of suffering.
The way to end suffering is to end desire.”

At first ring, this almost sounds good. It certainly sounds good to people who are suffering and want the suffering to end. If this same person who is suffering also doesn’t have a grasp on who God is and what His purpose is for Himself and for us, this might look like a great solution. But, to those of us who know and pursue the heart of God, it is crap.

I’ll put this simply so that we don’t have to labor over it. God is glory. He isn’t a type of glory, a form of glory, or an alternate definition of glory. He is glory. God’s purpose is the maintenance of His glory. In other words, it is His job to sustain and support anything that makes Him glorious. “Our God is in the heavens; He does whatever He pleases,” Psalm 115:3. He doesn’t need our permission to put Himself first and he does just that. As John Piper said in so many words, this would be selfish it a man or woman said it. It would seem self-centered. It would be an act of putting oneself above others. There is the catch. God is above others. How can He be egotistical when there is no one with whom to compare Himself. It takes not thinking like a human to realize that God can boast and brag on Himself.

We are secondary to this purpose of His glory. Our bringing glory to God fulfils a part of His overall desire to maintain His glory. This is where our joy lies. God is pleased with us when we give glory to Him. I don’t want to dive to deeply into this. I have shared this before.

If our joy comes from God when we bring glory to Him, then desire must not be a bad thing, as the Buddhist would say. Psalm 37:4 states that we should, “Delight ourselves in the Lord and He will give us the desires of our heart.”

This Buddhist Psychology stuff is a load of crap. Basically it means that we should get rid of any and every desire because that gets our expectations up. If our expectations are up, then we might get let down. I am not adding to this. It really is this stupid.

A better idea is to simply delight in the Lord. I believe this will be my choice for the day. I will honor Him. He is already pleased with me. But, I want to honor Him. I want to reflect gladly back to Him, His glory. This is joy to the marrow of my bones.

From Egypt to the Promisedland 11

2007-03-30T12:58:00.001-07:00

March 30, 2007/Friday
3:36pm (Jerusalem)

This is our last day. We went first to the Pool of Siloam. This is the one mentioned in John 9. This is where Jesus put the mud on the guys eyes to heal his blindness. From there we went to the Yad Vashem. It is the Jerusalem holocaust museum. That was a sad spot to visit. I have been there once before. It is so somber. Then, we went to the Shrine of the Book. This is where the Dead Sea Scrolls are kept. It is also where the model of the city of Jerusalem during the time of Jesus is.

We went to this restaurant just a few blocks from our hotel. We ate some excellent food there. I also remembered something today while shopping that I totally forgot to put in my blog yesterday. Yesterday I wrote about the second best food I had eaten in the whole world. I don’t know how, but I forgot to tell you about the desert I ate. It was called Kada’if. Amazing! It will sound gross when I describe it. But, let me make it for you first. It is goat cheese, string thin pasta, almonds, with sugar and water dissolved and poured over it. It is so delicious. I can’t wait to make it. It may be the best desert I have ever eaten.

After eating lunch today, Dave, Tina, and I decided to go shop in the Old City. Maybe I should say that I decided to go and they decided to go with me. This was shortly after our guide, Jack, had just told us that the 2:00pm, the time we were going, was the worst time to go. He said that the men would just be finishing their prayers in the Old City. He also said that this was the most likely time for there to be an incident. Well, that is when we went. I wanted to go to a couple of art galleries there. I was afraid that the art gallery would be closed. As Dave said, we looked like salmon swimming upstream. Every person we met was a male Muslim. We worked our way through the tiny streets.

We made it to the art galleries. I got a few lithographs. I wanted a painting that costs about $2500. I decided not to go for that one just now. It was some beautiful stuff. I’ll keep it on my wish list.

While we are here, there is preparation for the Passover next week. One night this week, the hotel took all of the plates, dishes, and utensils and threw them away. This is so that they make sure that there is no yeast on the stuff for the Passover. You can’t even have bread now until after the Passover is complete. It is the craziest bunch of crap you have ever seen. Dave managed to sneak some pita bread into the room. Every time you have a meal, there are Jewish guys walking around the restaurant in the hotel just to make sure that you don’t taint the plates with bread. One of our ladies had her shopping bag searched as she entered the hotel lobby. They were looking for bread. I have started calling these people who monitor all of this the Yeast Patrol.

Right now we are sitting in the lobby waiting for our departure. We leave the hotel for the Ben Gurion Hotel at 1:30am. We have decided to stay up. Bunkie, David, Dave, and I have decided not to go to sleep. From where we are sitting in the lobby we can look over the restaurant. We have talked about how funny it would be to get a loaf of bread and start throwing it on the tables below where all the Jews are eating. Well, funny might not be a good description. I am sure we would get thrown out. We might even miss our flight due to the uprising that would cause. I would love to see how the Yeast Patrol would respond to such an act.

I will be en route until Saturday night. I’ll wrap it up with more thoughts then.

From Egypt to the Promisedland 10

2007-03-29T22:55:00.000-07:00

March 29, 2007/Thursday
9:32pm (Jerusalem)

Today we traveled about an hour to the lowest natural point on the face of the earth. It is about 1600 feet below sea level. It is the Dead Sea. It is located in the wilderness, or the desert. It is called the Judean Wilderness. One of the greatest parts of that area is Massada.

Massada is a very large piece of rock that is similar to a mesa. It is a mountain with a flat top, like a table. It is about 1700 feet tall. I hiked up the side of it today. It was a cool experience. I only had one problem; I couldn’t breathe. Now before you make fun of me, remember that I hiked The Grand Canyon. This time I simply ate a Payday before I started. It made me nauseated. But, I managed. I was hoofing it up that thing.

It was a God thing that I hiked up Massada. Everyone else in the group rode the cable car. I met a guy about halfway up named Jeff. We had a good time hiking together for the remainder of the trip.

Massada is a place that used to be Herod the Great’s winter palace. After it became unused, a group of over 900 Jews occupied it to escape Roman enslavement. All 900 of them lived on nine acres about 1700 feet up on this mesa. They had their own gardens, water supplies, and every necessity. The Roman’s pursued them. They built a ramp over a three-year period just to reach them. When they got to the top, the Jews had chosen death over enslavement. There is much more to the story. I suggest you google it. It is an amazing story.

I also went swimming in the Dead Sea. It is so cool. You float. You can’t sink. I also covered my body in the black mud that settles at the bottom. It is supposed to be really good for your skin. I smeared it all over my body. I got pictures.

We ate at my second favorite restaurant in the world. I don’t even know the name of it. I just know that it is in Jericho. If you are wondering, my first favorite restaurant in the world is Rodizio’s in Utah. Today, I ate so much. It was so good. It was all Middle Eastern food. I also ate a ton of fruit. Jericho literally has the best fruit in the world. I found a fruit that I have been looking for since I ate it the first time I was in Israel. I believe it is called pomila. It is a citrus fruit that is out of this world. I absolutely ate so much that it was a sin. I realize that we have removed the sin of overeating from the list.

Here I go again. I just don’t want us to forget that we all are imperfect. We all still do things that we shouldn’t. It is good to remind us of our imperfections. Otherwise, we become full of ourselves.