Monday, August 26, 2013

The Coal Basket

The story is told of an old man who lived on a farm in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia with his young grandson. Each morning, Grandpa was up early sitting at the kitchen table reading from his old worn-out Bible. His grandson, who wanted to be just like him, tried to imitate him in any way he could.

One day the grandson asked, 'Papa, I try to read the Bible, just like you, but I don't understand it, and what I do understand, I forget as soon as I close the book. What good does reading the Bible do?

The Grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and said, “Take this old wicker coal basket down to the river and bring back a basket of water.”

The boy did as he was told, even though all the water leaked out before he could get back to the house. The grandfather laughed and said, “You will have to move a little faster next time,” and sent him back to the river with the basket to try again.

This time the boy ran faster, but again the old wicker basket was empty before he returned home. Out of breath, he told his grandfather that it was 'impossible to carry water in a basket,' and he went to get a bucket instead.

The old man said, “I don't want a bucket of water; I want a basket of water. You can do this. You're just not trying hard enough,” and he went out the door to watch the boy try again. At this point, the boy knew it was impossible, but he wanted to show his grandfather that even if he ran as fast as he could, the water would leak out before he got far at all.

The boy scooped the water and ran hard, but when he reached his grandfather, the basket was again empty. Out of breath, he said, “See Papa, it's useless!”

”So you think it is useless?” the old man said. “Look at the basket.” The boy looked at the basket and for the first time he realized that the basket looked different. Instead of a dirty old wicker coal basket, it was clean. ”Son, that's what happens when you read the Bible. You might not understand or remember everything, but when you read it, it will change you from the inside out.”

Moral of the wicker basket story: Take time to read a portion of God's word each day; It will affect you for good even if you don't retain a word.

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Worry? Who Me?

Most of us spend our lives worrying, don’t we?  We worry about how people will accept us.  We worry about our clothes—are they nice enough or with it enough?. We worry about acne.  We worry about our bodies—are we too fat or too skinny or too tall or too short or too ugly or somehow not acceptable.  We worry about our social status.  Will someone find us attractive or will they shun us? We worry about what the guy or girl on the other side of the classroom is thinking about us. We worry about school work—are we smart enough to handle it or will we come out failing?  We worry about projects and papers and quizzes and tests.  We worry about whether we can stay in school and pay the bill.  We worry about our jobs—at least some of us do.  Others haven’t gotten there yet as they joy ride around on the golf cart of life.

As we get older, we worry about our careers, and our income—will we make enough to pay the bills and survive in the lifestyle we’ve grown accustomed to?  We worry about who we will marry, or if we will marry.  We worry about whether we will be able to have kids, and once we have them, that gives us something totally new to worry about.  How will we feed them and clothe them?  How will we educate them?  How can we get them through childhood in one piece when they continue to fall down and break bones or stick screwdrivers into electrical outlets, or jump off of swings when they are at their highest point?  And how can we pay for the rising cost of Dr. bills when they do those things?

We worry that they won’t do good enough in school or that they get into too many fights or that they won’t be accepted or that they might fail and not only make themselves look bad, but make us as parents look bad too.

We worry about the perpetual cough that we can’t seem to stop or the fever of one of the kids or about our aging parents.  We worry about the doctor’s report that says we have a tumor and we worry about cancer or strokes or high cholesterol and heart attacks.    We worry about tornadoes and earthquakes and hurricanes and fires.  We worry about our kids driving the highways at much too high a speed.  We worry about the other people on the roads with our kids.  Some of them we worry about because they might be drunk and could possibly hit one of our loved ones…and some we worry about because they happen to be on the road at the same time as our kid who just learned to drive—and they don’t yet know the lack of experience that our kid has.  And so we worry, not only for our kid, but for the people our kid might hit.

We worry about divorce and our future.  We worry about death and how to face it.  We worry about hell and heaven.  We worry about our family members that don’t know Jesus.  We worry that we don’t know Jesus well enough.  And we hate the question put to  us—If you were to die right now, do you know where you would spend eternity?  That worries us.  In fact, have you noticed?  We worry about just about everything.

And right in the middle of all of our worry, Jesus speaks.

Matt. 6:25  “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?
Matt. 6:28  “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying,  ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.

That’s all well and good Jesus, but what do I do instead of worrying?  I mean, my life is eaten up with it.

And Jesus says, “I’m glad you asked!” Look at verse 33.
33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its’ own.

Do you hear God speaking to you this morning?  Don’t worry.  But Lord, I’m afraid that…and we continue our litany of worry.  And yet, over 200 times in the Scriptures, Jesus admonishes us to not be afraid.  And He adds His promises to help us realize why we don’t need to be afraid.  Ponder this.

John 14:1  “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. 2 In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.


John 14:25  “All this I have spoken while still with you. 26 But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. 27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.


Over and over God seeks to calm our fears.  Over and over He wants us to learn to rest our worries in the strength of His love for us.  Time and again, God calls us to stop worrying, start trusting and enjoy life.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Army Surplus Machetes--the Stuff of Wonder!

It was the spring of the year I would turn 12 when I made a discovery that would change my life.  One of my favorite places to go was to the army surplus store.  My dad, being a school principal, would often go there to see if there were some office supplies or a vehicle that he could pick up cheap for the school.  This particular trip, I got to accompany him.

I loved the musty old smell of the canvas tents and the cool look of the uniforms.  There were hats and gloves and wool pants for winter hiking.  There were hammocks and canteens and mess kits.  But I had already acquired a number of the regular articles.  I had $3 bucks in my pocket and I was on the hunt for the unusual.   I didn’t know what it was yet, but I was on my way to discovering it. 

While dad looked at the long sheet of available vehicles, I went up and down the aisles looking for that special find.  I looked at boots and handwarmers and gloves where you could slide your fingers out without taking them off.  I checked out compasses and whistles and survival kits and signaling mirrors.  All of them were cool, but they weren’t what I was looking for.

I was looking for that special “find”.  The kind that every young boy hopes to discover.  You don’t know exactly what it is until you find it, but once you find it, you just know that’s it.  The moment you lay eyes on it, you just know.  Girls could never really understand it.  But boys knew.  My sister would grow impatient and tell me just to find something and get on with it.

But I always wanted to hold out for that special find.   That moment that I just knew I had the find.  How do you know?  Because you know that the moment you unveil your find to your friends, they will think it’s the coolest thing they have ever seen.  And they’ll go: “That’s awesome!  Where did you get it?  How much did you pay?  Can I hold it?  Let me see that!”

That’s how you know you’ve got your genuine, authentic find.  I’m sure there are female counterparts, but I wasn’t looking for anything girly.  I was out, this particular day for a man-find.  So I continued the hunt.

I looked at ammo pouches and camouflage gun covers and camo face paint.  I thought I almost found it when I came across the grenade vests.  Those were cool with all the pockets for the grenades, but they weren’t quite the find since I didn’t have any grenades.

Next I looked at survival knives and helmets, but I already knew guys in the neighborhood that had those.  There was some Vietnam sunburn cream and some ice crampons in bins next to each other, but not what I was looking for either.  There were scopes and binoculars—too expensive.  Patches and insignias—already had ‘em.  And then I came around the corner…and there was my find!  Sitting right there at the end of the aisle.  I knew, as soon as I looked at it that this was it.  And it was only $2.50.

I grabbed one and went running towards the front of the store where dad continued to leaf through the pages of surplus vehicles.  This find would require his permission.  If I could only get him to let me buy it, I would soon be recognized as the most intrepid explorer on the block.

“Dad,” I almost shouted, “can I buy this?  I have enough money.”  Dad looked my way and a frown crossed his face.  This was going to be a hardsell.

“No, son, a machete is way too dangerous for a boy your age.”  He responded.  “You could get hurt or hurt someone else.”

“But dad, you’ve said yourself that those vines behind the house have got to go.  You said that they are taking over everything.  Well, with this, I could just hack them up for you and stack them and then when they are dried out, we could just burn them.  And I promise to be careful and only use it on vines and stuff like that out in the woods.”

There were a lot of vines, and dad saw I had lots of enthusiasm.  Maybe he could create a win-win.  “Ok, but you have to be careful and only use it on the vines.”

I was already on my way to the cash register.  Wait 'til the guys see this. 

The next few weeks were spent as king of the block as my machete, in it’s green canvas sheath,  hung from my green army surplus attachment belt.  I hacked through the vines, letting other guys try it out when I got tired.  In no time, all the vines were down and we were looking for other stuff to chop.  We entered the woods behind the house, where we hacked at the bottom of large grapevines, making ourselves tarzan style swings.  We hacked trails all through the woods, exploring, conquering and in general having a great time.  And one day I made another find.

I was out on one of our trails, when I spotted a dense thicket.  It was just the sort of thicket that needed hacking by an army surplus machete.  I left the trail and hacked my way over to it, and there discovered that it wasn’t just any old thicket.  This was a honeysuckle thicket.

I decided to make myself a fort.  A honeysuckle fort with a low hidden entrance.  So I hacked a little hole down at the bottom and crawled through.  Once deep inside, I hacked out enough room to lay down.  In no time, I was on my back, looking up through the ceiling of my honeysuckle fort to clouds beyond, grabbing flower after flower and breaking off the tips and sucking the nectar out of the end.  I loved that fort. I returned over and over, long after the flowers had gone and spent hours there, deep in my imagination, making up new adventures and then going out to conquer. It was a time of wonder.  Of awe.  Of aliveness. Do you remember times like that?

I began thinking of other times in life when I felt fully alive, enshrouded in awe and wonder.  And most of them were when I was a kid.  Though some are from when I was older.

The sight of a perfectly flat and smooth lake at 5 am, with the sun just coming up to chase the mist off of the water as our boat idled out of the cove and I was going out to learn how to barefoot ski.

Pausing at the top of a ski run in Breckenridge, Colorado to just look out at the winter scenery and being caught off guard at the beauty of the scene.

Sitting in a rocking chair on the backporch of a log cabin with a tin roof during a summer rain shower and just listening to rain and watching it run over the edge of the roof and splash at the base of the porch.

What happened to that sense of wonder?  Where did the awe go?  How did life become so flat and passionless?  How did we lose our childlike sense of awe?



In his book Dangerous Wonder: The Adventure of Childlike Faith, the late Mike Yaconelli suggests four obstacles that block adults from living the childlike faith that Jesus calls us to:

* The obstacle of dullness: we have made faith safe and comfortable, but the faith Jesus taught was radical and transforming.


* The obstacle of the dream stealers: we make a relationship with the living God into ritual and rules, quenching the work of the Spirit.


* The obstacle of predictability: we put God in a box, never allowing him to surprise us, challenge us, or show us something new, thus stifling the creativity of God.


* The obstacle of the banal: we become so immersed in our culture and in the material needs and wants of life, that we fail to live in abject dependence on God for every breath of air and every bite of bread.


Somehow, we have let society squeeze us into its mold.  We buy what society says we need to be happy.  We don’t dare do anything that might be against societal norms, except maybe go to church on Saturday, but we have a good reason.  We want our churches and schools to be nice, filled with nice people, and somehow we grow more concerned over how we look rather than how we see.

Never mind that Jesus called us to a radical faith, where radical things happen.  He called us to follow Him.  When was the last time you actually did?

Just try and follow Him through scripture without being amazed.  He started with nothing and created everything.  Ponder that for an hour and see what happens to your sense of awe.

In the first book of the Bible alone, you have creation, sin, a plan revealed to save man, wickedness   Ponder that.  We thought the Christmas tsunami in Asia was horrific a few years ago with over 500,000 dead or missing.  And it was.  We were shocked and yet in awe of the devastating power of one wave.  Whole countries totally built or revamped their early warning systems based on one wave.
increasing, a world-wide flood.

But a world-wide flood.  That’s epic.  Only 8 made it out alive.  Their descendants tried to develop a safety net.  A tower to escape another world-wide flood…but God now mixed their languages so that confusion would set in and they would move off and start new settlements.

You’ve got God telling a 110 year old man that his 90 year old wife is going to be pregnant.  That’s amazing by itself.  But it actually happens.  Then God calls for Abraham to sacrifice that son.

Later in scripture, God sends plagues to deliver  His people.  He opens a corridor in the sea. He leads by a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night.  He uses manna to feed them, and water from a rock to quench their thirst.

Do you see anything ordinary about His actions?   Can you follow that kind of a God.
When Jesus comes to show us what God is really like, it gets more intense.

Protecting an adulterous woman but chastising the church leaders.  Turning over tables in the temple and chasing tons of adults off, immediately followed by children and the poor flocking around him
Healing lepers through touch, when the rules said you don’t touch.  Healing a man blind from birth, but getting into trouble with the Pharisees because He did it on the Sabbath.

Eating at the wrong houses; those of Sinners.  Hanging out with the wrong people: adulterers, demoniacs, tax collectors, lepers, and prostitutes. 

Are you really following Jesus?  Have you followed Him even to associate with those type of people, treating them with love and respect just like He did.

We’ve lost our sense of wonder because we’ve allowed life to become tame.  No…not allowed it to become tame…we have tamed it, so that it is nice.  We want it comfortable.  And we want a nice tame Jesus.

But again, as Mike Yaconelli points out in his book, Dangerous Wonder, “Tameness is not an option. 

“Take surprise out of faith and all that is left is dry and dead religion. Take away mystery from the gospel all that is left is a frozen and petrified dogma. Lose your awe of God and you are left with an impotent diety. Abandon astonishment and you are left with meaningless piety. When religion is characterized by sameness, when faith is franchised, when the genuineness of our experience with God is evaluated by its similarities to others’ faith, then the uniqueness of God’s people is dead and the church is lost.”

Yaconelli offers this challenge to the dull, dreamless, predictable, and banal faith that most of us refer to as "Christianity":

“It is time to find the place where the dangerous wonder of faith can be discovered—a place landscaped by risky curiosity, wild abandon, daring playfulness, quiet listening, irresponsible passion, happy terror and naïve grace. In a day when most of us are tired, worn-out, thirsty, and starving for life and joy and peace, maybe it is time to become a child again.

What does that mean? I think it can be boiled down to one word. Savor. A child naturally savors life. When I was in the middle of my honeysuckle fort, I savored it. I enjoyed it. I soaked it in. But our hurry and worry never allow us to pause for wonder."

Albert Einstein once said, He who can no longer pause to wonder, is as good as dead.”  And I think he’s right.  It’s proven over and over as you watch the lives of people who are always rushing.  They can’t pause…they have to rush.  No time to pause for God, because they will be late.  No time to pause to savor life, because time is money.  No time to pause and savor relationships, because there are 3 jillion things on their  to-do lists.


So much to savor, yet we seldom do.  We seldom stop to reflect and soak in what is truly deserving of our awe.  And yet when we do stop and savor, awe comes almost as a by-product.
So when will YOU stop...and savor?

(Dangerous Wonder, Mike Yaconelli, NavPress; 2 edition (September 16, 2003