Just a quick word

As you can imagine, since bringing Isaac home, we have had our hands quite full. It seems that we are getting the hang of being a new family and look forward to January when both of us will be home, as full time parents. If only but for a month, we can't wait to spend that time together. We go back to the doctor on Tuesday, just for a regular check up to see how much our little guy has grown. We'll report more after that appointment. Until then, enjoy some photos of the family!

Isaac's favorite uncle!

First trip to the zoo!

Our entire household

We are finally home!

Well, it took a while, but we finally got sent home today, with Isaac in tow. He responded so well to all the treatments for low blood sugar over the last twenty-four hours that as of 3:00PM this afternoon, he was released from the hospital and we were allowed to start our life as a family together at home.

Our time in the hospital was amazing. While no one chooses to have their son whisked away from them and put in the special care nursery, we definitely made the most of our time. Looking back, we met some very amazing people who taught us a plethora of knowledge. We truly felt like God was with us the entire time because people were constantly coming into our lives at the exact time that we needed them. Whether it was the nurse that explained to us everything that was going on with our child at 3AM so we could sleep peacefully knowing he would live or the lactation consultant that offered some very amazing advice that has allowed Megan and Isaac to grow closer by the minute or another nurse that helped to feed and comfort our child so we could skip a feeding and get some much needed rest. We owe a great debt to the people in the Special Care Nursery at Lexington Medical Center.

Our hearts and prayers go out to those families who are still there. Another child was experiencing the same things as Isaac, yet she hasn’t quite responded as quickly and could be there for several weeks. When you are in a nursery like that, you start seeing the same people over and over again. While we never really spoke about what was going on with our specific children, there was a sense of community, all of us parents suffering the heartache together, while our children suffered physically. It was hard for us to leave today and to look at some of those infants who were much worse than Isaac.

While we are extremely thankful to be home, it doesn’t take long to see how quickly kids get on a schedule. In just three days, Isaac had developed a very steady pattern of activity. Sleep time, mommy and daddy time, feeding time, then back to sleep. While in the hospital, he hardly whimpered or cried. Since we’ve been home, it doesn’t seem like he has stopped crying, especially tonight. Even as I write, he is screaming at the top of his lungs. I suppose he got spoiled and set in his routine while in the hospital, and now that we are out, he is in a foreign world. That and he got circumcised today, so that might have something to do with the fussiness. Anyways, pray for us because now is when the fun begins. At the hospital, it was easy, we sort of did what we were told to do. Now at home, we have to figure things out and we are off to a rocky start.

Things are looking up!

Our little man is doing so well. He is out of the incubator and out from under the blue light and back in his bassinet. As of 11:00 tonight they will completely take him off of the IV that he’s been on since Wednesday around noon. If his sugar levels stay on track overnight and into tomorrow then we will get to start looking at possibly bringing him home soon. He is really starting to take to feeding from Megan, which is huge. Megan has been such a champion about doing everything she can to get him up to speed health-wise. She breastfeeds, which normal takes like an hour to get to the nursery, to get him ready, to feed, to keep him alert and then to get him back settled down. Then she pumps, which takes thirty minutes or so. She rests for an hour or so and then starts the whole process over again. Her motherly nature is starting to kick in, and although it is hard sometimes, she pushes right through and gets it done, whatever ‘it’ may be. I am so proud of her. I can’t imagine going through anything like this with anyone other than her. She’s my hero.

Another quick word...

Although he is in the special care nursery, Isaac is doing great. He’s even gained weight, which I am told never happens after babies are born. It looks like he will have to stay a little while longer at the hospital but he is in a good place and getting better by the hour. Thanks to all for the thoughts, prayers and calls. We love you all!

A quick update

We are so thankful to have so many friends in this world. Thanks for all of the notes of congratulations and such. Just a quick update: Isaac’s first full day has been a very eventful one. From the start, he was very stubborn coming into this world. Megan is my hero. She went 16 hours in labor without any pain medication, the last three while being given Petocin, a drug that made her contractions way more difficult and more frequent. At 7:30 PM on Tuesday the doctor basically said it was time to rethink our attack plan and thus we decided for a c-section. Megan even handled that beautifully well. Needless to say, she is very sore. As for our little man, he is doing great, with only a few minor issues. Since the beginning, the doctors have been fighting his low blood sugar count. We tried supplementing formula but to no avail. So today, Wednesday, at 12:30PM they moved him to the ‘special care’ nursery. They have him hooked up to an IV and are giving him nutrition as well as glucose. His blood sugar level looks to have come up, but we still need more time and then they have to wean him off of the IV. He also has a little bit of jaundice coming on, so they have stuck him in an incubator and under a blue light. Needless to say, all of this is a little difficult for two new parents and grandparents to handle. Thankfully we have talked to several really awesome nurses who have calmed our fears a great deal. We simple ask for continued prayers at this time, for patience and good health. Thanks for all who have called and I apologize for not having answered the phone. Megan and I are trying to get as much rest as possible as often as possible, still trying to make up for the marathon of Tuesday. We will update as soon as possible. Again, we yet again realize how truly blessed we are!

A day full of Thanksgiving! – Part Two

As we mentioned before, we realize how blessed we truly are, especially when it comes to family. But our Thanksgiving day actually started out with what we consider our extended family, our Epworth family. Some how, and I say some how because I think it occurred through several different relationships and conversations, but some how, the Epworth kids had the joy of celebrating Thanksgiving with the University of South Carolina Football Team. That’s right, the entire team came to Epworth and had lunch with the kids. I wish everyone could have experienced it. To see the kids all excited and to see the players, in a completely different light, having fun with the kids and with each other was really great. Every child received a USC hat and then with some help from the staff, the autographs began. I am sure the players’ fingers are sore after signing their name nearly 75 times. It was not like the kids were just excited about getting their signatures, but more than that the players were there to see them, spending time with them. In fact, the autographs continued long after the players left, as the kids were literally signing each other by the end of the event. Coach Spurrier came and talked to the kids. He made sure that he made his way around and tried to speak with nearly every single kid personally. He could have been doing a million different things on Thanksgiving, namely spending it with his family, but he didn’t. He took time to come and to give back, to be with some kids who for a variety of reasons could not or were not with their families on Thanksgiving. He told them that they needed to be their best. And not just the best football player or actress, but the best in all that they did. It was definitely a different way to spend part of Thanksgiving.

A day full of Thanksgiving! – Part One

Our Thanksgiving this year was so full, both literally and physically, that we have to divide it into two parts. The first thing and most important thing that we are thankful for is our family. We have been so fortunate and blessed in our life as a couple never to have to divide our time during Thanksgiving. With our families living so close to each other, about an hour drive, we have been able to have a huge gathering, with both of our families present. This year was different, only in that we meet at our house, instead of Augusta, as we have the previous three years. Megan cannot exactly be jumping in the car and driving to terribly far right now, for obvious reasons. So no, no baby yet.

But we are aware, that our holiday tradition of a joint family is very, very rare. Almost every couple we know has to divide their time between families in some way. But not us. We get to be different. Our families get together, and actually enjoy being together. We are SO THANKFUL for that. It’s kind of overwhelming. So tonight, we joined together to share a meal, wonderful conversation and a ton of laughter with both of our parents and all three of our siblings. Megan’s sister even brought her Nintendo Wii so that we could play games together. You should have seen our parents laughing together during a game of bowling, all in the comfort of our living room. The mom’s finished first and second by the way.

We are so thankful to be bringing a child into this wonderful world that we are so blessed to be living in. I cannot even imagine how much fun next Thanksgiving will be when Isaac is around one year old, running around like a crazy kid, being loved by both sets of grandparents, both aunts and an uncle. We thank God for the blessing of family and we thank our families for being so great. We love you!

Getting closer

Another day, another doctor's appointment. Megan is doing great. Doc says she is 3 cm and 80% effaced. If we need to explain either of those numbers to you, don't bother asking, just know that they are good. Doc says we should make it through Thanksgiving, but not much longer than that. Thanks for the prayers!

Life in Pictures

Here are some current pictures of where we are right now...baby's room and Megan.

No 'guts', no glory

With the countdown at a little over three weeks, we have begun to panic a little bit about getting the house ready for Isaac’s arrival. With Megan being gone, doing some extremely high-level church business, I have used the last two days to do some much needed work around the house. One of the things I have done involves our toilet upstairs. Because we are using cloth diapers (49 million diapers are thrown away A DAY in the United States), we have this handy dandy sprayer that connects to the water line that leads into the toilet. The idea is you spray the diaper off into the toilet, which is supposedly less messy. The verdict is still out about that. Anyways, to install the sprayer, I had to shut off the water and take out a part and then install another part. In the process, mainly because the toilet seems to be the original when the house was built sixty years ago, I managed to break off a key part. To a lesser man, a phone call to a plumber would have followed. But not me. Call it pride if you will, I was determined to do this on my own. After a trip to a store (which I will comment on in a second), I had to parts needed to change the ‘guts’ out in my toilet. After some blood and sweat, I did it. Now, I am not one to talk a big game about much and I am definitely not one of those macho guys, but there isn’t much more ‘manly’ than changing the ‘guts’ out in a toilet. Insert Tim Allen’s macho grunt from Home Improvement, HUH, HUH, HUH!

As I said, I had to go to a store to get the needed supplies. I went to one of those large home improvement chain stores. Needing a couple of other things, I wandered around that stupid store for about an hour, looking lost all the while. When I finally did suck it up and asked for help, my question about another home improvement issue, was met with the response, “Can I special order that for you?” When I said no, the lady curtly told me that I would have to find the department specialist, that she couldn’t help me. Nice, gotta love that. Sooner or later, I found what I was looking for without anyone’s help. When I got home, I had another problem. Instead of going back to the big store mentioned above, I decided to go down the street, to the local ‘mom and pop’ hardware store. I was greeted by the usual folks, both of which asked, “What can we do for you?” Now, normally that question intimidates me because I really don’t know what I need, just that I need help. But here, the question wasn’t intimidating at all. I simply explained my problem and they went about getting me exactly what I needed to fix it. A very inexpensive solution, I might add. A great lesson in life about the fact that bigger is seldom better and personal service goes a very long way.

This reminded me of one of Megan’s favorite songs by David Wilcox called East Asheville Hardware. Check it out sometimes. It’s great. Here are the lyrics:

An angel appeared in a holy vision
Stood by my bedside in shivering light
Spoke my name Told me my mission
I could not believe I was hearing him right
Because he said, 'Go, my son, go...

Always go to East Asheville Hardware
Before you go to Lowe's

He said, "Go to East Asheville Hardware
Before you go to Lowe's

You'll help to keep them open
I'm worried they might close
From the stiff competition
From the national conglomerate
With the full page ad
in the color section of the Sunday paper supplement
and stacks of plastic swimming pools
and seven brands of power tools
and rows and rows of registers
all having nice days

But no, you go, he said to me with light around his face
He said, You go first to that age-old place
To that old wooden door that you have to close behind you
To the wide-board wooden floor worn down soft

To the real thing
Good advice, quality at a fair price
And know that they know how deep the frost goes here.

Sure there's stuff you'll have to find at Paty's, Lowe's or Sears

But go to East Asheville Hardware
Go to East Asheville Hardware
Before it disappears.

Letter to my unborn son

Dear Isaac,
You are being born into a crazy world, my son. Last night was historic, for many different reasons. The most obvious is the fact that our country has stepped out of its own shadows and elected it first African-American president. Many thought they would never see this day, both white and black alike. But it has come. And it is only the beginning. Our country, our world as we know it, is consumed with very divisive feelings. Everyone seems to have their own opinion about things, and very few are scared to share them. Our country is engaged in two wars, Iraq and Afghanistan. We seem to be at war with the economic structure and ways in which to preserve the environment as well. We are at war with each other over other issues, like abortion and gay marriage, hot-button ‘moral’ issues as they are called. There are strong arms on both sides of these battles. But there are many of us who find ourselves in the middle of all these struggles. It seems that we in the middle have had enough of the tension, being pulled back and forth between the right and the left, and have finally found our voice. Whites and blacks, young and old, came out in record numbers yesterday and declared in a loud voice, “Things have to change”. This will not be easy and it will not be overnight. The change we seek does not reside in the policies and practices of one man or one party. Instead, they are the very ideals of all people, all created in the image of God, coming together for the future of this nation and our world. The Psalmist warns, “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal souls, who cannot save.” God alone saves. So we put our trust and our hope in God, praying that whatever may come from this time, above all else we know that God is still in control. Never before have I personally felt as hopeful to see change coming than I am today. With God’s help, God’s people, in many different shapes, sizes, colors and creeds, are moving out of the long-forgotten center and onto center stage. I promise to do all I can to work with others to improve this world, living the life demonstrated by my Savior, Jesus Christ, loving God, my neighbor and all creation, so that you will never have to live in fear, so you can live the life that God intends for you to live, no matter what that looks like. While the world is crazy, it is the world that God created, the world that above all else God still rules. May you see the joy of your future, exactly how God intends it to be. You are truly blessed, my son, welcome to this world. Love, Dad.

I'm just not that important!

Two nights ago, as I was getting ready to get in bed, I realized that I had left my phone downstairs. I was faced with a choice. Either I could run down and get it and return it to its night-time location, on the nightstand next to my bed in case there is ever an emergency, plugged in so that it charges for the next day. Or I could just leave it and get it on my way out the next morning. Deep inside of me, I had this fear. This would be the one night that I didn’t have it and someone would call, needing me in the middle of the night and I wouldn’t be there to hear it ring. I bring this up, as sort of a confession and cleansing, as well as a plea to others. I think I am way more important than I really am, as if the world hinges on my availability and my ability to pick up the phone at a moment’s notice. I am not that important. Things are not that important.

I say this, because this brings up a larger issue. I am tired of hearing phones ring in meetings, gathering and especially in worship services. Now, let me preface this next statement by saying, we all make mistakes and forget to turn our phones off. I’ve done it, once or twice. Everyone has done it a time or two. I can forgive that. But what gets my goat is the fact that people constantly come into meetings, gatherings, even worship services and do not turn their phones off or put them on silence/vibrate. And if that is not enough, when the phone rings, they fail to immediately silence it. Normally what happens is the phone rings, they don’t realize it is their phone. Then when the shock wears off, they pull it out and look at it, trying to figure out who is calling. Then they answer it, while running out of the room, trying not to be rude. Oops. The damage has already been done. Why run out? You’ve already distracted everyone around. Listen, in all seriousness, if we as people are intelligent enough to own a phone, we better know how to operate it, meaning turn the ringer off immediately when it rings, or better yet, put it on silence or vibrate to begin with. If one does not know how to do that, then maybe one would be better served not owning a phone at all. Besides, are things ever really that important? I say this, and for the next five weeks I will be a slave to my phone, especially when my wife calls, for obvious reasons. But that is different. The day to day routine of life is never really as important as we think it is. When we go to meet with people, let’s do something revolutionary and actually meet with them, in a real, relational sort of way. Let’s put the noise of the rest of our lives aside and be fully present with them, giving them our undivided attention. Let’s make them as important as God intended them to be. Remember that whole, “Love God and your neighbor” thing? It has to start somewhere, right?

By the way, two nights ago, I ran downstairs and got my phone. Like I said, this is more of a confession than anything else. Maybe next time, I’ll just go to bed, realizing that the world will continue to turn, no matter where my phone is located. I’m just not that important.

Pastor of a Champion

I love my calling. Now, there are definitely days in which I am not so quick to thank God for calling me into the ministry, but it seems that I am always fed just enough to keep me energized and excited about what I have been chosen to do. I get to see things and be a part of some very interesting things. Today, I found myself in some uncharted territory. I called to ask several of my friends if they had every experienced what I saw today. The conversation went like this, “Have you ever seen a pumpkin seed spitting contest?” “Um, No.” “Well, then that means you have never seen a pumpkin seed spitting contest in which all fifteen competitors were 90 year old women.” That’s right friends and neighbors, I got to experience a group of 90 year old women spitting pumpkin seeds. How great is that? While I was visiting one of our more experienced members at her assisted living community, the activities coordinator came around to gather up the residents for the fun. You should have heard them. They were fussing and complaining. “I don’t know how to spit.” Not true. Everyone knows how to spit. It’s one of the first things we come out of the womb doing (I’m sure I’ll learn more about that in about five weeks.). And sure enough, it didn’t take long for the women to get the hang of it. And not only that, in spite of the complaining, several actually enjoyed it. They would spit and then giggle, like little school girls. It was hilarious. And the best line I’ve heard in quite some time, “Now, don’t spit so hard your dentures come out. The nurse wouldn’t like that at all.” When it was all said and done, my church member actually won, she spit her seed the farthest. She was the champion. Never has there been a more proud pastor. God sure does have a great sense of humor.

The Spirit, she’s amovin

One of the great things about God is the fact that you never know what’s going to come your way day in and day out. I love how I can come to church and have absolutely nothing on my plate for the day and plan on getting some much needed paperwork done, only to find out that the Spirit is moving and God has plans that I did not even know existed. Take today for example. Out of nowhere, I was able to meet two guys from The General Board of Global Ministries spending about two hours with them at the church and over lunch. We talked about mutual friends who are doing amazing work as well as discussing plans for a very exciting and innovative conference/summit/gathering that hopefully will occur in Columbia around May of next year. It was refreshing, to think yet again about the fact that our calling as Christians is so much larger than just what we see in front of our eyes in our own community. And to think, I thought today was going to be boring.

More than a professor, a friend

About two years ago, Megan bought me a madras jacket, the one above. She had no idea why I wanted one, just that I had said several times I would like one. So finding one on ebay, she ordered it and gave it to me as a present for some occasion. The real reason that I wanted one was because Dr. Larry McGehee always wore them at Wofford.

Second semester my junior year, if I recall correctly, I signed up for five classes. This was a break from the norm for me, a slack student who always signed up for the bare minimum. It’s still any wonder how I ever got out of school on time. But this particular semester, I had decided to reach out and to extend myself a bit, taking fifteen hours, rather than twelve. I received an invitation from a fairly odd faculty member named Dr. Larry McGehee, asking me to take his Religion 340 course, Religion in America. Being a religion major, he felt like I fit the mold, whatever that was, to take his seminar style class. I walked in for the first class, meeting in the Presidential suite in Gibbs Stadium to find a class mostly dominated by seniors. I was extremely intimidated. Finding my seat, I immediately realized I was in over my head. I was taking a second semester of Greek as well as several other classes that were challenging at the time. So my only option, or so I thought, was to politely drop out. I can remember that feeling, when I told Dr. McGehee that I was going to drop his class. I knew it was a privilege to be invited to take the class, but I just didn’t believe that I was up for it. He was sad, you could tell. I felt terrible, like I had let him down, like I had disappointed him. You know that feeling like when you let your parents down by making a bad decision.

As the semester passed, and fall of my senior year came and went, a week did not pass in which I did not have some interaction with Dr. McGehee. It was as if he was stalking me for not sticking with it, not in the bad kind of way, but in the supportive, ‘I’m here for you’ kind of way. I will never forget the surprise I felt that when I started to sign up for my final semester at Wofford, when he approached me about yet again participating in his seminar class. Now that I knew him, there was no way I was passing up another opportunity.

That was so like Dr. McGehee. He believed in his students, way more than we ever believed in ourselves. He constantly sought us out, wanted our opinions, desired to learn from us, rather than just sitting back and teaching us all he knew, which was the world. He could have spent hours upon days upon weeks and years, sharing his knowledge, he had that much, but instead he invested his time and energy, learning with us, experiencing life with us. Never was a man his age more proficient in the ways of technology, leaving his students trying to catch up with him. He was always quick with a small and something funny to say, lightening the mood whenever he could. The only thing he loved more than learning was his family and the Wofford community, which most of the time, you couldn’t tell the two apart, except for ‘the Queen Mother’, his wonderful wife Betsy, who knew us probably just as much as Larry did because I’m sure he shared everything with her.

Dr. McGehee was first and foremost a word-smith, a vocabulary genius or any other way you could describe someone who has complete mastery of language. Here’s an example. These words were the last I, along with many others, received from Dr. McGehee. They came via an email thank you following this year's Homecoming. “When I arrived at Wofford in 1982 and for every day since, Wofford College has laid her hands upon me, levitating, elevating, and otherwise ever uplifting me. She embraced me so tightly that I went without vacations, holidays, and Saturdays and Sundays, for a quarter century. I was unaware of how dependent, Antaeus-like, upon being on campus I had become, until late April of this year, when some virus complicated my existing fibrosis condition and laid me low. I have been unable to return to campus since then, and have given up my office. The daily lunches with colleagues in the faculty dining room, lunch once or twice a week with students, Acorn café coffee visits, and post office runs are missed sorely, making me ever more mindful of the Wofford magic kingdom that inspired me and sustained me. I am thankful for Wofford College.”

No, it is we, who are thankful of you, Dr. McGehee. I didn’t know Dr. McGehee nearly as well as some of my peers, for they were much better students of the master than I was. But I did learn from him that it didn’t matter what kind of student I was because he loved us all. Dr. McGehee passed away last night from his recent illnesses. I, along with all the others that he touched over the years, will miss him greatly. I, for one, will think of him every time I slip my jacket on, you can count on that.

My idealistic ways

I was out the other day and noticed a young child in a stroller who had a bottle of milk in her mouth, propped up on the side, just sitting there. Wanting to impress my wife and my mother, I said to them, “You know, you are not supposed to do that with a child because it could lead to problems later on.” I had read that in one of the books that I am desperately digesting in preparation of Isaac’s arrival. I know, I know, books are nothing like the real thing. But, what will it hurt in trying to be better informed? Books are a guide, they are not the concrete rule. Anyways, my mom’s response to my comment, which I thought was a very insightful assessment of the situation, was to roll her eyes, like she often does with me, and claim, “You are so idealistic.” Shaking her head she says, “Just you wait.” I love my mom.

For the second time in a couple of days, this idea of being idealistic verses realistic has come up. I had talked with a friend of mine about ministry and new ministers. He had commented about how when talking to new ministers, those just starting out, candidates for ministry even, that you find a level of excitement that you do not see everyday. “Before they become jaded by the church”, he says, which I can totally relate with. You learn things in school and you see the church a certain way when you first start out and then when you get into the church, you find things that you are not prepared for and you end up dealing with things that are totally different than anything you ever imagined. This is not just in ministry, it seems to be pervasive throughout our lives. It seems that this struggle is on-going, the battle between idealistic and realistic. Does it always have to be this way? I mean, in order to be realistic and in the moment, must we give up a desire for things to be better, to be idealistic? We feel this when we are young. The idea that the world is ours to conquer, we can do anything and we can be anything. And then, something happens, we get a little older, we have an experience or two, and the next thing you know, our idealism is gone, and we think, “I guess this is it. This is what they warned me about.” And then, and this is where it really gets bad, we start raining on other people’s parades. We think, well, if I cannot be idealistic, neither should you. And then we become cynical and jaded toward other people and their idealism.

I believe this goes much deeper than just being optimistic or pessimistic. For me, if optimism sees the glass half full, then idealistic means working actively to fill the glass the rest of the way up. Now, if this metaphor holds true, and if pessimism sees the glass half empty, does being cynical and jaded means that you are actively trying to pour the rest of whatever is in the glass out? If we live our lives jaded and cynical, do we not fall into the trap of trying to hold down the dreamers of this world because our dreams have not been realized? Possibly, if we are not careful.

The prophet Joel once described the Day of the Lord by quoting God saying, “I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughter will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young me will see visions. Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit on those days (2:28-29).” This message was so important that Peter repeated it in his first sermon at Pentecost (see Acts 2). What’s truly important is that we do not let the day to day junk that we deal with take away from our desire to be better and to live differently than we are right now. We should never stop dreaming and we should never forget about God’s Spirit that resides with us, throughout all of our junk. Realistically, we should live in the world in the most idealistic way possible, dreaming dreams and visioning visions of the way things can be. God wants nothing more and demands nothing less than for us to a little bit better today than we were yesterday.

"O God of Every Nation"

In celebrating World Communion Sunday yesterday, we sang the hymn “O God of Every Nation”. I am not sure if you are familiar with it or not, but I found the words to be extremely powerful and moving, especially when thinking about war and our world and America’s role in it all. It may be my new favorite hymn.

O God of every nation, of every race and land, redeem your whole creation with your almighty hand; where hate and fear divide us, and bitter threats are hurled, in love and mercy guide us and heal our strife-torn world.

From search for wealth and power and scorn of truth and right, from trust in bombs that shower destruction through the night, from pride of race and station and blindness to your way, deliver every nation, eternal God we pray.

Lord, strengthen all who labor that all may find release from fear of rattling saber, from dread of war’s increase; when hope and courage falter, Lord, let your voice be heard; with faith that none can alter, your servants undergird.

Keep bright in us the vision of days when war shall cease, when hatred and division give way to love and peace, till dawns the morning glorious when truth and justice reign, and Christ shall rule victorious o’er all the world’s domain.

It reminds me of Israel. When we were over there, we said on several occasions, “The only thing that can change this land and bring peace is Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace.” As we look over the landscape of our world, specifically our nation, and see the divisiveness that exists everywhere, it appears Jesus is the only answer for all of us.

Balance

I’ve written about this before, but it came up again today. I visited an older church member who is living in an ‘extended care’ facility, a step beyond a nursing home, meaning the staff interacts more often with the resident. At least, they are supposed to. The place was noisy, cluttered and smelled bad. The residents live two to a room. It truly is an awkward situation at best. She is well on up in her years and I was struck by the difficult situation that she was now facing. Modern medicine and technology had allowed her to live more years, but those years have not been ‘good’ years, they have been years spent going in and out of hospitals and nursing care facilities. The quality of life has declined, while the quantity of years has increased. It leaves me wondering, ‘Is it truly worth it?’ I see people like this more than I would like and I am always plagued by the same question. Have we gotten ahead of ourselves with technology and medicine? Obviously, the desire to prolong life has to be due to the fact that we value life above all else. I recently heard a line on a radio advertisement. It said, “And nothing is more important than life.” Is that true? As a Christian, as one who is trying to follow Jesus and live into his teachings, I want to finish that line by saying, “Nothing is more important than life in Christ.” Without Christ, this life is all we have and personally, I believe God is calling us to more. Don’t get me wrong, I am not being fatalistic or anything, I do not want to die any more than the next person. But death is not the end. I’ve been working through Philippians recently and I am drawn to Paul’s line, “For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain.” Dying is more Christ. That’s something to be excited about, even if it is a little scary. But we fear death so much that we are doing anything and everything to prolong life, even if the quality of life is poor, thanks to the advancements in technology and medicine.

Now, to be sure, there is a balance with everything. Thanks to the advancement in technology and medicine, I was able to see an absolutely amazing picture of my son this morning. While I continue to ponder life, let me introduce you to Isaac Hamilton Gray. (Around the 50 second mark, it shifts to 4-D imaging. It will blow your mind.) He is not due until December 5th, but yet we are able to see some really cool pictures. I am thankful for the ways technology and medicine make our lives amazing, but want to make sure that our lives remain amazing, rather than just adding on some years.

The Bookends of Life

It’s not often you get to see the bookends of life, either the beginning or the end, so to see them both in one day is quite amazing. I sat, or stood is more like it, at the doctor’s office and watched with excitement yet another ultrasound of my son who is now 24 weeks and 4 days old, but who’s counting. He has gone from looking like an alien, to looking like a young cyborg from the movie Terminator, to now looking a little bit like a monkey. A very cute monkey, I might add. Seeing life at such an early stage is a little overwhelming, at times beyond comprehension. Our little guy is growing at a good rate and all of Megan’s numbers are looking great. Now we wait some more. She is feeling him move around a ton and I, for the first time, actually felt him kick the other night. I’ve only felt it once, so either I am the ‘Baby Whisperer’ and have a truly calming influence or my son is already a momma’s boy and I don’t stand a chance. Either way, we’re pretty excited.

If that wasn’t enough for one day, this same day I experienced a rare blessing of getting to spend the final few hours of life with a beautiful ninety-one year-old woman. It is one of those aspects of this calling that you really can’t explain. Death is something that really freaks people out, but as a pastor, specifically one to a mostly older congregation, death is a fact of life. I really have come to see that being allowed into these sacred final few moments of life as an honor and a blessing. After several hours spent during the day calming her restless spirit, the phone rang late in the evening with the news. “She’s climbed that final hill.” And she has finished her race, a long race, run very well. A life-long educator, she taught her final lesson today, as I learned yet again how beautiful life and death can truly be. Thanks be to God for both!

Overlooking some overachievers

I heard somewhere that a big sporting event was going on half way around the world. Ok, so I’m only joking. I, like the rest of the world, have been entranced by all that is the Olympics. I must admit, sleep has been at a minimum for us over the last week. We have stayed up to watch the Games. We love it, mainly because it is the only time we really pay attention to some of these sports. I mean, seriously, how many of us watch gymnastics and swimming at any other time at all? (I have been to one swim meet at USC, but that was because I knew someone competing.) But this is the biggest stage in the world and I guess you could argue that these athletes are the best of the best. And so we watch.

Unless you have been hiding under a rock, you have probably heard about Michael Phelps’ quest for eight gold medals. That has been the story above all stories of these games. I hope he does it. I really do. But, I also hope we can move on and learn about some of these other athletes at some point. I’m sure we will after Saturday when swimming ends.

I was talking about all this a friend of mine the other day. He raised the issue that we are not hearing as much about the other swimmers and how the relays that Phelps swims are team events. He said, “What about those other guys? We have not heard nearly anything about them.” And then he made a comment that made me think. (“And this is the poetry that moved my soul.” A David Wilcox line for you.) “You know” he said, “It’s sort of like single people in the church. All we hear about is family this and family that and how the church needs to have kids so that it can have a future. What about us single folks? What about us?” I was blown away. What an awesome comparison. It is so true. The church has bought into the American dream wholeheartedly, the idea that you have to go to school and then get married and then have kids. That’s how we determine success, both as a nation and, unfortunately, as a church. But what about all those single people out there? What does the church do for them? How are they included? Now, one of the responses will always be, “What about singles groups at church? They have those, right?” And I am sure that most big churches do. But even then, singles say that groups like that are really used to try and hook singles up with other singles. And for what reason? So they can get married and have children of course. You see, we fall short is honoring people and giving them value no matter what their marital status is. In fact, the New Testament finds Paul going as far as to say that some people served God more faithfully when they were single and encouraged individuals not to get married. What a novel idea? What would our congregations think of that teaching? So, hopefully we can learn a lesson from the media’s coverage of the Games and honor all people, for exactly who they are as individuals created in God’s image, married and single. (Mad props Randy, mad props!)

Needs

Being downtown, we frequently hear the doorbell ring and find someone on our doorstep in need. They always have a story to tell. Like Tony, who just stopped by for a cup of water in order to wash his breakfast down, a breakfast that was simply a Little Debbie’s Nutty Bar. He also asked for a couple of bus passes to get him to and from work. Tony’s been by several times, it’s always the same. A cup of water and a couple of bus passes. This time, he had just finished spending several nights in jail for assault. Someone had cursed out his twelve year old daughter at the bus stop and he had to make a choice on how he should react. Obviously, in the words of the Third Knight, “He chose poorly.” (Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade reference.)

Then there’s Marion. Marion first came by needing a post office box so he could get mail and his disability check. So we paid for a PO Box for him, which we’ve done several times over in my several years. Then he came needing a haircut or a new pair of shoes or a new coat or this and that. He always spends a few minutes shooting the breeze. He always tells me where he is living and how ‘there ain’t a lot a work out these days’. After a little chit chat, the conversation turns to what they need, the concrete possession they are lacking or the money they need to keep something going.

Now, I don’t have a clue whether or not the stories these men and women give me are true or not. I’d like to believe they are, but I’m not that naïve. I realize they are using me, that they really probably could care less about me or the church and that are really on a mission to get something and if I don’t give it to them, they will probably go elsewhere. Realizing all that, I have also come to a realization about myself. I really don’t care about their motives. You see, when I am sitting and listening to these stories that they tell, eventually I know they are going to get around to the truth of the matter and they are going to ask for what they need. And that is at the heart of any relationship. What one needs. It just so happens that these folks I am referring to, while their stories may be made up, they will truthfully tell you what they need. This stands in contrast to the many relationships we are in as human beings. In our ‘normal relationships’, we skirt around the needs that we have. Instead of saying, “I need to…” or “I need you to…” to our loved ones, to our friends, to our families, we build up walls and force them to play guessing games as to our needs. Actually, being needy is seen as being weak. No one wants to be classified as needy. But yet, we all are. Living in a broken world, we all have needs. Whether it’s to be accepted or to be loved or to be affirmed or to be held accountable or to be challenged, whatever it is, we all have needs. But I believe the great thing about all this is the fact that we worship a God who meets our needs. And God meets all our needs, not necessarily the way we think they should be met all the time, but God meets them nonetheless. And one way in which our needs are met is through the love and grace of other people. Now, wouldn’t it do us well, to open our lines of communication, to freely speak to one another about our needs, so as we don’t have to guess anymore. People are sent into our lives to meet our needs and to help us meet the needs of other, but we have to speak truthfully. I am thankful for Tony, Marion and the others, for teaching me to open up and to be honest about my own needs.

Lessons from Coleman

While in Kansas, we made a quick stop at the Coleman Factory Outlet and Museum. Coleman products are used by most everyone who camps. Coleman began in Kansas by WC Coleman who produced lanterns and lamps in the very beginning. The museum honoring the company and the plant are in Wichita. Among the items at the Museum was a list of Mr. Coleman’s Personal Qualities That Insure Success. They are interesting and inspiring, especially thinking about them as a Christians and as pastors. Here they are:

1) A practical imagination. Every element contributing to human progress is first conceived and visualized in the human mind
2) A pioneering spirit which always believes there are new methods and better things to be discovered.
3) Initiative which impels one to do something about it.
4) Courage to launch out and attempt the seemingly impossible.
5) Resourcefulness that overcomes every difficulty along the way.
6) Persistence, that is, the power to carry through to completion.
7) The joy of achievement, which makes hard work a pleasure.
8) Capacity to work with other people. Every great achievement requires cooperative effort, and loyalty to a common purpose.
9) A becoming humility which acknowledges the help of others.
10) Qualities of the heart which cause one to find real joy and satisfaction in promoting the welfare of others.

What if we as a Church lived by these rules? What would the church look like for the future if we actually put these into practice?

The Name Game

One of the questions that has come our way recently has been the traditional, “What are you going to name your son?” Of course, if a guy asks me or us this question, he always suggests his own name as an option. I guess that is just a guy thing, a weird guy thing, but a guy thing. But naming this child is a big deal. I suppose it feels like the first big decision that we can make that will have a lasting impact. I mean, this is the name that my boy will be called for the rest of his life. Names are important. Even God has a name, as much as ‘I AM’ is a name, not an everyday name, but it is a name. And so names bring identity. It’s something that can be worn with pride or carried in disgrace. Names are what set us apart, unless you are a John Smith, and then it’s something more that sets you apart. Names are a big deal and so the act of naming our child is weighing pretty heavy. I’ve been lobbying for several months for Fenway, after the home of the Red Sox, but Megan doesn’t seem to be having any of that. We’ve actually had some really good conversations about names, serious ones. In fact, I think we’ve picked one out, but we’ll have to see. We are not quite ready to throw it out there just yet. More to come…

Saying Goodbye

I was struck by how hard it was saying goodbye to people at the family reunion last weekend. I don’t know them very well, nor have I known them for very long, but I felt a deep sense of connection with them. They are family now, whether I am an in-law or out-law or whatever you want to call me. Sunday morning was hard. I think it was hard because we don’t know when we would see these people again. 727 days is a long time away and a lot can happen between now and then.

It got me thinking, is it possible to say good-bye well? I mean, the whole concept of leaving someone goes against the way in which we have been created, as creatures who crave community and relationships. So naturally, leaving and saying good-bye is awkward at best. This reminds me of a story I heard one time. I don’t know if it is true or not, but supposedly while on his death bed, some of John Wesley’s final words were, “And the best of all God is with us.” Now that’s a cool way to say good-bye. “And the best of all God is with us.”
Brad

Traveling Challenges

So we got back late Tuesday night from Kansas. The thing is, we were supposed to get in Monday evening. The story goes, we arrived at the airport at 3PM on Monday only to have our flight delayed by an hour and a half. So our 4:15 departure was pushed back to 5:45. Then around 6PM, we find out the flight is cancelled and we are scheduled to fly out at 5:50, the next morning. People, I’m still on vacation. And I am not about to wake up at no 4AM while I’m on vacation. So we pushed our flight back to 1:15PM (Tuesday), getting us to Atlanta at 4PM, then to Charleston at 6PM and finally home at 8PM, no big deal. So we leave the airport at 7PM on Monday having been there for 4 hours. Thankfully, the airline, that shall remain nameless, put us up for the night in a hotel and gave us food vouchers. Sleeping in and shopping a bit on Tuesday for some last minute gifts, we got to the airport at noon for our 1:15 flight. While checking in, the airline worker offered us compensation for our seats, in the form of travel vouchers, i.e. a free flight, and scheduled us for the same original flight plan as the day before, the dreaded 4:11 flight from Wichita to Atlanta. For some reason, we felt good and we took the deal. Imagine our dismay when the dreaded 4:11 flight was delayed until 6:30 after having been there since noon. For those not good with numbers, I’ll do the math for you. That’s ten and a half hours in the Wichita airport. That’s about nine and a half hours too long, in a very little airport, complete with screaming kids, angry travelers (not us, other people) and a set of twins I deemed the ‘creatures of chaos’ (Because of them, I am thankful we are only having one). Miraculously, we managed to make our original flight out of Atlanta. Because of storms, it had been delayed. So we landed in Charleston at midnight on Tuesday night, when we were supposed to be in at 10PM on Monday. Interesting couple of days to say the least. I thank God for safe travel, an understanding wife and just enough patience to get us home. Now for our vacation from our vacation.
Brad

Micah's words

We read this last night in Bible Study. I love it.

“Many nations will come and say,

‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD,

to the house of the God of Jacob.

He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.’

The law will go out from Zion,

the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.

He will judge between many peoples and will settle disputes

for strong nations far and wide.

They will beat their swords into plowshares and

their spears into pruning hooks.

Nation will not take up sword against nation,

nor will they train for war anymore.

Every man will sit under his own vine and under his own fig tree,

and no one will make them afraid, for the LORD Almighty has spoken.

All the nations may walk in the name of their gods;

we will walk in the name of the LORD our God for ever.”

-Micah 4:2-5 (NIV)

I love this passage for its vision of peace, but I am drawn more to the line, ‘no one will make them afraid’. We live in a world that wants us to be afraid. We are constantly being told who or what we should fear. Whether it’s a poor economy, soaring gas prices, a terrible housing market, infectious diseases, war across the world, violence here at home, terrorism threat levels, natural disasters or terrible weather, we are always being put on the defensive, being told, that we should fear this or that. It is so good to know that a day will come when we don’t have to fear a thing, a day in which God will set things right.

Brad

“We’re not in Kansas anymore!”

For those of you who did not know, we’ve been in Kansas since last Wednesday on vacation. That’s right, I said Kansas. For VACATION. Every other year, Megan’s father’s family holds the Stone Family Reunion in Kansas, where it all began, or close to where it all began. I believe it actually began in Oklahoma, but that’s another story. Anyways, it’s quite an impressive gathering of around 90 people, from 9 states, with at least 4 generations present. Having only been present for the last 2, I do not have much experience with the extended family, but I have found them very kind and loving, with a tiny bit of competitive nature sprinkled in there. It is with the last part that makes me feel right at home.

Two events highlight the weekend that is filled with fun and fellowship. Each event finds a winner having his or her name written on a trophy to be carried for one year. The first is the golf tournament that occurs Friday morning. Two winners, low gross and low net (the former being the person’s score, the latter the score when the handicap is factored in). For the second straight reunion, I walked away with the low net score. Shooting 75 (par 71 course) while carrying a 13 handicap makes it pretty easy. There is something about my game and the Hesston golf course that clicks. I cannot explain it. Last reunion I shot 76 with a 15 handicap. Needless to say the word sand-bagger and a few others were thrown my way.

The other event that occurs during the weekend is far more important and far more coveted. It’s the Stone Family Pitch tournament, a mid-west or Kansas card game that nearly no one east of the Mississippi has heard of. I’ve asked, and the answer is always no. It’s kind of like spades and bridge in there is a trump suit and you get to bid and when points with a partner. The Stone family has been playing pitch for a long time and nearly everyone over the age of 15 plays. The tournament is double elimination and this year 24 teams competed. The winner has their name written on a water dipper that was on the Stone Family Ranch many years ago. Needless to say, the tournament is a big deal and a lot of people watch the final couple of games. You also draw your partner at random. I managed to get paired with my sister-in-law Abby. And thanks to her gutsy and amazing play, we made it to the championship game, out of the loser’s bracket, and forced a final championship game, only to lose. It was exciting nonetheless.

So all in all, I won a share of the golf tournament and finished second in the pitch tournament, in my second family reunion. I can honestly say, I don’t believe in the sophomore slump/jinx/curse. Oh, and by the way, I am hoping to start teaching others to play pitch so to start training for two years out. You can never start too early.

It truly was a wonderful vacation, exhausting, but great to visit a close-knit family, separated by many, many miles. Can’t wait for 2010!
Brad