"No one has inspired more blacks for hope in America than I have."--Jesse Jackson on "Donahue," MSNBC, Jan. 15
one word: Jesus
1/18/2003
earning an 'E' for effort
I just helped my kids make their pinewood derby cars for the big AWANA rally tomorrow night.
I'm not very crafty.
I'm the guy who always gave his parents ashtrays from art class, even though they didn't smoke, just because I couldn't make anything else.
Despite having a wonderful new set of power tools from my parents for Christmas, I failed to cut even one (1) straight line using the jigsaw. And yes, my fingers were in peril on numerous occasions. If one were identifying me by these derby projects, they'd assume I wear multiple prosthetics and suffer from a total lack of depth perception.
Kaylyn wanted a car that was in the shape of the letters BARBIE. I ended up with POPED. I'm hoping Kelli can work her magic on the thing with paint and stickers.
Cotter, on the other hand (still with five fingers, Praise God!), wanted a car in the shape of a rocket. When it was completed, I told him to quit crying and just pretend it was a rocket, even if it looked more like a pickle.
Now, tomorrow night, my daughter's popemobile and my son's swift pickle are going up against derby cars that were turned on lathes and created men who dare to actually call themselves "woodworkers" (whereas I call myself "an industrial accident just waiting to happen"). Their cars will bear names like "Dart" and "Zippy (compared to our "Hey, I tried" and "Please just make it to the finish line")." Victory is unlikely. Disqualification is probable. But I take joy in knowing I can bring laughter to the men in my congregation, for where I am weak, there my Lord is strong (I'm not sure that's what the Bible really means, but it gives me peace to know my salvation isn't dependant upon being able to fashion a key to the pearly gates using a cordless saw and a 50 cent block of wood.)
I'm not very crafty.
I'm the guy who always gave his parents ashtrays from art class, even though they didn't smoke, just because I couldn't make anything else.
Despite having a wonderful new set of power tools from my parents for Christmas, I failed to cut even one (1) straight line using the jigsaw. And yes, my fingers were in peril on numerous occasions. If one were identifying me by these derby projects, they'd assume I wear multiple prosthetics and suffer from a total lack of depth perception.
Kaylyn wanted a car that was in the shape of the letters BARBIE. I ended up with POPED. I'm hoping Kelli can work her magic on the thing with paint and stickers.
Cotter, on the other hand (still with five fingers, Praise God!), wanted a car in the shape of a rocket. When it was completed, I told him to quit crying and just pretend it was a rocket, even if it looked more like a pickle.
Now, tomorrow night, my daughter's popemobile and my son's swift pickle are going up against derby cars that were turned on lathes and created men who dare to actually call themselves "woodworkers" (whereas I call myself "an industrial accident just waiting to happen"). Their cars will bear names like "Dart" and "Zippy (compared to our "Hey, I tried" and "Please just make it to the finish line")." Victory is unlikely. Disqualification is probable. But I take joy in knowing I can bring laughter to the men in my congregation, for where I am weak, there my Lord is strong (I'm not sure that's what the Bible really means, but it gives me peace to know my salvation isn't dependant upon being able to fashion a key to the pearly gates using a cordless saw and a 50 cent block of wood.)
i thank God for MY mother-in-law
and not because she reads my blog, but because she's not like this:
(From the NY Times) Michael Wines (NYT)
FRANCE: IN-LAW CONFESSES IN FAKE TERROR CASE The mother-in-law of an airport baggage handler has confessed to trying to help frame him by arranging for weapons and explosives to be placed in the trunk of his car. Fatia Bechiri blamed her son-in-law, Abderazak Besseghir, for her daughter's death in a household fire and intended to seek vengeance by having him jailed as an Islamic terrorist. Mr. Besseghir, 27, was arrested in late December after the police, acting on a tip from a former French Foreign Legionnaire, found the weapons in his car. The former soldier and another man, Patrick Pouchoulin, later confessed to putting the weapons there and Mr. Besseghir was released last week. Mrs. Bechiri and her husband, Ahmed Bechiri, have been placed under investigation.
and from the WSJ Best of the Web, commenting on this story:
Should legislators pass new laws to prevent this kind of thing from happening in the future? Probably not. After all, if in-laws were outlawed, only outlaws would have in-laws.
(From the NY Times) Michael Wines (NYT)
FRANCE: IN-LAW CONFESSES IN FAKE TERROR CASE The mother-in-law of an airport baggage handler has confessed to trying to help frame him by arranging for weapons and explosives to be placed in the trunk of his car. Fatia Bechiri blamed her son-in-law, Abderazak Besseghir, for her daughter's death in a household fire and intended to seek vengeance by having him jailed as an Islamic terrorist. Mr. Besseghir, 27, was arrested in late December after the police, acting on a tip from a former French Foreign Legionnaire, found the weapons in his car. The former soldier and another man, Patrick Pouchoulin, later confessed to putting the weapons there and Mr. Besseghir was released last week. Mrs. Bechiri and her husband, Ahmed Bechiri, have been placed under investigation.
and from the WSJ Best of the Web, commenting on this story:
Should legislators pass new laws to prevent this kind of thing from happening in the future? Probably not. After all, if in-laws were outlawed, only outlaws would have in-laws.
1/16/2003
and now...a word from our sponsor
If a wise man contends with a foolish man, whether the fool rages or laughs, there is no peace. -- proverbs 29:9
proverbs#14
nothing so completely baffles one who is full of duplicity himself as straightforward and simple integrity in another.
1/15/2003
here I come to save the day!
I hope you read that title in the tune of the famous Mighty Mouse battle cry!
anyway, do you have an important decision to make, but can't choose between two seemingly equally appealing alternatives?
Then use Jenken the online home of Rock Paper Scissors.
And may the fates be kind to you.
anyway, do you have an important decision to make, but can't choose between two seemingly equally appealing alternatives?
Then use Jenken the online home of Rock Paper Scissors.
And may the fates be kind to you.
the results are in
recent testing has revealed....
What Was Your PastLife?
these came to me via Rachel, about whom I learned from The Gleeful Extremist.
disclaimer: I do not believe I was a jester in a past life. I don't believe in past lives. I'm willing to believe in jesters, if enough evidence of them is proven. I believe humor is the result of a multi-million year evolutionary process initiated by an instantaneous "Big Giggle" and grew over an indeterminible time from chortles to guffaws to snorts, teeheehees, knee slappers, and ultimately, laughter.
disclaimer: I am not a firearm. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused.
What Was Your PastLife?
 |
Which Firearm are you? |
these came to me via Rachel, about whom I learned from The Gleeful Extremist.
disclaimer: I do not believe I was a jester in a past life. I don't believe in past lives. I'm willing to believe in jesters, if enough evidence of them is proven. I believe humor is the result of a multi-million year evolutionary process initiated by an instantaneous "Big Giggle" and grew over an indeterminible time from chortles to guffaws to snorts, teeheehees, knee slappers, and ultimately, laughter.
disclaimer: I am not a firearm. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused.
scarry stories
A Chilean artist has opened an exhibition of photographs of people with scars
disclaimer: this image is not from the exhibition. It is merely an example of a scar, for those who may be unclear on my use of medical terminology.
The artist said "Every time we look at a scar we tend to wonder how they got them. I am attracted to the idea of surrounding myself with those stories."
I agree that we tend to be fascinated with scar stories.
Not long ago I was on a flight where the man in the emergency door row was wearing an eye patch. As I passed him, I gave him my obligatory I-might-be-counting-on-you-to-save-my-life-so-don't-drop-the-ball-and-just-think-your-seat-means-extra-leg-space look. I found myself inventing stories for him as I sat down. If anyone on my flight was an air marshall, it had to be this guy. And he was going for the "over the top" approach to throw off any potential terrorists. He looked seasoned, battle-tested, and emotionless. This guy could make Jason Bourne look like a girl scout. He probably lost his eye fighting liberating some hostages in an obscure terrorist stronghold. This is good. With my own private Rambo on board, I wouldn't have to devise my own way to save the plane (and, yes, I have actually done that -- it involves a fire extinguisher, the phone provided in the back of the middle seat, and my Bible -- don't worry. I'm watching for the bad guys).
Anyway, I'd probably be disappointed to learn this guy is a sympathy card writer for Hallmark who's wearing a patch to heal from a genetically-induced detached retina .
My scar stories are my "war tales" of life's grand adventures. Here's a sampling:
Exhibit A: A small cashew-shaped scar on my upper right hip. At five years old, I was at the park with friends as part of a day-care program. I was on the merry-go-round, hanging off the side. somehow, some vortex sucked me under, and proceed to treat me like a pebble in a blender. Amidst my screams for deliverance, I can still remember my friend Angel's chilling peals of laughter, hollering "Faster teacher, go faster!"
Exhibit B: A 1/3 inch (not that I've measured) downward-pointing triangle scar on the left side of my right pectoralis (near my sternum). At 12 years old, while swimming at a local pool, a younger boy approached me, and with an attitude that I now identify with demoniacal possession, stabbed me with his thumb nail. I bled profusely. They emptied the pool. The boy was never charged with assault.
Exhibit C: A 1 inch by 2 inch oval scar on my right top of the wrist. Also obtained at 12 years. On a day of snow-mobiling, I mounted an innertube being pulled by my dad's Arctic Cat (you have to say those words in a fast whisper to really appreciate they dynamic quality of the machine). As I was being pulled, my hand slipped under the tube, and the flap of the glove folded up. As I was being pulled on a snowy county road, the dirt, snow and gravel chewed up my wrist. At the end of the ride, I saw the wound in painless fascination, as it was frozen. A nurse friend who was there, took me in and scrubbed it with a toothbrush to clean it. Rapid thawing occured during the procedure, and commeasurate pain was revealed.
Exhibit D: On my left outer elbow, a cartoonish excamation point-shaped scar, obtained at 16 in football practice. A teammate, Benjie Berg, in between plays, in the spirit of frivolity, attempted to drive his helmet through my arm. The attempt failed. But I carry this life-long reminder of young Benjie's industrious and never-give-up attitude.
Exhibit E: A series of small unusually shaped scars on the underside of the same wrist, and also at irregular locations on various fingers and knuckles of the right hand. Obtained at 19 years old. In my life BC, at a fraternity party, I became inebriated (I'm still unclear how this occurred, since I was not of legal age at the time). Anyway, some dysfunctional logic compelled me to punch a double-paned window. Probably some essential display of the presence of testosterone in my system. Well, those crazy laws of physics held true and blood was spilled. I went to the emergency room to get cleaned up and stitched up. While there, I (very maturely) decided I was tired of waiting, so decided to go back to the house. I confidently walked out through the in door, and soon discovered I had no idea whatsoever where I was or how to get home. I had enough sense to elevate my hand above my heart, and was found about 30 minutes later wandering the streets of Denver looking at street signs with my hand raised above my head. I returned the next day, quite sober, to receive treatment, this time without a local anesthesia. The administering nurse took undue pleasure in my stupidity.
Hmmm....upon review, too many of my scars have a directly proportional relationship to an expression of a lack of common sense.
For every scar story I have, my brother has 5, and each one is better (sic) than mine. He's got scars from bullet wounds, car wrecks, motorcycle vs. barbed-wired encounters, knife wounds, man vs. St. Patrick Day Parade Float encounter (guess who won), and so on. I don't know that he's any more proud of his than I am of mine, especially when extenuating factors (re:booze) are implicated.
The truth is, I bear no 'scars of honor.' I've never been wounded for sharing the gospel. I've never lost a limb for believing in Christ. I've never been attacked for telling the truth. All my scars do is testify to my flesh.
To get spiritual for just a moment, I believe that scars will be the only man-made thing in heaven. I believe Jesus will bear His scars for eternity. Rev. 5 says that the One worthy to open the scroll looks as a lamb as though slain. Isaiah speaks graphically on the wounds sustained by the Christ. Jesus, in His resurrected form, bears the wounds of the cross on his wrists before the apostles. I DO believe Jesus will be resurrected and glorious in heaven, but I believe His scars will be the eternal reminder of the depth and breadth of His love for us. And there will be no shame in His scar stories.
disclaimer: this image is not from the exhibition. It is merely an example of a scar, for those who may be unclear on my use of medical terminology.
The artist said "Every time we look at a scar we tend to wonder how they got them. I am attracted to the idea of surrounding myself with those stories."
I agree that we tend to be fascinated with scar stories.
Not long ago I was on a flight where the man in the emergency door row was wearing an eye patch. As I passed him, I gave him my obligatory I-might-be-counting-on-you-to-save-my-life-so-don't-drop-the-ball-and-just-think-your-seat-means-extra-leg-space look. I found myself inventing stories for him as I sat down. If anyone on my flight was an air marshall, it had to be this guy. And he was going for the "over the top" approach to throw off any potential terrorists. He looked seasoned, battle-tested, and emotionless. This guy could make Jason Bourne look like a girl scout. He probably lost his eye fighting liberating some hostages in an obscure terrorist stronghold. This is good. With my own private Rambo on board, I wouldn't have to devise my own way to save the plane (and, yes, I have actually done that -- it involves a fire extinguisher, the phone provided in the back of the middle seat, and my Bible -- don't worry. I'm watching for the bad guys).
Anyway, I'd probably be disappointed to learn this guy is a sympathy card writer for Hallmark who's wearing a patch to heal from a genetically-induced detached retina .
My scar stories are my "war tales" of life's grand adventures. Here's a sampling:
Exhibit A: A small cashew-shaped scar on my upper right hip. At five years old, I was at the park with friends as part of a day-care program. I was on the merry-go-round, hanging off the side. somehow, some vortex sucked me under, and proceed to treat me like a pebble in a blender. Amidst my screams for deliverance, I can still remember my friend Angel's chilling peals of laughter, hollering "Faster teacher, go faster!"
Exhibit B: A 1/3 inch (not that I've measured) downward-pointing triangle scar on the left side of my right pectoralis (near my sternum). At 12 years old, while swimming at a local pool, a younger boy approached me, and with an attitude that I now identify with demoniacal possession, stabbed me with his thumb nail. I bled profusely. They emptied the pool. The boy was never charged with assault.
Exhibit C: A 1 inch by 2 inch oval scar on my right top of the wrist. Also obtained at 12 years. On a day of snow-mobiling, I mounted an innertube being pulled by my dad's Arctic Cat (you have to say those words in a fast whisper to really appreciate they dynamic quality of the machine). As I was being pulled, my hand slipped under the tube, and the flap of the glove folded up. As I was being pulled on a snowy county road, the dirt, snow and gravel chewed up my wrist. At the end of the ride, I saw the wound in painless fascination, as it was frozen. A nurse friend who was there, took me in and scrubbed it with a toothbrush to clean it. Rapid thawing occured during the procedure, and commeasurate pain was revealed.
Exhibit D: On my left outer elbow, a cartoonish excamation point-shaped scar, obtained at 16 in football practice. A teammate, Benjie Berg, in between plays, in the spirit of frivolity, attempted to drive his helmet through my arm. The attempt failed. But I carry this life-long reminder of young Benjie's industrious and never-give-up attitude.
Exhibit E: A series of small unusually shaped scars on the underside of the same wrist, and also at irregular locations on various fingers and knuckles of the right hand. Obtained at 19 years old. In my life BC, at a fraternity party, I became inebriated (I'm still unclear how this occurred, since I was not of legal age at the time). Anyway, some dysfunctional logic compelled me to punch a double-paned window. Probably some essential display of the presence of testosterone in my system. Well, those crazy laws of physics held true and blood was spilled. I went to the emergency room to get cleaned up and stitched up. While there, I (very maturely) decided I was tired of waiting, so decided to go back to the house. I confidently walked out through the in door, and soon discovered I had no idea whatsoever where I was or how to get home. I had enough sense to elevate my hand above my heart, and was found about 30 minutes later wandering the streets of Denver looking at street signs with my hand raised above my head. I returned the next day, quite sober, to receive treatment, this time without a local anesthesia. The administering nurse took undue pleasure in my stupidity.
Hmmm....upon review, too many of my scars have a directly proportional relationship to an expression of a lack of common sense.
For every scar story I have, my brother has 5, and each one is better (sic) than mine. He's got scars from bullet wounds, car wrecks, motorcycle vs. barbed-wired encounters, knife wounds, man vs. St. Patrick Day Parade Float encounter (guess who won), and so on. I don't know that he's any more proud of his than I am of mine, especially when extenuating factors (re:booze) are implicated.
The truth is, I bear no 'scars of honor.' I've never been wounded for sharing the gospel. I've never lost a limb for believing in Christ. I've never been attacked for telling the truth. All my scars do is testify to my flesh.
To get spiritual for just a moment, I believe that scars will be the only man-made thing in heaven. I believe Jesus will bear His scars for eternity. Rev. 5 says that the One worthy to open the scroll looks as a lamb as though slain. Isaiah speaks graphically on the wounds sustained by the Christ. Jesus, in His resurrected form, bears the wounds of the cross on his wrists before the apostles. I DO believe Jesus will be resurrected and glorious in heaven, but I believe His scars will be the eternal reminder of the depth and breadth of His love for us. And there will be no shame in His scar stories.
signs of the impending apocalypse #22
an interview with the leader of Adult Sites Against Child Pornography on the arrest of Pete Townshend, from msnbc.
highlighted statements:
from Townshend, a Clintonesque, "I have looked at child porn sites maybe three or four times in all, the front pages and previews. I have only entered once using a credit card, and I have never downloaded.”
The organization (ASACP) will soon start reviewing their members’ sites and—if no child porn is found—bestow what Irvine calls a “Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval-style certification” so visitors know there’s nothing illegal on the site. -- Good Housekeeping has got to be thrilled with this idea.
this little give-and-take: (from MSNBC) Are people who produce adult pornography misunderstood?
(Irvine): I think so, yeah. These are technology people, they’re business people, they’re your next-door neighbors, they’re married, they have kids, they pay taxes, they go to church. The point is, she's probablyright correct.
and finally, Has the child porn problem grown since of the advent of the Internet?
No, there’s always been a market for it. You have some very sick people out there. Take a look at what happened with the Catholic Church. Pedophiles are going to find this type of information.
So, in summary, according to this article:
pornographers are good, the catholic church is bad
the internet has had no effect on child pornography
Good Housekeeping is going into the online porn business
have a nice day.
highlighted statements:
from Townshend, a Clintonesque, "I have looked at child porn sites maybe three or four times in all, the front pages and previews. I have only entered once using a credit card, and I have never downloaded.”
The organization (ASACP) will soon start reviewing their members’ sites and—if no child porn is found—bestow what Irvine calls a “Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval-style certification” so visitors know there’s nothing illegal on the site. -- Good Housekeeping has got to be thrilled with this idea.
this little give-and-take: (from MSNBC) Are people who produce adult pornography misunderstood?
(Irvine): I think so, yeah. These are technology people, they’re business people, they’re your next-door neighbors, they’re married, they have kids, they pay taxes, they go to church. The point is, she's probably
and finally, Has the child porn problem grown since of the advent of the Internet?
No, there’s always been a market for it. You have some very sick people out there. Take a look at what happened with the Catholic Church. Pedophiles are going to find this type of information.
So, in summary, according to this article:
pornographers are good, the catholic church is bad
the internet has had no effect on child pornography
Good Housekeeping is going into the online porn business
have a nice day.
1/14/2003
tiles, demons, and satan oh my!
From Baptist Press:
Court allows Columbine ban on religious tiles to stand
By Staff
WASHINGTON (BP)--The U.S. Supreme Court has declined to review a lower- court ruling upholding a Columbine (Colo.) High School policy barring wall tiles with religious themes.
(cut)
School officials said they banned religious tiles because of concern they would establish a precedent, according to the Post. They feared Satanist tiles would have to be allowed if Christian ones were, the Post reported.
If the fear of Satanism is their strawman argument to keep the Christian witness out of the schools, then woe to them for such a tactic. If this excuse is their real concern (yeah, right Pollyanna!) then woe to them for being such cowards. I am sooooooo tired of the misconception that we've got some sort of epic good vs. evil, God vs. the devil battle going on here. Now, understand, I do believe in the reality of spiritual warfare, and in the reality of the fallen dominions waging war against God's creation. BUT (and this is a big but)
God wins.
did we forget that somewhere? Maybe (caution: I'm about to be provocative) if we had Satanic tiles up alongside a few Christian tiles, at least it would provide a forum for discussion on the spiritual realities of life. If Christian tiles aren't advocating Christianity, then by virtue, we Christians shouldn't be horrified to see Satanic ones. Are we afraid that this is too much for God to handle?
Stream of consciousness thought: How many Christians would be confident in their faith enough to face the Gedarene Demoniac? If we're afraid of a few teenagers who spend their time doodling pentagrams and wearing studded dog collars and black trench coats, what hope have we in facing true Satanists and the true demoniacs. Read your Bible. It wasn't some big "throw-down" that took place. The demoniac was terrified of Jesus. Begged Him for mercy. Couldn't stand to be in His presence. But today, in the spiritual reality, the opposite seems to be true.
This says more about the Christian that it does about the Christian's God.
One more thing -- the cool 'footnote' at the end of the Gedarene encounter. After the man had been free from the demons, he sat at the foot of Jesus, clothed, calm, and quiet.
And the people were very afraid.
Court allows Columbine ban on religious tiles to stand
By Staff
WASHINGTON (BP)--The U.S. Supreme Court has declined to review a lower- court ruling upholding a Columbine (Colo.) High School policy barring wall tiles with religious themes.
(cut)
School officials said they banned religious tiles because of concern they would establish a precedent, according to the Post. They feared Satanist tiles would have to be allowed if Christian ones were, the Post reported.
If the fear of Satanism is their strawman argument to keep the Christian witness out of the schools, then woe to them for such a tactic. If this excuse is their real concern (yeah, right Pollyanna!) then woe to them for being such cowards. I am sooooooo tired of the misconception that we've got some sort of epic good vs. evil, God vs. the devil battle going on here. Now, understand, I do believe in the reality of spiritual warfare, and in the reality of the fallen dominions waging war against God's creation. BUT (and this is a big but)
God wins.
did we forget that somewhere? Maybe (caution: I'm about to be provocative) if we had Satanic tiles up alongside a few Christian tiles, at least it would provide a forum for discussion on the spiritual realities of life. If Christian tiles aren't advocating Christianity, then by virtue, we Christians shouldn't be horrified to see Satanic ones. Are we afraid that this is too much for God to handle?
Stream of consciousness thought: How many Christians would be confident in their faith enough to face the Gedarene Demoniac? If we're afraid of a few teenagers who spend their time doodling pentagrams and wearing studded dog collars and black trench coats, what hope have we in facing true Satanists and the true demoniacs. Read your Bible. It wasn't some big "throw-down" that took place. The demoniac was terrified of Jesus. Begged Him for mercy. Couldn't stand to be in His presence. But today, in the spiritual reality, the opposite seems to be true.
This says more about the Christian that it does about the Christian's God.
One more thing -- the cool 'footnote' at the end of the Gedarene encounter. After the man had been free from the demons, he sat at the foot of Jesus, clothed, calm, and quiet.
And the people were very afraid.
chargin' Old Sparky for a ride on the Final Destination Express
I, unlike out-going Illinois governor George Ryan, support the death penalty.
At a Holiday Inn in Weatherford, Texas, while getting my family's continental breakfast, an elderly man said loudly, "that's my governor."
not knowing if he was bragging or confessing I offered the apolitical, "It looks like he's taking a lot of heat for what he's doing."
His wife commented, "he's just trying throw off attention from the investigation of his driver's licence scam while he was secretary of state."
oh.
At a Holiday Inn in Weatherford, Texas, while getting my family's continental breakfast, an elderly man said loudly, "that's my governor."
not knowing if he was bragging or confessing I offered the apolitical, "It looks like he's taking a lot of heat for what he's doing."
His wife commented, "he's just trying throw off attention from the investigation of his driver's licence scam while he was secretary of state."
oh.
a few observations
woke up early this morning, because we've started a new men's fellowship. We meet at the local donut shop and talk about God's Word a bit and the world we're living in, all while having some joe and breakfast. I had a breakfast burrito that was wonderful.
But, more important than my menu selection was our discussion of Acts 1. I'm just going to ramble here, and if it makes any sense, then great.
Jesus has basically affirmed His own deity -- the whole walking out of the grave thing -- yeah, that pretty much established He wasn't just a contender for the throne. Anyway, verse three says some pretty cool things --
he presented himself alive (he wasn't a spirit or a ghost -- he was resurrected in bodily form)
after his sufferings (meaning he really did suffer and die -- it wasn't some 'holy facade')
by many infallible proofs (infallible::incapable of failing; certain)
being seen by them during forty days (providing the disciples with a witness)
speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God (He taught them and fellowshipped with Him -- He chose to continue dwelling with man!)
it's upon this foundation that He gives this instruction:
"Don't go anywhere or do anything until you receive the promise of the Father, which is the Holy Spirit (BLT -- this is not a Bacon Lettuce Tomato, but instead stands for Bryan's Layman Translation).
The first thing that they were told to do was to wait on God. How often do we do that -- tell a new believer that the first, most important thing you can do is wait on God? Uh...how about never. We always say, now that you're saved, its time to get busy for Jesus. Start serving the kingdom! Discover your spiritual gifts! Give to serve, serve to give!
a couple of points:
1. Jesus ne'er did a thing until God the Father was doing it first and revealed it to Jesus. We've got to learn to join God in His work (thank you Henry Blackaby) rather than expecting God to catch up with us and bless what "we do for Him."
2. God is infinitely more concerned with our fellowship than He is with our productivity. Remember, the Bible says the only way we'll ever be productive is if He's doing it through us anyway. Productivity is a fruit of fellowship with God, not a means to that end. Think about your own children -- when you come home, you don't love them only if they've done all the chores, and are working diligently getting your home-based business off the ground (if you are the proprietor of a sweat shop, this statement may not apply to you). YOur love is (should be) unconditional, and you (should) desire time just being with them more than you want a productivity report.
but as you read on in Acts 1, you see that the apostles were just as guilty as we tend to be in preferring productivity to fellowship.
They ask is now the time and Jesus says, "Quit dwelling on that -- just be witnesses (again, BLT)
They watch in awe and wonder as Jesus ascends, and the angel says "Quit your slack-jawed ogling! (BLT)"
This lets us know a couple of truths to help us keep in line:
1. Being a witness has nothing to do about the when of Christ's return, but of the assurance of it. We have been witnesses of an infallible proof, and we are to tell everyone about it. Unfortunately, we've got too many people trying to guess when He'll show up. If we live each day as though "today is the day," we will never be lacking for passion, purpose, or perspective.
2. We are scolded for standing with our eyes fixed on heaven. These guys were criticized by the angel for only waxing nostalgic for a few moments, or minutes. We've got Christians who've been transfixed their whole believing lives. Heaven is a guarantee, and when "heaven on earth" becomes the omnipresent reality, there'll be no avoiding it. To be so "heavenly minded that we're of no earthly good," is really a subtle act of sight-based faith, which is disobedience. In this regard, we need to be the faithful workers who know not when the Master returns, but when He inevitably and assuredly does return, He finds us dutifully obedient.
So in this, I observe an inherent relationship between faith and works, two sides of the same coin that is fellowship with God. This is borne out in the disciples' conduct in verses 9-14. They returned to Jerusalem (an act of obedience, went up to the prayer room, and were in one accord in prayer and supplication)
They obeyed -- took Jesus at His word. Didn't tried to spiritualize the simple truth. Just obeyed.
They gathered -- hey, we (the church) does that really well!
in one accord -- oh, not so fast! Guess we better quit patting ourselves on the back. The church (in the beginning) prayed with only one thing in mind -- advancing the Kingdom. Not about advancing individual agendas, or fleshly motives. They were in one accord.
prayer and supplication -- a distinction is made here between the two. Prayer is the act of communion (fellowship) with God. Supplication::begging. They brought the elements of praise and thanksgiving to their worship. On the foundation of that, they were able to ask of God to advance His will. How frequently do you hear prayers of thanksgiving compared to prayers of petition. People all the time go to our "candy-store god" and ask Him for the Miracle of the day. But unfettered praise and adoration is what He deserves.
One last thing -- women, mary (Jesus' mom) and his brothers were there. Those who came to faith were welcomed and immediately involved in the most important of spiritual matters. They didn't have to go through a New Believer's class. They didn't have to sign a declaration of doctrinal allegiance. They just worshipped. And waited for the Father to fulfill His Promise.
But, more important than my menu selection was our discussion of Acts 1. I'm just going to ramble here, and if it makes any sense, then great.
Jesus has basically affirmed His own deity -- the whole walking out of the grave thing -- yeah, that pretty much established He wasn't just a contender for the throne. Anyway, verse three says some pretty cool things --
he presented himself alive (he wasn't a spirit or a ghost -- he was resurrected in bodily form)
after his sufferings (meaning he really did suffer and die -- it wasn't some 'holy facade')
by many infallible proofs (infallible::incapable of failing; certain)
being seen by them during forty days (providing the disciples with a witness)
speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God (He taught them and fellowshipped with Him -- He chose to continue dwelling with man!)
it's upon this foundation that He gives this instruction:
"Don't go anywhere or do anything until you receive the promise of the Father, which is the Holy Spirit (BLT -- this is not a Bacon Lettuce Tomato, but instead stands for Bryan's Layman Translation).
The first thing that they were told to do was to wait on God. How often do we do that -- tell a new believer that the first, most important thing you can do is wait on God? Uh...how about never. We always say, now that you're saved, its time to get busy for Jesus. Start serving the kingdom! Discover your spiritual gifts! Give to serve, serve to give!
a couple of points:
1. Jesus ne'er did a thing until God the Father was doing it first and revealed it to Jesus. We've got to learn to join God in His work (thank you Henry Blackaby) rather than expecting God to catch up with us and bless what "we do for Him."
2. God is infinitely more concerned with our fellowship than He is with our productivity. Remember, the Bible says the only way we'll ever be productive is if He's doing it through us anyway. Productivity is a fruit of fellowship with God, not a means to that end. Think about your own children -- when you come home, you don't love them only if they've done all the chores, and are working diligently getting your home-based business off the ground (if you are the proprietor of a sweat shop, this statement may not apply to you). YOur love is (should be) unconditional, and you (should) desire time just being with them more than you want a productivity report.
but as you read on in Acts 1, you see that the apostles were just as guilty as we tend to be in preferring productivity to fellowship.
They ask is now the time and Jesus says, "Quit dwelling on that -- just be witnesses (again, BLT)
They watch in awe and wonder as Jesus ascends, and the angel says "Quit your slack-jawed ogling! (BLT)"
This lets us know a couple of truths to help us keep in line:
1. Being a witness has nothing to do about the when of Christ's return, but of the assurance of it. We have been witnesses of an infallible proof, and we are to tell everyone about it. Unfortunately, we've got too many people trying to guess when He'll show up. If we live each day as though "today is the day," we will never be lacking for passion, purpose, or perspective.
2. We are scolded for standing with our eyes fixed on heaven. These guys were criticized by the angel for only waxing nostalgic for a few moments, or minutes. We've got Christians who've been transfixed their whole believing lives. Heaven is a guarantee, and when "heaven on earth" becomes the omnipresent reality, there'll be no avoiding it. To be so "heavenly minded that we're of no earthly good," is really a subtle act of sight-based faith, which is disobedience. In this regard, we need to be the faithful workers who know not when the Master returns, but when He inevitably and assuredly does return, He finds us dutifully obedient.
So in this, I observe an inherent relationship between faith and works, two sides of the same coin that is fellowship with God. This is borne out in the disciples' conduct in verses 9-14. They returned to Jerusalem (an act of obedience, went up to the prayer room, and were in one accord in prayer and supplication)
They obeyed -- took Jesus at His word. Didn't tried to spiritualize the simple truth. Just obeyed.
They gathered -- hey, we (the church) does that really well!
in one accord -- oh, not so fast! Guess we better quit patting ourselves on the back. The church (in the beginning) prayed with only one thing in mind -- advancing the Kingdom. Not about advancing individual agendas, or fleshly motives. They were in one accord.
prayer and supplication -- a distinction is made here between the two. Prayer is the act of communion (fellowship) with God. Supplication::begging. They brought the elements of praise and thanksgiving to their worship. On the foundation of that, they were able to ask of God to advance His will. How frequently do you hear prayers of thanksgiving compared to prayers of petition. People all the time go to our "candy-store god" and ask Him for the Miracle of the day. But unfettered praise and adoration is what He deserves.
One last thing -- women, mary (Jesus' mom) and his brothers were there. Those who came to faith were welcomed and immediately involved in the most important of spiritual matters. They didn't have to go through a New Believer's class. They didn't have to sign a declaration of doctrinal allegiance. They just worshipped. And waited for the Father to fulfill His Promise.
welcome to my world
the last three words one wants to hear upon sitting on the toilet:
Daddy, say cheese!
Daddy, say cheese!
proverbs #12
if you do not get everything you want, just think of all the things you do not get that you do not want.
1/13/2003
profundity
in a recent conversation with a friend, I heard these words that convicted me deeply:
we are commanded to be in the world but not of the world, but more often than not Christians are of the world while striving to be out of the world."
anecdotal evidence:
Christian t-shirts worn by pedophiles
fish symbols adorning bumpers driven by the road-enraged
wwjd bracelets worn by drugged, drunken oversexed teens
dusty Bibles on the coffee tables next to pornography
churches that won't welcome a 'known sinner' into Sunday school
the list can go on and on....
the indictment upon the church is encompassing. Oh, that we would see the lost with the eyes of Christ, and that we'd see the saved with the eyes of the lost, and may both experiences change us for the cause of the King.
we are commanded to be in the world but not of the world, but more often than not Christians are of the world while striving to be out of the world."
anecdotal evidence:
Christian t-shirts worn by pedophiles
fish symbols adorning bumpers driven by the road-enraged
wwjd bracelets worn by drugged, drunken oversexed teens
dusty Bibles on the coffee tables next to pornography
churches that won't welcome a 'known sinner' into Sunday school
the list can go on and on....
the indictment upon the church is encompassing. Oh, that we would see the lost with the eyes of Christ, and that we'd see the saved with the eyes of the lost, and may both experiences change us for the cause of the King.
signs of the impending apocalypse #21
from blogs4god via worldnet daily: Pamela Anderson is teaching Sunday school!
I enjoyed the blogs' statement that Sunday school attendance is up 600% there.
My initial reaction was concern, given that she's working with Stan Lee on developing a cartoon called Stripperella (I don't know if I've spelled that correctly, sorry.) Given my last 'apocolyptical' reference pertaining to Marvel Comics (Stan Lee's gig), I'm beginning to think Mr. Lee might not be follower of the Christ.
My secondary reaction was alarm, because Ms. Anderson discloses she has Hepatitis-C. I confess, this alarm is the result of ignorance. So, after further review, my alarm has been abated. Well, more accurately, the snooze button has been pressed, but I reserve the privelege of being alarmed again in the future.
My tertiary reaction was...humility. I guess that's the best word. God reminded me that when he saved me, I was addicted to acohol and pornography. He entrusted me as a 5th grade Sunday school teacher BEFORE both He had removed both of those addictions from my life. In fact, He used that experience to remove those addictions from my life. So, there;s not much difference between me & Pamela Anderson (aside from the breast augmentation, the Playboy photo shoots, the X-Rated home videos floating around the internet, the dating of Rock-N-Roll stars, the contraction of Hep-C, the creation of a stripper comic strip, supporting PETA, and the starring on bounce-n-jiggle syndicated television shows, ). It's almost like we're fraternal twins. The only thing was, many fewer people knew about the sin in my life.
People were praying for me, rather than scoffing me. People who knew about me and my troubles were doing that whole love-hopes-all-things-expects-all-things-keeps-no-record-of-wrong thing.
So, my conclusions:
1. I'm cynical too often when it comes to these accounts. Her messes are no more a challenge for God than were mine or yours. His grace is sufficient.
2. My mind is continually in need of renewal because my first two thoughts are fleshly, superior, and clothed in self-righteousness. Shame on me. This self-flaggelation has been sponsored by Cat-O-Nine leather whips, the best whip for doing the job.
3. I hope the pastor of her church has done an adequate job of discerning the situation.
4. I have a new prayer opportunity. I never thought I'd be telling my wife, "I've been convicted to pray for Pam Anderson." If I were her, my response would be, "sure you have."
I enjoyed the blogs' statement that Sunday school attendance is up 600% there.
My initial reaction was concern, given that she's working with Stan Lee on developing a cartoon called Stripperella (I don't know if I've spelled that correctly, sorry.) Given my last 'apocolyptical' reference pertaining to Marvel Comics (Stan Lee's gig), I'm beginning to think Mr. Lee might not be follower of the Christ.
My secondary reaction was alarm, because Ms. Anderson discloses she has Hepatitis-C. I confess, this alarm is the result of ignorance. So, after further review, my alarm has been abated. Well, more accurately, the snooze button has been pressed, but I reserve the privelege of being alarmed again in the future.
My tertiary reaction was...humility. I guess that's the best word. God reminded me that when he saved me, I was addicted to acohol and pornography. He entrusted me as a 5th grade Sunday school teacher BEFORE both He had removed both of those addictions from my life. In fact, He used that experience to remove those addictions from my life. So, there;s not much difference between me & Pamela Anderson (aside from the breast augmentation, the Playboy photo shoots, the X-Rated home videos floating around the internet, the dating of Rock-N-Roll stars, the contraction of Hep-C, the creation of a stripper comic strip, supporting PETA, and the starring on bounce-n-jiggle syndicated television shows, ). It's almost like we're fraternal twins. The only thing was, many fewer people knew about the sin in my life.
People were praying for me, rather than scoffing me. People who knew about me and my troubles were doing that whole love-hopes-all-things-expects-all-things-keeps-no-record-of-wrong thing.
So, my conclusions:
1. I'm cynical too often when it comes to these accounts. Her messes are no more a challenge for God than were mine or yours. His grace is sufficient.
2. My mind is continually in need of renewal because my first two thoughts are fleshly, superior, and clothed in self-righteousness. Shame on me. This self-flaggelation has been sponsored by Cat-O-Nine leather whips, the best whip for doing the job.
3. I hope the pastor of her church has done an adequate job of discerning the situation.
4. I have a new prayer opportunity. I never thought I'd be telling my wife, "I've been convicted to pray for Pam Anderson." If I were her, my response would be, "sure you have."
giving credit
my sister in law asked me if the proverbs I post are mine.
They are mine because I own the book from which I transmit them.
But I didn't write them.
They come from
The Cream Book, Sentence Sermons compiled by Keith L. Brooks for Moody Press in 1938.
Further attribution is not possible because it isn't given.
They are mine because I own the book from which I transmit them.
But I didn't write them.
They come from
The Cream Book, Sentence Sermons compiled by Keith L. Brooks for Moody Press in 1938.
Further attribution is not possible because it isn't given.
in my inbox
What do you call a Mexican with a rubber toe?
Roberto.
I (seriously) want to know -- is this a violation of pc standards. I confess to smiling at this joke and don't find it offensive. But I'm Irish, my name ends in a consonant, and all my toes are flesh, bone, and blood. So, I might be unqualified to make this determination.
Roberto.
I (seriously) want to know -- is this a violation of pc standards. I confess to smiling at this joke and don't find it offensive. But I'm Irish, my name ends in a consonant, and all my toes are flesh, bone, and blood. So, I might be unqualified to make this determination.
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