Hey, … Hey, you know what?

“Hey, … Hey, you know what?”  came the question.  I turned to look at my granddaughter’s face that had recently been focused on her new stuffed rabbit and the two crazy dogs threatening the rabbit’s safety.

“What?”  I asked as she looked at me.  I figured the question would have something to do with the presents she had recently opened.  This year was fun.  At three, she grasped the receiving side of Christmas and loved opening presents and enjoyed asking parents, grandparents and uncles for help unwrapping the tricky ones.

“I love you!”  Came her reply.  For a three-year-old who grasped the getting, she sure knew how to give.

With a lump in my throat, and maybe, just maybe, a small tear in the corner of my eye, I managed an “I Love you too” as a response. It was a gift without paper or bows.  Given without pretense or expectation.  A gift, given by a child, that had left a grown man speechless.

As I woke up the next day with the most precious of gifts still fresh in my mind, I found myself looking ahead to the coming year.  In front of me lay all the things that needed fixing and all the relationships that needed care.   I felt a familiar feeling.  I was overwhelmed by the responsibility of it all, and aware of the disappointment others must have felt because I have failed more than succeeded in this effort called pastoring.

And yet I am nothing if not tenacious.   As I  planned the next steps to fix everything that was broken, and with promises made of trying harder, I heard …

“Hey, … Hey, you know what?”

“What?”  I timidly asked him.  I figured the question would have something to do with the lists of tasks I had bouncing around in my head, assuming I had missed something important. So I prepared for the correction I knew I deserved all the while hoping he would be merciful.

“I love You!” Came His reply.  For the Eternal who uses the earth as his footstool, I expected something far less personal, much more task-oriented.

With a lump in my throat, and maybe, just maybe a small tear in the corner of my eye, I managed an “I love you too,” as a response.

Two gifts, neither found under a tree, were more than I could have dreamed of, and everything I needed.  A little girl and a very big God reached into the heart of a man and, in three words, melted it.  Those three words uttered by someone who was just beginning her life and another who had no beginning reminded me again that I am never defined by the successes or the failures of any job.   I am defined by those who know me and the One who made me.

If you have already mapped out next year vowing to fix all that is wrong in your corner of the world; If you have already promised the God you serve to be better

Hey,.. hey, you know what?…

Don’t Talk to Me About Tomorrow!

“I don’t have time to think about tomorrow, I’m too busy trying to survive today!”

I have thought that as a young man trying to navigate school and work.  I’ve whispered it as a parent praying that my son would fall asleep before the sun came up.  And I have screamed it as a professional trying desperately to figure out a way to keep the lights on and the customers happy.

Most of us are familiar with the phrase, “You can’t see the forest for the trees.”   It’s used to define individuals who have lost their bearing and their perspective because someone or something consumes their attention.  Though I agree with the statement, I have always wanted to ask,

“What do you do when a large part of your job, when a large part of your life, requires that you live smack dab in the middle of the trees.”

If you and I are expected to know every name, every dream, and every ailment, how do we move beyond our current reality and head toward our preferred future?  In the midst of this holiday season many wonder how to pay the bills, buy the presents, plan the Christmas dinner while navigating some interesting family dynamics all the while celebrating the birth of Jesus.  That’s a lot of trees.

Paul writes to the church at Ephesus

^“having the eyes of your hearts enlightened that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints” (Eph. 1:18)

All those “trees” demanding our attention, need not limit our future.  The Holy Spirit provides us with God’s perspective, one that is aware of the challenges of today but is not restricted by it.

Can we pray:  Lord, enlighten the eyes of our hearts

To remind us of our Calling

So we can pursue the riches of our glorious future. 

Giving Thanks

Yesterday I returned home from 20 days abroad.

I laughed when I got off the plane.  We had left the Maldives a day and a half earlier by floatplane, and 42 hours later landed in a brand new Boeing 787 in Denver, Colorado, that was covered in snow.  It was a picture that perfectly encapsulated the last 20 days.

Those days work out to:

• 1 full day in multiple airports: Tokyo, Bangkok Chiang Rai, Male.
• 3 days in airplanes, traveling to Tokyo, Bangkok, Chiang Rai, Male.
• 2 days in Bangkok with the great team from 23Church, visiting Palaces, temples, and watching Jacob eat goat.
• 7 days teaching and learning from pastors and leaders in Tachileik, Myanmar.
• 1 day in Bangkok with my amazing wife, where our #AnniversaryGraduationandNOCANCERPAARTY started.
• 6 days in Moofushi, the Maldives where our #AnniversaryGraduationandNOCANCERPAARTY came to a close.

This morning I’m waiting for the sun to come up.  It’s Thanksgiving morning, and I find myself trying to process where I have been and what I have experienced.  This was my third trip to Myanmar.  The newness of the trip wore off last year.  This year I returned because of friendships made, and lessons still to be learned. 

It was a trip of contrasts.  Below are just a few…

There was the time I walked through a night market in Bangkok with a friend trying to figure out what we were supposed to do.  An hour later, sitting at a table, waiting for Aaron to bring back some food, I felt horribly out of place.  We were two guys sticking out like sore thumbs, not speaking the language, and expecting to be treated as such.  It took three locals, who must have noticed my unease, and their sharing of their fruit (I still have no idea what it was) that challenged my assumptions and welcomed us to their city.   

While teaching in Tachileik I listened to stories of people who had spent 9 hours traveling 50 miles to be trained. With their stories and their struggles still fresh in my mind,  I found myself four days later in the Maldives on a boat hoping to accomplish a long-held dream; to swim with manta rays and whale sharks.  Overcome by the differences and consumed by guilt I wondered why I was so blessed, only to asked by the God who allowed me the privilege of being in both places,  ask,

“What makes you think they aren’t?”   

The contrasts were never more apparent than in my own tears.  The last night in Myanmar I wiped away tears as I watched children worship their God with an authenticity I have yet to learn.  Only to find similar tears welling up two nights later as I watched the sun go down in a place that exists in most people’s bucket list.   Each equally beautiful.

I could go on and on. 

No matter where I was, no matter the degree of contrast, there was also a commonality, a single thread weaved there by the hand of the Eternal.  Each place there was a gift left there by The Father,  addressed to a son who still struggles to find his worth.   It was discovered in the generosity of locals in a street market in Bangkok. It was placed in the profound love for Jesus that defines the Foursquare Church of Myanmar; and found in the creativity that is The Maldives.  God was there in his grace, his presence, and his creation, and that generosity brings this pastor from Greeley to his knees.

So this morning, with the sun now up and me shaking my head at the snow on the ground, this Thanksgiving I wanted to say thanks.

• Thanks to 23Church. You are a gift, you are my congregation!  Your prayers and your generosity allow me the privilege of travel.  No matter the church I find myself in, you are always home.  Your heart, your prayers, and your passion for the Kingdom of God make me want to be a better pastor.
• Thanks to this year’s team that went with me to Myanmar. Your sacrifice, your humility, and your heart are inspirations to me.
• Thanks to 23’s leadership. I would fail at listing you all, so I won’t try.  Thank you for leading well, for taking care of our kids, for welcoming our guests, for leading our worship, for managing our offices. Thank you for bringing God’s word.  Please know that I love and value each of you
• Thanks, Foursquare Myanmar. You have always been my brothers and sisters in Christ; You have now become friends.  My words fall short of what you have come to mean to me, but I find myself looking forward to next year.
• Thanks to my family. I know these trips stress you out, it’s not intentional.   I covet your prayers, your support, and the undeniable and comforting knowledge in knowing no matter where I am, you are always a phone call away.
• Thanks to my wife. My best friend.  The greatest of all travel companions.  There is no one I know who has more courage, more compassion, and more of a sense of adventure than you.  Here’s to the next 20!!!
• And finally, Thank You, Jesus. I was introduced to you at 17.  I have tried to live for you, often with varying degrees of success for the last 38 years.  I am still working at this Christian life, but I have discovered that no matter the degree of success or the depth of failure, you are there.  Thank you for all the gifts along the way.

Did he really want me to read that?

To the congregation of 23.

Sunday I stood before you and asked that you read Ecclesiastes sometime during the next week. My wife came home after listening to it in the car and informed me how depressing it was.  Then I received a text from one of our leaders and he said the same thing.  So it begs the question,

 

I have always been intrigued by Solomon.  I have been intrigued by what God offered to him and how he responded (2 Chron. 1:7) and fascinated by God’s generosity (2 Chron. 1:12).  Yet what captured my attention was the perspective the book of Ecclesiastes provides.  It was written toward the end of Solomon’s reign as King of Israel.  It offers a unique view of a man who had it all.  Yet instead of finding happiness and contentment he discovered the complete opposite; this world and everything it offers when experienced outside of the context of a relationship with God has no substance.

While it might seem depressing, it is actually freeing and refreshing.

Freeing because Ecclesiastes is like sitting with someone who had already traveled the road you find yourself on and tells you where it leads.  Solomon had become so deeply immersed in the ways of the world he had become disconnected with God (1 Kings 11:1-10).  His use the Hebrew word “hevel” (translated meaningless) refers to a vapor or a wisp of something. His experiences convinced him that life lived apart from God was like a vapor, a wisp; there was not a lot to it. This frees us from having to find that out the hard way.  Ecclesiastes is refreshing because of its honesty.  It paints an accurate picture of a man who has been there and done that and gives us a glimpse of life without God. It asks the same question many of us still do, “Is this all there is?”

The book ends with the “Fear God and keep his commandments” (Eccles. 12:13).  This is where wisdom is found. It is there that a relationship is with God is sustained and life finds its meaning.

So hang in there.  I will see you Sunday.

Pastor Dave

My Story

Monday morning, I ran into an old business partner.  I hadn’t seen him in for a while.  We had worked together for over ten years.  Every morning we sat down over cheap coffee and talked about the company and what it might one day provide for us and our families.  We shared stories about kids and wives.  We told each other of our parents and of dreams and fears.  In those seven years we talked about almost everything except our faith.  Or more accurately I never talked about my faith.  I have often wondered why.  We must have had an understanding of sorts.  He didn’t believe in much of anything and I was going to respect that.  Besides we were professionals and we were at work.  There wasn’t room for discussions about faith or about the role Jesus could play in our personal and professional lives.

I realized it remains one of my biggest regrets.

I have often wondered what I would have done differently.   My position had made me cautious and I was always worried about crossing a professional boundary or feeling that sharing my faith was some sort of impropriety.  I also have to admit I wasn’t sure what would have been effective.  I knew a simplistic formula would have been dismissed.

How should I have shared my faith in such an arena?   I have come to realize I was overthinking the whole thing.  It wasn’t about discovering a certain strategy, it was about telling a story, my story.
  Stories are powerful.  They paint mental pictures and appeal to our emotion and intuition.  Most importantly they can foster belief.  Jesus knew this.  He was the consummate story teller.  He told crowds of lost sons and forgiving fathers (Luke 15).  He spoke of unjust judges (Luke 18) and the kindness of strangers (Luke 10:25-42).  His stories communicated truth in ways that people might understand.

Our stories do not need to be as humorous as Twain’s, or be able to challenge society as did Harper Lee’s, they just need to be ours. Our personal and transparent narratives are powerful.  Truthful stories, clothed in the reality of our own struggles and God’s faithfulness communicate the hope we want our friends to know about.

Monday’s meeting hurt.   I found out he was struggling with some personal things and he wasn’t sure what his future held.  It hurt because I saw the man I once was, someone who didn’t need platitudes but was desperate to know that in the midst of brokenness and hopelessness, healing and restoration could be found through faith.

Monday I met with a friend who needed to hear my story.

Who needs to hear your story?

SHUT UP LEGS

During the week-long Bike Tour of Colorado I was reminded of the beauty and the lessons that are learned by just riding.

The first,  Be a Part of a Community.

A 100 mile Day.

Riding alone into a headwind is a bit like a never-ending mountain to climb. With no reprieve, it quickly becomes disheartening. Riding into the same headwind with a group of cyclists working together will make a discouraging ride much more enjoyable. We live in a world that celebrates our individuality. We take pride in going it alone and proclaiming to all who are within the range of our voice, “I don’t need anyone.” Joining a community is not about losing oneself.   It is about using your strengths to support others and allowing your weaknesses to be supported

Second, Eat.

About every 30-45 minutes on most rides a gel is consumed or chomps are eaten and water is drank. Though the water is lukewarm and the gels taste like… well gels, a body under stress requires nourishment. Not eating is like running out of gas, you spit and sputter along until you stop moving. Our soul is similar to our physical bodies. Take the time each day to feed your soul.

Jesus said,  I am the bread that gives life.Whoever comes to me will never be hungry,and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.  (John 6:35)

Cottonwood Pass

Third, Lift up your head.

I ride with a friend who jokes that his view is limited to the three-foot window in front of his wheel. We live life a lot like that. We become so intent on getting through the day that our focus is limited to what is directly in front of us. Lifting your head up doesn’t change the effort required to get through the day, but it adds a reprieve to the effort. A sunrise, a mountain vista, an unexpected waterfall a quick conversation allows you forget about your legs.

Finally, Tell your legs to SHUT-UP.

I wear a Road ID that along with my emergency contact information has the quote “shut up legs” (Jens Voight). Anyone who has ever physically suffered on a bike has either screamed or whispered those words. To push through suffering in a risk-averse society seems counter-intuitive.   Yet if we never tell our legs to “shut up” we end up quitting too quickly, running from things that frighten us and rarely will we try anything new.  The Apostle Paul writes, we were “created in Christ Jesus for Good works” (Eph. 2:10).  Paul does not of easy works, just good works.

The next time life becomes difficult tell your legs to shut up! There is a top to every mountain.

Lessons on Waiting.

I was recently at Denver International Airport (DIA) staring at the departure board. My flight was delayed and I found myself annoyed. I had plans and the airlines should have known.  Even if the delays were weather related.  My wife and I were getting away for the weekend. The plan was to fly into San Francisco, head to Fisherman’s Warf for a late breakfast then on to Sonoma.   We were going to enjoy the wineries along the Russian River and Napa Valley then head west to take in the beauty of the Northern California coast.

Instead I was waiting and I hate waiting.

I hate lines. I hate holding for customer service. I hate the 2.5 minutes it takes to get my special order coffee. My needs have to be met in a timely orderly fashion, or I get perturbed. Patience is not one of my strong suits.

The bible is riddled with people who suffered from the same trait.  Abraham and Sarah’s brilliant plan (Gen. 16:1-2), Esau’s hunger (Nu 20:9-11), Israel’s grumbling (Num. 21:4), Moses anger (Nu 20:9-11), and Saul offering (1Sa 13:6-12) were born out of impatience. Each had the amazing ability to take things into their own hands and make a mess out of their lives.  They all hated waiting…. Yet their impatience created the difficulties that could have been avoided if they would have taken a breath and realized it was God’s plan long before theirs.  It is a good thing God doesn’t emulate us.

Peter writes

God is patient with us, not wanting anyone to perish

(2 Pet 3:9).

I love that. He waits for my attention, he whispers until I hear. He waits while I am being conformed into the image of His Son. But I am not sure what to do with Paul’s words that tell us one of the fruits of the Spirit is patience (Gal. 5:22).  I grumble about coffee orders, and when my super sized meal is not waiting for me by the time I arrive at the window to pay for it. And don’t even get me started about the prayers that do not receive an immediate response.

I am learning though. Learning to stop, to breathe before I react, and to grant the same grace I cherish to those who are just trying to do their job. And I am learning to trust God for prayers not yet answered, knowing He is more than adequate to take care of my life.

By the way the plane did arrive and we did make it to San Francisco. Breakfast on Fisherman’s Warf turned into lunch and by the time we drove the 60 miles to Sonoma, the flight that was such an inconvenience 8 hours earlier was forgotten.

Go figure.

While They’re Sleeping.

As a young Dad I had a love/hate relationship when my kids slept. The house became quieter, but the lack of noise was always a concern.  When they were  awake silence screamed trouble. I knew some sinister scheme was being hatched to take over the world or at least the house and I needed to distract them before they could figure out how to arm the bomb.  When they were sleeping the quiet was amazing …… up to a point. More often then not I would make my way to their rooms making sure they were OK. Surely they couldn’t be that quiet for that long. So I would stand in the doorway and watch for some movement, sometimes quietly making my way to the side of the crib or the bed to watch them sleep.

My boys had no idea of the hundreds of times I checked on them over the course of their childhood.   Their lack of awareness did not negate the truth that I was watching. Their inability to acknowledge my presence did not stop me from being there. My relationship, not their response, dictated my actions.

I was reminded of those times while talking to a friend this week. He had gone through a tough stretch of life and felt God had abandoned him. He couldn’t sense God’s presence, hear His voice or feel His touch. He was positive he was alone. AS we talked I began to remember moments in my life when I felt abandoned. When life and all its challenges piled on, when it seemed like the heavens were silent. And then God reminded me of whom He was in my life.

Paul writes that as followers of Christ the Lord God is our Dad (Rom. 8:15).

The Psalmist states

The Lord will protect you from all dangers; he will guard your life. 

The Lord will guard you as you come and go  both now and forever.   (Ps. 121:7-8)

Those truths are not contingent on my ability to acknowledge his presence or see his hand on my life. They are contingent on the immutability of God’s character. There are those who find themselves struggling, convinced they are alone. I cannot argue against your perception, but I can remind you of the truths inherent in scripture. Truths that give us hope and offer us security, even in the dark. God is and will always be

      A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows…

      [He] sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing; 

(Ps. 68:5)

Where is the Soup??

Six plus years ago I registered for the Florida Ironman. Signing up for the race was easy, but once the forms were filled and the money paid I began to wonder what possessed me to attempt such an idiotic thing.   I did not know if I could swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 and then run a marathon. So I sought advice from people who had raced that distance before. We talked about nutrition, training, equipment, the inevitable suffering, and the secret of a successful race….. wait for it….lukewarm chicken soup. Honestly it isn’t even soup, it is just broth.

WHAT?

This isn’t me. I would have been walking.

Yes you heard right, the secret to completing the 140.6 mile race is a Dixie cup full of instant chicken broth. I argued with that bit of advice, thinking he was trying to set me up for something. Shaking his head at my naiveté, he said when the sun starts to fall you will be in the middle of your run, look for the chicken broth.  I survived the swim and enjoyed the bike. I changed my shoes and began running, and then jogging, which looked like shuffling that finally disintegrated into walking. With 13 miles left and no idea how to finish I heard the voice of God. It turned out to be a friendly volunteer that yelled, “Chicken broth at the end of the table.” Desperate for anything, I past the water and the Gatorade grabbed a Dixie cup of instant soup and drank it.

I still smile at how amazing a cup of lukewarm broth tastes after moving 126 miles. Physiologically the cup helped replenish my body’s depleted sodium level. But emotionally it redefined the rest of the run. My race went from being worried about the 13 miles left, to the space between cups. I had to go two miles to be rewarded with another cup of that amazing soup. After running to six more cups the race was done.

I remembered the soup this morning as I prayed for this church, and how it will impact this community. I think about the systems that are needed and the growth that will come and the responsibilities and opportunities and yes the work that is required.

 God reminded me to not forget  about the soup.

The Author of the book of Hebrews writes “let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (12:1.

As Christ followers we all have a race set before us. Signing up for it is pretty simple. Running with perseverance … well that seems to be a mix of excitement and wariness, privilege and denial, confidence and worry, and yes work. For those of us running, somewhere this week or this month, we will wearily look around and wonder where the finish line is. At that moment find the chicken soup. It’s there I promise.

The Psalmist writes

The instructions of the Lord are perfect, reviving the soul.

The decrees of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple.

The commandments of the Lord are right, bringing joy to the heart.

The commands of the Lord are clear, giving insight for living.  (19:7-8)

His word replenishes what life depletes. It might not be showy, and for those not running, it seems a little too simplistic, but I promise in the middle of the race when the light is falling and you still have miles to go, nothing tastes sweeter.

Making Room ( RoseAnne Sather)

I’m entering the fifth day of the fast, successful. Although last night I dreamt that I had a gargantuan bowl of ice cream – it was only a dream people!

I admit coming into this fast I had hopes of filling my journal with pages and pages of insight and revelation… But until today it’s remained empty apart from one Scripture Isaiah 43:19.

For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.

What I have felt is an emptying of sorts, a cleansing; first of my physical body releasing and flushing toxins. But there has been an internal emptying as well, a cleansing. Much like the clearing out of a closet. Discarding the unnecessary, the excess, the superfluous; making room. Not a dumping or throwing out but a thing of creating space. And it’s not useless, or worthless space that exclaims there is nothing in here. But rather a vacancy sign has been turned on that flashes: I have capacity – fill me! Yes, that’s it! With this emptying comes an anticipation of filling the space with something new. Making room for something new means pushing aside the things that are unnecessary, prioritizing, creating space: space to be FILLED! This emptying is accompanied by an exciting expectation of what’s to come.