sitting at the internet cafe about 70 feet from the ocean. it's sunset, as it can only be in hawaii. nate is in school. i spent the day by the pool, snorkeling, shopping for a ukelele for ben (with pickups). sweet day.

now i have to go to the restaurant on the water, eat fresh seafood and then a walk on the water. man this sucks...

suffering for jesus.

watching the blues brothers with my son ben tonight. it's new to him, all too familiar to me. not many people watch the finale and cry.

a while ago we used to do a yearly musical revue. every year the blues brothers would show up to close. we would practice five months - two months just on the dance routines. a few minutes in the sun... as elwood.

i miss it.

may not be blogging much this week - forced to take my son to college in kona hawaii and stay there with him to make sure he's ok..

...suffering for jesus...

one of my favorite bible stories is about the heal-grabber, jacob. i like him because jacob was basically a bum. his life was fraught with inconsistencies and failed attempts to get ahead, usually with dire consequences. jacob was a normal guy.

nothing seemed to be working out for jake. his brother was in command of an angry army, bent on exacting justice. jacob was convinced that his future looked bleak.

one night he had a visitor, an angel we are told, who had some things to work out with jacob. and so they fought... all night. and much to the angels surprise jacob was an adversary to be reckoned with. the bible tells us that after a night of wrestling the angel was ready to book, but jacob would not let him go without a blessing. he petitioned his sparring partner for some sort of a reward for the hours of travail. so the angel touched his hip and injured jacob. a sign to remember the time jacob wrestled with god... and prevailed. and thereafter jacob walked with a limp and a new attitude, a new perspective on life.

many of us walk with a limp. we've been fighting battles and trying to get ahead and have been left with emotional, even physical scars. we are a mess of failed attempts and broken dreams, but still we prevail.

and that's ok.

i walk with a limp. gone is some of the haughtiness of youth, some of the idealistic dreams and limitless energy that i used to have. i no longer have all the answers, nor am i convinced much anymore that my ideas are the only ones that work. i limp a bit. the glean of endless victories has been replaced with a bit of realism. it sucks.

maybe that's what it is like to mature. i'm not exactly an authority of maturity but it seems that the world is no longer as black and white as it used to be. opportunities are not endless and failure is definitely an option. but that's ok too. with the lowering of testosterone and expectations has come a certain level of secondary contentment. i'm not as hard on myself as i used to be - not as slick or profound or dogmatic either.

maybe i'm growing up.

take aim...

A television presenter on a new Dutch talk show plans to take heroin and other illegal drugs on air in a program intended to reach young audiences on topics that touch their lives.
link

link here

"Rats are very similar to humans except that they're are not stupid enough to purchase lottery tickets."
-Dave Barry

a long time ago i heard the story of a shepherd. one of his sheep would wander from time to time, placing it in danger of predators. after some time of this the shepherd realized something had to be done or the sheep would be killed so he found the sheep that day and took it home... and gently broke it's leg.

the sheep was tramatized, and through it's bleating the shepherd gently held it, then over the course of days and weeks nursed it back to wholeness. he would spend time holding the sheep, caressing it, nurturing their relationship. one day the sheep was able to walk again but never again wandered.

many of us are like that sheep. god is the shepherd. and from time to time some of us need our legs swept from under us. and he is there to remind us of his love and bring us back. and we walk with a bit of a limp.

it's a hard lesson.

i love you jordon

how many of us, if you were to lay a microscope over our past, would be unfit for service? i am not proud of so many things in the past, but we are unable to change them. they help to form who we are today.

last year a pastor phoned some of the people i know demanding any dirt they could dig up on my life in the past decade and beyond. somehow he thought that if it could be made known that i had ever had indiscretions in my life that this would reason to negate my present worth. it's a trap. i have had hundreds of people come to me in my life and admit all manner of heinous sins. should i then expose those people to public scrutiny because i know that they have had a wandering road. if so, then who among us can claim that we are worthy.

i have used cocaine. meth. marijuana. cigarettes. alcohol. pornography. i have lied and stolen, exaggerated and been an unfaithful friend. i am guilty of thousands of things. anything you may know about my past, i know more. you could make a list as well. we are all unworthy. we are all imperfect.

i have a good friend named dalton. i haven't seen him in years now but love him dearly. when we were in college together he would make fun of the seemingly endless stream of people who, at a religious event, would try to outdo each other with their lists of past foibles. many would try to sound more pious by recounting their "testimony", often embellishing it for effect. dalton would sarcastically tell his story, though fictitious. he would go on by saying, "ya i used to be pretty bad. i ran in a gang, stole, then once i murdered a man. i killed children... etc. then at the tender age of three i gave my heart to jesus." it would crack me up.

there is a false piety in wanting to impress others with how bad we have been. there is also a life deadening way that we tend to be hard on each other - how we cannot forgive, cannot forget, the messes that were made many years ago. we cannot seem to go on. it is easier to make ourselves feel better by pointing to the weaknesses in others.

i don't give a crap that some cabinet minister used drugs ten years ago. the question is, what is he doing today? has he learned from his past, grown in his walk, matured?

i love the little ditty i have made a part of my life and used on many occasions. i stole it from someone too. it goes simply like this, "i am not where i want to be but thank god i am not where i was."

link

His greatest legacy was to "show the world what a single man can accomplish", said Hier. "He did it all alone - nobody helped him at first."

more here.

David, a 2-year old with leukemia, was taken by his mother, Deborah, to Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, to see Dr. John Truman who specializes in treating children with cancer and various blood diseases. Dr. Truman's prognosis was devastating: "He has a 50-50 chance." The countless clinic visits, the blood tests, the intravenous drugs, the fear and pain--the mother's ordeal can be almost as bad as the child's because she must stand by, unable to bear the pain herself. David never cried in the waiting room, and although his friends in the clinic had to hurt him and stick needles in him, he hustled in ahead of his mother with a smile, sure of the welcome he always got. When he was three, David had to have a spinal tap--a painful procedure at any age. It was explained to him that, because he was sick, Dr. Truman had to do something to make him better. "If it hurts, remember it's because he loves you," Deborah said. The procedure was horrendous. It took three nurses to hold David still, while he yelled and sobbed and struggled. When it was almost over, the tiny boy, soaked in sweat and tears, looked up at the doctor and gasped, "Thank you, Dr. Tooman, for my hurting."

spurgeon tells a story about visiting a farmer.

he is walking with the farmer and sees on top of his barn a weather vane which has inscribed on it, "god is love". he wonders to himself, then asks, is that to symbolize that love is as changing as the weather.

the man slowly turns to him and says, no. he inscribed this weather vane such because no matter what way the wind blows, god is still love.

no matter how bad it gets.
no matter how lost you feel.
no matter how alone you are.
no matter what way the wind blows...
god is there.

you walk in the door and they see your aura, your spirit, and they know...
they meet you at church and tell you that god has told them to tell you something, 'just for you'.
they stand up in church with a new word from god.

some must be real, but some is scary.
there seems to be a resurgence of those who claim they are prophets these days. they have been told, or have decided, that they have a special ministry. they know that god tells them things that others do not know. they just know.

from time to time i am approached by a prophet. i have been told of those who have such a special gift i just have to see them. i have had someone thrust a note in my face, a word from god, telling me i am this or that or any number of things. it seems to be happening more and more.

i believe that there have been prophets. i also believe in false prophets. those who you are not allowed to argue with, who with arrogant demeanor assume that everything that comes out of their mouth, every dream they have, every nudge they feel, must be divine. they are proud people - hyperspiritual gurus who feel they have a special pipeline to the almighty. to disgree with them is to disagree with god himself. if you do not ascent to their platitudes they tell you, and others, that you have a hard heart, a hidden sin or a demonic influence.

they are dangerous people.

here.

one of the teens who came back from our aids orphange in thailand spoke of a little girl who would not let go of her pant leg as they were leaving. the child was suffering from an advanced form of aids. as the team said their goodbyes they reminded each other that they would be coming back. the little girl spoke through an interpretor to our teen and said, 'but what if i'm not here next year... then i guess i'll see you in heaven.'

nuff said.

was up on a friends roof banging in new shingles talking about our prostates...

The Faithful Progressive has a great timeline of Hurricane Katrina, what the Feds knew and how slowly they responded.
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Disturbing article in Slate about how race played a part in relief efforts.
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Being poor.
via

Authentic community is more crazy than cozy, more porcupine than teddy bear. It’s weird and odd and ragged.

Dick Cheney has gone missing.

I have noticed that there is a tendancy to lose touch with people ( when it's a choice ) because of the nature of the transition, not the people. I believe that's a mistake.

warning: this is politically incorrect.

already the rush of festivities, if one may use that term, are gearing up to remember september 11, 2001. like most of us, i can remember well where i was that morning. a good friend and i had flown down to LA on september 10, for some time of reflection and beach. little did we realize the change that morning would bring to our schedule, let alone the world as we knew it.

this weekend millions of people will spend some time reflecting on that event. hardly anyone will spend any time thinking about the 80,000+ iraqi casualties that are connected forever (though many of us struggle to see the connection) to that event.

some years ago i stood at a memorial to another watershed event in history - pearl harbour. as i meandered through the exhibit i was struck but the incredibly idealistic rewriting of history, as presented by the tour guide. the largely american audience was regaled with sentimental drival concerning the loss of human life. though i can appreciate the sacrifice made on that day, though i mourn the loss of any human life, many of us do not see pearl harbour as a senseless loss.

pearl harbour saved millions of lives. that some 1400+ people died in this tragedy is a horrible thing. compared, however, to the sacrifice made by thousands of other americans, by millions and millions of europeans, canadians and russians, this loss is minimal. already the americans were years late in entering the war. though their president had done what he felt he could to help the war effort in a political hotbed, the continued reluctance of the american politicians to declare war cost countless lives.

pearl harbour afforded the americans the excuse to enter the war; ultimately helping to turn the tide, shorten the conflict, and ensure that we all do not speak german. it can be argued that had the americans not entered the war that germany, if they could resolve the russian issue, would have easily destroyed the american military once he had the resources in place.

it diminishes the sacrifice of those who gave their lives at pearl harbour by declaring what happened to be merely an unfortunate tragedy. their sacrifice saved the lives of many lives, albeit european and asian lives.

which brings me full circle back to the events surrounding 9/11. like all civilized people i believe that what happened on that day was more than tragic. that innocent civilians could be sacrificed to the fortunes of political conflict is inexcusable. i wonder, however, how choked up we would be had those been merely iraqi or somalian or rwandian lives... if they had not been predominately middle-class, white, north american lives. some hundreds of people die in a flood in the states and it is seen as an international tragedy. thousands die in the same way in a mid-eastern country and it barely makes the news. thousands of innocent iraqis die because of american foreign policy and you have to search the net to find out the casualty lists. imagine the outcry, just try to imagine it, if 80 or 100,000 americans or canadians died by foreign political will.

this weekend, as i reflect on the horror of 9/11 i intend to take a moment or two to pray for those expendable iraqi citizens who daily face the horror of loss of life and unimaginable violence.
for those who suffer by the millions in african countries where there is no oil to liberate.

i was talking with old friends a couple of days ago about our journey. it inspired me to look back at my own journey. it was more than a little revealing. i started to scan old blogs and was disturbed but where i had been but thankful i was not still there.

when i started blogging it was obvious i had issues. not that i don't have any now but they are different, if not less obvious. i was intense, often witty, but it was immediately apparent that this was a hurting person. someone who could barely contain grief and rage. the blogs reflected this with a vengeance. there were candid attempts to go beyond the situations in my life but i, more than the reader, could see behind the words and hear the angst. i'm glad those days are over.

surprisingly there has been some subtle opposition to this metamorphosis. a few people seemed to like the fact that i was needy, pathetic. it awakened in some their maternal or paternal instincts. people love to help out the weak. and i was ten pounds of weak in a five pound sack.

this year has been one of transition and conflict in my life. there have been few care free days. but somehow i feel different about life. i was recently asked if i could go back a year ago, when i had stability and position, would i. definitely i would not. regardless of the outside issues, inside i feel some measure of wholeness and relief from what was, i am sad to say, unbearable.

i have lost some friends but found my heart. and the people still in my life have proven time and again they love me no matter what. that is a profound understanding to accept for one's life.

The call to worship in new and experiential ways and the need for missional thinking. To break loose from a building and have a body of believers that can be 'church' in any home, chat room, bar, shelter or park.
read more here.

i love my mitre saw.