Father’s Day Came

Ever since I was 10 years old I have loved Father’s Day.

My daddy died when I was two and when I was almost 10 I got a new dad when my mom remarried. I called him “Royce” at first, but it slowly morphed into “Dad”. Father’s Day no longer meant longingly watching other kids doing nice things for their “pop”.

When I got married a few days before “Father’s Day” it was my dad who was standing beside me as my best man. As I got older Father’s Day always meant a long call to dad who was always waiting near the phone.

Of course “Father’s Day” became infinitely more treasured when I became one myself. To hear the words “Papa” on the lips of my little blondie was one of life’s sweetest thrills. Her first cards to me were masterpieces meant for parental art museums.

So it may come as surprise that this Father’s Day will be met with sorrow mingled with smiles. You see, Father’s Day Came on May 13 this year. It was the day God came to get my Father. After I had sat prayerfully at his side for a couple of days and nights, the damage from an aneurysm of the aorta, finished his physical life. It was Father’s Day to step over, to go home, to transition into his Father’s presence.

We think of death as some dark thief strangling the air out of us as we fight to keep breathing. In some ways that’s true of death. But death is also a joyful messenger, announcing that our appointment with our King has come and the feast prepared in our honor is about to begin. Death is our day…our glorious day…our day to slip away from the chains of our physical existence and be free to be the immortal, perfected self we were created to be.

So this Father’s Day, I will thank my God, that my Father’s Day has finally, although much to soon to my liking, come!

ICU, Do You?

Dad is fighting for his life…and if he lives he may lose his leg and his other foot. I sit here fighting sleep, exhaustion, and confusion.

ICU is not for the faint of heart. I have often visited but I have never spent the night sleeplessly listening for every chirp of the machines that monitor my father’s battle.

Often I arise from my seat to pray, touch a shoulder, call a nurse, or simply shake off weariness.

30 hours ago Dad had a aneurysm of the aorta and almost died. Two major surgeries later, he is hanging on. Plague keeps breaking loose and blocking veins. Any errant piece could lodge in the wrong place and take him home to Jesus.

Me…I spent a mostly sleepless night Saturday as I waited to hear results of the surgery, then I preached two Mother’s day services and dedicated 9 babies. As I gave the altar call at 12:22pm I raced to LAX to catch my 1:30pm departing plane. Amazingly I made it.

After an evening with family here at St. Joseph’s hospital in Tacoma, WA., everyone went home and I started my long watch through the night.

So here I sit…calling out to you Lord. It just hit me…ICU…Intensive Care Unit but it can also mean…ICU…I SEE YOU. Lord, I believe you do…it feels lonely but I believe your eyes upon me…Your loving gaze is upon me…I am the apple of your eye…your thoughts are toward…I am engraved on your palm…my hairs are being counted hourly…you know my thoughts…you know when I stand up and when I sit down and when I nod off.

Lord you are my hope, my strength, my God…even when I am simply clinging to you in weary prayers of wordless ramblings…you know my heart and you embrace me. “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, mount up on wings like eagles, run and not be weary, walk and not faint…So shall it be.

ICU too, Lord!

Halfway People

I don't want to live half-way! I can't stand the thought of mediocrity when greatness beckons. Comfortable is always the enemy of courage. Risk is the road to results that rock! Here is a well-worn but not told often enough story:

There is a magnificent one day hike in the Alps. If you start early in the morning you can reach the summit and get back to the car before dark.

About half way up the mountain is this incredibly beautiful rest house where everyone eats a great lunch. The owner of the rest house has noticed an interesting pattern over the years. When everyone reaches the rest house they are all excited about reaching their goal of the summit.
They warm themselves by the fire and about half way through lunch somebody inevitably speaks out what many people are thinking. "I think I will just stay here while you finish the climb and you can pick me up on the way back down."

At that moment everyone must the make decision to stay or go.

For all those who stay the first few hours are incredible. They sit by the fire and tell mountain climbing stories about other great mountain climbers from the past. They may even reminisce about some of their great climbing experiences in the past.

By early afternoon the mood dramatically changes in the room and everyone becomes silent. One by one they make their way over to this huge window in the back of the lodge and they stand there and stare at the summit.

For you see it is at this painful moment that they realize they have settled for second best in their lives.

Someone has well said, “The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it.”

Snow and Sand

As I sit here in British Columbia looking out our window as the snow falls on ski slopes that are calling my name...I am reminded that in a few hours I will be boarding a plane to return to Long Beach, CA...where I will look out our window and watch as the waves fall upon the sand in 75 degree weather. The best of both worlds.

I have to ask the question...Am I spoiled or blessed? I know God alone has put me in such a wonderful situation in life. A series of miracles have allowed me to enjoy such privileges that I never imagined. My own ingenuity or power have not created such earthly enjoyment.

Yes I have made financial decisions that have been wise instead of stupid...but I have made enough dumb ones that I could have sabotaged the good ones. So God gave us these blessings, and God has safeguarded these blessings. I believe the PRIMARY reason I am blessed, is to be a blessing....

So I believe that the question of is SPOILED or BLESSED depends on how I leverage these blessings for the blessing of OTHERS and the BUILDING of the KINGDOM OF GOD.

If I consume these blessings primarily for my own benefit...these blessings will in the end be curses...but if I invest these blessings for the Kingdom...these blessings will bless me now and forever. I will ONLY keep what I GIVE and SHARE with others.

So I will enjoy without guilt what God gives but I will stay keenly aware of the priority to GIVE away what I have been given. So LET IT SNOW!

How Much of a Man Am I?

I like quiche.

I am emotional.

I like romantic comedies.

I can’t build anything.

I can’t even change my own oil.

I get lost easily and my wife gives directions.

I like candles, dark chocolates, and like roses on my desk.

I listen to love songs on the KOST sometimes.

I love to make Rice Krispy treats.

I cry easily.

I love giving and getting hugs.

I like making babies laugh.

I get scared when I hear strange noises in the night.

I have never tasted beer.

I don’t like being home alone.

I don’t like facial hair.

I like writing poetry.

I don’t like confrontation.

I have never punched anyone.

I drive a 8 year old Sebring Convertible.

I rent but don’t own my house.

I gave my wife a power drill for Christmas, she gave me a Kenny G CD.

I call my mommy every week.

How much of a man am I?

WAIT....!!!

I had a college football scholarship.

I have ridden in rodeos.

I have run marathons.

I have motorcrossed.

I have climbed Mt. Rainer with crampons and ice axes.

I have skydived.

I have been places where no white person has ever gone.

I made out with 3 different girls on one New Years Eve, my Sr. year.

I snow ski and can do double black diamonds.

I water ski and have my own ski boat.

I have traveled with armed guards on dangerous mission trips.

I have stood in front of hundreds of hecklers to confront them.

I own a home on a ski slope in a foreign country.

I lift weights every week.

I have slept on the dirt in the middle of jungles.

I also drive a Grand Cherokee Jeep.

I married the Homecoming Queen of my college.

I have a doctorate,

I have written a book.

I like Action Movies…Mission Impossible and Die Hard

I have swam with the largest sharks in the world.

How much of a man am I?

The truth is I have not really told you one thing about my true masculinity.

What I have done is spew off a bunch of cultural stereotypes about what a real man is or is not.

Real Masculinity is determined by being a man of godly character courageously living the mission God created me for! I HOPE I am living like a REAL MAN!

Lifting Heavy

When I was a teen, I prided myself in being big, strong, and athletic. Lifting heavy objects was actually exhilarating for me. I would bend over, get a good grip, and then muscle the load to my shoulder and walk off. My dad, however, would always bark at me… “Bend at the knees, use your legs, bend at the knees.” In my youthful pride, I poo-pooed such advice as being the paranoid warnings of an old man who couldn’t cut the muster.

40 years later, I bark at my daughter, “Bend at the knees, Lindsey, be smart and bend at the knees.” When I have to lift a heavy object, it’s with reluctance and with carefully positioning of my body mechanics by bending at the knees. Bending at the knees and lifting with your legs instead of the back is the “power position”…you lift more and you keep yourself from injury.

Likewise, in life and in ministry, I have learned that when I am faced with task of lifting heavy burdens the only solution is to “bend at the knees”. If I try and muscle the challenge up on my own power, I am certainly going to hurt myself. However, if I “bend at the knees” posturing myself in prayer, I am in the “power position”, to receive what God is longing to give to me.

Friday, I am going to give up a whole night’s sleep to pray at the church. It’s called a Watch Night Prayer Time. I need it. There are some heavy objects in front of me and the church…and the most powerful means to face them in is “bending at the knees”.

Missional or Miserable!

Missional is the buzzword of the frontline church folks these days. I love the word because I love the world. The church is not an in-doors activity, you do it outdoors…outside of the weekly in-doors gatherings. Outside the doors is where the world is and consequently where the church must live.

Sure it’s a great thing to come inside for lemonade and cookies and especially for a hearty dinner, but as in my childhood, after a meal, it’s right back outside to experience life. On rainy days you played inside because you needed a safe place to stay dry. On sick days you played quietly in-doors because you needed a safe place to heal. But life happened outdoors where the imaginations of childhood were vividly recreated in forms of Robin Hood, GI Joe, Lone Ranger, and Superman.

The world is not waiting inside the church, the world is waiting outside our doors. So we gather in order to be filled up so we can be poured out. We gather to dream and imagine, so we can depart reenergized to build what could be. We were created for mission…it beats in our heart, and resounds in our imaginations.

My most miserable days were when I had a babysitter who wouldn’t let me outdoors. It was sunny and I was feeling fine and there were “Maid Marians” to be rescued, but thanks to an insecure babysitter I had to stay in-doors and she had to entertain me.

That’s like many pastors I know…they are insecure about letting the church outdoors to set captives free… “what if they end up getting involved with worldly people and aren’t as available to do church stuff?” With the church in-doors pastors must become entertainers instead of equippers. Every week…a better program, a softer chair, a new fad, or “egads”, the church might not stay in-doors as much.

My mom was an equipper…she would put my boots on me, my play chaps, my sheriff’s badge, my Mattel six shooter, and say no go outside and have fun. Boy would have I fun because I was living out my identity, my destiny, my dreams, and my mission.

The church is kind of miserable because it is not very missional. As for me? “Open the door, let me out! I am miserable unless I am missional!"

The Prayer\Miracle Deal

Miracles. Two bona fide, here’s the pictures, doctor-head shaking, read-em and rejoice, MIRACLES!

My sister’s oncologist just announced that she was cancer-free. After having been diagnosed just five months ago with an aggressive cancer that had already spread past the breast to lymph nodes and elsewhere, NOW she is cancer free. 107 of our women had set themselves to pray 107 days for Brenda’s healing and before they got half way through she was healed. She received the news Friday, two days before her birthday. What a gift!

Two and a half years ago, my wife, Deb was diagnosed with a cancer so clear, so rare, and so lethal that the doctors sent her biopsy tissue to the National Cancer Research center. People around the world began to pray. 12 days after diagnosis she was pronounced cancer free! The doctors shook their heads.

This privilege, this partnership, this power called prayer is mysterious but miraculous.
It’s not a wand that we wave that works the way we want it to each time.
It’s a relational conversation that works best when we pray together as friends.
Far from the showmanship hype of money hungry miracle workers, there is a quiet authority that the people of God can band together to exercise against the dark powers of the enemy.

Regardless of the manifest results, there is always a very real response from God that releases His presence into the problem being prayed for.
Of course we rejoice most when it’s a miracle that happens the way we are hoping for.
Nevertheless, prayer releases the provision of God, therefore, let’s take our position and pray!

My New Year Start

The sun rose above the Cascade mountains filling the attic room with glorious light.
It was the final sunrise of 2007. My sister’s 3 story, 100 year old farm house is positioned in a way to catch those rays as if grasping them to hold them forever.

After a brisk mountain hike with Deb and Lindsey, we journeyed to one of our favorite places – Pike Place Market in downtown Seattle. After a stroll through the market we watched from the park overlooking Puget Sound as the sun sat over the Olympic mountains and on 2007.

A dinner at Cutter’s, which features great fish and an awesome view of Rainier, the Sound, and downtown Seattle, was followed by a movie. We decided to go for the gusto and see the New Year in at Gasworks Park on Lake Union overlooking downtown Seattle and especially the Space Needle. A fantastic firework display from the Space Needle brought in the New Year. Lindsey met up with some friends at Gasworks and Deb and I kissed our way into 2008.

The first day of 2008 I went to Mass at the tiny country church next to Mark and Brenda’s house. I walked down to an 8:30am Mass and listened, prayed, sang, and worshiped my way into the first morning of 2008. The message reminded me to seek God as my Savior, to ponder my resolutions as Mary treasured the secret things in her heart, and to move towards Christ as the shepherds ran towards him on that first Christmas. It was a stirring start to a new year.

After a visit with parents, Brenda and Mark, and then to Dwight and Shelley’s. We had a great brunch prepared by Shelley. Justin came by before we had to depart for the airport. Lindsey and I jumped on a plane to fly back home.

Romance, Worship, Friendship, Family, Prayer, Goal Setting...a great way to start a great new year!

Christmas Correction

Sunday is my favorite day, even though it is my battlefront day. Sunday I have to fight the enemy on emotional and spiritual levels. Sunday is usually a 15 hour day for me. It is exhausting but exhilarating. In the midst of frequent disappointments, many mini-crisis, people problems, and sermon bloopers, there are those glimpses of God, of the kingdom breaking through, of the miracles of God occurring in our midst.

My Sabbath is Monday. It’s a different kind of battlefront. I have to battle not obsessing over the lower than hoped for quality of my sermon, the people who were absent, the problems that arose Sunday that will have to be fixed in this coming week, and the tiredness of body, soul, and spirit.

So it’s nice when things go well on Monday, but when they don’t, it’s tough because my reserves are so low. This Monday life was not fun. What should have taken an hour, took six hours, and cost me big bucks.

I had just had the boat mechanic working on our 1995 20’ Wellcraft Open Bow Boat. I went to fill the boat up at the fuel dock. It was running so smooth on the way over. After spending $4.00 a gallon on 40 gallons of boat gas, I was ready to have a relaxing cruise.

I pulled away from the dock and the boat died. I was floating helplessly in the water as I tried for 30 minutes to get it started. I began rowing the long distance to the nearest boat dock. When I was half way there, the Lifeguard boat came and pulled me to the dock.

I tried calling my boat mechanic with no luck. What was I going to do? Meanwhile the precious hours of my Monday were disappearing faster than the money in my wallet. I thought to myself, “Nice Christmas gift!”

The boat dock was deserted and so I just sat there trying to get the boat started or reach me mechanic. The call of nature arrived and I made the short walk to the restroom at the marina. In a somewhat obscured area on the side of the bathroom I saw a refrigerator box. There was a man carefully adjusting the box just right…I realized that he was preparing his cardboard “home” for a long winter’s nap. It looked as if he was happily anticipating his time of rest.

When I came out of the restroom he had pulled the box top closed. Beside the top was a huge black plastic bag, that could have doubled for Santa’s sack of toys if it wasn’t so dirty and lumpy. His entire home was in one cardboard box and one plastic bag.

There I stood in my tiredness, frustration, pity party grousing at the injustice of Larry’s world…and all the time I had a beautiful ocean view home with a festively decorated Christmas tree, and sparkling Christmas lights on my house, and a mailbox full of cards from friends and family, and a sweet stereo filling our house with Christmas music.

A chuckle started at my toes and kept rising until it escaped softly out of my mouth. Life is all a matter of perspective. Your expectations determine your contentment. He who is content with little has a continual feast. My grumpiness seemed so self-centered and trivial standing there near the "refrigerator box man" that I had to laugh at myself.

The best Christmas is found in unwrapping what I already have and enjoying that with a childlike wonder...fresh and new and grateful. That was my Christmas correction.

Christmas Dawn

It’s 6:20AM. Our new home has a commanding vista of the Long Beach bay. My study is on the second floor.

One of my favorite things is to arise in the cold, darkness of night, and then watch as the slivers of red, pink, and purple begin to slowly pierce the canvas of black.

The water catches the luminescent paint of my Master the Artist and magnifies the majestic display into a breathtaking masterpiece of light.

The advance of the colorful light is unstoppable. The darkness has no power to restrain the conquest of light. Creation begins to laugh again. The great light has dawned and triumphed once again. Each sunrise is a replay of Christmas morning.

My Master, the Poet, writes of this victory in Matthew 4:16…“the people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.”

Einstein said that he was able to develop the theory of relativity because of the constancy, the reliability of the one factor: the speed of light.

Each morning my life is recalibrated to the reliability of light. My darkness is defeated by light. No matter how long the night, nor how strong the inky blackness, Christ arises again to spread his colorful light display across the canvas of my life.

The prophet Malachi sings to me of the dawn. Malachi 4:2 “But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. And you will go out and leap like calves released from the stall.”

Each dawn brings His healing to me. The fresh sunrise of his love begins to warm the frozen corners of my heart. The faithful mercy of his love as demonstrated in the dawn empower me to release hurts and cover offenses with grace.

Each fresh sunrise should make me feel like a young calf who has been kept in the small confines of a stall during the night. With the sunrise the farmer opens the gate and the calf, with his youthful exuberance and fresh excitement at the coming day, leaps from the stall to kick up his heels in the grass.

The real Christmas is the sunrise of human history and of my daily story.

Catching My Sister

When I was born, Brenda was already 4. She had a head start on the looks, the brains, the personality, and the talent. I thought to myself, "no problem...I will catch her by the time I am 8!" Nope! I am 50 and she's 54 and I am now 8 years behind in all categories.

And when it comes to understanding and living the Christian journey with depth, poise, passion and beauty...well it seems I am a couple of decades back. Of course I always was the ornery one who exasperated my sister's futile attempts to civilize me.

All of these realities only made the injustice of her diagnosis of cancer seem that much more inconceivable. Yet the last four months have done everything they could to convince me of the reality of the enemy invader.

The losses have mounted...her teaching position, her hair, her energy, her feelings in toes and fingers, her color in fingernails, her appetite. Yet in the midst of the losses...she has only advanced. Her faith, wisdom, compassion for others, sensitivity to God, courage, and passion for life have marched forward.

I mentally conjectured that at least now I would be the better looking of the siblings but even without hair, she's ahead. (pun intended) So as tough as it is for a younger brother to admit...my sister is quite a lady...one whom I pay homage to. (But I am still glad I stuck gum in her hair during choir practice in 3rd grade!)

Today or Nothing

I heard a preacher once say, "There's no such thing as a Christian life, there is only a Christian Day".

While his statement was hyperbolic, his point resonated with the reality I live in...we don't have yesterday, nor tomorrow, we only have today. I live in the now or I don't really live at all.

It's important that I chose to follow Christ when I was 8 years old, but so much more essential is, "Do I choose to follow Christ today?"

Jesus said, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. (Luke 9:23).
I become a Christian for today...I choose to follow Him today...I choose the way of Jesus for today.

While it is wise to reflect on the past to learn, and while it is essential to plan for the future to reach goals, my quality of life resides in how I live today.

When my pastor friend, Rick, was dying from Leukemia, he said his greatest lesson was learning to "stay in the day". He knew God's power was enough to get him through the day. He celebrated to the finish line.

I want to take today with its joys and challenges and LIVE it, celebrate it, drink deeply of it, grow in it, love with it, dance with it!

Today is the present that God has given me to unwrap and I will do it with gusto and glory!

A 50 Year Old Kid

She was about 70 years older than me and she was proud to tell me her age! A slight little African American Great Grandma, she looked like she would blow away if a good gust came up. Her toothless smile looked like it was trying to grab both ears at the same time. But what she said stuck with me like a piece of bubble gum on your shoe on a hot day.

She said, "Age is all about mind over matter. If you don't mind, it don't matter." Then she cackled, not a witch's hollow cackle, but a cackle of such delight and genuine merriment that the flowers nearby seemed to start dancing.

50 is around the corner in just a few more steps. But it's not like some character flaw to be dreaded then lied about. 50 isn't a contagious disease, it's the green flag for the next lap of life!

50 is as old or as young I want it to be! 50 can trap me in such seriousness and stiffness that you might as well start measuring the coffin. OR I can choose new dance steps for a new decade.

I can choose to SOMERSAULT my way into 50 and just keep rolling with a childlike cackle that surprises the stuffier old men my age.

50 SOMERSAULTS...I did 50 in a row today and I felt like I was at recess in the third grade again! My MIND said, "You're still just a KID...my BODY said, "Hey old man you haven't done one of those in five years!"

Tonight I am still smiling but also thinking I need a little more practice in "mind over matter".

P.S. If you haven't checked out the main page...larrywalkemeyer.com...we just put some new material on. Exciting news!

The Great Sculptor

Pastor Greg was at the table next to ours at the World Impact Banquet in downtown Los Angeles on Saturday. His church, Malibu Presbyterian had pledged $500,000 to the Teen Center in Watts. Pastor Greg, who is a earnest follower of Jesus, gave the benediction.

7 hours later his church building burnt to the ground in the Malibu fire. God, is that fair?

I have found that God's idea of "good" and of "fair" is not bound to the "present", to the "short term", to the "small picture", or even limited to "earth time". His reasoning of "good" is "future", "long-term", "big picture", and "eternity". Until we see from that perspective, we must be careful about passing judgment on God.

Now that is hard...because I don't live in the "future", I live in the "now", I hurt on "earth-time". But it does help to know God is at work to build something better.

Pastor Greg said, "It's not the church, it's only a building. We believe beauty will come from ashes." They were fully insured and now they can start to rebuild in ways that are even more conducive to God's work in Malibu.

I was near the Mount St. Helen's eruption in 1980...the ash was like snow banks. But not long afterwards, artists began taking that ash and creating beautiful sculptures from it.

This is my calling...I am an assistant to the master "ash sculptor"...I am to help Him take ashes in people's lives and sculpt them into something beautiful. Jesus has done and is doing that for me. How about you?

Living Large!

A 50 mile bike ride as I seek to LIVE LARGE!

(one of my 50 by 50 adventures) (see previous blog to check progress)

In the Middle of the Night

Let me see you in the middle of the night,
When the dark is long,
When the questions far exceed answers,
When the tossing of my body, reflects the churning of my mind.

Let me see you in the middle of the night,
When my efforts seem so great and my accomplishments seem so small,
When my thoughts bounce like a pin ball that makes noise but scores no points,
When my silent prayers seem as merely a pointless conversation with myself.

Let me see you in the middle of the night,

When the distance ahead is matched only by the distance to return

And I am trapped between reaching for more or being content with less.

Let me see you in the middle of the night,
When I must view you by faith alone.

Let me see you so I may be stilled by you,
And so I may help others see you in the middle of their night.

For you alone are my rest in the middle of the night.
- larryjoewalkemeyer 10 18 07

Dirty Feet & Divine Moments

For 16.5 years I have arrived at church service with freshly showered feet. For 16.5 years I have never had my feet washed during service. But not this Sunday.

The Long Beach Marathon runs in front of our house. From our garage you can take the alley to the street and go north to the church. But from our driveway...it's almost impossible to go north because all the side streets are barricaded. So early Sunday morning...with NO wallet, money, phone, or SHOES...I jumped in our daughter's car to move it behind the house to the alley so she could get to church to teach the youth. Bad decision.

They wouldn't let me back to my house...all side streets were barricaded. I drove for an hour trying to find a route back to my house. Meanwhile the clock was ticking before service was to start. Finally I gave up. I scrounged through Lindsey's car...found one dollar bill...and walked barefoot across the parking lot to a grocery store to get change for a pay phone.

It's been 5 years since I used a payphone....but I called Deb and said..."bring my clothes to my office"...I drove to the church office...walked barefoot through the parking lot... finally 7 minutes before service was to start she showed up...I shaved and changed clothes and ran to service...with dirty feet. Our Leadership Council did an amazing job of running the entire service as an act of love for staff appreciation day. At the end of service...they washed our feet and mine were really dirty! It was a divine moment.

16 years NEVER NEEDING my feet washed. 16 years NEVER HAVING my feet washed at church. But God brought it all together...now is that ODD or is that GOD?

Hard to Be Served

Peter thought Jesus had lost his mind. Jesus - the miracle worker, amazing prophet, and soon to be King everything - was doing the work of the lowest slave...washing the grime and grossness off the feet of his friends. Peter says, "You ain't doing me, Jesus...I am not about to let you."

Jesus' reply was world-stopping! "If I don't, you won't have any part of my life". Peter would go on to become one of the greatest servants for Jesus ever. But first he had to learn that Christianity is about being served. Jesus came to serve Peter.

It's "hard to be served". You don't become the "hero" by being served. Instead it humbles you. You have to be humbled to let someone love you, bless you, serve you, even die for you before you can enter into real Christianity.

This Sunday, I will sit through service and watch our Leadership Council serve me and the staff. I will have my feet washed instead of being the one that washes feet. It will be hard for me, but also good for me. (But I am getting a pedicure today!)

Sitting Tight When the Seat's Too Tight

In the last two months I have been approached about pastoring two very large churches - prestigious offers of upwardly mobile ministry positions. But after discussion with Jesus and with Deb (in that order) I have chosen to stay put...to sit tight leading a church with only 39 parking spots.

I am not making very good career choices...but I pray I am making great kingdom choices.
It's uncomfortable to my flesh...the seat feels too tight...but in a kingdom where you are called to lose your life in order to find it...to lay down your life for the poor...I believe that, at least for now, its a kingdom call that carries with it reward found following no other path. Jesus, please shape my seat to the seat you have me in!