Bring Your Hoe

Notice there's an "e" on the end of that word. I'm talking about the garden implement, not . . . never mind.

I was talking with a friend today, a man who has been at Wild at Heart Boot Camp a couple of times. We were talking about how Satan deceives us, and how we miss the glory that God sees in us.

At the Boot Camp, they show that scene from Braveheart where William Wallace is riding back and forth in front of the assembled Scotsmen, inspiring them to stand and do battle with Edward the Longshanks' soldiers. It is an amazing, stirring scene, one that makes us want to stand up and shout, "Freeeeedom!"

The Boot Camp instructor for that session, a man who has been involved in Wild at Heart for years, confessed something to them that day. He said that when he sees that scene, it's hard for him to put himself in the picture as one of the brave warriors at the front of the line. He sees himself not as a William Wallace with his greatsword, or as one of his companions with a battle axe or a mace. Instead, he sees himself as "that little scrawny guy in the third row carrying a hoe."

That was evidence to him that we really don't see the glory God has in mind for us. We don't see how we reflect God's glory, how we are allies with God, warriors in the battle against Satan. We're not the big, brawny soldiers, but the little shrimpy guys, poorly armed, untrained, inadequate.

I'm going to have to take exception with that. Not with the fact that we don't see God's glory in ourselves clearly. That's pretty evident for most of us. We need others to show us how that glory is reflected in us. It's one of the reason we need true friends, brothers and sisters who can come alongside us and show us what we really are.

No, what I take exception with is that the little guy with the hoe was somehow less glorious than Wallace and his companions. Far from it. That little, scrawny guy was there.

He willingly chose to come to the battle. He willingly chose to stay and fight. He didn't have armor, or a shield, or even a real weapon. He wasn't big and strong. He wasn't well-trained. Yet he chose to expose himself to the deadly shower of arrows the English launched toward him. He stood his ground when the heavy cavalry charged, shaking the very ground. He even chose to taunt the overwhelmingly superior English by mooning them.

Talk about glory! That guy waded into a maelstrom of battle, swinging his hoe. He was a man's man, full to the brim with bravery and boldness.

We are in a battle. Not all of us can be Braveheart. In fact, few of us can be. Not all of us even have a proper weapon. But we can all bring our hoes, rakes, and pitchforks to the battle. We can all stand between the enemy and our families. We can all fight alongside the greatest hero the world will ever know. We are allies with Jesus in the battle against Satan.

Bring your hoe, brothers.

A Man After God's Own Heart?

In 2 Samuel 11 and 12 is one of the most amazing stories of the Bible. David, the king of Israel, a man after God’s own heart, the little boy who had enough faith to take on Goliath, commits adultery and murder. He takes Bathsheba, probably against her will (who can resist the king?), and after finding out she’s pregnant, tries to get her husband Uriah to sleep with her so the baby can be passed off as his. When that doesn’t work, he orders Joab to set Uriah up so he’ll be killed in the battle.

Now, what is amazing is not that David committed these terrible sins. What is amazing is that God forgave him. Not only did God forgive him, but David is held up in scripture as one of the heroes of the faith. And to add to the strangeness, God continued David’s line on the throne by making Solomon, the son of Bathsheba, king after David.

Now, that is scandalous to the nth degree. Look at what he did! He committed adultery (maybe rape), and murder! He tried to sweep it all under the rug. Does God not care about sin?

Hardly. There were terrible consequences for David and for those around him because of his sin. The son of his union with Bathsheba died. David’s concubines were taken by Absalom, who had sex with them in a tent on the palace roof so everyone would know what was going on. Absalom took the entire kingdom during his rebellion, and many, many people died.

Oh, God cares about sin. He hates our sin. It’s something he cannot help. Sin is simply the opposite of God’s nature.

But he loves us more than he hates our sin. Because he loves us, he does not keep us from sinning, like robots. He permits us to either choose him, or to choose sin. At this point in his life, David chose sin. But look at what he wrote after that:

Psalm 51
For the director of music. A psalm of David. When the prophet Nathan came to him after David had committed adultery with Bathsheba.

Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
blot out my transgressions.

Wash away all my iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin.

For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.

Against you, you only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you are proved right when you speak
and justified when you judge.

There’s a lot more, and it would be a good passage for all of us to memorize. But I really want you to consider the note at the top, where it begins "For the director of music." David published and distributed this Psalm. He went public with his sin. He confessed it freely, and then he wrote a Psalm about his sin and sent it to the director of music to be performed.

Don’t hold back. Don’t let shame keep you from proclaiming the grace and freedom you have received. We, too, can be men and women after God’s own heart. In spite of our sin.

My Sister's Keeper

This has been a summer of great movies for me. I’m not a big movie-goer. It’s not that I don’t like movies. I do. But I resent the amount of money it takes to see a film, and don’t even get me started on the price of a soft drink and popcorn.

As an aside, have you noticed that movie popcorn is yellow? Even the unbuttered kind is yellow. When I pop popcorn at home, it’s white. But movie popcorn is popped and seasoned with so much yellow food coloring it looks like it ought to be banana flavored.

Anyway, let’s leave the snack bar and return to the theater. I usually get around to seeing the flicks I want to see when they’re at the Dollar Theater, or when they’re out on DVD. This summer there were several I really wanted to see right away: the new Star Trek flick, Pixar's Up, and the newest Harry Potter film. Two down, one to go. Then there was My Sister’s Keeper. The previews I saw intrigued me, as they did my wife and daughter. So when we decided to drop 50 bucks (that’s at matinee prices) on a movie and popcorn, we chose My Sister’s Keeper.

I had not read the novel by Jodi Picoult, so I didn’t have to worry about unhappy comparisons with the book.

In this age of in-vitro fertilization, embryonic stem-cell research, and promised miracle cures, no thinking adult should miss this movie. This is not a movie that makes you cheer, as Star Trek was. It’s not a movie that leaves you with good warm feelings, as Up did, although there are plenty of warm moments in My Sister’s Keeper. This is a movie to see, to think about, to feel. It will raise questions for you that you probably haven’t considered. For example, what are the rights of a child to her own blood, bone marrow, even her kidneys? When is it time to say, “Enough” to what extreme medical measures can do for a sick person? This movie will not only tug on your heartstrings, it will yank them so hard you’ll check for a hole in your chest. Especially if you are a father with a daughter, it will reduce you to tears of sadness and of joy. I speak from experience here.

I will print no spoilers. There is no need. Young Amanda Breslin and Sofia Vassilieva give superb performances as Anna and Kate. There really aren’t any bad performances here. I especially liked Joan Cusack as judge De Salvo. But there are two things I missed in this movie. The first is Jesse’s story. I suspect a lot of his story was left on the editing room floor. It seems vague and incomplete.

The biggest thing I missed, though, was God. There was a little talk of “where you go” after death, and a vague understanding of “I’ll be okay,” but that was all there was of the afterlife. There was virtually no mention of faith of any kind, and none of the comfort or understanding, or even the struggle that faith brings. I’m not talking about the soft, mushy, Precious Moments faith that is the background of a lot of vaguely Christian films, nor the obvious evangelizing of films like last year’s independent surprise, Fireproof. Nothing against Fireproof. It was a good film that hit its mark very well. But that wasn’t what My Sister’s Keeper was about. This film was a perfect opportunity to show how faith bears on the biggest questions of our existence, questions about sickness, suffering, death, and duty. Now, I suppose it is too much to hope that Hollywood would have dealt with these things well, but I can dream, can’t I?

Go see My Sister’s Keeper. It will make you think, it will make you feel, and you won’t regret it.

Eyeglasses

I've been thinking about eyeglasses lately. The other day I was listening to Matthew on my iPod. (Don't you just hate those cutesy product names with a lowercase letter before an uppercase one?) At any rate, I was listening to Matthew, and came to the place in Matthew 20 where Jesus heals two blind men. And I began to wonder if they were totally blind, or if they just had such bad vision that we would call them "legally blind". There are lots of folks in the world who have some vision, but cannot see well enough to work. And this was in an age before there were eyeglasses, so even with a fair level of vision, they would still be called blind, I think.

Now, before you go thinking the wrong thing, I have no doubt that Jesus could heal someone who was totally blind. No doubt at all. In one healing, Jesus not only heals a man's eyes, but he heals his brain as well. Check it out. In Mark 8, Jesus "spits on the man's eyes and put his hands on him," then asks if he can see. (It's interesting that he had to ask, don't you think?) The man says, "I see people. They look like trees walking around." Then Jesus laid his hands on him again and he could see everything clearly. This seems to me to indicate that Jesus healed his eyes, but his brain at first could not interpret what his eyes were seeing. I don't know the name of the condition that causes this, but it's not all that uncommon.

Still, the fact that Jesus could heal someone who was totally blind doesn't mean it happened that way in every instance.

And that thought led me to be very, very thankful. You see, I'm one of those people who can't see well without some sort of corrective lenses. I believe the technical term is "four-eyes". If I was living in an earlier time, say, the Middle Ages, or the time of Christ, I would be very much restricted in what I could do, how I could work, how I could live.

I'm a recreational shooter, and I'm not bad, really. (Not all that good, either, but you get the idea.) Without eyeglasses, I wouldn't be just bad, I'd be dangerous. Nobody would volunteer to go to the skeet field with me. In a more primitive era I wouldn't be one of the guys who shoots a bow well enough to stay out of the line of battle. I probably wouldn't be in the line of battle, either, as I might have a hard time telling friend from foe. I wouldn't be able to see the mountains in the distance, or the ship coming over the horizon, or the sheep that was starting to wander toward a cliff. Maybe, just maybe I could make my living in a profession that didn't require great vision, as a potter for instance. But more likely I'd be the guy who was told to go dig a ditch, or carry rocks, or shovel manure. There is nothing wrong or belittling in any of those professions. It's just that my choices would be limited, as would my appreciation of such things as a mountain vista or the shape of clouds in the sky.

Yes, I'm very, very grateful that I was born in a time and place with not only eyeglasses, but antibiotics, computers, universal education, motorcycles, and air conditioning. We are all very blessed. I've heard it said that we are in many ways richer than Solomon ever was, because he never had the opportunity to ride in an airplane, or eat ice cream, or listen to a symphony.

But consider this . . .

Solomon did live without all those things. As did David, and Job, and Elijah, and Moses, and Jesus. They seemed to do all right without them. We have some great things, to be sure, wondrous things. But in the final analysis they are just things. No amount of things can make your children grow wise, or your spouse love you, or your favorite dog live forever.

But God can. And God loved those blind men no less than he love you and me. He loves us all, yet the blessings he grants us are not all the same. We all have different measures of wealth, health, and happiness. So the essence of God's love, his richest, truest blessings cannot consist of those things.

Still . . . I'm happy for eyeglasses. And so are the folks who shoot with me.

The Impact of Two Lives

This past Friday, we were privileged to witness the marriage of my eldest son and his new wife. It was a beautiful, joyous occasion to witness the union of two great young people. It is so clear that they love each other and love God. What more can a father ask?

And yet . . . I received much more.

I was able to witness how many good friends they have, and what great friends they are. As parents, we have always prayed that our children would have good friends who would help point them toward God and walk beside them in truth and light. That prayer was answered in spades. Many of these young men and women I already knew, of course, since they were my son's friends growing up. Some were his bride's friends, and I have only recently begun to know them. But all of them show a quality, a grace, and a beauty that is obvious. How blessed we are that our son and new daughter have such people alongside them.

I was able to see the love that my son and his wife give to others. Everyone I met had great things to say about them, and it was easy to see that they were genuine, not just the vague things you say about folks when you're trying to be polite. At the rehearsal dinner, we had a microphone set up for folks to say a few words about the couple. It was clear that even in their short lives, they have both had a profound effect on people. Their love for children was evident, as was their love for God. That was a huge blessing to me.

I was able to hear my new daughter's thoughts on the man she wanted to marry, and how my son filled all those desires. What impressed me most was the fact that she was looking for a beautiful soul who shared her love for children, and her desire to minister together. That was marvelous.

I was also able to hear my son speak of five men who had shaped his life. I was in that list, and that alone is enough to fill my heart with joy. But the others who were in that list, two of his youth leaders and the fathers of his two best friends, were an even greater indication of the way he has been blessed. It's expected that a father have a good influence on his children. In my own small way, I've done that. But the other good men who have influenced him are icing on the cake. I commend those men, and thank them for their love for my son. I pray that their children can say the same thing about me.

It is great to have a new daughter in our family, especially one this sweet, kind, and joyful. But it may be an even greater blessing to have my son grow into the man that he is. They do grow up. They go away as children and come back, hopefully, as friends.

May you all be so blessed.

Mordecai and Obama

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not a fan of President Obama. I didn't vote for him, and won't when he runs in four years unless he changes his politics drastically. That much change would be less like the proverbial frog turning into a prince, and more like the frog turning into an interstellar spaceship, so it's not likely.

Okay. You get the point. Still, as a disciple of Jesus and a believer in the scriptures, I'm obligated to obey the laws of our land, even when I don't agree with them. Further, I'm obligated to pray for Obama and for all our leaders.

This has posed a problem for me. Obama stands for many things I oppose, and stands against many of the things I support. (This applies to many others in government, but let's just confine this to one official for now.) Some of the things he stands for are just plain wrong, and some—not to mince words—are evil.

But I am not freed of my duty of praying for him, showing him respect, and even doing good toward him. I've struggled with this, and I've been able to pray for him, but it hasn't been a terribly pleasant duty, and it has been hard to put my heart into.

The last thing I want to do is to mouth insincere prayers.

Lately, though, I've received some help in this from what some might call an unlikely source: from Summer Spectacular, our church's version of Vacation Bible School.

Now, when I say "Vacation Bible School", many of you have an image of a group of sweaty kids singing If You're Happy and You Know It and Kum Bah Ya or watching a teacher with a gray bun putting Noah's ark up on a flannelgraph. And you couldn't be further from the reality of Summer Spectacular. We go absolutely all out for Summer Spectacular. It's a full musical performed over three nights (actually performed twice over six nights), with classes for all the kids and the adults, autographs from the characters, prizes, games—the works. It really is as spectacular as the name says.

This year, we put on the story of Esther. For those of you unfamiliar with Esther, it's the story of a young Jewish girl who is selected to be the new queen of Xerxes, the ruler of the Medo-Persian empire. The Jews have been in captivity for many years, and their original captors, the Babylonians, have been supplanted by the Medo-Persians.

In the story, Mordecai, Esther's cousin, saves the king from a plot against his life. This is the same king who keeps the Jews from returning to their homeland, who gets rid of his first queen because she won't appear before him and his nobles at a drunken party, and who has an entire harem of young, beautiful girls, most of whom he sleeps with once and then sends away. He's also the king who later issues an edict to kill all of the Jews in the empire and allowing those who kill them to take all their property.

Let's just say Xerxes is not the world's nicest guy. Let's go a little further and say he makes Obama (or any President I've ever known) look like a saint. And really, you wouldn't expect the king of a great, expanding empire to be a nice guy. It's unlikely he got to such a position by kissing babies and making speeches. Far more likely that his ascent was a bloody one. And yet Mordecai not only saves his life, but honors him as king and ruler.

Now, I've known this story for a long time. But seeing it played out brought it home to me in a new way. A big part of the story is that Mordecai does not give honor where honor is not due. He refuses to bow before Haman, who comes up with the idea of killing all the Jews. But he does honor Xerxes. And the Bible is full of other stories that bring this home in the same way. Joseph honored Pharaoh, even though he was enslaved and imprisoned falsely. Daniel honored the king in the same way that Moredecai did, even though he was sent to the lion's den for refusing to stop his prayers.

Suddenly, it's not so hard to pray for Obama. Now, unlike Mordecai, we live in a representative republic. We get to participate in the political process and even vote. As I understand it, we have a duty to do so. So I'll continue to work for the things I think are right and against those I think are wrong. And I'll cast my votes for those whom I think are best suited to govern. But no matter who wins or loses, I'll continue to pray protection, wisdom, peace and strength for our leaders.

There is a lot more to the story of Esther. It's a great story of courage and deliverance. I found myself cheering for both Mordecai and Esther. But I'll always remember Summer Spectacular for what Mordecai taught me about honoring rulers. Even those I oppose.

Father's Day Thoughts

Becoming a father was the most life-changing thing that ever occurred to me. I say this even though I probably should be saying that my salvation was the most life-changing thing. But I'd have to lie to do that. You see, God has taught me so much through my children, and I firmly believe that only through my children have I come to understand who God is and what his love means. I can't credit my children with saving me, but they helped point me in the right direction.

Becoming a father changes absolutely everything. Much of this may sound a bit mystical to some folks, but it is a true and necessary mysticism. From the first moment I held my firstborn, I knew that a change had come over me. The full nature of that change didn't come to me right away. But change was obvious. I was a bit of a reluctant father. Shan and I told each other we would wait five years after our marriage before having children. It seemed the best choice considering how young we married (I was just 19). Even when that five-year deadline came to pass, I was still unsure about becoming a parent. Shan was the one who brought the subject back up. I agreed, but it was more for her than for me.

At only four weeks into the pregnancy, we got a scare. Our doctor (Shan's obstetrician as well as our GP) scheduled a sonogram, as he was concerned it might be a tubal pregnancy. Thankfully, the sonogram revealed a normal pregnancy, and at four weeks we could see a heartbeat on the monitor. We still have a black-and-white Polaroid picture of that little bump that was our son Brian. I knew then by the fear in my heart that I was a father, and a different man. We went through all the pregnancy rituals; childbirth classes, talking to the baby, acquiring the myriad of stuff that babies require.

But when I held that perfect little person, felt the warmth of his skin, and the beating of his heart, and the movement of his little arms and legs, I was lost forever. Such a wave of love came over me as I had never felt. In that one moment, I knew just a bit of how God loves us. I knew I would gladly trade my life for my son's. It was stronger, in a way, than the love I felt for Shan. It was instant, and total, and completely involuntary.

I felt that same thing with my other children, first Duncan, then Rachel. Instant love, instant responsibility, instant willingness to take on the world to defend that little life.

My kids aren't so little anymore. My youngest is 16. But I still have that same willingness to sacrifice anything, even life, for them.

And it is a sacrifice to be a father or mother. For our children we give up time, money, attention, sometimes even our dreams. Having a child changes your life totally. And I wouldn't go back for anything. In spite of the problems, in spite of the mess, the expense, and the time, I wouldn't trade any of the time with my children. Just the opposite. I wish I had spent more time doing the little things with them—reading a book, playing a game, listening to them talk, just sitting with them. There never seems to be enough time. But I take satisfaction in knowing that my time with them is not over. No, they aren't little kids anymore. Now they are becoming more like friends. That's good, too.

There are lots of folks who will not willingly make the sacrifice that children require. There are lots more who start to do so and fail to keep their commitments down the road. Neither of those alternatives has any appeal to me. My greatest joys, my greatest triumphs have come to me through fatherhood. Also my darkest times and greatest failures. And I'd never want it to be any other way.

Happy belated Father's Day to all the fathers. And to my children: thank you for making me the man that I am.