Light Switch

Futility

2010-04-10T11:59:00.008-05:00

The cure for my sometimes brooding and anxious heart is my futility.

Sometimes in my walk with God my heart gets cold and stale and I release it to drown for a season in the swift waters of life.

In the last month my inclination – no my instinct – has been to not press into God as I feel myself separating from Him.

It has been to just plunge headlong into my own thoughts and disengage from fighting “the good fight.”

I’m just tired. I’m overwhelmingly busy.

I haven’t been able to find my way back with warm verses like “those who wait upon the Lord soar on eagles wings,” or “for God so loved the world…”

This morning I read in Ecclesiastes 9:3 that “…the hearts of the sons of men are full of evil and insanity is in their hearts throughout their lives. Afterwards they go to the dead.”

It's interesting to me these scriptures are what brought me comfort.

Ecclesiastes 9 through 10 goes on to validate that we mourn, that our days are hard and that often we are futile, and well, that’s just the way it is.

Solomon tells us there is one fate for all men. Evil men, lazy men, righteous men - we can plan and we can toil but in the end we all go to down to Sheol.

I have seen everything during my lifetime of futility: there is a righteous man who perishes in his righteousness and there is a wicked man who prolongs his life in his wickedness.

There is futility, which is done on the earth, that is, there are righteous men to whom it happened according to the deeds of the wicked. On the other hand, there are evil men to whom it happens according to the deeds of the righteous. I say this too is futility.

I have a friend, who loves God.

Her whole life has been in service to Him.

In the last year-and-a-half her son died of a drug overdose, her mother passed away, and she watched her beloved husband of 40 years slowly suffocate from pneumonia.

Her grief is her world right now, and it is oppressive and overwhelming.

So what now is her fate?

Should I send her a greeting card with a watercolor scene painted on it and calligraphy talking about God’s promises for a hope and a future?

God brings the day of adversity just as he brings the day of prosperity.

There is a proper time and procedure for every delight, though a man’s trouble is heavy upon him.

To me, Ecclesiastes is honest about how inequitable life can be for those who strive for righteousness. These verses acknowledge that tension we all feel about how we wish we behaved and how we wish things would be - verses how thing actually are.

These verses don't instruct us to throw in the towel either. In fact, there is a strident warning that in the end the unrepentant life and unrestrained evil we may practice will not go unpunished.

Because the sentence against an evil deed is not executed quickly, therefore the hearts of the sons of men among them are given fully to do evil…

But it will not be well for the evil man and he will not lengthen his days like a shadow because he does not fear God.

Whether it is our exhaustion, our willful disobedience or the unfair tragedies of life

Ecclesiastes, I believe, is giving us permission to sometimes let go of our expectations and just be.

Because sometimes things really are as harsh and hard as they feel.

Time and chance overtake all.

It is refreshing to me that Solomon says sometimes the answer is to let go of our rigid fervor to churn out our fate through our best efforts and right living.

I think he's telling us to take ourselves less seriously.

Do not be excessively righteous and do not be overly wise. Why should you ruin yourself?

Do not take seriously all words, which are spoken, so that you will not year your servant cursing you.

For you also have realized that you likewise have many times cursed others.

The condition of my heart and my thoughts are what they are. I want to love Jesus and I want to live life well. But today it’s not a very shiny or pretty love.

But I am small. The cure for my brooding heart is that right now I need to be reminded of my smallness in the world.

Today God’s grace is lifting my burden in the truth that I am small and futile.

Everything under the sun has been done before and has been forgotten and will be forgotten again when I repeat it.

But Solomon’s words also gently pull us back into the heart of God to understand that even though the nature of this world is futile it is still good for the soul and our calling to practice God’s love.

Go then, eat your bread in happiness and drink your wine with a cheerful heart: for God has already approved your works.

Let your clothes be white all the time, and let not oil be lacking on your head.

Enjoy life with the woman whom you love all the days of your fleeting life, which He has given to you under the sun: for this is your reward in life and your toil in which you have labored under the sun.

Whatever you hand finds to do, do it with all your might: for there is no activity or planning or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol where you are going.

The race is not to the swift and the battle is not to the warriors, and neither is bread to the wise nor wealth to the discerning nor favor to men of ability:

For time and chance overtake them all.

The Jesus in a Triple with Cheese

2009-10-07T07:01:00.010-05:00

I have had a great deal on my mind lately. Ministry conflict, relationship challenges, people who are hurting in my family.

And I'd be really grateful to hear from the Lord a loud and clear answer on any of the above. But in all of these situations I guess He's decided they are a process, a trial, a maturing... Sigh.

In the mean time, I've been throwing out proverbial fleeces and arranging circumstances to maximize God's opportunity to show up in a way, time and place that would make perfect sense and be obvious to me. As far as I can tell He's not responding to my tactics.

On Sunday I was driving to my friend Stephanie's house to enjoy a meal (and when I say enjoy a meal, I mean one granddaddy of a honkin' feast prepared by her expert hands). It was rainy and cool and I was loving the day.

On my way, at May and I-44, I saw a homeless woman holding a sign. (I don't ever read the signs, although I should more often because a couple of months ago I saw a guy holding a sign that said, "Why lie - I need a cigarette and a beer." I thought that was the best marketing tool for spare change I had ever seen. If I hadn't been late for a meeting, I would have backed up and given him a $20.)

I like to give cheeseburgers and fries to people who stand on the corner holding a sign. It's just my thing. No deep spiritual principle...just like to do it when I am able.

So when I saw this woman draped in a long coat with the hood pulled up over her head, and a cane that she was leaning on, my heart went out to her, and I immediately knew it was cheeseburger time.

So I made my way to the Wendy's just on the other side of I-44, and as I was about to turn in, I heard as clear as day, "You should buy two meals. They never work alone."

I, of course, reasoned with that whispered thought that I was doing a mighty work in just buying one, and that two cheeseburgers was not really necessary. That's just my overly eager sense of compassion welling up, which always gets me into trouble when I take it too far.

But to make up for the fact that I wasn't buying two, I went for a 3/4 lb triple with cheese large fries and a water (I also reasoned she was dehydrated and water is better for her than DrP.)

So I pulled out, completely satisfied with myself that I was on my way to do something God would really appreciate. Then I saw her friend. He was working the south corner of May and I-44.

"You should buy two. They never work alone."

Punch to my gut.

As I pulled up to her friend, I rolled down the window at the stop light and handed the first cheeseburger to him and said, "Is that your friend on the other side?"

"Yea," he said with a big smile.

"Will you share this?"

"Yea," another smile as he accepted it and immediately gathered his things and started to cross the intersection to go have lunch with his friend.

I rolled up my window and felt awkward.

I told myself the 3/4 lb triple with cheese, large fry and large water was enough for the both of them.

I even talked to myself about the beauty of how they were going to share that cheeseburger and how I can't remember the last time I shared my cheeseburger with someone. And maybe I would even ask some of my friends in the coming week the profound question of when was the last time they had shared their cheeseburger with someone. And how we would all be humbled and meek for a time thanks to the insightful spiritual principle of simple sharing illustrated to us by these two beautiful homeless people.

But as I did my U-turn and headed back south for Steph's house, I started feeling a little desperate at my choice of one cheeseburger over two. Had I just ignored a rare moment when I actually heard something from God?

I made it all the way to Steph's house before the conviction was so strong that I had to roll down my window and shout at Steph, who was just getting out of her car home from church, "I will be back in 7 minutes! Just 7 - gotta run and do something real quick!"

Like a repentant maniac, I sped back as fast as I could shouting at every stop light and slow driver..."I am trying to to do the work of GOD! Get out of my way!"

Wataburger was on the other side of May, so I decided I would stop there for round two.

Now Wataburger is not like Wendy's.

I sat there for the longest eternity of twelve minutes waiting for their version of the 3/4 lb with cheese, and it was not very convenient.

But I then reasoned that my wait was a result of my disobedience and could be likened to those times we spend wandering in the deserts of life because we've ignored the voice of God and now we may have to suffer the consequences...

(As you can tell this whole cheeseburger debacle began to have epic lessons/principles weaved into it...)

So when I finally got the second cheeseburger I whipped over to my friend who was already back at his post after sharing the first burger, and like a gigantic dork said, "Uhm hey, since there were two of you I wanted you both to have a full burger so I went back and got a second."

To understand the awkwardness of what I felt at this moment, think of that scene where Baby tells Patrick Swazy, "...I carried the watermelon."

He just looked at me and said, "Oh, ok thanks," and smiled.

So I smiled back...said something lame like "Have a good day" and rolled up my window.

For whatever reason, rolling up my window felt like a little glass wall I had let down momentarily to conveniently bestow my grand kindness and then put back up to keep my world tidy.

So now I was late back to Steph's house where the rest of the lunch party was waiting on me to each their lunch.

So instead of a nice encounter with a random act of kindness I had a series of awkward circumstances with a rush of guilt and other emotions that overshadowed the whole exchange between me and the two homeless people.

I'm not sure what the lesson is other than listen the first time and if you think you're supposed to buy two cheeseburgers for the love of God just buy them.

And perhaps it gets easier to here Him in the more pressing situations of life when we are first obedient in the small subtle instructions.

Day 21 – Death is crouching – a mortician’s view

2009-07-18T22:36:00.003-05:00

On day 21 of my "30 days left to live," I received a text message at 1:30 a.m. morning from a new friend I recently met on my last trip to West Africa.

It was a plea for prayer on behalf of his friend, with whom he graduated from high school. His friend is in a fight for his life against leukemia. They are both 23ish.

Eric reminded me in the text message he “doesn’t do the God thing.”

Yet he is vicariously asking God to move.

We humans are such funny little creatures. If only our back-door acknowledgments to God were more plainly seen by us as a stark clue to how deep our need for Him is ingrained in our very being.

In the last four weeks in almost every circle of friends and family I have death has reminded me it is always on the move. This is partly my motivation for wanting to be more conscientious of how brief our time is here, and be more deliberate in how I make choices.

Three weeks ago, a 50-year-old farmer was electrocuted, who was among my parents’ closest friends. Tim left behind his bride of 28 years, Tina, and four beautiful children who had just started families of their own.

My friend Christy called me two days ago because her uncle suddenly passed away.

A business associate I have known and worked with for years died Wednesday from cancer. I didn’t even know he was sick. I read about it in the paper.

Two days before a friend’s wedding, she called me horrified, because her fiancé’s cousin had committed suicide in a drunken rage by slashing himself over his whole body and then hanging himself. He had a three-week-old baby and a new wife.

My own uncle has only weeks, possibly days, now that the cancer has spread to his brain.

A guy about my age who I know from church delivered the message this Sunday and talked about how his wife (couldn’t have been married more than a couple of years as he’s still in his 20s) was killed in a tragic car accident.

An excellent woman of deep character and faith that I have recently been privileged to spend time with has lost her mother, son and husband within a year.

Don’t tell me there aren’t times where it is legitimate to ask, “Has God deserted me?”

But what do we do with all the loss and tragedy? When the shortness of life socks us in the gut? Has God abandoned us?

I have a friend who is a mortician. She is young, full of joy and has this authentic faith that shines. She chose this path, because she sees all the pain, the questions and the despair of people who come through the doors of the funeral home.

It is her ministry to lovingly prepare arrangements, sit quietly with families, comfort in tears and give dignity to services, answer tough questions…

She thinks there is a culture of avoiding death in America. Ignoring its realities.

Often, we are shocked in the American church when death strikes home. Our society is so filled with images of beauty, vitality, youth and health, that death seems so far removed, unnatural and inappropriate unless you are old and have had a full life.

My mortician friend tells me about how the viewings used to be in the home for several days. It was a very public event where the home was the epicenter of all the remembrances, memorials, and grieving. Children were not protected from the dead or kept away while the casket was open.

And, of course, it used to be much more common to lose a child, or die young from disease, die in childbirth…

I don’t mean to be morbid in writing about this whole subject. But focusing on death and having a clear picture of the fact we are all going to die seems almost taboo to talk about.

Obviously when we experience death of someone significant in our life, it is natural to mourn, grieve and struggle deeply.

It's interesting that so many of my friends in West Africa maintain rock-like faith in Christ, when they see nothing but death and disease all-day long. But in the land of privilege and wealth, when we lose someone, often it cripples our faith.

Perhaps we’ve just lost our healthy acknowledgment of the reality of death – how quickly we come, how quickly others go and how brief we all are.

Whether we have 30 days left or 30 years. It’s all so brief. Understanding our own brevity and insignificance can bring clarity and passion to always live life like you only have 30-days left.

Day 28 - Teach me to number my days

2009-07-13T06:44:00.001-05:00

I went to a different church from my own this morning, and …drum roll…in keeping with the theme of 30 days to live the message happened to be "Show me, O Lord, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life.” Psa 39:4

This, for me, may be getting a little spooky at this point.

During the service, clips from the movie, The Bucket List, were used to illustrate what matters most in life – relationships with God and relationships with people. (I always find it remarkable when Hollywood swims in deep waters without a political agenda, btw.)

There are two approaches in the movie of two dying men. One pursues pleasure and the other, a deeper reason for life and restoration of relationships.

The idea of cramming in as much wild and unimaginable pleasure possible if you knew you only had a short time to live, vs. pursuit of meaningful relationships, more fulfilling things, or restoration of all you have wrecked during your life is an interesting debate. Pursuit of self? Or pursuit of others and the meaning of life?

Everyone, of course, will say the latter of the two is the more noble pursuit. How many of us though, because we don’t regularly face the fact we are dying (whether it be in 50 years or 30 days) unconsciously live for self?

On Saturday, while trying to filter my daily activities through the question, “What would I do if I only had 30 days to live?” I found myself making judgments about little things, “This person I just tied in meeting at the intersection – should I dart out to be first, because, hey – I’ve only got 30 days to live! I have to get going!” Or do I, in a sense exhale and recognize it doesn’t really matter? Wave them forward and wait two minutes longer. Ponder this may be the last time I tie someone at an intersection…

Or on the way to Kansas City, my mom told me I was tailgating someone too close. Do I stick with my usual reaction of getting really annoyed? Or do I just look at her, tell her I love her and let it go?

I decided under the 30-day scenario, she matters more than my ego. I love her deeply and why in the world would I spend my few days with her being annoyed?

So on day 28, I want the answer to be others are first in my life. When I’m not first it opens the door for others to sit deep in my heart. It creates space in my soul for God to come in and take root.

This marks the first day of the last 30 days I have to live.

2009-07-10T22:22:00.004-05:00

July 10, 2009.

Everyday it seems like a fog of life decisions and situations and chores can be all we wake up to. And sometimes I’m so full of fear, bad habits or procrastination that I wince at choices that will open me up to pain or loss – choices that may cost me something.

So often I wait. I sit and stew in a situation when I should act.

I wait for Genie Jesus to come along and magically engineer my circumstances to where my feet are transported to that spacious and sure footing the Psalms talks about.

This week would be an excellent week for me to get my act together, clear my head and focus on things that matter, because I am picking up my daughter and her sister in Kansas City. They are spending a week with my family and I for the first time.

Almost nine years ago, I placed my three-day-old newborn for adoption with a wonderful family I chose from out of state.

(I was young, in a bad relationship, had no education and no way to support a child.)

I was totally unprepared for how gut retching that choice would be. For three years I stayed mostly in a fog of grief over a motherhood no one really credited (including myself) as legitimate.

(Well, there were a few. But for the most part if you want to create a socially awkward moment in a crowded room, throw out the fact you’re a birth mother and watch all the little people scatter.)

Overtime, the adoption grew into a fully open one. I love each member of my daughter’s adoptive family and cherish the closeness that I have with them.

So anyway I’m in the bathroom getting ready this morning (this is often where my most profound thoughts of the day take place), and I’m thinking about the haunting voicemail I had at 5:30 a.m. from my beloved kid brother, Matt, sobbing because his girlfriend of two years just dumped him OUT OF THE BLUE after spending some week at some pansy-ass self discovery thing in California where she met a guy that she thinks she needs to pursue. I want to kick her ass. Very Jesus like, right?

Then my mind starts rolling through the possibilities of how this situation can be used to create opportunity to win Matt back to the truth that God is real. He is LOVE. He is NOT Joel Olsteen. He is not religion. He is not some rigid non-educated world view or Ned Flanderish lifestyle that prefers bumper stickers warning of unmanned vehicles in case of rapture instead of profound logic and reason that makes sense of the universe.

Then I started to dwell on the fact my best friend is in West Africa for two weeks at an orphanage and I MISS HER and need her counsel right now so much. My lovely, God-given crutch of friendship that I’m such a weenie without…

Then I started to think of my other beautiful friend who is going through a messy custody battle with an ex-husband who’s also on my list of “peoples behinds I would kick if I wasn’t a Jesus follower.”

Then I started to think about this relationship I had swung back and forth into over the last 10 months that looked great on paper (go to church, gainfully employed) and should have added up, but it didn't. At all. And we both knew it.

So much energy expended…round holes…square pegs…my life’s pastime…

Then I started to think about my daughter’s family and her parents and how they are separated and may very well end up divorced.

What does that mean? What does it mean God, when you sacrifice your sanity? Your motherhood? When you sacrifice your right to see your own child so she can have a family and it all falls apart anyway?

That’s when the thought came to me of what would I do if I had to filter everything through the reality I only had 30 days to live?

While I was getting to ready this morning, I remembered a sermon Craig Groschel socked to my gut a couple of years ago titled “30 days to live.”

He interviewed people who were dying, and asked them what their regrets were? How are they spending their time? What would they do differently with their family?

I began to challenge myself in my head. “How would you treat this relationship if you only had 30 days to live? How much more time would you waste on that situation or this situation?

Would I finally divorce fear, my lifelong companion, and more deeply embrace God’s truth and faithfulness that He came to give us life abundant?

But my thoughts were interrupted by a call from my mom, “Did you get a call from Uncle Steve’s mom?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well, I guess they forgot their cell phones on their way to the VA. They were getting another CAT scan. It must be bad for Lenore to leave a message and say she can’t get a hold of me so she’s going to call you.”

“What do you think it is?” I asked.

“Well you know he’s been really sick. He can barely eat anymore and they’ve stopped the chemo. I don’t think he’s honestly going to live much longer.”

At this point I just stood there shocked by what I was hearing. Shocked for my uncle, and shocked because I had just been completely marinating in my own mortality, and my mom calls me with this news.

I have to be honest, my Uncle and I are not that close. I don’t want to be one of those people who put themselves on display during a tragedy for the notoriety that comes from being near to it.

My Uncle is a hard man to know and an even harder man to love. At 50-something he was never married, no children, and he hasn’t had a job in more than five years.

The vitality of his life, the meaning of it, is something that has long been lost for him.

When he would join us for a holiday, he would spend the entire day watching TV never talking to anyone.

The only thing that would engage him was to throw out something provocative like, “Yea, I do NOT think Democrats are the spawn of Satan…” And he would swivel the chair around, and go rapid fire on the great evils and stupidity of liberals, Democrats, credit card companies, preachers, foreigners, Muslims, college kids, Californians, the news media and the weasely French…till all in the room would suddenly remember something urgent in the other room and scatter.

But we really do love him. And he does have his sweet moments. They’ve grown with frequency the more sick that he has gotten. So have his desire to “do this” or “go there when I get better.”

Today his doctor recommended to his 80-something year old mother that she get hospice.

So I don’t know why anyone would want to read about this.

But I’ve made the decision today to try and sincerely live my life the next 30 days like there all I’ve got.

Now this doesn’t mean that I’m going to quit work, let my car get repossessed and do nothing but eat chocolate and spend time with my family.

But I am going to make a conscious decision that with every circumstance I encounter, be it a person in need, a weighty decision, a string that needs cutting, a leap of faith that needs taking…I’m going to try and filter that decision/circumstance through, “What would I do if I only had 30 days to live?”

We shall see what comes of it…

The Double Agent: Between the Pharasee and Tax Collector

2009-05-09T22:53:00.007-05:00

What does it mean when your heart longs for

justice to be delivered.
mercy to be shown.
significance.
a more natural selflessness.
healing from broken patterns.
a well of kindness from within.
peace.
a genuine love for others.
clear thinking.
determination to finish.
excellence in what you do.

And yet despite all the grace and love you find yourself

being annoyed at KLOVE all week long, and then worshiping to the acoustical version of the song on Sunday in church.

being enraged at the headline of the innocent killed by a drunk driver, but you two and a half glasses of wine after a long week and then drove home.

you pour in love and hope into a crushed heart that's been placed in your path, yet you do not bother to hide the deep disdain for the angry and rude man who lives in unit #1.

deep and heartfelt prayer for a good friend's relative who you don't know, and a total inability to sustain an effort to plead for your brother.

Luke 18: 9-14

Confess it like you mean it and then you will

deliver justice.
show mercy.
find significance in humility.
be selfless.
stomp out broken patterns.
well up with kindness.
breath peace.
genuinely love.
think.
finish.
polish with excellence.

Number My Days

2009-05-02T21:41:00.003-05:00

For the last six months I have lived in the fog of choices that rolled through my life, and became so thick so quickly, I suddenly found myself unable to see 'the end game' of my life.

I hate that feeling. Nothing makes me wither quicker than knowing I've chosen the drudgery of a lesser path or busyness over God's calling or His pursuit of me.

The last four weeks have been an attempt -albeit somewhat shaky- to realign and refocus my heart and my dreams on a path that revives my desire to live in pursuit of Him.

It's just so easy to get bogged down in stupid, thoughtless choices whether they be over relationships, time, spending money, taking on too much work, being consumed with buying stuff...that you wake up one day and you're about to turn 62 and hate where you are in life.

A good friend of mine, Dr. Dicks, who has forgotten more about agri-business and sustainable economic development projects in 3rd world countries than I will ever hope to learn - said something on Friday that has stuck to my bones all weekend.

In referencing our plan to start a farm in Sierra Leone West Africa, as the first project of a larger vision to help launch businesses that feed and employ our African friends, he said "I don't have much time left. I have get this one right. I can't waste time on people or projects that aren't going to work."

He's right.

The world is burning.

No one who truly gives a damn has the luxury of being ineffective.

Whether it's serving the poor, single moms, orphans, starvation, the national deficit, saving the whales, AIDS, child soldiers, raising your children, loving your spouse, eating healthier, not being mastered by coffee or soda, finding a cure for the common cold...we should all number our days with the end game in mind and work our way backwards to how we will arrive, by grace, at living abundantly.

Election Day

2008-11-04T01:01:00.011-06:00

If America were a 30-second political ad, what would you squeeze in?

What would we stand for?

I'm not apathetic about who the next leader of the free world will be.

I care.

But I have to force myself to push past the Hollywood Race to the White House, Associated Press Mafia who forsake their critical role in democracy for ratings, fear peddling of 527s, candidates feigned feelings of affection for this or that, candidates who's life moments and personal histories are carefully crafted and delivered as a connector to this base or that, the people who make Enemies of The Other Side, the People who stand up in God's House and carefully cluck their tongue and gasp and warn others to think hard before you vote... the barely unspoken implied truth that one candidate is more aligned with Jesus, or didn't you know?

In fact, I'm exhausted by people propping their Jesus cardboard cut out next to their Party Platform. Hippie Christians and Conservatives - you both do it.

Tomorrow I will stand in line. Probably a long one. Mr. Matthews my precinct worker will probably try to stick my "I Voted" sticker on me again. I will dodge him.

My overriding principles that are guiding my vote are: less government and taxation is better for America and her people. We live in a scary world and evil and bad people are real. And America has a unique responsibility as imperfect as we are to try and defeat those who do not love democracy and would harm us.

I will vote for John McCain. Not because I am inspired. Not because I believe John McCain embodies someone I admire, or someone who deeply reflects my values and inspires me to live them out more. No, it's more like he's a cardboard cutout that mirrors closest my personal platform.

I'm Becoming A Socialist

2008-08-02T11:26:00.006-05:00

So as someone who has always considered themselves a hard-core conservative, I have decided that I'm struggling with becoming a socialist. It all stems around the concept of "redistribution of wealth."

According to Emptytomb.org, 2005 Overseas Ministries income, including donations and other sources, to 700 Protestant mission agencies, including denominational, interdenominational and independent agencies, was $5.2 billion.

Yesterday I was sipping on some Starbucks (avg American spends $100 a mo. on coffee), my friend Rick was telling me about his new consulting job for a church in Dallas. He was telling me how they just completed a $77 million building w/ the mineral rights of the land their church sits on.

Last week, I saw that the OK Baptist General Convention just completed their $45 million plan for the kids camp they run in Falls Creek.

My mind is reeling as I think about how it takes 4HIM ministries way too much time to scrape up the $10,000 it takes to builld a school, a poultry farm, a water well... you name it.

The world is in a state of crisis, and God's people in America who have the highest concentration of wealth in the HISTORY OF MANKIND, are busy spending $6.3 billion on lawn and garden accessories like sundials, fountains and sculptures.

The question that I cannot shake from my mind is why, why, why do send so little and do so little overseas to stop poverty, disease, feed orphans, build communities...yet we have abundant flat screens, high-tech video equip, $77 million buildings, plush campuses...etc in our churches?

So, in conclusion, I am for the redistribution of the wealth of the church from our building campaigns, for chandeliers and flat screens to orphans and widows.

What exactly must God think of us?

The Dark Knight, Crying Baby Family and Royal Eunuches

2008-07-20T20:39:00.007-05:00

So I just came back from watching The Dark Knight.

There is a scene in the movie where the Joker has rigged two barges full of people with bombs. He has given both boats until midnight before he blows them up - but they can save themselves by pressing the detonator on their own barge which will blow up the other barge. They essentially have 15 minutes to decide if they are going to save themselves by killing the other people on the other barge.

One barge is full of hardened criminals being evacuated from Gotham. The other - innocent civilians. The Joker is trying to prove deep down everyman is for himself.

The irony is as this scene unfolds, in the theater there is a real life drama playing out. A crying baby is drawing a great deal of attention. People are yelling at the parents to "take the kid outside." Most of us would have been mortified if our child was screaming its head off and would have taken it outside. But the parents of this baby instead started cursing all the people around them and telling them to shut the F up among other things....lovely.

The clock is ticking on the barges...the hardened criminals being guarded by SWAT members are looking menacingly at the detonator. On the other barge of innocent civilians, women and children are crying and one man becomes enraged that they might all die to "save a bunch of criminals."

Back at the theater the baby starts crying even louder. My family and I are sitting directly above them. My mom, with a little too much Irish fire in her says, "take your baby outside!"

The father of the baby immediately turns around gets about two inches from my Mom's face with a pointed finger and says, "You shut your mouth."

My Dad then jumps up - he is twice the size of this kid pointing his finger at my mom - grabs the kid's hand - makes a motion to shake it and says "Son, it's alright. Let's just sit back down." and pats the kid on the back.

I don't know who was more startled my mom - or the kid. To his credit, he shook my Dad's hand back.

I, of course, am ENRAGED. Point your finger at my Mom?! I wanted to jump over the seat and clobber the dude. Sometimes it sucks to be a girl who weighs a buck-o-five (ok maybe a buck fifteen) .

Batman and the Joker are at this point are going at it fist to fist - bat gadgets to crowbar - Good to evil...

Back at the barges, the harden criminals it's 2 minutes until midnight and one inmate (Tommy "Tiny" Lister who played the royal eunuch in that wretched excuse for a film "One Night With the King" for which I still haven't forgiven him) convinces the police guard to hand him the detonator because he knows how "to take a life."

"Give it to me and I'll do what you should have done 10 minutes ago," says the royal eunuch.

The feeble, whimpering cop turns the detonator over to the criminal - who then looks at the cop with a scowl and tosses it into the river. The royal eunuch then walks back over to a group of hardened criminal buddies and begins to pray.

On the other barge, the innocent civilians and the enraged man who almost press their detonator decide they cannot kill the criminals either.

The Joker - so certain each barge will cave and blow the other one up - didn't have a back up detonator after all. Midnight passes and no one gets blown up.

CRAP, CRAP, CRAP. I want to deck the guy who just pointed his finger at my mom and and the royal eunuch and the innocent civilians ruin it for me.

So I say a mini silent prayer while Batman is dangling the Joker from a building, "Ok, Lord please diffuse my anger. Show me how to honor You? What do You want me to do?"

Clear as day, "I want you to show the punk kid who got in your mom's face, My love."

Sigh.

Lights go up, we shuffle out and so does the loud baby family. I walk up him and say, "Hey even though you pointed your finger at my Mom, I just want to tell you that it's ok. I'm sorry people were yelling at you and I pray that God blesses your family."

He just looked at me and nodded. I could tell he was embarrassed too.

Granted those weren't the most eloquent words, but I tried. And at least by God's grace, I didn't press the detonator either.

CD

International Adoption

2008-07-14T22:57:00.006-05:00

When I originally signed up for the trip to Sierra Leone to work in the orphanage, in the back of my mind there was always the possibility of some route toward adoption. Not for me personally - but to facilitate adoptions for others. Why wouldn't this be something amazing - taking children from the poorest country in the world and blessing them with homes?

As a birthmother, I have been involved in adoption for almost a decade. I think it is an amazing, wonderful gift that creates the blessing of a family. The thought of opening an adoption agency with my brilliant and beautiful friends, Dierdre - adoption guru, M.A., LPC and Melissa - wonder attorney, had even been recently discussed by the three of us.

The shadowy underworld of adoptions that has left many couples heart-broken and out of cash and young women being treated as a means to an end should be a thing of the past in America. Sadly it is not. So the idea of founding an agency that was based on the principles of ethical, affordable adoption is a cause I can rally behind any day of the week.

Since coming home, in sharing my pictures and stories about the orphans of Wellington, several compassionate souls have inquired as to their availability to be adopted.

I was surprised when I found myself alarmed and agitated by the thought. Lately, many things we (especially me) do in the Disneyland of America has become a source of agitation in light of how much others lack across the globe.

But these children have a family. They have 32 sisters and 43 brothers, and Pastor Hassan and his wife are their parents. They are close, protective and loving of each other.

The young girls cry when their older brothers must leave for boarding school. Who will protect them now from harassment of the men in the streets as they walk to school?

I know the love and closeness of the Wellington orphanage may not be the standard norm. Undoubtedly there are many children who are not loved by their caretakers nor consider their fellow orphans as siblings.

But even if they don't - is it our power to make this the reality at more orphanages?

What if instead of spending the $40,000 - $50,000 we spend to rescue one child and leave the rest behind - we spent $40,000- $50,0000 on supplying water, health care, quality, loving caretakers, education and hope to the entire orphanage for a decade?

There are appx 300,000 foster children in America that are in need of loving, permanent homes. Domestic, foster-care adoptions typically are a fraction of the cost of adopting internationally.

And what of children who have been taken from there parents in foreign countries (at the parent's request) who were so poor they couldn't afford to feed them - would it not be better to spend the $40,000 to $50,000 on providing the entire family shelter, food and hope for a decade?

Wellington is filled with the brightest and most amazing children. They are the hope of Sierra Leone. They have a vision and a dream to rebuild their country - because that has been instilled in them by Pastor Hassan and the mission teams working with them.

If they were adopted - it would leave a gaping hole in the intellectual and visionary capital so desperately needed to save an impoverished nation.

Teenage Boys Don't Eat. They Pray.

2008-07-11T08:13:00.005-05:00

Hi Friends,

If I've you've had time to catch up with me in the last couple of weeks, then you know that you're going to get sick of hearing me talk about a group of orphans in Sierra Leone. The good news is you can now have a break from hearing about the pregnancy center in Norman.

I am now working with 4HIM ministries to expand higher education opportunities for the older children that enable entrepreneurship. All of the children have a desire to be leaders and rebuild their country. The pastor who runs the orphanage is working with 4HIM to lead agricultural, healthcare and education projects that are creating incredible economic opportunities across Sierra Leone.

To launch our education initiative we are working hard to bring three of the boys to Oklahoma to pursue an education that enables them to play a leadership role in 4HIM's efforts. Our focus will likely be construction management, agriculture and hotel management. I wanted to share a quick story about how remarkable these children are.

There is a cell phone at the orphanage paid for with calling cards, so yesterday I was able to talk with some of them. They couldn't wait to tell me their news. They are so excited for the three older boys, who are very much the "respected older brothers" at the orphanage, that all of the boys have started a seven-day fast on Monday. No rice, no porridge for seven days - period. They are praying the Lord will make it possible for the three to come. If teenage boys fasting for seven days isn't remarkable enough - they are also holding all night prayer vigils for their brothers.

I asked Bakarr if he was hungry. He laughed, "Akay, Akay yes I am Creestol! But it is good to hunger for the Lawd."