So, you think you know me?

Recently, I began to notice some slight changes around my wife. However, being the typical man, it took me much longer to finally realize what I was noticing. It began with a glimpse of a pink hand-bag here, matching pink ear-rings there, a pink pendant to complete the ensemble. I easily wrote off the changes with a man’s perspective of fashion, “It must have matched the outfit.” But then, she began to point out the pink this, and the pink that. Something wasn’t right.

My wife and I dated for 5 years before we were married. This year we celebrated our 10th anniversary. In all this time, my wife’s favorite color has ALWAYS been green. We drive a green mini-van because that’s her favorite color. Her favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip, still green. She looks forward to St. Patrick’s Day each year so she can get a “Shamrock shake” from Mc Donald’s, also green. Her favorite gem has always been emerald, yes, that’s right, green.

So, after it finally dawned on me that my wife wasn’t wearing anything green, I brought up the question. “I thought you liked green, what’s with all the pink lately?”

After 15 years of dating this beautiful woman, I learned something I never knew. When she was a child, every other girl loved pink, and since she wanted to be different, she chose green to express her individuality.

“I like green,” she said, “but I really like pink too.”

How could I not know this about her? Fifteen years I’ve dated this woman, years of friendship before that. How could I have not known? You think you know someone…

I thought I had my wife all figured out. I had her examined, categorized, classified and filed. Now I find myself re-examining my findings. If I failed to know this, what else might I have missed?

We don’t even realize when we do it. We scrutinize, categorize, classify and file most of the people we meet. We know who they are, and can anticipate their every behavior. Very rarely do they surprise us.

And just as we classify the people in our lives, so we classify God. We scour the scriptures, scrutinize the stories, categorize the topics, classify the behaviors, and then file God under some vague category like “Good.”

Then we get Angry with God because He fails to behave in the proper categorized manner we have expected. God is my healer, why hasn’t He healed me? God is my comforter, why does He seem so distant? God is my friend, why do I feel so lonely?

You can’t read the gospels without seeing Jesus jump from category to category, confusing his disciples and followers. One minute, He’s a raving lunatic chasing merchants and money changers with a whip. The next moment, He’s meek and quiet, rebuking Peter for using a sword.

Perhaps God gets tired of living in the tiny boxes we provide. Perhaps He’s moved so He could surprise us. He’s jumped from our folder, filed under “Good,” so we could discover Him filed under “Merciful.” He’s moved from “Merciful” so we’d find Him under “Holy.” He's moved from "Holy" so we'd find Him under "Just."

If your relationship with God has grown stale and stagnant, you may want to check the box where you filed Him. The odds are, He’s not where you left Him.

An added challenge for the adventurous types...

God is looking for explorers. He's looking for those who are willing to lay aside what they believe they know, to discover the reality of who God is. Only the daring few who will lay aside their book knowledge for life experience will gain the understanding to transform their life, and change their world.

The Apostle Peter had many faults, however his adventurous pioneering spirit gave him insights and understanding that transformed him into a world changer. All the other disciples saw Jesus as the water walker, but Peter knew Him as the water walker. There is a difference between seeing Jesus walk on the water, and walking with Him hand-in-hand. There is a difference between seeing Jesus heal people, and allowing Jesus to heal using your hand.

But I would be remiss if I didn't caution you prior to this expedition. Failure awaits your very next step. You see, before Peter could walk hand-in-hand with Jesus, he first had to sink on his own. Life changing experiences most often come at the price of life changing failures. It's okay. It's expected. Jesus is waiting to stretch out His hand and show you the way.

I believe heaven may have a sign posted outside the pearly gates, "Adventurers wanted. Apply within."

Scars

I find myself writing this month's newsletter from the one place I least expected; my oldest son's bedside at All Children's Hospital in St. Petersburg, Florida. How I arrived here is a whirlwind adventure that I still don't completely understand, and the doctors seem unable to exactly explain.

It all began with a typical cold. One child gave it to the other, and soon each one fell victim. Soon, the cold ran its course and each child began to return to normal. All except one.

When finally it appeared that things were just not getting any better, Carla and I took Kenny to the emergency room. Our expectation was that they were going to give him some antibiotics and perhaps an IV to refresh his fluids. Our expectations were quickly shattered when we found ourselves in the frenzy of emergency room workers, and then quickly transferred to the Children's hospital in St. Pete.

Only once in St. Pete did the doctors begin to explain the severity of Kenny's condition. Sleep deprived, and still unaware of the true severity of his condition, the doctor's words struck me like a knock out blow from George Foreman. "We need you to sign this form to give us permission to operate. We need to insert a chest tube and drain the fluid away from his lungs."

I can remember barely being able to stand.

We had been praying for days for him to feel better. How could God have allowed my son to go through this? How could God have allowed this to get so far in the first place?

I found myself in a position I had never been before, as I listened to the doctors try to explain to me what was about to take place with my son. "A cut here... ...microscopic... ...may have to open him up." Their words cut through the haze of emotion like a sword piercing my heart.

As I fought back the tears, my mind agonized with the questions. "What happened? How? Why? Why God? Why?"

I had to sign a paper, my son's life depended on it. I signed it, and then waited. After what seemed an eternity, the doctor came out, and his words brought comfort. "Complete success... better than hoped..."

Two liters of fluid were drained from around his right lung in the surgery, and no damage was found on his lung. The doctor said he'd never seen a lung like this without damage from the experience. But Kenny's lung was perfectly healthy. He'd make a full recovery.

As I have sat, prayed, and contemplated over this past week in the hospital, I can't say that I know or completely understand why God allowed this to happened to my son. I've gone through the very normal human questions like, "Why my son!?!"

But, of the many questions that flowed from my heart in prayer, one question received an immediate response. From a father's love, and out of a broken heart, I cried out to God, "How could you let it get this far? I've always tried to protect him, and keep him from injury and pain. How could you let it get this far knowing that they will cut into him and leave him with scars? Why must my son have scars?"

He didn't answer in a way I would have wanted, but His response struck me none the less. He didn't answer my exact question, but instead taught me about the purpose and power of scars.

Show me a man without scars, and I'll show you a man who has never lived. Scars are the evidence of a battle fought. A lesson learned. Scars represent victories and never defeats. Scars are medals awarded to the victors, the survivors who have faced death and lived to tell about it. Only those still living have scars.

Scars make us real. They prove that we exist. We all know the story of Thomas after Jesus' resurrection. It was only when Thomas could see the hands and feel the side that Jesus became real in his life. It is the same with others as they look at us. There are those in the world looking at the church, trying to search through the hypocrites and spiritual supermen, looking for someone who is real like they are. Looking for someone who is able to be injured as they are, and who bear scars from their experiences as they do.

In the age of plastic surgery, it's often easy to hide our disfiguring scars, and in the church we often do the same. We hide the scars of our injuries and past. We bury them behind facades, and act as though we're invincible. We never bleed, we never hurt, and God always protects us. We're invincible. Plastic surgery can make supermen of mere mortals.

However, if we were to look back at those from the first church, we'd see something completely different. Paul often bragged of his scars. In Second Corinthians alone he describes "afflictions, hardships, distresses, beatings, imprisonments, tumults, labors, sleeplessness, stoning, whippings and hunger." Paul bore his afflictions openly, describing weaknesses, and trials. He didn't win the lost by demonstrating his superiority, but instead used his afflictions as an opportunity.

Scars have a purpose. They are visible reminders of where we've been, and what we've learned. They are tender to the touch, and make us tender to those who are facing what we have experienced.

Scars give hope. Scars prove that God brought you through, and if He can do it for you, He can do it for me too.

As I sit at the bedside, and finish this newsletter, I still can't say that I know completely why I'm here, but I know that God can use this experience.

Here, let me show you the scar.

Excuse me, what fragrance is that you are wearing?

I pulled on my t-shirt and stopped. Smiling, I pulled the collar back up to my nose and inhaled deeply. As the smells from the freshly washed laundry burst upon my senses, I grinned from ear to ear. Yep, still smelled like camp fire.

It had been two weeks since the fated “Men’s Camping trip.” The trip, a three night four day camping extravaganza, was specially planned and scheduled to grant my oldest son his first ever camping experience. We slept in a tent, cooked over a camp fire, and even went out for a scenic boat ride. (Well, it was supposed to be a fishing trip, but the fish decided they didn’t want to attend.)

When we returned, the three of us reeked of campfire. The aroma of camp smoke clung to the air around us like a musky manly camping cologne. At least that’s what we told ourselves. Other opinions may vary.

The smell was so strong that my bag, carelessly dropped in the corner of the bedroom, quickly filled the room with the camping aroma. Walking through the bedroom door, your senses were assaulted by the smells of the outdoors.

One bag, having been close to the fire, changed the atmosphere of a home 450 miles away.
As I reflected and meditated on my newsletter this month, it dawned on me how we carry a spiritual & emotional fragrance around us. At times the scent of frustration can be sensed as we walk into a busy office place. We’ll often mention the chill we feel in the air between two people who are bitter toward each other. Others bear a whirlwind of confusion that swirls around them as half thoughts and incomplete ideas swirl by in the air.

Some people have the gentle depth of a peaceful river that slowly washes away the thoughts of the day. While others bear the unmistakable crackling excitement of great power prepared to be unleashed. Yet others walk in such lighthearted joy, that every burden seems to lift by the light fluffy clouds of laughter that so easily float about them.

What fragrance are you wearing?

When you walk through the door, do people immediately detect the fragrance of God or do they quickly turn away as the odor of frustration, anger or fear attacks their senses? Have we spent time wrapped in the midst of God so we bear the fragrance of His presence?

God has called us to bear the fragrant fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Gal 5:22). These fragrances, birthed in heaven, emanate from God Himself. The perfume of which all are seeking, but few have found. Instead, some choose to wander around with cheap knockoff fragrances like infatuation instead of love, and appeasement instead of peace.

The fragrance of God is not difficult to gain, nor difficult to maintain. Give your wife a hug and see if you don’t carry with you a faint aroma of her perfume. Those things you hold, those things you bring close to you, the things you spend time with. Those are the things you will carry the fragrance of.

Is it God?

Dada Pep-uh

Carla’s parents had stopped by and we were enjoying their company. When lunch time rolled around, I suggested one of my favorite meals: Boars-Head subs from the Publix Deli. (Now for those of you who are not from the south, “Boar’s Head” is a brand of deli meat. No, I was not eating an actual boar’s head on my sandwich.)

It wasn’t long until I had listed everyone’s order and placed the call. I then sat eagerly watching the clock until it was time to pick up the sandwiches. I jumped in the car and zoomed to the local Publix.

In typical man fashion, I wasted no time in finding a parking spot and walking directly to the deli counter. The plan was simple: pick up the subs, walk to the checkout, pay, drive home, and then eat until every tasty morsel was but a delicious memory. That was the plan. That is, until the woman behind the counter opened her mouth.

What came out resembled English, but in a dialect and accent I was unaccustomed to. In vain hopes that she was asking what I wanted, I pretended I understood her and replied, “I’m here to pick up my order.”

The look on her face declared that she understood me about as well as I had just understood her. At first I miss-read her expression and feared that I had called my order in to the wrong store, and that my subs were across town. Hoping beyond hope, and fairly sure I’d checked the address before I called, I volunteered, “yeah, I ordered them a little while ago, there should be five or six of them.”

Like the person who makes an obvious show of looking, but doesn’t expect to find anything, she opened the refrigerator to appease me. Much to her surprise, she pulled out an order ticket and then proceeded to pass my subs over the counter.

After I loaded the last sub into my arms like a man carrying logs for a fire, the woman looked up and pointed at something behind me. “Youget fo dada pep-uh.”

“What?” I replied, honestly not understanding a word she said.

“You like dada pep-uh? Youget fo dada pep-uh. Free dada pep-uh,” she said holding up four fingers.

Looking in the direction she pointed, I saw the display of Dr Pepper’s. It seemed that there was a promotion going: buy a sub, get a free two liter bottle of Dr Pepper. I had apparently earned four. I quickly glanced over the rack and realized there were no regular Dr Peppers available. Only diet remained. I shrugged casually, “Oh well, maybe next time,” and began to turn for the checkout lanes.

This woman wouldn’t let me go. She came out from behind the counter, “I hep you,” she volunteered seeing that my arms were loaded down. Walking over to the display she offered, “Diet Dada Pep-uh?” I tried to explain nicely that my wife and I don’t drink diet sodas, but she wouldn’t be deterred. She then led me clear across the store to the soda isle to find me four regular Dr Peppers.

Arriving in the isle we found the same problem we had at the first display, several diets but no regulars. Once again she offered, “Diet Dada Pep-uh? Youget fo Dada Pep-uh’s.” Again I explained that I didn’t want a Diet Dr Pepper.

After I finished, she stood there staring at me like I had just spoken in Chinese. In her mind, she couldn’t conceive that I didn’t want to take these four Diet Dr Peppers. Didn’t I understand that they were FREE!?

Just wanting to get to the counter so I could pay for my subs and go home, I suggested we look one more time. We proceeded to a final display by the check-out lanes and, much to my dismay, found once again shelves stocked full of Diet Dr Pepper, but not one regular. Once again the woman offered, “Diet Dada Pep-uh?”

Worn down, I finally relented. “Sure. I’ll take two of them,” I replied. Maybe my mom will like them, I reasoned.

Immediately her words cut through my thoughts, “No. No. Fo Dada Pep-uh’s. Fo Dada Pep-uh’s,” she said holding up four fingers. Defeated I shrugged, “Okay. I’ll take four Diet Dr Peppers.”

She loaded two into my, already heavy laden, arms and then carried the other two and placed them on the lane. Smiling broadly she said goodbye, and headed back to the deli, proud of her customer service. She had helped this poor ignorant young man who couldn’t understand that he got four free Diet Dr Peppers.

I paid for my sandwiches and proceeded home. On the way, I chuckled to myself over this persistent woman who wouldn’t let me leave without the free sodas, I really didn’t want. As I did, it wasn’t long before a question rocked my spirit. How often do we do that to God?
We hear the voice of Christ quietly whisper in our hearts, “Be healed. It’s free. I paid for it. It’s yours, just take it.” “Oh no, God,” we reply, “I deserve this sickness. I deserve this pain. You’re trying to teach me something through it.”

Or He whispers, “Be blessed. Be blessed in the city. Be blessed in the country. Let your finances be blessed.” “Oh no, God,” we reply, “I don’t want to have money. I’m afraid it will cause me to stumble, cause me to turn from you.”

Or for others He whispers, “Be saved. I’ve paid the price for your salvation. Just turn your life over to me.” “Oh no,” they reply “I’m not good enough. You don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t deserve your sacrifice.”

How many times has God looked down on us, like the woman at Publix looked at me…
“Doesn’t he understand that it’s Free?”

The Road to Emmaus

This past week I was reminded of the story from Luke 24 verses 13 - 32. It’s the story of the men on the road to Emmaus when Jesus walked up beside them. You probably remember the story; they are walking along, talking about the death of Christ and the strange reports of “Jesus sightings” throughout Jerusalem. They don’t know what to think when along comes a stranger, who appears to be oblivious to the situation yet enlightened with deep revelation of scripture and prophecy.

It is only as they get him to enjoy dinner with them that their eyes are opened, and they wonder why it took so long to recognize him. “Were not our hearts burning within us while He was speaking to us on the road?” they wondered.

I have had many “heart burning” experiences in my life, moments where God is so real that my chest seamed set afire by His presence. Not the, “I shouldn’t have eaten that last onion smothered chili dog,” burning sensation. No, this sensation can make you weak in the knees or give you a sense of passion for prayer, intercession or action. It is a fire that drives you to push further in prayer, or strive harder to complete the mission set before you.

By the statements of these two men, it seems evident that they were familiar with this fire. They were familiar with the sensation and knew the fire was always kindled by Christ. It must have amazed them that they could feel the same fire kindled in their hearts as they walked with this stranger.

The fire roaring in their hearts, from the conversations on the way, compelled them to keep the source of this heat near them. It drove them to constrain this stranger to stay with them, and their diligence opened the door to the revelation of Christ. Their obedience to the fire made the way for their eyes to be opened and their lives changed forever.

There are times when we will serve God and live only on a feeling. There are times when we will endure the dry and quiet lands, when God seems a million miles away. But there are the times when God will prompt us with His consuming fire in our hearts.

When you feel the fire, push! When you feel the fire, run! You are on the brink. Your life changing event is just before you!

But if we have never felt the heat, perhaps we should check our path. Perhaps we have never walked close enough to the fire.

The Oak Trees

Some of you may have noticed my absence. I wasn’t online, I didn’t answer my email and I didn’t write an article last week for the website. Instead, I ran away. I loaded up the family and escaped to the little slice of heaven my in-laws own in northern Florida.

Their little slice of heaven is the perfect place to get away, wander through the woods and sit by a meandering brook. I spent some time lazily exploring the property. I watched clouds chase birds across the sky and listened to the orchestra of nature play an overture of joy. I stared up into a cloudless night sky and marveled at the millions of stars staring back. I sat by a roaring bonfire, enjoying the warmth as the flames warred against the cool night air.

On one particular excursion, I wandered down by the brook that cuts across the lower portion of the property. The soft sound of the miniature waterfall and rippling current rejoiced my heart and calmed my soul. I began to look at the oak trees growing tall and strong beside the water. Their straight trunks stretched toward heaven and their uplifted boughs gave wave offerings in the wind. It was beautiful and peaceful, and I loved it.

As I stood staring at the oaks, I was reminded of Psalms chapter 1.

Blessed is the man who delights in the law of the LORD, and in His law he meditates day and night. He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in its season and its leaf does not wither; And in whatever he does, he prospers. (Emphasis Added)

I couldn’t help but think that this is what the writer was describing, as I stared at these mighty oak trees stretching out toward heaven. These strong trees sent out roots that stretched into the soil beside this softly babbling stream. As I explored closer to the water, the roots became more thick and obvious.

As I stood at the water’s edge, I surveyed the scene. This part of the property is on a gentle slope, with the brook running through the valley. As I gazed across the ground, I noticed small gullies where rains had flowed down the hill digging out small trenches as they sought this tranquil stream.

But something else caught my attention as I stared at this beautiful scene. In places where the gullies had formed, the roots of these oak trees were now exposed. The roots were revealed, but only the tops, as their steadying presence and ingrained strength held back the soil from being washed away. Beyond the roots the soil was gone, as though someone had cut it away with a sharpened shovel, but the soil protected by the strength of the tree held its place. The effect looked almost like stair steps.

These mighty oak trees, in their search for moisture and nourishment, had given the ground around them a new stability it lacked without them. These roots that had grown to insure continued growth and strength, assured the plants around them that they wouldn’t be washed away.We often focus on how our love for God and devotion to His word strengthens us and makes us able to weather the storms that come. But rarely do we look and see how our strong roots serve another purpose. Yes, because we pray and study, we will yield the fruit of the Spirit; love, joy, peace, gentleness and kindness. But more than that, we will help serve as an anchor and lifeline for those whose roots do not run as deep. Those young saplings who would be washed away in the torrential rains if not for our steadying strength.

The mighty oak knows its place. With arms outstretched it worships God with every breath and breeze, but in every storm it holds the soil and protects the smallest seed.

The blessing of God’s presence is wonderful! The gift of His Spirit a delight! But, don’t be so focused on the blessing you receive while growing in the Lord that you forget to reach out. Grab hold and rescue those around you who are being washed away by a summer storm.

Christmas

Matthew 2:1-3

“Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, ‘Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.’ When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.”

It often amazes me how we can miss the things that are directly under our noses. I can’t even hazard a guess at the number of times I have asked my wife where something was, only to have her reach out and grab it from right under my nose. Sheepishly, I will thank her and then walk away shaking my head in disbelief. Berating myself I might wonder, “How could I not see that?”

Two thousand years ago, angels appeared to shepherds, declaring a miraculous birth. The shepherds declared it to the people they met, after finding all the angels described. In Jerusalem, Simeon and Anna are both drawn to the miraculous child. Then Anna declares to all who seek that Messiah has finally come. Yet, two years later, when wise men arrive, the King and his leaders still haven’t heard the good news.

Watchful Shepherds were made aware of their deliverer. The watchful man, who clung to his promise, found salvation. The watchful woman, who made prayer her life, found her messiah, and the watchful wise men found their king.

It is amazing the things you’ll find when you are keeping a watchful eye, but miss, when you’re mind is on something else. King Herod and all his leaders were focused on maintaining power and authority. They missed one of the greatest events in history, that took place in the shadow of their palace, because their focus was on something else.

My prayer for you this Christmas is that your focus will be drawn to a simple stable, a gentle baby, The King, born in Bethlehem.

Merry Christmas

Ken, Carla & Family