Grace or Gandhi?

Grace pays the consequence of our sins and shortcomings, and extends to us an invitation to real-life relationship with our Creator. God's grace is given new every day for all time. It meets us right where we're at, and doesn't come with any strings attached to it. By its nature, it is a gift. But following Christ does not come with no strings attached. Too many times we as Christians feel that grace, while it covers our sins, enables a certain level of plateau in our lives. God's grace meets every person where they are at. But if we are to accept His gift  of life which the grace extends, then we are called to change and become more Christ-like every day. 

I read an article on Christianity.com today which discusses Gandhi's famous quote, "your Christ I like, your Christians I don't." It's a great article, and it touches on this idea a bit. It states, correctly, that Gandhi was speaking on his personal interpretation; who he thought Christ was. He did not live his life purposing to become more Christ-like. But he did apparently notice this lack in other Christians. 

This quote has been used countless times to pronounce judgement on hypocritical Christians, and it has been used even further to simply write off Christians altogether. Many times, people accompany this quote with a statement like, "Gandhi had his Jesus, you have yours, I have mine." Like there are multiple Jesus's, or perhaps Jesus is open to each individual's interpretation. He is not. There is only one Christ. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. His life and teachings and guidance are not open to interpretation. What we can know of Him is detailed in the Bible, and is revealed through the Holy Spirit's guidance each day. 

Are we as Christians in danger of interpreting our own Christ when we plateau in our growth? When we remain stagnant in our daily lives, and don't seek to grow, are we truly honoring the gift of grace extended to us? Are we interpreting what we think our relationship with Christ should look like? There's a lot of grey area there, and it can be very costly. We will certainly continue to fall flat on our faces every day. We're human. That is the very reason God extends grace to us daily. But if we claim to follow Christ and His teachings, then we must strive to grow every day. We must, as Paul writes, switch from mother's milk to meat & potatoes. 

I believe that when people look at our lives, this process of growth (including all the failings) is what shows Christ in our lives best. Not good actions, nice words, consistent tithing, church attendance, or even (gasp!) fiery blogs. What do people see in your life? Do you want to show Christ to others? Show them your journey. Not some plateau of compromises and interpretations. And yes, I'm writing this to myself. 

Jerusalem Peace Treaty

I, the undersigned, do swear to take upon myself the action and consequence of all wrongdoing for all mankind. I do swear to fulfill all consequential obligation to debts held by all wrongdoing. My action, and the bearing of this punishment of death shall hereto render all debt against wrongdoing fulfilled for all time, for all people. I alone can stand in this place, as I am blameless and have fulfilled all obligation to law and duty. My desire in doing this is so that those parties involved in wrongdoing may yet have access to relationship with my Father through Me. 
I do swear to defeat evil, death, and the grave through this action I will undertake, and by this defeat, guarantee access to eternal life and the same level of victory for all who follow Me. I do swear that I will give over My Life, that others who follow Me should have access to this same Life by relinquishing control of their own lives. I do this for no other reason than to offer this gift of Life to each and every person for all eternity. I do hereby swear this, and cover and sign this Treaty with My Blood. 


Signed, 


Jesus Christ

Rite of Passage

This is a very broad topic, and I may well end up with many many posts on it.

 A couple of close friends are processing the idea of a rite of passage that can be offered to those men (of any age) who feel they would like to mark their passage to manhood with a distinct rite of passage. 

I have processed this idea a bit for my two sons as well. They're obviously too young now to understand any of that, but in time, they will be ready. As their father, and as the leader of their family, I need to be the one to call them to the rite of passage. That led me to this thought:


There are always 2 people involved in any rite of passage. First, the young man who is ready to go through this ritual. Second, the one who stands in a role of authority over this young man. This leader, father, chief, king, etc, has but one criteria he must have fulfilled to sit in this position of authority. He must have already completed the ritual. If there is no one present who has completed the ritual, the young man attempting the rite has no guidance, no inspiration, no challenge. The rite of passage simply cannot happen without both of these people in place. 

Perhaps this can be viewed as somewhat of an indictment on men in Western society in general. Books like Eldredge's Wild At Heart and others eschew the fact that men have been largely neutered by the pressures of western society. How men are portrayed in film, in the media, in general, is not often very glorifying. One wonders if many men in today's age have not really truly undergone a rite of passage because they have not had a leader standing on the other side of the bed of burning coals, arms crossed with a viking expression on their faces, challenging them to pass the ritual because they have already done so, as their fathers before them did. 

For my part, I want to be that father to my boys. More importantly, I want them to know that God desires for them to go through a holy rite of passage in their journey to become the men He wants them to be. 


I will see my sons grow up to be mighty men of God. To do that, they need a rite of passage. They must slay the dragon, win the maiden, and walk across the bed of coals. Then they will be able to look their sons' in their eyes and issue the challenge to them. 

An Old Friend....

An old family member is leaving us today, headed for a scrap yard somewhere. 

Our Jeep is finally getting junked. It's a sad day, honestly, because this vehicle has been so faithful for us. We purchased this vehicle in 2002 from Clyde Vest at Vest Auto Sales in North KC. He won the prize because he needed no credit check, and took monthly payments that we could manage. Prior to this purchase, we owned a 1988 Chevy Cavalier 4 door with 418K on it. The floorboards had rotted through in the back, and we could see daylight under our seats. When that died, we purchased the Jeep. The first thing Priscilla and I did when we took the Jeep from the lot was to drive over to Johnson county and drive slowly through neighborhoods, looking at all the fancy homes. We always felt the glares and stares of people when we did that in the Cavalier. So we cruised. It was awesome. 

Over the course of the last 10 years, that Jeep developed a number of cosmetic and electronic ticks, but it started every time, and ran well. The straight 6 engine is still one of the easiest to work on. They're practically bulletproof.

However, this vehicle wasn't totally without fault, and those faults were often very curse-inducing. I've decided, in celebration of her life, to list some of the little nuances of our life with Old Faithful. 

Something in the climate of this area of the midwest gives lead to a lot of corrosion buildup on the battery terminals. We got stranded several times with this issue. When we finally learned how to cope with it, it was as simple as wiggling the positive lead wires going into the clamp on the terminal. Old Faithful would spring back to life. We came to call this the "Lazarus" move. 

Electrical issues were a minor inconvenience which got worse and worse over the life of the Jeep. At first, we had a few scares when the on-board computer display read "Engine Oil Level Low". Several sessions with the code reader finally alerted us to an electrical fault in the sensor, buried IN the engine block itself. Since I didn't want to pull the whole engine for a sensor, we moved on, and checked oil levels regularly. 

Electrical pt 2 - Out of the clear blue sky one day, my CD player stopped working. For those of you that know me, you know that equates to my world stopping. I checked fuses, wiring, traced the whole carriage as far as I could, all to no avail. I remember long days sitting in traffic on 71 in the August heat, windows down, with no music to comfort me. I resorted to listening to my iPod on longer drives, as dangerous as that was. 

Electrical pt 3 - the horn. This developed a little later on, when the Jeep amazed us with a newly discovered ability to honk the horn whenever I would switch the high beams on or off. An inconvenience at best, at least until one day we pulled up to a stop sign on Byars Rd. A young man was waiting to cross in front of us, so I waved him on as we came to a stop. As he got right in front of the Jeep, the horn went off on its own, a good 2 second blast. He jumped, I jumped, Priscilla crawled under the front seat to hide, and it all went downhill from there. When we got home, I reached under the car and disconnected the wiring leads to the horn. No more voice for Old Faithful. 

Electrical pt 4 - the on board computer informed us regularly that one or more lamps was out in different locations on the vehicle. (Tail light, reverse lamps, brake lights, turn signals, license plate, etc.) We learned to ignore this, but it made things difficult when one of those lamps did actually go out. A friendly Leawood police woman helped remind me of that with a ticket. I swallowed the cost of the ticket, knowing she didn't care to hear that fixing the problem would require a complete redo of the entire wiring system of the Jeep, a $1500 job. 

The windshield washer fluid motor died fairly early on, about 6 years ago. Shortly after that, the reservoir cracked, so I took it completely out in the hopes of purchasing another one. Ironically, the wipers worked on it the whole time. They lost the ability to work on intermittent, but still had normal and fast operation. Winters, with the salt on the road, made travel difficult. Several trips to Colorado and Canada during the winter months saw us pulled over on the side of the road, scooping snow onto the windshield to act as washer fluid. 

The AC only worked for 3 years. We tried to get it recharged, but it just never ran cold. Eventually, something got stuck in the system, and the heater was always on. Even in the summer. You couldn't shut it off. The worst part of that was taking a phonecall when you were driving, because you'd have to roll up the windows to hear anything. Brutal. 

The oil pressure gauge stopped working, the engine temperature gauge stopped working, and the fuel gauge stopped working. The engine eventually started leaking oil quite a bit. To the tune of 2 quarts a week by the end. 

The paint job on the Jeep was horrible, a fact attributed to (apparently) a bad primer coating at the factory. It was a little past the warranty period by the time I bought it, so we lived with it. The paint chipped and peeled off, and the entire roof rusted quite quickly. 

The rear bumper rusted so badly at its joints that the left side fell down off the frame. The only thing holding the bumper on was a towing hitch that I installed a few years ago. 

The headliner started to get little holes in it from wear and tear. This I attribute to my kids. I also attribute to them the ripping that took place, even under pain of death threats. 

The doors on the Jeep had a bad design feature in that they started to droop on their hinges after several years. This led to the lock mechanism getting damaged, and eventually the whole clasp system being pushed into the sheet metal. This meant the door could not latch shut. At all. In fact, after we replaced the driver door (to the tune of $650 + labour) we resorted to using bandanas to tie the doors shut on the Jeep. If the bandana wasn't in place, the door would swing wide open going around a corner. It was always fun leaving a store or church or somewhere and watching the looks from people as Cilla and I lowered our windows front and back by 8 inches, threw our bandanas around the door posts, tied them shut, and rolled the windows back up. I think people figured we were flying gang signs. 

The faceplate around the center console of the car snapped from repeated vibrations, and it would always get caught in the shifter, often jamming and scraping my knuckles when I put it in reverse. 

Another factor for us was the fact that our family didn't fit in the Jeep. Not since we had 3 kids had it worked to safely transport the family. We purchased a 2002 Mountaineer in 09, used it for 6 months, and then it broke down for most of the time between then and last October. While we were making payments on our Mountaineer sitting lumped in our driveway, we still drove the family around in the Jeep. 2 older kids in the back, 3 younger in the seats, and Cilla and I. 

Sigh. Despite all these things, Old Faithful was exactly that. Other than things like starters, alternators, radiators, brakes, hub assemblies, etc, I never had to do any heavy engine or drivetrain work on it. It leaked oil, yes, but we stayed on top of it. Both Cilla and I checked oil levels all the time, and we added oil as needed. There were many points where it would start running like a diesel, chuffing and puffing smoke, and stuttering. We'd pull into a gas station, add 4 quarts of oil, and be off running as smooth as ever. Amazing engine. That Jeep just really wouldn't quit. Right up until it sat for a few months when the tags expired last October, it started every time you turned the key. The engine was definitely getting rougher, but still strong. The transmission and 4WD system worked fine every time we needed it, which meant a lot to me when I had to be out of town and Cilla and the kids were driving in the snow.  Despite its numerous flaws, it is still the most comfortable vehicle I have ever driven, trumping even an S Class Mercedes I drove because of it's higher stance and visibility. The Jeep made it all the way to 323K miles. Pretty crazy. What's really wild is that last year, also out of the clear blue sky, the CD player started working again. Just decided to one day. Awesome. 

We love that Old Faithful Jeep. But it's not only because it was a great vehicle for us. At times, it felt like our worst enemy. No, we love it because it was the tangible presence of God's provision for us sitting in our driveway. In some ways, God spoke to us through that vehicle. I'll get you where you're going. Trust me. Of course, it let us down many times, and God never has. But that Jeep in our driveway gave us so much cause to be thankful. It forced us on our faces in gratitude when we would drive past broken down and abandoned cars on the side of the road, many of them newer and shinier than the Jeep. 

The Jeep was (and is) also a summary of our time in KC. When we moved here in 2001, we never imagined we would last this long here. Yet, like the Jeep, our lives have kept on going here. Our lives have had their share of doors falling off and oil leaks, but we are here because of God's grace, and by His leading. 

Today we said goodbye to the Jeep finally. It has been sitting on the roadside since last October. 

The brakes finally gave out, and we spent Halloween driving my brother-in-law John's Jeep. We had run out of options. Our family vehicle was getting a new engine, but was still in the shop. The Jeep was done, tags expired, and wouldn't pass a safety inspection even if we bribed someone. But God, like He always does, had something up His sleeve. In 48 hours, we went from no Jeep to a 2002 Mountaineer, AND a 2000 Windstar, a HUGE gift from some close friends.

Gone are the days of the Jeep. It is sad today, as we close the 10 year era of what God has done in our lives. But we look ahead to the next 10 with assurance that God is with us, still directing us. And yes, the next work vehicle I buy will be another Jeep Grand Cherokee. 

DISTRUST = NORMAL

Like most of the known world of social media, my wife and I recently watched the movie about Joseph Kony, the leader of the LRA in Central Africa. 

The movement, started by the people behind the Invisible Children film, is purposed to make Kony famous, not by celebrating him, but by raising awareness of his heinous crimes to an international platform. So many of my FB friends, many of whom are very jaded towards this kind of stuff, have been spreading the video. It has gone completely viral.


Along with it, there have been plenty of comments, links, and blogs which have pointed out a variety of purported fallacies and shady dealings of the KONY 2012 non-profit. A lot of these have bordered on vicious. Obviously, the people who have posted these comments have gone to lengths to "research" and vet out this non-profit. Some of their points may be valid, but it serves to shed light on another angle for me. 


Why is it that in this day and age it seems that people's natural reaction to anything charitable or anything which tugs on emotions with a gripping story is viewed with distrust? I think that we should be wise, and informed, with our charitable decisions. But the comments and blogs that I read were simply meant to attack and discredit this non-profit. A non-profit that is WORKING TO END THE BRUTAL MASSACRE OF INNOCENT CHILDREN. If any of these people had put the same effort into joining this movement, and spreading the word further, imagine how much further along this would be. 


Let's go a step further than that. Imagine if this same natural distrust had existed back during WWII. What would it say about the US as a nation if the response to Hitler's brutal campaign against Jews, and his total domination of most of Europe, had been a natural distrust of the movement to declare war on Germany? Would we react the same way on Facebook during WWII when we saw comments which called into question any article which shed light on Hitler's holocaust? What would we do if we saw calloused responses on Facebook to horrific pictures of the genocide that took place there? Would we stand idly by? Would we say that those people are entitled to their opinions? 


I don't propose that we go around and post-jump on everything that detracts from KONY2012. But I do think it is very discouraging that we live in a time where distrust is indeed the norm. What a difference it would make if people's natural reaction was outrage, followed by action! 
When we see injustice, we need to do everything in our power to snuff it out. Not because of religion, belief system, color, race, or political affiliation, but for the ones suffering from that injustice. 


Instead of digging around for any little dirt clod to fling at the backs of the soldiers on the frontlines, pick up your sword and fight. If distrust is the norm, then we need to go against the norm. That, after all, is what we are called to do. 

Seriously?

I just received a newsletter from a close friend that is hoping to go on a missions trip, and is looking to raise support. While I am planning to support this person in their effort, the newsletter itself brought to the surface some discontent simmerings that I've been processing for a long time. 

The newsletter itself was a typical church youth group newsletter. It had the feel of a form letter that a youth pastor printed up, and emailed to his group with instructions to change their names to personalize it. It contained info on the specifics of what the group would be doing, as well as information on the country that the group was headed to. This is one of my bones of contention. In this day of the Information Age, I am well aware of a lot of different social, political, and economic scenarios in many different countries. As someone who travels and works in many of these same places, I try as much as possible to stay informed on current conditions. Many times, I have friends in those countries who are deeply affected by said conditions. I don't need a formfed newsletter to tell me what I should know about a country. It sounds to me like Mr. Youth Pastor copied the Wikipedia article about the country. Not very inspiring. Next, the letter is worded to boldly ask for me to "consider supporting" this young person. Here's the thing. Knowing this young person wants to go on a mission trip is very inspiring and exciting to me, because I have a heart for missions, and a heart for that young person. It comes from relation-ship with this person, and my desire to see them experience the world beyond their doorstep. So, asking for money in this newsletter is pointless. If I have relationship with this person, then I will support them with everything I can. If I don't, then I honestly have no interest at all in supporting them. 


Anyways, the newsletter goes on to detail how we can support this person in their endeavor. In fact, the largest chunk of the newsletter is spent on what we need to "prayerfully" do and how we can do it. This one goes so far as to challenge with specific amounts. "We need you to give a one-time gift of $250, or $100, or blah blah blah." Which is to say, "we want you to pray about what God would have you give, but we already know what He's going to say." 


Ok. I'll stop blasting this stupid letter and focus on what I think the real point is. While I was working with YWAM on a full-time basis, I had to raise my own support (which I was gloriously unsuccessful at...) to cover my monthly expenses as well as my traveling. I hated it, because it felt so corny. My parents were full-time missionaries for 18 years, and, through their home church in Canada, had a network of many people who had supported them. I spent the first couple years of my YWAM career working on a newsletter that I sent out quarterly to over 200 people. Of all of those newsletters and money spent on printing, stamps, etc, I had 4 people who supported me during my YWAM time. One of those were my folks. After a couple years of sending out fancy full color newsletters with return envelopes and prayer cards, I stopped. The funny thing is, the people who were supporting me kept on supporting me. So it caused me to stop and really take stock of the whole support thing. It dawned on me that the real key to support is relationship. If I know and love someone, and they express a heart to go and do something, of course I will support them. Automatically. Not only that, but I will go out of my way to tell others about what they're doing, so that other people can get stoked on it too. Ask me sometime about my friends Justin and Hella Song. Seriously. Priscilla and I support them because we love them, and we love what they're doing, not because they put together a great newsletter (which they did). 


You see, newsletters are for accounting firms and schools. They are designed to give certain information to certain people. Newsletters are impersonal and they don't speak of relationship. My little revelation in YWAM really helped me. While I traveled with YWAM, we mostly stayed in host homes. If it was a nice host home, where the host family was quite well off, the discussion often turned towards finding a way to get them on board as supporters. This never sat well with me, and I got tired of being made to feel like I was missing out by not dropping hints, leading conversations, and, well, manipulating our hosts into supporting us. There was one guy in particular whose monthly income from supporters was over $4000. He was unbelievably manipulative, and used every opportunity he could to make people feel they were almost sinning to not support him and his family. To make matters worse, he worked a job outside of YWAM to augment what his supporters brought in. What interested me about this guy in particular was his approach with supporters. He gained supporters quite rapidly, but lost them just as quickly. He told me once that if you focused on gaining more supporters each month than you lost, you were ahead of the game. It felt like a sales pitch. There was nothing there that spoke of relationship. Only dollar signs. It still disgusts me to this day. 


Social media is another aspect to this whole thing. Facebook and Twitter gives us the chance to keep up on a daily basis (if we choose) with the ones we have some level of relationship with. All of the people who we support as missionaries are good close friends of our on Facebook. This has eliminated the need for a newsletter almost completely. It caters to relationship. You don't have to sit and write a letter, take it to the post office, and figure out postage to Brasil. You can hop online and often times you can chat live with your friend even though they're halfway across the planet. Awesome!


So - my advice to the young person headed out on a mission trip. Instead of writing a newsletter, TALK TO YOUR FRIENDS. If they're able to help out, they'll be stoked to do so. If they can't, they'll tell you. And when they say they will pray for you, it is genuine. If you are facing needs, financial or otherwise, then communicate that to your friends. If it needs to be a letter, or an email, or whatever, then write it from a perspective of relationship. Write it as if you were sitting in a coffeeshop talking face to face with the person. Leave out all the BS. If someone wants to know more about the country you're going to, and what their median income is, they will ask. They don't need to know all the crap. They don't need a sales pitch. They need (and want) to hear your heart. That's it. Be yourself, talk to the people who love you, and let God do what He is best at. 

Drink Hot Sake. Trust me.

So today was my 39th birthday. Most of the time when my birthday rolls around it's on Superbowl Sunday, or close enough to it that we combine parties. This time around was mid-week, so I thought I'd capture my very full day here for posterity's sake. 


Woke up at 6:45 to get ready to go play basketball. For most of you, you won't remember how much I used to play ball. While I was still living in Canada back in the 90s, I played ball as much as I could. Literally. I was never amazing, but pretty good and consistent. When I moved to the States, I got so busy with music that I didn't have much time to play any more. The occasional game with Island Breeze boys, just quick short shoot-arounds. I missed it. Fast forward to now. Tyler Simpson tells me he's got a game every Wednesday morning with some friends. I'm in. I hadn't bought a pair of basketball shoes in over 12 years until 2 weeks ago. He picks me up, we head over, and we play from 8-10am.

 Man, it felt great. I was dog-tired, and I was easily the worst player on the court, but we ran a lot, I handled the ball well, passed well, and shot poorly. I was expecting a poorly grade on everything, honestly, accompanied by throwing up my lung on the bench. It was a good set of games, and it was a great feeling. I'm looking forward to getting more and more game time, perhaps even trying to find another game on a different day. We'll see. Baby steps. 


After that, I got home and rolled around on the floor with my 5 kids. Such a gift, even just that. I got to play Lego Pirates of the Caribbean with Trevan for a while, and we even got True Pirate on one level. Very difficult to do. Few people can. 

Cilla and I decided to take the kids to Thai House for lunch, which was (as always) amazing. Cahira, our brave adventurer and food connoisseur, decided on Tom Yum seafood soup. Not too hot, but spicy. She rocks my world. The other 4 kids had chicken satay, which they loved as well. Cilla had Panang Curry with chicken, and I had Massaman Curry. We both ordered ours hot. Even Vanden had a blast, munching down his satay and rice. The staff there were so super nice, and the food has consistently been amazing, after 10+ times there.


After lunch, we headed over to Freedom Park, just by the Grandview Courthouse. Cilla dropped the 4 older kids and I off there, and took Vanden home to nap. We played for a while on the swings, then walked over to Buel McDonald's house and hung out with him while he played with his 140lb English Mastiff, Angel. Great dog. Cilla and Vanden showed up, and we all took off for home. Did a bit of cleaning up, and at 6:30 Joe showed up to babysit for us. He's a member of our family, and lived with us for almost 2 years as well, so the kids all know and love him so much. We gave the kiddos some mac & cheese, and headed out the door for my birthday dinner. 


We had purchased a couple of groupons to a place called Edokko, a Japanese restaurant and sushi garden. What a great place!! We love Edokko, and have loved it for about 3 years now.

We had Black Dragon Roll, Geisha Roll, Spicy Yellowtail Roll, Spicy Tuna Roll, and Spicy Salmon Roll. Great, great sushi. At least for the midwest. 










Also, we ordered an appetizer of Kobe beef. Neither Cilla or I had ever had it before. My life literally changed tonight. I've never eaten anything in my life quite as incredible as Kobe beef. Unbelief.

Anyways, we also split a large hot sake. IMPORTANT NOTE - DO NOT ATTEMPT TO EAT ANY FOOD OF JAPANESE ORIGIN WITHOUT AN ORDER OF HOT SAKE. Just sayin. Sushi, Hibachi, Kobe, whatever. Drink Hot Sake. Trust me, you'll thank me. 












After dinner we headed over to Starbucks on Stateline, because (inexplicably) Dunn Bros on Holmes was closed (FAIL).  Sat in big leather comfy chairs and just drank coffee and talked. Intelligent adult conversation with no interruptions and no diapers. Amazing. 
Then we headed back home, about 9:30 or 10. Joe had put all the kids to bed except Cahira, which is impossible to do before midnight anyways, so I gave him a ride home. 


My legs are sore from b-ball, my stomach is full from a plethora of amazing food, and my heart is full from one of the best birthdays in my memory. Of course, my memory is due to start declining next year. Maybe that's why I'm feeling to write all this down. Haha!