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Friday, October 16, 2015

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There's nothing like a famous divorce to sell newspapers. You know, people put together the words fault and divorce, and an American public collectively says, "Oh, tell me more! Whose fault? Tell me more! Put it in the newspapers! Put it on the news!" So the press obliges us, and rumors become front page headlines, especially as you're checking out of the supermarket. There are speculations about every gory detail: financial, historical, interpersonal, and extramarital.

Friday, October 9, 2015

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You'd think "teenager" is a disease instead of an age. I mean, the way parents talk about it when they suddenly have a teenager on their hands. You know, they get this apprehensive look on their face, and they say, "My daughter's about to be a teenager!" You can hear the pain in their voice; the fear. Thirteen is a tough year. Sometimes we want them to go away somewhere and come back like when they're fifteen or sixteen! Not really, we really do love them. But when kids navigate through junior high and those kind of years, parents often look at one another – my wife and I did – and say four letters which stand for four words, "T.T.S.P."

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

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I hope your world map, if you have one, is one you bought recently. Because the map is changing so rapidly! I remember when our daughter went on a Gospel music team a few years go - some years ago now - to Estonia, right after the breakup of the Soviet Republic. We didn't know a lot about it then. But it was one of the Baltic Republics that had become part of the Soviet Union and now was part of a great independents movement within the Soviet Union and then a country of their own. Well, then we were hearing about Estonians, and Latvians, and Lithuanians, and Palestinians, and Armenians, because the world isn't necessarily being defined any more by those national boundaries that somebody set up after a war sometime. The world is having an ethnic explosion! It's supposed to.

Monday, September 14, 2015

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I've lived long enough to see a lot of crashes. Not cars or planes - people. Actually, we see it in the news all too often don't we? Sometimes it happens to our teams that we root for. My football team, for example in the NFL went one year from the Super Bowl to a very embarrassing losing season. They had been at the top of the heap and they ended up at the bottom the next year. But we've watched heroes crash haven't we; pastors, Christian leaders, politicians, judges, athletes? We see it all the time. In fact, maybe you've heard some crashes in your own life.

Friday, September 4, 2015

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We had this van. It was a great van. It got us where we needed to go. It had been a reliable vehicle until this one trip. The van decided to take up heavy smoking. We had just arrived in this town where we would be staying, and suddenly the van began to smoke! Some good friends of ours directed us to a mechanic that we could trust. And he gave us the exciting news that our engine had blown and we needed to replace it. Well, after investigating all our options, we decided that those dollars would do more repairing our vehicle than replacing it, except we didn't have any dollars to put toward it.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

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My son had more bruises on his body than I've ever seen. He was playing freshman football, and he paid a price. I mean, the coaches ran him until he almost dropped. They ran the guys through all kinds of exercises-hitting, tackling, and sweating. And some guys actually quit because it was just too much. But finally, the games began, and they were winning. And after one of the games they had a great celebration coming back on the bus. They weren't thinking very much about their bruises, because they had just had a 20-0 shut out and they were keeping their winning streak in tact. And that afternoon, my son weighed the pain he's experienced against that pleasure. Now, what he concluded may help you weigh yours.

Friday, August 7, 2015

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Five-year-old Jeremy started school in the Fall, and it was more than he bargained for. It was his second morning of his kindergarten experience. Mom got Jeremy up and started helping him get ready. And then came this question, "Do I have to go back to school?" He wasn't counting on an encore. His rationale was, "Well, I already went yesterday." His mother told us, "I didn't have the heart to tell him he's got twelve more years of going to school." Well, he went off to day two - of year one - of twelve more years.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

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Since we're not all military types, it's probably good to explain what a beachhead is before we talk about one. A beachhead is not where the beach begins. And it's not a guy who just thinks about getting to the beach all the time. In wartime, a beachhead is pretty serious business. It's a small piece of ground that you try to take as your first step in taking all the ground that your enemy holds.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

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My friend Jim loves to wear this shirt that says, "I've been to the wilderness". That's what it says on the front. On the back it says, "I can handle anything." Sounds a little cocky maybe, but he did earn the right to wear the shirt. He went out on a two-week wilderness program where they pushed him, and all those on the trip, to go way beyond their limitations. Running for miles, climbing for hours with a heavy backpack, living off the land, blazing trails, enduring the heat, going solo for two days with almost nothing to live on. Hard? Yes. Fun? Not particularly. Worth it? Ask Jim. Or, better yet, read his shirt. "I've been to the wilderness. I can handle anything!"

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

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Man, did my wife and I grow up in two different worlds! While I was growing up in a little apartment on the South Side of Chicago, my future wife was living in the Ozarks in a tarpaper cabin, wallpapered with Montgomery Ward catalog pages to keep out the winter wind. They called that area "Trail's End", and it was. When her Dad got out of the service, his parents gave him some land where he literally bulldozed a road and then a lot out of the woods. I think my wife's early years sound a little like something out of Laura Ingalls Wilder or the Waltons, the old TV show.

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