Friday, December 14, 2012

A Time to Weep


Today there is weeping. Not just crying, but weeping. A weeping that comes because there is no other way to adequately express what is going on inside of us. When we feel sorrow beyond words, we weep.

Today, sadly, we weep for children.

These children who lost their lives today in Connecticut were not my children. I don’t even know their names. But they could have been my children. Or yours. We can't even begin to imagine what living that horror must be like.

And so we weep.

Senseless acts such as this are heard of far too often. Perhaps at times we are guilty of having grown horribly and inexcusably numb to hearing about it.

But today was different.

Today was Kindergarten.

We do not know all the details, and we don’t have to know them. I don't care if I ever know them.

All I need to know is that Today we will grieve with these families, we will pray for them, and we will weep with them. These were American kids at an American school that experienced what should never ever be. These are all the details I need to know.

I am reminded of an old hymn by Albert Midlane:

"There’s a Friend for little children Above the bright blue sky, A Friend who never changes, Whose love will never die;"

And then I remembered that Jesus wept. Jesus wept specifically for a friend who had died. And then I thought that somewhere today, Jesus must be weeping. It has been said that there is a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow, that He knows and dearly loves every one of them, and that not one falls without His knowing. Each life is precious.

In this dark hour, we know that there is hope waiting at the end of tragedy.

We know sorrow will one day give way to peace.

But for today, we pray for comfort, we offer comfort, and we weep.

Monday, December 03, 2012

Pulling Weeds and Planting Men


  It may sound strange, but I am thankful for weeds.

Weeds are a fact of life. Like unwelcome visitors, they show up unannounced and make themselves right at home, spurning the fact that they were not invited. As men, we take pride in our lawns, and each year millions of dollars are spent on products that claim to rid our otherwise pristine properties of these pesky intruders. Yet despite our best efforts, they just keep coming back.

With the holidays approaching, and Christmas decorations anxiously waiting to go on display, I planned one last ‘weekend cleanup’ of our front yard. Most of that cleanup would involve clearing out our flowerbeds, which have been actively overrun by these un-welcome visitors, and mowing the lawn one last time until Spring.

So when Saturday morning arrived I told my two boys that we would be doing lawn work, and surprisingly they didn’t run away in disgust. I anticipated a backlash, but they were actually excited about doing it. Which baffled me a little bit, but I didn’t complain. Maybe they just like the idea of getting dirty without being in trouble for it.

Who knows?

My wife actually had the crazy idea that I should let my oldest son mow the yard, which I hadn’t even thought of before. I have been so used to doing it myself for decades that I didn’t even notice how excited he was at the prospect of it, or that he was old enough.

So, after a cup of coffee, and wearing my oldest, junkiest ripped up jeans and an old, itchy flannel shirt that was once my Dad's, I got down in the dirt with my boys and we went to work on this crisp Autumn day. By the time we came back in, we were dirty, tired and hungry, but we had a few bags full of weeds and a mowed lawn to show for it. But thinking about it now, we had much more than that.

For starters, my oldest son mowed the lawn by himself for the first time. There is a certain pride in that, and I can remember to this day the first time I mowed when I was a kid. It is a milestone of sorts to push that mower I had seen my Dad push so many times.

I showed my youngest son that it is possible to get filthy dirty, dig around in the yard looking for night crawlers, and still be working.

I showed them that I see worth and value in who they are by letting them do work, and expecting they can do it just as well as I can. We told stories and laughed, and I have officially passed down to them the fine skills of pulling weeds and mowing the lawn. Which I will readily remind them of next summer.

As Dads, it is our job to build up our children, and this Saturday became an unexpected opportunity to do just that. Working together with our kids, teaching them even small things, and telling them stories about when we were kids, accomplishes this in a small way.

Which is why I am thankful for weeds.

(Previously published at http://playgrounddad.com/pulling-weeds-and-planting-men/)

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Touchdown Breakdown (or, How to Win in the New NFL).


A thorough and scientific dissection of the now infamous Touchception. Intended for instructional purposes only. Adapted from Monday Night Football September 24, 2012, Seattle WA.

1. Go ahead and start with a pass interference penalty to get that pesky defender out of your way. It's cool; no one's watching.


2. Do the Hokey-Pokey (you put your right arm out)


3. If you still can't catch the ball, at least catch the guy who did catch the ball.


4. Ask a teammate to tug the facemask of the guy who caught the ball. This will cause neck strain, and may possibly result in him releasing the ball.


5. DON'T SKIP THIS IMPORTANT STEP! Before you start, make sure that the referees are locked out, and that these are just replacement guys.


6. T-O-U-C-H-D-O-W-N!!!!!! Celebrate what you have accomplished!


Tuesday, September 04, 2012

Ready or Not, It's Autumn!

It is again September, and with the start of September comes the end of Summer. And the end of Summer can be elusive, but look beyond a passing glance and it is hard to miss.

The Olympic flame has been extinguished; the venues now empty and the athletes gone home.

The local pools, brimming over with laughter just days ago now sit silent and still.

School supply aisles are slowly dwindling, leaving the shelves exposed and bare, reminding us that the oak branches in the park will soon follow suit.

Children have reluctantly exchanged the playgrounds for the school grounds, and along with their teachers they have already begun the long countdown to Thanksgiving.

Craft stores have again been beautifully transformed from the typical summer fare into vibrant hues of harvest oranges and radiant golds.

And The Boys of Fall eagerly grasp for the baton as the Boys of Summer make their way around the glorious final lap.

Lazy Summer life begins to settle into a routine. And just like that, Autumn is upon us.

Autumn is a unique season. It symbolizes endings turned to beginnings. To me, this Autumn is particularly unique, as it marks my oldest child starting high school, and my youngest leaving the preschool. Just two more examples of endings turned to beginnings. And so it goes. . .

But ready or not, Autumn has come! To be sure, today’s morning walk still doesn’t quite feel like an Autumn walk, but Autumn is so much more than just temperature. Close your eyes and breathe the not-quite-yet-Autumn air and you will sense it; barely detectable, but undeniably present. Because Autumn is a state of mind.

For many of us, the mercury still stubbornly clings to the ninety degree mark and refuses to accept the inevitable. Regardless, Autumn has always proven to be patient, and will graciously allow these last few balmy days of September to slowly dwindle away in their own time. And soon Autumn will allow the Winter season to drop in a little early. But Autumn is easygoing, and doesn't seem to mind.

Autumn is campfires and college football, russet-lavender sunrises and flaming golden sunsets, cozy warm sweatshirts and cool evening breezes. Autumn is a familiar bird finding its way once again to your backyard, stopping for a moment on her way back to her annual vacation. Autumn is grey rainy afternoons, and fond memories of raking up leaves into tidy neat piles, just to jump in and spread them around the lawn again.

But above all, Autumn marks another chance at a new beginning. And for many of us a new beginning is just what we have been looking for.

Ready or Not, Autumn is here.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Koncert 2 Kolkata

Lord, I will go anywhere you send me and do anything you ask. Just please don’t send me to ______________. Admit it, we have all had this thought. But from what I have learned, God has a funny way of sending us where He wants us anyway, and we have a funny way of being used by Him, and finding ourselves blessed when He sends us.

Last January, my wife and daughter went to Kolkata, India to work with victims of human trafficking, through a partnership of our church with the International Justice Mission. From what I have seen and heard, Kolkata is not a real clean place. In fact, it is very much the opposite. Mother Teresa gained worldwide popularity simply for her willingness to stay there and work with the poorest of the poor. The slums of Kolkata are a rough place, and very different from the suburban life most of us here are living.

Seriously. Very, very different.

But my daughter loves it and can’t wait to go back. It is a challenging ministry both physically and emotionally, but God has simply filled her heart with the people of Kolkata.

If you are not familiar with human trafficking, or the International Justice Mission, you need to be. This is a widespread problem throughout our world today, and it doesn’t just happen overseas. Shockingly, there are more slaves in the world today than at any time in history, with estimates ranging from 12 million to 27 million. The number is hard to pin down, as it is so widespread. My wife and daughter traveling to India isn’t going to change that number very much. But if the number decreases even by one, it is more than worth it. If one girl rescued from slavery knows that she is loved and that she is valuable, it is worth it.

Traveling to the other side of the world isn’t cheap, however, and we started brainstorming ways to get there. Here’s what we came up with: I was a professional touring musician once, and have put on an event or two. My daughter Rachael and I have sang together several times before, and so we decided to call up the some of the very best musicians I know, put together a great band and do it for a cause - a Koncert 2 Kolkata.

Our goal is to raise the funds for this trip, raise awareness for the people we are going to help, and honor God in doing it. If you are in the Katy/Houston area, I encourage you to come out! There is no charge, just give as you feel led to give. For more info, or to find out about VIP tickets, go to our page at koncert2kolkata.wordpress.com, and be sure to visit the event page on facebook. If you can’t make it, you can still go to the page and see how you can help! God is faithful, and He often accomplishes great things through His people. Thank you for your help in getting the message of hope to these girls in Kolkata!

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Kids say the darndest things.

But more often than not, kids say things that sound an awful lot like what their parents say. Our kids look up to us, respect us, and learn from us. They get their social cues by mimicking ours, and in many respects, this can be a great blessing.

For example, I make it a point to always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and there is nothing as great as hearing my children do the same. In fact, I no longer need to prompt them to do it, and I am blessed when others tell me how polite my children are.

But then again, there was that time we were at a traffic light, and the car in front of us was not exactly quick about going when the light turned green. From his booster seat, my youngest son yelled out, “Come on man! Green means go!”

I knew right away exactly where he had heard it, and it did not sound so great coming from him.

Our kids spend time with us, and so they sound like us. So how do we make sure that we speak the way we want them to speak?

Matthew 26:73 relates a story that is familiar to many of us. In this passage, Jesus has been arrested, and Peter is fearfully trying to keep his distance, and pretending he doesn’t even know Him. Peter was able to deny it to the first two accusers. But a third accuser said “Surely you too are one of them; for even the way you talk gives you away.”

Some scholars say that this could refer to Peter’s Galilean accent, which was different from the accents spoken in Jerusalem. But what is most striking is simply that Peter spoke like one who had been with Jesus. The way he talked made it clear that he was a disciple.

There was no hiding it.

Even in denial, his voice was clearly the voice of “one of them”. He had simply spent so much time with Jesus, that he could not hide it in his voice.

The lesson for us?

Spend time in the Word, spend time in prayer, and you too will begin to sound like Jesus. Because our kids say things that sound an awful lot like what we say.

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

For Love of the Games

For most of this week, my family has been immersed in the quadrennial ritual known as the Olympics. I absolutely love it, and it is a firm rule in my house that if the TV is on, we are watching Olympic events of some kind. It is one of the few times of the year that the kids are expected to watch too much TV, and are not allowed to go to bed before 11:00. But what is it about the Olympics that draws us in?

For starters, the Olympics are educational. It is fun to learn about the nations that are competing. For example, this is the only time that I have any interest whatsoever in the nation of Djibouti (Yes, it is pronounced Ja-Booty). Apparently fellow St. Louis native Bob Costas has the same humor as I do. As the six-member team representing Djibouti entered the auditorium in the parade of nations, Costas said, "If there was an award for country name that makes you smile, Djibouti would win the gold.”

He didn’t need to say it; I was already smiling.

A few days later I decided I would check in and see how the athletes from Djibouti were doing. I found that Yasmin Harah Hasan represented Djibouti in women’s table tennis early on in the games. Unfortunately, she lost 0-4 to Brazil’s Caroline Kumahara (ouch!), and with that loss, Yasmin’s Olympic dreams are over.

I guess you could say Brazil whooped Djibouti.

Aside from table tennis competition, Djibouti was in the pool, Djibouti was on the Judo mat, and three athletes will be showing off the best of Djibouti in the track and field events in the coming days. You know you don’t want to miss that. Djibouti’s only previous Olympic medal came as a Men’s Marathon bronze in the 1988 Olympics, and anything is possible!

More importantly, the Olympics are a history that unites us. The whole world is watching, and what happens today won’t happen again. The athletes that are at the games now may or may not be back in four years.

If there is a Jesse Owens moment


a Mary Lou Retton moment

or a Kerri Strug moment

I want to be watching it happen. Those moments are still moving, and I want to share in that history as it unfolds, not just hear about it the next morning.

The Olympics invite us to invest emotionally in the history that is happening as it is happening.

I didn’t know much about gymnast Jordyn Wieber a month ago, but my heart broke for her when she failed to qualify for the gymnastics “all-around”. And when Michael Phelps swims his final lap as an Olympian this week, I’m sure I will experience the bittersweet moment right along with him. So will a few hundred million of my closest friends. These will become the great, “hey, do you remember when!” stories from Olympics past.

For these few short weeks, the world is watching athletes from homelands great and small who have earned the right to proudly represent their nation.

For these few short weeks, bitter rivals are gracious in victory and in defeat; they share a mutual respect because they know what it takes to be there. They know what it takes to be Olympians.

For these few short weeks we will hear words like Effort, Integrity, Determination, Sportsmanship, Character, and Perseverence more often than usual, and that is a good thing.

The way I see it, we can all learn something from that.






Thursday, July 26, 2012

The Heart of Worship

A few years back, Matt Redman wrote the song “Heart of Worship”, which is at its core an apology for making worship just “a song”, and this song is lyrically right on the mark.

The terms ‘praise’ and ‘worship’, as used today, almost always bring to mind a particular style of music in a church service. We often hear questions like, “what is the worship like at your church?”, or “how was worship today?” Sadly, some of most bitter disagreements in the Church as a whole have been concerning music, and these typically miss the point of what worship really is.

When searching the Scriptures for the true meanings of these two words in context, we are faced with something that shows that ‘praise’ and ‘worship’ are not synonymous with music, and are actually themselves two very distinct and separate ideas.

The word ‘worship’ as used in the Old Testament is most often translated from the Hebrew word shachah, meaning literally to depress, to bow down, or to prostrate oneself by falling flat. The Greek word proskuneo, translated as ‘worship’ in the New Testament, often carries a similar meaning. It is also the root of the word “prostrate” in our language, and it goes so far as to suggest “to kiss toward”.

The Biblical concept of worship then is one of complete prostration and submission to a Holy God. It is the purest form of reverence.

It is important to acknowledge that this word is not necessarily linked to singing; worship may be found in a lifestyle of humility and prayer, and in silent awe. Worship is at its core the realization of how great a chasm exists between us and God, and the great lengths to which our Messiah went to eliminate it.

The word ‘praise’, on the other hand, is used in a very different way. The words most typically found in the Old Testament are halal and yadah.

The word halal carries the connotation of joyful singing, boastfulness, and goes so far as to suggest acting foolish. It is the action of glorifying God, who is worthy of all honor, without any concern of what others may think. It is shouting from the rooftops, it is proclaiming Him loudly and without inhibition. It is a celebration of our Creator from the overflow of the heart.

Yadah carries a similar meaning of celebration, but is derived from a word that means ‘hand’, and oddly suggests throwing or the shooting of arrows. These two words help define praise as a celebration where the body of believers figuratively “throw” our praises towards a deserving Father.

And so praise and worship are two very distinct and different ideas.

We lift our hands to God in a physical expression of praise, and we bow silently in worship.

We celebrate in such a way that our voices shout in praise to Him, and we fall to our faces in worship, inspired and in awe of all that He is.

We enter His presence with joyful singing, and we reflect on his divine authority in complete submission.

We dance as David danced, and we cry out for mercy as David cried out.

And so the way I see it, when Matt Redman exclaimed that worship is “more than a song”, he was right on the mark.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

A Coffee Culture



Hello.  My name is Jason, and I drink coffee.
On Monday morning, my coffee is bold and black.  By mid-week, sugar and creamer are standard fare, and by Friday night, coffee resembles an ice-cream sundae, topped with cinnamon, chocolate and whipped cream.
But it wasn’t always that way. 
As a kid I was intrigued by coffee.  This drink was not recommended to the young or faint of heart. It was a ‘grown-ups only’ beverage. But even then there was no denying the allure of the Coffee Culture, or that I would someday join it.  Everyone had a coffee pot in the kitchen, and everyone had a coffee table in the living room.  Coffee was brewing over cinematic campfires, keeping cowboys warm on those frosty mornings on the range. It was brewing on Saturday mornings, when my grandparents would invite friends over to talk and partake of the mystic beverage.  It was plentiful every Sunday at church, and it was even present at school, where every teacher had a cup on their desk.   
As an adult it beckoned from the corner donut shops, and it was placed prominently in each break room of every place I have ever worked.  Every one of those jobs even came with government mandated ‘coffee breaks’.  Eventually I gave in to the alluring aroma and I haven’t looked back. 
Simply put, coffee is everywhere.
From a musician’s perspective, coffee shops are great places to perform.  Coffee people appreciate good music, and free coffee is always good payment.
Coffee is both comforting and invigorating. A freshly-brewed pot of coffee assures us that Juan Valdez is still out there somewhere sending us the finest beans in Columbia, that Peter will be home for Christmas, and that all kinds of meaningful conversation can still be had ‘over a cup of coffee’.  No matter what is going on in life, we can always talk about it over coffee.  
Coffee is the quiet player behind our national political heritage.  President Obama’s historical 2008 inaugural speech was written on a laptop at Starbucks in Washington D.C., and even Thomas Jefferson deemed coffee “the favorite drink of the civilized world”.  I can just imagine Jefferson writing the Declaration of Independence at a Philadelphia cafĂ©.  Over a cup of coffee.  And do we really think the rest of the Founding Fathers got through those late-night Congressional meetings without it?  
The great composer J. S. Bach was well-known as an avid coffee aficionado.  His whimsical piece, “The Coffee Cantata” was a satirical look at coffee addiction, which was apparently a scandalous social problem in 1732.  The unusual cantata contains memorable quips such as "How sweet coffee tastes! Lovelier than a thousand kisses, sweeter than Muscatel wine!", and" Without my morning coffee, I'm just like a dried up piece of roast goat." Admittedly not his finest work, and the roast goat analogy is indeed a bit disturbing, but what kind of lyrics do you expect the man to write after four cups of coffee?
Take a drive around most American cities, and you will notice there is a Starbucks on nearly every corner these days. Of course, most people prefer the ones with free wi-fi.  Because the morning brew of Ward Cleaver has even made itself a staple of our fast-paced technological world.   
Coffee is everywhere.
We celebrate over coffee, we wake up with coffee, we fall in love and break things off over coffee, we seek solitude and friendship over coffee. We pray, read, think, laugh, cry, work and play over coffee.   
Love it or hate it, we are a Coffee Culture, and coffee is not going away anytime soon. 
At least that’s the way I see it . . .


Thursday, July 05, 2012

Ever Heard of Carl Boberg?

         
         Ever Heard of Carl Boberg?

Our family is in the habit of having a daily worship time together, and one of the important parts of our worship time is to sing a hymn together.  Each Sunday night we sing a hymn and read about the story behind the song.  In a world filled with modern worship music, where a song from ten years ago can be deemed as “old”, it is refreshing to sing songs that have been around for so many years, and in some cases centuries.  The stories of how these songs came to us are amazing and often exciting.

For example, did you know that the song “I Know Whom I Have Believed” was written by a Union soldier during the Civil War, who was held as a prisoner of war and became a believer while praying for a dying soldier?
 
Or that the prolific hymn writer Fanny Crosby (over 8,000 hymns!) was blind from infancy, yet was able to memorize the first five books of the Bible, the four Gospels, the Proverbs, and most of the Psalms?

Which brings us to Carl Boberg.

Carl Boberg had recently quit his work as a sailor and was working as a lay-minister in his native Sweden (he would later go on to be a newspaper editor and a member of Swedish Parliament).  In 1885, he was inspired by the sound of church bells ringing during a wild thunderstorm, and penned the poem “O Great God”.

Although it was published, Boberg’s nine-verse poem didn’t really catch on, and it seemed destined to be all but forgotten.   However, someone out there liked it enough to match it with a traditional Swedish melody in 1888, and when Boberg found out, he published the poem and the music in his own newspaper in 1891. 

Fast forward to the 1930’s - English missionary Stuart Hine heard the song being sang (in Russian) while in Poland.  Deeply moved by the song, he translated it into English, changed the musical arrangement, some of the wording, and took it home with him to England.  In English, the song was called “How Great Thou Art”.     

On to the 1940’s - Evangelist Dr. Edwin Orr heard this new version of the song being sung by native tribal people in Assam, India, and inspired by it, he brought the song back to the States. 

In 1954 the song found its way into the hands of George Beverly Shea, who sang the song nearly 100 times during Billy Graham’s 1957 New York crusade. In 1959 it became the theme song for Billy Graham’s weekly radio broadcast, bringing “How Great Thou Art” into the national consciousness.

In 1978, the performing rights organization ASCAP named the song as “The All-Time Outstanding Gospel Song” in America.   It has consistently been listed as one of the greatest hymns ever written, usually falling at #2 (right behind Amazing Grace).

How astonishing that this song, recorded over 1,700 times in the last 50 years, had its origins as a poem in a small town in Sweden and somehow wound its way around the globe.  Carl Boberg would never know the influence of his song.  He died in 1940 – over a decade before “How Great Thou Art” became famous in New York City.  Like Carl, we also may never know which of our words or actions will influence the next century.  But we can bet in some way, large or small, they will.    

Such are the stories of hymns.

In our increasingly myopic world, songs like these and the stories behind them are an inspiration. The lives of those who penned them, how they penned them, and the reasons why help to build a bond of legacy with those who have gone before us, and those to come.  These songs now cease to be “old and boring”, but become suddenly relevant and filled with life; meaningful expressions of worship written by real people that we can relate to, understand, and appreciate.     

At least that’s the way I see it . . .