Resolution.
Webster defines the word as being “marked by firm determination”.
The word dominates every New Year’s Eve. Each year we resolve to change careers. Get healthy. Make new friends. Earn more money. Be patient. Be assertive. The list goes on, and in just a few hours we will walk through the same old ritual once again.
What exactly is he doing? Why does he have only one ankle in a pool, and why is he wearing a helmet?
The answer speaks volumes, even to those of us who only dream of playing in the NFL.
For starters, Peyton Manning is the best at what he does.
He is a Super Bowl winner, and without question a first ballot Hall-of-Famer. He is an instantly recognizable “face of the League” to many, and represents all that is good about the NFL. In a league filled with controversies regarding player safety, criminal acts by players, cheating scandals, etc., he has consistently represented the positive ‘All-American’, ‘clean-cut’ side of football. He is a polite, humble, well-mannered guy who has consistently not only stayed out of trouble, but benefited many a worthy cause.
He is still at the top of his game after a neck injury that many thought would either end or severely impact his prolific career. Yet he has emerged in having what is perhaps his best year as a pro.
The point of saying all that is this – it didn't just happen that way. It took some serious effort and determination.
But back to that strange picture.
This photograph of Peyton Manning was taken during a Broncos practice. Having sustained an ankle injury, Peyton had to sit out of practice. His official listing was “did not participate”.
Unable to participate physically, he chose to participate mentally. He couldn't be on the field, but he could be active. He chose to keep his injured ankle in the “cold tub” in the team training room, and wear his helmet to listen in on practice and the plays that were called on the headset, while simultaneously studying game film on a tablet.
This is the guy who leads the league with 45 touchdowns. His team has the best record in the NFL (11-2). He has been a starting NFL QB since 1998.
These numbers didn’t come because he’s just ‘that good’. It appears to be because of his attitude, and using even down moments to improve his craft instead of resting on his laurels. This picture reflects a multi-tasking intensity that we could all apply to our life, whatever it is that we do. Do I pray with this determination? Do I apply it to my work or home life? Embrace this intensity, and strive to be a better husband, a better parent, better employee, a better driver, a better writer, a better friend. The list is extensive and personal.
In education, we often speak of the desire to see students become “lifelong learners”. I think Peyton Manning in this candid moment is a perfect model of that. A guy who continues to perfect his craft and keep his mind sharp on a day he could easily just do nothing and still keep his job and still be one of the best. No one but him would really know the difference. Right?
So to answer the question, what is he doing?
He’s doing exactly what I should be doing.
It's raining. It officially becomes Fall in a few days. I just bought a couple good books I am excited about reading. At church I am in the early stages of gearing towards the Christmas season. And in the sports world, Blues Hockey is about to get rolling, Cardinals Baseball is headed into the post-season, and Texans Football is well underway. This Early Autumn convergence of activities takes up a good deal of my attention. Love it.
This morning I was sitting in my living room watching the rain outside while doing a Bible Study. I am reading "Kingdom Man" by Tony Evans, and wholeheartedly recommend this book! A simple but significant passage caught my attention to the point that I wanted to share it :
"If you are a messed up man, you are going to contribute to a messed up family. If you're a messed up family, you are going to contribute to a messed up church. If you are a messed up church, you are going to contribute to a messed up community. If you're a messed up community, you're going to contribute to a messed up state. If you're a messed up state, you're going to contribute to a messed up country. If you're a messed up country, you're going to contribute to a messed up world.
The only way to have a better world made up of better countries composed of better states filled with better communities influenced by better churches and inhabited by better families is by becoming a better man. It starts with you."
Wow.
A needed reminder that as I enjoy my life, my life is not about my life. My life is about honoring God. And the simple things I do combined with the simple things others do ultimately impacts the type of world we live in and leave behind for the next generation.
FOOTBALL! It’s a game of inches! A Hundred Yard War! And yes, I am a serious football fanatic. As in, I count down the days to the supplemental draft fanatic.
What I love most about football is that every man on that field knows instinctively that the man next to him has his back. He has to know this. If he does not have that confidence, he can’t do his job. He can’t take on his assignment without knowing that whatever happens when the ball is snapped, his teammate has his back and will do whatever it takes for them both to succeed. The best QB is absolutely useless without the left tackle having his back play after play after play.
Without this mindset, nothing else matters. The entire game hangs on this simple fact.
I love this. My wife and I plan to hit every NFL stadium in the near future, and our next stop is the season opener in Jacksonville. I don’t even care about Jacksonville. I just love football.
I do serious statistical research for my fantasy teams, and never miss an opportunity to share tales of my glory days as a backup kicker in high school. I’ll never forget that legendary 2-point conversation PAT fake that I sold ever so well. They totally thought I was kicking it. Totally! Fooled them Every. Single. Time. It was so convincing that we almost even scored points from it.
But I digress…
Being the fanatic I am, I am thrilled that my son has the same affinity for the game. If there is a football game on television, any game, he is watching it through the waning seconds. He understands the subtle nuances of most defensive schemes, and is among the most dominant defensive players in his league. They call him “Seek and Destroy”.
Did I mention he is seven?
Of course, here in Texas, by the time you are seven you are expected to be a seasoned veteran with significant experience under your belt, battle scars and helmet stickers to show for it.
Seriously.
But the truth of the matter is that when he takes the field with his fellow gridiron warriors, what really lies behind that facemask is not Brian Uralcher or J.J. Watt, but a little boy. My little boy.
While dads like me dream of full-ride scholarships and Hall of Fame acceptance speeches, he is just hoping to get McDonalds for lunch because the new Happy Meal toy is cool.
Or maybe he is thinking about digging into the sandbox, coloring a picture, molding some Play-Do into the carpet, or going to the playground to ride the merry-go-round. And of course, he wants me to take him. Because I’m his dad.
And if I can devote hours and hours to football practice, I should certainly be able to find some time for those things.
He deserves that.
So I will cheer him on faithfully over the next few months, win or lose, starting hero or lonely benchwarmer, and will make an effort not to moan and groan about him wanting to play checkers when we get home from practice.
My son loves football as much as I do. But in the big scheme of things, all that matters to him, all that ever has mattered and all that ever will matter, is knowing that I have his back.
So tomorrow will be the first time in an awful long time that will not find me Back-to-School.
But my time in the classroom, and time with the many people who crossed my path as a teacher has shaped who I am and what motivates me.
Every day I had the privilege of spending time and investing in students and their families. I talked kids through tough choices, tough situations, and tough writing assignments.
I met some great parents who supported our school and their children. And I met some parents who thought I was doing a horrible job and didn't mind telling me so. :-)
I coached a small soccer team through some tough losses and some great wins.
I moved from being a novice to being a mentor.
I became friends with teachers who consistently put others before themselves, and worked tirelessly to motivate, encourage, and offer a smile.
I met people who had the smarts to do just about anything they wanted in life, but chose to be in the classroom, because deep down they really believe in the difference they are making.
Sure, lots of people can teach reading, writing and arithmetic. But not everyone can teach children.
I can also recite an awful lot of Shakespeare. Because as an English teacher I read it all. day. long. It can be fun at parties.
________________
My first full-time teaching gig was at an alternative school as a permanent sub. I got to hang out in the library, hang out with the students, and learn how to teach from the best in the business.
These students, whom others had given up on, proved to be more than capable given the right motivation and the right environment. They went on to teach us all a lesson by voting our school custodian as their graduation speaker, and it made the national news.
Why? Because he is a good man and a positive role model, who exemplifies hard work and lives what he talks.
In retrospect, I'm sure I learned more than I taught at Fern Ridge. Teaching is often like that.
From there I taught English in several schools in Missouri and Texas. So there will always be a place inside of me that is a Winfield Warrior, a Windsor Owl, a Klein Collins Tiger, and a Morton Ranch Maverick. I have a closet full of outdated spirit shirts, and it seems that just about everywhere I go I run into a former student, and I enjoy hearing the "what are you up to now?" stories.
I guess my point is this. We may not always agree with every policy decision the school makes, or every decision that is made in the classroom. But I can say without reservation that the teachers I know choose to spend their life teaching because they want to. "Bad" teachers are the rare exception, not the norm. The teachers I know teach because they want to make the world a better, wiser, more meaningful place; one class period at a time.
And that's exactly what they do.
Teachers - thanks for what you do. You rock. We are praying for you, and we've got your back. Get some rest and have a great tomorrow.
When we are seeking God in the Scriptures, we often instinctively turn to the Gospels or to the Psalms. But much wisdom can be found in a section few of us rarely turn to called the “minor prophets”.Really? who would want to be called a “minor prophet”?
It sounds rather derogatory.
I mean, would you rather play in the Major Leagues or the Minors?
The truth is that these prophets are called “minor” merely because they wrote smaller amounts of material than say, Isaiah or Jeremiah, and it has nothing to do with being less important than the others.
Among these “minors” is the book of Amos. But in spite of being “minor”, he has a very significant message. In fact, the book of Amos was even a favorite of Martin Luther King, “But let judgment run down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream” (5:24).
Amos was unique among the prophets, and he is a guy I think many of us can relate to. To start with, he was admittedly not your standard prophet material.
“I was not a prophet, nor am I the son of a prophet; for I am a herdsman and a grower of sycamore figs. Then the Lord took me as I followed the flock, and the Lord said to me, ‘Go, prophesy to My people Israel.’” (Amos 7:14-15)
Like Shakespeare wrote, “Some are born great….and some have greatness thrust upon ‘em”.
But clearly his heart and mind were ready. He was out in the field working his job, God called him elsewhere, and he went about fulfilling the call.
He had no seminary training, no ministry experience, no public speaking seminars, no qualifications, no expert references, no previous prophet work, no famous prophets in his family.
What he did have was the call of God. And it turns out that’s all he needed.
The name Amos means “burden-bearer”, and Amos indeed carried a heavy burden. He was called from his native sheep-herding lifestyle into the nation of Israel, where he pronounced very unpopular prophecies of judgment to the King and leaders.
He knew he was called of God, but they saw him as...well...unqualified.
He pointed out their oppression of the poor (5:11-13), dishonesty in business (8:4-6), selfish indulgence (6:4-7), and their idolatrous worship (5:21-27).
Not sunshine and roses kind of stuff.
Keep in mind that things in Israel were good! Very good! Israel at the time was a very prosperous nation, and archaeological evidence proves that the reign of Jeroboam was the most prosperous the nation had known. and few were interested in hearing such a “doom and gloom” message in good times. Especially from an out-of-town guy who just came off the farm.
Amos was an average guy chosen by God to leave what he knew, to walk out in the public and speak a very unpopular message.
Although Amos ends his prophecy with a hopeful vision of the future, he is the first prophet to predict the captivity of Israel and God’s punishment upon His chosen people (4:4, 5:21-24). We know historically that this prophecy came to pass years later.
He even went so far as to accurately predict the end of the King's royal lineage.
His prophecies contained pretty bad scenarios regarding their behavior and apathy, and they were all based in the truth of God. Yet the priests and the leaders, instead of listening and repenting, chose to complain about him and simply wanted him gone (7:10-11).
Why?
Because they were qualified, and he was not.
For being omnipotent and all, God seems to make some pretty big mistakes when it comes to choosing the right person for the job.
Then again, maybe He is just really, really that good.
“even as You gave Him authority over all flesh” (John 17:2)
Authority.
The ministry of Jesus was one of authority, and this concept was the cornerstone of all He said and did. At the beginning of His ministry, Jesus preached what is often referred to as the “Sermon on the Mount”. It was here that He laid the groundwork of who He was and what He was all about. After hearing Him, the Bible states that the people were “amazed”, “for He was teaching them as one having authority, and not as their scribes” (Matthew 7:29). The real question here is why didn’t their scribes teach with authority? Weren’t they the authority of their day? Weren’t they the ones responsible for bringing the laws of God to the people? Weren’t they the ones who were supposed to have the answers to theological questions?
Of course they were.
What then made Jesus so different?
It should be noted that early on Jesus was generally considered as one among many rabbis. John the Baptist, from a family of priests, would have been considered a rabbi as well. In Jewish culture, these rabbis were teachers who gathered disciples around themselves and taught the law as they had been taught it. These men were well-known, respected, and had great influence. But never, under any circumstance, did even the greatest rabbi make a claim to change a commandment, adapt a teaching of Scripture, or give a new teaching. Their job was to interpret, explain, give commentary, lend wisdom, and call to action; not to create.
In their teachings they would avoid error and draw their authority by quoting from someone considered above themselves, by using a phrase such as “the Scripture says”, or “Rabbi so-and-so once said”, or “the doctors of the law say”. They typically kept their topics to matters close to previous writings and teachings.
Jesus spoke differently. Much differently.
He spoke on matters that deeply affect every aspect of how we live, what we live for, and how we interact both with one another and with God.
He said things like, “I have come to fulfill the law”.
He said things like, “you have heard. . . but now I tell you . . .”
He said things like, “whoever has seen Me has seen the Father.”
He said things like, “do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets”.
So while others of His day were often adding more and more and more complicated details and demands to the law, He was simplifying it. While His contemporaries were writing volumes of rules that were to be followed to the minutest detail, he was saying “Love God, love people”.
The very word ‘authority’ has its root in the word ‘author’. One who writes. One who creates.
An author is the highest expert on a book, because he is the one who wrote the book. He knows every word and syllable. Who can claim to know a book better than the author who wrote it?
Jesus was writing the book before their eyes. And unlike anyone they had ever seen or heard before, Jesus alone appeared to have the authority to do so. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus claims to have authority to cast out demons, to heal sickness, to control natural forces, and furthermore claims the ability to pass this authority on to others (see Matthew 9:6 and Matthew 10:1). If that wasn’t enough, he claims the authority to forgive sin, an authority reserved for God alone (see Mark 2:10). Not even the High Priest claimed this degree of authority for himself. This was all unheard of, and well outside the bounds of any typical teacher of the law.
And this was unacceptable.
Essentially, by claiming this authority, Jesus was claiming to be the fulfillment of prophecy, including Daniel’s prophecy recorded in Daniel 7:14 -
14 “And to Him was given dominion, Glory and a kingdom, that all the peoples, nations and men of every language might serve Him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion which will not pass away; and His kingdom is one which will not be destroyed.”
Jesus was claiming to be the promised Messiah, God incarnate, and everyone knew it.
But not everyone liked it.
I haven’t got around to blogging for a while, and I miss doing it. Once my Christmas break came to an end, so did much of my free time to do things I enjoy, like designing furniture out of old pallets, reading novels just for fun, and writing. So I decided tonight to sit down for twenty minutes and just write anything that came out and post it no matter what. Including this paragraph. You have 20 minutes - - - - GO!
There’s really something to be said for the whole process of getting thoughts down in writing, and then having the honor to share those thoughts with anyone interested. And this is so much easier to do now than at any other point in recorded history. It’s amazing really. Imagine what Socrates would have done with the audience each of us has waiting for us once we hit the “submit” button. Then again, he may have been watching videos and gotten distracted. Like many bloggers, on any given day I end up with views from all around the globe, and it still amazes me that anyone really reads this stuff. But back to the process of writing . . .
16 minutes.
Ernest Hemingway once said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” And honestly, he’s exactly right. Writing is about passion and determination and allowing obscure thoughts to crawl out from those crevices we hide them in during the day in order to make space for deadlines and schedules and newspaper stories and appointments and other matters. When writers try to find those thoughts, and can’t find them, we call it writer’s block. Sometimes writer’s block can stem from the mere circumstance of not having enough time to coax those thoughts out from the hiding places they get shoved into for safe keeping. And so we don’t write.
And our thoughts wither. And our hearts wither.
10 minutes.
As true to Hemingway’s suggestion, the greatest salve to writer’s block is just to sit down at a keyboard and just start typing something. Anything. It doesn’t even matter what. Even this mess. Just spew out some random nonsense about your grocery list, some Sting song lyrics if you know any like De doo doo doo De da da da just because that is what is in my head right now for some reason, a plot line you remember from McHale’s Navy and how it somehow still reminds me of my grandfather, a childhood remembrance about putting penny candy at the bottom of a slurpee on Saturday mornings, or maybe just how it is a gorgeous night, but somehow you wish it was raining instead because rain is exciting to watch and reminds you of coffee. It reminds me of my wife too and how we both like the rain and how excited we were that it rained right after our wedding even though other people might think that’s weird. It doesn’t even matter what we write. Just that we write.
Because our best words are most often those which we did not expect to write. Our best words are merely amorphous thoughts given a form and a structure and a cadence to be understood by others so they too can see, hear, feel and experience what you see, hear and feel and experience. And a camaraderie is established.
3 minutes.
Every now and then I get into the rhythm of writing, and my fingers just kind of start moving along on their own across the keyboard until the fine moment when a thought goes straight from a seldom-accessed synapse and bypasses all thought, feelings and premonition and somehow ends up on the screen in front of me. And when it happens you know it. Like the paragraph right before this one.
My kids are asking what’s for dinner, and I don’t know what to tell them without checking the menu posted on the refrigerator.
Times up.
Don't get me wrong, inaugurations are very important; they represent our freedoms, they represent the power of democratic elections, and they represent the security and order of a peaceful transfer of power. This is all good, and I’m thankful for it.
But that stuff happens every four years.
We will continue to argue about politics and politicians for the next four years, and another four years after that, and so on. What makes today significant is that today a group of women who have voluntarily left their comfortable lives of American freedom have traveled across the globe, and are showing love, kindness, respect and dignity to another group of women who have no familiarity with any of the above concepts. Today, ladies who have known the gift of freedom are sharing it with ladies who have not known freedom, ladies who have been living in slavery.
Why? Because Freedom is not truly freedom until it is multiplied.
Freedom is not about celebrating the work, but finishing the work.
Freedom cannot long exist in a vacuum. Freedom that accepts any oppression is not worthy of itself. It is negligence.
Celebrating freedom is easy, and there is no hardship in talk about making a difference. It is easy to proclaim ourselves as a city on a hill. But while we sleep tonight, true Freedom quietly steps with boldness and determination into the darkest corners of the earth and shines the unbridled light of Justice one candle at a time.
Slavery is real. It exists today and is more widespread than most of us imagine. Yet Freedom is real, and continues to be the strongest weapon wielded against injustice.
Today is also significant in that it is Martin Luther King Day. Much can be said of this man who fought with the power of love to bring about equality and freedom. Most of us know his speech from 1963. To imagine the dream he spoke of is fulfilled while millions around our globe languish in slavery is dire foolishness.
In his momentous speech he declared that, “Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment.”
But 50 years later, the planet still is not free.
The moment continues to be urgent.
We have made progress in multiplying freedom, but we have so far to go. While we discuss the urgency of the moment, while we comfortably talk about making Justice a reality, while we witness the political process of freedom, brave soldiers have already embraced the cause and taken action.
Those soldiers, in this case, are women.
To start making a difference visit www.ijm.org
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.
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/)
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!
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. . .
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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