Psalm 69

I'm not a bad swimmer.
At least I didn't used to be. Now that I'm 56 years old and carrying some extra luggage...maybe I should admit I'm not a bad floater.
Anyway.
Many years ago Jan and I lived in Mesquite, Texas. We drove over to Fort Worth to visit some of her relatives. They lived near Lake Worth and had a Hobie Cat catamaran on the lake.
The guy I was visiting insisted I join him for a trip around the lake on that thing.
The weather was not ideal. In fact the waves were surprisingly high for a lake, even such a large lake.
I was nervous about entrusting my life with that guy but he insisted that he had trained with a premier sailboat captain. And he was sure I'd have a good time.
Boy was he wrong.
We got that boat out on the water and it flew! I knew nothing about sailing. And my captain gave me simple instructions like, "Don't let that boom hit you."
We skimmed across that rough lake at an exhilarating speed.
Then it was time to come back. Jan's relative gave me some quick instructions about something he called "tacking." I don't think I ever gave it any thought before then, but I soon found out how a sailboat can travel in the opposite direction as the wind. You have to "tack." Suffice to say my job was to stay out of the way of the sail's boom because it frequently swung back and forth to propel the boat against the wind.
And there was wind. Way too much wind.
That catamaran got out of hand and flipped over.
And I mean flipped.
It went completely upside down with the mast straight down into the water and all the rigging and the sail coming completely off the mast and boom.
At this point I knew we were in trouble.
There were no other boats out on that lake. None of them were stupid enough to be out on such rough waves. I hadn't put a life jacket on and neither did the guy I was with.
It took us some time to even get the boat upright. And we were now dead in the water without the sail.
So here was the plan. I was to get into the water and grab the bow and face the boat into the wind so this guy could rerig the sail.
I ended up holding that boat into the wind for at least an hour while I treaded water and bobbed up and down with the waves that seemed to get bigger and bigger.
I became exhausted. I can honestly say that during those minutes of exhaustion and fatigue I became convinced that this was the end o fmy life. I really did not think I was going to survive. I was barely hanging onto the bow and my legs were rubber. I had swallowed way too much of Lake Worth. I had an overwhelming sense of despair. My life passed before my eyes in a way that is hard to describe. My surroundings became surreal.
And then suddenly it was done.
The guy managed to get the sail rigged. I managed to get back onto that thing. We managed to get back to the dock.
We were pretty quiet after that.
He knew how mad I was and I hope he knew how lucky he was that I didn't have an ounce of strength left in me.
Which brings me back to the here and now.
I'm tired.
Maybe even exhausted.
I've been trying to keep that bow of my family and my own life into the wind for some time and I'm feeling rubbery.
One day last week I came to the church, sat down in a pew and thumbed through the Psalms.
I figured that David or somebody in one of those songs could verbalize what I've been feeling.
I found Psalm 69.
Verses 1-3 describe that sense of loss of control, comfort, safety, or security.
Verse 4 acknowledges the enemy without. There is opposition. It's real and it's people.
Verse 5 admits that at least some of the trouble is my own fault.I have been foolish at times. I deserve the consequences of poor choices, weak moments, indulgent excesses.
Verse 6 reminds me that I may be a stumbling block to others when I fail.
Verses 7-8 reveal the tell-tale effects: I can cause others to fail.
And so I cry out as the Psalmist, David did in verse 1: SAVE ME, O GOD, and verse 29: RESCUE ME, O GOD, BY YOUR SAVING POWER. Then I will raise God's name with singing, and I will honor him with thanksgiving.
I believe that in this world we will have difficulties and enemies and circumstances and distractions and sorrow and pain and loneliness and a host of other sad feelings and emotions.
But God is good. He is loving and kind. He forgives and forgets. He picks us up from the mire and deep waters and puts us on solid ground. He drys us off and clothes us with clean clothes. He gives us new starts. He provides our needs. And best of all He never leaves us alone.
Well, I feel better already just getting all that off my chest.
I haven't depressed you, have I?
Try reading Psalm 69 and praying through that wonderful Psalm.
It helped me.
let me know what you think.
Don

Debt Free?

Ever listen to Dave Ramsay? He's on radio and TV and encourages people to do the hard work toward becoming debt free. He quips that the paid mortgage has replaced the BMW as the status symbol of success in America.
Over the past few months as I've listened to his show, it has dawned on me that most, but not all, of his callers are people who make considerably more money than me.
And, boy, have they gotten into financial messes. I've listened to their tales of woe concerning thousands and thousands of dollars' of school debt, credit card debt, housing debt, medical expenses, and wasteful spending.
But it isn't always people with big incomes.
The average and below average income people have made serious errors in judgment regarding their spending, borrowing, and savings, too.
That's where I come in.
I've been there/done that.
In fact, I'm there right now.
And I'm here to tell you that financial pressure is horrible.
It permeates every aspect of life.
I wake up in debt and I go to bed in debt.
Every time I spend money, my mental alarm goes off and I realize that maybe the money should be put somewhere else. And it doesn't matter if the purchase is a need, want, or extravagance.
My circumstances are a mixture of unfortunate medical expenses from an unavoidable illness (my wife's cancer) and the complexities of raising 7 kids with a modest income. The popular way of looking at it is that there has been too much month at the end of the paycheck.
The reason I even mention this obviously private matter is this:
I've realized the coincidental parallels between my finances and my faith.
You see, I have this piece of property that I own. It has been my intention for some time to sell it and pay off the debt I have accrued. The problem is, in the grand cosmic drama of Michigan living, I haven't been able to find a buyer.
Until now.
Now I have a buyer and a closing date and the reality that soon I will hold in my hand a check large enough to tithe, pay off my debt, and get the car fixed (CV joint). I'm looking forward to being square.
And here's the interesting part.
I've realized I'm in a similar situation with God.
Here's the way I see it.
I'm was in debt with God, Romans 3:23.
The debt was killing me, Romans 6:23.
Jesus came along and paid off my debt, Romans 5:8; John 3:16; Ephesians 2:8-9.
The bible, if you'll do some research on the subject, actually says that the deal is done completely for anyone who yields to Jesus as Lord and Savior. God looks at it as if I'm already in heaven when it comes to how sure the deal is, Ephesians 2:4-7.
But the thing is, I haven't gotten the full benefit of the transaction. I guess I would roughly say, I don't have the check in my hand. I just have a down payment.
Jesus put it this way: "Don't be troubled. You trust God, now trust in me. There are many rooms in my Father's home, and I am going to prepare a place for you. If this were not so, I would tell you plainly. When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be where I am." (John 14:1-3) I'm actually going to live with Jesus some day in his house.
Today, my property is sold and I'm waiting to close and get a check.
Today, my sins are forgiven and I'm waiting to close on this life and go to heaven.
In the mean time, I think I'll live like a man with no debt.
I think I'll live within my income and not get into debt again.
I think I'll live a Christian life that reflects the belief that I'm headed to heaven when I die. so I'm going to stay away from the things in this life that don't do anything for me as a Christian.
What about you?
Would you like to know that your sins are paid for? Ask Jesus to forgive you of your sins. Contact a bible-believing Christian and tell him you're ready to accept Jesus.
Are you a Christian that needs to start living more like a member of the heavenly family than your earthly family?
Contact a good, bible-believing church and get started!
Tell me what you think...
Don
P.S. This one's for Dave Ramsay..."I'M DEBT FREE!"

Superbowl

I used to watch the Superbowl every year. It was a cultural necessity. Who wants to be the ignorant guy around the watercooler? Not me...so I watched and frankly, enjoyed the big game.
Congratulations to the winners and condolences to the losers. I'm sure there was a play or two that should have been called some other way and I'm sure that for some, the wrong team won. But, as our culture's new paradigm states, "It is what it is."
I like sports but I'm not obsessed. I'd much rather play than watch and if I can just get 25 pounds off, I might strap on some skates and play a little hockey.
It's ok to be a hockey fan in Columbus MI. But football? The nearest thing to professional football around here is the Detroit Lions. It's safe to say they'll be better next year.
There's no talk of Superbowl chances in Detroit right now.
I'm not sure the owners and management of the Lions know what it would take to win it all.
Lions fans spent the season hearing about how well the practices went and how they just didn't translate into game wins.
Does that make sense to you?
At what point should the coaches have done something differently?
I can't possibly know. I'm not a coach. I don't know football. I have no experience managing million dollar players. I couldn't fix the Lions. I know that.
But I do know a little human nature.
I read recently Tom Landry's coaching philosophy. It went something like this: convince men to do what they don't want to do so they can achieve what they want to achieve.
Frankly, that task is for a few gifted people. Tom Landry was special and his winning football record shows it.
You know where I'm headed, right?
My task as a pastor is pretty much the same: get people to do what they don't want to do so they can be who they want to be.
The work of God changes people. And people want God in their lives. But people do not want to change.
So the goal to win the Superbowl and the goal for a Christian come about the same way.
To win, you've got to do what you don't want to do to.
It's called discipline.
"Students are not greater than their teacher. But the student who is fully trained will become like the teacher."(Luke 6:40, NLT)
"Do not waste time arguing over godless ideas and old wives’ tales. Instead, train yourself to be godly."
“Physical training is good, but training for godliness is much better, promising benefits in this life and in the life to come.” (1 Timothy 4:7-8, NLT)
Do you want a winning season in your Christian life?
Start training like you want to win.
Need help?
Join a good, bible-believing church.
Don, letting the Son shine in 2009.

Lesson from the Septic Tank

I'm just guessing, but I suppose many people in our country have never had the experience of getting a shovel and digging out the dirt around a septic tank lid so the Septic Guy could back up his tank truck and suck the 1500 or so gallons of sewage out.
Step One: have a good idea where the tank lid is. Start digging. The tank is below ground and the top has a lid at least a foot-and-a-half square. Some (ours) have two lids. Its usually a foot or so of digging (Hint: backfill with some sand; next time the digging will be easier.).
Step Two: get out of the way. The Septic Guy gets paid to do the rest and he doesn't need your help. He's got this big tank truck with what can only be described as the world's largest shopvac.
Note: sometime after step two, you have to do what every man has to do.
You have to look. Down into the tank. Where all that you flush down the toilet ends up.
It's interesting.
And, of course, it smells like...well, you know...
Ideally, all you're going to see is what is supposed to be flushed down a toilet; toilet paper and yesterday's ravioli. Except its not as recognizable as that.
In reality, you see things that aren't supposed to be there.
For instance, someone has been eating candy bars and flushing the wrappers. Snickers.
Someone is flushing baby wipes.
I don't know why, but I also saw some small cylindrical white plastic. I'm not sure what it was. It looked like a medicine bottle top. And some other unidentifiable objects made of materials not suitable for septic fields.
So, I've got to have the annual talk with the kids. "Don't flush stuff down the toilet. Or sink, for that matter."

I'ts probably just a coincidence, but I thought about Sunday school class last week. We were learning about prayer. One member mentioned that our prayer requests are typically, "help so-and-so to feel better," or "pray for ____'s health issue." We might even mention that a person has "spiritual needs." But the note was made that we just don't get very personal or vulnerable.

To be rather blunt with you, I'm thinking that our prayers should sometimes be like septic tank cleaning.
We should call God up and and say, "come here and take the lid off the hidden junk in my life and clean it out."
I'm a pastor. I know these things. There is stuff in my life and your life and every Christian's life that just shouldn't be there. And as long as it's hidden and no one can smell it or see it, we figure it can't be doing anyone any harm.
But it is.
See, the stuff that gets flushed into a septic system and shouldn't can be very costly in the long run. It will ruin the field. It'll cost thousands of dollars to put a new one in.
The stuff in a Christian that doesn't belong there is costly, too. We cost Jesus much too much for us to ruin ourselves by ignoring the hidden junk.
I suggest we get more intimate in our prayer lives and let God take a load of... well, you know...out of us. And the sooner the better.
This world needs sweet, real Christians. Let's you and I be just that.

Mom

I lost my dad last week.
He was 86 and over the last couple of years was really slowing down.
Being a rough carpenter took its toll on his body over the years.
I did a little of that work and I can vouch that it is physically demanding.
Dad's fingers were perpetually cracked. He used to try various ointments to soothe and soften them, but it was an act of futility. He had some cancer taken off his face and neck. It wasn't that real bad kind. So he learned to keep out of the sun late in life. Dad almost always wore light colored carpenter's overalls when he worked. He called them his "ducks." I can see him in them as I write. He didn't use carbide blades in his saws and he could flip a saw over and sharpen it quickly with the file he kept with him. At home when a neighbor used a saw, he would hear it screaming and remark something about using a dull blade. I've learned to hear the same thing. Dad was a smart man and he could look at a set of blueprint a tell you right away what would work and what wouldn't. His math skills were excellent. If measurements didn't add up, he knew it . And he knew how to fix it and make it right.
At his funeral there was the usual apearance of pictures from his life. I've attended many funerals and it always strikes me how a family tries to summarize a man's life by a few hundred pictures on a felt board. [don't get me wrong, I like looking at the fond memories.]
One picture showed him with his arm in a sling. He was in his late forties, I think. Dad was up a ladder one day at work [sometime after luch break] and it slipped and he rode it down and landed and broke his arm just below the elbow. Dad was no sissy; had a crew of men needing him so he worked the rest of the day, drove home, and then Mom took him to he hospital. I distinctly remember mom crying that afternoon when he got home from work. I was scared, too. His arm was way too big. Even for a man with big arms. And dad had good sized arms.

It's been a week or so since dad died. Mom has been in that strange world only widows occupy. She has been very busy: social security, buying graves, funeral arrangements, bank changes, insurance changes, thank you cards, death notifications to everybody and their brother...
She's had good help, too. Family has supported in every way. She's hosted, entertained, encouraged, and comforted others.
But I stopped by last night and mom looks tired; maybe even haggard. Her hug was longer and closer than I remember it being in the past.
She told her kids that she needs to be alone. I believe her. She's got to grieve. She's got to have the space and time to cry. It's her turn.
She's going to need her friends - soon. But for the time being she needs some down time to process the reality that her friend and lover and partner for 60 years is gone.
Dad did a great job of protecting and supporting and leading.
But he's gone.
I hope I can be there for mom when she needs me.

maybe the worst

I've had a long term relationship with God.
It's been up and down.
At times we have been very close; it's hard to explain. I get along with Him and He lovingly leads and guides and assures me.
Other times have been different. I wouldn't say I questioned His existence, or doubted my faith. But there have been stretches of time that I felt alone. It's sort of like when I'm in the living room and Jan is in the bedroom and it seems as though we're miles apart. I never question whether Jan's in there or not; I just feel alone.
One of the ways I've sensed a closeness to God is the way He speaks to my conscience.
One such conversation with God occurred a few times over the years after I graduated from high school.
You see, I used to have a sharp tongue and a critical spirit. I used to be a real smart aleck. I could say very mean things about someone and think I was being funny.
There was a girl in high school that had a peculiarly shpaed nose.
I nick-named her "Hookie."
I didn't really know her; she seemed quiet. My friends and I would tease each other about her. You know, "...are you going out wth Hookie...?" type stuff.
At one point it deteriorated into my pestering a guy I didn't like about liking her.
I remember it coming to a point where a fight almost ensued after a bus ride with the school band.
Anyway...
After I got out of high school I eventually matured (a little).
Then I began to see this type of behavior in teens and adults.
It was hideous and it offended my spirit.
And God invaded my conscience.
"Hey, Don, remember Hookie?" He would say.
It happened several times over a number of years.
Each time I would pray for the ones doing the bugging. I would pray for the ones being bugged. And I would pray and ask God to forgive me. Then I would pray for "Hookie."
It's been a long time since I've felt an urge to pray for her and I believe God has more than forgiven me.
I wonder, though, what kind of irreparable damage I have done with my mouth.
I wihs I could say that I've got good control over my tongue, but that would be a lie.
I still make comments I regret. I still smart off once in a while. I still have a God who says, "What'd you just say?" and reminds me to make quick repairs when He nudges me.
"Hookie" had a name. It was Vickie. I hope that God sent someone to her in her life that valued that name and loved her enough to whisper it sweetly and kindly many times in her ears.
God does that sort of thing. I know. He gave me a lovely girl that doesn't mind being a "Pew."
For whatever it's worth, "Sorry, Vickie."
I'm trying not to waste my breathe being critical any more.
I suggest you don't, either.
"We all make many mistakes, but those who control their tongues can also control themselves in every other way. We can make a large horse turn around and go wherever we want by means of a small bit in its mouth. And a tiny rudder makes a huge ship turn around wherever the pilot wants it to go, even though the winds are strong. So, also the tongue is a small thing, but what enormous damage it can do. A tiny spark can set a great forest on fire. And the tongue is a flame of fire. It is full of wickedness that can ruin your whole life. It can turn the entire course of your life into a blazing flame of destruction, for it is set on fire by hell itself." James 3:2-6 (NLT)

First Chair

When I was there from 1969-1971, Cody High School had a gifted band director, Mr. Joseph Poniatowski (sp?). He demanded the best from everyone, even those who were marginally talented. Sometimes it was difficult, painful even, to sit through an intense pre-concert practice. It was worth it. We played our hearts out and Mr. P directed with a passion suitable for the best orchestra in the world.
I learned some valuable lessons in band.
For one thing, I have come to realize the importance of practice. Though not without exception, it is true that what you do in practice is what you will do in preformance. If you want to play sports or perform in public, you must practice. And practice seriously.
Another lesson is that some poeple are more talented than others. Maybe success is 90% perspiration and 10% inspiration. But talent is a gift and not everyone is equally gifted or talented. So what? Do your best. Try. Work. Even if you're not particularly good at what you enjoy to do. Last night my oldest son and my future son-in-law played their first indoor soccer game for a company team in a summer league. They got shellacked. It was 30 somethings versus 19 year olds. Who's got the energy of a nineteen year old? Other 19 year olds! That may not be talent, but the point is the same. My son and son-in-law can still do their best and have fun (to a point), can't they?
One other lesson came on a day I can remember vividly. At least one moment I remember. I was in the band office and Mr. P told me to wind up a microphone cord (it may have been an extrension cord). As I started to do what he asked, he scolded me for not doing it the way he wanted. See, cords like that have to be twisted a little as they're wound up or they'll be a mess. I didn't know that. Mr. P assumed that I would. He didn't stop and teach me. He just grabbed the cord and did it himself. I can still remember the feeling of smallness and embarrassment of that moment. I think I've taken the time in my life to stop and teach rather than yell and grab. At least most of the time.
Don't get me wrong.
I should have learned more. Sometime soon, I'll tell you about the worst thing I ever did in high school.
In the mean time, practice-have fun-be patient.

"A servant of the Lord must not quarrel but must be kind to everyone, be able to teach, and be patient with difficult people. Gently instruct those who oppose the truth. Perhaps God will change those people’s hearts, and they will learn the truth."
2 Ti 2:24-25 NLT