The family went out to the farms and picked strawberries today.
Monday, June 28, 2004
Black widows, broken noses and a dark curse...
Is this not the fast I have chosen?
...to not turn away from your own flesh and blood.
-Isaiah 58:6-7
Last night in Martin Hall Youth Detention Center, I was talking to a young man after the message I had preached on Zachaeus, the Notorious Sinner. His name was Ricky, a handsome, intelligent and painfully normal 16 year old kid.
He shared with me how he was in jail because he had broken his parole by fighting with some other teen that had threatened his girlfriend. He shared how he had a lot of anger and that it seemed to be something that he couldn't control. I pried a little more into his family history because the more I work in these facilities the more clear it becomes that most of these kids are the fruit of a bad tree.
Sure enough, he was adopted out of a drug home and moved into a home with a loving but weak father and a battle axe of a mother. A woman with a rattlesnake temper. A poisonous tongue and disposition like a blackwidow. A prize fighter fist that was her main weapon of choice after verbal lashings.
His nose had been broken 8 times.
His lips, face and eyebrows were scarred from doors, hands, and whatever else...
He shared how his dad would cower in his hands at the dinner table as she would rant and rave and spew her destructive criticisms, threats and attacks.
As Ricky was sharing, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at the challenges young people face at the hands of their own flesh and blood today.
We are living in the curse of Malachi 4:5 that states that if the hearts of the fathers do not turn to their children and the children's hearts don't turn to their fathers, than the land will become struck with a curse.
I felt that dark curse last night.
Is this not the fast I have chosen?
...to not turn away from your own flesh and blood.
-Isaiah 58:6-7
Last night in Martin Hall Youth Detention Center, I was talking to a young man after the message I had preached on Zachaeus, the Notorious Sinner. His name was Ricky, a handsome, intelligent and painfully normal 16 year old kid.
He shared with me how he was in jail because he had broken his parole by fighting with some other teen that had threatened his girlfriend. He shared how he had a lot of anger and that it seemed to be something that he couldn't control. I pried a little more into his family history because the more I work in these facilities the more clear it becomes that most of these kids are the fruit of a bad tree.
Sure enough, he was adopted out of a drug home and moved into a home with a loving but weak father and a battle axe of a mother. A woman with a rattlesnake temper. A poisonous tongue and disposition like a blackwidow. A prize fighter fist that was her main weapon of choice after verbal lashings.
His nose had been broken 8 times.
His lips, face and eyebrows were scarred from doors, hands, and whatever else...
He shared how his dad would cower in his hands at the dinner table as she would rant and rave and spew her destructive criticisms, threats and attacks.
As Ricky was sharing, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at the challenges young people face at the hands of their own flesh and blood today.
We are living in the curse of Malachi 4:5 that states that if the hearts of the fathers do not turn to their children and the children's hearts don't turn to their fathers, than the land will become struck with a curse.
I felt that dark curse last night.
Saturday, June 26, 2004
Virtual War Hammer
The Lord says, you are my hammer, my weapon of war.
With you I shatter nations and destroy kingdoms...
-Is. 51:20
Let these false prophets tell their dreams,
but let my true messengers faithfully proclaim my every word.
There is a difference between chaff and wheat!
Does not my word burn like fire?" asks the LORD.
Is it not like a mighty hammer that smashes rock to pieces?
-Jeremiah 23:28-29
I recently returned to Habbo Hotel, a virtual interactive community environment on the web.
I have not been to the room I created in a long time. When I went in my virtual room, there on the wall was a Hammer. With all the spiritual stuff surrounding "the hammer of God" lately, I found that image on the wall to be very confirming. Years ago, I decorated that wall with no other thought than, it looked cool. Now when I walked in, it had a whole new meaning. I know that sounds kind of hyper spiritual but hey, it was strange to see.
If you want to visit the room, go to the site and create a virtual person and go to the "gzyouthchurch" guest room.
The Lord says, you are my hammer, my weapon of war.
With you I shatter nations and destroy kingdoms...
-Is. 51:20
Let these false prophets tell their dreams,
but let my true messengers faithfully proclaim my every word.
There is a difference between chaff and wheat!
Does not my word burn like fire?" asks the LORD.
Is it not like a mighty hammer that smashes rock to pieces?
-Jeremiah 23:28-29
I recently returned to Habbo Hotel, a virtual interactive community environment on the web.
I have not been to the room I created in a long time. When I went in my virtual room, there on the wall was a Hammer. With all the spiritual stuff surrounding "the hammer of God" lately, I found that image on the wall to be very confirming. Years ago, I decorated that wall with no other thought than, it looked cool. Now when I walked in, it had a whole new meaning. I know that sounds kind of hyper spiritual but hey, it was strange to see.
If you want to visit the room, go to the site and create a virtual person and go to the "gzyouthchurch" guest room.
Friday, June 25, 2004
Please pray again...
Then he prayed again...
and the sky poured rain
and the earth produced its fruit
-James 5:18
I think most of the challenge of the life in the spirit is the battle to simply...pray again.
Living in the truth and the knowledge that rain will come and the earth will once again bear its fruit is a hard discipline. The fact that the means and the ends are both connected to the simple yet monumental challenge of continued prayer is a mystery but not one that can't be grasped. We are called to become the instruments, the channels, the embodiment of God's work on the earth.
"The earnest (heartfelt, continued) prayer of a righteous man makes tremendous power available––dynamic in its working."
-(Amplified version, James 5:16)
This verse has been my transformation crucible.
It's testing fire has formed my inner life
and fueled the outliving work.
In it lies the power to break and make a man.
It's a grave and an open door.
It's a light that exposes the heart's true motives.
It's a tree of life whose leaves and fruit brings healing to the nations.
Theodore Epp observed,
"Once a man is satisfied that he is in the center of God's plan and God is working out His will through him, that man is invincible."
Go...you are invincible.
Then he prayed again...
and the sky poured rain
and the earth produced its fruit
-James 5:18
I think most of the challenge of the life in the spirit is the battle to simply...pray again.
Living in the truth and the knowledge that rain will come and the earth will once again bear its fruit is a hard discipline. The fact that the means and the ends are both connected to the simple yet monumental challenge of continued prayer is a mystery but not one that can't be grasped. We are called to become the instruments, the channels, the embodiment of God's work on the earth.
"The earnest (heartfelt, continued) prayer of a righteous man makes tremendous power available––dynamic in its working."
-(Amplified version, James 5:16)
This verse has been my transformation crucible.
It's testing fire has formed my inner life
and fueled the outliving work.
In it lies the power to break and make a man.
It's a grave and an open door.
It's a light that exposes the heart's true motives.
It's a tree of life whose leaves and fruit brings healing to the nations.
Theodore Epp observed,
"Once a man is satisfied that he is in the center of God's plan and God is working out His will through him, that man is invincible."
Go...you are invincible.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Exactly
"Crush your enemies, see them driven before you and hear the lamentations of their women." -Conan the barbarian
LOL...that line makes me laugh out loud!
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Kill and Eat
There are doors waiting to be walked through right now, The Lord needs prayerful, heart soft, open-minded, spirit-filled men and women. He needs those that are open to many different animals and a willingness to embrace all creatures that God might bring to our house (read Acts 10:9-23).
In order to move to the next level of ministry and fruitfulness there needs to be a greater vision of what God wants to give you. Like Peter's vision, God has a sheet full of wild and unusual animals that He desires you to connect with. You must be willing to leave your comfort zone, let go of some of your cultural limitations, be willing to go to new places with new people, you must learn to "kill and eat." Or you might sweep the opportunity aside and stay within your comfort zone...spiritually and culturally.
I am praying for greater faith and a more daring response to the visions and dreams that the Lord will grant us as we devote ourselves to prayer. Let us go to the roof tops and pray.
In order to move to the next level of ministry and fruitfulness there needs to be a greater vision of what God wants to give you. Like Peter's vision, God has a sheet full of wild and unusual animals that He desires you to connect with. You must be willing to leave your comfort zone, let go of some of your cultural limitations, be willing to go to new places with new people, you must learn to "kill and eat." Or you might sweep the opportunity aside and stay within your comfort zone...spiritually and culturally.
I am praying for greater faith and a more daring response to the visions and dreams that the Lord will grant us as we devote ourselves to prayer. Let us go to the roof tops and pray.
Friday, June 18, 2004
Esther and Rikk. What can I say, Esther you were a tough one to crack but once you opened up, it was a beautiful thing...I still think you have a prophetic gift. You're a beautiful person, inside and out, I hope you know that. Rikk your smile in worship was like seeing the face of Moses. You shine bro! I've never met a more gentle soul and a more loving man. Watching you play the drums that Sunday night at your church was pure worship. You are a treasure.
Christa on the left, is my first Dutch friend. You are truly an amazing woman of God and a true sister. You are the "man of peace" Matthew 10:11. the city has opened to me because of you.You are a blessing from heaven..long live the camel face! Samoan is on the right. Wow you are one of the funniest Canadians I have ever met...I enjoyed your laugh, keep smiling.
And you come from a church that you shouldn't be ashamed of...prophets rock girl! Don't despise prophesy. I know you don't but sometimes other people cause us to hide our light because they can't handle the fire of the flame. Let it burn wild woman, let it burn!
A view from my YWAM room overlooking the Amsterdam central station. There was nothing as powerful as worshipping to "Fire" by Switchfoot while looking out over the people of Amsterdam. What a blessing this free room was...thank you Bart and Maike, you two are heros in my book. Thanks for the great dinner and all the love!
Anja on the left was our feisty guide in Oslo for two days. I met her on a ministry trip four years ago during a youth meeting at Christa's (on the right) youth church in Amsterdam. I told Anja that someday I would be in Norway, I just didn't know when. We prayed and God set the date. You rock girl...HEAD DOWN!!!
Here's where it all happens on the streets, in the cafes...out in the world. Nothing is as exciting as serving Jesus. I would of never believed the places God would take me when He came into my life at 15. His mercy, grace and favor is simply overwhelming, God you are so good! You are the greatest of all dreamers and I live to dream Your dreams.
The harbor in Oslo. Simply beautiful. I could almost hear the history on the winds of the sea. I pray a new generation of spiritual vikings will once again launch from these shores with a zeal to extend the dominion of God in the nations. Never have I felt more at home in a nations history and mythology...all of which is a shadow yearning for the true One who holds the hammer of truth and has eyes that blaze with fire and a tattooed leg declaring "King of kings and Lord of lords". He wears wild white hair and a sword emerges from his mouth. His legs are burnished bronze for He walks through the fires of time and suffering. He is a God of war and He wars after the hearts of Norwegians.
This great tiger greets you when you come out of the Oslo, Norway central station. It captured the spirit of the people that I encountered. Words cannot express the prophetic stirring I received while spending a few days in Norway. God has an amazing plan unfolding there! I wear the hammer around my neck as a prophetic symbol of all God has for you. Arise Hammer of God arise!!!
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Friday, June 11, 2004
Open the door...
Last Day in Europe.
My heart and spirit are so full right now, as I prepare to say goodbye to this region of the world. The need here is so immense...the lost souls, the weakness that seems to permeate so many conversations that I hear.
The very Spirit that so many shun, question and seek to keep controlled is the very One that offers the power needed to prevail, prosper and penetrate the very culture that needs touched. I am mystified that many seem to shy away from the very source that contains the antidote to the ailments that plague their spiritual momentum!
Don't get me wrong, there are many amazing workers and churches here that are doing an awesome work but there are more that are languishing in irrelevance. There is much here that has a form of godliness but denies the power...but that will change.
Potential is the word of the hour here. So much potential, I just pray that it will be activated. There are great victories awaiting those who will dare to believe and allow the Holy Spirit to move freely, powerfully and unexpectedly. He is a wind of truth and activity not a mountain.
I pray, no, I weep and plead that you will open up your sails to the possibilities that the wind of God desires to move you towards. Embrace His unexplainable ways, His mystery, His wildness. Open up your sepulchers and let the breath of Life breathe upon your dry bones again. Open up your ears and listen for the pleadings of your heavenly bridegroom calling you from your comfortable bed chamber. Abandon the comforts and excuses of cleanliness and feigned holiness and get your feet dirty following God again. Can't you hear his voice calling you? Can't you see His hand extended through the opening in the door that you have closed and locked. His hand is on the bolt...beckoning you to arise and come out into the night of the unknown walk. You will have to leave your security, your familiar...your bed. But sleep is all it has given you anyway and though you are asleep...your heart is awake and it longs for more.
I pray that fiery rain will fall again, voices will be baptized with heavenly songs again.
It is time...
My heart and spirit are so full right now, as I prepare to say goodbye to this region of the world. The need here is so immense...the lost souls, the weakness that seems to permeate so many conversations that I hear.
The very Spirit that so many shun, question and seek to keep controlled is the very One that offers the power needed to prevail, prosper and penetrate the very culture that needs touched. I am mystified that many seem to shy away from the very source that contains the antidote to the ailments that plague their spiritual momentum!
Don't get me wrong, there are many amazing workers and churches here that are doing an awesome work but there are more that are languishing in irrelevance. There is much here that has a form of godliness but denies the power...but that will change.
Potential is the word of the hour here. So much potential, I just pray that it will be activated. There are great victories awaiting those who will dare to believe and allow the Holy Spirit to move freely, powerfully and unexpectedly. He is a wind of truth and activity not a mountain.
I pray, no, I weep and plead that you will open up your sails to the possibilities that the wind of God desires to move you towards. Embrace His unexplainable ways, His mystery, His wildness. Open up your sepulchers and let the breath of Life breathe upon your dry bones again. Open up your ears and listen for the pleadings of your heavenly bridegroom calling you from your comfortable bed chamber. Abandon the comforts and excuses of cleanliness and feigned holiness and get your feet dirty following God again. Can't you hear his voice calling you? Can't you see His hand extended through the opening in the door that you have closed and locked. His hand is on the bolt...beckoning you to arise and come out into the night of the unknown walk. You will have to leave your security, your familiar...your bed. But sleep is all it has given you anyway and though you are asleep...your heart is awake and it longs for more.
I pray that fiery rain will fall again, voices will be baptized with heavenly songs again.
It is time...
Thursday, June 10, 2004
HAMMER OF GOD, ARISE!
Last day in Norway...
What a place, Oslo is quite a city and the Norwegian are intelligent, handsome & beautiful, high tech, industrious and obviously prosperous but the one thing that has been painfully absent is faith. I have yet to encounter a witness for Christ in my excursions around the city. Even in Amsterdam I have found that!
In a land that has a striking and powerful mythological history, you would think that a strong presence of Jesus would be encountered.
The city is full of testimony to the Vikings era...it's conquests, strength, courage, adventure and mythology. It's in everything, it pulses in the air and is smelled on the salty winds. The sea, the harbor, the sail boats, the thick stone, the gushing fountains and countless statues with their faces to the heavens.
The place is waiting as much as it is remembering.
It's strange how the Scandinavian countries have been a region that produces the majority of black metal, a hard core, often satanic, nihilistic music genre that is loud, dark and turbulent. It's massively popular here and I can't help but wonder at the roots of such fascination and focus. What historical ground does such a message rise from? What is behind a generations voice that contains such melancholy and dark spiritual matter. Why the hatred of Christianity and faith?
This region is ripe for a strong community of prophets and apostolic people who have fire in their blood. This is a place where the spirit and power of Elijah needs to be released. Jesus prophesied that before the great and terrible day of the Lord the spirit of Elijah would be active and I sense that need here.
The Norwegian don't need a gentle, soft, feminine dominated expression of Faith. Not a balanced, predictable, tame palatable spirit. They don't need nice little quiet times, inspiration music, pastels, veggie tales and frilly bible covers.
They need something raw, virile, potent and wild.
They need men in goat skins who eat insects.
They cry for blood, fire and smoke and One whose feet are burnished bronze, a Deity who walks in the furnace of fires.
They need a God who has eyes that smolder and burn with holy flames.
They need a Lord who has a two edged sword in His mouth.
They need a tattooed God, whose legs bear the tribal markings of "Kings of Kings and Lord of Lords".
This people need spiritual Vikings that will stir up the God given spirit of dominion in their blood. They need those who can blow the spiritual horn of war that will awaken a long silent voice of spiritual conquest and vengeance.
They need the prophetic voice of God to summon a generation out of meaningless hedonistic pursuits and sacrifice all on the cause of Christ.
There is a hammer of God for this nation and it's clarion call can be heard for those that have ears to hear.
Not the mere hammer of a shadow myth named Thor but the Hammer of God's mighty WORD. A HAMMER OF THUNDER that contains the eternal voice of God almighty that smashes hard hearts and demolishes the sinful prisons and shackles of bondage.
My spirit weeps for such a generation to arise here, for such adventures, wild men and women to launch again from these shores. I know they are here, I sense their drum beating hearts in the ground as I walk these streets. I feel the breath of prophesy on the winds of the sea as they blow on my face. My prayers mingle with the wind of God and blow on the embers of destiny in this nation...
ARISE, HAMMER OF GOD...RISE!
What a place, Oslo is quite a city and the Norwegian are intelligent, handsome & beautiful, high tech, industrious and obviously prosperous but the one thing that has been painfully absent is faith. I have yet to encounter a witness for Christ in my excursions around the city. Even in Amsterdam I have found that!
In a land that has a striking and powerful mythological history, you would think that a strong presence of Jesus would be encountered.
The city is full of testimony to the Vikings era...it's conquests, strength, courage, adventure and mythology. It's in everything, it pulses in the air and is smelled on the salty winds. The sea, the harbor, the sail boats, the thick stone, the gushing fountains and countless statues with their faces to the heavens.
The place is waiting as much as it is remembering.
It's strange how the Scandinavian countries have been a region that produces the majority of black metal, a hard core, often satanic, nihilistic music genre that is loud, dark and turbulent. It's massively popular here and I can't help but wonder at the roots of such fascination and focus. What historical ground does such a message rise from? What is behind a generations voice that contains such melancholy and dark spiritual matter. Why the hatred of Christianity and faith?
This region is ripe for a strong community of prophets and apostolic people who have fire in their blood. This is a place where the spirit and power of Elijah needs to be released. Jesus prophesied that before the great and terrible day of the Lord the spirit of Elijah would be active and I sense that need here.
The Norwegian don't need a gentle, soft, feminine dominated expression of Faith. Not a balanced, predictable, tame palatable spirit. They don't need nice little quiet times, inspiration music, pastels, veggie tales and frilly bible covers.
They need something raw, virile, potent and wild.
They need men in goat skins who eat insects.
They cry for blood, fire and smoke and One whose feet are burnished bronze, a Deity who walks in the furnace of fires.
They need a God who has eyes that smolder and burn with holy flames.
They need a Lord who has a two edged sword in His mouth.
They need a tattooed God, whose legs bear the tribal markings of "Kings of Kings and Lord of Lords".
This people need spiritual Vikings that will stir up the God given spirit of dominion in their blood. They need those who can blow the spiritual horn of war that will awaken a long silent voice of spiritual conquest and vengeance.
They need the prophetic voice of God to summon a generation out of meaningless hedonistic pursuits and sacrifice all on the cause of Christ.
There is a hammer of God for this nation and it's clarion call can be heard for those that have ears to hear.
Not the mere hammer of a shadow myth named Thor but the Hammer of God's mighty WORD. A HAMMER OF THUNDER that contains the eternal voice of God almighty that smashes hard hearts and demolishes the sinful prisons and shackles of bondage.
My spirit weeps for such a generation to arise here, for such adventures, wild men and women to launch again from these shores. I know they are here, I sense their drum beating hearts in the ground as I walk these streets. I feel the breath of prophesy on the winds of the sea as they blow on my face. My prayers mingle with the wind of God and blow on the embers of destiny in this nation...
ARISE, HAMMER OF GOD...RISE!
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
The land of the Vikings
Well, I made it to the land of the Vikings and I love it already. Oslo, Norway is a lot like a big city in the USA and its not. Norway is beautiful, rolling hills, deep green forests, tons of water, fjords and clean air..finally.
Oslo is a very clean, slick and modern city with a very Icelandic flare. Huge fountains, giant statues a lot of women statues so far, everyone of them is nude so a lot of breasts in this city...strange indeed, even on the advertisements, which was a bit surprising since that isn't even the case in Amsterdam.
There are lots of parks, and American restaurants (which isn't the case in Amsterdam). The people are beautiful, tan skin, dark hair and real blue eyes. The men are tall and big like me...Vikings are large...not fat, but big, I finally fit in :)
We are being escorted around by a friend named Anja. She is 25, Norwegian and an artist from a small town in Norway. She loves God and has a wicked sense of humor, a tough chick.
Today, we take a ferry across a fjord and visit an Island that has a Viking museum and a bunch of tourist sights, castle, etc...
It's a beautiful day here, so it should be a great day for pictures. It's nice to slow down and recoup after such a busy trip, I think the sea and the air will do me some good.
Oslo is a very clean, slick and modern city with a very Icelandic flare. Huge fountains, giant statues a lot of women statues so far, everyone of them is nude so a lot of breasts in this city...strange indeed, even on the advertisements, which was a bit surprising since that isn't even the case in Amsterdam.
There are lots of parks, and American restaurants (which isn't the case in Amsterdam). The people are beautiful, tan skin, dark hair and real blue eyes. The men are tall and big like me...Vikings are large...not fat, but big, I finally fit in :)
We are being escorted around by a friend named Anja. She is 25, Norwegian and an artist from a small town in Norway. She loves God and has a wicked sense of humor, a tough chick.
Today, we take a ferry across a fjord and visit an Island that has a Viking museum and a bunch of tourist sights, castle, etc...
It's a beautiful day here, so it should be a great day for pictures. It's nice to slow down and recoup after such a busy trip, I think the sea and the air will do me some good.
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Holy tears, the spirit and the father's love...
I really can't put into words how much the lord has blesses me this trip. It has been a whirlwind tour, I have hardly had much time to myself at all, which is really different.
Christa has served me and help put together a trip that went beyond my expectations. Arranging housing, meetings, retreat, lunches, dinners and travel...she has been amazing. It is awesome to see how the Lord has taken that first meeting years ago in a church service here in Amsterdam and turned it into a door of ministry and friendship in this city.
I have had soooo many deep talks, so much heart to heart stuff that at times I am left feeling completely depleted. The questions here are so deep and there are so many people struggling with purpose and many that know about God but are starving to experience Him.
Here is a glimpse at some of my most treasured moments:
Ministering about the power and person of the holy spirit at the retreat for three power packed but gentle times of teaching. Seeing the Lord move by His power and love and melt resistant hearts and break in on them and bring them to tears. Seeing relationships being restored and sons reaching out to a loveless father and mother. Seeing Dutch minds grapple with the mysterious ministry of the Holy spirit has been awesome. They are so logical and critical thinkers but they are desperate for love too.
Seeing a young Dutch woman weep tears of gratefulness as I ministered a word of encouragement and helped her see her gifts that had been in operation all weekend but she had never had them recognized. Watching those tears spill over her cheeks as we drove through Holland was so holy. He truly binds up the broken hearted.
The conversation with a Dutch girl who was not a Christian, she kept asking questions, more and more and more...my testimony, my work at martin hall, my doubts and about other faiths, my family, Alicia, on and on she kept soaking it all in.
Sitting in a cafe 11 floors up in the sky cafe, gazing over all of Amsterdam on a cloudless day, while I ministered destiny, purpose and the fathers tender love to a dear Dutch young man that has quickly become a friend. Seeing his hungry and searching soul in those pericing eyes, as clear and deep as the skyline behind him. Holy moments in beautiful places.
Deep talks with missionaries, the kind of talks that if you only had just that one...it was worth the whole trip.
Friendships with Dutch people finally...I can't tell you how precious that has been. A card from those that participated in the retreat...wow, the words written in it were soooooooo precious to me. Their expressions of love and thankfulness were worth more than gold.
Worshiping God in my room overlooking central station and the masses of souls that need Jesus...man, words can not contain the depth of tender love and passionate embrace that came from the father's heart and out of my soul...
There is so much more but I have to catch a plane to Norway for the next part of this adventure. God has opened amazing doors and answers to prayer that have long been prayed. He is a faithful God that goes beyond anything we could "dare ask". What an amazing God!
Eric
Christa has served me and help put together a trip that went beyond my expectations. Arranging housing, meetings, retreat, lunches, dinners and travel...she has been amazing. It is awesome to see how the Lord has taken that first meeting years ago in a church service here in Amsterdam and turned it into a door of ministry and friendship in this city.
I have had soooo many deep talks, so much heart to heart stuff that at times I am left feeling completely depleted. The questions here are so deep and there are so many people struggling with purpose and many that know about God but are starving to experience Him.
Here is a glimpse at some of my most treasured moments:
Ministering about the power and person of the holy spirit at the retreat for three power packed but gentle times of teaching. Seeing the Lord move by His power and love and melt resistant hearts and break in on them and bring them to tears. Seeing relationships being restored and sons reaching out to a loveless father and mother. Seeing Dutch minds grapple with the mysterious ministry of the Holy spirit has been awesome. They are so logical and critical thinkers but they are desperate for love too.
Seeing a young Dutch woman weep tears of gratefulness as I ministered a word of encouragement and helped her see her gifts that had been in operation all weekend but she had never had them recognized. Watching those tears spill over her cheeks as we drove through Holland was so holy. He truly binds up the broken hearted.
The conversation with a Dutch girl who was not a Christian, she kept asking questions, more and more and more...my testimony, my work at martin hall, my doubts and about other faiths, my family, Alicia, on and on she kept soaking it all in.
Sitting in a cafe 11 floors up in the sky cafe, gazing over all of Amsterdam on a cloudless day, while I ministered destiny, purpose and the fathers tender love to a dear Dutch young man that has quickly become a friend. Seeing his hungry and searching soul in those pericing eyes, as clear and deep as the skyline behind him. Holy moments in beautiful places.
Deep talks with missionaries, the kind of talks that if you only had just that one...it was worth the whole trip.
Friendships with Dutch people finally...I can't tell you how precious that has been. A card from those that participated in the retreat...wow, the words written in it were soooooooo precious to me. Their expressions of love and thankfulness were worth more than gold.
Worshiping God in my room overlooking central station and the masses of souls that need Jesus...man, words can not contain the depth of tender love and passionate embrace that came from the father's heart and out of my soul...
There is so much more but I have to catch a plane to Norway for the next part of this adventure. God has opened amazing doors and answers to prayer that have long been prayed. He is a faithful God that goes beyond anything we could "dare ask". What an amazing God!
Eric
Friday, June 04, 2004
Skin, puke, madmen and fear...
It's a difficult thing to try to explain Amsterdam.
It's a mix of so many different experiences, people, smells, sights and sounds. But one thing is for sure...it's not what I am used too.
I think you become used too almost anything once you are around it for a while. I think that can be good and bad.
There is a lot here that slaps me in the face but hardly fazes others who live here.
Here are a few things I have seen in the city. Most of them while walking at night, which is what everyone does. The streets are full of people at evening and night though usually for different reasons than the day.
On a walk the other night from an evening of conversation with a friend I encountered a wildly drunk man stumbling towards us, waving his hands and bearing the eyes of man slightly crazy, lost and dangerous.
I passed a person laying in a door way, covering up with a light jacket for a night in the cold. They didn't look like a street person. I passed and looked and then my heart caught up with me and I wondered about the how, the why and...kept walking.
A madman dressed in shorts and wearing a belt with a chain and the head of tweety hanging from it, was talking to a garbage can. He was deranged, mumbling something that made sense only to himself...but he was on a mission for sure.
People sitting drinking their beers on the canals of a beautiful city with their significant others. Just sitting...not talking. Blank looks on their faces. Cold, detatched...empty.
A crowd, a puke covered street, a young man losing his life with a face as pale as death. A policeman trying to awaken someone's boy who had been stung by satan's stinger. Drugs claiming another soul. The people just walking by as someone's little boy was spewing vomit and dying, a mere spectacle for tourists. We just kept walking, past people, some laughing.
I was horrified.
The metro at night is enough to scare a strong man into a weenie. Dark paths, mumbling drunks, beggars, too man people meandering for your own good. People following you at a distance that makes you look backwards more than forwards. Every corner the home of Jack the ripper. Men cursing in the blackness...
Dirty streets, filth, empty beer cans, the smell of marijuana kicking you in the nose. Body odor and clouds of cigarette smoke clinging to your skin. Humidity and lots of sweat.
So many people, jostling together, murmuring voices, uninviting eyes except from criminals and predators.
Scantily clad women on every corner, earning a buck on the normal streets, a few euros and a drink and a show for the restaurant and those walking by...skin is in.
Everything presses in on you like a sauna and you don't realize you have been holding your breath until you shut the door and lock it and realize you exhale a little too loud...
God help this city, it needs you desperately.
It's a mix of so many different experiences, people, smells, sights and sounds. But one thing is for sure...it's not what I am used too.
I think you become used too almost anything once you are around it for a while. I think that can be good and bad.
There is a lot here that slaps me in the face but hardly fazes others who live here.
Here are a few things I have seen in the city. Most of them while walking at night, which is what everyone does. The streets are full of people at evening and night though usually for different reasons than the day.
On a walk the other night from an evening of conversation with a friend I encountered a wildly drunk man stumbling towards us, waving his hands and bearing the eyes of man slightly crazy, lost and dangerous.
I passed a person laying in a door way, covering up with a light jacket for a night in the cold. They didn't look like a street person. I passed and looked and then my heart caught up with me and I wondered about the how, the why and...kept walking.
A madman dressed in shorts and wearing a belt with a chain and the head of tweety hanging from it, was talking to a garbage can. He was deranged, mumbling something that made sense only to himself...but he was on a mission for sure.
People sitting drinking their beers on the canals of a beautiful city with their significant others. Just sitting...not talking. Blank looks on their faces. Cold, detatched...empty.
A crowd, a puke covered street, a young man losing his life with a face as pale as death. A policeman trying to awaken someone's boy who had been stung by satan's stinger. Drugs claiming another soul. The people just walking by as someone's little boy was spewing vomit and dying, a mere spectacle for tourists. We just kept walking, past people, some laughing.
I was horrified.
The metro at night is enough to scare a strong man into a weenie. Dark paths, mumbling drunks, beggars, too man people meandering for your own good. People following you at a distance that makes you look backwards more than forwards. Every corner the home of Jack the ripper. Men cursing in the blackness...
Dirty streets, filth, empty beer cans, the smell of marijuana kicking you in the nose. Body odor and clouds of cigarette smoke clinging to your skin. Humidity and lots of sweat.
So many people, jostling together, murmuring voices, uninviting eyes except from criminals and predators.
Scantily clad women on every corner, earning a buck on the normal streets, a few euros and a drink and a show for the restaurant and those walking by...skin is in.
Everything presses in on you like a sauna and you don't realize you have been holding your breath until you shut the door and lock it and realize you exhale a little too loud...
God help this city, it needs you desperately.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Amsterdam update
Wow...it's already been 3 days!
A lot has been going on and I have been really enjoying myself on this trip. I have been staying with Jeremy Isom at his house while his wife is away on a trip to the states. He has an awesome home right in the center of Amsterdam. So I can walk to everywhere I need to go. We have been hanging out each night over coffee and talking like a bunch of conversation starved women :)
We are both at similar crossroads in life and ministry and have had a lot to talk about. This trip we have really been able to cut through all the superficial stuff and really talk about our lives and ministries, family and marriages. Good stuff! Definitely a God thing. I look forward to seeing this relationship grow...you don't get a lot of these kinds of friendships in ministry, so it's refreshing.
I have been hanging out with Christa too. Again having a lot of real deep conversations and planning the weekend retreat that I am speaking at. I went to her Alpha group last night which is the group that will be at the retreat. It was really awesome. There is about 20 of them form various different spiritual backgrounds. All of them are there at this course to learn about Christianity. There are many at various levels of commitment to Jesus and some exploring or just looking. It was a great night. We watched a video on "God's guidance" and then broke up and discussed it. I had a lot of good conversations and was able to share my testimony with a young adult Dutch guy who said he was a believer in God but not yet a believer in Jesus. The night was rich and it looks like its going to be a great weekend.
Pray for me though because the topic of the Holy Spirit is a sensitive one over her and there is a lot of misunderstanding and apprehension about spiritual things.
Plus I most likely will be sharing with a Dutch interpreter and that always is a challenge in communication.
During the meeting I had a really interesting thing happen.
a young man name Danny was sharing some of his struggles to the small group and in his conversation he mentioned that he needed God to just give him a hug. When he said that, the Holy Spirit leaped within me. I was instantly moved and kind of surprised my the suddenness of it. This morning while I was studying the alpha material for the weekend there was a portion in the study that said:
Being filled with the Spirit is like walking with your father hand in hand and suddenly he stops and looks at you, leans down and picks you up and hugs you! it's like a smothering embrace of love form your heavenly father. I instantly had a confirmation that the Lord is going to "hug" us this weekend. It was really a cool little thing. I can't wait to share it with Danny this weekend after God fills him with His Spirit!
Wait till I show the pictures of the YWAM cafe in Amsterdam center. A way cool cafe, totally modern, and they are reaching out and touching all kinds of people and they serve beer. LOL! Only in Amsterdam! I laughed my butt off...oh how people would freak in the states. Ministry is quite different here! The neatest people though. I will be staying at the YWAM (Youth With A Mission) building that has the cafe later this week. I met the lead guy(BART) who runs the youth ministries for YWAM here in Amsterdam, he is letting me stay there for free...very nice price indeed!
I will be heading up to Norway next Tuesday-Thursday and be staying in OSLO. I've always had a heart for the Scandinavian countries and have an awesome window of opportunity that just came up, so we will see what is going to happen. Jeremy is trying to hook me up with a leader there who runs a ministry called SUB-CHURCH, an edgy alternative ministry run by a bunch of Christian head bangers. Just my style!
So keep me in prayer...I already feel great and the sore throat is gone that was plaguing me for the first 3 days. Thank God...I thought I might of had strep because Austin came down with it. But today is good.
Well, thank you for your prayers...
I'll write more about my walk through Amsterdam the other night and how it was like walking through Dante's inferno! Very tragic and surreal...
A lot has been going on and I have been really enjoying myself on this trip. I have been staying with Jeremy Isom at his house while his wife is away on a trip to the states. He has an awesome home right in the center of Amsterdam. So I can walk to everywhere I need to go. We have been hanging out each night over coffee and talking like a bunch of conversation starved women :)
We are both at similar crossroads in life and ministry and have had a lot to talk about. This trip we have really been able to cut through all the superficial stuff and really talk about our lives and ministries, family and marriages. Good stuff! Definitely a God thing. I look forward to seeing this relationship grow...you don't get a lot of these kinds of friendships in ministry, so it's refreshing.
I have been hanging out with Christa too. Again having a lot of real deep conversations and planning the weekend retreat that I am speaking at. I went to her Alpha group last night which is the group that will be at the retreat. It was really awesome. There is about 20 of them form various different spiritual backgrounds. All of them are there at this course to learn about Christianity. There are many at various levels of commitment to Jesus and some exploring or just looking. It was a great night. We watched a video on "God's guidance" and then broke up and discussed it. I had a lot of good conversations and was able to share my testimony with a young adult Dutch guy who said he was a believer in God but not yet a believer in Jesus. The night was rich and it looks like its going to be a great weekend.
Pray for me though because the topic of the Holy Spirit is a sensitive one over her and there is a lot of misunderstanding and apprehension about spiritual things.
Plus I most likely will be sharing with a Dutch interpreter and that always is a challenge in communication.
During the meeting I had a really interesting thing happen.
a young man name Danny was sharing some of his struggles to the small group and in his conversation he mentioned that he needed God to just give him a hug. When he said that, the Holy Spirit leaped within me. I was instantly moved and kind of surprised my the suddenness of it. This morning while I was studying the alpha material for the weekend there was a portion in the study that said:
Being filled with the Spirit is like walking with your father hand in hand and suddenly he stops and looks at you, leans down and picks you up and hugs you! it's like a smothering embrace of love form your heavenly father. I instantly had a confirmation that the Lord is going to "hug" us this weekend. It was really a cool little thing. I can't wait to share it with Danny this weekend after God fills him with His Spirit!
Wait till I show the pictures of the YWAM cafe in Amsterdam center. A way cool cafe, totally modern, and they are reaching out and touching all kinds of people and they serve beer. LOL! Only in Amsterdam! I laughed my butt off...oh how people would freak in the states. Ministry is quite different here! The neatest people though. I will be staying at the YWAM (Youth With A Mission) building that has the cafe later this week. I met the lead guy(BART) who runs the youth ministries for YWAM here in Amsterdam, he is letting me stay there for free...very nice price indeed!
I will be heading up to Norway next Tuesday-Thursday and be staying in OSLO. I've always had a heart for the Scandinavian countries and have an awesome window of opportunity that just came up, so we will see what is going to happen. Jeremy is trying to hook me up with a leader there who runs a ministry called SUB-CHURCH, an edgy alternative ministry run by a bunch of Christian head bangers. Just my style!
So keep me in prayer...I already feel great and the sore throat is gone that was plaguing me for the first 3 days. Thank God...I thought I might of had strep because Austin came down with it. But today is good.
Well, thank you for your prayers...
I'll write more about my walk through Amsterdam the other night and how it was like walking through Dante's inferno! Very tragic and surreal...
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Whose throwing these kids in?
Whatever else the Gospel may be, it may clean up your marriage, it may solve your drinking problem, it may do all kinds of other wonderful things, but if it isnt good news to poor people, its not yet the Gospel.
Wallis is adamant that the Church needs to do more than give money to their favorite charity when it comes to following the teachings of Jesus in regards to the poor. Its not enough to write a check and throw money at your favorite faith-based organization, its also not enough to roll up your sleeves and get on the ground and work directly with and alongside the poor. You cant keep pulling bodies out of the river, and not send someone upstream to find out whos throwing them in.
-Jim Wallis
I am searching up river now...and God seems to be showing me the way. Be careful when you take notice of burning bushes and take your shoes off because a "Go Finger" is coming your way...
Whatever else the Gospel may be, it may clean up your marriage, it may solve your drinking problem, it may do all kinds of other wonderful things, but if it isnt good news to poor people, its not yet the Gospel.
Wallis is adamant that the Church needs to do more than give money to their favorite charity when it comes to following the teachings of Jesus in regards to the poor. Its not enough to write a check and throw money at your favorite faith-based organization, its also not enough to roll up your sleeves and get on the ground and work directly with and alongside the poor. You cant keep pulling bodies out of the river, and not send someone upstream to find out whos throwing them in.
-Jim Wallis
I am searching up river now...and God seems to be showing me the way. Be careful when you take notice of burning bushes and take your shoes off because a "Go Finger" is coming your way...
Monday, May 24, 2004
In the arm of a Junkie
We were driving up to Martin Hall, having a pretty deep discussion about life, purpose and the mystery of an elusive and sometimes hidden God.
He said he was looking for God and I said...
"If you find Him, tell Him I'm looking for Him too."
I found Him yet again that night in the arm of a young junkie.
Her name is Chelsea. She is 14, "almost 15" as young girls like to always say. She is as pretty as a puppy. Kind of looked like Avril Lavigne without the toughness until you looked at her little arms.
One arms was a mass of little black pin pricks...needle injection holes...she's a mainliner. On the other arm was a host of cuts, small little cuts running up and down her soft little skin...she is also a cutter.
I talked on Mark 5, the demon man who lived in the grave yard and spent his time cutting himself self with stones, screaming at the moon and lived among the dead. I talked about a generation that were dead men walking, that had a legion of demons with names. I shared about how no one could shackle this generation, they were mad, in agony and full of rage.
And I talked about how Jesus came to him and confronted his demons, named them and drove them out. We ended the night talking about being clothed in your right mind, sitting at the feet of Jesus and then going to tell your friends, family and relatives about the good things God has done for you.
God was in the house.
I asked for those who wanted prayer. Many raised their hands, so did Chelsea. After prayer I asked who wanted to talk one on one...Chelsea's hand jumped up, her eyes were alive and face almost shining. I sat next to her. Her first words: "you almost made me cry with that prayer..."
We talked, she shared, she wanted to pray but not after sharing that she was from Spokane and had no where to go when she got out...no where to go. What do you tell a girl that says that? I asked if I could pray for her and I did. I leaned as close as I could to a inmate and gently touched her shoulder and whispered prayers into a little girls ears. Prayers that I prayed to God had the power of creation at their beckon call. Prayers that I begged would draw heaven's attention to this little junkie.
When I stopped there were tears on the table. God have mercy I wanted to hold that little child. I told her if I were your daddy right now...I would hug you and hug you and hug you and hug you. Oh how I meant it with all the love of God found on this cursed planet.
I wanted to hold a child that had been raped by her own father from when she was 11 to 13. I wanted to hold a junkie and pray that poison out of her little veins. I wanted to touch her arms and see those scars disappear.
Oh, how I wanted...but couldn't.
After that as I drove home...God spoke to my heart about my future. I will share more about that soon.
We were driving up to Martin Hall, having a pretty deep discussion about life, purpose and the mystery of an elusive and sometimes hidden God.
He said he was looking for God and I said...
"If you find Him, tell Him I'm looking for Him too."
I found Him yet again that night in the arm of a young junkie.
Her name is Chelsea. She is 14, "almost 15" as young girls like to always say. She is as pretty as a puppy. Kind of looked like Avril Lavigne without the toughness until you looked at her little arms.
One arms was a mass of little black pin pricks...needle injection holes...she's a mainliner. On the other arm was a host of cuts, small little cuts running up and down her soft little skin...she is also a cutter.
I talked on Mark 5, the demon man who lived in the grave yard and spent his time cutting himself self with stones, screaming at the moon and lived among the dead. I talked about a generation that were dead men walking, that had a legion of demons with names. I shared about how no one could shackle this generation, they were mad, in agony and full of rage.
And I talked about how Jesus came to him and confronted his demons, named them and drove them out. We ended the night talking about being clothed in your right mind, sitting at the feet of Jesus and then going to tell your friends, family and relatives about the good things God has done for you.
God was in the house.
I asked for those who wanted prayer. Many raised their hands, so did Chelsea. After prayer I asked who wanted to talk one on one...Chelsea's hand jumped up, her eyes were alive and face almost shining. I sat next to her. Her first words: "you almost made me cry with that prayer..."
We talked, she shared, she wanted to pray but not after sharing that she was from Spokane and had no where to go when she got out...no where to go. What do you tell a girl that says that? I asked if I could pray for her and I did. I leaned as close as I could to a inmate and gently touched her shoulder and whispered prayers into a little girls ears. Prayers that I prayed to God had the power of creation at their beckon call. Prayers that I begged would draw heaven's attention to this little junkie.
When I stopped there were tears on the table. God have mercy I wanted to hold that little child. I told her if I were your daddy right now...I would hug you and hug you and hug you and hug you. Oh how I meant it with all the love of God found on this cursed planet.
I wanted to hold a child that had been raped by her own father from when she was 11 to 13. I wanted to hold a junkie and pray that poison out of her little veins. I wanted to touch her arms and see those scars disappear.
Oh, how I wanted...but couldn't.
After that as I drove home...God spoke to my heart about my future. I will share more about that soon.
Sunday, May 23, 2004
No Man hands
"Is that your minister in immaculate broadcloth and shiny boots, turning the leaves of his Bible with lily-fingers? Pardon me that I did not recognize him. You see I have been reading of John the Baptist with his raiment of camel's hair, of Christ with his single garment, tramping barefoot, unshaven and unshorn over Judea's blazing hills."
- Brann's "Iconoclast"
One of the most humiliating moments of my life...
There was a woman leader I had in a youth ministry I used to lead that had a serious infatuation with me. She had discussed her problem with my wife and I and we had known about it for a while. it was a strange and awkward thing because she was married and we were all pretty close. I wasn't sure what the answer to the problem was going to be.
Then one day after a service we were all closing in prayer and she was next to me on one side and held my hand. I didn't think much about it but later that year she confessed something.
She said the spell had been broken.
What was it that shook her from her madness?
Holding my hand.
She said it was a weak and lilty hand, feeble not strong.
It turned her off.
Well, problem solved for her...but not for me.
That one comment was like a blow from Thor's hammer upon my poor fragile ego...I didn't have man hands...Arghhhhhhh!
I was spiritual, bible bred, could converse, discuss, think and debate. I could write, sing, play guitar and preach with passion. I was visionary, insightful, caring, loving and in touch with my feelings.
But...I didn't have man hands.
The church had taught me how to connect with spirit but not with earth.
As we explore the path ahead for this Saturday night service, one of the things I know one thing I long to see. It's a place where men can learn to be men and be spiritual too. Not a feminized man...not a metro-sexual but a godly MAN. Not a He-man girl hating club but a balanced man friendly environment.
Rom 10:15. "How beautiful are the feet of those that preach the gospel of Peace."
"Is that your minister in immaculate broadcloth and shiny boots, turning the leaves of his Bible with lily-fingers? Pardon me that I did not recognize him. You see I have been reading of John the Baptist with his raiment of camel's hair, of Christ with his single garment, tramping barefoot, unshaven and unshorn over Judea's blazing hills."
- Brann's "Iconoclast"
One of the most humiliating moments of my life...
There was a woman leader I had in a youth ministry I used to lead that had a serious infatuation with me. She had discussed her problem with my wife and I and we had known about it for a while. it was a strange and awkward thing because she was married and we were all pretty close. I wasn't sure what the answer to the problem was going to be.
Then one day after a service we were all closing in prayer and she was next to me on one side and held my hand. I didn't think much about it but later that year she confessed something.
She said the spell had been broken.
What was it that shook her from her madness?
Holding my hand.
She said it was a weak and lilty hand, feeble not strong.
It turned her off.
Well, problem solved for her...but not for me.
That one comment was like a blow from Thor's hammer upon my poor fragile ego...I didn't have man hands...Arghhhhhhh!
I was spiritual, bible bred, could converse, discuss, think and debate. I could write, sing, play guitar and preach with passion. I was visionary, insightful, caring, loving and in touch with my feelings.
But...I didn't have man hands.
The church had taught me how to connect with spirit but not with earth.
As we explore the path ahead for this Saturday night service, one of the things I know one thing I long to see. It's a place where men can learn to be men and be spiritual too. Not a feminized man...not a metro-sexual but a godly MAN. Not a He-man girl hating club but a balanced man friendly environment.
Rom 10:15. "How beautiful are the feet of those that preach the gospel of Peace."
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Sometimes my feelings are so hot that I have to take the pen and put them out on paper to keep them from setting me afire inside; then all that ink and labor are wasted becasue I can't print the results." -Mark Twain
Friday, May 21, 2004
Stale bread...I'm still hunting for good tunes...Listening to "A Beautiful Let Down" by satisfied right now on recommendation of Mike and Scott. It's ok so far.
But I heard a couple of Judas Priest songs on the radio (Heads Are Gonna Roll and Turbo Lover) today and they ROCKED! 100% pure enjoyment, it made everything else seem like stale bread...I hate that.
But I heard a couple of Judas Priest songs on the radio (Heads Are Gonna Roll and Turbo Lover) today and they ROCKED! 100% pure enjoyment, it made everything else seem like stale bread...I hate that.
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
This quote has captured what I fear is taking place with the whole war on terror. I am having serious reservations about the use of the sword by government. I am really trying to reconcile my faith and the spirit that it creates and demands and the place of citizenship, patriotism and justice.
I feel like James and John and I don't know what spirit I am of...
- Friedrich Nietzsche
This quote has captured what I fear is taking place with the whole war on terror. I am having serious reservations about the use of the sword by government. I am really trying to reconcile my faith and the spirit that it creates and demands and the place of citizenship, patriotism and justice.
I feel like James and John and I don't know what spirit I am of...
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
I'm tired of men who smell like girls
What is a man?
What makes a man feel like a man and why does he want to feel like a man?
What person do you think of when you think of a manly man?
Who do you admire and look up to and your consciousness grabs as the image of a man?
Is he a goody goody? A soft man? A pure and sweet guy? A gentle and pretty fella?
Clean shaven, cropped hair and pressed clothes, a disciple of the Fab Five...a man in panties?
That is what I see in the church and of late, it is grinding on my mind.
What kind of men are we wanting to see emerge?
Do we want a bunch of Mr. Rogers in sweats and sneakers, shuffling around playing with play doh and singing nursery rhymes?
I'm tired of men who smell like girls, who talk quiet and walk with their heads down.
I'm weary of soft hands, clean clothes and faces with no wrinkles.
I want to take a sledgehammer to the men's product isle...curses on hair dye, face creme, moisturizer, hair pieces and plugs! Can't anyone face the fact that men look like men and boys look like boys?
We are rasing a generation that can't build anything, work on a car or plant a crop. Boys that don't know how to work hard and don't sweat anymore. They have been raised by women and spend more time crying than fighting life. They need band aids for every little cut. They have been taught how to be amicable and tolerant and in a short time we have feminized a generation of boys. You can take the shirt, tie and fancy pants and shove it!
In the end I find myself wanting to hang out with my grandpa Warren sitting in his Jimmy in a cloud of tobacco smoke, heading up into the woods to fall a tree and drag it out of a ravine than anything else.
I miss the smell of a chainsaw, fresh cut wood and dirt. The sound of a hammer. The smell of an old truck cab and the feel of worn out vinyl, a 76 ball shift stick with the letters rubbed off. I want to feel muscle not fat.
I want a man to sing me the Marine Core theme song like Warren used to do, as we would drive out of the mountains back to town where the prissy boys lived.
Man! I miss those days...
ps. None of the above was a personal slam on any of you who may do the above mentioned things. The thoughts are to be taken in a meta view not micro, k?
What is a man?
What makes a man feel like a man and why does he want to feel like a man?
What person do you think of when you think of a manly man?
Who do you admire and look up to and your consciousness grabs as the image of a man?
Is he a goody goody? A soft man? A pure and sweet guy? A gentle and pretty fella?
Clean shaven, cropped hair and pressed clothes, a disciple of the Fab Five...a man in panties?
That is what I see in the church and of late, it is grinding on my mind.
What kind of men are we wanting to see emerge?
Do we want a bunch of Mr. Rogers in sweats and sneakers, shuffling around playing with play doh and singing nursery rhymes?
I'm tired of men who smell like girls, who talk quiet and walk with their heads down.
I'm weary of soft hands, clean clothes and faces with no wrinkles.
I want to take a sledgehammer to the men's product isle...curses on hair dye, face creme, moisturizer, hair pieces and plugs! Can't anyone face the fact that men look like men and boys look like boys?
We are rasing a generation that can't build anything, work on a car or plant a crop. Boys that don't know how to work hard and don't sweat anymore. They have been raised by women and spend more time crying than fighting life. They need band aids for every little cut. They have been taught how to be amicable and tolerant and in a short time we have feminized a generation of boys. You can take the shirt, tie and fancy pants and shove it!
In the end I find myself wanting to hang out with my grandpa Warren sitting in his Jimmy in a cloud of tobacco smoke, heading up into the woods to fall a tree and drag it out of a ravine than anything else.
I miss the smell of a chainsaw, fresh cut wood and dirt. The sound of a hammer. The smell of an old truck cab and the feel of worn out vinyl, a 76 ball shift stick with the letters rubbed off. I want to feel muscle not fat.
I want a man to sing me the Marine Core theme song like Warren used to do, as we would drive out of the mountains back to town where the prissy boys lived.
Man! I miss those days...
ps. None of the above was a personal slam on any of you who may do the above mentioned things. The thoughts are to be taken in a meta view not micro, k?
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Justice doesn't sleep
"My name is Nick Berg. My father's name is Michael. My mother's name is Suzanne," the man, seated in a chair, says. "I have a brother and sister, David and Sara. I live in ... Philadelphia." After the statement, the assailant directly behind Berg takes a large knife from under his clothing while another pulls Berg onto his side. The tape shows assailants thrusting the knife through his neck. A scream sounds before the men cut Berg's head off, repeatedly shouting "Allahu Akbar!" — or "God is great."
I don't ever want to know that God. God have mercy on those who serve such a heinous vision of faith. It makes my stomach churn. I've been a prayer warrior for the world of Islam for years and shed many tears over the crescent moon but this is beyond me. I pray mercy and grace for the Berg family. I look forward to the day when every man will have to give an account to the Lord for his deeds done in the body. Your day is coming Nick...justice doesn't sleep.
Wrong...Thong
Time magazine reported that last year alone, girls between the ages of 13 and 17 spent $152 million on thong underwear.
My head hangs in shame to be a part of a culture that perpetuates such stupidity and waste in a world that sees thousands of children die each day from aids, hunger and preventable diseases.
Girls, put the slingshot back in the garage and go out and put that money to use instead of being a pawn of Victoria. Her secret by the way, is that you're a sucker and she's laughing all the way to the bank.
Boxers are more sexy anyway...
Ghastly
"Forty percent of Americans have never visited a dentist."
Wow, how can that be? That's frightening...
Ouch...
"I can't stand your religious meetings.
I'm fed up with your conferences and conventions.
I want nothing to do with your religion projects,
your pretentious slogans and goals.
I'm sick of your fund-raising schemes,
your public relations and image making.
I've had all I can take of your noisy ego-music.
When was the last time you sang to me?
Do you know what I want?
I want justice -- oceans of it.
I want fairness -- rivers of it.
That's what I want. That's all I want. "
-Amos 5 (The Message Bible)
I'm fed up with your conferences and conventions.
I want nothing to do with your religion projects,
your pretentious slogans and goals.
I'm sick of your fund-raising schemes,
your public relations and image making.
I've had all I can take of your noisy ego-music.
When was the last time you sang to me?
Do you know what I want?
I want justice -- oceans of it.
I want fairness -- rivers of it.
That's what I want. That's all I want. "
-Amos 5 (The Message Bible)
Wow sounds like lyrics right out of Godsmack or something, but nope...it's 100 proof bible.
It left me reeling the first time I read it. Can you get any more straight edge than that?
Bullseye Amos, you nailed it!
Bad ophthalmology
When the two grandest preachers, D.L. Moody and Charles Spurgeon, met each other, Moody asked Spurgeon, "How is it possible for a servant of God to smoke a cigar?" To which Spurgeon responded, "In the same manner that a servant of God like you can have a stomach so big."
Fascinating piece of history...I love this topic.
People usually get all tied up in illogical thinking when trying to pull out splinters from other peoples eyes, I know because I own a plank or two.
Thursday, May 13, 2004
A real pest
A REAL PEST
"For we have found this man a real pest
and a fellow who stirs up dissension
among all the Jews throughout the world,
and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes."
-Acts 24:5
LOL what a reputation! Not something you would want to add to your ministry history resume. Oh to hang out with such people...know any?
They are wild people...they eat strange stuff that others wouldn't find a meal within...grasshopper poppers.
They can extract a message out of life not the other way around.
Their voice is often found in desolate places not palaces and temples.
They wear odd things...skins and such. You can easily mistake them for a madman if you are not attune to the voice within the voice that is crying. They often are mistaken for drunkards, blasphemers, sinners and compromisers.
They are hairy people...they haven't had the wildness shaved off.
They are earthy people, friends of dirt, rock, water and wind.
They find a way to bring people back to the water...to feel it, taste it and be submerged in it again. They are at home in deserts and have to be sought out...they don't advertise.
They are not safe.
They have away of messing up the status quo and leaving you scratching your head.
They are often on the move or being moved on.
They don't fit in to well...they stand out and that often means they are easy targets for the tongue waggers.
They often lose their heads.
"For we have found this man a real pest
and a fellow who stirs up dissension
among all the Jews throughout the world,
and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes."
-Acts 24:5
LOL what a reputation! Not something you would want to add to your ministry history resume. Oh to hang out with such people...know any?
They are wild people...they eat strange stuff that others wouldn't find a meal within...grasshopper poppers.
They can extract a message out of life not the other way around.
Their voice is often found in desolate places not palaces and temples.
They wear odd things...skins and such. You can easily mistake them for a madman if you are not attune to the voice within the voice that is crying. They often are mistaken for drunkards, blasphemers, sinners and compromisers.
They are hairy people...they haven't had the wildness shaved off.
They are earthy people, friends of dirt, rock, water and wind.
They find a way to bring people back to the water...to feel it, taste it and be submerged in it again. They are at home in deserts and have to be sought out...they don't advertise.
They are not safe.
They have away of messing up the status quo and leaving you scratching your head.
They are often on the move or being moved on.
They don't fit in to well...they stand out and that often means they are easy targets for the tongue waggers.
They often lose their heads.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Pixs are online
I dig this new Blogger re-format.
Cool new features...like picture upload and posting from email...
like this post if it worked :)
Natural evangelism
"We give people who we are much more than what we do. The Latin saying had a clever ring to it: 'Nemo dat quod nor hat.' No one can give away what they do not have. And transformed people tend to transform other people -- just by being who they are."
-Richard Rohr, the founder of The Center for Action and Contemplation.
I like this quote because it captures the reality of sharing the Christ life as it is supposed to be shared...natural and honest, not contrived and forced.
"We give people who we are much more than what we do. The Latin saying had a clever ring to it: 'Nemo dat quod nor hat.' No one can give away what they do not have. And transformed people tend to transform other people -- just by being who they are."
-Richard Rohr, the founder of The Center for Action and Contemplation.
I like this quote because it captures the reality of sharing the Christ life as it is supposed to be shared...natural and honest, not contrived and forced.
I quit too...
"I quit," said Charlie. "I walked out. I don't want to teach anymore. Every time I walked into that classroom, I died a little bit."
Tony Campolo says: I could understand him. I'm a teacher, and I know what it's like to go into a class and pour out your heart to students, to let every nerve inside you tingle with the excitement of your most profound insights. I know what it's like to passionately share the struggles of your existence, to lay your soul bare in an attempt to communicate your deepest feelings.
Then, when it's all over, some student in the back of the room raises his hand and says, "Do we have to know this stuff for the final?"
(from a Tony Compolo story)
Oh how this conversation captures my irrepressible apprehension about the way we try to capture God through church services. The more I wrestle with it, the more I find myself coming to the same conclusions...it's so much vanity.
Almost sacrilegious ... this attempt to re-share truth, it's like trying to regurgitate a meal into some recognizable form that someone would want to eat.
It's like trying to explain sex to a virgin...vs the mystery of two lifelong lovers making love...a sacred bloom of passion, with a depth of knowledge that makes your knees weak.
It's like a picture of the grand canyon vs standing on the edge of it and feeling it's ancient winds lift your small spirit off the ground and into the clouds.
A strawberry flavored candy vs one plucked fresh from grandma's garden that when tasted, sends a bolt of flavor right into your socks!
I've concluded that all I can really do is take off my shoes in front of this small burning bush and hope that it will continue to burn...and hope that I can remember the way here and pray that my face will still burn when I get back...
Oh the tragedy and mystery of it all.
"I quit," said Charlie. "I walked out. I don't want to teach anymore. Every time I walked into that classroom, I died a little bit."
Tony Campolo says: I could understand him. I'm a teacher, and I know what it's like to go into a class and pour out your heart to students, to let every nerve inside you tingle with the excitement of your most profound insights. I know what it's like to passionately share the struggles of your existence, to lay your soul bare in an attempt to communicate your deepest feelings.
Then, when it's all over, some student in the back of the room raises his hand and says, "Do we have to know this stuff for the final?"
(from a Tony Compolo story)
Oh how this conversation captures my irrepressible apprehension about the way we try to capture God through church services. The more I wrestle with it, the more I find myself coming to the same conclusions...it's so much vanity.
Almost sacrilegious ... this attempt to re-share truth, it's like trying to regurgitate a meal into some recognizable form that someone would want to eat.
It's like trying to explain sex to a virgin...vs the mystery of two lifelong lovers making love...a sacred bloom of passion, with a depth of knowledge that makes your knees weak.
It's like a picture of the grand canyon vs standing on the edge of it and feeling it's ancient winds lift your small spirit off the ground and into the clouds.
A strawberry flavored candy vs one plucked fresh from grandma's garden that when tasted, sends a bolt of flavor right into your socks!
I've concluded that all I can really do is take off my shoes in front of this small burning bush and hope that it will continue to burn...and hope that I can remember the way here and pray that my face will still burn when I get back...
Oh the tragedy and mystery of it all.
Am I really?
Someone said that stuff I have been writing is "Iconoclastic"
icon·o·clast
Etymology: Medieval Latin iconoclastes, from Middle Greek eikonoklastEs, literally, image destroyer, from Greek eikono- + klan to break —more at CLAST
Date: 1641
1 : one who destroys religious images or opposes their veneration
2 : one who attacks settled beliefs or institutions
I'm not sure what to think about that...
Someone said that stuff I have been writing is "Iconoclastic"
icon·o·clast
Etymology: Medieval Latin iconoclastes, from Middle Greek eikonoklastEs, literally, image destroyer, from Greek eikono- + klan to break —more at CLAST
Date: 1641
1 : one who destroys religious images or opposes their veneration
2 : one who attacks settled beliefs or institutions
I'm not sure what to think about that...
Here is my response to the question asked to me on "why should we plant churches, when there are so many in most big cities?"
Life gives birth to life. It's God's way in nature and in the spirit. If something is alive it gives birth. Birth is not only God's intend means of keeping the species from going extinct but also the means of perpetuating culture, faith and family.
One church in a region, many congregations so that "church" can be cared for. Most people are not cared for because our churches are too big or structured in such a way that real relationships and Jesus style life together isn't surviving the religious agenda and calendar.
Do your statistics and you will see that most regions are not significantly encompassing many non believers at a very healthy rate. There are thousands not being touched. It's not about who isn't doing it or why they are not but how can we. And if we can than we should in God's timing and way.
What If we narrowed the conversation down to this statement:
How come there are so many Christians gathering together to worship the Lord and love each other and serve their neighbors? And should more gather?
You would say: Go for it! Most likely, right.
Thinking gets all complicated when you start saying: where should they gather...and that has been one of the most sterile producing conversations going on in the church.
Jesus had the same conversation with the woman at the well...she was hung up on all the same religious mumbo jumbo about...who & where. Thank God Jesus said a day was coming and now is...that is different from a "place & who" centered church.
I got all screwed up in my thinking when the church got a hold of me as a young Christian. I lived out the "natural" result of following Jesus as a teen. I got saved, connected with the ones the Lord brought into my life as friends and mentors and began learning and loving on Jesus. I also started sharing Christ...around me and in different places...I simply went. The result...we began to grow. Church life began to happen in small but potent places and times. If maturity could have helped father it and breathe life on it...something amazing could have happened at times.
Simply stated: we make it all too complicated.
Money usually makes it complicated. It's like art and music...if the only reason one seeks to "do art" is because they want to make a living at it...then they are going to be a frustrated artist and probably starve too. Most don't make much money at it. But if you do it because you have to do it, because you would die if you didn't...than you are a true artist.
Take a walk down the street on a typical Sunday morning...you will find your reason for the Lord's call to gather...the harvest is plentiful.
Life gives birth to life. It's God's way in nature and in the spirit. If something is alive it gives birth. Birth is not only God's intend means of keeping the species from going extinct but also the means of perpetuating culture, faith and family.
One church in a region, many congregations so that "church" can be cared for. Most people are not cared for because our churches are too big or structured in such a way that real relationships and Jesus style life together isn't surviving the religious agenda and calendar.
Do your statistics and you will see that most regions are not significantly encompassing many non believers at a very healthy rate. There are thousands not being touched. It's not about who isn't doing it or why they are not but how can we. And if we can than we should in God's timing and way.
What If we narrowed the conversation down to this statement:
How come there are so many Christians gathering together to worship the Lord and love each other and serve their neighbors? And should more gather?
You would say: Go for it! Most likely, right.
Thinking gets all complicated when you start saying: where should they gather...and that has been one of the most sterile producing conversations going on in the church.
Jesus had the same conversation with the woman at the well...she was hung up on all the same religious mumbo jumbo about...who & where. Thank God Jesus said a day was coming and now is...that is different from a "place & who" centered church.
I got all screwed up in my thinking when the church got a hold of me as a young Christian. I lived out the "natural" result of following Jesus as a teen. I got saved, connected with the ones the Lord brought into my life as friends and mentors and began learning and loving on Jesus. I also started sharing Christ...around me and in different places...I simply went. The result...we began to grow. Church life began to happen in small but potent places and times. If maturity could have helped father it and breathe life on it...something amazing could have happened at times.
Simply stated: we make it all too complicated.
Money usually makes it complicated. It's like art and music...if the only reason one seeks to "do art" is because they want to make a living at it...then they are going to be a frustrated artist and probably starve too. Most don't make much money at it. But if you do it because you have to do it, because you would die if you didn't...than you are a true artist.
Take a walk down the street on a typical Sunday morning...you will find your reason for the Lord's call to gather...the harvest is plentiful.
Great little thoughts on big stuff:
"Being controlled by the opinions of others is a guaranteed way to miss God's purpose for your life."
-Rick Warren
"I think all Christians would agree with me if I said that though Christianity seems at first to be all about morality, all about duties and rules and guilt and virtue, yet it leads you on, out of all that, into something beyond. One has a glimpse of a country where they do not talk of those things, except perhaps as a joke. Everyone there is filled full with what we should call goodness as a mirror is filled with light. But they do not call it goodness. They do not call it anything. They are not thinking of it. They are too busy looking at the source from which it comes."
- C.S. Lewis
"To risk is to lose one's foothold for a while; not to risk is to lose one's self forever."
-Soren Kierkegaard
"When the old wineskin is dying, the new wineskin is created by those who are not afraid to be vulnerable."
-Graham Cooke
"Being controlled by the opinions of others is a guaranteed way to miss God's purpose for your life."
-Rick Warren
"I think all Christians would agree with me if I said that though Christianity seems at first to be all about morality, all about duties and rules and guilt and virtue, yet it leads you on, out of all that, into something beyond. One has a glimpse of a country where they do not talk of those things, except perhaps as a joke. Everyone there is filled full with what we should call goodness as a mirror is filled with light. But they do not call it goodness. They do not call it anything. They are not thinking of it. They are too busy looking at the source from which it comes."
- C.S. Lewis
"To risk is to lose one's foothold for a while; not to risk is to lose one's self forever."
-Soren Kierkegaard
"When the old wineskin is dying, the new wineskin is created by those who are not afraid to be vulnerable."
-Graham Cooke
Saturday, May 08, 2004
"When the old wineskin is dying, the new wineskin is created by those who are not afraid to be vulnerable." -Graham Cooke
You’re just seeing a fresh soul vein opened up of late.
It's flowing pretty freely, a bloody mess maybe, but it had to happen.
I love one of the parts of an article I sent out the other day where the pastor said: "Every few years he has to reinvent himself a bit or he will die a little."
That's defiantly taking place right now. I'm owning my thoughts, daring to share them more and truly seeking to walk out a more authentic walk...or at least daring to try to find it.
The old dress shoes just don't fit anymore and walking in them has cramped my toes and furrowed my brow...I'm taking them off.
Yes, it may stink a bit, i've been smashing my feet into these things for way too long...I wish I had listened to the pain sooner.
I'm a bit sensitive (a better word might be raw) right now too; at least until I get some callousness on these feet.
I'm not sure what or if, I will wear any shoes in the future...but right now, free toes are marvelous!
Yep...it's quite difficult trying to do this as a "leader" but in the end I think that's a better quality of leadership than not doing it. But the fact is...life demanded it. I had gone as far as I could go in those shoes...they served me well for the time they were intended to protect me.
But everyone comes to their own burning bush sometime and hears the command to..."remove your shoes...the ground you are on is holy ground."
Moses heard it and so did Joshua.
I'm hearing it right now and like Joshua it comes right as I'm being commissioned to lead a "new generation" into the Promised Land. It's a strange time to hear a call to get naked feet. No call to strap on some trusty army boots. No seemingly wise command to clamp on some steel toes butt kickers...no, simply let your feet touch the cool grass of the earth.
A leader with bare feet...strange indeed.
Does it scare some people? Yes it does.
Does it scare me? Yep!...but that’s ok…at least I am coming alive again.
"To risk is to lose one's foothold for a while; not to risk is to lose one's self forever." - S. Kierkegaard
You’re just seeing a fresh soul vein opened up of late.
It's flowing pretty freely, a bloody mess maybe, but it had to happen.
I love one of the parts of an article I sent out the other day where the pastor said: "Every few years he has to reinvent himself a bit or he will die a little."
That's defiantly taking place right now. I'm owning my thoughts, daring to share them more and truly seeking to walk out a more authentic walk...or at least daring to try to find it.
The old dress shoes just don't fit anymore and walking in them has cramped my toes and furrowed my brow...I'm taking them off.
Yes, it may stink a bit, i've been smashing my feet into these things for way too long...I wish I had listened to the pain sooner.
I'm a bit sensitive (a better word might be raw) right now too; at least until I get some callousness on these feet.
I'm not sure what or if, I will wear any shoes in the future...but right now, free toes are marvelous!
Yep...it's quite difficult trying to do this as a "leader" but in the end I think that's a better quality of leadership than not doing it. But the fact is...life demanded it. I had gone as far as I could go in those shoes...they served me well for the time they were intended to protect me.
But everyone comes to their own burning bush sometime and hears the command to..."remove your shoes...the ground you are on is holy ground."
Moses heard it and so did Joshua.
I'm hearing it right now and like Joshua it comes right as I'm being commissioned to lead a "new generation" into the Promised Land. It's a strange time to hear a call to get naked feet. No call to strap on some trusty army boots. No seemingly wise command to clamp on some steel toes butt kickers...no, simply let your feet touch the cool grass of the earth.
A leader with bare feet...strange indeed.
Does it scare some people? Yes it does.
Does it scare me? Yep!...but that’s ok…at least I am coming alive again.
"To risk is to lose one's foothold for a while; not to risk is to lose one's self forever." - S. Kierkegaard
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Remedies for Radio Rash
Here are a few more thoughts on the stuff that is causing me Radio Rash:
* Don't try so hard, just make music that you like and that is honest about who or where you are.
* Don't feel like it has to be a complete novel in one song...sometimes the beauty in life is when you are "caught a moment," The first breath after a first kiss...the taste of something not the whole meal...
* Let me wrestle with the words...you don't have to make everything so clear. Ambiguity allows me to interact with the music and allows magic to happen. Each song can mean something different for everyone.
* Don't produce music that always smells like it just came out of the wash...the story of the jeans is how they got dirty too. Scars make for great storytelling.
* Quit acting like a choir boy...if I wanted to listen to a girl I would...be a man.
* Remember Jesus chose a wild man to baptize him into public life not a priest...beginnings are important...where you start can define where you end up sometimes.
* People live in the world, a world which God made and owns, tell me about how you live in this place without losing your center. I've not been to heaven but I live on earth. Talk to me about the stuff that I see, hear and feel everyday but need to hear about it through other eyes, so I can see my world anew.
* Be influenced but be you...crossdressers make lame musicians and poets.
* I need to hear the war cry again...much of the music out there seems created for the nursery. Give me something that changes the temperature of my blood, makes me want to yell like a man not whisper like a woman.
* Be creative...God isn't monochrome. With a world full of instruments and cultures you would think Christians would discover that music is far more than a keyboard, bass, guitar and drums. Discover sounds, explore more, dare to trust sound more than lyrics. The typical moment of instrumental pause is about as long as the typical spontaneous praise in churches...short, awkward and hurried. We need to linger more, allow music to marinate on us. There is power in sound, the ocean heals not by words but sound.
* Uncork the passion please. If God is love and passion is the very flame of the Lord, than why do Christians seem like the prudish icicles around? Can't we write about anything that most of us think about most of all anyway...sex. Sure, you don't have to get all graphic but why can't someone write a song like Dave Matthew's does; that makes you want to find your wife and show her why you married her! Come On!
Here are a few more thoughts on the stuff that is causing me Radio Rash:
* Don't try so hard, just make music that you like and that is honest about who or where you are.
* Don't feel like it has to be a complete novel in one song...sometimes the beauty in life is when you are "caught a moment," The first breath after a first kiss...the taste of something not the whole meal...
* Let me wrestle with the words...you don't have to make everything so clear. Ambiguity allows me to interact with the music and allows magic to happen. Each song can mean something different for everyone.
* Don't produce music that always smells like it just came out of the wash...the story of the jeans is how they got dirty too. Scars make for great storytelling.
* Quit acting like a choir boy...if I wanted to listen to a girl I would...be a man.
* Remember Jesus chose a wild man to baptize him into public life not a priest...beginnings are important...where you start can define where you end up sometimes.
* People live in the world, a world which God made and owns, tell me about how you live in this place without losing your center. I've not been to heaven but I live on earth. Talk to me about the stuff that I see, hear and feel everyday but need to hear about it through other eyes, so I can see my world anew.
* Be influenced but be you...crossdressers make lame musicians and poets.
* I need to hear the war cry again...much of the music out there seems created for the nursery. Give me something that changes the temperature of my blood, makes me want to yell like a man not whisper like a woman.
* Be creative...God isn't monochrome. With a world full of instruments and cultures you would think Christians would discover that music is far more than a keyboard, bass, guitar and drums. Discover sounds, explore more, dare to trust sound more than lyrics. The typical moment of instrumental pause is about as long as the typical spontaneous praise in churches...short, awkward and hurried. We need to linger more, allow music to marinate on us. There is power in sound, the ocean heals not by words but sound.
* Uncork the passion please. If God is love and passion is the very flame of the Lord, than why do Christians seem like the prudish icicles around? Can't we write about anything that most of us think about most of all anyway...sex. Sure, you don't have to get all graphic but why can't someone write a song like Dave Matthew's does; that makes you want to find your wife and show her why you married her! Come On!
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
I've got Radio Rash
I've got a bad rash and I picked it up from listening to Christian radio.
I know as a "pastor" some would squawk that I shouldn't be slamming "Christian" radio but I must confess...it really sucks. I am sorry if that offends you but my head goes numb listening to that stuff. Sure there is an occasional; bright spot like a shaft of sun that breaks through on a maddening long run of cloudy days but that's rare.
I love music but I have not been able to hear that much good stuff in my day to day life.
I am musically anemic I think.
It is the result of a poor music diet that I picked up from some bad influences in the church.
I need help.
Could anyone please recommend some good tunes that won't make me sleepy or leave me feeling like I just was serenaded by my grandparents?
I don't want some plastic Christian copy culture stuff either.
No over the top, syrupy sacred, gospel bloated, message heavy stuff.
I like my doctrine to come primarily from the pulpit or books not the CD.
I listen to enough worship to sprout angel wings, so I am not worried about...balance.
I need something that engages me, catches me by surprise, moves other parts of me that have rusted from lack of cultural oil.
I feel like the church has turned me into the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz. I've been plated over in armor to protect me from the culture but in the end I lost my heart.
I know that just because I gave my heart to Jesus that it doesn't mean it gets turned to stone. So much of my life came alive in Christ but not so for poor old music.
It got circumcised and I think they took to much off the top...it looks more like a castration.
Why is that?
Why did music's legs get amputated in the church?
We've had to exchange audio razor blades for religious butter knives.
What used to electrify...now petrifies.
Oh! The horror of it all...
We need help...any suggestions?
I've got a bad rash and I picked it up from listening to Christian radio.
I know as a "pastor" some would squawk that I shouldn't be slamming "Christian" radio but I must confess...it really sucks. I am sorry if that offends you but my head goes numb listening to that stuff. Sure there is an occasional; bright spot like a shaft of sun that breaks through on a maddening long run of cloudy days but that's rare.
I love music but I have not been able to hear that much good stuff in my day to day life.
I am musically anemic I think.
It is the result of a poor music diet that I picked up from some bad influences in the church.
I need help.
Could anyone please recommend some good tunes that won't make me sleepy or leave me feeling like I just was serenaded by my grandparents?
I don't want some plastic Christian copy culture stuff either.
No over the top, syrupy sacred, gospel bloated, message heavy stuff.
I like my doctrine to come primarily from the pulpit or books not the CD.
I listen to enough worship to sprout angel wings, so I am not worried about...balance.
I need something that engages me, catches me by surprise, moves other parts of me that have rusted from lack of cultural oil.
I feel like the church has turned me into the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz. I've been plated over in armor to protect me from the culture but in the end I lost my heart.
I know that just because I gave my heart to Jesus that it doesn't mean it gets turned to stone. So much of my life came alive in Christ but not so for poor old music.
It got circumcised and I think they took to much off the top...it looks more like a castration.
Why is that?
Why did music's legs get amputated in the church?
We've had to exchange audio razor blades for religious butter knives.
What used to electrify...now petrifies.
Oh! The horror of it all...
We need help...any suggestions?
How long have you been alive?
Tony Campolo tells a story about how he challenged his students by asking them, ‘how long have you been alive?’ They responded by reciting their birthdays, almost without thinking. Then he turned to them and asked again, ‘how long have you really been alive?’ and went on to tell of a time that as a child, he stood on the empire state building and for a few brief moments, as the wind whipped his hair and the panorama overwhelmed him, felt fully alive. Then he turned to his students again and said, “now, how long have you been alive?”
Some years ago I went skydiving with my friends Fergus and Wendy in Fort McMurray, Canada during an impending rain storm. It was one of those days when you could see the vistas of the horizon and watch the heavy grey clouds roll in like a blanket. It was undoubtedly not a pristine skydiving opportunity but we were anxious to get in a jump, despite our best interests. As we rose to meet the sky the clouds extended over us like
A cotton canopy. We levelled out at approximately 6500 feet and flew just under the chouds. I was able to stand outside the door, hold on and wipe my hands through the fluffy billows, splaying them behind me. For that moment, I was truly alive.
I remember vividly the day I sat with Marianne in the pre-op ward awaiting her first cancer surgery. As I sat on her bed, our hands clasped together, we began to share in an intimate few minutes of mutual love and joy. We reflected on our lives, the fun and happy times, the pain and the sorrows of what we were experiencing. I confessed to her my fear, and she to me. We laughed and cried, kissed and hugged, wishing this moment would go on for eternity. For that moment, I was truly alive.
I once heard it said that if I had my life to live over again I’d live more moments. Just time after time of nothing but moments. Too much of my time has been spend in dismal boredom, fleeting days of just living but not being truly alive.
lifted from a great blog at:
http://scott.newheights.bc.ca/
Tony Campolo tells a story about how he challenged his students by asking them, ‘how long have you been alive?’ They responded by reciting their birthdays, almost without thinking. Then he turned to them and asked again, ‘how long have you really been alive?’ and went on to tell of a time that as a child, he stood on the empire state building and for a few brief moments, as the wind whipped his hair and the panorama overwhelmed him, felt fully alive. Then he turned to his students again and said, “now, how long have you been alive?”
Some years ago I went skydiving with my friends Fergus and Wendy in Fort McMurray, Canada during an impending rain storm. It was one of those days when you could see the vistas of the horizon and watch the heavy grey clouds roll in like a blanket. It was undoubtedly not a pristine skydiving opportunity but we were anxious to get in a jump, despite our best interests. As we rose to meet the sky the clouds extended over us like
A cotton canopy. We levelled out at approximately 6500 feet and flew just under the chouds. I was able to stand outside the door, hold on and wipe my hands through the fluffy billows, splaying them behind me. For that moment, I was truly alive.
I remember vividly the day I sat with Marianne in the pre-op ward awaiting her first cancer surgery. As I sat on her bed, our hands clasped together, we began to share in an intimate few minutes of mutual love and joy. We reflected on our lives, the fun and happy times, the pain and the sorrows of what we were experiencing. I confessed to her my fear, and she to me. We laughed and cried, kissed and hugged, wishing this moment would go on for eternity. For that moment, I was truly alive.
I once heard it said that if I had my life to live over again I’d live more moments. Just time after time of nothing but moments. Too much of my time has been spend in dismal boredom, fleeting days of just living but not being truly alive.
lifted from a great blog at:
http://scott.newheights.bc.ca/
So much of evangelism to me is so plastic, insincere, agenda driven, statistical and icky.
Plus so much of the push for it is simply unrealistic. It lays a burden upon people that becomes something they can't live up too. It's high pressure sales, it's door to door product pushing, it's dinner time phone calls, it's Amwayish insincerity.
I hate it, I don't do it.
Simply ask people" "How many people have you led to the Lord" and the truth will be out. It simply doesn't happen that way. You can act like it does, preach like it does, demand that it should, impress others with your stats, guilt the shy with your stories but in the end...it doesn't happen that much.
Plus you get a lot of guilty people that become a poor tool of outreach.
Insincere, guilty, pressured people stink as evangelism agents...period.
Plus so much of the push for it is simply unrealistic. It lays a burden upon people that becomes something they can't live up too. It's high pressure sales, it's door to door product pushing, it's dinner time phone calls, it's Amwayish insincerity.
I hate it, I don't do it.
Simply ask people" "How many people have you led to the Lord" and the truth will be out. It simply doesn't happen that way. You can act like it does, preach like it does, demand that it should, impress others with your stats, guilt the shy with your stories but in the end...it doesn't happen that much.
Plus you get a lot of guilty people that become a poor tool of outreach.
Insincere, guilty, pressured people stink as evangelism agents...period.
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