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...
Friday, June 11, 2004
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.
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