Number Three Son, who will remain nameless at his own request, took the following pictures…
I like them both a lot!
Blessings, Guido.
Month: July 2012
Inspiring people.
I don’t get to go to church today because my knee was injured yesterday. So, I am spending some time looking at videos that have inspired and encouraged me over the years.
The following link is to one of my favorite videos. Many of you will have seen it before. (Even if you have, it is worth watching again.)
I am an old softy. I cry at touching movies. If I see someone else crying I can’t look at them or I will start crying too. This video doesn’t just my me cry, it makes me sob. I guess the message it has to share is just that powerful to me.
I dedicate this video to those people in my life who find that finishing their race is different than they thought it would be…but they press on and finish the race nonetheless. Two of those people are my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. Their race has been incredibly challenging at times, but they press on. They amaze and inspire me in their ability to share grace every day. They have brought me up short more than once. There have been times that I was angry about something that someone has done to them. Then I see their response…grace…and I know that I must follow their example.
The man that comes to help the runner in the video linked below could represent many people in our lives; those people that come along side and help us in our race. To those in my life that have play that role, I hope you know, I ever desire to be that support for you also.
Derek Redmond – 1992
Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TYnJzseqTI
Starting to get a reputation
A couple of years ago, on an Easter afternoon, I was walking out of the house with a 11 x 13 inch glass dish full of a yummy pork roast. (“Rowena, do we happen to have a pork roast in the fridge?” Focus Guido!) We were going to a family member’s house for Easter dinner.
As I walked down the sidewalk, I tripped. I landed glass-dish-full-of-pork-roast first. All the way down I thought, “NOT THE MEAT!” The dish shattered into 1.3 gazillion shards. (We counted.) They went everywhere. The meat was ruined. Jesus did rise from the dead on Easter morning, but there was no coming back for my roast.
The second thing to hit the ground were my knees. They both said, “Ouch!”
After I landed, I laid there for a minute to take inventory of my body and the situation. (Head still attached? Check. Guts still inside my body? Check.) Rowena came running up, quite concerned, and asked if I was okay. (I have to admit, it was probably an impressive looking fall!)
Well, the family got me back in the house, cleaned up, my clothes changed and we headed for my daughters. As we drove away, the last thing I saw out the car window was a group of pigs conducting a memorial in my backyard. I asked Rowena if we could stay for the service, but she said that our family was waiting for us.
(Flash forward about two years.)
Yesterday, I was coming out of the house with my arms full of food… (Now wait a minute, don’t get a head of me! However, you are thinking in the right direction.) I had a casserole dish in each hand. As I stepped off the porch onto the first step, I felt a very pronounced snap/crackle/pop in my right knee. There was pain, which prompted my fall to the ground. Fortunately, I went down in a slow motion backwards fashion.
It was kind of a reverse six million dollar man moment. You remember, when Steve Austin was about to do something bionic, everything would go slow motion and the “zing, zing, zing, zing” music would begin to play. Only in my case, it wasn’t something bionic, it was something klutzy.
As I fell, one thought went through my mind., “Save the FOOD!” (Apparently food is very important to me.) I managed to get the casserole dish in my right hand down to the ground safely. It was then that I noticed a slight pain once again. It seems that while I was focused on getting the casserole dish in my right hand safely to the ground, the casserole dish in my left hand went unattended. The mild pain was from the casserole dish spilling its hot contents all over me and the deck. (The deck later reported that it felt no pain. Apparently, it has a high pain threshold.)
After I landed and laid there for a moment, I realized that Rowena was in a room just on the other side of the wall. I called out to her, “Roooweeenaaa!” No response. Flies began congregating on my face. A buzzard began to circle overhead. “Roooweeenaaa!” No response. Inside, Rowena is thinking, “What was that big thud? Hmmmm.” It was at that moment that God began to work in Rowena’s life. He began to whisper in her ear, “Rowena, be more curious about that loud thud!”
Rowena did come out, she shooed the flies away and stared down the buzzard until he left. She took me to the hospital, but we didn’t find out much. An x-ray was taken and it showed no broken bones…which was expected. (Cartilage, tendons and ligaments don’t show on x-rays.) On Monday I am supposed to call my regular doctor and have him set up and MRI.
So, twice now I have been carrying food out of the house and calamity struck. I am starting to get a reputation. The up side is, the next time we are going somewhere, Rowena will tell me, “Just get in the car, we’ll carry the food!
On the Offense
A thousand years ago, when I was a young man, I pastored a church that was squabbling over the issue of “speaking in tongues”.
Now, if you are unfamiliar with Church life in America through the 70’s and 80’s, then you missed two decades of great fun! (Read that last part with a sharp tone of sarcasm.) Speaking in tongues was an issue that divided many churches during this time period.
I could explain what is “speaking in tongues, ” bit the specifics has little to do with the focus of THIS blog entry. So I’ll move on…
During the 70’s and 80’s, Christians allow this issue to create “sides.” People would spend hours arguing their positions. This was nearly always a fruitless exercise because no one would listen long enough to hear the other’s position.
It was during this time period that I realized something that not only impacted how I discussed this issue, but how I would discuss ANY issue. What was the truth I realized? What enormous lesson had I learned? We it comes to a debate/argument, “offense is easier than defense.” Guido, I am not sure what that means, much less how it helps.”
Anytime that you are in a discussion, whether it is light and casual or to the death, it is easier to ask the questions (offense) than it is to answer the questions (defense). Some people think, “Why do I always struggle to defend my faith?’ Well, it’s because it is much harder to answer other’s questions than it is to ask questions of others.
For example. Someone might ask of you, “Why would God put stuff in the Bible about speaking in tongues if he didn’t mean for us to do so today, anytime we want, and no matter what else is going on?” All that person had to do was ask a question. That’s not hard. It is the other person that has the hard task of coming up with a convincing response. If we respond with, “Uhhh, I don’t know.” Then the response is often times, “There you have it! You can’t answer. Therefore, I must be right! Now let’s speak in tongues.”
How does knowing this help? It helps us to know that if the other person is doing all of the question asking; we are likely going to have a rough evening. It is also important to remember that just because we can’t answer a question, it doesn’t mean that the other person is automatically right.
(By the way, the axiom applies to more than discussions on spirituality.)
This axiom is about more than strategies on how to win an argument. There are gracious applications too.
I have the privilege of talking with folks about their life issues and problems. I have found that it is often better to stop providing a defense to an issue being discussed. Instead, it is often more helpful to the other person if I come alongside that person and ask gracious and compassionate questions that help lead them to self discovery.
The power of “offense versus defense.” You can use it to improve your arguing skills…or you can use it to help those around you discover life-changing truth. Your choice.
Some facts just speak for themselves!
You will be amazed to know that…
111, 111, 111 X 111, 111, 111 = 12, 345, 678, 987, 654, 321 (I’m just saying!)
In Disney’s Fantasia, the Sorcerer to whom Mickey played an apprentice named Yensid, which is Disney spelled backward. (You always wondered didn’t you?”)
A 10-gallon hat actually only holds about 3/4 gallon. (Kind of disappointing isn’t it?)
A cow produces 200 times more gas a day than a person. That statement leaves you asking three questions. One, “Why does anyone know this?” Two, “What did the person in the study have to eat the night before?” Three, “Was the person a man or a woman?” (Because that would heavily influence the outcome.)
The above stated brilliant facts were taken from: http://www.bored.com/greatfacts/
Pushing the boundaries…in my own head. (An addendum)
(I wanted to add this thought into the text of “Pushing the boundaries…in my own head”. However, no matter where I put it…it seemed forced. So, if all else fails, make it an addendum.)
Someone once said to me, “The gospel should be offensive. The Bible tells us that it will be to some.” I responded, “There will be those that will be offended by the gospel. Yet, their offense should be with the gospel itself and not with how we (as Christians) present it.”
Blessings.
Pushing the boundaries…in my own head. (Part 2)
(If you have not yet read part one of “Pushing the boundaries…in my own head,” please do that before you continue with part two.)
The story, “Pushing the boundaries…in my own head,” illustrated a difficult challenge. For some, it begs the question: “Where do we draw the line in a compassionate approach to being a witness for Christ?”
On one end of the spectrum, you have individuals that are afraid that by pursuing more compassion we risk sacrificing “right doctrine”. On the other end of the spectrum, you have individuals that are concerned that in focusing on “right doctrine” that we risk sacrificing any actual concern for those around us.
In answering the question it is important to remember that a person’s journey is between them and God. My part is to support a person’s own search for spiritual truth. I shouldn’t dictate their journey.
The difference between what I am proposing, and the sometimes used, cold-call approach, can be seen in the following two examples.
First witness approach to a stranger: Do you know Jesus and have you asked him to be your Savior? Are you ready to repent of your sins right now and turn from your wicked ways? If you were to die tonight, do you know where you would spend eternity?
Second witness approach to a stranger: Tell me about yourself? (Wait for an answer.) Where did you grow up? (Wait for an answer.) What do you like to do at the end of the day? (Wait for an answer.)
Some would respond with, “The second witness said nothing about Jesus!” I would contend that the first witness’s stranger HEARD nothing about Jesus.
Once again, I am not abdicating the message of Christ. I am calling Christians to examine the fruit of how they have “shared” Jesus with those around them. I am calling Christians to get to know someone first, care about them, so that when you share about Jesus in God’s timing that the listener is far more likely to HEAR your message.
Going back to the story in part one, I would most like to know how the deceased’s partner is doing. I have concern for the deceased’s brother, but he likely has a community of faith to journey with him. I don’t know that the deceased’s partner does. That being said, my concern gravitates towards the one who is least likely to have Chrsit-like support.
I want to know how he (the deceased’s partner) is doing, if he is okay. I would like for him to know the love of Jesus. I am afraid that all he has ever experienced is the judgment of Christians.
I think that such a perspective IS Christ-like compassion.
Pushing the boundaries…in my own head. (Part 1)
The pastoral ministry is an occupation where, regardless of the situation, you have to act like you know what you are doing. I remember the first wedding I conducted. I had never performed a wedding before, but the wedding party was looking to me for leadership and guidance. I had to (at least) ACT like I knew what I was doing.
This was the way that I felt in the early years of my pastoral ministry. It wasn’t until much later that I admitted to my congregation that I didn’t know everything. (I was surprised to find that they already knew it!) It was during this initial period that I entered into one of the most challenging situations I had ever faced.
A member of my congregation had a brother who was in the hospital, dying of AIDS. The member of my congregation asked that I go and talk with his brother about his salvation. I was told that the brother’s partner would be at the hospital at all times.
On the day that I went, I had to park some distance from the hospital and walk. On the way I prayed fervently. I had no experience with being a minister to someone with AIDS. I had encountered very few people with a homosexual lifestyle. I felt that I was not prepared or ready for the ministry opportunity that was before me. I was scared; scared that I would fail God. I prayed that God would give me the words to say and that I would somehow glorify him.
I entered the hospital room and met the brother and his partner. The brother’s mom was also there. Her being there made it easier; I knew her. I talked with them and got to know them.
As I left that day, I had learned valuable lessons. Lessons with which so many conservative, Christian pastors would disagree. As I watched the two men before me, I realized that they truly did love one another. In conservative Christianity, homosexuality is so often portrayed as pure, carnal debauchery. Admittedly, there are persons who lead a homosexual lifestyle for which that description fits, just as it does some persons who live a heterosexual lifestyle. However, such a sweeping generalization is inaccuracy. Beyond the label and the sexual activity, were two people that were journeying through life.
Like all of us, they needed someone to love and to be loved by. To simply say that they chose “pure, carnal debauchery” is to ignore the fact they each had a story that had brought them to that point in their life. I could have slapped a label on them and given them a choice of “get right or get left”. Or, I could enter in to their lives, learned about their story, and helped them to see a Jesus (and to see him in a way other than the one that had so often been portray to them).
They allowed me to continue to come and visit them often. One day, I got the opportunity to be alone with the dying brother. I was afraid, but not of his dying. I was afraid of doing, saying, the wrong thing. I began to speak about eternity to him. As graciously as I could, I presented choices. I didn’t single out his homosexuality.
During that time, I didn’t pressure him for a choice. Maybe I should have. Maybe my not pressing harder for a “decision” was cowardice on my part. I chose that day to leave his eternity in the hands of the living God.
When the man passed, his partner asked me to perform the funeral. He knew that we differed on the issue of homosexuality, but he also knew that I would not violate his trust as I conducted the funeral service of his partner. He knew that I would not take a cheap (and unproductive) shot at the homosexual lifestyle. He knew that I would not vilify him or the deceased.
After this, the congregational member that had asked me to go in the first place, began to talk with me less and less. He became more and more angry with me. By the time that I realized how bad it was, it was too late. They would leave the church. I was sad.
I don’t know altogether what happened with the congregation member. I am not sure I understood why they were so angry with me. I am not sure why they left.
I came away from that experience knowing two things. One, that it is possible to love where others hate. Two, in my ministry and my life, not everyone is going to agree with the way that I “love”.
Church Conflict!
One balmy day in the South Pacific, a navy ship espied smoke coming from one of the three huts on an uncharted island. Upon arriving at the shore they were met by a shipwreck survivor. He said, “I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been alone on this island for more than five years!” The captain replied, “If you’re all alone on the island, why do I see THREE huts?” The survivor said, “Oh, well, I live in one, and go to church in another.” “What about the THIRD hut?” asked the captain. “That’s where I USED to go to church!”
(One of my all time favorite jokes. Origin unknown.)
Daffodils
Another great picture from number three son…
guidolicktenstein 