SMITCHing

They come, whether we want then to or not. Like sets in the sea, life's milestones roll in on us. First tooth. First fight. Loosing first tooth in first fight. You get the idea. Life's variety offers an odd interplay of the expected and the random. But are the random events really random? That's a big question, and it goes to the heart of God's providence. Is He there? And if so, is He paying attention? I believe He is. People who need hope, really need hope, are glad to hear of that, but God's providence is a lesser order question for a lot of us who are pretty satisfied with our lives. We've very little to hope for that isn't narcissistic on the one hand, or pretty accessible on the other. What does someone who has wealth and opportunity that is unimaginable for 95% of the world's population hope for? More of the same? But what if you don't have clean water, or food enough? And what if you have little hope of escaping the poverty and oppression tha...

Our theme this year at Beaverton Foursquare is the Hidden Gift. It's tough coming up with a Christmas theme that's fresh each year, but I think this one fits the bill. It's got a lot of depth. On one level, it talks of the small, unnoticed, ways God touches our lives. They're hidden in the main, since few if any outside the touch ever know of them. Though all we have to do is look. They're right there. For example, I remember the sheer joy of driving over Cooper Mountain on the way to pick my daughters up from dance class and seeing the brushwork of a winter's sunset played on the cloud cover. I felt as if God had given me a treat to brighten my heart—a little hug from God, if you will. I would turn off the radio, and talk with Him. The interruption a welcome invitation. Somewhat deeper is the theological impetus behind the theme. The humility and condescension of God, who veiled all of Deity in human flesh. As my pastor said, the Cross cast a shadow over the ma...

It's easy to get sucked into blogging. I was blown away looking at my dashboard. If I spent an hour a week on each blog, I'd chew through the better part of a day and a half. It's time to focus. I'm thinking I'll post on Sunday@6 and this blog, occasionally lurking on the others. What happened since my last post? The stock market went way up and then down some. We were going into a recession, but now we're not. maybe. My daughters got a little older and a little smarter. I love my wife more. She's an amazing person. I did some work, some ministry, taught a little, and failed some at all of the above. I had a week where I met the most incredible people. One was born with no legs, and more than enough grit to make up for that. He's humble, in the best sense. Confident and winsome. I'm blessed to have met him. Two others are married. Over the years they've adopted 10 children with profound medical and/or social needs: throw-away kids. They also have...

Do you love mercy? In the Scriptures, the word sometimes translated "mercy" can also be rendered "steadfast love." So when I ask, "Do you love mercy?", I really ask, "Do you love love?" Specifically, the love that God offers. Before you answer too quickly, think about it. Jesus ate with sinners, and it hacked off the religious leaders of His day to no end. These were the guys who should've known better. They should have recognized Him. Some did, but most just couldn't get their arms around Jesus as Messiah. He touched the untouchable, accepted lavish worship from the sexually immoral, and dared to reckon the Samaritans (at best, considered heretics by religious Jews) among God's beloved. All of that lavish love earned Him derision and eventually death. Some would argue His death came as a political necessity. Sure, He was a radical, but not as a political reformer, as some hold. He simply loved radically. And He was hated for that...

It's not a terribly attractive image, is it? But it can be very instructive. A sieve separates desirable elements from unwanted material allowing one to pass and the other to remain. In the case of a liquid that you want to clear of solids, the solids remain behind as unwanted, leaving the liquid to pass through in a pure state. I want to be a sieve, where the pure love of God poured out in my heart by the Holy Spirit (Romans 5:5) passes through me to others, leaving behind the still stubborn sin of my flesh. I think this is how Christianity is supposed to work. If you've ever been to a wedding where a Bible verse is read, chances are you have heard 1 Corinthians 13. It is a beautifully descriptive passage that teaches us to do all in love. It says that anything overtly religious (and even admirable) is meaningless is it is not done in love. I take that to mean that it is entirely possible to be very religious, to demonstrate an outward piety, and to have all of it be less than...

My hero is my dad. He’s not Superman, and he sure isn’t perfect, but he always showed up. He never phoned it in. He never sat on the bench. He was always in the game, and I love him for that. I learned a lot from my hero. I learned how to change the oil in a ’63 VW Bug. I learned to watch out for the pulling guard on a sweep while playing outside linebacker. I learned that I was a lousy liar, and he had a nose for the truth. I learned that what made you a man wasn’t the strength of your arm, but the rock-solid nature of your character. Even so, my dad had a strong arm. My dad also taught me with his mistakes. He taught me that the most important words a man can ever say are, “I’m sorry.” Followed immediately by, “I love you.” He showed me what it was like to do the right thing, even when it scares you to death. My dad is like a lot of dads who never earn the media spotlight because they are just dads, doing what they’re supposed to do. I have no doubt they do it because they love their...

Recently, a friend of mine asked a question on his blog: What if you wish upon a star and later find out that it was a satellite? I answered it this way: Great question. It seems to me the question isn't a silly one at all. It's actually really deep: what do we do when mysterious beauty and possibility are replaced by scientific certainty? I could take "scientific certainty" to task for being less scientific and certain than it is, but the more interesting question is what do you do when something, anything, destroys the mysteriously beautiful possibilities in life? There is a sense in which Jesus is inviting us into those possibilities when he tells us that if we have sufficient faith, we can move a mountain. Most folks get the hyperbole here, but it is still a fascinating statement. Life is full of the possibility-versus-certainty tension. Will I be happy? Will I ever have a family? What if I end up poor? Will riches make me happy? My point is this: it is the questi...

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The following is a letter I wrote for our church’s Mother’s Day bulletin. The person I had in mind when I wrote it was my mom, Shirley, who I love very much. Enjoy, mom. Dear Mom, Thank you. Thank you that I don’t have a broken neck, and that my eye hasn’t been poked out by a popsicle stick. Thank you for being right just because you said so. Thank you for all the late night prayers that I never knew about. Thank you that my breakfast was still ready and waiting for me after those sleepless nights of prayer. Thank you for the protection of those prayers. I was never run over by a truck, but even if I had been, they would have seen at the hospital that my underwear was clean. You saw to that too. Thank you for letting me grow up, to get bruised a little along the way no matter how much that hurt you. Thank you for getting so much “smarter” as I got older. Thank you for the good food, warm bed, and clean clothes that I took for granted. Thank you for not handing me a bill and showing me ...

I've been asked three times in as many weeks if I've ever thought of taking up writing. Yesssssss! But not without the following question coming hard on the heels of my answer, "How?" I don't find writing hard. I find finding the story hard. For much of my adult life I've written for others as part of designing ads, brochures, Web sites...whatever. The content always originates with someone else, and it is my job to connect their audience in a powerful, relevant, and memorable way with their content. Apart from this blog and a few stories I made up for my kids, I've written very little that comes straight out of me. I'm not sure what's in there, but I am sure that I'd like to find out. It seems important somehow for me to see what might come to light if I start rummaging around in there a bit. On the downside: I can't touch type, which I'm sure would get me lynched by a bunch of snooty Portland writers if I tried to join their ranks an...

I don't know if we need more gun laws or not. I don't know if the horribly distrubed VT killer should've been stopped by psychologists, psychiatrists, or school administrators. I don't know if the police could have done a better job. I don't know if there's any comfort in the constant stream of recriminations, especially for the families who've lost their loved ones. I don't know if my own life is safe from such a cold and capricious touch. I don't know how to explain evil to someone. I don't know why others seem so sure of their answers to the difficult questions that always follow such a tragedy. I do know that what happened Monday was horrible. I do know that it makes me want to pray more earnestly. I do know that God is good, even though life sometimes isn't. These are among the things I am sure of. It's a short list, but an important one.

Easter is a big deal for Christians. But it's also a big deal with those that don't share the faith. It's that charming weekend (in some cases, long weekend) that kicks off Spring with lot's of chocolate and squealing kids. It's a commercial holiday that displays an overindulgence and self-satisfaction second only to Christmas. How did we ever get here? Easter's like the Superbowl for Christians. It's the big game to end all games. Jesus goes toe-to-toe with death and kicks the Grim Reaper's butt. Let's see a chocolate bunny do that. Couldn't happen. Those bunnies are empty.

Wow. Stanford. My daughter just found out she was accepted to the undergrad program, class of 2011.

Entertaining Church As a kid, I found the circus, a parade, an episode of Monty Python, or even a half-chewed hunk of bubble gum more captivating than church. A lot has changed since then. If anything, the various ways we can amuse ourselves has grown expotentially. And "church" has worked hard to keep from losing ground. More's the pity. Whatever its failings, church used to be church. Distinct from other institutions. Mysterious and, yes, awe-inspiring. Even as the afore-mentioned distracted kid, I can remember gingerly entering a church with a sense of reverence. It was a congregation that still practiced high liturgy, and the feeling came from the church. Not my parents or anyone else. My dad was an agnostic who used to joke that he made it through a liturgical service (or any other for that matter) by counting ceiling tiles. Mom was too busy wrangling four wriggling boys to display even a modicum of reverence. So where did the feeling come from? It came from a sense ...