Thoughts On Turning 25x2

Yeah, yeah, OK. Of course I knew it was coming. Intellectually. I still don't think I've actually absorbed it. Me, 50? A half a full dang century? No way. Yes...way. And then within a few days, two pop-icons die. Michael Jackson and Billy Mays, the Oxy Clean guy. Their age? Guess. Of course that hasn't a thing to do with turning 50; people all over are dieing at 50, 40, 30, and 20. But two celebrity dude passings in the news while I'm trying to transition into the next half century...sheeesh.

In many ways I feel better about turning 50 than I did 40. The big exception is that at 40, I wasn't 10 years away from 60. Ouch! Math always did hurt a little. But those last 10 have been chock full of adventure, accomplishment, and great experiences. Even the difficult things and the mistakes, God used for good.

I Googled "50 is the new..." waiting expectantly to see how Mr. Google would finish the statement. He offered its both the new 40 and the new 30. Yes! Thank you, Mr.G! Very cool. That kind of reflects how I feel. Even though the mirror insists on telling me differently, in my soul, I'm still more the 25 year old Steve than not. I'm basically that guy plus 25 years. And so many of the things I've experienced in the last 25 have enriched my life. So, I'll just be 25 Times 2 or Double 25, instead of 50. Thank you very much!

And huge thanks to King Jesus, because if it wasn't for him, I certainly wouldn't even be here writing this blog entry at the wise age of 25x2.

“Mission Control…Steve is Reintering the Blogosphere.”

Wow. It's been so long since I've blogged that I'm kind of embarrassed. But hey, what good does any "shoulda, woulda, coulda" serve? Absolutely none. So, It's Nike time..."Just Do It." Besides, I love to blog. Hey; welcome back to me!

the freshness of renewal

Spring is great. Really great. I dig it bigtime. It’s visually stunning. The aroma is wonderful. She’s the beautiful woman of all the seasons. The pretty girl among the different times of the year. Perhaps that’s why there’s “Spring Fever” and not “Winter Zeal”.

Life is full of seasons. My cohort and partner in crime that I pastor with has excellently applied it to our church life, as we partner with the Holy Spirit of God to grow our baby church hour-by-hour, day-by-day, soul-by-soul. Sometimes you feel the warmth of the sunshine on your face; sometimes the sleet pelts that same face with what feels like a thousand freezing bee stings.

Spring reminds me that God is reminding me that I get “do-overs”. “Watch, precious child of mine, and don’t fret. Yes, you’ve messed up things once again. But, that which is dark and cold in your life can become bright, warm, and sweet smelling again. My dear Steve, that’s why I walked out of that tomb on that spring day 2,000 years ago.”

I don't deserve even a single "do-over" or a fifth or sixth chance in anything. Remarkable, that phenomenon we call God's grace. I don’t think it’s any accident that Jesus busted forth from the cold shackles of death on not a winter, but a spring day. The most important spring day or any other day in all of history.

a stab @ on the spot poetry

I belong to a Life Group in our church that discusses and seeks to learn and relate to art, our innate desire to create, and it's connection to our worship of God. Last week, we were asked to create something on the spot, having to do with that night's subject matter. Without anything in hand, I asked to borrow a pen and piece of paper. Although easier than asking to borrow paints, pallet, canvas, and easel, I am no more poet than I am painter. The following is what I wrote:

a prayer for this particular monday night

sometimes it's just so easy
to get drawn into the details
but in a sterile way
a rather dry fashion

and in the path of knowing you
and projecting you for others
become a mere technician

please don't let this happen, my King
let me love you
as you me
commune with you
as you me

not as a brash tactician
but instead
with ever so much soul

Stars

I’ve been going to the Outer Banks of North Carolina since I was a little boy, and this gem of the Atlantic coast is an integral part of my personal history and much cherished in my heart. I went down there in 1996 to work for the better part of that year and I remember one night out on the deck, staring up into the sky and seeing a clustered band of stars across the sky, so thick that it appeared to be a “star dust” trail. I guess I was looking at the Milky Way.

I had never seen this before and was captivated. My location was remote enough and far enough away from the ambient light of any urban area, that the darkness allowed me to see stars that had been previously unnoticeable to me. I have heard that out at sea, you can see the sky as never before.

When Paul was writing to the church at Philippi, he entreated these followers of Christ to live without grumbling and bickering so they would shine like stars, blazing bright among a generation of corrupt and immoral people. Of course, we recall Jesus imploring us to be salt and light to the world, but this analogy from Paul’s letter from a prison cell may be unknown to some or not as easily remembered by others. Perhaps this may no longer be the case for those of you reading now.

We who put our very lives into the scarred hands of Jesus today should also shine as stars. We can do so at a time in history that at periods seems very dark. As the world becomes darker under the smothering cloak of sin, we in contrast appear even brighter. As sin continues to take its toll on the world around us, we who follow the very One who called the universe into existence are luminous to those who hunger for the Way. Just like that band of stars that covered the coastal North Carolina sky, we can blaze out to the people in the darkness around us and beyond as we “hold out the word of life” for them to ponder and pursue.

So take heart when the world is dark, because out of the darkness, God’s Spirit blazes forth from us, offering hope to a broken world. Shine on, brothers and sisters.

Targets Part 2

Whether or not you share my yearning for hitting things with a round projectile, you have an aspect of target hitting in your own life as well. Everyone does. “What?!”, you say. “I’ve never even held a squirt gun.” Well maybe not. But the most important part of your life is directly connected to your aiming ability.

The Hebrew word hattat and the Greek word hamartia both mean “to miss the mark” and are translated in our English Bibles as the word sin. So in God’s eyes, to sin is to miss the mark in something we do or think; to be a sinner is to miss the standard he holds for righteousness. Scripture tells us that we have and will always miss the bulls eye, as we live out our lives before a perfect God who is the personification of absolutely scoring the bulls eye in all he is and does, from eternity past to eternity future.

The Bible also informs us that unless our target looks like God’s, we can’t actually be in right relationship with him now on earth, or be in his presence after we physically die. And we’re also told that there’s no way – it’s impossible – for us to ever hit the mark. To ever attain that perfect score. Our aim, by nature, is always off, falling short.

Here’s the fantastic news. When God looks at you, he doesn’t have to see your target. He can look at you and see Jesus’ perfect target instead. You can ‘trade’ targets with the only One who could make it possible for you to possess a perfect score. You see, along with the Perfect One, you’re dismal target was nailed to his cross so you could claim by faith his target for yours. You can be clothed in his perfection so that when God looks at you, he sees the sinlessness of Jesus. The total on-the-mark hitting of your Savior. Absolute bulls eye dieing in the place of pathetic fringe peripheral scoring.

And it’s not just a perception thing; not a pulling-the-wool-over God’s eyes. You can actually have Jesus’ sinlessness. That’s why he went through the agony of the cross. To die the death that’s required for the missing the mark of every single sin of every single person ever – including you. So that you can live victorious and free with his target instead of the one you were born with and make even worse as time goes by. That’s why they call it amazing grace. Completely undeserved. Partaken of by your faith – so totally free. Except for Jesus; it cost him his very life. But that tomb was empty and he was raised to life so that you can have life with him – now – and forever.

Targets Part 1

Hey, I’m just a kid at heart. If you know me, that comes as no surprise. If you don’t believe me, just ask my wife. Boys like to shoot things. Sorry, but we just do. I don’t think it’s genetic or hormonal. Perhaps cultural; maybe societal. But sheesh, I wasn’t intending on doing this major exploration into why. It just is. Some girls like to shoot things too and the guys that like to shoot things think the girls that do are cool. Just a note if you’re single and like to shoot things (hey, I’m just trying to help).

You can ask my brother. When we were little (I’m 7 years older than he is) I had the coolest BB gun around. Needing something challenging and entertaining to shoot, naturally I looked to him. I don’t think I really wanted to kill a bird, squirrel, or rabbit. They were so cool and fascinating. They never drove me crazy; my brother did. Only made sense.

We would be out in the yard (we lived in a very rural setting) and I would tell him to run and that I was going to shoot him. Being his usual pain-in-the-neck self, he’d protest, so to propel him along his way out into a fair target zone, I threatened to shoot him point blank if he didn’t get a move on. Me being the excellent brother that I was, I further requested that he not look back at me, so I wouldn’t shoot him in the face (very hard to hide from my parents and also having more repercussions than a leg shot). I might score a couple of good shots, maybe with the reward of a good scalp bump. Excuse me a sec while I stop laughing...

Ok. Ok. So now I want to shoot stuff again. I don’t want to hunt. And making people holler ouch is much more fun. Remember, I speak from experience. I’ve wanted to try paintball, but I don’t want to be a paintball geek. I want to make my friends scream OUCH !, not stain their clothes. I can do that with a bottle of catsup. So I’ve heard about this thing called airsoft. The guns shoot little plastic BBs and you can feel it, depending on the circumstances. So I want to get a group together to do this. I think it might be fun. Teams. Nothing really serious. No face paint or camo. Well maybe later. Just some welts, bruises, and some good laughs. Running through the woods to get to a flag first, that buddy on the other team that frustrated me last week getting a few rounds of BBs on his backside as I make him head for the hills. You get the picture. More in the next post.