Pizza and the Prophet

So, I have these friends in Atlanta named Rocky and Cindy Pizza...yes, you did hear their name right. I think the more proper enunciation is "peeeeeeeza". They have been long-time friends of ours. Rocky has been a dear brother in my journey and walk. I deeply value his friendship, honesty, and support.

Cindy, though, has a real sense of insight, discernment and tenderness. Recently, Cindy was reading through a book on Elijah by Chuck Swindoll and she thought of us. She emailed us to share this and encourage us in the ministry. Very thoughtful and encouraging. Amazing how God places someone on your heart for a reason. We never realize how, what we might call "small obedience", can really be huge for someone else.

So, those who know me...know my fascination and love for books. Any time someone mentions a book or quote to me...my immediate thought is "I have to get that book". I guess that is why our garage is filled with books. When we got the email from Cindy, I went to the garage and remembered i had the book already.

So. over the last few weeks, Melody and I have been studying and digesting this book together. Been great for our marriage to read and talk about things. And God has been speaking some strong truths through the story of Elijah. We are going through this, a chapter at a time, and journaling how it hits us.

The chapter I am working through right now relates to Elijah at the brook. This is where he is led by God to spend time in "hiddenness" down by the brook. And then comes the verse "...and the brook dried up." I have been thinking on that statement a lot. There are a lot of ways that the brook dries up in our life. For me, when this happens, I find myself saying "Ok, God, you led us here...now why are you letting things get so bad? Won't you do something? Don't you care? HELP!!!"

Swindoll's insight that really is hitting me right now...A dried-up brook is often a sign of God's pleasure, not disappointment, in your life. Now, I may have known that truth somewhere in my head and heart...but I needed to see it on paper. So, I am learning to embrace the loneliness and emptiness of the brook drying up. A lot of times God's plan and provision emerge out of the dried-up brooks. Now, that is something to think on...

So, God continues to DELIVER truth in my life...and he used someone with the name "Pizza" to do it. A slice of truth can go a long way in feeding the soul. Now that's soul food...

Raphael

In December, we sponsored a child through Compassion International. His name is Raphael and he is from Kenya. The cool thing is that he is 4 days older than Caleb. So, it has been a great experience to help Caleb learn about another culture. We pray for Raphael each night and are reminded of how blessed we are in the states.

Today, Caleb drew a picture to send over to him and his family. Below is the picture. You probably can't see it..but he wrote "i love you" on the shirt that he drew for himself. There is something very humbling about seeing life through the eyes of a child.

Our resident theologian...Caleb

Caleb is 5 years old and sometimes has knowledge beyond his years. Isn't it interesting how a child's mind can sometimes put simple language to the most profound truths?

The other night we were talking after supper and the conversation moved to the subject of heaven. Not sure how we got there, but Caleb has recently been expressing more interest in these things. So, Melody and I were referring to the house we live in as "not being our home". We said our real home is heaven. Caleb, pausing for a minute, says "this house is like a hotel and heaven is like our real home."

And, here I am, 2 days later blogging and thinking about that statement. He really got it right. The house we live in is only a temporary dwelling...like a hotel. You never "move in" to a hotel. You stay, knowing that you will only be there for a short time. You don't get real attached to the pictures, TV, beds, or couch. You know they don't belong to you...they are on loan for a night or two. And, you also know, that you'll be checking out soon.

Forgive me God, for holding on to my stuff so tightly. Forgive me for viewing this earthly dwelling as my home. I tend to place the word "my" in front of things way too much.

I own nothing. Nothing. Temporary...that's all it is. A few nights in a hotel.

We are pilgrims. We are sojourners. Pioneers...never settlers.

Saturday morning pheenom

Can someone please explain this to me?
All through the week, we wake our kids up, dragging them out of bed for school. With much weeping and gnashing of teeth, they are forced to vacate the warm bed and get ready for school. The 7am wake from hibernation happens on monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, and friday.
And then Saturday arrives...

Well, let me back up for a minute...friday night, Melody and I put the kids down a little later than usual. And we preach the strong message to them that mommy and daddy would really, really like to sleep in tomorrow morning. This is NOT a school day...it is called lazy-saturday. "So, kids, mommy and daddy would really appreciate it if you would sleep...like you do every other day of the week...sleep, dear children. And may God bless you and prosper you and increase your territory. Amen." With that, they are placed in bed with dreams of saturday morning SLEEP.

And then Saturday arrives...

You know what happens...all the best made plans of mommies and daddies are awakened to the cry of "I'm awake". Melody and I look at each other and all we can muster up is "NO!!!!!" Our hearts are crying out "God, where did we go wrong?" Both kids wake up, on their own, much earlier than any other day of the week. They are energized and ready to embrace the day.

What is it about saturday that puts this wild streak in our children?
Are they trying to get us back for something?
Can we just get some sleeep?

Can someone please explain this saturday morning phenomenon to me???????????????

Story Feasting

In his book "To Be Told", Dan Allender uses the term "story feasting". He is basically talking about the community and the sharing of stories. When a member of the community holds his/her story back, the community starves and goes lacking. But when someone boldly shares their woundedness, healing, and process of recovery...the community is fed and allowed to feast.

I like to compare this to being the body of Christ. In communion or eucharist, we eat and drink of the body and blood of Christ. We celebrate his redemption and soon return. We feast on the body of our Lord. In the New Testament, the church is referred to as the body of Christ. Each member/believer is a part of the larger body. So, in sharing our stories, we are having a "communion" experience. We are feasting and celebrating a brother/sister's journey of redemption and return.

Tonight, our tuesday night guys (the brotherhood) are gathering to begin a new chapter. This wild band of brothers has been doing life together for the last few years. We have realized, though, over recent months that we still don't know everyone's story. So, we are taking the next several weeks for "story feasting". Each week, we will gather and give one man the space to share. He will be given uninterrupted time to share without us trying to "fix" or "frustrate" him.

As a man shares, others will be encouraged to share where that connects and crosses their own story. This keeps us from fixing each other and focuses our attention on our own journey of brokenness and healing...this is truly the feasting part. To only hear and not apply is to NOT feast. It is to pull up a chair, look at the exquisite meal and walk away. In hearing and looking at my own journey, my soul is fed and challenged. I need that. I cannot do life alone. I need community and I need to hear other's journeys.

After this time, we will then share a meal together. It will be a celebration of the "prodigal come home". Kill the fatted calf, bring out a robe, and put a ring on his finger...our brother has come home. This will be a time of celebration and fun. And it will call forth the prodigal in each man. Because every man's story is unique...but every man's story is my story. Choosing, out of my woundedness and sin, to find worth and value in another land...a distant land. Working and slaving in order to "find myself". Then, coming to my senses, I see my Father's face and know his heart. I choose to go home. And I am welcomed with open arms of grace and love.

This, my friends, is the beauty of community and the body of Christ!

Saddle Up

Sometimes being a dad completely unravels me. This morning, I was meeting with my dear brother and friend, Mark Hinson. Sidenote: Maybe you've heard of "tuesdays with Morrie" (recent book)...well I have "fridays with mark" (potential book). I shared with him a story from last night about Caleb and Brennan. I had the boys for what we call "daddy night" which usually involves extra sugar, games, lots of eating, and noise. It is a "let your hair down" kind of night.

Well, last night I was on the floor functioning as the "bronco" in a bull-riding contest. Sidenote: I was a much more energized "bull" in my 20's versus my 30's...can I get a witness? In the middle of this game, Caleb says "hold on, let me go get something." He runs to his room and then hollers for me to help him. He wants to get cowboy hats out of his closet for he and brennan. He plops one on his head and then smashes one down on brennan's head. And then he says, "let's be cowboys!!!"

Reflecting on that moment, this morning with Mark, brought me to tears. The innocent, wild adventures of boyhood. You actually believe you can be and do anything. Last night, the imagination led to cowboy adventures and riding the Daddy Bronco.

So, why the tears? At some point in a man's journey, that sense of adventure and innocence is lost. Your dreams of being a cowboy... ride off into the sunset...as the demands and worries of this world set in. Something is lost. Something is forgotten.

Every man needs to grieve. Grieving is a form of validation...it matters. Most of us men are walking around piecing our lives together with jobs and hobbies while a little boy inside is crying to get out. But the tears have been buried within a shell of woundedness.

Men, let yourselves grieve. It is in grieving that we cry out to our Father God..."restore that sense of innocence and adventure...give me back my heart." Grieving, which is deeply connected to brokenness, leads us to be desperate for healing and restoration. Every man needs healing. Every man needs restoration.

Thank you, Caleb and Brennan, for reminding me that it is never too late to saddle up!!!!