I have a mental illness. It is controlled by 10 different prescribed pills, two are considered controlled substance. The medication regime works, and I am grateful for a wonderful therapist and a full of life psychologist. My lovely wife, Christel, reminds me to take the meds and lets me know if I am acting according to the illness or not.
I had some people whom I love invite me to lunch, I thought to talk about what the ministry has done for their people and just get to know each other better. At the end of the lunch I asked, "Was there something specific you wanted to meet about?" They said yes and he left to get something out of the car. When he came back he gave me a 8 page photocopy of an introduction to a book that saying my mental illness caused by lack of faith, giving in to the evil one's lies, and finally I have turned away from God.
Enough about me. I love being at a place where, when there is inappropriate behavior, instead of just sending them home, unless they are a threat to themselves or others, I get to spend some time building trust enough to be able to get them away from the idea that they are sitting in the principal's office, but they are with Jesus. (Note: I am not saying I am the Jesus incarnate, I do not have that mental illness, but I do believe that I follow the way and truth and life of my Savior, and want to love others like He did and still does.)
I feel I am the most honored and humbled when someone would open the private, sealed off room, where the wounds are tender and still not healing, to expose them to me. Being a disciple of Jesus, calls me to not judge, but understand and love. There are no formulas or tricks or techniques to get someone to trust someone else.
Well... actually I am wrong there, there is a way. Die to self... no more than that, die.
Lean not on your understanding.
No formula, technique, tricks, education, or whatever. But simply let the Spirit lead and allow you to hear Jesus' voices. No judgement, love. When we die to ourselves and listen to the still, small Voice, we see the child as He sees them. Beloved. God is fond of them. It is up to us to be transformed before we can speak His truth.
My problem, my mental illness, is that I don't listen to the still small Voice, I listen to the past voices of declarations shouting in my mind, flesh, in fact the whole structure of who I am, my skeleton, my soul, spirit... I want to listen, my spirit yearns for freedom, and my mental state restricts to the loud shouting and placards of the crowd, who's power is based on me listening to them. IT causes my very chemical make up to become depleted.
Last week, I died. It was messy and full of broken bones and sliced off flesh, all the way down to the seed of who I was created to be. No longer did fear rule me. I notice that it didn't go away, I needed to that thought captive and speak the truth. No power. No ownership. It keeps trying, but each time gets easier.
I am grateful to a couple of "new friends" who responded to the still small Voice to come here to stand in prayer for me. I had to die, they stood by without saying a word, but praying, with goofy grins of knowing what I am going through because they had to. I am not a member of a club of any kind other than born again into the kingdom of heaven, here on earth.
Oh, I am still taking my medicine, seeing my therapist, and my for the rest of my life. It is not a sign of unbelief, or rejection of Christ's work, or possess by the evil one. It is in His time. It is wholistic and right now my body needs the supplement.
Thanks for taking time hang out.
tony
18 May 2017
23 April 2012
A walk...
Every once in a great while Jesus walks into your workplace, family room, or committee meeting and says, "Lay down your nets and follow..." Of course we would follow. Who wouldn't?
But then he says very calmly to lay down the very thing that your livelihood depends on and then invites you to begin a new experience with him. Leave this proven good thing and come with him to an uncertain destination. I am now asking myself is this right? I just made it to the place where I have some voice and health insurance.
He can walk into a shop that for generations and generations the signs on the wall says, "We have been doing it this way since 1536" and he says to them, "Starting today, we start over." A tradition stops and a new one begins. Many don't know the story of what was happening when this old way started and replaced another old thing that replaced another old way...
"Are you kidding? This is what we do!" can be our reply if we don't know for sure who is making the offer. Our criteria of leadership and expectations of improvement sometimes has us limited in recognizing the messiah who will come and lead us to the next promise land. Some young punk, with a pierced eyebrow, who hasn't attained the credentials in knowing how to do what we have been doing for eons, is now telling us there is a way to go before we get there. We have a Ph. freaking D, studied at an institution with ivy growing on its walls, wrote papers and been published in some of the oldest journals in this why and he, who has been a blue collar, shade-tree, paid by the job worker, has the audacity of telling us to continue on to the next station. "Who the hell does he think he is?"
The next step has us leaving the safety and confidence of this present charted terra-firma and put our weight on ground that hasn't been investigated using the proven empirical data taken over the entire time we occupied the present footprint. We may step into something we will have to wipe off if we are not careful. But Jesus bids us to come, take the next step.
Those of us who are older have seen these rebel-rousers come before, turned over the tables changing the name, or the color of the walls, who are just trying to do it their way. And in 3 years that way was painted over with newest ideas from those who want to keep us entrenched. "There is nothing new," we opine from our seat in the corner donut shop, and this new fang-dangled way of thinking will go out with the next load from the cat box. We think we have seen it all.
But then, we hear our name spoken from one we don't recognize the face but the calling is like we have known it our entire life. "Come." Tenderly calling us to trust and respond. This voice is different from the others in the past who's promotions had an underlying motive that came from an investment that would only pay off if others who will buy into the pyramid scheme. But this one seemed to have already paid the price and gave everything inviting us to "Come and see." We leave the good thing of yesterday for the promise of today.
Great people came "for such a time as this" who really had a message for a given time and to a generation. Then another message comes in its own due time. Same Voice, different message to bring us back to the story. Calling us to hold to the entire story rather than staying at a favorite chapter or verse.
Could we be in such a time as this?
But then he says very calmly to lay down the very thing that your livelihood depends on and then invites you to begin a new experience with him. Leave this proven good thing and come with him to an uncertain destination. I am now asking myself is this right? I just made it to the place where I have some voice and health insurance.
He can walk into a shop that for generations and generations the signs on the wall says, "We have been doing it this way since 1536" and he says to them, "Starting today, we start over." A tradition stops and a new one begins. Many don't know the story of what was happening when this old way started and replaced another old thing that replaced another old way...
"Are you kidding? This is what we do!" can be our reply if we don't know for sure who is making the offer. Our criteria of leadership and expectations of improvement sometimes has us limited in recognizing the messiah who will come and lead us to the next promise land. Some young punk, with a pierced eyebrow, who hasn't attained the credentials in knowing how to do what we have been doing for eons, is now telling us there is a way to go before we get there. We have a Ph. freaking D, studied at an institution with ivy growing on its walls, wrote papers and been published in some of the oldest journals in this why and he, who has been a blue collar, shade-tree, paid by the job worker, has the audacity of telling us to continue on to the next station. "Who the hell does he think he is?"
The next step has us leaving the safety and confidence of this present charted terra-firma and put our weight on ground that hasn't been investigated using the proven empirical data taken over the entire time we occupied the present footprint. We may step into something we will have to wipe off if we are not careful. But Jesus bids us to come, take the next step.
Isn't it hard for us who have invested our lives in the old way, hoping that the pay off will come soon and we will soon be on easy street. We are so invested that there is not any distinction between our identity and the branding of the old existing product. Everything we have has the old logo sewn into it. New ways do not have expiration dates on it, yet we seem to know when it is starts to lose it potency and flavor. Instead of getting a new one we double the dosage. It changes from wonder to routine and from relationship to obligation.
Those of us who are older have seen these rebel-rousers come before, turned over the tables changing the name, or the color of the walls, who are just trying to do it their way. And in 3 years that way was painted over with newest ideas from those who want to keep us entrenched. "There is nothing new," we opine from our seat in the corner donut shop, and this new fang-dangled way of thinking will go out with the next load from the cat box. We think we have seen it all.
But then, we hear our name spoken from one we don't recognize the face but the calling is like we have known it our entire life. "Come." Tenderly calling us to trust and respond. This voice is different from the others in the past who's promotions had an underlying motive that came from an investment that would only pay off if others who will buy into the pyramid scheme. But this one seemed to have already paid the price and gave everything inviting us to "Come and see." We leave the good thing of yesterday for the promise of today.
Great people came "for such a time as this" who really had a message for a given time and to a generation. Then another message comes in its own due time. Same Voice, different message to bring us back to the story. Calling us to hold to the entire story rather than staying at a favorite chapter or verse.
Could we be in such a time as this?
22 May 2011
The carnival just left town...
For the second time, a few months back, some radio preacher decided to raise his spot on Warhol's 15 minutes of fame by declaring yesterday the day the second coming would take place, the beginning of the end times. It wasn't a miscalculation, he calculated that he would make a lot of money from his advertisers because of the increase of people tuning in to hear what he was going to say. The Howard Stern of christian radio, if you will. He succeeded even if it didn't come to pass.
Jesus said, no one knows the date. No one. No harm, we go on living, right? But, the good message was again aligned with a snake oil salesman, and the message of Jesus lost credibility. Because of these liars, when we try to tell those who don't know about the way, the truth, and the life of Jesus, they are skeptical. I don't blame them. When these carnies minimize the truth by exploiting the titillation of fringe doctrine, the central message of love and reconciliation gets lost and questioned.
It seems the mainstream churches have been focused and arguing over the fringe for years as well. Trying to keep pure, they spent their time sweeping out the corners of the room, while neglecting the center... Love God, Love your neighbor.
Yesterday WAS the end of the world for many. 100,000 lost their lives because of malnutrition, poor drinking water, malaria, suicide, domestic violence...
08 March 2011
Getting to the root of it...
After much thought and a lot of accusations, I am changing my mind... again.
No, I am not going back to the Dodgers.
These were my heroes. I wasn't into Superman comics (maybe a little Batman, then Archie) I was into baseball. These men and others such as Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Hank and Tommy Aaron, Roger Maris, Mickey Mantle, Brooks Robinson, Norm Cash, Lou Brock, Rod Carew, Harmon Killebrew, Stan Musial, Bob Gibson, Al Kaline, and many, many more, were my Saints. I loved baseball because these and others played it. They didn't make much money and it was at great expense to them and their families to play the game they loved. People honored them because they could identify with them. Prima donnas hardly existed. No pharmaceutical enhancements, except liquor.
I played it in the street in front of my house, in the playground at school and later at the little league stadium. It was simple: a glove, ball, bat, t-shirts for the bases. Game on. Today the game is not the same as it was back then. I had a shirt that I painted the Los Angeles Dodger's LA on it. Today I could get sued for copyright infringement.
Today it is not about the game, it is about Prima donnas. Tim, I did not abandon the team of these great men, the MLB abandon the game for commercialized racketeering. I decided I am not leaving the LA Dodgers for the SF Giants, I really am leaving Major League Baseball and want to hang out at the local field, whether 3A, women's softball at CSUFresno, or little league, with my sons and daughters and their children and watch baseball, not a team. I am rooting again for baseball not a team.
"It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again..."
06 March 2011
I need to announce to all my friends and those who have supported me for many years...
I believe there comes a time in everyone's life when they need to stop and assess what is it that they believe, what they stand for, and what do they feel matters. I realized that I have been angry for many years and not sure what was the root of my frustration and bitterness.
I know that I have alienated many of my dear friends over the years with my view on the church and christian institutional hierarchy. I know many have questioned my faith and wondered if I truly believe in Jesus Christ. Some think I have become too liberal in my politics and backslid into being a radical left winger and heathen.
I need to be honest and not live the lie I feel I have been living for the past few years
I have decided I can no longer sit around and be a follower of an organization that turns its back on the common logic and reason of this world. I can no longer be a hypocrite by reading from the word and wearing the colors but in my heart no longer believe.
I have been praying, meditating, and seeking council from close friends and family, some were very surprised and disappointed in me and some figured it out last summer when I quit attending the fellowship. I never want to be a fraud nor have people think that I am a liar and a pretender. I believe in loyalty and commitment, but can no longer continue in this relationship.
Christel decided she would not leave me over this but is a little concerned if I am just going through a mid-life crisis. I have assured her this would not affect our relationship.
I want to make it official with just those of you to whom I am close.
I have decided to no longer call myself a Los Angeles Dodger fan and will begin following the local Fresno Grizzlies and San Francisco Giants.
25 September 2010
A granddaughter...
Last night, my son, Simon and his wife, Natasha, gave birth to an 8 pound, 22 inch, healthy baby girl, Paloma Michael. We were very excited to greet her.
11 September 2010
Evil...
I am not sure which is more evil, people who plan to kill people in the name of God or those who plan to burn the Koran in the name of Jesus Christ.
05 September 2010
Labor Day...
Enjoy this Labor Day, remembering that many people pick our fruits and vegetables, pack our beef and chicken, drive our food to market, bake our bread, and care for our children who have no voice, make minimum wages, are without health care, and live below the poverty line.
04 May 2010
"Four dead in Ohio...
Yesterday marked the 40th anniversary of The Kent State shootings – also known as the May 4 massacre or Kent State massacre – occurred at Kent State University in the city of Kent, Ohio, and involved the shooting of unarmed college students by members of the Ohio National Guard on Monday, May 4, 1970. The guardsmen fired 67 rounds over a period of 13 seconds, killing four students and wounding nine others, one of whom suffered permanent paralysis.Some of the students who were shot had been protesting against the American invasion of Cambodia, which President Richard Nixon announced in a television address on April 30. Other students who were shot had been walking nearby or observing the protest from a distance.
There was a significant national response to the shootings: hundreds of universities, colleges, and high schools closed throughout the United States due to a student strike of four million students, and the event further affected the public opinion – at an already socially contentious time – over the role of the United States in the Vietnam War. Taken directly from Wikipedia, for those who never heard of Kent State Shooting. For more information check it out under Kent State Shootings.
Our friend Cosby asked if I would make a comment on it this year. All I can do is give my little perspective from 2500 miles away.
I was 16, been interested in the Viet Nam War since I was a fan of Bobby Kennedy, 3 years earlier. It was a nightly news event with Walter Cronkite, with video and war correspondents giving death tolls and nearly live broadcast. This was different for the country who in the past wars they saw newsreels that gave some news but it was "over there" and not necessarily right in our living rooms. Then my friend, Charlie Petty was Killed in Action. I began to protest, ditch school to participate in marches.
This was a "conflict" in southeast Asia who no one heard of and few really understood why we were there. WW2 seemed to be understandable in two theaters, Europe and the Pacific, aggressors bombing us or our Allies. They were in our neighborhood. Viet Nam was not. We were told that it was a domino affect that it starts with this little country and next thing you know they will be in New York City. There was not a clear objective except to win and even that didn't seem clear.
The My Lai massacre was being uncovered and throwing people into an outrage into the veracity, from the government, about this war. News of the massacre began to turn some of the hearts of the country away from our young men fighting there. We did not do those things as Americans! There was no romance to this war. The country was starting to not support it. Nixon talked about deescalating the battles. The government was beginning to tell us it was time to end this thing. Then just a few days before Kent State, Nixon gets on TV and announces that we are invading Cambodia. Young people were pissed and began another round of demonstrations and protest. Into the streets and campus, people protested with anger.
The protests became vandalistic and destructive. An ROTC building was torched on campus, and other destruction was happening around the Kent campus and downtown, it was a bit scary for everyone. Everyone was on edge. This was not a peaceful rally, the national guard and police fired tear gas and the protesters started throwing it back along with rocks and bricks. It got out of hand. And then the shots began. The National Guard started shooting. Four dead, nine wounded. Wait a minute, this wasn't just a protest, this was beginning to be a revolution and the government began to fight back. The news began to report this and many campuses erupted. Protest were now not just about the war but the government of the United States.
The distrust against Nixon grew. The distrust against Corporations, who were making a profit off of the war, grew. If you were over 30 you weren't trusted. If you were in charge, you were not trusted. This was now about revolution. Democracy was not working, and the youth, who couldn't vote, started to speak with violence. Great music came out of that time. There were still many peaceful demonstrations. But banks and corporations started getting bombed, such as the B of A in Isla Vista, CA. This was not flower power, it was about power.
My thoughts are... War is wrong. It begets violence. It creates an atmosphere where good people do bad things. I do believe that most of the soldiers who fought in the VNW were heroes and did what they were told to do. Many saved lives and gave their lives for the country who called them there. When the leaders of the country decide to go into battle and lay down the lives of young men and women, it is important that good men and women vote and select the right people to make those terrible decisions for us.
I think protest is a good way of letting the leaders know that we are against something, but it needs to be peaceful. Civil disobedience is more disruptive and has a deep affect as we have seen in India and in Birmingham.
Protesting is not safe but it is right. We should always be peaceful and humble and should not be surprise that if we start throwing stones, they will start shooting. Even if we don't throw stones, when we tie up commerce by blocking roadways, we are going to get clubbed on the head and hauled off to jail. Commerce doesn't stop for anyone. It is not safe to stand up to injustice. When someone who has power and wants more will use force to get it and keep it.
The sixties and seventies ended and many of those same protesters have become consumers who are now making money on injustice. We are no longer protesting the things that need to be stopped. We are raising our children to be consumers and not adding anything to the soul and conscience of this nation. We have sold off the farms that our grandfathers broke their backs trying to create and to build more boxes that look like the one right next to it. We have created fruit that look good and last on the shelf but taste like cardboard. We talk about living green so the earth will survive, but only if it doesn't inconvenience ourselves too much. We are concerned if our children are safe but haven't taught them how to survive and live. We have created worship which entertains and is environmentally comfortable.
We sold our homes for three times what we paid for it just a few years before. It wasn't about the value of a home, greed changes that to the amount we can get. We became those we were protesting against. We were morally bankrupt even when the economy was at it strongest.
Today, Kent State is a top University in Ohio and we don't protest enough!
29 April 2010
Growing old...
I have male pattern baldness, my back goes out, my beard is gray, I need my tri-focals to see. I am growing old.
But wait... I am not feeling bad, because I am growing. I know things today that I didn't know I knew. New things I know which are really old things. Things that have been around but I was too young to notice. Now I notice. Now I know.
I had a conversation today, which a few years ago, I would have said things like "thats not fair, that's not right... we did the right thing, they did the wrong thing, why are we having to pay..." Today I didn't say that, I realize I have seen this before and the outcome will not be about what is right or fair, but this is one of those times to settle and move on. This isn't worth the fight. I am not NOT fighting because I am chicken, but I have been around the block and know that this particular issue isn't where I want to spend my time.
The point of this isn't that I don't fight anymore, I hold my ground a lot, but I know when to fight and when not to. I appreciate the story out of John 8, the woman caught in adultery is brought to Jesus. When confronted with Jesus' words, "'If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.' ...At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first..."
I want to be the kind of old guy who is not only the first to drop my stones, (I am not talking kidney stones here) but to not be so quick to pick them up in the first place. I do want to be first to protect the vulnerable, last to be an accuser of the innocents.
I would continue but I forgot what I was going to say...
But wait... I am not feeling bad, because I am growing. I know things today that I didn't know I knew. New things I know which are really old things. Things that have been around but I was too young to notice. Now I notice. Now I know.
I had a conversation today, which a few years ago, I would have said things like "thats not fair, that's not right... we did the right thing, they did the wrong thing, why are we having to pay..." Today I didn't say that, I realize I have seen this before and the outcome will not be about what is right or fair, but this is one of those times to settle and move on. This isn't worth the fight. I am not NOT fighting because I am chicken, but I have been around the block and know that this particular issue isn't where I want to spend my time.
The point of this isn't that I don't fight anymore, I hold my ground a lot, but I know when to fight and when not to. I appreciate the story out of John 8, the woman caught in adultery is brought to Jesus. When confronted with Jesus' words, "'If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.' ...At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first..."
I want to be the kind of old guy who is not only the first to drop my stones, (I am not talking kidney stones here) but to not be so quick to pick them up in the first place. I do want to be first to protect the vulnerable, last to be an accuser of the innocents.
I would continue but I forgot what I was going to say...
20 March 2010
No child left behind...
At first I thought they were telling children "pull up your pants." You know, No child's left behind. Maybe people were tired of seeing children and youth's left cheek. Oh the Department of Formulation, I mean, Education.
I wonder a lot. I wonder more now that I am out of school than I did when I was in school.
I was a terrible student. I spent a lot of time in the principal's office, vice principal's office, after school detention, writing on the blackboard, which was green, I will not daydream in class... I will not daydream in class... I will not daydream in class... I will not daydream in class... I will not daydream in class... (Which, by-the-way, is when I became enamored with the ellipsis...)
I asked a lot of questions but rarely found the answers satisfying my curiosity. Most of my teachers told me that I wasn't very smart and there was always the possibility of being HELD BACK. I would have dreams where my school chums were running forward to play baseball or foursquare and I was being HELD BACK by big hands that smelled of coffee, cigarettes and chalk. I wasn't very good at reading my text books because I found myself reading the same sentence over and over again or realize I wasn't paying attention during the last two paragraphs or didn't remember where I put my text books.
Once I raised my hand and asked my math teacher why we needed to know this math stuff and his reply was, "...because next year the math will be harder and you will need to know this then." After a minute of trying to understand his response I raised my hand and asked the same question... I was then sent to the nurse's office to have my hearing tested. After school was out, then I was sent back into my classroom to write on the blackboard, which was green, I will not ask stupid questions...
It seemed that the classes where questions were asked were not the "remedial" classrooms but the "advanced" classrooms. My friends, most of whom were in those classrooms, told me about what they learned that day and how interesting it was and then I told them what I was being taught and even though we were the same age, we weren't be taught the same thing. I thought maybe I will learn what they were being taught and given permission to ask questions next year. No, and when I asked why, I learned how to spell "contumacious" by writing it on the blackboard, which was green, 100 times.
Once my friend, who is in the government in Washington DC, and I broke into the counseling office at my high school (I can tell you now because the statute of limitations are up) and all we did was look at our own file folders. I remember sitting in the corner, with a little light which shown from the security alarm, reading what teachers have said about me throughout my 11+ years of education. It took me a while but I read through my life from Kindergarten to Junior Year. In my early years, my teachers said they were fond of me but had concerns about my concentration and distracting the students around me. They recommended summer school. Then in the later elementary grades, there was a diagnosis that I needed speech therapy and I was beginning to fall behind. My music teacher wrote that I was a delightful lad and was learning well on my trombone, recommended that I travel to the other grade school to play with that band.
Sixth grade and through Junior High, my teachers had grave concerns that I was on the border of flunking and should be held back. There was even a note from my bus driver stating that I used a nasty word in the Japanese language and that I should not be allowed to ever ride his bus again, which I never rode it again. 申し訳ありません, Mr. Doi
High School, there was a lot of comments which said, "Tony is a delight to have in class when he is not being a distraction to me or the other students."
There were a couple of teachers who I loved because they were teaching me through other methods which used my modalities of strength instead of just through reading. I would stay after to ask my questions which were usually answered which led to another question which led to another...
After reading about me through the words of these teacher, I understood some things. One, there are many ways to learn, not just through reading. I needed to use my strong modalities to learn, primarily kinestetic, as well as ask questions so that I understood the concept, not just memorized the answer. Two, many teachers only know how to teach one way. Good teachers understand the child so that they can "train up a child in THE WAY they should go, when they are old they will not depart from it."
Blessings to those who read all the way to the end and didn't get distracted...
I wonder a lot. I wonder more now that I am out of school than I did when I was in school.
I was a terrible student. I spent a lot of time in the principal's office, vice principal's office, after school detention, writing on the blackboard, which was green, I will not daydream in class... I will not daydream in class... I will not daydream in class... I will not daydream in class... I will not daydream in class... (Which, by-the-way, is when I became enamored with the ellipsis...)
I asked a lot of questions but rarely found the answers satisfying my curiosity. Most of my teachers told me that I wasn't very smart and there was always the possibility of being HELD BACK. I would have dreams where my school chums were running forward to play baseball or foursquare and I was being HELD BACK by big hands that smelled of coffee, cigarettes and chalk. I wasn't very good at reading my text books because I found myself reading the same sentence over and over again or realize I wasn't paying attention during the last two paragraphs or didn't remember where I put my text books.
Once I raised my hand and asked my math teacher why we needed to know this math stuff and his reply was, "...because next year the math will be harder and you will need to know this then." After a minute of trying to understand his response I raised my hand and asked the same question... I was then sent to the nurse's office to have my hearing tested. After school was out, then I was sent back into my classroom to write on the blackboard, which was green, I will not ask stupid questions...
It seemed that the classes where questions were asked were not the "remedial" classrooms but the "advanced" classrooms. My friends, most of whom were in those classrooms, told me about what they learned that day and how interesting it was and then I told them what I was being taught and even though we were the same age, we weren't be taught the same thing. I thought maybe I will learn what they were being taught and given permission to ask questions next year. No, and when I asked why, I learned how to spell "contumacious" by writing it on the blackboard, which was green, 100 times.
Once my friend, who is in the government in Washington DC, and I broke into the counseling office at my high school (I can tell you now because the statute of limitations are up) and all we did was look at our own file folders. I remember sitting in the corner, with a little light which shown from the security alarm, reading what teachers have said about me throughout my 11+ years of education. It took me a while but I read through my life from Kindergarten to Junior Year. In my early years, my teachers said they were fond of me but had concerns about my concentration and distracting the students around me. They recommended summer school. Then in the later elementary grades, there was a diagnosis that I needed speech therapy and I was beginning to fall behind. My music teacher wrote that I was a delightful lad and was learning well on my trombone, recommended that I travel to the other grade school to play with that band.
Sixth grade and through Junior High, my teachers had grave concerns that I was on the border of flunking and should be held back. There was even a note from my bus driver stating that I used a nasty word in the Japanese language and that I should not be allowed to ever ride his bus again, which I never rode it again. 申し訳ありません, Mr. Doi
High School, there was a lot of comments which said, "Tony is a delight to have in class when he is not being a distraction to me or the other students."
There were a couple of teachers who I loved because they were teaching me through other methods which used my modalities of strength instead of just through reading. I would stay after to ask my questions which were usually answered which led to another question which led to another...
After reading about me through the words of these teacher, I understood some things. One, there are many ways to learn, not just through reading. I needed to use my strong modalities to learn, primarily kinestetic, as well as ask questions so that I understood the concept, not just memorized the answer. Two, many teachers only know how to teach one way. Good teachers understand the child so that they can "train up a child in THE WAY they should go, when they are old they will not depart from it."
Blessings to those who read all the way to the end and didn't get distracted...
06 March 2010
Places where we find ourselves...
Early yesterday morning, I drove up to Stockton to visit a pastor and friend of mine. I was enthralled by the beauty of the rosy sun rays emanating through and over the slate gray mountains, black skies morphing into Dodger blue and the colors of the fields, so fresh and viridescent after the previous rains showing a new array of mustard colored flowers. Admiring the flowers planted along the highway, blossoms in the orchards, marveling at pinkish clouds which hung like banners overhead whispering the arrival of a new day, and the red and blue lights from the car behind me... California Highway Patrol.
I pull over to the side of the road, amidst the golden poppies, just opening up to receive the morning rays, and squashed under the weight of my tires and the boots of the patrolman approaching cautiously to the passenger-side window to inform me of the reality of my existence. No greetings: just information.
The rehearsed lines were given, state documents found and handed over, and the patrolman walked into the field of yellow fiddleneck which danced in concert around him. He could have been mistaken for the reaper in a van Gogh painting of the wheat field, but instead of a scythe he held a pen and a black heavy leather citation pad. My thoughts changed to insurance rates, court appearance, online traffic school, disappointment and then humiliation as drivers drove by relieved knowing that the sentinel is busy with some poor schmuck and isn't noticing their speed.
He moved through the field towards my passenger side window with one hand on his side arm and the other on the leather book, documents and then I see it... the goldenrod of the citation informing me that I existed on March 5 at 6:53am on State Highway 99 just north of Merced, California.
I pull over to the side of the road, amidst the golden poppies, just opening up to receive the morning rays, and squashed under the weight of my tires and the boots of the patrolman approaching cautiously to the passenger-side window to inform me of the reality of my existence. No greetings: just information.
The rehearsed lines were given, state documents found and handed over, and the patrolman walked into the field of yellow fiddleneck which danced in concert around him. He could have been mistaken for the reaper in a van Gogh painting of the wheat field, but instead of a scythe he held a pen and a black heavy leather citation pad. My thoughts changed to insurance rates, court appearance, online traffic school, disappointment and then humiliation as drivers drove by relieved knowing that the sentinel is busy with some poor schmuck and isn't noticing their speed.
He moved through the field towards my passenger side window with one hand on his side arm and the other on the leather book, documents and then I see it... the goldenrod of the citation informing me that I existed on March 5 at 6:53am on State Highway 99 just north of Merced, California.
20 February 2010
Occupado...
"Yeah, we just take a few tokes and get mellow and watch a movie or just hang out... I don't see any difference between a few tokes of pot and a bottle of beer or a glass of wine... What do you think?"
Went the conversation with a young christian friend. What did I think?
I began telling him about a guy who wrote the book, 3 Cups of Tea...
In 1992, Greg Mortenson attempted to climb K2, the world's second highest mountain, in the Karakoram range of northern Pakistan, as a way of honoring the memory of his deceased sister Christa. After more than 70 days on the mountain, Greg and three other climbers had their ascent interrupted by the need to complete a 75-hour life-saving rescue of a fifth climber. After getting lost during his descent, he became weak and exhausted, and by chance alone, instead of arriving in Askole, where his porters awaited, he came across Korphe, a small village built on a shelf jutting out from a canyon. He was greeted and taken in by the chief elder of Korphe, Haji Ali of Korphe.
To repay the remote community for its hospitality, Mortenson promised to build a school for the village. After difficulties in raising capital, Mortenson was introduced to Jean Hoerni, a Silicon Valley pioneer who donated the money that Mortenson needed for his school. In the last months of Hoerni's life (Hoerni was dying from leukemia), he co-founded the Central Asia Institute, endowing the CAI to build schools in rural Pakistan and Afghanistan.
Mortenson faced many daunting challenges in his quest to raise funds for the building of more than 55 schools in Taliban territory, including death threats from Islamic mullahs, long periods of separation from his family, and being kidnapped by Taliban sympathizers… (this was cut and pasted from Wikipedia just to save time and effort of recall...) I went on, "and then Mortenson thought, 'I wonder if there is a difference between a few tokes of pot and a bottle of beer.'"
My young friend said, "Really?"
"No, he was too busy doing heroic things with his life to deal with the trivialities of conversations and thoughts of this minute details. YOU ARE BORED!! DO SOMETHING HEROIC WITH YOUR LIFE!"
How do we create people who are willing to become heroes? How do we get people to stop thinking small and begin thinking of the possibilities that are huge? I overheard a young child telling his mom, "I'm bored!" and the mom got something to out of her purse to occupy their time.
I think sometimes all we try to do is occupy the time instead of occupy a life. On the flight home from Spokane a last week I sat in the back of the plane, across from the bathroom. Every time someone went into the lavatory and locked the door, the small sign on the wall lit up, OCCUPIED. It was also translated into Spanish, OCCUPADO. People did their business, finished up the paperwork, and went back to their seats. For many minutes after they left the lavatory there was a residue, a fragrance of their time occupying the space.
Occupado... it made me think, am I occupying my life in such a way that would have made an impact on those around me after I leave this journey? (Only with a pleasant fragrance that lingers.) Or am I so puny and concern myself with the trivial practices of developing theories and activities that only occupy my time for the moment?
I watch people going off to prestigious private and state universities only to leave with a grade point average, a tremendous debt, and no understanding of how to live a heroic life. All of that knowledge reduced to regurgitation instead of application.
How many Sunday morning sermons from the inspired Word of God crafted to keep people from sinning rather than to inspire radicals to erupt the Kingdom of Heaven into the midst of mediocrity and malaise. I have heard the most heated conversations arguing over whether the Scriptures are inspired by the Holy Spirit, but not seeing a life inspired by the power (dunamis..dynamite) of the Spirit of God .
Back to my young christian friend... My fear is that most people reading this will be more concern about a christian smoking pot and not about the wasted time of getting mellow and just hanging out.
Went the conversation with a young christian friend. What did I think?
I began telling him about a guy who wrote the book, 3 Cups of Tea...
In 1992, Greg Mortenson attempted to climb K2, the world's second highest mountain, in the Karakoram range of northern Pakistan, as a way of honoring the memory of his deceased sister Christa. After more than 70 days on the mountain, Greg and three other climbers had their ascent interrupted by the need to complete a 75-hour life-saving rescue of a fifth climber. After getting lost during his descent, he became weak and exhausted, and by chance alone, instead of arriving in Askole, where his porters awaited, he came across Korphe, a small village built on a shelf jutting out from a canyon. He was greeted and taken in by the chief elder of Korphe, Haji Ali of Korphe.
To repay the remote community for its hospitality, Mortenson promised to build a school for the village. After difficulties in raising capital, Mortenson was introduced to Jean Hoerni, a Silicon Valley pioneer who donated the money that Mortenson needed for his school. In the last months of Hoerni's life (Hoerni was dying from leukemia), he co-founded the Central Asia Institute, endowing the CAI to build schools in rural Pakistan and Afghanistan.
Mortenson faced many daunting challenges in his quest to raise funds for the building of more than 55 schools in Taliban territory, including death threats from Islamic mullahs, long periods of separation from his family, and being kidnapped by Taliban sympathizers… (this was cut and pasted from Wikipedia just to save time and effort of recall...) I went on, "and then Mortenson thought, 'I wonder if there is a difference between a few tokes of pot and a bottle of beer.'"
My young friend said, "Really?"
"No, he was too busy doing heroic things with his life to deal with the trivialities of conversations and thoughts of this minute details. YOU ARE BORED!! DO SOMETHING HEROIC WITH YOUR LIFE!"
How do we create people who are willing to become heroes? How do we get people to stop thinking small and begin thinking of the possibilities that are huge? I overheard a young child telling his mom, "I'm bored!" and the mom got something to out of her purse to occupy their time.
I think sometimes all we try to do is occupy the time instead of occupy a life. On the flight home from Spokane a last week I sat in the back of the plane, across from the bathroom. Every time someone went into the lavatory and locked the door, the small sign on the wall lit up, OCCUPIED. It was also translated into Spanish, OCCUPADO. People did their business, finished up the paperwork, and went back to their seats. For many minutes after they left the lavatory there was a residue, a fragrance of their time occupying the space.
Occupado... it made me think, am I occupying my life in such a way that would have made an impact on those around me after I leave this journey? (Only with a pleasant fragrance that lingers.) Or am I so puny and concern myself with the trivial practices of developing theories and activities that only occupy my time for the moment?
I watch people going off to prestigious private and state universities only to leave with a grade point average, a tremendous debt, and no understanding of how to live a heroic life. All of that knowledge reduced to regurgitation instead of application.
How many Sunday morning sermons from the inspired Word of God crafted to keep people from sinning rather than to inspire radicals to erupt the Kingdom of Heaven into the midst of mediocrity and malaise. I have heard the most heated conversations arguing over whether the Scriptures are inspired by the Holy Spirit, but not seeing a life inspired by the power (dunamis..dynamite) of the Spirit of God .
Back to my young christian friend... My fear is that most people reading this will be more concern about a christian smoking pot and not about the wasted time of getting mellow and just hanging out.
10 December 2009
An open letter regarding the changes at Calvin Crest...
AN OPEN REPLY TO A QUESTION...
My dear friend, Thanks for the post and the concerns. I know you care about Calvin Crest and all the changes that are taking place. The craft/first aider position is only a craft position who will help out the nurses on Sundays and Saturdays with check-in and check-out. They will not be taking people down the hill during the daytime but may, just like the program assistants or dishwashers, be taking people down when they are not "on duty."
The goal for crafts and everything is minimize spending, maximize learning and knowing. Throw-away crafts are gone. I would rather put money into something that will outlast their faith impact (mid-November).
I appreciate your asking but this is still thinking IN THE PAST. Quit trying to save what we have done with less people and start thinking what needs to happen and we will hire the resources to make it happen (some resources being people).
I want to think about and react to what are the things that need to happen on that blessed property, that can't happen in their homes, churches, malls, iPods, X-boxes, HD TVs, cinemas, bedrooms,...
In your subject line, you called it "Redesigning Camp" but it should be reImagining Camp. Take the pencil out of your hand for a while and just listen. Keep asking your very appreciated questions, but dream/pray more. Open your eyes to what is going on around you. Get out and meet people. Not just their names but their souls and hidden places where fear, pain, hope, and joy dwells. We cannot design if we do not know what is happening or what can happen. What needs do we have that are in this area, where we are planted (Central California), where we can transform lives through the power, wisdom, magic, and love of the Spirit of God.
So you see it is more than just what the craft person will be doing. The question comes down to what do we see people need to know and be able to do, so they can navigate well in the Kingdom of God and I am not talking about when they die.
This is more than just Bible Study (however The Story must be taught well), it may be learning how to tie a knot, solve a puzzle, make bread, visit the sick, raise the dead, question the information coming to them, fall in love with the Savior and their neighbor again,...
I know there are a lot of concerns and even more opinions, but this is not the time to resist change but to listen to The Voice as we are led, I believe, through this desert time to a place of promise. This will take hard work and commitment and the uninvested will not be a part of the conversation. We will need people who will lay down their opinions and pick up their cross.
Sorry, I started to preach...
My dear friend, Thanks for the post and the concerns. I know you care about Calvin Crest and all the changes that are taking place. The craft/first aider position is only a craft position who will help out the nurses on Sundays and Saturdays with check-in and check-out. They will not be taking people down the hill during the daytime but may, just like the program assistants or dishwashers, be taking people down when they are not "on duty."
The goal for crafts and everything is minimize spending, maximize learning and knowing. Throw-away crafts are gone. I would rather put money into something that will outlast their faith impact (mid-November).
I appreciate your asking but this is still thinking IN THE PAST. Quit trying to save what we have done with less people and start thinking what needs to happen and we will hire the resources to make it happen (some resources being people).
I want to think about and react to what are the things that need to happen on that blessed property, that can't happen in their homes, churches, malls, iPods, X-boxes, HD TVs, cinemas, bedrooms,...
In your subject line, you called it "Redesigning Camp" but it should be reImagining Camp. Take the pencil out of your hand for a while and just listen. Keep asking your very appreciated questions, but dream/pray more. Open your eyes to what is going on around you. Get out and meet people. Not just their names but their souls and hidden places where fear, pain, hope, and joy dwells. We cannot design if we do not know what is happening or what can happen. What needs do we have that are in this area, where we are planted (Central California), where we can transform lives through the power, wisdom, magic, and love of the Spirit of God.
So you see it is more than just what the craft person will be doing. The question comes down to what do we see people need to know and be able to do, so they can navigate well in the Kingdom of God and I am not talking about when they die.
This is more than just Bible Study (however The Story must be taught well), it may be learning how to tie a knot, solve a puzzle, make bread, visit the sick, raise the dead, question the information coming to them, fall in love with the Savior and their neighbor again,...
I know there are a lot of concerns and even more opinions, but this is not the time to resist change but to listen to The Voice as we are led, I believe, through this desert time to a place of promise. This will take hard work and commitment and the uninvested will not be a part of the conversation. We will need people who will lay down their opinions and pick up their cross.
Sorry, I started to preach...
25 October 2009
24 October 2009
"No problem."
Alright I know that I haven't written much lately but I gotta say that I am very concerned about the state of youth today. Drugs, promiscuity, AIDs, low educational test scores, economic impact, demonic possession, alcoholism, sagging trousers, texting while driving, or even adolescent obesity... are all things I could write about but I don't think matter as much as what happened to me yesterday.
I was getting coffee at the local espressarero and paid for my doppio con panna. "Thank you." I said to the nose ring'd, eyebrow ring'd, lip ring'd, eyelid ring'd young woman. Without looking up, she said, "No problem."
No problem? Really, that is the only reply you can come up with for someone who is keeping you employed by stopping, getting out of my car, walking up, ordering, waiting 5 minutes and said, "Thank you" to you?
Aren't you really saying "If it was a problem I wouldn't have helped you."
I am not asking you to say "It was my pleasure." or "Gee, I was honored to serve someone as incredible looking as you."
No problem. No connection, lack luster, ho hummed, lack of expression, the warmth of a cadaver. Nothing.
There is something about problem. It is alright to go out of your way for someone. It creates a bit of sweat, which evaporates, and becomes part of the environment, which we breathe in and out and contribute with the moisture of our breathe which adds to the water content in the atmosphere, creating clouds, developing rain, saturating the ground, causing plants to grow, flowers to bloom, coffee beans to ripen, people to harvest them, bringing economic stability to third-world countries, eliminating dictators who oppress the poor and develop nuclear weapons, reducing fear and ultimately bringing peace to all.
And she didn't count out my change either...
I was getting coffee at the local espressarero and paid for my doppio con panna. "Thank you." I said to the nose ring'd, eyebrow ring'd, lip ring'd, eyelid ring'd young woman. Without looking up, she said, "No problem."
No problem? Really, that is the only reply you can come up with for someone who is keeping you employed by stopping, getting out of my car, walking up, ordering, waiting 5 minutes and said, "Thank you" to you?
Aren't you really saying "If it was a problem I wouldn't have helped you."
I am not asking you to say "It was my pleasure." or "Gee, I was honored to serve someone as incredible looking as you."
No problem. No connection, lack luster, ho hummed, lack of expression, the warmth of a cadaver. Nothing.
There is something about problem. It is alright to go out of your way for someone. It creates a bit of sweat, which evaporates, and becomes part of the environment, which we breathe in and out and contribute with the moisture of our breathe which adds to the water content in the atmosphere, creating clouds, developing rain, saturating the ground, causing plants to grow, flowers to bloom, coffee beans to ripen, people to harvest them, bringing economic stability to third-world countries, eliminating dictators who oppress the poor and develop nuclear weapons, reducing fear and ultimately bringing peace to all.
And she didn't count out my change either...
30 September 2009
My dear friend...
Matthew,
I wanted to blog the response to your email, not to expose you but to answer a question I get asked quite often.
I don't think that it is your faith that is falling apart but that it is not made of the kind of substance that can hold much weight. Let me explain...
In sunday school, the institution gave very easy answers to very complex issues. It is easier to teach that "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so..." with a simple to tune, than to debate the kind of semantic arguments that you present today.
Your mind is not satisfied with Jesus loves you because the story tells you that he does. You are trying to figure out all of the other stuff that, are trivial compared to his love. You test this love, just like you did with your parents. Did you ask your mom why she loved you in her imperfection? Did you ever see her or your father's wrath. Did the love dissolve because you were being punished for your stubbornness. Love wants more than mediocrity.
The questions you are asking are not the ones you should be asking. Those are puny questions and have been asked around college dorms and pubs for centuries.
Go big. Ask:
why do men keep women subjective?
why do men believe it is alright to own another human being?
why do we continually slaughter those who are weaker than they are?
why do we pollute the very air and water that we need to keep us alive?
why do we not care if people are dying to get to this country to earn a minimum wage so that their family can live a little bit better?
why do we allow such hatred against a group of people because of their skin color or country of origin?
why do those who confess to believe in God not care about those whom God loves?
What difference does it make if it is allegory or history, we don't want to believe it to be true or that the reality of love can make a difference in this world of pain and suffering. We want to be the controllers, the conquerors, the predator, the one in power. We find humility an act of weakness. We set our eyes on useless people and give them honor, emulation, and envy because their bone structure is pleasing to the eye or arouses our lusts. Why do I even know Paris Hilton's name?
Is the devil real or does it have influence over us? That is not the question. The question is do I want to be more than just reacting to my hormones, sugar levels, lusts, thought impulses, etc.? Do I want to develop the spiritual life that transform the mechanics of my self. Or do I want to put the blame on someone or something else. I believe evil is real, but I don't want to give it any part of my life or thoughts.
The question is: Do I take communion and believe it to be a symbol of a symbol of a symbol of being the body, mind and heart of Christ or am I consuming, participating in, digesting, and then behaving in the same way that we know Jesus to be acting in this world of suffering and deep pain?
Your questions can not be answered in you mind, it has to be answered by the way you live.
ASK BIG QUESTIONS! LIVE BIGGER ANSWERS!!!!!!
I wanted to blog the response to your email, not to expose you but to answer a question I get asked quite often.
I don't think that it is your faith that is falling apart but that it is not made of the kind of substance that can hold much weight. Let me explain...
In sunday school, the institution gave very easy answers to very complex issues. It is easier to teach that "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so..." with a simple to tune, than to debate the kind of semantic arguments that you present today.
Your mind is not satisfied with Jesus loves you because the story tells you that he does. You are trying to figure out all of the other stuff that, are trivial compared to his love. You test this love, just like you did with your parents. Did you ask your mom why she loved you in her imperfection? Did you ever see her or your father's wrath. Did the love dissolve because you were being punished for your stubbornness. Love wants more than mediocrity.
The questions you are asking are not the ones you should be asking. Those are puny questions and have been asked around college dorms and pubs for centuries.
Go big. Ask:
why do men keep women subjective?
why do men believe it is alright to own another human being?
why do we continually slaughter those who are weaker than they are?
why do we pollute the very air and water that we need to keep us alive?
why do we not care if people are dying to get to this country to earn a minimum wage so that their family can live a little bit better?
why do we allow such hatred against a group of people because of their skin color or country of origin?
why do those who confess to believe in God not care about those whom God loves?
What difference does it make if it is allegory or history, we don't want to believe it to be true or that the reality of love can make a difference in this world of pain and suffering. We want to be the controllers, the conquerors, the predator, the one in power. We find humility an act of weakness. We set our eyes on useless people and give them honor, emulation, and envy because their bone structure is pleasing to the eye or arouses our lusts. Why do I even know Paris Hilton's name?
Is the devil real or does it have influence over us? That is not the question. The question is do I want to be more than just reacting to my hormones, sugar levels, lusts, thought impulses, etc.? Do I want to develop the spiritual life that transform the mechanics of my self. Or do I want to put the blame on someone or something else. I believe evil is real, but I don't want to give it any part of my life or thoughts.
The question is: Do I take communion and believe it to be a symbol of a symbol of a symbol of being the body, mind and heart of Christ or am I consuming, participating in, digesting, and then behaving in the same way that we know Jesus to be acting in this world of suffering and deep pain?
Your questions can not be answered in you mind, it has to be answered by the way you live.
ASK BIG QUESTIONS! LIVE BIGGER ANSWERS!!!!!!
06 September 2009
Labor Day...
I know I have said this before but I don't take Labor Day to be a day to rest but to remember (isn't that suppose to be done on Memorial Day...) those who labor so I can live. I am thankful for those who plant, harvest, ship, and market all that I eat and drink as well as wear, buy, etc.
I work at 5000 ft. elevation, in the most beautiful site on earth where people are willing to come and reflect on the life and love, death and resurrection of Jesus. But there is a whisper beginning to be audible, can't make out the words but the heart is towards those who labor. No plans, no call, just a change of heart.
It is not a passion, it is more of a turning of the head to notice, to begin to understand, to... I don't know what. But my head has turned.
My father was a businessman. Bought an ailing printing business and turned it into a financially stable concern. He treated the people who labored for him with dignity and respect. When times got hard, he paid them before himself and we would eat rice and beans and a little hamburger during that time. My mom made it into a feast. He would tell my mom what was going on in these people's lives over dinner. Births, sickness, immigration, new homes, educational achievements, etc. I would hear more about their lives than I would about my cousins, aunts and uncles. It was never gossip, complaints, or bitterness. He didn't have much turnover while he owned it. Most who left started their own business, a few became his competition, but most became his subcontractors. Instead of hiring people to replace them, he would job out that particular printing process to them. Never an enemy, always a partner. Respect. Integrity.
My dad was an artist, he painted on Sundays. While we were at church, he was in his studio painting. He worked Monday through Friday, and on Saturday mornings. It was his passion. Business was what he did so that we could live and he could paint, sculpture, make cut glass windows, etc. He never despised his work, he understood work, he also understood art. His life was a ballet of sorts. The libretto, music, and choreography working together to produce an event, a family, a life.
We lived near vineyards, orchards, packing houses, and subdivisions. I went to school with farmer's kids, migrant worker's kids, line worker's kid, airline pilot's kids, and business owner's kids. All with ballets going on in their own homes. It was a good place to be raised.
As the scripture tell us, "Train up a child, in the way they should go and when they are old they won't depart from it." Maybe the whisper that I am hearing is a return to the way that I was trained up...
16 July 2009
21 February 2009
How am I doing?
I am usually pretty tired this part of the year. I have been interviewing many people. I really have enjoyed many of the people I talked to, as is the usual, which is why I love my job so much.
I met one woman, who has been a christian for five years and in that time has been to communist Asia for an extended time to help equip the believers, share the truth of Jesus with her family and now they are followers of the Truth, is a Bible study small group leader at the university, is highly respected by her peers, is about to graduate and is asking if she can work at the camp. I am asking her not to come work for me but to continue her ministry at the place where I do mine. Partners in ministry. Isn't that what it is about? Sitting with her outside a Starbucks, on a beautiful winter day after an intense storm, was the most refreshing spirit filled time of conversation in a long time.
I am having another conversation with a youth pastor who is asking how Calvin Crest can put our staff in the boys and girls areas during free time so that his youth group will not do any more pranks and are safe. They are the ones doing the pranks.
I got a call from a young woman who is looking for an opportunity to teach at CC this summer so that her resume will look good when she begins her search for being a teacher..
I am having conversations with people who have served on staff about their public foul language and excessive drinking as they inquire if they can be in leadership next summer.
A biweekly Bible Study that I lead where 2 out of 22 adults bring a Bible.
I just heard that a man that has been on my case for many years because I challenge the church, is a part of a group who is leading his church to leave the PCUSA.
I wonder about all the conversations, conferences, meetings, and other times together where we have talked about christian behavior but never bore fruit of the Spirit. We are very excited about attending meetings where we know some well known people of Christiandom will be the keynote. The ones who just put out the book on what is the latest movement in the church. It is sad if we think that the latest movement is happening and no one is seeing the fruit of the Spirit somewhere in the first few weeks of it.
If the fruit isn't there, I ain't following. If it involves looking into Ikea catalogs and not more into Scriptures, I can't do it again. The more that it is about technology and less about relationship and hope, it is through.
"Test everything, hold on to that which is good." How do you know if it is good, check for fruit. Not signs and wonders. Fruit.
But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control...
I have to ask myself, am I more concern about shopping or being?
I met one woman, who has been a christian for five years and in that time has been to communist Asia for an extended time to help equip the believers, share the truth of Jesus with her family and now they are followers of the Truth, is a Bible study small group leader at the university, is highly respected by her peers, is about to graduate and is asking if she can work at the camp. I am asking her not to come work for me but to continue her ministry at the place where I do mine. Partners in ministry. Isn't that what it is about? Sitting with her outside a Starbucks, on a beautiful winter day after an intense storm, was the most refreshing spirit filled time of conversation in a long time.
I am having another conversation with a youth pastor who is asking how Calvin Crest can put our staff in the boys and girls areas during free time so that his youth group will not do any more pranks and are safe. They are the ones doing the pranks.
I got a call from a young woman who is looking for an opportunity to teach at CC this summer so that her resume will look good when she begins her search for being a teacher..
I am having conversations with people who have served on staff about their public foul language and excessive drinking as they inquire if they can be in leadership next summer.
A biweekly Bible Study that I lead where 2 out of 22 adults bring a Bible.
I just heard that a man that has been on my case for many years because I challenge the church, is a part of a group who is leading his church to leave the PCUSA.
I wonder about all the conversations, conferences, meetings, and other times together where we have talked about christian behavior but never bore fruit of the Spirit. We are very excited about attending meetings where we know some well known people of Christiandom will be the keynote. The ones who just put out the book on what is the latest movement in the church. It is sad if we think that the latest movement is happening and no one is seeing the fruit of the Spirit somewhere in the first few weeks of it.
If the fruit isn't there, I ain't following. If it involves looking into Ikea catalogs and not more into Scriptures, I can't do it again. The more that it is about technology and less about relationship and hope, it is through.
"Test everything, hold on to that which is good." How do you know if it is good, check for fruit. Not signs and wonders. Fruit.
But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control...
I have to ask myself, am I more concern about shopping or being?
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