Introducing...the P4K All-Stars...

Tonight is Major League Baseball's All-Star Game.  Hosted by the New York Mets at Citi Field, the Midsummer Classic has long been a staple of my warm weather sports viewing.  Even as a child, I remember making plans around the game...and being sure to be near a television as the broadcast began.

For me the best part of the festivities has always been the player introductions.  All-Star players file on to each respective baseline, each in his team's uniform, awaiting the public address announcer's introduction.  As the camera pans systematically down the row, reserve players are introduced alphabetically by franchises.  When their names are called, the stars step off the baseline and wave to or salute the crowd.

It seems like a fairly silly thing but there is something regal about it which makes it must-see-TV for me.  I still get excited when players from "my" team(s) (American League -- Minnesota Twins; National League -- Milwaukee Brewers) are being introduced.

It is in light of that event and in the spirit of acknowledging all-stars, I submit this blog entry to you...

 As some of you know, I run an outreach ministry (P4K). 

As even more of you know, para-church ministries are largely dependent upon donations and outside supporters to continue their work.

***Don’t worry, this is NOT a plea for funds or supporters...please read on.***

P4K has been my “full-time job” since 1990.  We run a youth center, I do some speaking, freelance writing and art, counseling, personal training, etc.  When I received my very distinct call to ministry when I was a 6th grader, I knew I would be doing what I’m doing...and never, ever taking a paycheck for it.  I remember telling my advisor in college of my plans.  Without hesitation he quipped, “You’re either hearing from God or you’re crazy.”

I contend a little of both.  :)

In fact, when it comes to God's provision, you may not believe what we've experienced...

Most of the finances to run P4K come from my wife and I...and we’re okay with that.  God still supernaturally intervenes.  One month we were $222.16 short of our expenses.  I walked to the post office to mail out our bill payments knowing we did not have the money.  Praying the entire time, I dropped the payments in the mail and then went to our Post Office box.  In it were two letters.  One contained a check from a local benevolent organization for $200.  I was relieved thinking we were only short $22.16.  The other letter was from an elderly woman from our town whom I didn’t really even know.  In shaky penmanship there was a note saying she felt impressed to give us what she could...a check for $22.16!

So see, I’m not worried about money.

I’m not hocking my wares or offering you gold-plated replicas of the Youth Center or Holyland Olive wood carved trinkets.

In fact, I want to simply let you know about our donors.  We would never have to worry about All-Star Game-like introductions for them...partly because none of them would want the recognition but mostly because we wouldn't have enough to fill a baseline.

We have TWO.

Yes, that’s right...we have two regular donors to the ministry we do.  Monthly we bring in $50 from those two sources.

...but OH, what sources they are!

One is a man with brain tumors.  I first met him when he was in relatively good health and working as a computer technician for our internet service provider.  We struck up a friendship and he has been a blessing to us ever since.  While his terminal illnesses render him unable to work (and, at times, unable to talk or move), he still scrounges up $10 each month and sends it to me because he “...believe(s) God wants (me) doing what (I) do.”

IF for some reason he cannot find $10 to send (or if he is not able to physically get anything ready in the mail), we undoubtedly get either a call or email of apology.

Humbling.

The other supporter is a couple near retirement age.  Their family has endured tragedy, loss, persecution and drastic difficulties ever since we’ve known them.  Yet, monthly they send $40 and the most precious handwritten notes of encouragement.  We can always expect the envelope in the 2nd or 3rd of each month as it is faithfully mailed on the 1st.

...except this month.  Our envelope didn’t arrive until nearly the 10th!  And folded around the sacrificial gift of a check was a note which apologized for the delay.  The wife (who generally sends our mail) had a heart attack...and couldn’t get the letter out until after she was out of the hospital! 

That’s right...she was apologizing to me because she had a heart attack and couldn’t send me her gift.

Overwhelming.

I share this to reassure you...God knows what He’s doing.  We don’t have an army of financial supporters but we certainly have an all-star line-up of indomitable partners.  Faith over finances any day.

I am not worthy of any of these amazing people...but God is...and I am grateful he’s sharing them with us!

I ought to be ashamed of myself...

This past weekend I coached my city’s high school boys basketball team in a tournament near our state’s capitol.  While one may think the fact we went the entire competition without notching a single victory renders the two days rather unremarkable.  He would be wrong.

The weekend was quite remarkable.

Upon hearing about the dust-up I had with one parent following one of our losses, one may even think that was the only noteworthy occurrence of the weekend.  After our second game a father of one of my players confronted me in the doorway of the gym and told me I ought to be “...(expletive deleted) ashamed of (my)self as a coach and as a man...”  

He was upset because he didn’t think his child got enough playing time (truth be told, I believe he was mostly upset because someone else’s child got more).  He clearly and emphatically stated and restated (and then summarized and repeated again for good measure) his position and then walked away with his hands raised saying, “I don’t want to hear it...ashamed...you should be ashamed...” as I tried to converse with him.

But, as “noteworthy” as that may have seemed to some of the spectators nearby, it wasn’t the biggest take-away from the weekend, either.

I had a 90-minute drive home to replay the situation in my head.  Should I be ashamed of my coaching?  Should I be ashamed of myself as a man?  

The rest of the night I mulled his words and carefully examined myself, my performance, my motives, etc.  We haven’t been a very successful team this summer if we’re measuring by wins and losses.  Perhaps I am a shameful coach.  His son did play less than others.  Maybe I am a shameful man.

Funny thing is, I wasn’t ashamed -- not even in the slightest.

That night many of my players stayed in a hotel.  During the evening I received multiple text messages from the boys -- some of about the games, some just letting me know what they were doing, etc.  Some of the texts, though, were from the guys explaining how they had some interaction with players from other teams...and how those players were using all sorts of foul language and engaging in less-than-appropriate behaviors.  One text read:  “Sad. We just waved and walked by. Sad they feel they have to be that way.”

The next morning brought another loss...but, this time, it came with more player-to-player encouragement.  With several hours before our next game, many of the guys just sat together in the gym.  I never heard them offer a disparaging comment about any other players or even a cross word about the officials.  In fact, at one point (between games), an errant ball was heading directly toward my wife who was unaware.  One of the boys jumped from the bleachers and intercepted the ball, then took his seat again as if nothing had happened.

Ashamed?

Ashamed of what?

No.  No sir.  I am not ashamed of what we’re doing.  It may not be pleasing everyone and it may not be winning championships...but...it is putting down roots and encouraging a different way of thinking and acting.  The boys are “getting it” slowly but surely.  I will never be ashamed of that.

But, even that isn’t the most noteworthy part of the weekend.

The most noteworthy thing is I realized I have nothing to be ashamed of!

My life, although littered with accomplishments and recognition, is also been one of shame.  I am ashamed the youth center I run is as small as it is.  I am ashamed I am as heavy as I am.  I am ashamed I live in a run-down farmhouse.  I am ashamed I never became “somebody” in my chosen profession.  I am ashamed of the long list of things I am ashamed of!

Perhaps you can relate.

This weekend, though, opened my eyes to a whole new way of seeing.  Once I had someone TELL me I ought to be ashamed, I guess my human nature bristled at the notion and resisted.  Instead of embracing that criticism and scouring my life for reasons to be ashamed, I decided to look at reasons not to be.

• I was investing in worthwhile relationships.   

• I was modeling upright behavior. 

• I was demanding excellence of effort (not of outcome). 

• I was attempting to plant seeds of positive attitudes.

• I was giving of myself with no thought of getting anything in return. 

• I was understanding getting a “win” is sometimes not as important as growing the will.

By no means am I writing this in hopes of garnering any praise.  This is totally a self-revelation-type thing.  MAYbe the key for me beating a lifetime of early-onset shame is found in how I approached this weekend.

Maybe it can help you, too.

Take the bullet points above and check yourself.  I bet you’re already doing many of those things.  Even if you’re not, reexamine them...you’ll notice none of them are actually too difficult to do.

Perhaps you ought to be proud of yourself.

Lessons from Casey

One hundred twenty-five years ago today, the San Francisco Examiner published Ernest Thayer’s poem, “Casey At The Bat”

For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, you can find it in its entirety here.

Or, perhaps reading isn’t exactly your thing (for which case I am confounded that you’re checking out this post)...if that’s the case, may I interest you in James Earl Jones reciting the work here?

For those of you more inclined to watch a movie than read a book, allow me to offer you Disney’s rendition of the piece here...

Regardless of how you familiarize yourself with “Casey”, take a moment and do so now...I’ll wait...

...welcome back (you chose Disney, didn’t you?).

As someone who has long been deeply involved with sports, this poem is one with which I am closely acquainted...or at least I thought I was.

I remember the drama of it all and can recount Casey striking out.  I even recall taking heed to its message at various times in my athletic career.

But, it wasn’t until I reread it early this morning that I picked up on a lesson 125 years in the making...

...Casey only swung at ONE pitch!

Sure, he “went down swinging” but he didn’t swing three times.

The first pitch “wasn’t (his) style” and yet it still counted against him.

The second pitch he seemed to haughtily allow to pass by, certain he’d clobber the next offering.  When the umpire called it a strike as well, the mighty batter was down to his final chance...

...and he failed.

It never really occurred to me that Casey struck out mostly because he allowed himself to fall behind 0-2 in the count.  The great slugger allowed someone else to determine 2/3 of the fate of that at-bat and, ultimately, the game.  And, judging by Casey’s reactions, the umpire was probably correct.  But, even if he wasn’t, Casey was at the mercy of his assessments of the first two pitches.

Because there’s a good chance you may have picked up on this long ago, I won’t belabor the point...

In life, as in this poem, I wonder how many times I have failed because my approach was like Casey’s and I was waiting for an opportunity which was more “my style” (like the first pitch).  

Or, how many times have I blown opportunities for heroics and greatness because I allowed someone else to pass judgment on what I was doing (like the umpire on the second pitch)?

Whether driven by conceit or cowardice, failing to “swing” relegates me to only having the possibility to be a negative factor in the game’s final outcome. 

Of course we need to be discerning and not just flail wildly at anything coming our way.  But, in matters when the proverbial “game is on the line”, keeping the bat on our shoulders and allowing others to decide our fate with their judgment is fool-hearty.  What’s more, if the “pitch” is close and something with which we can connect, it is silly not to even attempt.

When Casey finally shattered the air with his single swing, he missed.  He lost. 

Today, more than ever before, I “get” Casey.  I can relate.  Perhaps you can, too.  I’ve had my fair share of swings-and-misses in life.  With each one, I feel like I’ve let myself and countless others down.  I often feel (real or imagined) the disdain of people who I thought were on my side. 

No joy, indeed.

Like Casey, though, if I’m honest with myself, my “failure” was probably more due to my not “swinging” than it was by my sole unsuccessful effort. 

I don’t know if I’ll be around to see “Casey” turn 126 (none of us do).  As a result, I’m going to endeavor to not allow my success or failure be left up to the judgment of others.  With each chance I get, I want to “swing” and see what happens...

Who knows, it may be something “mighty”.

Heaping helping of Texas Chile

I’ll admit it...I don’t really “get” Texas in some ways.

Everyone I have ever known who is from Texas (or has transplanted themselves there) has had a certain level of pride in the state.  Not only is everything bigger in Texas (so I hear) but Texas was once its own Republic/country.  From the sprawling ranches to the diverse metropolitans, the Lone Star state is equal parts confusion and intrigue to me.

In no way am I disparaging Texas.  I’m just admitting to not completely understanding it.

One happening in the Longhorn state, however, I do understand full-well.  It is something which ought to not only cause us to possibly chuckle and shake our heads in bemused amusement, but should be cause for pause, too.

The flag of Texas features a single star in a field of blue with a white and red stripe.  Again, if you know anyone from Texas, you’ve probably seen it -- on a license plate, piece of clothing, etc. 

The flag of the South American country, Chile also features a single star, a field of blue and a white and red stripe...only its blue is not as large as Texas’ (which goes without saying).

In 2010, Atascosa County (located just slightly south of San Antonio), printed and distributed instruction sheets along with mid-term election absentee ballots.  The information came proudly bearing the single star on a field of blue, the crisp white panel and the vibrant red one.  It was a perfect representation...of a country over 5,000 miles away from Texas!

That’s right...the officials of Atascosa County used Chile’s flag instead of Texas’!

I said I don’t necessarily understand Texas (or Texans) but I do understand this faux pas.  

It was a mistake...nothing sinister; not a covert attempt to switch allegiances, I know.  The flags look very similar.  It was an honest blunder.  However, it should also serve as a warning to us.

Someone (more likely many someones) in Atascosa County were not able to correctly identify the flag of Texas.  It undoubtedly flew above the courthouse and government buildings.  It was more than likely on their license plates.  Yet, no one was able to -- whether it be from ignorance, arrogance or dissonance -- distinguish the difference between Texas and Chile.

If we are not careful to fully determine who we are (what we stand for, believe in, hold as standards, will do, etc.) it becomes relatively simple to be misidentified, misrepresented, misunderstood, mistaken...and miserable.

I work with students.  Far too often I see them trying their hardest to match the design of others.  This results in lives which are much like Texas’ and Chile’s flags -- nearly indistinguishable.  

We must know who we are...to be able to quickly and clearly identify those things which make us exclusively us.  If we don’t, we are susceptible to confusion and compromise.

When we fail to distinguish ourselves from everyone else, we run the risk of making the same mistake Atascosa County did.  I need to know me so I can consistently and accurately show me.  

'LEXUS' get this straight...

When music icon, Paul McCartney was arranging his 2005 “US Tour”, he selected Lexus as its main sponsor.  An avid advocate for environmental stewardship, McCartney singled out Lexus because they made, “environmentally responsible” cars.

The 37 show tour proved to be quite lucrative for the Japanese-based company...so much so that in 2008 Lexus decided to give McCartney one of its LS600H cars -- a $150,000 gas/electric hybrid.

The auto maker decided to deliver the sedan directly to McCartney in his native England.  In order to do so, Lexus chartered a cargo plane to fly the vehicle from Japan to Great Britain.

The carbon emissions from that flight equalled 300 around-the-world trips with the LS600H.  In other words, the amount of pollution created by the car’s delivery could never possibly be negated by its environmentally-friendly hybrid technology.

How preposterous.  

The gesture was genuine.  The sentiment was solid.  The delivery, however, was discordant.  The logic and logistics did not match up.  Everything both parties were trying to represent was wrecked by how they went about the car’s conveyance.

I wonder how many times we end up doing the same thing. 

There are situations when I know I intend to convey a certain message but, because of how I go about things, I end up sending very different signals.  In much the same way, I fear there may be times in my life when what I say I believe may get contradicted by what I do.

Me delivery is just as important as my desire.  

Ephesians 4:15 tells me to, “...speak the truth in love...”  I must be careful to never use what I know to be Truth as a weapon.  How can I properly convey the message of a God who is Holy, loving and gracious if the way I’m delivering the message is anything but those things?

Similarly, how can I claim to be “spiritually responsible” and live my life in a way which contradicts what God really wants from me?

It made no sense for Lexus to be so irresponsible in its delivery of McCartney’s car.  In a very real way, it undermined the entire partnership and principles for which it stood.  Likewise it is just as preposterous for me to do anything which is contrary to the heart of what God really wants.

I’ll never be on a U.S. tour...and I’ll definitely never be able to have a Lexus delivered to you.  But, maybe this little reminder will be more valuable...to both of us:

Ephesians 4:3 We can be sure that we know God if we obey his commands. 4 Anyone who says, “I know God,” but does not obey God’s commands is a liar, and the truth is not in that person. 5 But if someone obeys God’s teaching, then in that person God’s love has truly reached its goal. This is how we can be sure we are living in God: 6 Whoever says that he lives in God must live as Jesus lived.

Sacrifice for Success -- UConn do it.

Last night the University of Connecticut (UConn) women’s basketball team dismantled Louisville to claim the National Championship.  In so doing, UConn head coach, Geno Auriemma tied legendary former Tennessee head coach Pat Summit for the most-ever titles with eight.  

The Huskies’ 33-point win (93-60) over the Cardinals -- the largest ever in a championship game -- was actually 2 points below their average margin of victory throughout the NCAA Tournament (35).  Anyone familiar with women’s basketball may read these things and not be surprised.  UConn is a perennial powerhouse.  Most people would just assume they were championship favorites all along.  But, this UConn team entered the Tournament without having won its conference (Big East)’s regular season title OR post-season tournament crown. 

In fact, Auriemma called this season the “worst coaching (he’s) ever done”.  

Must be nice...do the worst job ever and still cruise through the NCAA tournament to a record-tying eighth championship winning by 35 points per game.

In a post-game on-court interview with ESPN’s Holly Rowe, the Huskies’ head man explained his statement and its connection to the team’s success.

“At that point we were not championship-caliber. I didn’t really have the pulse of the team,” he said.  “More than that, we weren’t really willing to sacrifice for each other.”

Auriemma went on to explain how prior to the beginning of the NCAA tournament, his players, “...looked each other in the eye and decided just exactly what they were willing to ‘give up’ so we could turn this season around.”

With highly-sought-after recruits on his roster, Auriemma found his team filled with “stars” who each possessed more than the requisite skill set to be a successful player.  “We needed to decide, ‘I can do this or that...but is it necessary for us to win?’  Once we figured out what we could give up of our own, we went from being a ‘good’ team with ‘good’ players who played with each other to being a ‘great’ team with players who played for each other,” he explains.

When I heard that I immediately thought of all the “teams” I am (and have been) on -- family, marriage, church, business, community, ministry, friendships, etc.  

I wonder how many “championships” I have missed out on because I never did what Auriemma’s team did (or what Philippians 2:3,4 and Romans 12:3 says).  What personal feats deserve to be forfeited, not focused upon?  What rights can I relinquish in order to better position my “team(s)” for ultimate success?  Who must I look in the eye and for whom should I be willing to set myself aside?

I can’t argue with UConn’s results.  I also can’t argue with the fact that Jesus carried that same mindset:  

Philippians 2:7 But he gave up his place with God and made himself nothing.
    He was born as a man
    and became like a servant.

8 

And when he was living as a man,
    he humbled himself and was fully obedient to God,
    even when that caused his death—death on a cross.

 ...and HIS results were even more remarkable:  

9

So God raised him to the highest place.
    God made his name greater than every other name

10 

so that every knee will bow to the name of Jesus—
    everyone in heaven, on earth, and under the earth.

11 

And everyone will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord
    and bring glory to God the Father.

As well as I am able, I want to be willing to make the sacrifices which may not make me a star but may lead to success -- yours, mine, ours, HIS.

An Unexpected Masterpiece

One doesn’t need to be an art expert to recognize the painting above.  It is fairly familiar to many people who couldn’t distinguish its significant color and composition from crayons on construction paper. 

While most people just refer to the painting as “Whistler’s Mother”, the actual name of the 1871 masterpiece is Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1:  Portrait of the Artist’s Mother (I know, captivating title, huh?).

Interestingly enough, the piece should never have been painted.  Whistler (James McNeill Whistler, to be specific) never had any intention of creating a portrait of his mom.  Instead, he had hired a lively, beautiful teenaged girl named Maggie Graham to be his model for this Arrangement (so named because he also had an affinity for music and likened his creations to pieces of music).  Graham never showed up for work.  Irritated yet still inspired to paint, Whistler prevailed upon his widowed mother to sit in for her.

The resulting work easily became Whistler’s most iconic and easily identifiable creation.  While he was a well-decorated artist, the mention of his name quickly conjures up the black and grey image of his mother sitting ever so stoically.

This story fascinates me.

...it also challenges me.

Whistler was ready to paint.

Graham was his chosen subject/model.

Yet, Whistler did not let her failure to show up frustrate his desire to create.  Never one to waste inspiration, he used what he had.  Because he did not let Graham’s absence become an excuse to not paint, the world has one of its great masterpieces.

There are times I feel like Whistler.  I have a deep desire to “do” certain things.  In my mind, the plans I envision executing are grand and glorious.  There are moments when I feel poised to truly create a masterpiece.  But, then something always seems to fall apart or go contrary to my schemes and dreams.

Recently I visited a facility which is very similar to what I’ve always dreamed of having.  It had a full court gym, a workout area, a lounge area, state-of-the-art equipment, etc.  This has always been a part of what I have wanted to be able to offer the students and families I try to reach.  This sort of a place is my “Maggie Graham” -- the model I’ve always hoped to present to the world.  

While the place was definitely nice, it was not mine.  Instead, I have a basement youth center, a warehouse workout facility and a barn basketball court.  None of what I have is ideal.  I work with leaky roofs, thrift store equipment and a subterranean gathering place.

When I consider “Whistler’s Mother”, I am humbled.

Use what you have.

The “art” was not in Maggie Graham or a widowed mother...the ART was in Whistler.  His desire and gift to create is what mattered. 

The correlation (and challenge) for me is obvious.  I need to use my God-given drive, discipline and duties to compose the most beautiful masterpiece I can.  I cannot wait for what I believe would be the perfect model.  I cannot delay hoping for better situations.  I need to simply put whatever brush I have to whatever canvas I have and do what I can.

The world may never see it...but I intend to use what I have to create a masterpiece.

What about you?

In February of 1962, two bands auditioned for a recording contract for London’s Decca Records.

Both upstart bands had been experiencing modest success and small scale popularity in the United Kingdom.  Both groups had an oddly similar sound and look.

Brian Poole and the Tremeloes were a London-based band while their competition, The Beatles, were based in Liverpool, more than 200 miles from the British capital.

After having both bands record audition albums at Decca’s studios, the label’s leadership decided to sign the Tremeloes...not the Beatles.

The decision was based mainly on convenience.  Having the Tremeloes in London made them much more accessible for Decca.  The thought of having to have the Beatles travel the nearly four hours to London for any potential recording, performing or other appearances was logistically laborious.  

While the Tremeloes turned out to be a moderately successful group (reaching #1 on the UK charts twice [Do You Love Me and Silence Is Golden] and climbing as high as #11 in the US [Silence], they obviously never approached the level of popularity or success of the Beatles.

Excellence, it seems, is never a matter of convenience.  

All In For #5

I’ve been silent in the blogosphere for a week.  I’m not entirely sure if anyone really noticed...but leading off with that admission seemed to be necessary.  

Anyone who knows me -- or has seen my blog, my social media, my vehicle, my office, my home or my wardrobe -- knows I am a fan of Duke basketball.  Seeing them thoroughly trounced by Louisville on Sunday in the Regional Final certainly didn’t leave me overjoyed.

Chances are nearly everyone who may bother to read this post has seen the horrific injury Louisville’s Kevin Ware suffered.  Having his leg literally snap right in front of his teammates on the bench left some players gasping for air and wiping tears from their eyes while others (according to sideline reports) were throwing up from the sheer gruesomeness of the fracture.

While there has been much written and reported about the incident, one thing was certain to me -- Duke had NO chance from that point on.  Even though the play actually resulted in a Tyler Thornton three-pointer which tied the game, the site of a fallen teammate and the sound of his screams followed by his impassioned pleas for the Cardinals to, “just get the win”, was enough to convince me Louisville would advance to the Final Four (and most likely the championship).

Adidas even recently created special warm-ups for the team to wear at this weekend’s Final Four in Atlanta:

It just makes sense.  

Even people I’ve spoken to this week who have no athletic background whatsoever seem to “get” what is happening with Louisville.  Rallying around a teammate, working hard to fulfill his wishes, unifying in his honor -- are all things even non-sports fans understand.

Ironically, I have had several conversations with people this week about what I do and why I do it.  These well-meaning people genuinely cannot understand how I can devote my days to the “job” I have -- trying to do anything I can to serve, love, encourage and elevate others.

To me it is exactly the same thing.  

The drive of the Louisville players to “win” for Ware is rooted in the fact that they’ve struggled, suffered, succeeded and stretched themselves together.  Every weight lifted, line drill run, film session endured bonded them together.

For me, the connection to Jesus is much the same -- good and bad, hope-filled and hopeless, joy and sorrow --  He has experienced and endured it all (on His own AND together with me).  

Ware’s compound fracture was indeed traumatic and brutal.  He will forever wear its scars.  His teammates will never forget the image of it, either.  It is nothing, however, when compared to the suffering Jesus endured which we remembered just last week (and each time we take communion).   

My life of faith is no big deal.  It is just me rallying on behalf of Jesus.  If Louisville is motivated to win a championship because of Ware, how much more should I be driven to fulfill Jesus’ wishes?

“All in for #5” isn’t a hard concept for the general public to grasp.  

Why should:

“Everything you do or say should be done to obey Jesus your Lord.

And in all you do, give thanks to God the Father through Jesus...

In all the work you are doing, work the best you can. 

Work as if you were doing it for the Lord, not for people.”

Col 3:17, 23

be?

I want to bring honor to Christ, to fulfill his wishes...and to win for (and with) Him.  I’m not a zealot.  I don’t possess an extra dose of faith.  I just want to be a Champion.  He deserves that from me.

Good for us, Bad for Him Friday

Insight and inspiration can come from unexpected sources.  When they do, chances are  it is worth paying attention to for it was probably deposited there by God for us to find.

Last weekend I had conversation with a sixth-grade boy which put life into a proper, purposeful and poignant perspective.

***As an aside, I must admit I love working with middle school boys.  

For some people, this subspecies is to be avoided at all costs.  

With their personal hygiene issues, bodily function affections and 

other unclassifiable oddities, middle-school-aged guys are often viewed as 

off-putting and awkward.  For me, though, the obvious juxtaposition of 

childhood and “adulthood” makes their minds fertile soil in which 
to sow (which is impossible to do without stepping into a 

poop joke from time to time).  They’re real.  They’re ready to challenge 

and be challenged.  They are often wide-eyed and rarely short-sighted.***

One of our walls at the Youth Center we run featured a posted reminder of how we are closed on Good Friday.  As I was manning the video game counter, Andrew came up to me and said, “So...you’re closed on Friday, huh?”

I turned, looked squarely at the reminder, gestured toward it and then returned my gaze to the bespectacled eleven-year-old.  “Yep...pretty sure...” I replied, knowing full-well he didn’t come to the counter to inquire about our hours.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked. 

“Nope,” he quipped and picked up a game list pretending to pour over it.  After just a few seconds he looked up at me without moving his head.  “Well, I have a question...” he said.

“I hope I have an answer,” I retorted.  “What is it?”

Why do they call it “Good Friday”? he queried.

...and this is part of what I love about my “job” -- right there, during a weekend evening full of game playing and junk food eating, amidst dozens of his contemporaries, I was being invited to talk about Jesus.

“Well, because that’s the day we recognize Jesus’ crucifixion.  He had to die to pay for our sins so we could be right with God -- ”

Sensing I was about to possibly break into preacher mode, Andrew interrupted.  “Oh, yeah, I know that,” he said.  “But, how can that be ‘good’ for Him?!”

I chuckled.  Quite astute.  But, before I could speak up to clarify, Andrew added, “Maybe we should call it ‘Good for us, Bad for Him Friday’!”  It was obvious he was quite proud of his assessment.  

Good for us, bad for Him.
How true.  Sometimes I wonder if we truly understand just how “bad” it was.  Strips of flesh just hanging from a battered frame, bleeding blotches where a beard had been plucked out by hand, so badly beaten Scriptures record He was hardly recognizable as a human being.

“Bad” doesn’t even begin to describe the anguish and the agony.  

Once again, before I could start to share the wisdom of my life of ministry and faith, my pre-pubescent counterpart chimed in: 

“He meant to do it, though.”

He meant to do it, though.  Again...wow.  YES...yes He did!  What a powerful proclamation.  Andrew cut through all the theology, brutality, and historicity of Jesus‘ sacrifice and made it impossible not to take it personally.  What an amazing thing to truly consider -- Jesus MEANT to do it.  The humiliation and hurt, the pain and public shame of Good Friday was all on-purpose.

...and WE were the purpose.

Our conversation continued and, in true middle school boy fashion, we talked about a variety of peripheral topics (weapons, blood, the jeers of the crowd, etc.)...until we touched on the idea of Jesus‘ disciples.  A panged look appeared on Andrew’s usually chipper face.

“Boy, how sad must they have been?”  he asked.

I was about to answer and he (again...and thankfully) cut me off to say, “I guess when you’re sad, you wait for Jesus to show up so you can be happy.”

WOW.

...when you’re sad, you wait for Jesus to show up so you can be happy.

I’ve been in full-time ministry for more than two decades.  I’ve preached thousands of sermons and spent countless hours in Bible study and teaching.  But in all my experience and training I have never been so smacked in the spiritual face with the power and simplicity of Christ as I was right then.  What a magnificent breakdown of one of history’s most seminal moments.

There is no way I can improve upon Andrew’s Good Friday message...I can only relay it to you:

• Good for us, bad for Him.

• He meant to do it, though.

• When you’re sad, you wait for Jesus to show up so you can be happy.

Nevertheless

I love words.

Although the English language is confusing and, at times, frustratingly backwards in some of its rules, I still believe words can be powerful and pretty, compelling and comforting, energizing and entertaining.

I also love it when words seem to be misspelled or improperly used...only to find out they’re not.

I recall early on in my writing career (and yes, I have actually had a “career” writing), going out of my way to find reason to use words like:

• albeit

• notwithstanding

• nevertheless

They were just cool to me -- a smash-up of other words making another word which wasn’t merely a remix but was its own entity.  

Today is Maundy Thursday on the Christian calendar.  I understand that may not mean much to those of you who read this blog and don’t hold a Christian faith.  I also understand our “celebrating” this Holy Week in the spring like we do does not indicate the time of year in which the actual events we recognize took place. 

Those facts notwithstanding, today is a day when I turn my attention to the events of the “Last Supper” and Jesus praying in the garden of Gethsemane (and his subsequent betrayal, etc.).  

This is an important time for me personally.  To pause and examine what Jesus willingly endured (and conquered) on my behalf is vital for maintaining proper perspective in my life.  It also pulls me closer to the heart of God and farther from the trappings of man.

The retelling of the entire story, albeit important, is not essential for my point today.  Instead, I ‘d like us to focus on Jesus’ prayer.

It is impossible for me to fully imagine the inner conflict Jesus must have felt.   Knowing what was ahead of Him just had to shake the “fully man” part of him indescribably.  We see a glimpse of this in Matthew 26

 Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me.”

The next verse illustrates the reality of the situation:

He went a little farther and fell on His face, and prayed, saying, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.”

This was not a simple, joyous culmination of a mission for Jesus.  This was excruciating.    In fact, it was so difficult, so brutal, He asked if there was possibly another way for salvation to be purchased and provided.

But then He uttered a powerful word:

nevertheless

Obviously, the words found in the New King James translation weren’t exactly the ones He used.  Nevertheless, the sentiment is clearly communicated...and ought to be clearly considered, too.

Jesus was being real with the Father.  He laid it out for Him.  He said, “I’d really rather not have to do this...”

Then came the nevertheless...

Thank God for the nevertheless.  

At its root, nevertheless means:  “Everything I said before the ‘nevertheless’ is something I wanted you to hear...and everything after it is what we need to do.”

Jesus didn’t hide His feelings during His prayer.  In the same sense, once He expressed them, he willingly embraced the Father’s wisdom and direction.

I once preached at a church and talked about “getting real” with God.  I mentioned that it is okay to tell Him how you truly feel about something...or what your true desires are -- even if they’re not exactly in-line with what HE wants. 

The Pastor chastised me and never invited me back.  He insisted ours was never a place to complain or be contrary -- especially not in prayer.

That made me sad -- not for my “career”, but for Truth.

Jesus didn’t hold back while He prayed in Gethsemane.  He told the Father what He thought...but he followed it up with nevertheless.

What an amazing word, nevertheless...especially when used in this sort of context.  

“God, here is my way of seeing things...here is what *I* would like to have happen...here is my idea, etc...nevertheless, let’s do it YOUR way.”

That’s the type of faith I want and the kind of prayers I want to pray. 

I want to be real and raw with God. 

I want to lay myself open and bare with him -- totally uncensored and unfiltered.

Then, I want the type of faith and focus that Jesus showed when he said nevertheless.