Seven words in a sermon. . .

Sunday, one of my college professors, George Brown, preached at South. George is one of my favorite writers - a real word smith.

His sermon title was, "The Cost of Confession." He explored Peter's confession of Christ as Messiah in Mark 8. George told us, "Death is a choice of style. We cannot choose if we will die, but we can choose how." "Why would anyone choose to follow the bloody path which He marked out with his own death," George asked, "except that He is the Christ?"

That's not all George said. I kidded with him after the service. He used seven words that I have never before heard in a sermon. Here they are, along with their definitions (for those of you who attended DeKalb High School - you know who you are):

1. dissuaded - past tense, to turn from something by persuasion.
2. inculcate - to teach and impress by frequent repetition or admonitions.
3. untenable - not able to be defended or occupied.
4. paradox - a statement that is seemingly contradictory or opposed or opposed to common sense and yet is perhaps true.
5. ignoble - of low birth or common origin; characterized by baseness, lowness, or meanness.
6. heinous - hatefully or shockingly evil.
7. neoplatonic - the philosphy which conceives of the world as an emanation from an ultimate indivisible being with whom the soul is capable of being reunited.

Of course, George uses thse words like I use "the" and "if." They roll of his tongue with an ease that gives testimony to - not only his learning - but to his authenticity.

Afterward I began thinking about other words that I don't hear much in sermons. Words like "holiness," and "sin." It has been a while since I head the word "hell" in a sermon. When was the last time you heard the word "gluttony" in a sermon? Or the word "pornography"?

Chances are, there are a lot more words that I could and should be using in my sermons. Of course Dave Stone writes, "I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day." Those of us who live and die behind the "sacred desk" each Sunday are challenged to do both. To speak the right words and to live them.

Frankly speaking, that is one tall order.

Battling boxes

Spent the day unpacking the forty plus boxes in my new office at South Lansing Christian Church.

I had no idea how many books or how much stuff I have. Whew! It is a lot. Later this afternoon the folks from DISH network came by to install our DISH system. I was really geeked about it because the Cubs are on tonight at 7 P.M. They're only 1/2 game out of first place, and I was all primed to watch 'em win. Alas! The DISH guys need to call "Miss Dig" to get permission to drive the post into the ground. Lame! No Cubs.

So, I'm sitting at a Beaner's Gourmet Coffee cafe checking the line on the game and blogging on my new MacBook Pro. Very cool.

An evening at the Lickety Split

We're moved into our new home in our new hometown, Grand Ledge, Michigan. It seems like a nice place, so far.

Last night my sons and I rode our bikes to the Lickety Split for an ice cream cone. Grand Ledge is the sort of place where residents argue - good naturedly - about their ice cream. There are two summer stands where folks can buy frozen treats: the Lickety Split and the Corner Cone. Grand Ledgeians (is that the right word?) seem divided over which is best.

We enjoyed our cones from "the split." The only reasonable thing we can do now, though, is to stop by the corner cone and decide for ourselves.

Born again . . .

It's a simple act, really. Plunged beneath the waves, sins are washed away. The Holy Spirit comes to reside within. The promise of eternal life is secured.

It is simple, but it never fails to fill me with awe and reverence. At the conclusion of camp last week, I was privileged to baptize Brianna Mausteller.

She who is young enough to be my daughter has now become my sister.

A Tough Day

I preached my most difficult sermon ever at Butler Church of Christ this morning - my last. After ten incredible years, our family is answering God's call to move to Lansing, Michigan.

The church held a potluck today in our honor. It was really great as so many BCC'ers offered kind words. There were many tears. We shared lots of hugs and handshakes.

I'm really going to miss Butler Church of Christ. The faithful here have worked their way into my heart. As I prayed this morning, I leave with a "Butler Church of Christ shaped hole in my heart."

While that void will eventually be filled, only BCC is the perfect fit. I am excited to move on to what God has planned for us at South Lansing Christian Church. Nevertheless, I leave with bittersweet feelings. While leaving is hard, I know that God has greater things planned for both me and for BCC. I can't wait to see what they are.

Out at old Lake James

I'm investing a week at Lake James Christian Assembly, working with 8th and 9th grade students. This is my last week as the minister of Butler Church of Christ. It somehow seems appropriate that I spend it here, one of the first places where I learned to love Jesus and was exposed to the idea that I, one day, might be involved in vocational Christian service.

Now that I'm headed to Rock Lake country, I'm growing more and more nostalgic. This is a great camp!

Martha's popcorn

Mrs. Frankly and I stopped in at Martha's popcorn stand last night for some caramel corn and a visit with Jack Randinelli. Martha's is an icon.

In 1940, Martha went to visit Jack's grandfather. She had recently lost her job at the Auburn Motor Company and decided to open a popcorn stand. A loan officer at the Savings and Loan, Mr. Randinelli, Martha hoped, would loan her enough to go into business. At the time, the S&L only made loans on real estate. Although the bank couldn't help her, Mr. Randinelli made her a personal loan and a tradition was begun.

Several years ago, as Martha's health began to fade, so did the fortunes of her popcorn stand. It looked, in fact, like the tradition might be lost. Enter Jack Randinelli, the grandson of Martha's original benefactor. Jack bought the popcorn stand, and his wife and daughter continue to operate it today.

On Wednesdays and Thursdays, you can buy a dollar bag of hot popcorn in either butter flavor or caramel until 9 P.M. But come early. As we sat and visited with Jack last night, I'll bet there were at least a half dozen folks who were disappointed to find they arrived after closing time. (On the weekend, the shop stays open until 11 P.M.)

With the recent exhibition of Sculptures on the Square, Martha's has become an even better family destination. For only $5, you can grab the family pack - four bags of popcorn and four cans of soda pop. You won't find a better deal anywhere in DeKalb County. Stop in on west 9th street next to The Evening Star building and get your popcorn fix.

(Check out Chad Gramling's and some other guy's memories of Martha's.)

Brothers of another mother?

Matt stopped in on the Frankly Speaking porch last night for a visit. I didn't catch his last name.

Reading his bio reminded me of an event over twenty years past. It was the summer before my senior year at Garrett High School. I drove to Ft. Wayne and took the ACT exam. I had one of those out-of-body-in-the-zone type of testing days. It is the best I ever did on any test. I scored a 32 out of 35, which is one of the highest ACT scores I've ever heard of. (Before you get too excited about my intellect, realize I pretty much tanked the SAT.)

Anyway, with such a high test score, I got an offer for a full ride scholarship at a school in Tennessee - some place called David Lipscomb University. I was a Church of Christ boy (and still am), and they were a church of Christ school, so I thought, "let's check 'em out." But like any good Church of Christ boy, I asked a couple respected elders in our church about the college. One elder I esteemed considerably (he has since gone on to be with the Lord) told me, "They're not one of our schools. Steer clear." So I did.

Turns out they are one of our schools, they just don't have pianos.

No regrets, though. My Alma mater Great Lakes Christian College was a fine place to learn ministry. It is also where I met my wife, some of my best friends, and will be within a few miles of our new home when we move to Michigan next month.

So all's well that ends well.

Oh, and Matt. Next time I'll come to your place.

Last library board meeting

Tonight was my last library board meeting as President of Butler Public Library. The board and staff prepared a nice meal in my honor and presented me with a lovely plaque. I have been privileged to serve with some incredible staff and board members. I will miss each one.

Pray for rain . . .

Our area of Indiana is as dry as I can ever remember it. My lawn is dead. My flowers are parched, despite daily watering. Our farmers are beyond nervousness. One I spoke to on Sunday told me that he estimates his yield is already 25% lower than it should be. Without rain, that number will quickly climb.

I was reading Psalm 65 the other day, and I thought perhaps we ought to pray that Psalm for our community. Here it is:

What mighty praise, O God, belongs to you in Zion. We will fulfill our vows to you, for you answer our prayers, and to you all people will come. Though our hearts are filled with sins, you forgive them all. What joy for those you choose to bring near, those who live in your holy courts. What joys await us inside your holy Temple. You faithfully answer our prayers with awesome deeds, O God our savior. You are the hope of everyone on earth, even those who sail on distant seas. You formed the mountains by your power and armed yourself with mighty strength. You quieted the raging oceans with their pounding waves and silenced the shouting of the nations. Those who live at the ends of the earth stand in awe of your wonders. From where the sun rises to where it sets, you inspire shouts of joy. You take care of the earth and water it, making it rich and fertile. The rivers of God will not run dry; they provide a bountiful harvest of grain, for you have ordered it so. You drench the plowed ground with rain, melting the clods and leveling the ridges. You soften the earth with showers and bless its abundant crops. You crown the year with a bountiful harvest; even the hard pathways overflow with abundance. The wilderness becomes a lush pasture, and the hillsides blossom with joy. The meadows are clothed with flocks of sheep, and the valleys are carpeted with grain. They all shout and sing for joy!

Let's pray for rain. And, when it comes, let's remember to thank the maker of the rain.

Zoo day

Grandpa Frankly took the family to the Ft. Wayne Children's Zoo last week. If you've never been to this premier zoo, you're missing out. It is one of the finest in the Midwest. They recently tore out their African Veldt and are completely retrofitting their African habitat. Part of the redo is a great cable car ride that spans the lot where the new display will be located when it is complete.

I was surprised, in spite of all the construction to see a bobcat in its native environment. Check it out:

My favorite exhibit of the day, however, are the three monkeys I snapped in this pic:

A good day . . .

Today was a great day. We started off with a dynamite worship service this morning. The worship team selected some of my favorite songs that really complimented my sermon. Sunday service was followed by Sunday lunch with Abby's friend Michelle and her family.

The piece de resistance was a night on the lake with our small group. We grilled out a pork loin and a big old slab of beef. Just hanging out with our small group was really good.

Nicer boomers, Butler!

The Frankly family enjoyed watching Butler's Heartland Festival fireworks display earlier tonight. It was, once again, a fantastic display.

Way to go Butler! We're sure going to miss it. . .

Closed!

The Wellers are homeowners . . . times two! Our closing went according to plan on Friday, so our new home belongs to us (and the bank!). Thanks to all who prayed that it would go smoothly.

Now we need to sell our current castle! If you're looking for a great old home in Butler, Indiana, check out this beauty! She has great maple trim, a new kitchen with custom maple cabinets, a double lot that is fenced and beautifully landscaped. The basement is guaranteed dry, and there are a number of great updates including some new carpet and lots of new paint (thanks to my brother-in-law Marty).

Call Alan at 260-337-0337 to schedule a showing! End of commercial. Thanks for indulging me . . .

Just a thought . . .

This week's issue of Christian Standard raises some interesting questions about the blending of patriotism and faith - questions that I asked myself during church last Sunday.

Each year our congregation turns the auditorium red, white, and blue for the month of July. While I absolutely love the decorations our worship folks create the rest of the year, I must admit that I am uncomfortable with this month's patriotic motif.

Why? Simply, because God is not an American. When the church comes together to worship on Sunday our sole focus should be on God and on him alone. While it is certain that God has blessed America, it is less clear that we, as Americans, have blessed Him.

This was especially keen in my thinking this past Sunday. My missionary sister was in the congregation and I couldn't help wonder if she saw the juxtaposition of old glory and "glory to God" as a bit anachronistic. I wondered: "Do they have Guinean flag backgrounds in Guinea?" When my sis lived in France was there a blending of French patriotism and Father-worship? Or what about her Venezuelan friends. Do they as easily blend faith and national fervor?

I love our country. I get teary-eyed when I watch our soldiers marching on the battlefield. I don't for a second take for granted the sacrifice of so many who have made our freedom a reality.

I know I am not alone in these feelings. Britons, no doubt, get a lump in their throat when they reflect on Dunkirk. Still, I can't imagine they use the Union Jack as the background for their worship choruses. If they did, frankly, I would be more than a little offended by them so doing.

I wonder, are they offended by my flag-waving worship?

Happy Independence Day!

A happy 4th to each of you, Frankly Speaking readers.

The Frankly family is enjoying beautiful Jordan Lake and shooting off a boatload of Indiana fireworks to celebrate our nation's independence. Hopefully your family is enjoying one another, too!

Local love-struck legend. . .

Last night my friend, Kim, told me a story that is making its way around the town of Hamilton. It seems there is a certain bachelor farmer who took a liking to the waitress at the nearby watering hole. The farmer himself is a bit of a local legend. He has three seasons: planting, drinking, and harvesting. When he's not on a tractor seat, he's on a bar stool.

Anyway, this little waitress of his apparently had only one flaw to mar her natural beauty: she lacked teeth. (She might have had more but, as I understand it, gals become more pristine with each subsequent beverage.) This farmer courted the gal and, when they finally became an item, bought her a brand new set of choppers.

Fast forward. The farmer and the waitress had a falling out and broke up. When the farmer left her, and here is the really legendary part of the story, he took her teeth with him!!!

If this were the end of the tale, it would be tall enough. But apparently the lovesick couple has begun dating again. Kim tells me that the farmer has returned her teeth but, unsure if the relationship will endure, he has only given her the top set!

Wow. . .

A lesson from Eddie

Several years ago our friends Mike and Shelly treated us to an evening at Eddie Merlot's. If you've never been to this incredible eatery, you would be amazed. It is p-o-s-h! For us, it was a once-in-a-decade experience where the incredible food was eclipsed only by the company of our companions.

In particular, what stood out to me was the attentiveness of the wait staff. A wait person stood sentry at one end of the dining room at all times. A mere glance from one of our party brought him table side. Eye contact was all that was required, and he immediately swung into action.

Why the talk of Eddie Merlot's? Something I read today made me think of that experience. The psalmist who penned Psalm 123 wrote:

I lift my eyes to you, O God, enthroned in heaven. We look to the LORD our God for his mercy, just as servants keep their eyes on their master, as a slave girl watches her mistress for the slightest signal. Have mercy on us, LORD, have mercy, for we have had our fill of contempt. We have had our fill of the scoffing of the proud and the contempt of the arrogant.

Reading Psalm 123 made me wonder, am I as attentive to the Father as my Eddie Merlot's waiter was to me?

Tracy is home . . .

Mrs. Frankly is back home after a rough week. She had surgery on Tuesday. She came home on Wednesday. She was home only one hour when she passed out and had to be returned to the hospital via ambulance.

She was bleeding internally and had to have another surgery on Wednesday night / Thursday morning. They found the "bleeder" and were able to get it stopped. She came home today. Nothing like a little stress on top of stress to raise the blood pressure.

Thanks for praying for Tracy and for me. We're grateful.

Victimology

I'm reading Thomas Friedman's award winning book, From Jerusalem to Beirut. I was interested to read what he had to say about the victim mentality. Speaking of Menachim Begin's willingness to violently confront the PLO, Friedman wrote: "Someone who sees himself as a victim will almost never morally evaluate himself or put limits on his own actions. Why should he? He is the victim."

That made me think of something my friend Lee Bracey, Executive Director of Woodburn Christian Children's Home often says: "We're not raising victims, we're raising overcomers." I'm glad Lee and WCCH are raising overcomers. Maybe that is why their kids more often break the "victim cycle" from which they come.

Grieving goodbyes

Earlier tonight my two oldest children were upset and crying because they had a bad encounter with one of their friends. Usually chatty and interacting, their friend blew them off at a party. They wondered, "is he mad at us for moving?"

That got me to thinking about the five stages of grief. I wonder, do they apply to saying goodbye to people you love?

1. Denial - They're not really moving away. They can't be.
2. Anger - Why are they leaving? Where's their loyalty? Doesn't our friendship mean anything to them?
3. Guilt - I wish we had spent more time together. If only I would have ______________.
4. Genuine grief - In essence, a good cry.
5. Resolution - I accept that the "status is no longer quo" and joyfully move on with life.

Tonight I tried to explain to Abby and Caleb that, when people say goodbye, they grieve the loss of that friendship. As they do, they go through various emotions like those listed above. They're not bad people, they're just hurting.

The time will come when all that remains is the joy of a lifelong friendship. I believe that. I hope my kids do, too.

Till my trophies at last I lay down . . .

Mrs. Frankly and I have spent the week getting ready for and now having a massive yard sale. We've been dragging . . . stuff . . . out of every nook and cranny of the Weller home. I had no idea how much . . . stuff . . . I had.

Tonight, as I was toting boxes out of the attic, I ran across a banana box filled with my old 4-H trophies. I've carted them from Indiana to Michigan and back to Indiana. We've been married twenty years, and this next move will be our twelfth (that's for you Scott and Sam). I've carried that same box each and every time.

I'm wondering . . . perhaps it's time I left the pig trophies behind. Or, should I lug them to Lansing once again? What say you faithful readers?

Our new castle

They say that a man's home is his castle. It looks as though our new chateau will be the home located at 201 Queen's Court in Grand Ledge, MI.

As most Frankly Speaking readers know, I have accepted the position of Senior Minister at South Lansing Christian Church in Lansing, Michigan. Consequently, we have been house searching for the past three weeks. We sifted through over a hundred listings in four school districts. We went through more than thirty homes. We finally settled on this beauty. Our counter-offer was accepted Tuesday, and our financing was preapproved Wednesday, so it looks like we're all set.

It is easy to find (click here for the map), so we expect all our friends to come and visit. There is plenty of room, and the A&W is right across the street so we can enjoy a visit over a root beer float.

Please be praying that our home in Butler will sell quickly (we plan to list it on Monday), and that our closing in Grand Ledge will go off without a hitch. Then pray for the transition as we sell some of our stuff, pack the rest, and tote it 90 minutes north.

Ninety-eight percent

The vote was cast Sunday morning at South Lansing Christian Church. 98% of the assembled congregation voted to call me as their new Senior Minister. I am overwhelmed and humbled by the confidence placed in me. Better put, I am pleased that South puts so much trust in the leadership of their church. It is a testament to the elders and the search committee that so many voted to approve their unanimous recommendation for my candidacy.

Tracy and I will be formally announcing our decision to leave our Butler Church of Christ family this coming Sunday. It will be a hard day for us - one that is bitter and sweet.

We dearly love the brothers and sisters at Butler. But when God calls, you either go and experience the wonderful things He has in store for you, or you ignore Him and risk losing His blessing on your life. We're going to go.

Bringin' home the bacon . . .

My friends Todd and Pat Imhoff just opened their new store, IQ Meats. We stopped in last week and bought some bacon and steaks to take with us to the lake. Gooooood eatin! Their grand opening is this Saturday. I plan to stop in and pick up some meat for my annual Father's Day carnivore spectacular.

My advice to Frankly Speaking readers: do the same!

Finally . . .

It's nice to see Bill Gates finally get his college degree from Harvard. He and that other college-dropout-loser Steve Jobs have done okay. I guess.

No small potatoes

Our Joshua's Men group is reading Point Man by Steve Farrar. Farrar quotes Donald McCullough in his book:

"We think we know what will secure greater happiness - marriage or divorce, a higher salary or professional recognition, steamier sex or deeper intimacy, a new faith or better spiritual experiences - the list is as long as humans are ingenious in imagining greener grass on the far side of the fence. But we don't realize how hungry we really are. Small potatoes won't satisfy. We need a banquet table that only God can spread."

Heading North to South

Earlier today the elders of Butler Church of Christ announced to our congregation that I will be preaching a "trial" sermon at South Lansing Christian Church next Sunday, June 10. For some, this came as quite a shock. Others began hearing whispers in the last few weeks, and our elders wanted to end any speculation that might distract from our church's mission. While we'll have to wait a week to learn if, in fact, I am called to South, the events of today compelled me to share some thoughts about this anticipated transition.

The decision to leave Butler might seem sudden, but it has been anything but.

Tracy and I began talking about 2007 late last year. For us, it promised to be a noteworthy year. In February we celebrated our tenth anniversary at Butler Church of Christ. Just last week both Tracy and I turned forty. In August we will commemorate twenty years of marriage. With all our "anums in alignment," Tracy and I began to pray about God's direction for our ministry. Was it his desire for us to remain at BCC? Or was it time for us to move on and begin a new chapter of our service to God's Kingdom?

In addition to praying we sought counsel from people we trust and admire. We asked them to pray. We listened.

Then, in late February, South's Associate Minister, Wally Lowman, called to ask if I was interested in discussing the Senior Ministry position at their church. Frankly, I was stunned. When I was an associate minister, I would average a phone call from another church about once every other month. But it had been ten years since another church seriously "courted" me.

Tracy and I prayed and talked, and decided to put Wally off until we completed our long anticipated mission trip to Haiti. While in Haiti, we continued to pray, and when we returned I phoned Wally. He asked how our trip went. After giving "Lowman the lowdown," he said something I later relayed to Tracy: "We have a group go to Northwest Haiti Christian Mission every year." For me, that was confirmation number one that maybe God was doing something. When I mentioned Wally's comment to Tracy she said, "Oh, don't tell me that!" She can recognize God's hand at work too, and she wasn't quite ready to call U-Haul.

Another confirmation came when Wally asked me if I was familiar with a discipleship process their leadership was working to implement. It is taken from a Thom Rainer book titled Simple Church. I nearly dropped the receiver. For the past several weeks I had been leading our church staff through a discussion of that book. At that point, we were already working to redefine our ministries in "Simple Church" concepts. Confirmation number two.

I agreed to meet with the search committee. Actually, finding a date when we could all connect was tough, but when we did, I was really blessed by our time together. They asked some tough questions. I asked some tough questions, too. We discussed South's mission, and I discovered that it is nearly identical to the mission I've been promoting at BCC for the last four years. By the end of the meeting I found myself making a subtle mental shift from, "God, are you doing something?" to "God, I hope you're doing something!"

The search committee told me that they wanted to make a unanimous recommendation to the elders at South. I expected to wait a couple of weeks before hearing anything. It took only two days.

We set up a meeting with the elders at South. Again, tough questions. One elder in particular, a 30 year Human Resources veteran at GM posed some difficult administration related questions. Another asked me to talk about my position on the role of women in the church. The time flew by, and before we knew it we had met for over two-and-a-half hours. Again, I anticipated hearing something in about a week.

Dick Novello, the chairman of the elders called me the next day to ask when I might be available to preach a trial sermon if, at their meeting later that night, the elders decided to recommend me to the congregation. Again, I saw God's hand at work.

There have been other confirmations, too. Larry Carter, the President of my alma mater, told me, "I believe you're the man for this job." His affirmation means a lot to me, and humbles me even as I write this. My GLCC English professor, George Brown, called to encourage me. George's opinion carries a lot of weight - not just for me - but for all who know him. Jeff Strickler, a guy I knew in college who now attends South, was an encouragement as was Ruth Doty, one of the kindest ladies I've known. Of course my buddy Fred and his wife, Mariah, have been an incredible support to us as has my long-time friend, Mike.

Let me give you one more signpost from God. We've been looking at houses and, on the recommendation from a friend, we contacted a particular realtor. Now, this friend doesn't attend South; he has just used Missy in the past with great results. We've traveled all over Holt and Grand Ledge with Missy, and she is a delightful person. It turns out she listed the last SLCC preacher's home. She even attended South at one time and told Tracy that she really needs to start going back to church. Tracy was happy to recommend she return to South and see us.

God, we're told, works in mysterious ways. Yet, I'm certain he also works in convincing ways. We're convinced this is God's plan for us.

It hasn't been easy, today. We've shed some tears, and watched our friends hurting. We wish we could wrap folks up and take them with us. But just as surely as God's plan for us is to move to Lansing, God's plan for Butler is to continue to connect with God, connect with people and serve the world. Somewhere right now, there is a pastor who is praying that God will reveal "what is next" for him. That pastor is about to be blown away by the providence of God and the goodness of the people at Butler Church of Christ.

I hope he enjoys the journey as much as I have.

Miller's Time . . . or at least it oughta be!

Did you see Donald Miller peering out from the cover of the latest issue of Christianity Today? Me either. It's a shame, too. Miller has become one of my favorite authors. His books, Blue Like Jazz, Searching for God Knows What and To Own a Dragon have all impacted me. It is entirely appropriate that Miller grace the cover of CT's Annual Books Issue.

Of course, to look at the cover you wouldn't know that he was there. Why? Because the "Annual Books Issue" of Christianity Today has been re-covered with an advertisement for the new movie Evan Almighty.

It is so subtle that I didn't catch it until I had nearly read through the issue. The only difference between the sell-out cover and a typical CT is the upper right hand corner addition of the word "advertisement" in small letters. [See it there above the "a" and the "y"?]

The marketing of CT's cover and the displacement of Miller's mug suggests that we live in a world where movies have supplanted books as the dominant media of our day. That is probably true.

But, as one who loves both movies and books, I still don't like it.

My May flowers

My yard is alive with color! After several weeks of off and on planting, my flowers are beginning to bloom and fill an otherwise drab spring with vibrant color. Marigolds were the first to go in the ground. I have one bed that fills up with orange and yellow blooms each year. Their golden orbs nestle beneath a yellow day lily and a black-eyed susan. Beautiful!

Right behind them, on the east end of our porch, are two window boxes filled with red and white begonias. They're a blue flower away from a patriotic statement, but I've yet to find a blue begonia.

There are euphorbia and knautia (I just like saying their names). I've got a purple cone flower and about fifty feet of canna lilies. They're just poking through the warm soil, but by mid summer, they'll stand five feet tall crowned with giant flowing red blooms.

I've potted a red geranium in a hanging basket next to the garden gate, and along the sidewalk in the back yard, there is a mixture of red begonias (in the sun) and red New Guinea impatiens (in the shade). In the front yard, I potted several gerberas. And, of course, there are a number of petunias in various hues of purple and red.

My most frustrating flowers, though, have been the dahlias. Last year I purchased some incredible dahlias and planted them in the front yard. They loved the southern exposure and bloomed all summer long. I dug up the bulbs and replanted them this spring, but they've been slow to come on. They're just now breaking the surface of the soil. Who knows when they'll begin blooming.

My horticultural endeavors remind me of several truths.

• Not every flower grows at the same pace. Neither do people. I've seen some folks bloom right away. Others take time and patience. Often it is those who take the most time who seem to bloom the longest and brightest - if I'm patient enough to stick around to see it.
• Conditions need to be right. It takes the right plant in the right soil with the right light, moisture, and fertilizer to get the really big blooms. Subtract any one of those ingredients, and the result ranges somewhere between disappointment and failure. I wonder if I am too quick to judge a person's failure to blossom when I really need to pay more attention to where and how they're "planted"?
• Some plants are more fragile than others. My perennials - the knautia, euphorbia, day lily and black-eyed susan - can remain planted through our harsh winters, no problem. But my canna lilies will rot in the ground if I don't get them out by Thanksgiving. They've got to winter over in the basement and be planted again in the spring if I expect a summer color spectacular. Some people are more fragile, too. Perhaps I need to be a more gentle with some folks.
• A world without flowers is a dreary world indeed, and so is a world without people. No wonder God said, "It is not good for man to be alone." He knew we need other folks in our lives to provide color and contrast.
• Set it and forget it only works for Ron Popeil. I can set my Ronco Rotisserie and forget it, but my flowers will need my attention all summer long if they're going to bloom. People need attention, too.

There are a lot of other lessons I could learn from my flower beds, I'm sure. Stop by some time, and I'll show you around my color parade. Maybe we'll both learn something.

The Arab View of Baptism

I am reading Dore Gold's book The Fight for Jerusalem. It is an interesting account of the importance of the Holy City, both throughout history and in the current political context.

Tucked within the book (on pg. 153) I discovered something interesting about baptism. In 1949

. . . Israelis were denied access to both the Western Wall and the Mount of Olives during the entire period of the Jordanian rule. Jordan further barred non-Israeli Jews from the Western Wall, demanding that tourists present a certificate of baptism before a visa would be granted.

Apparently Jordanian Muslims understand what some of us don't get. It is our baptism which signifies that we are Christians. Interesting . . .

Norwegian Helpdesk

A tough call

My son isn't speaking to me right now.

At last night's ballgame his team was down 7-4 going into the bottom of the last inning. I was umpiring the bases (how did that happen, I ask myself). His teammates mounted a two-out rally to close the gap to 7-6.

Little Javey Moreno came to the plate and hit a hard shot to the shortstop. Javey put on the speed and hot-footed it to first while the shortstop struggled to field the grounder. He gathered it in and fired it to first, but over the first baseman's head. Javey sped on to second base.

Just one problem. He never touched first. Nobody saw it but me. The visiting manager and coaches were looking at the overthrown ball bouncing down the right field fence. The home team was looking at Javey running to second. I saw it, though. Hence the tough call.

As soon as Javey touched second base I knew that he, by all rights, should be rung up. What to do? Call him out and the game is over. My son's team loses. I am a goat. Stay silent and . . . well . . . nobody saw. No harm, no foul, right?

Wrong.

It wasn't any fun, but I made the tough call and punched Javey out. Game over.

It's not always easy to do the right thing. It's never easy when you know it will hurt the people you love, especially when nobody will know if you did the right thing or not. But, as I told my son after the game, your integrity is worth more than a tally in the win column.

One thing's for sure. If Javey ever plays Major League Baseball, I'll bet he never misses first base again. And with a name like Javey Moreno, he just might make "the show."

Not in my Wildest Dreamz

Survivor on CBS provided a great teaching opportunity for my three children tonight. Last week Yau-Man won a new Ford F350 Super Duty pickup truck. He used the truck as a bargaining chip with Dreamz. The deal: in exchange for Yau giving Dreamz the truck, when they reached the final four, if Dreamz won immunity he would give the immunity necklace to Yau-Man. Dreamz gave Yau his word and got his truck.

Fast forward to tonight. Dreamz won immunity, and then completely welshed on the deal. Yau was sent packing.

By doing so, Dreamz earned a shot at a million bucks. Of course, the price for his one-in-three shot at the big bucks was his integrity. With tears in his eyes, Dreamz looked into the camera and said how important it was for his young son to see his daddy on national television keeping his word.

Well, he didn't keep his word. He may have a new truck. He may even win the million dollars. But for my money, I would rather be an empty handed Yau than an underhanded Dreamz.

Little League Loudmouths

It's springtime again in Butler, Indiana. On a humid night I can hear the call of the umpire wafting across the railroad tracks as little leaguers stare knock-kneed at their classmates firing baseballs in their general direction.

My son is playing again this year - had a big hit the other night in fact. I am umpiring, too. That seems only fair as many times as I've hollered at the guys in blue over the years. Simply put, we spend a lot of time at Hathaway Park.

Last night I attended my friend Scott's game. He is the coach of the Butler Angels. His son, Tristan, is their shortstop. They were playing a team from another town. I arrived late. The home team was at bat. As I was pedaling my bike toward the diamond, I was surprised at the unusually loud noise coming from the park. The 'hey batta batta" seemed particularly strong.

Parking my bike, I discovered why. The kids in their blue unies out on defense were doing their best impersonation of Ferris Bueler's classic "swing batta." But so were the parents. And the parent's sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. I think I even saw a Schwann's man getting into it.

The Butler parents were disturbed by this. My buddy's wife was about to go off. She told me, "Go say something to them!" Sure, you know me, Mr. Non-confrontational.

I walked over among the hollering hoard and leaned against the backstop. The ring leader looked to be about seventeen. He was doing his best impersonation of an up-and-coming meth dealer - silver chain with a dollar sign medallion, straight-brimmed Yankee hat on cock-eyed, shirt down to his knees. You've probably seen him before hanging out at the corner stop-and-rob looking for chicks with driver's licenses.

I stood taking it all in for several minutes. A mother ambled over my way and leaned into the backstop because, apparently, yelling at someone else's kid from twenty feet away wasn't nearly effective enough. I smiled at her. She smiled back. "I've never seen anything like this," I said. "Really?" she responded. "No, this is a first for me." "You mean this is your first baseball game?" "No, I've been coming to little league games for twenty years." I had her hooked. Now she was interested.

Her brow was knotted in curiosity. "What then?" "Well," I said with a smile, "I've just never been to a baseball game where the fans heckled ten and eleven year-olds. I mean, I've heard adults yell at umpires, and coaches, but I've never actually seen grown people scream at someone else's little boy to strike out." (I was still smiling, by the way.)

"We like to support our kids," she ventured cautiously. "I think that's great, but why does supporting your kid mean tearing down another?" As if in answer to my question she tossed her head back to indicate the howling mob, "But they're all my family."

Okay. . .

"See the little guy out there at second? He's my son and we're all here to support him." I smiled again. "I think that's great. I'm sure he appreciates it."

The inning ended and I jogged to center field to turn the lights on.

Our team came to bat the next inning and put up four runs. The heckling stopped. What common sense and casual cajoling couldn't accomplish the scoreboard finally did.

Coach Tony Dungy on the National Day of Prayer

Which "P" will you pursue?

I spoke to 150 high school students and their parents tonight. It was really a blast. The Tri-Kappa Sorority in Garrett, Indiana plans an annual event to honor those who earn good grades at Garrett High School. I was asked to speak to them.

I told them that folks often pursue the wrong "p's." You know them: possessions, power, prestige, popularity, prosperity and pride. All of those pursuits leave one unfulfilled and empty, though.

Rather, I suggested, we should serve people. Possessions, popularity, pride - all these are fleeting. People last, however. Souls are eternal.

Watching these kids, I am hopeful in the generation who will be choosing my nursing home.

Just finished reading . . .

A men's group I am leading and I just finished Andy Stanley's book Visioneering. It was a good read. Check out a couple of quotes that I liked:

". . . our secular pursuits have more kingdom potential than
our religious ones. For it is in the realm of our secular pursuits that secular people are watching."

"God's ultimate plan for your life reaches beyond the vision he's given you for your family, business, ministry, and finances. He has positioned you in your culture as a singular point of light. A beacon in a world that desperately needs to see something divine, something that is clearly not of this world."

"I've yet to hear a story of a Christian motorist being flagged down by another driver who was pierced to the heart by the sight of a fish on the back of a car. And our Sunday morning routines certainly haven't left the world standing in awe of our God."

The kid cracks me up . . .

Jonah walked in the house yesterday and announced, "Dad, the house is peeing." Seems he discovered the sump pump discharge. The boy is a hoot!

Who are Gordon Gladden and Ethel Thomas?

Yesterday I mentioned that our church has received two prayer requests for Gordon C. Gladden and Ethel Thomas. Just who are they?

The prayer request was written anonymously, so I don't know who to call to ask for more information. So I Googled the names. It turns out that Gordon Gladden and Ethel Thomas have been on prayer lists all over the East Coast, Indiana, and points in between.

There are Methodists, Catholics, Church of Christ folks, and even Conservative Jews at Temple Beth Shalom in New York praying for these two.

Who are they? What is their need? I have no idea. But God does, so I'll pray for them all the same.

Please pray for . . .

Pastors hear plenty of requests for prayer. Its what we do. Someone has a need, so they come to us and ask us to intercede for them. It is humbling, really. James says that "the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. " That someone would place that kind of trust in me, or would hold me in such regard is a weighty burden.

We've had some strange requests at Butler Church of Christ over the years. A woman once asked our elders to lay hands on her car and pray over it. The car never did really run right prompting me to wonder if the men should have anointed it with 10W40 too.

This past Sunday little Jacob came up to me and showed me a scratch on his arm. He asked me to pray for it. I knelt there and asked Jesus to help him feel better and to help Jacob be more coordinated so he might stop falling down and hurting himself.

The oddest prayer request I've received recently, though, arrived in an unmarked envelope with a Kearney, New Jersey postmark. It came addressed to Butler Christian Church (not our name), and had the wrong street number. In a town our size street numbers are more guidelines than actual locations, and with my neighbor Bill as our postman, we got the letter anyway. Inside was a half sheet of lined paper - the sort that my kids use in school. The words, nearly illegible, simply asked us to pray for someone named Ethel

I shared the request with our congregation Sunday as I explained to the sacred responsibility that is entrusted to us when someone asks for prayer.

Today I received a second request from our mysterious letter-writer. More legible, the author asked us to pray for Ethel Thomas and Gordon C. Gladden. I have no idea who they are, or what their need is. But I'll pray for them. Perhaps you could too . . .

Springtime Thoughts

Each year at this time my thoughts turn to a great little weekend getaway that Tracy and I took a few years back to Petoskey, Michigan. It is the summer home of the great writer, Earnest Hemingway. I was moved, after our trip to write a poem about our experience there. I present it here for your perusal.

Springtime in Petoskey

Naked ski slopes, their white robes cast aside, Silent chairs await next year's ascension,

Water tumbling toward the inlet bay,
Beneath a verdant lawn where lovers stroll,

Dinner at Nick Adam's favorite bar,
His pen silent; his voice resounding still,

Among the rocks my lover and I walked,
Renewed friendship, whispering life and love,

Attentions restored and affections breathed,
Earnestly.

Springtime in Petoskey, springtime in my heart.

Great New Haiti Pictures

Hey folks, I just posted some great photos of our Haiti trip on the Haiti blog. Check it out!

Easter Sunday

I loved Easter Sunday at our church. We put into practice something we've been learning, and it worked! For the last several months our staff has been studying Thom Rainer's book Simple Church. He suggests that simple is better. We decided to put his theory to the test. This Easter was simple. No sunrise service. No big cantata. No drama. Just a "normal" Sunday service - done with excellence, of course.

The only change we made from our "usual" format was to add an additional service to accommodate the crowd we anticipated.

The result of our simple plan?

The largest Easter attendance in my ten year ministry here at BCC. There were 292 people here on Sunday (312 if you count the worship team twice - which I was tempted to do.) That represents an 18% increase over last year, which is pretty consistent with what our attendance has been running.

Numbers are cool, but the real number that interested me from Sunday is two. That's right, two. There were two people who were immersed Sunday, becoming Christians. A twenty-something mother of two and a high school freshman who is the foster son of a family in our church both professed their faith in Christ and were buried with him.

That is what we're about at BCC. The coolest part of these immersions is that they came, not as the direct result of our church staff (although we did meet and counsel with these two), but rather as the result of "laypeople" in our church embracing the church's vision to "connect with God and connect with people."

That is what cranks me up, not just about Easter Sunday, but about every Sunday!

Happy Keester!

One more word on Hell . . .

I had to share this bit that I uncovered in preparation for my sermon on Hell. You can find it on the web by clicking here. It cracked up the engineering students at TSU last night:

A retiring pChem (Physical Chemistry) professor was composing his last exam for a graduate course in statistical thermodynamics. Being a bit bored, and with a well kept and wry sense of humor, he set a single question on the sheet:

"Is Hell endothermic or exothermic? Support your answer with a proof."

He had little idea what to expect, or how to grade the results, but decided to reward any student who was able to come up with a reasonable and consistent reply to this query.

One "A" was awarded.

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law or some variant. The top student, however, wrote the following:

"First, we postulate that if souls exist, then they must have some mass. If they do, then a mole of souls can also have a mass. So, at what rate are souls moving into hell and at what rate are souls leaving? I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for souls entering hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and people do not belong to more than one religion on average, we can predict that all people and all souls go to hell on average. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change in volume in hell. Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in hell to stay the same, the ratio of the mass of souls and volume needs to stay constant. Thus, there are two possible conditions:

1) If hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter hell, than the temperature and pressure in hell will increase exponentially until all hell breaks loose.

2) If hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until hell freezes over.

We can solve this dilemma with the 1990 postulation of Ms. Theresa LeClair, the woman who lived across the hall from me in first year residence. Since I have still not been successful in obtaining [a date] with her, I know that condition two has not been met, and thus it can be concluded that condition one is true, and therefore that hell is exothermic.

A "Hell" of a Sermon

I preached at Tri-State University's Christian Campus House last night. It was a great time of worship. I took my daughter with me, and she said I did "pretty good."

The topic: Hell.

We don't hear a lot about Hell from many pulpits these days. In his book, Travels With Charley, John Steinbeck, wrote about a rare sermon he heard on the subject:

It had been long since I had heard such a good approach. It is our practice now, at least in the large cities, to find from our psychiatric priesthood that our sins aren't really sins at all but accidents that are set in motion by forces beyond our control. There was no nonsense in this church.

The minister . . . reassured us that we were a pretty sorry lot. And he was right. Having softened us up, he went into a glorious sermon, a fire-and-brimstone sermon. . . . He spoke of hell as an expert, not the mush-mush hell of these soft days, but a well-stoked, white-hot hell served by technicians of the first order.

Now, I'm no expert preacher where Hell is concerned. But, there was something interesting that I gleaned from Jesus' story of Lazarus and the Rich Man in Luke 16.

Twice, Jesus used the Greek word ὀδυνάω (odynao) to describe the anguish the rich man experiences in hell. "Anguish" is, in fact, how the NLT translates that word. (The NIV translates it as "agony.")

There are two other uses of this Greek word in the New Testament. Mary uses it to describe the emotion she and Joseph felt while looking for 12-year-old Jesus in Jerusalem following their Passover visit. After searching for Jesus for three days, a hysterical Mary said to her son, "why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been frantic (odynao), searching for you everywhere."

The other use of the word is used to describe the emotions the Ephesian elders experienced during their seaside farewell with the Apostle Paul in Acts 20. "What grieved (odynao) them most was his statement that they would never see his face again."

All four New Testament uses of this word describe intense emotional anguish. Two reference Hell. Both of the other uses refer to intense relational pain. The point? Hell is going to be a place of, not just intense physical pain and suffering, but also a place where one experiences the intense emotional suffering that comes from abrupt relational separation, and the realization of the permanence of that isolation.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon wrote, "God's indignation is no trifle. The anger of a holy, just, omnipotent, and infinite Being, is above all things to be dreaded; even a drop of it consumes, but to have it poured upon us is inconceivably dreadful."

For those of us who value relationships, who love people, Spurgeon's words, are chillingly accurate. Just one more reason to come to Jesus.

Till My Trophies at Last I Lay Down . . .

I received this dandy new Dinn Bros. Religion Awards catalog in the mail today. Religion awards . . . hmm . . .

Now, I'm all in favor of encouraging folks. I'm a big advocate of bestowing "honor where honor is due." But there is something about giving a trophy with a cross on it to someone for, say, living the Christian life.

Of course, that was my first response. Upon further inspection, I found plenty more to object to in this catalog. For instance, why would a religion awards catalog offer on page 57 a scholastic recognition pin # 7c32, which is a prominent view of a horse's rear? (I'm not making that up. That is, in fact, the name of the item.) Upon which elder or deacon does one bestow the "horse's rear award?"

Then there is the "crossed pistols" richly colored emblem trophy. Suitable for the usher who "persuades" the most people to begin tithing. Ambitious finance committees might even consider ordering medallions with said emblem on them for their ushers to wear on Sundays as a gentle reminder of what awaits those who don't give.

Then there are the animals. I can order a trophy topped with a pigeon, a beagle, or even an Angus steer. Come to think of it, our preschool director's last name is Steere. Perhaps we might order her a trophy. Then again, if I do that, she's gonna buy me a trophy topped with a turkey.

And I will have deserved it.

An Amazing Film

I first became acquainted with William Wilberforce through the writings of Charles Colson . Chuck seemed to hold Wilberforce in pretty high regard, but I knew little of the historical figure. Writing on Colson's website, Kevin Belmonte said,

Perhaps the most telling description ever written of evangelical reformer William Wilberforce comes from writer and philosopher Sir James Mackintosh. "I never saw anyone," Mackintosh wrote in 1830, "who touched life at so many points." Fitting words indeed for the man about whom it was also said: "No Englishman has ever done more to evoke the conscience of the British people and to elevate and ennoble British life."

I learned something more of that great abolitionist when Mrs. Frankly and I viewed the movie Amazing Grace last night.

I highly recommend it.