Back on the market: Round 3

Last May I wrote about our home in Indiana being back on the market. Turns out we are going to be selling it yet again. Unfortunately the nice couple that had purchased it last year are going to be moving out. I say, "unfortunately" because these are some really good folks that we have been blessed to have in our house.

Be that as it may, we now need to sell our house again. The land contract details of price, down payment and monthly payment are being ironed out right now. But if you know someone that wants a really nice home with a lot of updates on a great little corner in a nice small town, have them get in touch with me. You can email me by clicking on the link in the column to the right.

In the meantime, enjoy the photos of our "southern home" here below. And, feel free to pass them along to anyone that you know might want to purchase our home.

The front of our home. New windows, doors, siding and roof in 2004.

The kitchen was all new in 2004, too. Custom maple cabinets, center island and ceramic tile flooring.Our dining room with hardwood flooring, chandelier and lots of natural light.

Letting go some more

Regular readers of Frankly Speaking will recall the struggles that I have had with the realization that my first-born is a year away from leaving the nest. You see, Abby is in her year of "one-mores." With each event, Tracy and I look at each other and wordlessly say, "Just one more." Just one more marching band exposition. Just one more season of halftime performances - capped off by Senior night. Just one more winter choir concert. One more spring break. One more . . .

I mentioned this struggle in an email to my friend, Mike, recently. Mike and Kelly have raised a couple of amazing kids. Their son, Tyler, is completing his student teaching right now in anticipation of becoming a teacher. He is engaged to be married to a good Christian girl. Mike and Kelly's daughter, Brittany, is a student at Cincinnati Bible College. They're both exceptional kids that have a bright future ahead of them, and a credit to their parents.

Mike wrote back some encouraging words from which I have taken great comfort:

Thanks for your kind words about our kids. I always thought once they graduated my job was pretty much finished, boy was I wrong. Tyler and Kellie Thorp are getting married this spring and Brittany is going to Florida for spring break. About the year of "last ones". Turns out it isn't as bad as it seems. I shed some tears after Tyler's last high jump and his last soccer game but I survived. It is sad that a part of our lives is ending but I came to realize that for new life to begin sometimes the old life must die. You will find eventually that for every "last" there is a "first" that is even better than you could have dreamed of. You will see the life that you helped create venture out into the world and succeed beyond anything you ever imagined. Then when they fail, and they will, they will return to you for comfort and advice and maybe a kick in the backside. Maybe you already know these things but I hope hearing it again from someone else who is on the journey just a little ahead of you is an encouragement. Hope you and Tracy are well.

We are well, Mike. In fact, maybe we're even a little better because of your encouraging words.

A fish tale parable

When Bob and Tom (yes, those are their real names) went ice fishing the other day they probably had no idea they would ignite a controversy within South Lansing Christian Church. The day began innocently enough. Inspired by South's Seek, Study, Serve vision the pair sought fish, studied fish, and even served fresh minnows in the hopes that they might become fishers of, well, fish.

Spiritual as they are, Bob and Tom followed the early church's example of "having all things in common," That is to say, the pair pooled their resources - no doubt a sensible, stewardship-based approach to angling. Bob provided the equipment. The ice shanty, tip-up (fisherman speak for ice fishing pole) - all Bob's. For his part, Tom supplied the lake. A private body of water, Tom has long had permission to fish this secret honey-hole (a point he was careful to bring up in the ensuing controversy). Bob drove the pair to the lake, but Tom bought the bait and selected the location for the hole, even drilling it through the thick February ice.

Tom baited the hook and dropped the line into the frozen abyss and the two settled back to tell the lies that fishermen tell while waiting for the bait to be taken. Which it was. By a monster pike. Bob was the first to see the tip-up flag, or so he claims.

For those of you that live in places where water is actually a liquid more than four months out of the year, when the bait is taken on an ice fishing pole, a spring loaded flag is tripped, alerting the fisherman that a fish is on the line. This serves a couple of purposes. First, it enables the fisherman to warm his hands by keeping them away from the pole, except when absolutely necessary. Gloves are preferable, but pockets will do. As will armpits. Your own, usually, although I have heard of husband/wife fishing partners that started out innocently trying to stay warm and ended up receiving frostbite treatment. But that is a story for another blog. Probably one that is blocked by your Internet filter.

The second purpose of the tip-up is to enable the fisherman to drill multiple holes in the ice and drop lines in each. This increases the possibility that a fish moving beneath the ice might swim onto food strangely and mysteriously hanging from the sky waiting to be devoured as though it were a gift from Poseidon himself. Of course, there is always the danger that one's tip-ups will flag simultaneously, leading to the sportsman's version of the circus plate-spinner. One unfortunate angler, Dwight Snerdherder, upon seeing multiple flags surrounding his shanty, began scurrying from hole to hole until he became dizzy and passed out. They found him there hours later, alive, surrounded by fish, his Carharts frozen to the ice.

Tom reached for the pole, set the hook (another distinction he was careful to make later) and began reeling in the line. Judging by the tug on the line, Tom knew that he had either hooked a "big 'un" as they say here in Michigan, or else the minnow that he was using for bait was sucked into the pond's open loop geo-thermal system. Turns out it was indeed a hoss.

As he was winding line, Tom peered into the hole and, seeing the monster swim past exclaimed, "Its a hog, Bob!" Springing into action, Bob laid hold of the pole and began to assist Tom in landing the whopper. Was it an innocent desire to help his friend or something more sinister? Perhaps Bob wanted to lay claim to a portion of this 35 1/2 inch wallhanger?

Long story short, they landed the lunker. Before the body was cold . . . er, um . . . I mean warm, the arguing began.

"It was my pole!"

"I bought the bait!"

"My shanty!"

"My hole!"

"I spotted the flag first!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Not!"

"So!"

Unfortunately the controversy spilled over into Sunday morning. Within minutes of completing my sermon on grace and mercy and other minor doctrinal issues of faith, Bob approached me. "Hypothetical," he began. "Let's say you're fishing with a friend, and you own the one pole that you're sharing, and you catch a fish together. Who does the fish belong to?" For his part, Tom kept quiet, though not for long.

Raising the I'll-take-my-lake-and-go-home defense, Tom later explained, "I invited Bob to go fishing on this private lake that only I have permission to fish on. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have had the chance to fish there." When I asked him about Bob's proprietary tackle assertion, he dismissed it handily. "If I lend you my golf club and you hit a hole in one with my club, then is it my hole in one? No, its yours. Point. Set. Game. Match." (Mixed metaphor notwithstanding.)

Truth be told, we may never know to whom the fish belongs. The only ones that really know are Bob and Tom. And the fish. And he's not talking.

Oh . . . the spiritual part. Paul wrote about the perils of man-fishing in 1 Corinthians 1:

I beg you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ that all of you agree with each other and not be split into groups. I beg that you be completely joined together by having the same kind of thinking and the same purpose. My brothers and sisters, some people from Chloe's family have told me quite plainly that there are quarrels among you. This is what I mean: One of you says, "I follow Paul"; another says, "I follow Apollos"; another says, "I follow Peter"; and another says, "I follow Christ." Christ has been divided up into different groups! Did Paul die on the cross for you? No! Were you baptized in the name of Paul? No!

You get it. And, in case you're wondering, my good-natured friends Bob and Tom get it too.

Susan Bandy, R.I.P.

The Lansing State Journal ran an amazing obituary for Susan Patricia Bandy today. While the piece made no mention of Ms. Bandy's faith, it is clear that she was full of life. My favorite bit was a paragraph about her college education and early years of employment:

She spent two years at Lansing Community College, sharpening her social skills, until Pappy drew the line and made her get a job. She went to work in the State Treasury Department mail room and worked her way up the ladder until her skills exceeded her interest. Moving on to the State Highway Department, she found her niche as a drafting technician, but when all the rest areas, highways and parking lots began to look alike, she transferred to the Michigan Department of Natural Resources, where the tasks were more varied. She fit right into the Engineering Division Family, and though she retired from the DNR in 2002, she stayed in touch and, of course, never missed a Division party.

They aren't even holding a funeral for Susan. Her last wish was simply that her friends get together and have a party. What a way to be remembered.

Teaching Church Leadership . . . Haitian style

I've just confirmed my assignment for our upcoming Haiti mission trip. I will be teaching Church Leadership to preachers and elders in the Bible College at St. Louis du Nord. I will lead a sixteen hour seminar, spread out over four days, in which we will cover the basic structure and function of the New Testament church's leadership.

I am tasked to cover such elements as the founding of the church, the early church's structure, the choosing of the first seven deacons, and the Jerusalem council among other topics.

Four days to cover the book of Acts and the passages from the pastoral epistles that pertain to leadership?! Impossible, really. I know that several preachers and church leaders read Frankly Speaking, so my question to you is: given only four days to teach, what do you think are the essential components of church leadership on which I should focus?

Oh . . . and if you're moved to give, we need 50 spiral notebooks and about $200 to feed the college students for a week while I am there. Drop me a note if you can help, and leave your course curriculum suggestions in the comments section.

Guess who's coming to South?

Frankly Speaking readers can be the first to know: Brother Ron Otto will be returning to South Lansing Christian Church on February 15 to preach the Sunday sermon. Ron ministered at South from 1993 to 2006 before becoming the Senior Minister at Lincoln Christian Church in Lincoln, Illinois.

Ron did amazing things while at South. When he mentioned to me that he was going to be in the neighborhood on February 15, I got pretty excited. I already planned to be out of town that weekend and, when the speaker I planned to have here graciously allowed Ron to take his spot, the way was paved for Ron to once again preach in the church where he made such a big impact.

So, spread the word, friend. Ron Otto will be preaching at South on February 15!

I'm feelin' for you, Mr. President

Read an interesting tidbit this week about President Obama. Apparently he mistook a window for a door and, upon trying to enter the Oval Office from the portico between the West Wing and his personal residence, ran into a rather large pane of glass. Thankfully he wasn't injured.

I feel for him. He's in an unfamiliar place. He has the whole world watching every move he makes. He wants to make a good impression. And he runs into a window.

I've had the same experience. The first time I went on a retreat with our staff at South Lansing Christian Church we went to a cottage owned by one of our families. I planned to grill out for everyone and walked through the dining room intending to go outside and light the grill. Instead, thinking it was already open, I walked into a (very clean) patio door. I nearly broke my nose. The staff nearly broke their funny bones they were laughing so hard.

Thankfully the door didn't break and, aside from a bruised ego, there was no permanent damage.

If I had to guess, our new President probably had a chuckle at his own expense. He strikes me as the sort of fellow that doesn't take himself too seriously. Hey, if you can't laugh at yourself, you're probably going to have a very hard time making your way in the world.

Trolling for dollars

Myself, Mrs. Frankly, and our little Frank-ette are headed to Haiti in March to assist a surgical team at Northwest Haiti Christian Mission. This vital mission brings hope and healing to poor Haitians living on the Northwest corner of that island. Tracy will be using her recently completed Registered Medical Assistant's license in the birthing center and in the recover room of the mission's hospital. Abigail will be working in the infant orphanage to organize their inventory of baby clothes. I will be working with the Bible College training pastors and working with the local church. When I am not preaching and teaching, I will be doing laundry in the hospital's central sterile supply.

I launched a causes application on my facebook page today to help raise funds for our trip. The cost of the trip is $1500 each, for a total of $4500 for the three of us.

I thought I would also use this forum to ask my faithful Frankly Speaking readers to partner with us by praying for us and, if God enables you, by donating to our effort. I would love to know that you are praying for us during our trip on March 13-21. And, if you can help contribute, even a small amount, it will help us immensely. Hundreds of people drop by Frankly Speaking each week. If you can join even a few others in contributing, it will begin to add up and make a difference.

If you're moved to do so, please make your check out to South Lansing Christian Church and send it to:

ATTN: Frank Weller
South Lansing Christian Church
6300 Aurelius Rd.
Lansing, MI 48911

When you do, write "Weller Mission Trip" in the memo line. We'll make sure you're properly receipted.

And, thanks for helping us help Haitians.

Walkin' in a *%@#^$ Winter Wonderland

My friend, "Johnny on the Scott" recently announced that he is moving to Inverness, Florida to become the Senior Minister at First Christian Church there. In my email reply I told him, "I hate the cold. Therefore, I hate you. Congratulations on the new ministry. Love, Frank." [Note to the humor Nazis commenting on the previous post: John knows I was just kidding.]

Seriously though. Winter in Michigan has been tough so far. Our maintenance supervisor, Chris, knocked this mammoth icicle off the building yesterday and laid it on the floor of my office.

I thought about firing him. In fact, I might have actually told him he was fired. [He knew I was kidding, too . . . I think.]

The best thing about winter is that it kills the bugs and sets us up for a glorious Spring. In Florida, John will view Spring as a harbinger of the hot and humid days that lie around the corner. Me, I view Spring as a time for life to renew. A season filled with mushroom hunting, catchers and pitchers reporting, daffodils and tulips, and the dog rolling around in the grass, grateful to be released from her long winter hibernation.

Okay, I guess I can live with winter - not that I have any choice.

Thoughts on my daughters BF

So my daughter has a new boyfriend. I haven't actually met the young man yet. We told our daughter when we gave her the "you're-old-enough-to-go-out-on-a-date card" that, before she could go anywhere with some suitor, that they first had to meet me, the DAD.

So Abby has been trying to arrange a meet and greet with young William all week. Apparently there is a basketball game at Everett Friday night and he wants her to accompany him there. So far, it hasn't worked out to meet the youngster.

She tells me he is a good boy. Of course she says that. Charles Manson's squeeze probably told her old man the same thing: "Daddy, whatever you do, don't look at his tattoo. He's very sensitive about it. And besides, all the boys are inking their foreheads these days." I'm sure Will is a good guy, though. My daughter is generally a good judge of character.

There are two musts that I insist upon, two inviolable standards that I expect from any young man who wants to date my daughter. First, he must be a Christian. And by that, I don't mean a kid who attends church just because his folks do, or some dude that hangs out with the youth group because it's a place to cruise Jesus-chicks. I expect a for-real, sold-out-to-Jesus sort of believer. If he is one of those, he's already light years ahead of most of the testosterone factories that ambulate through the high school hallways every day.

Second, he must treat my daughter with respect. Open the door. Buy her dinner. Do what he says he is going to do. And, by all means, keep his hands north of the 10th parallel and well south of the 40th. Theologians call the area of earth bordered by the 10th and 40th latitudes the "10/40 window." It refers to the area where the most "unreached people groups" in the world live. Where my daughter is concerned, the 10/40 window is closed. Preferably, he will not touch her at all, but if, occasionally, his knee brushes hers (the knee is the 40th parallel in my mind), I guess that is okay. But only accidentally. If at all. Come to think of it, let's just have no touching. It would also be nice if he says "yes ma'am" to Mrs. Weller, and it would be nice if he was sort of terrified of me, too.

Beyond that, I have a lot of flexibility. Turns out young William is in the Everett band. That's good. He plays the clarinet. Benny Goodman played the clarinet. Band is definitely a plus in his portfolio even if the clarinet is a bit too sultry in this particular instance. Earlier this week he had to get off the phone because he needed to study - another admirable trait.

It seems unlikely that I can meet Will prior to Friday night's game, so here is the plan: Friday afternoon I am riding along with Officer McNamara. As a Lansing Police Department Chaplain, I frequently get all geared up, complete with uniform and bullet-proof vest, and ride along with the officers. McNamara is a canine officer, so (I think) he's not assigned to a particular district. If that is the case, I'm thinking Mac and his dog and I might need to drop by Everett High School during the game for a public relations visit. In uniform. With the dog. And meet Will.

Yeah, that sounds just about perfect.

I am reading Watchman Nee's book Sit, Walk, Stand.

Dean Trune told me that Watchman Nee, after being arrested by the Chinese government, was never allowed to be alone with anyone because he always ended up leading them to Christ. His jailers placed him in solitary confinement. Even then, he kept converting the guards. Eventually they took the extraordinary steps of cutting out his tongue to silence him.

He never wrote a book. Notes taken by those who heard him were eventually published in book form. Sit, Walk, Stand is Nee's look at the book of Ephesians. Ephesians 1-3, he says, are doctrinal in nature, while chapters 4-6 are practical.

Frankly, it is one of those books that I am going to have to re-read. It is too difficult, in parts, for me to get the first time around. One part I do understand, though, is this:

Too many Christians have all the doctrine but live lives that are a contradiction of it. They know all about chapters 1 to 3 of Ephesians, but they do not put chapters 4 to 6 into practice. It were better to have no doctrine than to be a contradiction. Has God commanded something? Then throw yourself back on God for the means to do what he has commanded. May the Lord teach us that the whole principle of the Christian life is that we go beyond what is right to do what is well-pleasing to him.

Wow. I think that describes the church I grew up in. We were more concerned with being right than being well-pleasing. In our movement it was really easier to grow up knowing about Jesus, than it was to grow up knowing Jesus - at least it was for me. I am grateful that we seem to be striking a more balanced chord in recent years. There may be a few that throw out the doctrinal baby with the bath water but, for the most part, we seem to finally be getting that we must obey the scriptures and have a relationship with their Author. At least I hope we are.

Good advice from Glenn

I often listen to Glenn Beck when I am in the car. He said something earlier this week that has been bouncing back and forth in my mind ever since. His comment: "The key to living successfully is acting proactively."

I think he is right.

Two nights ago I told the youngest of the Franklies to snow-blow our driveway. I suggested he do the neighbors too, having noticed it had not yet been cleaned out. He did; then last night, as we were cleaning our garage, the neighbor came by and handed him $21. He said, "No, no, I did that because we are neighbors, you don't need to do that." She insisted; so did he. Finally, he relented when she said, "Consider this as payment for the next time, then."

That is proactivity. Jonah cleaned her walk and driveway and earned enough money to pay his way to the youth group lock-in. How can I, at 41 years old, learn to do what Jonah has learned at thirteen?

Frankly, I react far more than I proact. I allow circumstances or events to dictate what I do. My calendar is filled with reactions. As I look through what I am working on, I see too little "sharpening of the saw." Too much going on in quadrants one and three and not enough in quadrant two.

My intentions are there. I arrive at the office planning to sequester myself for two or three hours of seeking God and sermon preparation. Someone drops by. The phone rings. The computer alerts me to a newly arrived email. (I have a thought that I just have to blog.) Soon I am following a rabbit trail that leads me far from my intended course. And, it is difficult to discern which of these are "distractions" and which are fundamental to my work as a pastor. The Apostles thought it wrong for them to "neglect the ministry of the word" to minister to people's needs, and yet I am certain that they didn't turn their backs on folks.

Where is the line? How do I balance being proactive in my ministry with reacting to the people I minister to? And, what would it take for me to become less of a reactionary and more of a "proactionary?"

Discipline, I suspect. Discipline to lay out my calendar and stick to it. Discipline to plan my meals and my workouts and refuse to deviate from my plans. Discipline to get to bed on time so I can get up when I intend. Plan the work; work the plan. Pay the price. Just do it. All the accurate axioms that I too easily relegate to platitude status.

I tell the people who come to me for marriage advice, "Having a good marriage is 20% knowing what to do and 80% doing what you know."

Maybe I need to take a page out of my own playbook and work a little harder at putting it into practice.

Love this musical!

Tried to rip Abby's DVD of Hairspray to her iPod today but failed. Sorry sis. Here is something that should make you smile, though. - Love, Dad

A (not so typical) day in the life of . . . Frankly Speaking

A full day today for Frankly Speaking. At the risk of seeming incredibly vain, I thought I would share my first full work day of 2009 with you, my faithful readers.

• 4:30 AM - Alarm goes off; roll out of bed; shower; put on a suit for LPD Chaplain duty
  
• 5:00 AM - Leave for office to retrieve stuff for Chaplain's Lineup
• 5:20 AM - Arrive at office; get stuff; leave
• 5:30 AM - Purchase pies at Meijer; one apple, one Dutch apple, one peach, and one cherry
• 5:50 AM - Arrive at Lansing Police Department North Precinct and begin cutting pies; make contact with command staff
• 6:00 AM - Lineup
• 6:10 AM - Chaplain's Lineup; introduce chaplaincy program; show Dave Ramsey video; Dave Ramsey video doesn't work; invite officers to attend Financial Peace University; serve pie
• 6:30 AM - Leave for home; call daughter on the way to make sure she's up; she announces 2-hour delay for Grand Ledge High School
• 6:45 AM - Arrive home and check News Channel 6 to confirm school delay; watch thirty minutes of lions eating stuff on Discovery Channel; leave house
  
• 7:30 AM - Arrive at Fitness USA and begin working out (interval training on the treadmill); run into "Tiny", the youth pastor from Trinity Methodist, who helped coach Jonah's football team
• 8:30 AM - Finish workout; shower (amazing water pressure); head for home
• 8:45 AM - Make sure kids are up (again) and cook breakfast for them (very atypical for me)
• 9:30 AM - Take Jonah to Beagle; Abby and Caleb to Grand Ledge High School
• 9:45 AM - Head to South Lansing Christian Church for work
• 10:15 AM - Arrive at office; visit with Micki, Sue, Wally, Chad and Tim
  
• 10:45 AM - SEEK time; Reading from Hebrews 11-13; journal; pray; journal some more
• 10:55 AM - Drop in visitor; set SEEK time aside
• 11:45 AM - Good visit; back to SEEK time
  
• 12:15 PM - Prep for Staff Meeting
• 12:20 PM - Drop-in visitor; prep-time set aside
  
• 12:47 PM - Back to prep time; scurrying to get ready for staff meeting
  
• 1:00 PM - Waiting on staff to arrive for 1 PM Staff Meeting; (I've set a bad example for timeliness and I didn't communicate to the rest of the staff my newly minted resolve to be punctual)
• 1:20 PM - Staff meeting begins (finally)
  
• 2:30 PM - Leave for LPD afternoon lineup
  
• 3:10 PM - Chaplain's Lineup; repeat spiel from 6:00 AM, pie inclusive
• 3:30 PM - Leave to return to office
• 4:00 PM - Meet with parishioner; pray for his troubled marriage
• 5:00 PM - Reply to emails
  
• 5:05 PM - Check the news: Drudge, LSJ, Fark
  
• 5:35 PM - Pack up computer
  
• 5:41 PM - Leave for home; listen to podcast of Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me on the way
• 5:50 PM - Check the mail; no check from Indiana house yet; stress about bills
  
• 6:30 - Enter nutrition and exercise for today on gyminee .com
• 6:51 PM - Supper with the family (Hamburger Helper and green beans)
  
• 7:45 PM - Leave for Chaplain's Lineup
• 8:10 PM - Chaplain's Lineup; repeat spiel from 6:00 AM and 3:00 PM; more pie
• 8:30 PM - Leave for home; stop at QD to get snacks for Abby and Caleb; show Abby a parking meter 'cause she says she's never seen one before
• 9:00 PM - Arrive at home
  
• 9:45 PM - Wii bowling with the Franklies - I won; Wii tennis with Frankette - won that, too
• 10:46 PM - Finish writing this post; worry that it is incredibly vain; post it anyway; go to bed

Thanks, Claiborne . . .

The Providence Journal is reporting that former United States Senator Claiborne Pell passed away yesterday. Serving in relative obscurity, Pell's name will forever be synonymous with the grants that bear his name.

I received a Pell grant in college. I hope that, in four years, when I have a daughter and a son both in college, that they might receive Pell grants too.

It's funny. Someone I never met helped make it possible for me to go to college. Who knows how many times I have been blessed by the efforts of someone I never met. Pell grants.

Thanks, Senator.

Standing on the shoulders of . . . Ron Otto

Ron Otto stopped by this morning for a visit. My predecessor at South Lansing Christan Church, Ron was youth minister when he arrived here in 1993. When he left for Lincoln, Illinois sixteen years later he left behind a legacy of outstanding preaching, impassioned evangelism, and a new building near the corner of Aurelius and Miller Roads.

To be completely frank, and that is what Frankly Speaking is all about, following a man of Ron's stature was a bit intimidating to me when I came to South last August. The guy can preach! His people skills are without peer. He is able to inspire and motivate people to action like few other preachers I know. The cool thing is that Ron has done the same for me.

I never leave his presence without a couple new ideas that I am eager to try out. I know that he has been one of my biggest supporters here at South - both to me personally, and behind the scenes with those I know.

We often needle one another. Ron is just that kind of guy. He greases people and laughs when they dish it right back. But seriously, Ron is a guy that I respect and admire. And just in case I've never told you that, I thought you should know.

Your preacher wears pantyhose

Two decades ago I wore pantyhose. But only at Christmas time. It was not a fetish, just festive. I should explain; as a student at Great Lakes Christian College I participated in the Madrigal singers. Fellow GLCC Alum, Eric Sherman, dug up this old video of me and my fellow singers. This was shot for public access cable and, as it turns out, was sponsored by the church where I am now the preacher. Go figure. Oh. In case you're wondering, I am the one in the pink aluminum foil.

"

Merry Christmas!

The Franklies are headed off to South Lansing Christian Church in a little bit for Christmas Eve service. We'll get home about 1 A.M. and crash, waking up six or so hours later to a breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon. Then, with our appetites sated and our hearts warmed, we'll gather around the fireplace to open gifts. I love it.

What will you be doing the next twelve hours or so?

What gift are you expecting to receive?

What gift are you most excited about giving?

The gift of God incarnate - timeless, priceless, and precious - of all the blessings we celebrate this time of year, He is the gift that really matters.

Merry Christmas!

Our church rocks!

I started to write a lengthy post about how proud I am of the folks who stepped up today to meet the need I wrote about in this post. Then I got to thinking about the whole, "do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing thing" and deleted it.

You folks know who you are and what you did. More importantly, you know for Whom you did it.

Your preacher just wanted you all to know that I am proud of you . . .

Merry Christmas!

Two for the family . . .

My missionary sister sent a couple of photos from my niece, Laura's, birthday that I wanted to share with friends and family. Yes, that is a fan on the left of the photo. It is ninety plus degrees where they live - unlike here where there are ten inches of snow on the ground and the wind chill is in the teens.

A divine appointment . . . by patrol car.

My friend Dean Trune tells all of these astonishing stories about the divine appointments that God puts in his path. I've often wondered why I don't have more of those, or maybe I just am too dense to recognize them when they appear.

Last night I was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that God had me right where he wanted me. As a volunteer chaplain for Lansing Police Department, I ride along with officers once a month (sometimes more). Yesterday I was riding with Officer Smith (I've changed the names here) when we received a call that a babysitter called 911. She had become overwhelmed, was holding a knife, and was threatening to hurt herself or the babies she was watching.

For the first time since I've been a chaplain we drove with lights and sirens. I stopped looking at the speedometer when it went north of 90 miles per hour. When we got to the townhouse, we were grateful to learn that the young woman had safely located the children to an upstairs bedroom, placed the knife in the kitchen sink, and was waiting for us to arrive.

As the officers talked with the babysitters, I went upstairs to play with the children. There was a little boy and a baby girl. The girl was crying and had a runny nose. She had spit up her spaghetti dinner all over her brother's mattress. I cleaned her up, puts some pants on her and gave her a teddy bear. The boy, who was three-years-old, was a lot of fun. Little Jonathon and I played with cars together. We read a book and rolled the cars back and forth on the hardwood floor.

After a while I took the children downstairs to watch some television. I asked the babysitter the little girl's name. (Little Jonathon couldn't pronounce it.) When the babysitter told me her unique name I realized why the little boy looked so familiar. Both of these children used to attend South Lansing Christian Church along with their parents. Their dad ran off about six months ago leaving mom to raise the two little ones alone. She moved a couple of times and our church lost track of them.

After I settled the little ones down to watch Bob the Builder I roamed around the townhouse. This three bedroom town house had no furniture. For the past six months, this family has been living with only a small dresser, a twin mattress and a baby-crib mattress. Aside from a television and a telephone, they have nothing else. Literally. Nothing else. No couches or chairs. No kitchen table. No end tables. No appliances. Nothing.

Now here is the thing that makes this such a divine appointment. Several months ago an apartment building around the corner from the church burned. Our church began collecting furniture to donate to people who had lost all their furnishings. With our pole building bursting with furniture we called the Red Cross to begin the distribution. The Red Cross told us that The Salvation Army had the distribution list. When we called The Salvation Army, they told us that the Red Cross had the list. The fact is, nobody had a list, and we had a pole barn full of furniture that we couldn't get rid of. And, we didn't know why.

Now I do. Sunday afternoon a team of deacons from South are loading up a trailer full of furniture and taking it to this family. Others are donating food. A Sunday school class is going to donate some funds that we can use to get some Christmas gifts (and maybe a tree) for the little ones.

All because I rode with a cop. At the exact time God wanted me to. Cool. Very cool.

Your sins . . . made public?!

A Florida church is catching flack for their elders' decision to publicly announce to the congregation that one of their members is having pre-marital sex with her boyfriend. The 49-year-old woman, who is divorced from her husband, was told by Grace Community Church to stop sleeping with her new beau. She refused. Under pressure from Grace Community Church, she decided to withdraw her membership and is now attending elsewhere.

On January 4th the church leadership plans, in accordance with their understanding of scripture, to "tell it to the church." The scripture the church references is Matthew 18:15-17:

If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over. But if he will not listen, take one or two others along, so that 'every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.' If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector.

Church discipline is a sticky wicket. (Check out this Wall Street Journal article on the subject.) The fact of the matter is, there are plenty of Frankly Speaking readers that are considerably smarter than this author. So here are a couple of questions for which I would love to read your answers:

Is this a correct application of Matthew 18?

Jesus said, "If your brother sins against you . . ." How does that apply in this instance?

Finally, how does Galatians 6:1, "Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted." fit into all of this?

Hotcakes, cars and clocks: Weller's theory of time relativity

Yesterday I breakfasted with Brian. I explained my theory of why time seems to fly over a meal of pecan-raisin pancakes at Flapjack Restaurant. But first, let me explain how, between mouthfuls of steaming hotcakes smothered in (sugar-free) syrup, the subject came up.

Brian mentioned that his oldest grandson is seventeen and carrying a newly-minted driver's license in his wallet. As it happens, the oldest of the Franklies is seventeen herself and has recently taken to the road. (She nearly spun out, in fact, on the way home from her High School Christmas concert last night, but correctly corrected and made her way home like a real life Michigan driver - which she is, of course.)

Anyway, both Brian and I were feeling a little bit sentimental as we talked about how quickly time has passed. Just yesterday my daughter was tooling around in a Little Tykes coupe with red fenders and a yellow roof. Made of plastic, the body resisted all attempts at dents and dings. Today she drives around in one of Detroit's finest. Interstate, inner-city - she does fine in any environment except perhaps dirt roads, which she has not yet had the occasion to drive on. (Except for those times when she was thirteen and I would let her drive our old Astro minivan the back way from Butler to the Koeppe farm - but don't tell her mother.)

Back to breakfast. Brian said to me, "I can't believe how quickly time flies."

"I have a theory about that," I replied.

"Let's have it."

"It is like this: When you're six years old and you're waiting for Christmas to come, or you're waiting for the big day when you finally get to ride the school bus, it seems like time drags on. That is because a month is a significant percentage of your total life experience.

"It seems like it takes forever for you to turn ten years old because one year, when you are only nine, is over ten percent of your lifetime. When you're forty-one like me, though, one year is less than 2.5% of your total life experience. It's not that time passes more quickly, it is just that it seems to because your perception of the future is compared to your experience of the past. It is the same reason why almost everyone looks back on their childhood as 'the good old days' when life seemed to move at a slower pace.

"In other words, I consider Christmas coming in just over a week and I think, 'it is just a blink away.' My four-year-old goddaughter, however, thinks it will never get here. We view time differently."

Consider that in light of eternity.

Earlier this week our church laid to rest a thirty-seven-year-old woman who passed away from cancer. Tammy left behind a loving husband and five children ages sixteen months to fourteen years. For her husband, Chris, and her children, I imagine it seems like it will be a very long time until they are able to see her again. And, for the youngest of her family, that time will seem to pass more slowly, especially right now. Chris enjoyed fourteen years with his wife. Their infant son knew her less than two. Sadly, they likely will spend far more time without Tammy than with her - at least here on earth.

Except for this - Tammy is a Christ-follower. So is her husband and their three oldest children. I expect the littlest two will be, too. And so I was able to say with confidence at her funeral:

You're going to spend far more years with Tammy than without her. Heaven is forever, friends. And even if all of us live to a ripe old age, living decades here on earth without Tammy, that time is only a fraction of a whisper of a moment compared to the time that you will spend with her in Heaven.

It seems like the time between now and when we are finally at home in Heaven ticks by ever so slowly. And yet, viewed from the lens of eternity, say, a million years from now, this life is "a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." And, on freezing, snow-covered days like today, I am glad for that.

Lose the smile, you're in Indiana!

WRTV 6 is running a story that details my home state of Indiana's decision to disallow smiling for driver's licenses. Yes, you read that correctly. Hoosiers can no longer smile when their driver's license photos are snapped.

More troubling than the grinch-ification of the Indiana BMV, however, is their reasoning. Indiana's new facial recognition software recognizes specific facial features so that, ostensibly, identity theft becomes more difficult. More disconcerting to me, however, is how much the whole thing smacks of Big Brother. (The literary figure, kids, not the reality show.) Do we really want to record and codify the facial features of every person applying for a driver's license in Indiana? Makes for a handy database if government ever decides to become, say, intrusive or heavy handed. Not that government would ever do that - at least not any time soon, right?

I don't know. Maybe the folks at the BMV are right. Then again, the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles was ushered into the "modern era" by Joel Silverman, the former Jock-strap salesman that Governor Mitch Daniels hired away from Galyan's, a failed chain of Indianapolis Sporting Good's stores. Silverman's brief bureaucratic career was, in many people's minds, accurately characterized by my then twelve-year-old daughter shortly after she heard him speak at a town hall meeting back in Butler, Indiana. When I asked her what her impression was of Silverman she gave a one-word answer: "Loser!"

The BMV systematically dismantled their delivery service over the course of the several years by closing local branches all over the state of Indiana despite the clear wishes of Indiana taxpayers. That the same BMV is banning smiling doesn't surprise the Hoosiers I've spoken with. Given the way the BMV has been administered over the years, they stopped smiling long ago.

Three dollars, and worth every penny . . .

I am reading Bob Greene's book, Fraternity: A Journey in Search of Five Presidents. I came across it in Big Lots the other day while Mrs. Frankly was shopping for . . . whatever it was she was shopping for. I loved Greene's Once Upon a Town, so I picked it up. By the time Tracy found me reading in some recliner destined to become a Christmas gift for someone's lucky husband, I had already chewed through the first chapter.

Greene interviewed five former Presidents for the book: Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan and Bush. It is the best $3 read I've ever bought. Here is a snippet from the book in which Greene considers the toughness of veteran combat pilots George H. W. Bush (41) and Geroge McGovern, who unsuccessfully ran for the office that Bush eventually attained:

I've always thought that there should be an unwritten rule for those of us who were born after World War II: Whenever you meet an old combat pilot from the war, you are automatically disqualified from thinking that your life could possibly measure up to his. He beat you before you blinked in the light. Yet somehow Bush - and McGovern - had been judged by millions of their countrymen, and by commentators who had never heard a shot fired in anger, as if they were lifelong croquet players, badminton aficianados, instead of men who, when it counted, piloted bombers against the enemy during the greatest war in the history of human conflict.

Both Georges, and millions of other men and women just like them, deserve our thanks. And, in a smaller - but no less sincere way - Bob Greene has earned mine.

Merry Christmas

God, after all . . .

After hearing Paul Harvey, Jr. on the way to work this morning, I couldn't wait to get to his website and dig more deeply into the subject he illuminated. (Click on the Tuesday morning update link to listen.)

Harvey explained a recent article from Discover Magazine. Discover is a scientific journal. That's important to know, because the article has some pretty big theological implications. Were it published in . . . say Christianity Today, I have no doubt it would have been pilloried by naturalistic pundits world-wide. It may still be, however, because the conclusions that physicists quoted in the article have reached fly in the face of modern scientific thought. Consider these quotes:

"Our universe is perfectly tailored for life. That may be the work of God or the result of our universe being one of many."

"Life, it seems, is not an incidental component of the universe, burped up out of a random chemical brew on a lonely planet to endure for a few fleeting ticks of the cosmic clock. In some strange sense, it appears that we are not adapted to the universe; the universe is adapted to us."

"On the other hand, if there is no multiverse, where does that leave physicists? 'If there is only one universe,' Carr says, 'you might have to have a fine-tuner. If you don’t want God, you’d better have a multiverse.' "

The multiverse theory suggests that there are other universes, with their own laws of physics - and that our universe just happened to have physical laws that support life as we know it. Whether or not there are multiple universes I cannot know. But the fact that this universe is so finely tuned leads me to believe that there must be a Being with a hand on the knob that does the tuning.

Consider these "Cosmic Coincidences." Author Tim Folger writes, "If these cosmic traits were just slightly altered, life as we know it would be impossible." A few examples:

Stars like the sun produce energy by fusing two hydrogen atoms into a single helium atom. During that reaction, 0.007 percent of the mass of the hydrogen atoms is converted into energy, via Einstein’s famous e = mc2 equation. But if that percentage were, say, 0.006 or 0.008, the universe would be far more hostile to life. The lower number would result in a universe filled only with hydrogen; the higher number would leave a universe with no hydrogen (and therefore no water) and no stars like the sun.

The early universe was delicately poised between runaway expansion and terminal collapse. Had the universe contained much more matter, additional gravity would have made it implode. If it contained less, the universe would have expanded too quickly for galaxies to form.

Had matter in the universe been more evenly distributed, it would not have clumped together to form galaxies. Had matter been clumpier, it would have condensed into black holes.

Atomic nuclei are bound together by the so-called strong force. If that force were slightly more powerful, all the protons in the early universe would have paired off and there would be no hydrogen, which fuels long-lived stars. Water would not exist, nor would any known form of life.

My mind is pea-sized compared to the scientists that Folger quotes in his article. And yet, the most important lesson I learned about physics was at the knee of Erma Kees in the first grade: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." Bang! God spoke and it was so. At the risk of sounding smug (and I honestly do not mean to), it is nice to see that science is finally catching up.

Letting go of Abby

Our daughter, Abigail, got her license a few weeks back. It was a long time in coming. She completed driver's education when we lived in Indiana, but we moved to Michigan just a few weeks before she was eligible to get her Indiana license. Initially we thought we might let her just use our old Indiana address to get her license and then just transfer it to Michigan. After rethinking it, though, we thought it would be simpler to just make one transaction after we moved.

We were wrong. She had to get her Michigan driver's permit and then undergo a second driver's ed class. Then, she had to take her driver's test. She passed with flying colors and we headed into East Lansing for the MSU vs. Purdue football game to celebrate. The following Monday she and I went to the Secretary of State and she became a full-fledged driver.

The last couple of weeks have been about us taking the training wheels off. He first trip was to the Student Leader meeting for South's youth group. She drove her brothers to school several times. Youth group trips on Sunday night were part of the process, too. The real test, however, took place today when she and her brothers headed south to Grandma and Grandpa's house in Butler, Indiana. The two hour trip took them down Interstate 69 at 70 mph.

The thought of everything that matters to Tracy and I heading down the highway at any speed faster than a Huffy made me twitch. I had them call me when they left the house, when they got on the interstate, when they crossed the state line, when they got off the interstate . . . you get the idea. They arrived safely. End of anxiety, right?

Nope.

A couple hours after arriving in Butler Abby called to ask if she could go to a movie with her friend, John. Who is a boy. Who would be driving her. To the movie. And back to her grandparents. Her first official car date?

I said that this weekend's trip was about us removing the training wheels. The truth is, I think maybe it is more about me learning to let go. To be completely honest, it hurts because I know where this is all headed. Seventeen years ago my wife and I went on our first "post-baby" date and entrusted our little girl to a babysitter for the first time. Today we're racing toward Abby moving into a college dorm and, (gulp!) walking down a church aisle.

When I was about to become a father for the first time a wiser, older man told me, "Frank your children will break your heart." As he was the father of a great kid that made him proud then (and since with a great husband, career, and beautiful granddaughter), I was puzzled by his comment.

I understand now. . .

Where are you leading?

Just finished Andy Stanley's book Next Generation Leader with our Joshua's Men group. For the past twelve months I have been leading a group of seven emergent leaders through a series of books focusing on leadership - at home, at work, and in the church. We started work on the inside focusing on spiritual formation and, as it turned out, we ended there, too.

I love what Andy Stanley wrote on page 28: "We must never forget that people who follow us are exactly where we have led them."

A sobering thought for those of us who lead others . . .

Common sense, the Constitution and Scripture

A friend from South sent this video clip of Michigander, Ted Nugent, expressing his opinion on a person's right to bear arms. Ted is well known for his support of the Second Amendment, and his involvement with the National Rifle Association.

As I watched the clip, I found myself agreeing. The common sense part of me says, "Yes, a person should be able to defend himself or herself." Our founding fathers thought it important that we be able to do so. It seems that, if all of us are endowed by our creator with the right to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness," that we ought to be able to secure those rights with a firearm. Nugent is obviously passionate in this regard - more passionate than me, certainly.

On the other hand, it is difficult for me to reconcile his comments with the Apostle John's: "Beloved, let us love one another. For love comes from God and everyone that loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love." Herein lies the enigmatic tension with which I continue to struggle: the tension between living as a citizen of this nation, and as a citizen of the Kingdom of God.

Take a look at the video and see if you don't find yourself conflicted, too. Then, if you're inclined, comment and see if you can't help me wrap my head around the issue of dual citizenship. WARNING: Be advised that Ted uses some strong language - stronger than you're used to reading or hearing at Frankly Speaking.

Jonah - 2001

A friend in Indiana was cleaning out her computer files today and sent me this picture of our son, Jonah. Though he is now thirteen, Jonah was only six at the time and was holding one of Emma's pups. Brings back memories . . .

So a preacher walks into a bar . . .

I am sitting at The Rockford, a watering hole in downtown Farwell, Michigan. They advertised "Free Wi-Fi" on the sign out front, so I stopped in to do a little online work between the morning and afternoon hunts. This is something new for me, I must admit. I've rarely gone into a bar, and I certainly never went in to have a bite to eat and answer email.

Quick quiz: A guy wearing an Indiana University sweatshirt and typing on a MacBook Pro is in a bar in Farwell, Michigan with a bunch of guys in camo and a dude setting up sound equipment for tonight's "Thirsty Tuesday Band Night." (There's a guy with a long beard - like the dude from ZZ Top, too.) Which of these does not fit? You're right, it's me.

Seems Jesus went to a lot of places where he didn't fit in either - not that I am Jesus, of course. My motives aren't nearly so altruistic. Hey, I just came for the free Wi-Fi.

I've seen tons of deer. Shot at three. Killed one, but didn't find it until the day after - and after the coyotes, I am afraid. I seem to keep missing where I am aiming. I'm beginning to think that I either stink at hunting, or I have bumped my rifle's scope. Tonight is my last chance. Nothing over 200 yards. 150 is better.

PS - They just delivered my burger. The condiments come to the table in a cardboard Miller Lite 6-pack carrier. Cool. I think.

Frankly Speaking selected for Alltop!!

Frankly Speaking was recently added to Alltop. Alltop is an online magazine rack that collects popular feeds about various topics. My blog was added to the "Modern Church" section. Browse on over and check it out!

Restricting literacy by choice. . .

When I moved to Michigan I left behind an amazing group of people who were working to bring library service to the entire county from which I moved. The place of my birth, elementary and high school years, DeKalb County, Indiana has a very special place in my heart. My family continues to live there, and when we talk about "going home," it is the place to which we are referring.

Shortly before I relocated to Lansing, I and a group of literacy advocates met with the County Commissioners in an effort to persuade them to extend library service to every township in the county. Now, for the Frankly Speaking readers that take their library cards for granted, an explanation is necessary. Indiana is one of a handful of states that does not provide taxpayer supported library services for all of it's citizens. 93% of Hoosiers have a tax-payer funded library card. 7% do not, and must purchase an annual subscription. While not a problem for some, many who live in a "unserved" area cannot afford a library card and thus are forced to do without.

At the aforementioned meeting we presented our case. The commissioners dismissed our request forthwith. Frankly, it appeared to many of us who were present that they went into the standing-room only meeting with their minds already made up. Sadly, DeKalb County - the county where I grew up, the county where I still own property and continue to pay property taxes - remains one of the relatively few underserved counties in the United States.

How did we respond? We licked our wounds and moved on. At Butler Public Library, a dedicated staff and board of directors are building a new library - with no tax dollars! The other libraries in the county continue to expand services and offer programming to all citizens regardless of their ability or inability to access materials that can be checked out and taken home.

Today I was blessed to return the Butler Public Library for a "topping off" ceremony. The last bit of structural steel is about to be placed at the new library and soon the structure will be buttoned up for winter so interior work can begin.

While there I inquired about the recent elections and how they might affect library service. I learned that County Councilman Larry Moughler had an interesting quote in The Evening Star. I respect Larry Moughler. He is a good Christian man. He has worked hard his whole life, raised four good sons, and served his country in the United States Marine Corps. His grandkids are friends with my oldest two children. What is more, as a Gideon, he promotes Bible distribution throughout the world. He is a great guy, really, that I'm sure I would agree with on most topics. But, if he is quoted correctly in this particular article, I couldn't disagree more.

When asked his position on bringing county-wide library service to DeKalb County, Larry said,

"I don't use the library service . . . I know to some people it's very important. To me, it wouldn't be worth it . . . I'm not a reader, I guess, so I wouldn't appreciate that."

For the life of me, I just cannot understand that mindset. It is akin to me saying, "I don't use centrally dispatched 911 service . . . that may be important to some people, but I don't like to talk on the phone and don't expect an emergency, so I guess I wouldn't appreciate that." These same folks say, "I don't have kids in school, so why should I pay a school tax?"

Some services, while not universally used, are necessary because they collectively raise the quality of life and intellectual tide of a community. Library service is one such service. I cannot imagine a world where a quality library of wide-ranging books, periodicals, and media from authors and artists with whom I agree and disagree are not available to anyone who wants them. I've read about such places. George Orwell wrote about one in his book, 1984.

As I was pondering my frustration with the "I'm-not-personally-using-the-library-so-I'm-not-going-to-support-it" mindset, I spoke with a ministry colleague on the phone who told me of a quote he read some time ago:

"Those that don't read are no better off than those that can't."

My fear is this: the former - those who do not read and choose to not support libraries, the very organizations that promote reading - are ensuring a greater increasing supply of the latter.

For you, Dad and Mom . . .

Tina and Marty, were afraid you might have trouble opening the email, pop, so here is this picture for you. For those of you who don't know them . . . this is my sister, her husband, and my two nieces, Heather and Laura, outside their home in Guinea, West Africa.

The part that impressed me . . .

I thought President-Elect Obama's victory speech last night was amazing. While there were a couple of points on which I disagree - his affirmation of Roosevelt's New Deal, for example - I nevertheless thought it humble, genteel, and even inspiring. The portion of his speech that most moved me was when he said,

Let's remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House, a party founded on the values of self-reliance and individual liberty and national unity.

Those are values that we all share. And while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress.

As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, we are not enemies but friends. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.

And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces, to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of the world, our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand.

To those -- to those who would tear the world down: We will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security: We support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright: Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope.

That's the true genius of America: that America can change. Our union can be perfected. What we've already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

I am convinced that our 44th President is a good man, and there is no doubt that Obama is a great orator who has the makings of the best speech giving Commander in Chief of my lifetime. For my part, I will be praying that he is more than merely a good orator but, given that governing is so much more than making fine speeches, a good President, too.

Thoughts?

Witnessed history tonight. I agree with Bill Bennett who said he would be praying for President Obama. Bennett, he related was a great candidate who he now hoped would be a great President. Your thoughts?

Here's my story. What is yours?

Stopped by Sawdon School this morning on the way to work to cast my ballot. When I arrived, there was ample parking and no line. I made my way to precinct four. Sawdon houses four polling places and none looked overwhelmed. I showed my ID, signed a card testifying to my residence, and received my ballot. There were no people in line ahead of me. I filled out my ballot, placed it in the machine (I was the 127th person voting on that machine), got my sticker and left.

The whole effort took less than five minutes.

How about you? What is your November 4th story?

Lowering my ears

Finally got a haircut tonight at Great Clips in the Meijer store next door. The hair looks good. She even trimmed my bushy eyebrows and chopped the thatch out of my ears (Fred). Too bad they couldn't do anything with the rest of my melon . . .

Doc Doty

I saw a picture of Doc Doty on Eric's Facebook page the other night. It reminded me of a letter that Doc sent me over ten years ago. I had just arrived at the Butler Church of Christ as their new preacher. Just months prior, the church had undergone a difficult time. As I began my ministry there, I sent letters to dozens of Christian leaders. I asked Bible college presidents to pray. I sent a letter to Charles Stanley, even. (He responded personally that he would be praying for us.)

I saved all these letters. My most cherished is from Doc. It means even more to me now that I am preaching at Doc's "home church." I can't imagine what it must have been like for Ron to look out from the pulpit and see Doc sitting among the faithful. What a privilege. Here is what Doc wrote to me:

Dear Frank,

I have kept letter of last month on my desk here at GLCC . . and it has reminded me to pray again and again in your behalf.

Without knowing the specific situation and/or problems at Butler I have taken your name to the Lord, sincerely asking that you might find release from pressure / or tight situations . . or any other oppressive obstacle (or obstacles) confronting you.

It will be a pleasure and a relief whenn you are able to inform me that the matter of concern(s) [is resolved] . . and that you are again at peace in heart and soul.

Sincerely in Christ,

Doc Doty

I don't know whether or not they read blogs in Heaven, but I do know that "we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses." Among that cloud, looking down upon us, is Dr. Brant Lee Doty. Doc, I still covet your prayers. Thanks for standing beside me.