Here I go again . . .

It's that time of year - time for my annual church+flag=syncretism rant. The last time I blogged in this vein the link to my blog was deleted from at least one website. Hopefully I will communicate with a bit more grace this time around.

I opened the latest issue of a nearby church's newsletter today. On the cover was a picture of a large American flag with this poem, written by an unknown author:

O flag of our Union,
To you we'll be true,
To you red and white stripes,
And your stars on the blue;
The emblem of freedom,
The symbol of right,
We children salute you
O flag fair and bright!

Where to begin . . . First, let me say, once again, that I love my country. I thank God that I was born in what I believe is the best country on earth. I am grateful for the sacrifices that men and women have made throughout our nation's history to ensure our freedom. I celebrate Memorial Day and Independence Day along with my fellow patriots. Whenever our family gathers, we pray for our fellow Americans who are separated from their loved ones because their military service has them posted in some far off land - something my Navy-veteran father modeled for his children.

Having said that, can we as the church recognize that Christ's Kingdom is not of this world? Can we understand that it is not the US flag that is the symbol of freedom, but the cross? Can we at least admit that a flag is not the "symbol of right"; that our nation has been wrong occasionally.

Are we more right than other countries? Certainly. Is our ideal of freedom based on a government "of the people, by the people and for the people," the gold-standard of political freedom throughout the world? I believe it is. But, as the Church, we need to recognize that, when we proclaim freedom we need to focus - not on the freedom we have as Americans - but on the freedom we have in Christ!

We who are Christ-followers live in two worlds. We are Americans, yes, but we are Christians first, and blending the two is walking up to the line of idolatry. Proclaiming on the cover of one's church's premier publication that "we'll be true" to the flag is leaning over the line so far that I one is in danger of tumbling over.

Like many believers I know, I struggle with the tension that results in being faithful to Christ and loyal to my nation. I'll be the first to admit that I don't always balance that tension quite right. Indeed, I often find my thoughts and feelings on the subject ebbing and flowing. Having said that, I remain aware that, if I allow the church to simply reflect the patriotism of our flag-waving culture, I am in danger of, as Greg Boyd puts it in his book The Myth of a Christian Nation, reducing the cross to "the pole upon which a national flag waves."

PS - I welcome your thoughts and comments. I'd rather we at least dialog before my link is exiled to cyber-Siberia.

Hamming it up

Graduation open house season 2008 is finally in the books. Tracy and I attended several. I've said for years now that we should publish a newsletter with a ratings system for open houses. You know:

The Smith open house featured a wide assortment of appetizers and free Pepsi products. There were yard games for everyone, but regrettably they were monopolized by the extended family. In particular, the young cousins were loud and Uncle Buck's cigar smoke somewhat tainted the atmosphere of an otherwise fine party. While the punch was a bit heavy on ginger ale, that was more than compensated for by a graduation cake consisting of, not two, but three flavors - chocolate, white and spice cakes. We give it three and a half diplomas.

We traveled to several open houses. Of course we didn't get invited to Amanda's. (Knew I'd throw that in there didn't you Amanda. That's okay, you're future father-in-law will still pay for your rehearsal dinner.)

Tracy took this pic at Megan's open house. Her dad, Jeff, and I have a sort of (not to be read as sordid) bizarre relationship. He's a great friend, and we're all proud that he and Beth have successfully graduated two of three fine young adults. That still leaves Rebecca. We're expecting her to turn out just as well - especially since we're planning on having her for a daughter-in-law someday . . . Hey a dad can dream, can't he?

Seriously, though . . . I really want to know

When I wrote about a recently discovered tribe of indigenous people located in the remote Brazilian rain forest last month, I had no idea that the story behind their existence was so, well, mundane. The tribe's existence was touted as an amazing discovery of a hitherto unknown group of native Brazilians. It seems, however that we've known about this tribe's existence for decades. Well, not me and you, but the sociologist types who study these things.

According to a recent internet report, the tribe has been monitored since before the first World War.

Here, again, is my question: "What, if any, responsibility do Christians have to reach this "lost" tribe with the good news of Jesus Christ?" How is it possible that four (or more) generations of these people have died without a saving knowledge of God's Son?

Seriously, I want to know. Should your church and my church be doing something about this?

Headed for the border

Son #1 and I are headed to Mexico tomorrow for a week-long mission trip. This is Caleb's first mission trip and first time traveling outside the United States. I am looking forward to our time together doing Kingdom work with brothers and sisters that are different from me and mine.

My good friend Lee Bracey, the Executive Director of Woodburn Christian Children's Home is preaching at South on Sunday. He is a good man and a good preacher. We're going to show this video to introduce Lee and WCCH.

Great neighbors

The Weller home in Grand Ledge was smacked by the storms that ripped through central Michigan on Saturday night. I stood and watched from the shelter of my garage as the neighbor's cottonwood whipped back and forth. I thought, for sure, it was going to go over. As it happened, it was our cottonwood that did not make it.

The twenty-five foot, twenty-five year old tree blew down across the entrance to our subdivision blocking our only way in and out. We were blessed that it did not land on (or perhaps in) the house. In the morning, as I left to go to church, I found myself unable to leave. My son and I grabbed the bow saw and hacked a few branches off to allow our car to squeeze through.

I left church expecting to come home to a cleanup chore. The neighbors, though, had it pretty well in hand. The tree was nearly completely cut up when I got home.

We fared well compared to many Grand Ledge residents. Coming back from an afternoon wedding on Sunday we were unable to get into town on M-100. Jenne Street remains closed. They did manage to clear Degroff Street so we were able to get home. Thankfully our power was restored by about 9:30 P.M. I know many others who were without power yet this morning.

The power of God in nature overwhelms me. When I realize that the wind and thunder and lightning are not even a fraction of God's omnipotence I am humbled.

Welcome home, Stanley

Jonah and I traveled to Detroit today with my buddy Fred to hang out at Hart Plaza celebrating the Red Wing's Stanley Cup victory. It was a blast! The day started with us hanging out at the Joe watching players arrive for the parade. Fred was able to get a great shot of Chris Draper hoisting the cup just a few feet away in the Joe Louis players' parking lot. Then we headed to Hart for the big rally. There were gazillions of people there. (Crowd estimates were several hundred thousand).

My favorite moment of the day, though, was when Detroit mayor Kwame Kilpatrick took the stage to offer his congratulations to the Wings. When I first saw him on the state, I leaned over and told Fred, "The question isn't if they will boo the mayor, the question is: will they stop?"

The answer is "no."

From the moment Kwame was introduced, the crowd screamed their boos and cat-calls, and didn't stop until he left the podium. I was only fifty yards from the stage, directly in front of the speakers, and I couldn't hear a word of what he was saying.

It's time for the mayor to get a clue and move on.

Sole custody of the maple tree

My buddy Mike told me about a guy he knows whose wife recently separated from him. Despite their marital difficulties the husband remained hopeful they might work through it. Then his wife hired a team of people to come to their home and dig up the hosta plants and azalea bushes she had planted. Shortly thereafter a giant tree mover rolled in and extracted the twenty foot tall maple from the front lawn and carted it away leaving a gaping hole in front of the house.

Mike's assessment: this thing ain't gonna blow over.

Seems like there is a metaphor for divorce somewhere in that maple tree's roots, eh Kjergaard?

More from Dave Ramsey

Mrs. Frankly and I went to lunch today at bd's Mongolian Barbecue. Very tasty! Since our birthdays are only fifteen hours apart, and since bd's offers free lunch on your birthday, we were able to eat for only the cost of our two soda pops and the tip.

While there, I engaged our server, Jonathon, in conversation. I mentioned that I am preaching about Jonathon this Sunday. He asked what church I preach at and, when I told him South Lansing Christian Church on Aurelius Road, he knew it right away. "I drive past there on my way to work in Ionia every day," he told me.

"What are you doing driving to Ionia?" I asked.

"I manage a Walgreen's there."

"Then what are you doing waiting tables here?"

His response: "This is my Dave Ramsey job."

Tracy and I looked at each other and cracked up. We went on to talk about FPU and the recent car repair he had that cleaned out his emergency fund. He told me that he bought life insurance recently and, when the salesman tried to sell him whole life, he insisted on term. The insurance salesman pressed him to get whole but when Jonathon stayed true to FPU the guy said, "Wait a minute. You're in that class aren't you?"

"What class?"

"The one with that radio guy."

"You mean Dave Ramsey?"

"Yeah that's the one. You're not going to buy this policy are you?"

"Nope."

Way to go Jonathon. And way to go Dave. Thanks for helping Tracy and I work through our financial challenges. So far, we've paid off over $4,000 in debt and have about $500 in our emergency fund. We're on week seven and moving along strong. I've got my own "Dave Ramsey job," too, and we're looking to become debt free - to live like no one else so we can give like no one else.

WWDRD?

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer is reporting that a Milwaukee farmer found $1700 in dry-rotted depression era cash stuffed in a rusted metal box in a shed he was tearing down on his farm. Apparently, rumors of the cash have floated around for years. Dan Deming, the farm's owner, began searching around the farm about three years ago when he received a metal detector for his birthday.

Hmmmmmm. Cash stuffed in a box in an old shed back in 1935. What would Dave Ramsey do? Well, $1700 invested in a decent mutual fund in 1935, with interest compounded would now be worth $342,424 today. Guess that farmer blew that one, huh.

Thanks, Dave . . .

Breitbart carried a story today about a woman who lived for 58 years in an "iron lung" machine. Stricken by polio at age 3, she lived to the age of 61 when, earlier today, she passed away due to a power failure and her family's inability to start up their backup generator.

She graduated High School, received an honorary college degree, and wrote a children's book, all in her confined condition. Amazing.

People shaping people

I am beginning a new sermon series, Making David, this Sunday at South Lansing Christian Church.

Imagine Michelangelo walking around the stone that would become David. The six-foot high slab of marble awaits his chisel. Blow by blow, bit by bit, this master artisan shapes the shapeless into a masterpiece. Surrounded by shards of stone, he lays down his tools and stares in wonder at the form that has emerged. It is finished, perfect, a work for the ages.

God shapes us into who he wants us to be, too. The artist’s medium is stone or maybe clay; God works in flesh and blood. The artist uses his hands, a mallet, chisels of various shape and size; God uses people in our lives to make us into who he wants us to be. Our relationships – both those that are good and those that are bad – shape us and mold us. It is unlikely that David would have become “a man after God’s own heart” without the people he experienced – and in some cases endured.

I think of some of the people who have helped shape me into the person I am today. I remember being fired from one of my first jobs. I baled hay for my uncle Miles. He told me to be at the farm at 10 AM but, because of problems with the baler, the first load didn't arrive until well after lunch. When it came time to settle up, I complained about not being paid for the time I wasted waiting. Big mistake. Uncle Miles never called me to bale again. The lesson: choose very carefully when and if you plan to confront the boss.

I remember the encouragement of Pearl Gerner and Mary Pearson in my early years and Lloyd Mealer in more recent years. They helped me to find and follow my calling. I am grateful for friends like Fred and Mike and Mike and countless others who stand beside me whether they've been next door or in the next state.

There have been a couple of Nathans in my life, too - people who've lovingly but firmly confronted me when I messed up. I once planned a church-wide, month-long prayer emphasis while the Senior Minister was out of town. He returned from vacation to find out his Associate Minister had committed him to preach on prayer for the next few weeks. Gary was really cool about it, but he made it clear that I needed to communicate better.

All of us have people in our lives who have helped shape us. Who has helped shape you?

Way down in Kokomo

Headed back to central Indiana on Sunday to preach at the Judson Road Christian Church. Tracy and I were really blessed to begin full-time ministry with the gold folks at Kokomo Church of Christ, as they were then known. Dr. Gary Carpenter was my "boss," mentor, and encourager. Gary is still preaching at Judson Road. He is, quite simply, one of my favorite preachers. Gary is away on a well-deserved sabbatical.

Tracy and I are looking forward to seeing the McCartys, the Russells, the Snows, the Kuhns, the Baers, and regular Frankly Speaking reader "Bruce," and dozens of other people who played a huge role in our early ministry years. We might even cruise through Highland Park to see "Old Ben." It oughta be a great time!

He touched me . . .

Since switching to the Mac, I've struggled to find a PDA that played nice with the Apple. Finally, with the acquisition of an iPod Touch, I've landed on a solution. The Touch is basically and iPhone without the phone or the camera. It keeps my contacts, my email and my calendar. the early review: I love it!

The best part of the deal is we were able to do so without costing the church any bucks - thanks to the creativity of Wally Lowman. We sold the old PDA on eBay and transfered the phone service from the Treo to the Razor. Chad gets the Treo, Frank gets the iPod, and Wally gets a big wet kiss.

Truth versus falsity

Spoke today from 1 John 4:1-6 about how we as believers can know the truth from falsehood. Had a bit of a technical problem with the video I planned to show. So, for all you Southies, here is what you missed:

Every time I think I've seen it all . . .

Read tonight that some dude is selling Gideon's Bibles on Craigslist. Bibles that he freely admits he took over the years. In all fairness, he's willing to sell them at a discount . . . if the bidder is a Gideon.

Only $50 for 67 King James Bibles. Hurry while they're still available.

Click here for the listing.

UPDATE
I emailed the seller of the Bibles yesterday to ask him how he could, in good conscience, sell Gideon Bibles. That he stole . . . er, received . . . for free from the hotels where he lodged. Here is his reply:

Hey there Frank, thanks for your interest in those bibles. Their a good deal as you can tell.

Let me know when you can come pick them up. I can't let my ex wife know about the sale cause I owe her some money and don't want her to get any of this, you know where I'm coming from.

The bibles are in her basement so we would have to go over when she is at work. My car is in the shop so I can't bring them to my house.
Let me know when you can meet me there.

You can't make this stuff up . . .

Back on the market . . .

Our family just returned from Butler, Indiana. We spent the day cleaning our old home at 205 W. Oak St. We sold it late last year to a young couple. They purchased the house on land contract but, sadly, they moved out recently. Consequently, we find ourselves needing to sell the home again.

It is a real beauty, and priced to move. If you know someone who is looking for a nice home on a quiet street in a great little town, please send them my way. You can email me by clicking on the link to the right.

You can also click here to see our Craig's List listing.

An olfactory buffet

Went for a jog tonight. The spring colors were amazing. Pink and lavender crabapple trees in full bloom lined Degroff Street. Purple lilacs are blossoming. The tulips are hanging on, as are the few forsythias that haven't turned green. Even the magnolia trees seem unready to cast their blooms just yet.

The most amazing thing about the run, though, was the plethora of smells. At every turn there was some new sweet scent wafting across the humid evening breeze.

Absolutely beautiful. . .

True Identity

This morning I am preaching about our identity in Jesus Christ. 1 John makes it clear that we are children of God.

Yesterday my son got his United States Passport in the mail. He intends to put his first stamp in it on a mission trip to Mexico this June. He is a documented United States citizen now. He has certain rights and privileges. He can live and work here. He can freely cross our nation's international borders. He can run for President when he is thirty-five and try to clean up the messes that this year's candidates are likely to leave when they walk away from the Oval Office.

As believers in Jesus Christ, we have rights and privileges, too. John wrote that, "he who has the Son has life." Our belief in Jesus provides us with a passport, so to speak, that enables us to cross far greater borders than are here on earth. With Christ, we cross over from death to life!

A man's gotta do . . .

Several have asked aloud why my posts to Frankly Speaking have been less frequent of late. The simple truth of the matter is this: I've taken on a temporary part-time job.

Tracy and I are participating in our church's Financial Peace University class. Many are familiar with this great money management class that is taught by Dave Ramsey. In it, he teaches students to take "baby steps." Baby step one is simple: get $1000 in an emergency fund. So, when the opportunity arose for me to take on a three week gig grading standardized tests for a company named Pearson, I jumped at it. The job will enable me to bank about $750 in three weeks and will put me well on my way to starting a healthy emergency fund.

Regrettably, the job is five days a week from 6-10 PM. This has been less than ideal for me and my family.

Still, I can't help but feel a little like Pa Ingalls heading off to the rock quary to find work after the failed wheat harvest. (For those of you in the You Tube generation, that was a Little House on the Prairie reference.) There are times in life when a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, and going the extra mile to ensure my family's financial peace is one of those times.

Then again, when I think of the sacrifices that mothers and fathers all over the globe make for their children every day - going without food, working twelve hour days every day, serving in the military far away from home, giving up their lives - my working an extra shift for three weeks seems like nothing. The more I think about it, in fact, the more grateful I am that God gave me the opportunity.

So much for the Charles Ingalls analogy . . .

Full auto . . .

So the governor of Kansas recently signed a bill into law that permits Kansans to own machine guns, silencers, sawed off shotguns and other fully automatic weapons.

Now I'm a second amendment guy. Although I don't have the bumper sticker, and have never sent a dime to the NRA, I pretty much think I should have the right to own my great-great grandfather's twelve-gauge Meridan shotgun. And my deer rifle. And .22 caliber rimfire. And the Remingron 870 that I used to not kill a deer last fall. Someday I plan to buy a handgun so I can go to the range with Tim and Dr. Joe and shoot up a paper target or two. Hey, I even think Charlton Heston and his, "from my cold dead hand" thing bit was pretty cool - even if it was ill-timed coming, as it did, on the heels of the Columbine shootings.

But, for the life of Smith and Wesson, I can't figure out why anyone needs to own a machine gun.

The AP story reporting the events in the Sunflower State quotes a politician explaining that the bill is attempting to benefit collectors who want to make, say an M14, part of their collection. Their collection of what - military grade killing tools? Do they plan to display their burp gun on the shelf next to their harmless bazooka and for-show-only claymore mine?

Kansans ought to just do what Michigan rednecks have been doing for decades - filing down the sears on their Model 7400s and attaching drum magazines to their glocks. Or, if they're more well to do, buying a conversion kit on the internet. Of course, we don't install them, we just put them on the shelf. For our collection.