30 things that thrill me - Day 15

Taking a drink of water from a fire hydrant.

I returned from Drive Conference this morning, collapsing into bed at about 4 AM. The three days was inspiring, amazing and challenging.

Andy Stanley is the founder and lead pastor of North Point Community Church in Alpharetta, Georgia. In the last decade and a half, North Point has developed into a multi-campus church that is devoted to moving people into a growing relationship with Jesus Christ. Their vision: to become a church for people that don't like church.

They've had some success at it, too, reaching thousands of unchurched and de-churched people that, for one reason or other, have avoided church and, by and large, Jesus for their whole lives.

The thing about this sort of conference is this: what I learned isn't so much mind altering as it is affirming what I already believe. It challenges me to return to my basic assumptions about ministry and church and implement them in fresh ways. For example . . .

The church is the only institution that exists, primarily, for the benefit of those who do not yet belong. Over and over we heard Drive presenters tell us that their goal is to remove whatever obstacles that unchurched people have between them and the church. They're not afraid of offending people with the gospel - the gospel was offensive in Jesus' day, and remains so today - they just don't want to offend them in the parking lot, in the foyer, or when they drop their children off in the nursery. To that end, they work very, very hard to make sure their guests are treated well.

The folks at South Lansing Church of Christ do a good job in this regard - at least from my perspective. But I don't know about the perspective of someone that has never been to church. How can I assess that? It is a question I need to come up with an answer to.

We also heard about the importance of the Sunday worship service in communicating one clear, unified, concise message. This is done through the singing, through the sermon and through the elements that accompany those. Our Wally Lowman does an amazing job with our singing. (I knew at least 2/3 of the tunes we sang at Drive because Wally is right there on the leading edge.) I need to make sure that I am doing my part to present the message in compelling and clear ways.

I attended breakout sessions that detail how North Point does their fund raising, how they provide opportunities for community service, how their students ministries work and a handful of other elements within their church.

Frankly, my head is spinning a bit.

It is like trying to take a drink from a fire hydrant on a hot summer day. You don't know how much water you're able to rally ingest. Probably not that much. But you do get awfully wet. And the very act of trying to take a drink becomes more refreshing that, perhaps, you thought possible.

30 things that thrill me - Day 14

Babies with cool hats.

My friend, Jackie Palmer, recently began a new business, Baby Toppers. She makes one-of-a-kind hats for infants. They are, in a word, amazing. Her marketing plan is made easier, I suppose, since Jackie is also a gifted photographer. She is an artist, frankly, that happens to work in multiple mediums: yarn and film.

Makes me wish I was a grandpa. (Nothing even remotely suggestive here, Weller children. I'll wait patiently.)

30 things that thrill me - Day 13

Springtime in Kentucky.

I am on the road today headed to Northpoint Community Church in Alpharetta, Georgia with Wally and Rob. We're headed to the Drive Conference at Andy Stanley's church. Conferences like me inspire me and stoke my ministry fires.

We're traveling by car and stopped by Skyline Chili in Dry Ridge, Kentucky. Rob ate the four-way and Wally ate the five-way. I had three chili dogs.

As we were eating and watching the finish of the Kentucky / NC game, I looked out the window and noticed a pasture full of polled Hereford cattle. My grandpa raised a small herd of Herefords when I was growing up. Their roan colored bodies and white faces are cute as, well, a cow I guess. As I was plowing into my final chili dog I saw a calf skipping across the hillside toward its mother. As I finished my dinner, the calf began his.

There is something about a calf being let out of the barn in springtime that makes me want to skip along with him. My heart is light tonight.

30 things that thrill me - Day 12

Little kids that memorize movie lines.

Regularly readers of Frankly Speaking (I think there are four or five) will recall that I am a substitute school bus driver. After a year of subbing at Holt Schools, I just recently began having some really good conversations with my co-workers. They've begun asking questions about theology and sharing things they would like me to pray about. The Kingdom of God right there in the break room. I think that is where Jesus would be.

Not that it is without frustration. Yesterday I was taking a bus load of elementary students home and it wasn't going well. I am handed a route sheet with the names and addresses of students as well as directions for the route. The problem is, I don't know which students are on, and which students are not.

It is a Friday afternoon, so the students are amped up. I arrive at my first stop and activate my warning lights only to hear, "They aren't on." I proceed. Next stop - same thing. Third stop, ditto. I can see that it is going to take a long time to get home, so I ask if there is a student helper that would like to assist me. Someone volunteers, but it turns out that she doesn't know Jefferson from Washington - the Presidents or the streets. Frustration builds. I am tense.

Then Matt, a kid with autism stands up. I see him in the mirror and am about to tell him to be seated when he looks at me and, with his best Emperor Palpatine voice says, "I feel your anger."

The kid just cracks me up.

I look at him and gravely intone, "I am a Jedi," and then waving my hand from left to right, "But you don't believe me." He replies, "Commander, you may fire when ready."

Now I am a little worried. Maybe he is a Jedi. For the rest of the trip Matt is quoting star wars lines and even cackling like the Emperor in Revenge of the Sith.

What a great afternoon.

30 things that thrill me - Day 11

Looking forward.

This morning revealed a one-eighth layer of ice on the windshield of my car, requiring about five minutes of scraping before I could head out to work. Wait a minute! I thought Spring began on Monday, What gives with the snow and ice?

If there is anything I have learned in my three years, seven months and twenty-three days since moving to Michigan it is that winter is a season to be survived. There are those hale and hearty souls that embrace the cold. They can't wait to get the parkas out of the closet and throw the boots on the cold air return. For them, a garage full of snowmobiles, a hole in the ice, and a ski rack on the roof of the car are pulse accelerants.

Not me.  I've had to learn the art of looking forward to survive winter.

Here is how it works.

First, one must avoid looking forward too soon. November 1st is the earliest one can begin the anticipatory glance. About the time the last maple leaf hits the ground thoughts naturally turn to hunting season. Any early frost or chilly pre-winter morning is mitigated by thoughts of killing "the big buck." These ruminations turn bitter, though, about lunch time on November 16th when you realize you're going to have to freeze your butt off for another week before you get a shot at a doe, let alone something with antlers.

But by that time you've already started looking ahead to Thanksgiving. Football. Turkey. Football. Mashed potatoes. Football. Sweet potato pie. Football. Dessert. And, football. By the time the Lions are nearing the conclusion of their annual Thanksgiving Day Thumping, the strategists among your family are already looking forward to Christmas. (Kicked off, naturally, by the annual morning after shopping binge on black Friday.) Thoughts of sugar plums and gaily colored packages even foster a hope for snow, a white Christmas filled with family, tradition and consumerism.

For many, the post-Christmas period is the beginning of the long winter's depressive marathon. Not for me. I'm already looking forward to the playoffs. The Colts are generally in the hunt for an AFC title and a trip to the Superbowl. If they falter, as they did last year, however, I can still look forward to hating the Steelers and their fans, the combine IQ of which scarcely reaches into four digits.

If God smiles on Peyton and the boys, this anticipation will carry me all the way into the second week of February, by which time I am able to look forward to March Madness - sixty-eight teams all straining to cut down the nets and have their upraised fists featured in the final frame of "One Shining Moment." Sparty is out this year, but I am still rooting for the Butler Bulldogs.

By the time Duke (I hate them too) wins another national championship in Houston on April 4th, I should be getting the blades on the mower sharpened and raking the detritus from the lawn in anticipation of Turf Wars 2011 - The Battler of the Dog Bombs. And, with the break in the weather, I will once again be able to live in the moment and stop looking so far ahead in order to maintain my sanity.

Looking forward. Try it some time.

NOTE - No, I don't hate anybody. I was using hyperbole. Pastors aren't allowed to hate - except the Devil. And rock music. And dancing. And alcohol. And, possibly Democrats. (Again, hyperbole.)

30 things that thrill me - Day 10

Wonder bread.

If your house is like ours, you're probably trying to be more careful about what you eat. A few months ago our doctor gave us a simple rule: don't eat anything that is white. Now, I don't think she was talking about cauliflower and milk so much. Rather, she was talking about bread and pasta and the like. We have tried to follow that rule by eating more whole grain pasta, whole wheat bread and even whole grain tortillas.

I've been stuck with whole wheat bread since childhood. Grandma Weller always had Roman Meal on hand at her house. I hated it. It is hard to say which tasted worse - Grandma's Roman Meal or the Lumberjack bread that my dad favored. I didn't know you could make bread with sawdust; I didn't know bread was supposed to crunch when you ate it.

Nowadays I don't mind the crunchy bread as much. It's tasty enough and, if it is better for me, then great.

Today, though, when I went to the bread outlet to pick up a couple of loaves I was disappointed (okay, not really) to find that they were out of the good-for-you stuff. They had dozens of loaves of Wonder Bread, though. White wrappers. Multi-colored dots. Memory filled.

I was tempted to untwist the tie right there and take a big whiff. Thinking that the clerk might wonder what a forty-three-year-old dude was doing with his head stuck in a plastic wrapper, though, I waited until I got home and had supper. Tracy made pot roast and veggies and it was great. I pulled out a couple of slices and dipped them in the au jus. Oh. My. Goodness. A super-tasty carb-filled trip down memory lane.

It is a small thing, and I expect that I'll be back chewing oats again pretty soon. (Much sooner when the boys find out there is Wonder in the pantry.) I'm pretty certain that a little bit of bleached flour isn't gonna kill me. I'm not going to make a habit of it.

Now, if I can just find some butter and colby cheese . . .

30 things that thrill me - Day 9

Worms on the sidewalk.

The warmer weather and the rain flushed the worms from their tunnels this morning - yet another portent of Spring. Our Children's Minister, Betty Allen, is deathly afraid of worms. Occasionally the twenty foot stretch between the back door of our office wing and the parking lot is littered with the drowning creatures. When that happens, Betty tip-toes to her car like the parking lot is a minefield.

Of course, she does not have to brave the horror this morning. She is enjoying the sunny, warm weather of Bern, North Carolina with her husband, Dana - a gift in recognition of her tenth anniversary as a staff person at South Lansing Christian Church.

As for me, I'm content to know that today is the first day of Spring and, even if its not quite warm enough for my taste, the worms know that winter is behind us.

30 things that thrill me - Day 8

The first robin of Spring.

I saw my first robin as I was leaving South Lansing Christian Church today. As much as any other sign that warm weather is approaching, the "first robin" has been the traditional portent of spring in our family for as long as I can remember. There is something about seeing that bright orange breast and bright eye that makes me want to put the winter coat in the storage and break out the shorts.

We're a few weeks away from that, of course. But Spring is definitely on her way!

30 things that thrill me - Day 7

Hearing, "Cancer free!"

My buddy, Luke F.

My friend Sean has a five-year-old son named Luke. Luke is cancer free, but that was not always the case. Two Decembers ago Monica, Luke's mom, was giving then three-year-old Luke a bath when she noticed a small lump on his hip. She made a Thursday morning appointment with their pediatrician to have it checked out. By Saturday Luke was an inpatient at the University of Michigan receiving his first round of chemotherapy.

His cancer was something called, rhabdomyosarcoma, a nasty cancer that seems to attack mostly little boys. Christmas was spent trying to explain to their son why he had to be in the hospital and trying to put on a brave face for their family and friends who had to bring Luke's presents to a pediatric cancer ward. n short, it was a nightmare. Monica was finishing up her doctoral dissertation at the time. She and Sean had another little boy at home to care for. Time and again they made the trek from East Lansing to Ann Arbor for Luke's treatment.

Sean remembers, "I learned to pray really strange prayers. I learned to pray about white-cell counts and shrinking tumors. Since Luke's immune system was weakened, we stayed home a lot so he wouldn't get sick. A common cold, for him, could be deadly."

Three months ago, Sean, Monica and Luke celebrated Christmas 2010 cancer free. While Luke has to go to Ann Arbor from time to time to monitor his progress, doctors are optimistic that Luke is cured.


Luke is the reason I am shaving my head in two weeks. St. Baldrick's is a charitable organization that is dedicated to raising money for pediatric cancer research. The are determined to give researchers the funding and tools that they need to insure that all of the Lukes in this world can win their battle against cancer.


Would you help me help St. B's help kids like Luke by going to my St. Baldrick's page and pledging $10 or $20 to help in this fight? Please, help me help other kids hear the two most amazing words of their young life: "Cancer free!" Thanks.

30 things that thrill me - Day 6

Being on the "B" team.

I led worship this Sunday at South Lansing Christian Church. Wally was hosting the Michigan Statewide Teen Convention, so I got the nod.

Here's the thing: Wally Lowman is one of the most gifted worship leaders I've known. What is more, he is the most gifted worship leader I have ever personally worked with. That isn't just praise from a starry-eyed preacher either. I was trained as a worship leader and led worship in two churches for nearly ten years before being called to preach. When I came to South I owned a couple of guitars and had a whole file full of worship  music. Six months in I sold both by guitars and bought a deer rifle. Wally's just that good.

So Sunday I got to play with the worship band. Dr. Joe and Tim played guitar; Carey was on bass; Jared Harris, a college student played keys and my son, Caleb, was on drums. My daughter and three of her friends from GLCC sang background vocals. In other words, it was an "A" band with a "B" leader. And I loved every minute of it!

One might think that, with the "A" preacher subbing as the "B" worship leader, the preaching might be sub-par. Nope. South's Director of LifE Groups, Greg Steere preached, and did so with exceptional clarity and transparency. People were genuinely moved to consider their life and doctrine and how they match up to what God desires. People will be talking about Sunday, March 13, 2011 for some time, and it won't be because I pinch hit for Wally.

Every Senior Minister approaches days "out of the pulpit" with mixed emotions. One is naturally grateful for the chance to be refreshed, and one welcomes the opportunity for the congregation to hear a different voice proclaim the same truth. But every preacher I know secretly wonders, "What if the congregation hears better preaching from that guy than they do from me?"

Truth be told, I believe SLCC heard a highlight sermon on Sunday. Our folks will be eager for Wally's return this week. And I am excited to preach this week. I suppose I could wrestle with some insecurities - who wouldn't with Greg's sermon fresh in the memories of the faithful. But truth be told, I am just grateful to have so great an "A" team that I am, from time to time, able to be on the second string.

30 things that thrill me - Day 5

Doctrinal disagreements discussions.

I enjoyed chatting with Soren this morning. We had a wide-ranging, spirited discussion about topics of concern in the Restoration Movement. The role of women. Is baptism necessary for salvation? Are Standard Publishing, Orchard Group, and CDF forming a triumvirate that is planning to take over the world?

Good stuff.

It has been interesting to see how Mike and I have changed over the years. When we were younger, we were a bit more fired up, I think. Mike remembers a confrontation I initiated after he preached at The Northmen the first time. (I was right, by the way.) Over time I think we have both softened some - not necessarily in our doctrine, but certainly in our dogmatism.

The thing is, I think Mike is right. Baptism is necessary for salvation - at least as necessary as repentance, or confessing the name of Jesus Christ, or as believing in Jesus or persevering to the end. Then again, when I talk with - we would call them - "denominational friends," they're quite sure that they're right; all I have to do to be saved is believe.

The folks at Willow Creek Community Church have women elders; so do a handful of Christian Churches. Some would say that, while the Ephesus Christian Church didn't allow their women to "speak or have authority over a man" that the church in Rome went another direction and permitted women to lead. Lately, I lean a little more toward Rome; Soren leans more toward Ephesus.

Some people run from even a hint of conflict. When the theological claws come out, they hide under the bed with the other scaredy-cats. And that's okay. Conflict, especially the church variety, can be particularly virulent if unrestrained. A little bit now and then, though, is a good thing, I think. It reminds us that doctrine matters. It matters because God matters, God's Word matters, and how we respond to it matters.

So, in spite of our occasional friendly needling about the 5% of issues where we might differ, I thank God - not just for where we agree - but for the whole 100%.

30 things that thrill me - Day 4

National Preaching Summit.

I am at the National Preaching Summit in Indianapolis, Indiana for two days of stoking my preaching fire. This is an annual event that is designed by preachers for preachers. I can't help but get jacked up about the proclamation of the gospel when I come here.

This year's lineup is solid! Ben Cachiaras, Bob Russell, Billy Strother and Ben Merold are not only solid preaching practitioners, but are able to teach others how to do what they do. Here are some nuggets of what we've heard so far:

Bob Russell on the need for more preachers - "We need to become a preacher producing machine in the next ten years in our brotherhood."

Dr. Billy Strother - "We cannot preach to the wounded unless we just let Jesus have us."

Ben Cachiaras - "This one thing that we're charged with, this stewardship of the mysteries of God is the most important thing we can do."

I am privileged to share this seminar with five students from Great Lakes Christian College. These young men are part of the Advanced Homiletics class that I teach there. Hearing some legends teach about preaching and watching these guys soak it all up is inspiring.

If you're a preacher and have not taken in a NPS, mark down next year's dates (March 12-13) and plan to attend.

30 things that thrill me - Day 3

The wonderful "seasoned citizens" at South Lansing Christian Church.

The older folks that attend the church where I preach are some of the most graceful people I have ever had the pleasure to know. They are supportive. They are faithful - both to God and to their church. They are committed to growing in their faith even when many of their peers have locked into spiritual cruise control.

If I could identify a characteristic that makes them uniquely special, however, it is their flexibility.

Their generation has experienced more changes that mine can possibly imagine. They've had a front row seat as they have watched the everyday conveniences and amazing gadgets that we take for granted go from the stuff of comic books to reality. The church has not been exempt from the changes that they have observed and, in some cases, endured, either.

Nowhere have these changes been more dramatic than in the church's music. And, in this respect, our older church members have demonstrated amazing patience and flexibility. I have been told this several times since coming to Lansing, but a video from a fellow preacher's blog drew a sharp contrast between the good folks here and the . . . well, watch the video and decide for yourself.

To be fair, I don't know this dear woman. I don't know the church, the music or the situation. On the other hand, I think every preacher knows this woman. She makes demands and cloaks them as a plaintive request. She issues threats and then wraps them in a pietistic, "We're praying for you."

Our folks aren't that way. Years ago, when our church was transitioning to a more contemporary style of worship music, our leaders communicated with these stakeholders frequently. This dialogue helped immensely, but what really made the difference was the attitude our older constituency had as characterized by one woman who said, "I can't say that I like the new music as much as the old, but when I look around me and see all the young people here worshiping, I understand and support what you're doing."

That's not to say we've always got it right. We haven't. We've had to break out the decibel meter from time to time. And, on occasion, we've had good people urge us to do so more frequently. But the men and women who have talked to us about our volume and variety in our worship sets have always done so with respect and grace.

Thank God for them.

30 things that thrill me - Day 2

That shrinky stuff that you put on electronical wires.

Did some work tonight on my MacBook Pro power adapter. It bit the dust the other day - the second one to do so in three years. My co-worker, Wally, says it is because I am too hard on them, and he is probably right. He has had the same one for five years now. To that I say, I have had the same wife for nearly 25 years, Wally, and she is better than ever, so there!

Anyway, Wally suggested I check out iFixit.com as they have a procedure for fixing everything on the MacBook. Everything but the power supply.

So I did what any self respecting redneck would do. I went to the garage, fired up the Dremel tool and started cutting. Ten minutes later I had the case cracked and found the broken wire. With a little help from a soldering iron, some red electrical tape left over from my son's drumstick wrapping stash and some patience, I had it back together in record time.

My favorite part of the repair, however, was when I got to use that shrinky stuff that you put on wires for insulation. I don't know if you've ever used it, but it is the electricians' equivalent to the shrinky-dinks you played with when you were a kid.

You just slide it on and hit it with the heat gun and shlllip, it form fits to the repaired wire. I love the stuff. I know that makes me weird. But at least I am not as weird as the dude who wrote a Wikipedia entry about the stuff. Now that guy (or girl) has some issues.

Remember, its the little things.

30 things that thrill me - Day 1

I'll admit it. I am easily impressed, easily appeased. Easily . . . happified.

In fact, it is often the littlest things that make me the happiest. That is not to say that big things don't make me happy, too. They do, of course. So if you're thinking about buying me a new iPad2, I'll take the 3G, 32 GB version thank you very much!

And yet, little things suffice. So, in celebration of the little things that make me happy, I will be celebrating one per day, for the next thirty days.


Day One - The end of the double space.

According to Farhad Manjoo, it is not only no longer necessary to hit the space bar twice after punctuation, but rather, it is unacceptable. Thank goodness. No more having to remember if I did or not. No more lopsided right index finger (I never had Ms. Mavis so take it easy.) Just one simple, elegant space.

Thank you Manjoo. Oh . . . love the surname, by the way. Any name with "man" in it sounds pretty cool.  Mandolin, Mannequin, Manitoba, Manistee, Mandarin oranges. . . . you . . . "the man."

The Presence

On Mt. Sinai, Moses told God, "Your presence among us sets your people and me apart from all other people on the earth." (Exodus 33:16)

The presence of God is what still sets us apart from all the people of the earth. If God is not in our midst then we are, at best, a civic organization dedicated to the alleviation of the temporal worldly suffering of those with whom we share this journey. At worst, though, we are a cult, deluded and hubris-filled.

With God in our midst, however, we are an unstoppable army of altruistic warriors poised to take on evil and injustice in whatever form we encounter it. We assault the gates of hell with the supreme confidence that comes from knowing that our God is with us and none can stand against us.

And so I say, together with Moses, " . . . show me your glorious presence."

Reveal yourself to your church, Lord.

Your plans.

Your nature.

Your surpassing greatness and glory.

Reveal yourself so that we glow from the encounter and those who observe us will see the radiance of our countenance and say, "They have been with the Lord."

Christmas for Savannah

Eleven-year-old Savannah has a very short Christmas list this year. No iPod. No DVDs or gift cards. No new-fangled electronic gadgets. This year Savannah just wants her mom to come home from the hospital.

Readers of Frankly Speaking know that I am a chaplain with the Lansing Police Department. Acting in that capacity I have encountered hundreds of interesting people and had experiences I never expected. Some have been a blessing; some have been heart rending.

Last week I was assigned with an officer to "sit on" a prisoner in the emergency room at Ingham Regional Medical Center. In the room next door was Samantha, a thirty-something mom that was in a lot of pain.

Nearly a year ago Samantha had a failed surgery on her bladder. She has been housebound ever since. Although she hoped to be able to stay home until after the holidays, the pain became too great and she found herself in the ER awaiting admission into the hospital.

I met Samantha and her mother, Linda. We talked about her struggle. She showed me pictures of her daughter, Savannah. We prayed together. She cried.

Earlier today I got a call that Samantha had a seven hour reconstructive surgery on her bladder two days ago. Though hopes are high that she will finally be able to get healthy, the surgery and a several day long hospital stay have put a major kink in her Christmas plans.

Naturally, Samantha has not been able to shop for gifts for her daughter. When I spoke with her mom (Savannah's grandmother) on the phone she told me that Samantha was upset that she could not get any gifts for her daughter for Christmas. She was discouraged because she was going to be spending Christmas in a hospital bed.

Any chance we can intervene in this situation? Is it possible that, even at this late hour, that we might be able to encourage this family an unexpected and unanticipated blessing?

I would love it if, when Savannah comes to visit her mom on Christmas morning, she would find a hospital bed covered in gifts and a mother smiling from ear to ear because she was able to do what moms do each Christmas - make her daughter smile.

This time of year you get lots of requests for this sort of thing. Maybe you're tapped out. That's okay. Just say a prayer for Samantha and Savannah. But maybe you've got five or ten dollars that you wouldn't mind sending their way. Maybe you've got more than that.

If you do, shoot me an email at frank@frankweller.com Tomorrow I will head out to the mall and spend what you pledge to give and you can pay me when you see me, or send the money to:

Frank Weller
South Lansing Christian Church
6300 Aurelius Rd.
Lansing, MI 48911
(Put Christmas for Savannah in the memo line)

Lots of folks worship Jesus this time of year - as it should be. Thank you for also being Jesus. Merry Christmas.

One and the same?

Left, Actor Cody Burger, a.k.a. Rocky from Christmas Vacation. Right, Chumlee from Pawn Stars. Same person? Hmmmmmmmm.

Remembering you, Grandma . . .

My sister, Tina, wrote this to remember our grandmother, who passed away earlier this week. It eulogizes her more beautifully than I ever could:

When I remember you, Grandma, the first thing that comes to mind is you in your kitchen. I can see you rushing around, lighting the stove to put on your homemade applesauce in your old enamel pan. Or, you’re poaching Grandpa’s eggs for breakfast, while the toaster does its job on the kitchen table. Or perhaps you’re pulling a Chef Boyardee pizza out of the oven, the ones you always covered with hotdog pieces and hamburger for us grandkids. Or, if we’re really lucky, you’ve just pulled out a rhubbarb custard pie or sugar cookies. Those recipes will live on in our family for generations to come. But your pickled beet recipe didn’t make the cut. Aunt Alice’s is so much easier and none of us can taste the difference. But we didn’t have the heart to tell you.

I can see your red cart right behind you. The one you kept all the newspapers on. Of course, you’re wearing one of your 50s aprons and your hairnet. I can’t see a hairnet without thinking of you or the lunch lady at the cafeteria. You did work as a dietician at Byran, you know.

I see you sitting down for a moment to read the Clipper or the Evening Star and have a sip of Coke. Of course, you don’t sit down for very long. There are dishes to be done, so you stack them up and carry them to the laundry room sink. Heaven forbid that you should wash them in the kitchen sink! I think I can count on one hand the number of times you let me wash them there. And that was only because I badgered you so.

We knew that we could always count on you for a great snack. Your kitchen frig also had a horn of colby in it from the Countyline Cheese Factory. You had the Nabisco saltines to go with the cheese in the tin in the kitchen cupboard by the toaster. The frig in the back room was always full of pop for us, right beside your Coke classics. Then there was the front room candy stash. You kept more than sufficiently supplied with Snickers midgits and Brach’s candy mix.

Remember when you used to babysit us? We’d work with you in the garden or collect eggs together. Peacock feathers too. We’d sort them all with you in the backroom, after a cold drink from the tin cup on the back porch. And, when I was really little, you’d put me down for a nap in the bathtub in the pink bathroom. That tub was only for naps, as far as I could tell. A child of the Great Depression, you were. So, we all took our showers in the basement, in the same room with your great stores of canned veggies, juice, and jams. I still use your pressure canner here in Guinea. It will undoubtedly out last us both.

I also still have the Mother of Pearl broche that you brought me back from Israel. Who would have guessed you to be a world traveler? But you brought home souvenir plates from Paris and a camel picture to prove it. You ate at the Varsity in Atlanta and rode on the train in the Florida Everglades. Cancun with Jerry and Alice. The Black Hills in South Dakota. It’s too bad that I never asked you about your visit to the Great Wall in China before you and Grandpa married. Not bad at all for a country girl from DeKalb County, Indiana.

You always used to scare Aunts Florene and Bernice when you’d “Shoot the Moon” in Eucre. Your style of dealing cards was scary too, almost as much as your driving when I was in high school. You liked to have fun. It makes me smile to remember your laugh. My favorite picture of you is the one with you and Grandpa laughing at Christmas. You still had on your apron from cooking the ham or baking the pies.

Remember all those hot summer nights, cranking homemade ice cream together on the back porch? My favorites were the peach and strawberry. Or, those times of eating corn-on-the cob and watermelon for supper. We wouldn’t go in until it was dark and the stars came out. You taught me to take joy in the simple things of life, like a good meal and a breeze blowing on my face. That lesson has served me well.

You loved animals, just like Grandpa did. I remember you feeding the calves and your old dog Pete. I remember you putting up your birdhouse every summer for the starlings, then hanging up tin pie pans in the cherry tree to scare the birds away. You always had a watchdog and usually half a dozen cats in the barn to eat the meal scraps.

I remember you getting all dressed up to go out. You might be going out to eat at the Factory with Grandpa. (I’ll never understand why you chose cottage cheese for your salad.) Or, maybe it was to church. Whatever the occasion, the process was usually the same: It started with your girdle and panty hoses. Why you thought you needed the girdle, none of us will ever understand. Then your outfit: it was usually a skirt, light colored blouse, and a jacket. My personal favorite was the rose one you wore for the 4 generation picture when Abby was a baby. Then you’d dig out one of your pocket books from the coat closet by the back door. Then it was to the back room to pick out your hair, if it had been too many days since you had it fixed at Donnas. Then lipstick, usually from an Avon trial tub. With no more than that, you always ended up looking great! There’s no more need for you to dress up now. You’re radiant in the glory of God’s presence.

Grandma, remember that I loved you. We all did. I’ll always remember Grandpa taking his wedding ring from the tray on top of the frig and popping in on before he went out with you. You were his wife. And the tombstone he picked out to share with you shows that he was sweet on you to the end.

You were Grandpa’s wife, Dad’s mother, and my Grandmother. And the next time that I get to talk with you, I won’t have to dial 357-3223. Nor will our reminiscing be encumbered by your memory loss and the many miles that physically separated us since I left home. We’ll be in heaven together. I’ll be the one with the can of Diet Coke from Guinea, and you’ll be sipping on your Coke classic.

Don't read this book . . .

If you comfortable with your faith and want to stay that way.

If you like your creature comforts.

If you would rather not be discomforted by poverty. By famine. By disease.

If you want to grab your piece of the American Dream.

If you have it all planned out.

If you want Jesus to be Savior but not necessarily Lord.

If you don't want to read words like these:

If Mark 10 teaches us anything, it teaches us that Jesus does sometimes call people to sell everything they have and give it to the poor. This means he might call you or me to do this. I love the way one writer put it. He wrote, "That Jesus did not command all his followers to sell all their possessions gives comfort only to the kind of people to whom he would issue that command."

So what about you and me? Are we willing to ask God if he wants us to sell everything we have and give the money to the poor? Are we willing to ask and wait for an answer instead of providing one of our own or justifying our ideas of why he would never tell us to do this? This seems a bit radical, but isn't it normal and expected when we follow a Master who said, "Any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple"?

Once again we find ourselves back at what it means to follow the Jesus of the Bible, not the Jesus we have created and are comfortable with. The rich man in Mark 10 didn't see Jesus for who he was. The rich man perceived him as a respectable religious figure, calling him "good teacher." However, Jesus was not, and never is, interested in being seen as a respectable teacher. He is the sovereign Lord. He doesn't give options for people to consider, he gives commands for people to obey.

So, then, what if he told you and me to sell everything we have? What if he told us to sell our cars for more modest ones - or for no cars at all? What if he told us to give away all but a couple of sets of clothes? What if he told us to empty the savings accounts we have been building for years if not decades? What if he told us to change our lifestyles completely?

Now, before you and I think of all the reasons he would not tell us to do these things, we need to think about this question first: is he Lord?

Are you and I looking to Jesus for advice that seems fiscally responsible according to the standards of the world around us? Or we are looking to Jesus for total leadership in our lives, even if that means going against everything our affluent culture and maybe even our affluent religious neighbors might tell us to do?

Jesus never intended to be one voice among many counseling us on how to lead our lives and use our money. He always intends to be the voice that guides whatever decisions we make in our lives and with our money.

Can't say I didn't warn you.