I can remember when my family got their first television, when I was a kid. Before that I used to sit and listen to programs on the radio. Danny Orlis stories, on Saturday mornings, were my favorite. For years and years the picture on the TV was black and white. Color TV and color movies were quite the invention. I learned to type on an electric typewriter at school. But at home we still had a manual typewriter. In my first car, a 1964 Chevy pickup, I installed the latest, greatest new sound system, an eight track tape player. A few years later it became hopelessly outdated so I updated to a cassette player, and then several more years later, a CD player. The centerpiece of my first prized home audio system was a belt-drive turntable. It played music off of a big round black vinyl disc with grooves in it.
I had been a pastor for over ten years before I got my first computer. It was so slow I would turn it on in the morning and go make a pot of coffee and come back to see if it had booted up yet. All it did for me was word processing. I suppose it could have run other programs, too, but I was slow to get on board. I don’t know that I ever got on the internet until about the turn of the millennium, when I came to work at Eagle Fern. I had heard about it, and everyone was incredibly excited about the newest revolution in techno electronics.
To make copies in the old days we used a spirit duplicator machine, or a mimeograph machine if you could afford it. The first copy machines were like an invention on par with the first printing press. Then came color copiers, fax machines, e-mail.
But, wow!! Technological development in the last ten years has been incredulous. Dial up internet went to high-speed internet, analog gave way to digital. Fiber optics move information at the speed of light. Search engines put information, images, and videos within the click of a mouse button. Much of it extremely helpful, but much of it morally destructive. Cell phones have replaced home phones. Texting has become the norm. High speed became 3G, then 4G. Laptops, wireless, skype, Ipod, Ipad, Iphone, broadband, paperless, google, high definition, self-publishing, blogs, twitter, video games, youtube, social networking, eCommerce, online banking, cloud computing – the development is like a tsunami. Not one wave, but wave after wave, after wave.
And most of us, particularly the younger generation, think that this is normal. That this is the way it’s always been. That this kind of invention and development is how the world has always progressed. Not so. This is unparalleled. And it is scary, too, if you think of all the ramifications upon our youth and young adults, all the hideous uses of this technology, all the driving forces behind this development, and all the potential for government and global control of commerce and enterprise.
Is this unparalleled development foreseen by the God of the universe? Was he aware that the incredible intelligence and creativity of the human mind, which He created, could lead humanity into a culture so dominated by electronic and technological advances? Did he foresee and foretell this very era?
Yes he did. Somewhat cryptic and ambiguous. But yes, God told us it was coming. In apocalyptic, symbolic visions, God revealed it to John, the apostle. Revelation 13:11-18 is that prophecy. And we would be wise to see it and to understand it, and to heed it. Not in fear and isolation, but in hope and in holiness.
“This calls for wisdom. If anyone has insight, let him calculate the number of the beast, for it is man’s number.” (Revelation 13:18)
March 30, 2010
March 25, 2010
Lessons From A Soccer Son
He was only ten years old and he brought a hush over the entire crowd as he executed a perfect bicycle kick from the sideline to a team mate in front of the goal. A few years earlier I can remember him as a pee-wee player. He waited patiently as his team was getting beat goal after goal after goal. Finally the frustration got the better of him. He took the ball to himself, didn’t think of passing to a team mate, wove and dribbled through the other team and went down and slapped a shot into the net. But only once. Out of frustration he had to show the other team, and his own team, that it could be done. We can score. We just have to want it. I kind of wanted him to keep doing it, to dominate the game, to show he was the best player out there. Maybe so I could strut after the game and say, “That’s my boy!” But he didn’t. He settled back down, preferring that his team do it together.
In high school he began to excel at defense. In his very first year his team went to the state playoffs and in three games the opposing teams could not score a goal. His team advanced and won 3rd place in the state, winning several games in a shootout. His team mates selected him and the goalie as their MVP for the season. Throughout high school he helped several more teams, both school and club, go to state playoffs, state semi-finals, and state championship games. His first and only year of playing college soccer his team came one game short of going to the national play-offs. When his coach called to see whether he was going to continue in college he told me that he would miss him greatly. He said that he was probably the best entering freshman he had ever recruited in over twenty years of coaching. I marveled at times. He had an innate ability to help his team play above their ability. He didn’t know he was doing it, he just wanted the team to excel, and helped lift them up.
Teamwork, simply stated, is this: Less of me, more of we. No stealing the show to yourself. No room for pride. No slacking off and expecting others to carry your load. Rather, striving to make others excel. Seeing the whole picture, not merely your cubicle. Helping and encouraging the weaker team member. Sharing the success and glory with every team member. Covering the back of the one who falters. Trusting others to cover your back. Playing to the strength of others and not criticizing their weakness. Sacrificing so that others may succeed and improve.
One of the greatest thrills this Dad has enjoyed were the many, many soccer games I’ve watched my sons play. But beyond the thrill was the realization that even I was learning a lesson, the importance of teamwork, while watching my soccer son.
“In Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. (Romans 12:5-6)
In high school he began to excel at defense. In his very first year his team went to the state playoffs and in three games the opposing teams could not score a goal. His team advanced and won 3rd place in the state, winning several games in a shootout. His team mates selected him and the goalie as their MVP for the season. Throughout high school he helped several more teams, both school and club, go to state playoffs, state semi-finals, and state championship games. His first and only year of playing college soccer his team came one game short of going to the national play-offs. When his coach called to see whether he was going to continue in college he told me that he would miss him greatly. He said that he was probably the best entering freshman he had ever recruited in over twenty years of coaching. I marveled at times. He had an innate ability to help his team play above their ability. He didn’t know he was doing it, he just wanted the team to excel, and helped lift them up.
Teamwork, simply stated, is this: Less of me, more of we. No stealing the show to yourself. No room for pride. No slacking off and expecting others to carry your load. Rather, striving to make others excel. Seeing the whole picture, not merely your cubicle. Helping and encouraging the weaker team member. Sharing the success and glory with every team member. Covering the back of the one who falters. Trusting others to cover your back. Playing to the strength of others and not criticizing their weakness. Sacrificing so that others may succeed and improve.
One of the greatest thrills this Dad has enjoyed were the many, many soccer games I’ve watched my sons play. But beyond the thrill was the realization that even I was learning a lesson, the importance of teamwork, while watching my soccer son.
“In Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. (Romans 12:5-6)
March 18, 2010
Easter Fire
Old lady Leary took a lantern to the shed,
And when the cow kicked it over
She turned around and said,
There’ll be a hot time in the ole town tonight.
I wasn’t planning to invite them, but they all showed up. Half the town of Estacada, it seemed. Now it’s typical for a few folk to show up at a fire. But here’s how to get a mob. Call 911 to report a fire while the fire department is hosting an Easter egg hunt. The whole community, all the kids and their families, were in the local high school football stadium for the big event. The news spread like wildfire.
It was the day before Easter, April, 2004. There was a stiff east wind that day, probably 20 miles an hour, steady, at times. The kind of wind I had grown to dread. I had burned more burn piles and slash rows that winter than any tree farmer in the county, I am certain. But I hadn’t burned any piles for several weeks, not since the last big scare.
That Saturday morning I was working with the tractor moving piles of firewood and cleaning up brush. It was a good thing that I happened to be there working that day. Really, really good. I noticed smoke coming out of the old burn pile that had burned two weeks earlier. That pile had been about the size of a small house when I first lit it up, when it first gave me problems and tried to go out of control. But this was two weeks later. And here it was smoldering and getting stirred up again. Soon I could see some flames and I knew embers must be blowing in the wind. So I decided to go over and check on it. I took my shovel and went to inspect and quickly noticed that the embers were blowing downwind and starting lots of little spot fires -- in old rotten stumps, in dry grass, and in lots of ground duff left over from logging and clearing. I ran around with the shovel trying to throw dirt on them but they were spreading way faster than I could control them. But I kept trying, kept running from fire to fire. It was futile. Pretty soon I saw some spot fires down the ravine heading for the neighbor’s woods. So I ran up to the renter’s house, bolted inside, and found their phone. Even they were at the Easter egg hunt. Fortunately they had left the house unlocked.
I also called home to have my boys come quick and help me control the fires. The fire department got there first, in time to spray foam on all the spot fires. I ran about showing them all the hot spots that they were missing. Pretty soon I collapsed from exhaustion and someone gave me a bottle of water. Then I noticed the boys, standing out of sight from the crowd. They didn’t know what to think. They didn’t want anyone to know they were related to that crazy guy who almost started a forest fire, the Estacada version of Old Lady Leary’s Chicago Fire.
All’s well that ends well. Right. It sure has made for some good stories.
“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)
I knew weary that day. Exhaustion. How many fires do I try to put out in life? When God has pumper trucks full of foam and the “manpower” needed to deal with any and every situation. Teach me Lord to wait upon You.
And when the cow kicked it over
She turned around and said,
There’ll be a hot time in the ole town tonight.
I wasn’t planning to invite them, but they all showed up. Half the town of Estacada, it seemed. Now it’s typical for a few folk to show up at a fire. But here’s how to get a mob. Call 911 to report a fire while the fire department is hosting an Easter egg hunt. The whole community, all the kids and their families, were in the local high school football stadium for the big event. The news spread like wildfire.
It was the day before Easter, April, 2004. There was a stiff east wind that day, probably 20 miles an hour, steady, at times. The kind of wind I had grown to dread. I had burned more burn piles and slash rows that winter than any tree farmer in the county, I am certain. But I hadn’t burned any piles for several weeks, not since the last big scare.
That Saturday morning I was working with the tractor moving piles of firewood and cleaning up brush. It was a good thing that I happened to be there working that day. Really, really good. I noticed smoke coming out of the old burn pile that had burned two weeks earlier. That pile had been about the size of a small house when I first lit it up, when it first gave me problems and tried to go out of control. But this was two weeks later. And here it was smoldering and getting stirred up again. Soon I could see some flames and I knew embers must be blowing in the wind. So I decided to go over and check on it. I took my shovel and went to inspect and quickly noticed that the embers were blowing downwind and starting lots of little spot fires -- in old rotten stumps, in dry grass, and in lots of ground duff left over from logging and clearing. I ran around with the shovel trying to throw dirt on them but they were spreading way faster than I could control them. But I kept trying, kept running from fire to fire. It was futile. Pretty soon I saw some spot fires down the ravine heading for the neighbor’s woods. So I ran up to the renter’s house, bolted inside, and found their phone. Even they were at the Easter egg hunt. Fortunately they had left the house unlocked.
I also called home to have my boys come quick and help me control the fires. The fire department got there first, in time to spray foam on all the spot fires. I ran about showing them all the hot spots that they were missing. Pretty soon I collapsed from exhaustion and someone gave me a bottle of water. Then I noticed the boys, standing out of sight from the crowd. They didn’t know what to think. They didn’t want anyone to know they were related to that crazy guy who almost started a forest fire, the Estacada version of Old Lady Leary’s Chicago Fire.
All’s well that ends well. Right. It sure has made for some good stories.
“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)
I knew weary that day. Exhaustion. How many fires do I try to put out in life? When God has pumper trucks full of foam and the “manpower” needed to deal with any and every situation. Teach me Lord to wait upon You.
March 8, 2010
Missed The Fire Call
The siren went off at 2:00 in the morning. I decided to stay in bed and skip the fire training exercise. I thought Chuck was taking it way too serious to do a training run in the middle of the night. The other guys in my staff cabin got up, threw on their clothes, and jumped on the truck as it passed by. An hour later, when they all came back, I found out I had missed out on a real fire. I missed the most exciting event of the summer.
Our camp, ten miles south of Prescott, Arizona, had a fire truck. And it was on call for the many cabins and the community nearby. We trained once or twice a week to be ready for a call. We would practice shooting a long stream to knock a fire out of the top of trees, or in a building. We practiced with a fine spray to put out brush fires. We practiced holding the nozzle, handling the hoses, manning the truck. One hot afternoon, while tending the truck valves, I decided to open an extra valve on top of the tank to get a drink. The pressure was so great it threw me back, I lost my balance, and had to jump off the top of the truck. The other guys laughed so hard they didn’t even think to check if I was hurt.
They laughed at me again when they go back from that 2:00 fire call. They had actually had the thrill of putting out a house fire. Probably the only time for any of us that we would ever have that opportunity. And I missed it.
I have often thought back to that missed fire call, and let it be a reminder to me to make the most of every opportunity. Both for life’s enjoyment, and for the kingdom of God. Every opportunity. You never know when it may be the only opportunity of your life.
Be very careful, then, how you live – not as unwise, but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is. (Ephesians 5:15-17)
Our camp, ten miles south of Prescott, Arizona, had a fire truck. And it was on call for the many cabins and the community nearby. We trained once or twice a week to be ready for a call. We would practice shooting a long stream to knock a fire out of the top of trees, or in a building. We practiced with a fine spray to put out brush fires. We practiced holding the nozzle, handling the hoses, manning the truck. One hot afternoon, while tending the truck valves, I decided to open an extra valve on top of the tank to get a drink. The pressure was so great it threw me back, I lost my balance, and had to jump off the top of the truck. The other guys laughed so hard they didn’t even think to check if I was hurt.
They laughed at me again when they go back from that 2:00 fire call. They had actually had the thrill of putting out a house fire. Probably the only time for any of us that we would ever have that opportunity. And I missed it.
I have often thought back to that missed fire call, and let it be a reminder to me to make the most of every opportunity. Both for life’s enjoyment, and for the kingdom of God. Every opportunity. You never know when it may be the only opportunity of your life.
Be very careful, then, how you live – not as unwise, but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is. (Ephesians 5:15-17)
March 1, 2010
Like A Child
She took me to the toy aisle and pointed out exactly what she wanted for her birthday. And I took note. She willingly and quietly came along with grandpa to do some grocery shopping. I even let her arrange things in the shopping cart. And she got to pick out the onions.
So I asked her, last thing, if there was anything she wanted in the store before we checked out. She first picked out a little tiny doll figure, then she asked me if she could show me one more thing. Her birthday was in just a few weeks, and she was looking forward to gifts. And what grandpa wouldn’t like to know exactly what his little girl wanted?
How refreshing it was to see the joy, the anticipation, and the humility of wanting and receiving a gift. When we get to be adults we become self-reliant, or we expect to earn everything we receive. Or we feel obligated to give something in return. But little Brianna was elated when she received that toy parrot that wiggled and danced with glee whenever a baby bottle touched its beak.
How do we receive God’s gift of love and grace? Or how about his gift of righteousness and redemption? Are we as humble and trusting as a child? Unpretentious? Full of hope and desire, of joy and satisfaction?
At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:1-4)
Not by merit do we impress our heavenly Father. Nor by our “greatness”. Rather He is pleased when we simply and humbly trust Him.
Like a child, I humbly receive your precious love.
Like a child, I rest and trust in your strong embrace.
Like a child, I am who I am in your courts above.
Like a child, my only hope is to live in your grace.
So I asked her, last thing, if there was anything she wanted in the store before we checked out. She first picked out a little tiny doll figure, then she asked me if she could show me one more thing. Her birthday was in just a few weeks, and she was looking forward to gifts. And what grandpa wouldn’t like to know exactly what his little girl wanted?
How refreshing it was to see the joy, the anticipation, and the humility of wanting and receiving a gift. When we get to be adults we become self-reliant, or we expect to earn everything we receive. Or we feel obligated to give something in return. But little Brianna was elated when she received that toy parrot that wiggled and danced with glee whenever a baby bottle touched its beak.
How do we receive God’s gift of love and grace? Or how about his gift of righteousness and redemption? Are we as humble and trusting as a child? Unpretentious? Full of hope and desire, of joy and satisfaction?
At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:1-4)
Not by merit do we impress our heavenly Father. Nor by our “greatness”. Rather He is pleased when we simply and humbly trust Him.
Like a child, I humbly receive your precious love.
Like a child, I rest and trust in your strong embrace.
Like a child, I am who I am in your courts above.
Like a child, my only hope is to live in your grace.
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