The amazing organization KARM has the videos about their 50th Anniversary Jubilee uploaded to YouTube. It was such a blessing to be a part of this production. Please take a look and support KARM any way you can.
Check out all the other videos here.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Hypocrites
We had some tree work done at our house this past weekend. Tree guys are definitely a different breed. One of the guys doing the work told me how he eats poison ivy leaves to "build up his immunity."
Like I said, these cats are a different breed.
But the poison ivy eating tree guy wasn't even the most memorable one. That distinction goes to a guy named Brian.
Brian has stage-4 cancer in his esophagus. While he still has a full head of hair, he is undergoing aggressive chemotherapy and radiation. He is rail thin and it looked as if every step he took caused him great pain.
Yet here he was, helping the guys up in the trees clear the brush and carry the branches out of the road. I felt bad that he was doing this work, but he insisted. Said "I don't really want to do it, but I want to do it..."
I knew exactly what he meant.
When they were done with the job and about to head out, I had a few moments to talk. I asked him about his cancer and what the doctors were saying. He said the outlook wasn't good, but he was going to fight with all he had.
I told him I'd be praying for him. He paused and looked down for several moments.
When he raised his head, he had a fire in his eyes that I hadn't seen all day. "You know, it's a damn shame that most churches are full of hypocrites."
I asked him what he meant and he told me a story that pains my heart just to think about it. He said he has been going back to church and trying to get more involved. This church that he has been attending has some type of mission to provide food and clothes for those in need. I got the sense that Bryan was definitely a hand to mouth type of guy, not that there's anything wrong with that. But he didn't have a home, and it seemed like whatever money he made was from the occasional odd job. Add in the stress and expense of dealing with stage 4 cancer and, well, the outlook isn't bright.
It seemed that Brian had gone to this church several times. He had been losing a great amount of weight, due to the cancer. He was rail thin when I saw him so this seemed very legit. Evidently the person at the church charged with giving out the clothes told Bryan he had "used up his allotment" and he wasn't welcome to any more items.
Now, I realize there are two sides to every story. And every church and non-profit has to gracefully deal with those who are out to game the system.
But really? There had to be a better way to deal with this situation. ESPECIALLY in a church. Somehow I can't see Jesus getting caught up with the fact someone in need had already passed through the line once.
Brian said it best, "I told the guy I'm already losing my life...now you're telling me that I can't even get a free pair of jeans that fit?! You need to find Jesus in your life!!"
Pray for Brian. That he his given strength as he battles his cancer. And that the next time he has an encounter in church, it is marked with more grace, mercy and compassion.
Like I said, these cats are a different breed.
But the poison ivy eating tree guy wasn't even the most memorable one. That distinction goes to a guy named Brian.
Brian has stage-4 cancer in his esophagus. While he still has a full head of hair, he is undergoing aggressive chemotherapy and radiation. He is rail thin and it looked as if every step he took caused him great pain.
Yet here he was, helping the guys up in the trees clear the brush and carry the branches out of the road. I felt bad that he was doing this work, but he insisted. Said "I don't really want to do it, but I want to do it..."
I knew exactly what he meant.
When they were done with the job and about to head out, I had a few moments to talk. I asked him about his cancer and what the doctors were saying. He said the outlook wasn't good, but he was going to fight with all he had.
I told him I'd be praying for him. He paused and looked down for several moments.
When he raised his head, he had a fire in his eyes that I hadn't seen all day. "You know, it's a damn shame that most churches are full of hypocrites."
I asked him what he meant and he told me a story that pains my heart just to think about it. He said he has been going back to church and trying to get more involved. This church that he has been attending has some type of mission to provide food and clothes for those in need. I got the sense that Bryan was definitely a hand to mouth type of guy, not that there's anything wrong with that. But he didn't have a home, and it seemed like whatever money he made was from the occasional odd job. Add in the stress and expense of dealing with stage 4 cancer and, well, the outlook isn't bright.
It seemed that Brian had gone to this church several times. He had been losing a great amount of weight, due to the cancer. He was rail thin when I saw him so this seemed very legit. Evidently the person at the church charged with giving out the clothes told Bryan he had "used up his allotment" and he wasn't welcome to any more items.
Now, I realize there are two sides to every story. And every church and non-profit has to gracefully deal with those who are out to game the system.
But really? There had to be a better way to deal with this situation. ESPECIALLY in a church. Somehow I can't see Jesus getting caught up with the fact someone in need had already passed through the line once.
Brian said it best, "I told the guy I'm already losing my life...now you're telling me that I can't even get a free pair of jeans that fit?! You need to find Jesus in your life!!"
Pray for Brian. That he his given strength as he battles his cancer. And that the next time he has an encounter in church, it is marked with more grace, mercy and compassion.
Friday, April 23, 2010
The Kindness of Strangers...and Gators
It's been two months now since I lost my job. Still no firm offer of full-time work. But in many ways I feel more hopeful about the situation than ever. That feeling has little to do with my new job opportunities, which frankly don't always seem that promising. It comes rather from the overwhelming kindness of strangers, friends and family.
Like the great Ben Harper sings, "You can be rich, and not have a dime."
This feeling comes from the countless job leads and prayers from those who know my situation.
It comes from cards in the mail from anonymous senders that contain gift cards for groceries.
It comes from a brother who loads up a Panera gift card for me because he knows I'll be spending a lot of time there.
It comes from my parents who tell me not to worry if I can't make my mortgage.
It comes from a Sunday School class full of people who spring into action the moment I sent an email saying I needed help.
It comes from my brotherhood of basketballers, who help me clear my mind on the court, and lift me up off of it.
It comes from one of my sisters, who is working two jobs as a single mom and still sends me a gift card for groceries.
It comes from my other sister who did the exact same thing.
It comes from a good friend, who's only discernible character flaw is his love of the Florida Gators. He and his wife not only gave us a gift card for groceries, but a portion of their tax refund.
Did I mention that he was a Florida Gator? And it's not Tim Tebow.
When you have a die-hard Gator lifting up a die-hard Vol like myself, why wouldn't I feel good about this whole thing working out?
God bless you all.
Like the great Ben Harper sings, "You can be rich, and not have a dime."
This feeling comes from the countless job leads and prayers from those who know my situation.
It comes from cards in the mail from anonymous senders that contain gift cards for groceries.
It comes from a brother who loads up a Panera gift card for me because he knows I'll be spending a lot of time there.
It comes from my parents who tell me not to worry if I can't make my mortgage.
It comes from a Sunday School class full of people who spring into action the moment I sent an email saying I needed help.
It comes from my brotherhood of basketballers, who help me clear my mind on the court, and lift me up off of it.
It comes from one of my sisters, who is working two jobs as a single mom and still sends me a gift card for groceries.
It comes from my other sister who did the exact same thing.
It comes from a good friend, who's only discernible character flaw is his love of the Florida Gators. He and his wife not only gave us a gift card for groceries, but a portion of their tax refund.
Did I mention that he was a Florida Gator? And it's not Tim Tebow.
When you have a die-hard Gator lifting up a die-hard Vol like myself, why wouldn't I feel good about this whole thing working out?
God bless you all.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Resurrection: Rob Bell
Happy and blessed Easter to you and yours. Rob Bell's latest work was released for free today on his Facebook page. Do take a moment to check it out when you can.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Building Through Breaking
Is it ever cool to be openly crying in a Panera?
I can speak from experience that the answer is no.
But there I was, tears streaming down my face. Feeling like my entire world was crumbling all around me. Feeling like the mayor of Loserville.
Let me set this up. Since my last post, my world has been and endless stream of frantic calls, interviews and frustrating run-arounds in trying to find a new job. The weight of my responsibility to my kids, my wife and my father-in-law who lives with us now, seemed heavier with each dead end. The knot in my stomach grew with each person who looked at my resume and said some variation of, "This looks great, but we just don't have anything right now..."
In my search, I adopted various Paneras around time as my temporary office. It's good for decent coffee, free wi-fi, and to meet with my connections and (soon to be!) employers. But after 3 weeks on the job hunt trail, even the staff at Panera seemed to wonder why I kept showing up.
So there I found myself, at Panera on the strip. It was Friday at 5:00. I was literally one of 2 or 3 customers in the place. I was waiting on a phone call where I was quite certain, I was going to be offered a job. I had finished a week's worth of interviews with the company. Everything in my gut told me I had it. I had every prayer warrior I know throwing up prayers on my behalf to the Big Guy.
But when the call came, the job offer didn't.
Ouch.
$$@#$&*$!!!!!
As I hung up the phone, the weight of 3 week's worth of frustration over my situation came crashing down on me. Outside, it was pouring rain. Which was perfect, because inside I sat with tears streaming down my face. In a Panera for crying out loud!
I felt like a loser. I couldn't understand why God would forget me now. I didn't feel like I did anything wrong to lose my last job, the agency where I worked just closed up shop. So why wouldn't God help me out now? Was there really something valuable to be gained from me sitting in a Panera sobbing like a baby?
Apparently so.
I gazed out the window. Outside, a hospital is going through a major renovation. An entire new wing is being added, so the place is covered with scaffolding, construction equipment and debris. You can start to see what it will look like once complete. A beautiful glass facade at the entrance is just starting to come together.
But at the moment I looked, crying in Panera and feeling hurt and hopeless, the hospital looked like a big ugly mess.
And it was at that precise moment, I felt God speak to me.
Not in the big, booming, Voice-of God kind of way you see in the movies. It was a quiet message that I felt tug at my heart. And what he said was:
I am building through breaking.
To build that hospital I was looking at requires a lot of breaking. Rocks get blasted. Metal gets bent. Concrete gets jackhammered. But through all these violent, painful actions, something beautiful is built. The architect's dream is realized.
The master architect was telling me the same thing was going on in my life. Through these hurtful, broken episodes, he was building something beautiful. So my job really wasn't to question why I didn't get the job offer. My job was to trust that it was still part of God's blueprints for my life. To trust that he was building something amazing for me. But to do that it means that certain things have to be broken.
Some things also apparently have to be wired with TNT and blasted into oblivion.
So the Monday after my little "episode" at Panera the place that told me "no" called back offered me a 2-3 month contract gig. In many ways, it's a better situation. No I can see how much I like them as much as they can see how much they like me, while continuing my search for a full time gig.
God has a plan. While I often have no idea what He's doing, I really can't wait to see what he will build out of my brokenness.
I can speak from experience that the answer is no.
But there I was, tears streaming down my face. Feeling like my entire world was crumbling all around me. Feeling like the mayor of Loserville.
Let me set this up. Since my last post, my world has been and endless stream of frantic calls, interviews and frustrating run-arounds in trying to find a new job. The weight of my responsibility to my kids, my wife and my father-in-law who lives with us now, seemed heavier with each dead end. The knot in my stomach grew with each person who looked at my resume and said some variation of, "This looks great, but we just don't have anything right now..."
In my search, I adopted various Paneras around time as my temporary office. It's good for decent coffee, free wi-fi, and to meet with my connections and (soon to be!) employers. But after 3 weeks on the job hunt trail, even the staff at Panera seemed to wonder why I kept showing up.
So there I found myself, at Panera on the strip. It was Friday at 5:00. I was literally one of 2 or 3 customers in the place. I was waiting on a phone call where I was quite certain, I was going to be offered a job. I had finished a week's worth of interviews with the company. Everything in my gut told me I had it. I had every prayer warrior I know throwing up prayers on my behalf to the Big Guy.
But when the call came, the job offer didn't.
Ouch.
$$@#$&*$!!!!!
As I hung up the phone, the weight of 3 week's worth of frustration over my situation came crashing down on me. Outside, it was pouring rain. Which was perfect, because inside I sat with tears streaming down my face. In a Panera for crying out loud!
I felt like a loser. I couldn't understand why God would forget me now. I didn't feel like I did anything wrong to lose my last job, the agency where I worked just closed up shop. So why wouldn't God help me out now? Was there really something valuable to be gained from me sitting in a Panera sobbing like a baby?
Apparently so.
I gazed out the window. Outside, a hospital is going through a major renovation. An entire new wing is being added, so the place is covered with scaffolding, construction equipment and debris. You can start to see what it will look like once complete. A beautiful glass facade at the entrance is just starting to come together.
But at the moment I looked, crying in Panera and feeling hurt and hopeless, the hospital looked like a big ugly mess.
And it was at that precise moment, I felt God speak to me.
Not in the big, booming, Voice-of God kind of way you see in the movies. It was a quiet message that I felt tug at my heart. And what he said was:
I am building through breaking.
To build that hospital I was looking at requires a lot of breaking. Rocks get blasted. Metal gets bent. Concrete gets jackhammered. But through all these violent, painful actions, something beautiful is built. The architect's dream is realized.
The master architect was telling me the same thing was going on in my life. Through these hurtful, broken episodes, he was building something beautiful. So my job really wasn't to question why I didn't get the job offer. My job was to trust that it was still part of God's blueprints for my life. To trust that he was building something amazing for me. But to do that it means that certain things have to be broken.
Some things also apparently have to be wired with TNT and blasted into oblivion.
So the Monday after my little "episode" at Panera the place that told me "no" called back offered me a 2-3 month contract gig. In many ways, it's a better situation. No I can see how much I like them as much as they can see how much they like me, while continuing my search for a full time gig.
God has a plan. While I often have no idea what He's doing, I really can't wait to see what he will build out of my brokenness.
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