Papa

Papa

David Percy likely had many different names from many different people, but this was what I called him. It's what I've called him since my junior year of High School in 2007. I called him Mr.Percy for six years before the Sunday morning everything changed but changing the title was as natural as breathing. I could have told you who he was long before then because he was Hannah and Sarah's father, and my knowledge of him mostly was going over to say hello to them on Sunday mornings in service. The title changed when after two years of having no man willing to take on a group of sometimes loud and crazy teenage boys during Sunday School, David sat down at a round table with us.

Let me tell you, I was raised that everyone was Sir, Ma'am, Mr., and Mrs. so when I happened to call him Mr. Percy and wound up with a shake of his head and two of my friends looking at me and saying 'It's Papa Percy', everything changed quickly. It's a fitting moniker though. This was a guy who would in those two years profoundly shape my faith and view on things (though we never agreed on country music), most notably his patience and love amidst all our craziness has rubbed off on me in ways I never imagined. I didn't yet know that I'd be with my own group of crazy teenage boys in only a matter of years. I happened to be talking to a great brother of mine earlier today and happened to mention that one of the things that I will forever remember this man for was his willingness to give us a chance when no one else would. I understand students are hard and I can assure you that we were  not the easiest bunch to deal with but it was rough couple of years dealing with the fact that every single other group of students had someone with them, willing to listen and teach, and we didn't have anyone who would make that commitment, Papa did.

Even when graduation came that relationship didn't stop. I still saw him on Sundays, and was at his house for game nights or bonfires or birthday celebrations over the past nine years. I can't actually remember a Sunday since then that he was in Church and I saw him that he didn't hug me and tell me he loved me. You've probably had some good hugs in your life but  as far as I'm concerned his hugs were legendary, bone crushing, squeeze you until you couldn't breathe type things. Sometimes those hugs came when I said 'Hello' and sometimes they came after a conversation, but they always came. I would sure love to have one of those hugs right now. Usually my talking with him would come after church was over while he was waiting to leave. A few months ago before he helped proudy show us Sarah's new jeep I had asked him something and he just laughed and said he was waiting to be told where he was going to eat. I never saw that man mad but I did see a lot of smiles and heard many laughs.

Over the years Papa made some interesting choices that were great to point out to Hannah and Sarah, his mustache and his motorcycle. The former I took great delight in pointing out how great it looked to them because it was at one point a long handlebar mustache that was well past his jaws. His bike was even better. It had a little basket attached to the back that he'd put stuff in to take to work. Anytime I saw him on the road I'd take a picture and send it to them with much amusement. He had a nice beard as well but that didn't faze the girls like the mustache or the motorcycle.

A little over a month ago he got sick. This morning his body gave up and he went home. I sat last night and this morning praying hard God would heal him and he could come home. I just wasn't aware that the home he was going to wouldn't be the one that is three minutes from my house. God certainly healed him and took him home, it just wasn't the home I visited him in, but the one where his healing would be final. It hasn't sunk in yet and I'm not sure it will for awhile that he's actually gone. He's been in my life for eleven years and I can confidently say it won't be the same without him. I learned a lot from him and don't know that I will treat Student Ministry quite the same without remembering the many mornings he got us under control without raising his voice or  with much more than a look that Sarah has inherited. If I can be half the teacher he was to these boys I will have done well. If I can love them half as well as he did us maybe they will understand that a big reason I'm there on Sundays is because there was a man who was willing to do the same for me. David Percy was many things to many people but to me he will simply always be Papa.

Cloud of Witnesses-Mark Schultz, give it a listen.

Millennial

The problem with millennials is:
They think they are entitled.
They are whiny.
They are lazy.
They are self-absorbed and narcissistic.

Except they don't and they aren't. Here's the thing, I'm a Millennial. I was born January 20,1990. I'm just shy of twenty-seven years old. The older people around me tend to throw around the word Millennial like it is an insult. They see young people that do match the above description and link it to all people of Gen Y. The recent protests and riots over Donald Trump becoming President Elect and having entire colleges shut down because of it is the latest wave of Millennial bashing to sweep my news feed on Facebook.

  There are many problems with that and one of the biggest is that you are assuming everyone in this generation is lazy, whiny, and wants everything handed to them without work. Such a broad generalization would be the same as me saying that those in 'the Greatest Generation' and many of the older Baby Boomers are all racist simply because of their age during the Civil Right's Movement. I mean there were certainly older boomers and those from the greatest generation screaming racial slurs as schools were desegregated. So why not lump all of them in one solid category as racist? If it works for lazy, whining Millennials it works for them. Clearly that is flawed logic or the Civil Rights Movement would have only been African American's, except it wasn't, there were white people involved.

I'm not saying that there aren't people my age who certainly act entitled or are lazy. But, you can't decry an entire generation for the actions of a few. That isn't how things work and it certainly isn't going to make them better. I'll admit that having people my age not go to school because they refuse to accept that Donald Trump will be the next President and are literally asking for crying time-outs from class makes me embarrassed. That being said hearing how poor a generation we are because of those people makes me far angrier. Why in the world would we want to take advice from the older generation when the only things we hear from them are you are horrible, lazy, good for nothing, brats? It isn't even logical to ask us to heed your advice.

  Actually, think about that for a moment. If you walked into work starting Monday and for the entire week you heard nothing from your boss but how horrible an employee you were would you continue working there? I'd say most of you probably wouldn't and you couldn't be blamed for leaving. Money might help you live but dignity and self-respect are just as important to living. You can't constantly deride an entrie generation and actually expect anything  good to come from that line of action. There is a chunk of wisdom in the old adage 'you catch more flies with honey than vinegar'. People don't respond well to being debased or thought of as useless.

It certainly can't be said that we aren't open to communication. This generation is more tied to communication than any before it, we were young when the internet became public, we got internet at my house when I was in sixth grade. I remember well my years before it hit my house but I also remember logging onto AOL Instant Messenger (AIM) for the first time and the ease with which I could talk to multiple friends at once even though they weren't right there with me. We do like to communicate and I daresay we want to hear from those who came before us and get their take on things but that goes both ways. If you want us to listen to you, to heed the advice you have, you need to be willing to listen to us without telling us with your attitude that you'd rather be anywhere but speaking with us, because you don't think we matter.

  We are a generation not of lazy people but one who is fast finding it's footing and taking the world by storm. A vast majority of the non-profits that exist right now were started by Millennial's. If anything this generation is doing its best to make the world better, not worse. Social issues are a big deal, not because we are narcissistic  and want attention but because we want to help. Beyond that this generation has already doubled the number of businesses started by the one before us, Forbes 30 under 30 is a good place to check out just how profitable the area of business has been for people my age, Facebook, Instagram,and Snapchat were all started by Millennials and all raked in a great deal of money, entrepreneuership at its finest. Before you make your next purchase you might want to do some research, unless you are shopping at a tiny Mom&Pop shop you could be benefiting from the brainchild of one of those lazy Millennial's.

So from a Millennial that isn't lazy, whiny, self-absorbed, narcissistic, or entitled please think before you share a video on how lazy people my age are, or blast us with some article or another calling us any number of things. You had your chance to prove who you were to the world, give us ours, and please, don't judge all of us by the actions of a few, you wouldn't want such treatment.

(So here's the thing, I've had so many posts in my news feed the past week or so all of which were put up by people older than myself about how lazy and entitled people my age were. This is my response. I don't respond rashly, this has been in my head for a couple of days. I actually do enjoy talking to people older than myself and gaining advice. I just started farming and know 0 things about that lifestyle. But, I'm learning. Most of which is coming from our fantastic neighbors who thankfully don't look at me like so many others do people my age, they are willing to teach and to get to know me without any preconceived notions, and I have to say that is a nice thing.)

Orphan Sunday 2016

I'm not sure if it is normal to hate and love a day at the same time. Today is such a day for me, one I hate and love. Orphan Sunday makes me happy because it shows the Church being as it should and engaging to love, help, and speak up for the Fatherless as we are called to do. I just wish there were not a need for such a day. It exists because there are children who do not have families. That means there are children who've experienced the loss of parents through different circumstances and now do not have them. In short it means pain and loneliness.

I could show you plenty of statistics about these children. I could give you numbers that would help you see how many children do not have families just here in the United States, to say nothing about those around the world. But, you won't find any numbers in this years annual Orphan Sunday blog. If you give a face a number you can desensitize yourself to it. Numbers are sterile, not personal. We aren't called to go and help numbers, we are called to help people. That is personal. That is real. While there is a benefit to knowing those numbers and I've shared them before, this year I want to focus on the realness of this day.
 
"We learned that orphans are easier to ignore before you know their names. They are easier to ignore before you see their faces."-David Platt
 
When you assign them a number that is when they go from people to statistics. Their identities get lost in a wash of this circumstance or that one. We might feel bad for them for a moment but then that fades and we are back to thinking about something else. If we make things personal, if we get to know their stories and their faces then they stick with us. Why? Because we aren't just reading a number attached to a group we are looking  into the life of a real child who has faced real pain. That makes all the difference.

This is where actually doing something comes into play. We can't just look,feel, and walk away. Action is necessary. Compassion is the catalyst. Feeling means compassion and compassion means to suffer with, that means we've got to get our hands dirty and allow ourselves to take the risk of getting close to the hurt these children feel. One of my favorite organizations that does this is Show Hope. It was started by Steven Curtis Chapman after he brought home two daughters from China. This is an organization that not only cares for children in China you can help fund adoption grants for parents who need help bringing their children home. Beyond that they keep this act of love personal. Each month a different child is prayed for specifically, not just by name, but by face. They e-mail, tweet, and post on facebook and Instagram about that month's child and ways you can pray for him or her. They don't shy away from the hard stuff but instead allow you to see that this isn't an easy thing, that there are risks, but we are called to love the fatherless, so they do it, and they do it well.

We are called to care for and love the fatherless. The only question you need to answer is how you will personally go about doing that. I would encourage you to visit Show Hope's website to learn more about what they do.
Show Hope

If you're looking for a different way to support orphan care and like to read you can get yourself a copy of my book The Forgotten 50% of the royalties goes to Show Hope and TN Baptist Children Homes. The idea of the book is to do just that, raise awareness for the children who do not have families. We cannot forget them they need to know that they are loved.

Friends Matter-Choose wisely

"The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack."-Rudyard Kipling

The above is one of my favorite quotes. When I was younger I liked it simply because it mentioned wolves but several years ago I realized what it meant and it became more important.  Parents tell their children to choose their friends wisely. Be careful who your friends are and so on is advice that I heard a lot and now find myself telling middle school students fairly often. We've had several lessons on the subject on Wednesday night's, Proverbs is especially full of criteria for what a good friend should look like.

  So, why open with that quote? About six years ago I started writing a book about my best friends. It is titled The Pack, and the above is the opening quote. I see my friends as a pack (my sister has actually dubbed us the Wolf Pack). Like any wolf pack we are stronger together and are both very much alike and vastly different at the same time. But, I will tell you that I would not want anyone else in my corner. When push comes to shove these are people who have my back.

Choosing your friends  is important. The funny thing about friends is that as much as you choose them they are choosing you. Statistically speaking your friends change over the years. You gain some and lose some as time passes and lives change. Much like everything else about me I broke that statistic also. While I've gained friends over the years the core of the Pack have been my friends for going on ten years now. In fact, I've known Hannah (I'll get to her in a moment) for fifteen years now. While I had friends growing up none of them were like these people. Until I got older I only saw these people two days a week but that didn't matter, they'd invited me in and things just grew from there. These people have helped me become who I am and to coax out a shy kid who didn't say a word to people.

  Anaias Nin said it best "Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until this person arrives, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." They've certainly helped shape my personality but they also introduced me to so many things. Much of my musical tastes stems from car rides to get coffee or frozen yogurt. Most of my food adventures involve them as well. I gained many new worlds thanks to these people and look forward to gaining more over the coming years.

It's interesting because as many things as I've learned from being with them the one thing that bonds us isn't music or food or even personalities, it's faith. God clearly had his hand on getting these relationships together because to be honest I'm an introvert and if they hadn't talked first I would have no friends. (Thanks to said friends I do actually talk to strangers now so thanks guys). It is what we believe that keeps us together. These people challenge me to grow closer to God with their own relationships with Him but aren't afraid of pointing out things that are hindering my own, or where they can see Him moving in me.

  I'd love to tell you that we are constantly having stimulating conversations that would make the great thinkers wish they could sit at our feet and learn. Unfortunately, many of our conversations are in fact nonsensical and based only on random humor. That humor is important though and sense the introduction of GIF's into texting it has only gotten better. We make each other laugh and that is something that can't be taken for granted, deep conversations are great, growing together is great, but having someone you can laugh with is equally as important, you can't take yourself too seriously. Life with these people is never boring. That being said those same texts are often full of prayers and encouragement. When I need something these are the folks I talk with. Doesn't matter what time it is, doesn't matter how trivial the problem is, they are there. Find people who can help you deal with life and are willing to encourage you and pray for you.

Now, to Hannah. The first chapter of The Pack involves Hannah. She was the first friend I made at Bayside. This post was stirred up in my head because of her. You see she is getting married in two days. Which is a little bit crazy. (Mostly because sometimes my brain forgets that we are in fact in our mid twenties and likes to pretend we can all still hang out until one or two in the morning in the church parking lot). So what does that have to do with anything? Quite frankly without her I wouldn't have these other friends. The Pack started with her and grew because she knew these other people that also became my best friends.   I told her once that I hoped that if I have kids they have a friend like her because if they do I know they will be alright. While I could say that about any of The Pack (the whole having wise friends is huge here) she was that first connection. Everything started with her just being nice. Without her there would be no pack. I'd probably be that weird kid who hides in the corner and eats paste if she hadn't said hello to me (except I've never eaten paste and I met her in middle school so that doesn't completely apply) but I really doubt that I'd ever learned to be me without that influence she started. I owe so much to her and this pack. I certainly couldn't have imagined in sixth grade what would have taken place all these years later and how a simple hello changed everything for me. See, I didn't do much choosing in the beginning, these wise friends were just there and I'm eternally grateful that I learned what the right friend was suppose to look like because of them.

You want friendships that will stand strong?
Find people that will make you laugh
Find people who aren't afraid to be honest
Find people you can be yourself around
Find people who seek God and will push you to do the same
Find people you can trust
Lastly, communication is important. TALK TO THESE PEOPLE. You don't have to be constantly talking (we don't talk every day and we don't all live in the same city) but if you can't actually talk to them there is no point.

I'm not going to tell you that if you find people like this you won't have problems. Relationships of any kind take work and friendships are no exception. That being said they are worth building and putting in the work to keep. Life is much easier and for that matter way more fun with people you can trust to live it with you. 





To end this I'd just like say to thanks ladies and gents. Thanks for the prayers,the laughs, the car rides, the deep talks and the not so serious ones, the honesty, and for letting me be me and accepting all that entails. Here's to growing old and maybe not completely growing up. Can't imagine doing it with anyone else. #Wolfpack4life

Vicious Creatures and BSL

Maybe you've heard and maybe you haven't, Montreal has just announced their newest law. They've passed a BSL law-Breed Specific Legislation. Their target as it has been for many years in many other places, Pit-Bull type dogs. Under this new law any dog of this type that is currently in a shelter cannot be adopted, it is to be euthanized immediately. If such a dog is owned you must meet a set of stringent requirements that are bizarre and unethical. A $150 registration fee (essentially a dog tax) that must be paid yearly, every dog is to be sterilized, when outside the home they must be muzzled and on a leash no longer than four feet. This law falls on dogs that are American Pit Bull Terrier, American Staffordshire Terrier, Staffordshire Terrier or any mix of the three or just look as if they could share the DNA of one of these breeds. Does your dog have a nice blocky, square head? That's a characteristic of all three of these breeds, under this new law it could be euthanized if you don't follow the above rules. BSL is in nice terms garbage.

  This law was prompted by a dog attack in March wherein a lady was killed. Here's the thing, they don't even know that the dog was any of the bully breeds. There was no DNA testing done but because of this dog's appearance it has been decided that any dog that is such a breed or remotely resembling them needs to be muzzled or killed to 'protect' the city. You want to know why these dogs are considered killers, their size. Their bites can inflict damage that can kill. There is a very large problem with that. That problem, it is based solely on the fact that compared to a small dog they can do more damage. It doesn't take into account the temperament of the dogs in general. Ready for a surprise? The only dog who has a better temperament than the Pit Bull is a Labrador. You read that right. Only America's favorite dog has a better temperament than the proclaimed killer beast who will happily rip your throat out. When tested 84% of those tested passed with flying colors. For comparison only 61% of Chihuahua's passed. Which means you are far more likely to be bitten by one of the small dogs than you are a Pit Bull. In case you were wondering according to the American Temperament Test Society both the American Staffordshire Terrier and Staffordshire Terrier also passed with a higher percentage than the Chihuahua. Chihuahua bites aren't newsworthy. Dog attacks that involve your larger breeds are way more likely to get hits on a news website. They fan flames of fear and the result is the death of dogs that are branded as something they are not.

I'm not a fan of small dogs. I never have been. The number of them that have growled or snapped at me when I've approached is high. Actually I've only met one Chihuahua that didn't growl at me when I got near him and he could fit in my hand and belonged to my sister. In all the times I've seen them in public and dealt with them there has never been a single account of a Pit Bull or any of the Bully breeds growling or snapping because I got near them. Beyond that you want to know the reason that I find BSL complete and total garbage:

Meet Delilah. This lovely lady was my first real dealing with a Pit Bull. She happens to be owned by the sister of two of my best friends. Clearly the picture shows why you should hide your children from these vicious creatures. The problem with BSL is I can't imagine not having met this girl. Any and all fear of the killer dogs was dispelled by her. This picture was taken a few weeks ago, I met Delilah many years ago when she was around three or four I think. She's much older now but still acts like a puppy. That tongue went right up my face about .2 seconds after I snapped that picture. I'll be honest the night I met her and she came charging up the driveway barking with the other dogs I freaked out a little. When she jumped up and started licking me I was hooked. She's about as dangerous as a wet paper sack.

This new law is not only going to bring a large number of deaths to Montreal as these beautiful dogs are killed, it's going to bring pointless heartache to people who own them and might lose them simply because some people deem them too dangerous to exist. Our first dog died when I was eleven, she was a Lab mix, she was twelve, age was her killer and it hurt. I can't imagine being that age again or younger and having my dog taken from me because some idiots with power wielded it the wrong way and made it so my dog was suddenly dangerous. For that matter I can't imagine such a law being passed here and losing my dogs now.

One of these days I will have a Pit Bull of my own and I'm hoping that it will be a therapy dog. I've seen what those dogs can do. Those dogs can be given the worst lives and still rise above it and become something no one thought possible because of their upbringing and breed. They just need to be given the chance to show that beneath the muscle they are basically comprised of there is a need to show and be given affection.

The problem isn't the dogs. The vicious creatures do not walk on four legs, they walk on two. Breed Specific Legislation hasn't been shown to do anything good for the places it is made into law but it will continue to spread so long as fear is allowed to win over reality.Montreal has made a mistake and many lives will unnecessarily pay for it.

Life with Dogs

It's National Dog Day. If you know me you know my love of dogs. If it involves dogs I'm more than likely going to be interested. I can rumble off more facts about dogs than you would want to hear or know. There is nothing like watching a dog work, especially if that work is what they were bred to do. People created the dog to be exactly what it is. Dogs were bred to perform a function and even the smallest Chihuahua will be happier when it can do its job of being a companion. Man's best friend packs a punch to the economy with people spending roughly 60.20 billion dollars on their pets (not all of that was spent on dogs but that is a lot of money). It isn't hard to see that as people we invest in our dogs and want them to be happy. Over-indulgence and treating dogs like people aside our pets are important to us and this national dog day I'm going to give you a glimpse of mine.

  There has never been a time in my life that I can remember where my house did not have at least one dog in it. Our breeds have run the gamut and they've all left a distinct impression on me.The thing you will notice about my dogs is that their is a distinct lack of small canines. We've had two my entire life;a Cocker Spaniel, and a Mountain Feist. Both lasted a minuscule amount of time. There are few small dogs I am willing to entertain the idea of owning and thus far in my life they've not impacted me except to give me a dislike of yippy dogs.

The first dog I can remember was our lab-mix Shadow, she died when I was eleven, she was twelve. There are no pictures of her that I know of but I wish we had some. One of my favorite memories of her involved a bunch of Rottweilers chasing two of my brothers and myself out of the woods behind our house. By then Shadow was at least eleven and didn't venture off much but when she heard those dogs she came tearing off the front porch to chase them away, and they scampered off with her on their heels. She was smart, sweet, and constantly covered in a layer of dirt that would puff into the air when you petted her. I assume that she is where my love of dogs stems from. I do not remember the time but when I was little I was apparently terrified of dogs, or so I've been told. I cannot imagine that, not knowing how much I love them now. Which means that I owe her much, she taught me to love dogs and without that I would certainly be missing a large chunk of my personality.

Betsy

Mason and Betsy were not mine, they were my father and Kyle's respectively. They were my first foray into seeing a dog work as it should, performing the duty it was bred for, hunting. They were Treeing Curs, squirrel and coon dogs. Betsy was the dog we'd gone to bring home and came home with Mason as well. Mason was my first protector who stayed inside. He slept in my room, often curled at the end of my bed while Betsy slept against me as Kyle got older and eventually moved out. Those dogs were fun to watch hunt, and I can still hear them treeing in my head or  see Mason attempting to climb the tree after a coon. Those dogs brought lots of memories. Betsy had an intense love of affection and once you started petting her you didn't stop or she would paw you until you resumed. Mason quickly learned that the microwave thawed out squirrel and would go sit and wait at it, any time it was turned on. The two were also responsible for introducing me to newborn puppies and watching them grow as they produced several fantastic litters of dogs who hunted hard.

Though he wasn't ours I have to mention Flash. Flash was a Dalmatian puppy that wandered into our yard one day. He was deaf and his owners had simply let him loose with a note tied to his collar. He stayed with us for about a week while a rescue worked a way out to get to him. Flash was interesting in that he had a disability. I'd never seen a dog like him before. Dogs that were missing legs were rare at that point but dogs that were young and couldn't hear was something I'd not come in contact with. I had a great time trying to see just what he could sense, performing the steps the rescue asked us to.  also enjoyed filling him full of treats that were smuggled through the door of his crate at any point I could get to them when he was inside of it. He taught me that all dogs needed a home, it takes a special person to deal with a dog with behavior issues or disabilities.

Now we get into the big dogs. This is Flint. He was a merlequin Great Dane. He was the biggest dog we ever owned and also one of the biggest chickens I'd ever met unless you messed with us. It was always entertaining to have someone knock or ring the doorbell. Flint would go to the hallway and bark, occasionally peeking around the hall. I know of only one person Flint didn't like and that was a family friend who also had a Dane. Jon came over one day to meet Flint and he was outside with mom behind our backyard fence. Jon rattled the fence and Flint started barking and growling. I'm not sure how familiar you are with Great Dane's but they are large and look as if they could eat you in one bite if they wanted to when angered. Until the day he died Flint didn't really warm up to Jon. He would tolerate Jon if he was around him at hunting camp but otherwise wanted nothing to do with him.

Flint was an absolute blast because as big as he was he thought he was a lapdog. He'd sit on the couch like a person with his butt on the cushions and his feet on the floor. He loved to drink out of the kitchen sink. The only downside to his massive size was his ever wagging tail. It was at the perfect height to drop you to your knees or clear a table, or knock over a child. Flint was protective but he loved to be leaning against you. Him sleeping in the bed was always fun, he wanted to lay against your back and stretched out fully he was longer than the bed. Big dogs are really just big babies and even though they are much larger than the average dog they want nothing more than to lay on you and get attention.

If Flint was a big Dane, Lily was a dwarf one. She was small, a Mother's Day gift for mom after Flint started getting a little older. Her split face earned her the nickname Sybill, her mood changes didn't help. She was rowdy with the other dogs, even as a puppy she would instigate trouble with Takoda. She was the Alpha dog in the house even as small as she was compared to Flint, in truth she wasn't much taller than Takoda. Like Flint she liked to sleep with you, but she didn't normally lay on your back, she curled up into a big ball. She loved to play and run and was usually playing if she wasn't laying with you.

Now we have Takoda. Takoda taught me patience. I waited nine years to get him. I read every book I could get my hands on about Siberian's. They were headstrong,independent, didn't mind well... The books were right. He's stubborn, will obey for food, and hates baths. The day I brought him home he screamed like crazy because his feet had only been on grass and never on concrete. Then he slept for the two days after getting his puppy booster. I thought at first I was getting a mellow dog, boy was I wrong. He was high energy, though he's slowed down at eight years old. He's also unusually protective of me. Even as a puppy you didn't mess with me or you'd get bared teeth and a growl. The first time I saw that he put himself in between me and a stranger who was walking down the road.

Let it snow and you'd think he was a puppy. When the weather cools he essentially becomes an outside dog he refuses to come inside and happily sleeps on the back deck. But as stubborn and as high energy as he was he is also one of the most people patient dogs we've ever owned. My cousins learned to stand and walk pulling up on him or holding his ears. Never once did he snap or growl, he just stood there.  He also helped me in my first foray for nose work. Like I said working dogs fascinate me and Search work in particular is a particular interest of mine. So, I taught Takoda. He is certainly not certified but he will happily find my nieces or cousins hidden around the house or in the yard. The one thing he isn't a fan of is most other dogs. He tolerates Max and Reese but is not a fan of Tonks. While he still remains steadfastly patient with people and children his tolerance of dogs isn't so high. Now he'd just as happily sleep by himself away from the other dogs as opposed to being with them and he certainly no longer plays with them. He still loves to run, though. He can run for a long time if it isn't  hot and in that respect we don't have a dog who can match him for that love.

Max is an interesting fellow. Maximus is a Border Collie, he's my dad's. He's incredibly smart and never once has he used the bathroom in the house. He used to herd the kids Mom watched at the house, and likes to herd the chickens. He is also basically human. He's got his own seat in the car, loves to get ice cream, and expects biscuits if you are eating one from anywhere. Loud noises bother him greatly and thunderstorms normally find him in my bedroom or in the bathtub if he can't get there. He's the only dog we own who can be off leash outside a fence. Though he knows how to walk on a leash it isn't needed unless it is required to take him to the vet or he is somewhere that a leash is the rule. He loves to play fetch more than any dog I've met and it doesn't matter what you throw. I'm using that brain and his desire to fetch to teach him to bring items that I don't want to reach to get, like a trowel or little rake. He wants to please more than any dog we've ever owned. When I say he is my dad's dog I mean it. When dad is out of town he pines and doesn't eat much until dad gets home. He knows the sound of dad's truck and anytime he goes anywhere we know he's coming back by watching Max's ears prick up and he starts whining. Max showed me what it meant to be obedient. You can look at his eyes and see devotion.

 This chocolate dog is Reese. She's mom's but that is a formality because Reese has decided that she is mine or perhaps I am hers. When we first went and looked at Reese's litter I told Mom we needed to get her in particular because she was calmer than the others. She liked to be petted and while she was curious she wasn't pushy or uninterested in people in favor of exploring. My intentions were to eventually train that chocolate puppy into a therapy dog. That calm puppy was a facade. Reese is part dog and part kangaroo and all energy. I've never seen a dog with as much energy as she has. She jumps straight up and down when she wants your attention or one of the other dogs is let out without her. It's one of the funniest things you will ever see. Her nighttime ritual consists of running into my bedroom, jumping up and down twice on my bed, and then lying down and going to sleep. Takoda loves food but Reese puts him to shame, she's a typical lab when it comes to her stomach.

Like Takoda, I've introduced Reese to nosework and she is the complete opposite of the old man. Takoda works slower. Reese is like a laser, she just goes for it. We've had a lot of dogs, Reese is the first I've ever seen that wouldn't lie down. She would sit without problem but dropping to her belly when she was told was like trying to teach her Spanish. Eventually she learned it but she certainly taught me that dogs learn differently and at their own pace.

This big fuzz is Tonnks. She is a Great Pyrenees and a breed I've wanted to own for years. She was purchased to guard our chickens from hawks. We've not lost a chicken to a predator since we got her and she's only 8 months old. We did a lot of searching before we found her because her litter was raised with goats and chickens so she already had exposure to a poultry flock before she came to us. I was used to Dane's being big, Tonk's was like watching a bear grow up. She was a ball of fluff for a few weeks. Then she became all awkward long legs with a huge head and feet. Now she's a giant that is even bigger when she's barking and growling at what she feels is threatening the yard or house. I see why the Pyrenees first defense is that bark and size. I would certainly not mess with a yard that had one guarding it. But, she's basically harmless once you get to know her. She loves to be petted, especially her head and ears. She also likes food, especially cheese.

I've seen flock guards before but she was my first foray into actually owning one. I understood the concept of having a dog outside with their flock for protection but wasn't sure how I could deal with having a dog that didn't really see inside my house all that much. Tonks was a lesson in a breed that was intended to guard and that instinct to actually be outside guarding her flock. When we moved to our new house she saw our neighbors chickens in the back pasture and tried her best to get to them because they were carrying on. She hadn't figured out that those weren't her flock but she was used to investigating when the chickens acted up.

My fluffy bear dog likes to lay on you and spent many of her nights laying across me in bed because the chickens are penned at night. She's not grown yet but already she takes up basically my entire bed. Her newest spot is the hallway right outside my door. From there she can watch the whole house and shake the windows when something outside sends her into guard mode.

Arwen

This girl is Arwen. She's also a Border Collie. Max is dad and she is mine. I said for years that when i got a farm I wanted one of my own to work sheep and other stock. After a long search I found this girl. There's only one dog I've met with the ball drive she has and that is Kyle's dog Xena who is a Dutch shepherd. Arwen and I bonded quickly, probably quicker than any of the other dogs we own. She is as attached to me as Max is to Dad. Brilliant doesn't begin to scratch the surface of just how smart this dog is and she continually amazes me at how quickly she picks up new things I decide to teach her.

I bought her to herd sheep and though we are getting out of the sheep business she has plenty to herd in the chickens,ducks,guineas, goats, and pigs when they are smaller. I'm hoping in the years to come this girl will replicate herself and Max in puppy form so that much like with Mason and Betsy hunting for good dogs won't be so hard. I'll have a well bred, talented herding dog line of Border Collie's of my own. The versatility of her and Max go well beyond moving animals and finding out new ways to channel her intelligence and drive has been a blast. Creating a family dog that can go from working companion or sport dog to lying around with you is something I look forward to doing (her current task is nose work and she's picking it up quickly like she has everything else).

She wants to be with you, loves to give hugs, and if you throw her ball or rubber duck she will be your friend for life. As smart as she is, and as strong as her instincts are her temperament is what I love about her most. Nikki calls Max the favorite son because we've never had a dog like him, Arwen  has proven to match his love of people, and his temperament although she isn't quite as human-like as the old man. But, if this girl was the last dog I ever owned (she won't be) she was the best I've ever had.
                                                     
Most people buy their children pets so that they will learn responsibility. My parent's unknowingly bought me life lessons covered in fur. Lessons that were not always easily learned, often covered in dirt and slobber but ultimately worth it. I'm a profound believer that children need pets but dogs are the best. The above should show you that.

"A dog teaches a boy fidelity, perseverance, and to turn around three times before lying down."-Robert Benchley

(A/n: This was started on National Dog Day several weeks ago but lack of internet and time has pushed it back to just now being finished.)

15 years later.

This is a picture of part of the South Tower. I took it several years ago while in D.C. Still one of the most sobering things I've ever seen.

Generally on a day like today I simply link to the blog post I wrote several years ago. This year I needed to do something different. It's been fifteen years since the United States changed forever. That span of time is a little hard to comprehend. It feels in one way like it has been so much longer than that, yet at the same time it seems like there can't have been that much time between then and now. My morning was spent with a group of 8th grade boys who weren't even alive at that point and that in itself could be an entirely different blog post. This year's freshmen are learning about a piece of history that happened before they were born. These college freshmen who just graduated were only toddlers when the towers fell and Al-Qaeda became a household name. This morning I looked at 6th graders the same age I was when it happened.

I have to say nothing has quite made me feel like an 'adult' like realizing that as small group leaders we were vastly outnumbered by people who wouldn't be alive for several years after September 11. Speaking on the passing of time, the last search dog, Bretagne, who was deployed at Ground Zero, was laid to rest only four months ago. There isn't another living marker of the canines who worked tirelessly with their handlers to return those who were still alive to their families and bring peace to those who needed closure. One of the most powerful images of Ground Zero involved Riley, who is a golden retriever, riding in a basket across the chasm and the pile as he's going to a new area to search. There is video of this happening and you can hear firefighters praising him as he's being pulled across. As humans we ask dogs to do some crazy things and in the darkest times they seem to be there to offer assistance and  comfort in the only way they know how.

I've read several tweets and facebook posts memorializing this day. Today is a day we should never forget. I think in part because it would be dishonoring to forget those who lost their lives to the madness and terrorism, both the civilians and the first responder's. But, as John Green so eloquently wrote 'That's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt.' we can't shut ourselves off from the grief this day brings. There isn't progression when we just box up the pain we feel, you can't heal that way. You've got to wrestle with it no matter how much it hurts. Grief isn't easy, missing people isn't easy, but it does no good to shove things in a box and try and compartmentalize what makes us grieve in the first place. That is why such a day like today is hard, it makes us feel. We hurt, and we get angry,sad, and everything in between. You can't really hide from all that.

 Sometimes I wonder why God made our brains the way He did. We've got a remarkable ability to remember tragedy, occasionally far better than we do the celebrations of life. Most everyone who was a certain age on September 11,2001 can likely tell you what they were doing when they heard what had happened. I can. I think the point of these memories we have is so that we don't forget that hope was always there. Whether you realize it or not there was hope in abundance that day. We saw the way people should treat each other as first responder's rushed into the buildings to save those inside the Twin Towers or the Pentagon. There are little known stories like the mass evacuation and rescue of those on Manhattan Island. Covered in dust and grime, weary, and grieving themselves, we saw men and women come to the rescue, hope was present.

Those who risked their lives and those that lost them trying to do their jobs are called heroes. We honor them rightly in bestowing on them such a title. It's interesting though, especially in today's culture, they wouldn't be considered heroes because of the way they lived, but because of the way they died. That is a skewed logic. While it was certainly no ordinary day it was still their job to do this. They were heroes everyday they went to work, their lives, not their deaths, made them such. We so often overlook them in the daily grind. They come to mind when we need them but otherwise they are on the peripheral just doing their jobs. I can assure you as a man who comes from a family of such people they are heroes regardless of the magnitude of the emergency. They won't seek the recognition but give it anyway, they deserve it.

September 11,2001 showed the world grief personified. We saw the depths of depravity. We saw hate in its physical form. We also saw hope. We saw people bearing the burdens of one another. We watched strangers come together. We proved that united we can withstand whatever is thrown at us.

In ending I'll leave you with images that I remember without problem of that day. Many of them are SAR teams or dogs. Those are the things I latched onto as they flicked across the screen at eleven years old. Dogs were normal,, they weren't doing normal to me things, but I understood dogs. Hate isn't so easily processed.

Bretagne taking a break from being on the pile.

Riley

What's He Worth?

Is Jesus worth it? That seems like a silly question. You're probably thinking well of course He is. But is He really? Think about that honestly, seriously. We've been trained to have a gut reaction when such questions are asked to say yes. When push comes to shove is He really worth it? Is what He asks you to do worth losing jobs, friends, family members, maybe your life?

  Come follow me doesn't come with the word unless attached. It is not unless things are hard, you're afraid, or I ask a little too much. That is all encompassing. I feel like we tend to say 'Yes Lord' but then we draw invisible lines we won't cross. Like maybe I will do whatever as long as I don't have to worry about money or I won't be in danger or my family is safe. Fill in that blank, where is your line?

Tonight I watched the documentary The Insanity of God, a movie based on the book of the same name by Nik Ripken. It centers on followers of Christ in persecution and their willingness to be beaten, ostracized, lose their families, imprisoned, or even killed all because of Jesus. There is a point where Nik is recounting an interview with such a person. Nik is talking about feeling guilty because of the freedom we have here. The man he is speaking to responds that they are as free to worship as we are in America. That sounds preposterous. How can someone who lives where Christians are imprisoned or killed for their faith be as free as we are?

Essentially he says it is a personal choice. They are free to witness just like we are it just comes with risks. Their faith can be lived out in the same way ours can. It is just a matter of if we will choose to live that way. I've grown up hearing how there are believers that don't have the freedom I do, I've taught on it. Tonight I heard such a believer say that was wrong. Even though it sounds crazy he is right. Laws might not hinder me from witnessing but it is still a personal choice. I have to choose to share my faith, to speak. You have to choice to live the faith you have so it can be seen.  In doing so we do what they do without the risks. Our lives look different because it isn't just talk and people notice.

  Our culture says we are intolerant. My beliefs are offensive and I shouldn't express them. These are the things that our society says because we do not go along with the crowd. My faith means I can't be alright with many things because they are sin, so my refusal to support them paints me as an intolerant bigot. This begs the question, is Jesus worth exclusion? Am I o.k. with people not liking me because I won't just go along with the world standard whatever it is at the time. This is a big one for me. I have an idol of people pleasing that I'm working to kill. That being said people not liking me is worth them hearing the gospel.

I can handle being called a bigot if it is because my love of Jesus is stronger than my need for acceptance. I've got family who strongly disagree with my beliefs, especially when it comes to abortion and homosexuality. I love these people but I can't back down from speaking about these things because not speaking is as good as supporting the two. I do not yell or argue. I will not let hate color my words because if I can't speak with grace my speaking is useless.Thus far they haven't disowned me but they know where I stand. If in the end they can't accept me because of my refusal to support certain things I have lost family but I haven't compromised my beliefs.

  Perhaps you are like I was a year ago, your line for Jesus is your dreams. That was me, I had good, God-honoring dreams of spending time in Africa doing short term missions. I was sure that was how things were going to play out. I'd get to Africa and teach some and share the gospel with a people I love. Along the way those dreams became an idol. I was willing to follow Jesus but I wanted Africa to be in the plan. If it wasn't I wasn't sure what it was God was doing. Letting go of our plans isn't easy. We are taught from a young age to dream big dreams for our future. The problem is those don't always line up with what God has for us. I can tell you that His plans are better. They might be unexpected but they will be better for you. Is He worth it even if it means you lose your dream future?

What about family? I am a family man. This is where my line would have to be. Where my struggle is. I don't want to put them in danger. Following Jesus at the risk of my own life is one thing and putting them in danger is another. This, I think, is one of the more difficult facets of a follower living in a heavily persecuted area-death of family. We are to comparatively hate our families when put up against our love of Christ, but that is easeir said than done. When you add in the threat of death it gets harder.

  Let's switch gears though, what if He called you to be right where you are? What if the everyday, nine to five grind was your place? Forget danger, imagine the mundane. So often we think our lives have to be exciting or adventurous to be useful but we are wrong. God never said if you aren't living in a third world country teaching a foreign people about me I can't use you. In fact, where you are right now might be exactly where he wants you to stay. Maybe that isn't east to swallow. Maybe you want excitement, you're tired of sitting in a desk chair. Is He worth faithfully serving in the ordinary day to day life stuff?

So, is He worth it? Is Christ worth beatings, ridicule, exclusion, loss, death, or the mundane? Sometimes I think it is easy to read about a martyr and say yes, clearly Jesus is worth it. But, it is a personal question. You see He was worth it to those people. The question remains if He is worth it to you, no matter what He calls you to in the end.

Like a Plague

"For we have found this man a plague..." Acts 24:5a

There are innumerable insults out there and many of them are words not originally intended to be used as derogatory comments. I think the Jews using the word plague to describe Paul is one of the more interesting ways to describe a Christian. A plague is a horrible thing, it brings death. The definition should mean that such an insult should appall believers. Personally, I see it as an encouragement. Think about it for a moment. When Paul is called a plague he's being told that he's done something that has upset those around him. He's telling these people about God and they don't want to hear it, and he's relentless in that pursuit of making sure they hear it. He doesn't stop.

  They've whipped him. They've beaten him. They've stoned him. He's suffered taking the gospel to these people but he doesn't let that stop him. So as he's taken in front of Felix to be charged they insult him the best way they know how, by calling him a deadly virus that bring destruction wherever it is present. Why is that encouraging? A plague spreads rapidly. One infected person can decimate an entire town in no time at all. When the Jews called Paul a plague they were saying he was an infected individual and they didn't want that to spread anymore. They didn't want to hear what he was saying and didn't want others to hear it either.

Paul was bringing hope that was turning the world upside down. Where he went people were coming to Christ and that just wouldn't do. That's the thing about a plague, when you are infected you can't really hide that fact. It produces symptoms and they are often nasty physical symptoms. Followers of Christ should be the same way. We should live in such a way that people look at us and see Christ. There should be no hiding that we have been changed. When that happens, like Paul, our faith should be so evident to everyone around us that we stop at nothing to share the hope we have.

  The disciples counted it all joy to be beaten for sharing their faith in Christ. Paul clearly had no qualms about suffering for the cause of Christ. When all is said and done being compared to a bacteria isn't such a bad thing. You can't quiet a plague, it is visible, and it spreads like wildfire. Our faith should be like that, visible and contagious to the people we come in contact with, like spreading a virus but instead of bringing destruction we bring hope.

A Global Gospel & Student Winistry

You can know that your actions have far reaching consequences that you can't predict that could help others know Christ and grow the kingdom. You can understand that the smallest of actions have a ripple effect that just gets bigger with time. But, when you see physical evidence of what a simple action that someone else has done and how God is using it to change lives on the other side of the world you realize the scope of what it means that the gospel is global.


  This week I had the opportunity to go with our middle school ministry to Student Life Camp at Ridgecrest in North Carolina. We attended the conference last year but it was just a single night and half a day, this was five days and more intensive. Besides being a chaperone (which will probably be forever odd to be considered) I helped teach bible study to our guys. That lead me to meeting Francis. Each morning we had a meeting with Student Life leadership to discuss the bible study we'd be teaching that day. Tuesday morning I met Francis while at that meeting. He was sitting in front of Jared and I and turned around to talk to us. The first thing I remember him saying after he said hello was to tell me I looked like Ed Sheeran and that if I went to Africa people would think that I was the talented Brit.

We talked for a moment and the meeting started, Francis stood up to speak for a minute, introducing himself and telling us why he was there. You see, Francis is a graduate of Compassion International. He was sponsored as a five year old in Marthare,Kenya by a man in Dallas,Texas. That sponsorship not only lead Francis to saving faith in Christ, it has rippled outward. Francis is set to graduate college in October and is leading a group of about seventy young believers in Marthare in a bible study and working with the Compassion School he was taught in when he was younger. Right now he is with Student Life as a Compassion advocate and is using his story to draw attention to the children around the world who need people to give them the chance to know Christ.

  We heard not only his testimony Tuesday night but the story of his life in Marthare. It was heartbreaking but also a clear example of how God is the source of comfort and peace that surpasses our finite ability to understand and He loves us,even when we are hurting and don't want that. When he finished speaking they had him pray for the service as we were given an opportunity to go out and sponsor a waiting child,having now heard of how doing such a thing can have such an impact. It would have been a beautiful thing to hear this man pray for children like he had been regardless, but they asked him to pray in Swahili. It was chilling, I cried. I couldn't have told you a word he said aside from Amen but the Spirit in that building could be felt. 


I could end right there and you'd get a glimpse of how God moves. But,I'm not going to because that isn't the end. See, while I was introduced to Francis that Tuesday morning I actually met him Monday night. The college Ministry has sponsored a little girl through Compassion from Uganda named Evelyn for many years. I started personally sponsoring a little boy from Rwanda named Niyosenga last year (at Student Life) and it remains one of the best decisions I've ever made. So, when I know there will be children that need to be sponsored I can't help but go look at their pictures and see who these children are. Francis was at the booth and after a moment of my looking he approached me, patted my shoulders which much to my displeasure were sunburned and asked me how I was doing. I talked for a moment and left, so I recognized him in the meeting but didn't know him enough to talk to him.

  Tuesday night changed that. I visited the booth several times Wednesday just to say 'Hi' and to see how many children had been sponsored. But I also did something that is so unlike me I surprised myself, I prayed with Francis. I'm not outgoing, I don't like talking to strangers, and praying with someone I don't know is not a regular activity for me. Yet there I stood in the middle of the lobby with Francis and two of the students who had gone to look at the booth with me and I had my arm around a guy who I'd met only twenty-four hours before but it didn't matter because this wasn't just a guy, this was my brother. I can tell you only that it was God moving in me because I wouldn't have done that otherwise. I still don't like praying in groups of people I don't know and would never have dreamed that I would be doing it in the middle of a lobby filled with other people walking around.

I'm glad I did, it was a growing experience, it was also a God-moment. It isn't a surprise for me to tell you of my love of Africa and its people. That there was a man from Africa at this conference and not only there but there to speak and he was put in my path is something only a sovereign God could have orchestrated. I want to go to Africa. I want to be among a people who don't speak my language but that understand my heart for the gospel to be spread there. Having Africa brought to me is an awe inducing experience that my only response is to praise a God who works far above what I can imagine.

All that being said I was reminded how global the gospel actually is. It reaches around the world to draw the nations to the one who created them. And that doesn't always look like what we would think, it isn't always missionaries slogging through jungles or doctors working in villages. Sometimes it is simply a guy writing a letter to share his love of God with a little boy who needs to hear that God loves him even at his worst, and gave His son to save him because that is how much He loves him. Our actions are an outreach and we don't always understand how far that reach actually goes or who it touches.



So you've heard the global gospel part of this post now it is time to hear the Student Winistry part. First, that is not a type the 'W' is supposed to be there. I firmly consider the opportunity to work with and disciple students a win-Student Ministry+Winning=Student Winistry. This week was fantastic. These students worked their tails off to mulch,stain,and renovate a park at a local church while we were there. It was hot, we got rained on (which was incredibly fun and another God-moment)  and they just kept working, it was physical work but they didn't stop until we put the tools away yesterday afternoon.

It was great to be with them as we served. It was great to be with them as we worshiped. The best part was being with them as we studied the Bible in Family Group. They soak stuff up like a sponge. Their insights were great to hear and it was interesting to see the things that stuck out to them. Too many times people think that students should just be entertained. We do them a disservice when we see them as unable to actually understand the word of God. They get it, they need it, this is a generation that is growing up in a world where Christ is not so much exalted as He is mocked and ignored. If they don't get His word from us or encouraged to grow with Him personally we are failing as disciple-makers and stewards of the gospel.

This weekend showed me again that age is no definition for understanding the gospel. The only requisite is a life changed by God and revelation by the Holy Spirit.


Now a few random things that don't really fit into the above but happened this weekend and need to be mentioned:

I get really excited when I see cows and sometimes mistake donkeys for them.
Speaking Swahili and having a southern accent is hard.
If you fall asleep during bible study I will Gibbs slap you in the head.
He Reigns is one of the best hype songs in existence.
Making Middle School boys laugh (especially when they are tired) is as easy as flipping a light switch and way more fun.
Rocks are Earth Mints and should be placed on pillows as such so that people feel welcomed.
NEVER let Middle School boys try and show you the way to a place they've never been. You end up hiking through the woods after showering but you usually have really good conversation while doing so.

Being called an adult on student trips is still a surprise.


Kwaheri,  (Goodbye)
Jared.

Gyroscope of Grief and Hope

I think before I speak. These past few days have been no different. Last night and the events that have taken place today have been tumbling inside my head for hours. Earlier this morning I sent a text describing that thought process as 'like my brain has downloaded a bunch of files and been tossed inside a gyroscope or maybe a blender'- basically I couldn't think straight. Even now things are not as straight as I'd prefer them to be, but clear enough that I can at least make something that resembles a coherent thought.

  Last night when my phone lit up with an alert from BBC to report that attacks in Dallas I was asleep and didn't fully realize the news the icon was informing me of until my younger brother text me a few minutes later. Then I got kind of numb and then I fell asleep. I woke to worse news than I had fallen asleep to and was met with images and video to go along with the words on my phone screen. Our world is a messed up place and tragedies are unfortunately not uncommon. You'd think that by now anything like this would just be par for the course, not that it would produce apathy, but that I wouldn't be taken by surprise.

The first half hour I was awake I did nothing but scan news stories and watch video feed of the chaos in Dallas. Then my brain pushed me out of bed. It sounds weird I know but I do my best thinking when I'm moving. So I exercised but it didn't really help as much as I was hoping it would. Then I did something completely out of the ordinary for me, I read my Bible while the sun was shining. I don't normally study during the day, like writing, I prefer to read and study my Bible when it is dark and everything is quiet. Not today. And there I found the hope I needed. Hope that doesn't dissolve the grief I feel but gives me the strength I need to deal with today. A hope that is placed in the kingdom of God where darkness doesn't exist because it can't stand the light.

  Grief though, Grief that seeps in like water through a crack and then relentlessly pours in like floodwater. Grief that reminds me just how easily life is taken and that a single second is enough to change the life of so many people. A not so gentle reminder as I watched video this morning of how many family members and friends I have who wear a badge that marked victims last night. How this was not a traffic stop gone wrong or a call response turned bad. These were men who were essentially sitting ducks while working a protest. A scene like this could have easily unfolded here a few weeks ago during Riverbend. A bunch of officers, a bunch of people, easy targets.

I think that more than anything is what makes this day so heavy. These officers were not actively responding to a distress call they were simply there like their jobs called for them to be. There were no bullets to dodge just people to protect as they exercised their right to free speech whether they agreed with the officers being there or not. You know there is a chance of harm when they are called to a scene, but standing there, that is a different story.

 When blood is shed we mourn. Life is a gift not to be squandered and the loss of it leaves a profound impact that ripples out. We bleed red and we bleed blue.



(A/N:So why a gyroscope? Because today that is where my head has been, stuck in constant motion of thought and emotion as they battled to be heard and felt. If you are wondering why I got a BBC update and not CNN,Fox, NBC, or ABC, it's because BBC reports quickly worldwide and I'm a news junkie, I want to know what is happening, where it's happening, and when.)

Free(dom)

Freedom

The word is basically a misnomer. We associate the word 'free' with gifts or giveaways. That in itself is no fault of our own, the word means exactly that. When you add the suffix 'dom' to the root word free you add a complexity that is not generally associated with the way we use free in conversation or definition. Freedom literally means free domain. When we say we have freedom we mean exactly that. America was founded by people who didn't want to be ruled over by the crown. Thereby we have a country that is a free domain.

  The problem with that is the root word. It implies that this country was founded without cost. The opposite is true. The reason this country exists is because for centuries people have given blood,life,and loved one's so that the ideals that created it can continue to thrive. We have plenty of freedoms for sure but they did not come by simply wishing they existed. We live in a society that was sacrificed for starting in 1776 and is still being fought for today.


What started as a revolution of men and women who refused to bow to the crown and wanted to choose things for themselves has become a country that represents what they wanted all those years ago;Freedom. People see America as a place where they can come and choose to live as they wish. They hear the word America and associate it with a place of choice rather than submission. We are known as the land of the free for good reason.



"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."-Beatrice Evelyn Hall

  Plenty of people disagree with war but the reason they can disagree with it is because of those who fought for them to have that right. The same can be said for all of the freedoms we have, every last one. They exist because contrary to popular belief you can have differing opinions and still want people to be free to choose those opinions. When it boils down fighting for freedom means everyone is free, not just those who think a certain way.

In as much as we are a nation that was founded by those willing to die for freedom we are a nation comprised of men and women willing to sacrifice so that others might also have that right. We are the defenders of the right that was so hardly fought for and aren't above securing it for others.


So, as you go about your weekend celebrating the birth of this nation remember that freedom is to be celebrated without certainty. But, don't mistake the name we've given to the definition. It cost the ultimate price.

For those whose blood fell to secure this freedom centuries ago.
For those whose blood was shed to obtain it for others.
For those who give blood and life even now to ensure that our freedom remains.

Thank You.

A Shift in Focus

August marks my ninth year of being in Student Ministry.  Today marked the last day of VBS for 2016. I was reminded again that there is nothing like Student Ministry. VBS is a hectic week that takes a lot out of you but gives back far more. Yes, it requires energy and patience and saps both like a battery that is powering something a little too large but the returns are ten-fold. It's fun to go crazy and get into the games we play (and I do) but the best part is discussing what they are learning. Here is where the fun begins because these kids soak it up and like to share. Watching God move in them and listening to what He is showing them never gets old.


That being said here is why this blog post was written.


I've written on Missions before and how God has changed my focus from being unsure as to how I was really supposed to be involved if I couldn't go to eagerly taking on a different aspect in a way I'd not planned.The Blessing of No and much has transpired since then.  Last year during VBS we started doing Missions with the students like they would have done in the Elementary School age kids. Where we showed them that there were people around the world that had never heard the name Jesus and those that had often died because they shared it last year, this year was focused on local mission work.

   If they were like me when I was there age I considered mission work the stuff that sent you halfway around the world to a different country or continent. Showing them how important it was that they engage here was a blast. Each day I told them about a different organization that they could help with to show Christ to the city. Though not all five of them were themselves Church related organizations the emphasis was on actually getting out and serving people without traveling around the world. It was a big change from talking about Unreached People Groups and the Persecuted Church but it was a good change.

I will gladly talk mission work with you and can do so for hours, especially if that work involves Africa. But, showing these students (and myself) that being here is important, God honoring work is something that I needed as much as they did. Most of these kids will probably not grow up to be foreign missionaries but all of them will grow up to have influence over other people at some point in their lives. If they realize now that the people they meet here need Jesus as much as the people that have never heard His name then they've got more time to influence the kids they go to school with in a time where that is desperately needed.

  I've recently been given the opportunity to help a friend as she heads to Bundibugyo,Uganda in September. If this had happened last year I can't say that I would have so easily seen the opportunity given to me. It wouldn't have felt quite so humbling to know that I'm being given a part in seeing Christ taken to the nations. As I stood on that stage this week and talked to these students I could feel God reminding me that His plan for my life was different than mine but it was better. That my job was not to go at this time but to help get those He called sent and show that there was plenty of work to do here. Christ needs to be taken to the nations and one of those nations is right here in my backyard.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to get up in front of students and have them sit and listen (minus the yelling of Jared Vinegar when I walked on or off said stage) to me talk about something God has drawn my heart towards. I'm also glad to be taught while I'm supposed to be the one teaching something.

In life most often all that is required is a shift in focus, from what you've got your eyes on to God. It isn't always easy but it is where we need to be looking.

No Agenda;Love

I woke up to a lit screen on my cellphone with alerts from BBC about a club shooting in Orlando. Confident that I was dreaming I went back to sleep. When I woke the second time I realized it was real. It didn't take long for my Twitter feed to fill with the agendas of the rich and famous and politicians. You know the kind; Stricter gun control,close the borders, death to Muslims. These were laced with prayers and thoughts of support for the people of Orlando but still they pushed an agenda.

  Do I agree with homosexuality? Not by a long shot. I feel that it is wrong. But, when we cannot come together as people and grieve over the loss of life we have a problem. Fifty people were killed because one man decided that he didn't agree with the way they lived so they needed to die. Instead of grieving and loving as we should the country is instead arguing about what needs to be done. This is a problem. We need to take a step back and give these people the respect they deserve, that doesn't mean squabbling like a bunch of dogs over a bone. Instead, it means ignoring the things that we disagree on and uniting under the commonality of being humans.

The world isn't populated by robots. When we bleed it is red. Our differences do not make us less human they are what makes us human. If we can't come together for a single day to recognize that all life is valuable it doesn't matter what you agree or disagree with, we might as well quit while we are ahead and just do away with any and all civility. These people deserve more than that. They should be mourned, they should not be used as bargaining chips. By doing so we cheapen their lives and dishonor them.

  I couldn't care less if you want guns banned. It doesn't matter that you want to close our borders. All I'm asking is for a single day, just take a step back,breathe, and remember those who lost their lives. Mourn, grieve, and pray for their families. They do not need those they lost to be tossed around as fodder to get a law passed or to make a point. They need support. When we fight we are not accomplishing anything but allowing the hate that was shown this morning to win.

I watched a city and a world unite almost a year ago when my own town was attacked by a terrorist. Orlando needs us to unite now. No agenda, just love.

A Different Shade of Gratitude

Warning:The following post is perhaps not for the faint of heart.




If you ask most people what they are thankful for having you are going to get a massive generalization. They will tell you the run of the mill things that will not be a surprise or at odds with most everyone that you ask. I'm going to go against the grain with this post. If you didn't find me strange before you might decide I'm insane after this, so it was nice knowing you.

  I'm thankful for the ability to raise,kill, and eat my own food. There is a massive chasm in what we eat and how it gets to our plates. I've been blessed with the ability to close that gap a little, and hopefully will be able to do it more. So in the future essentially most everything I eat will be grown or raised at my house, by my hands. I never thought I'd be someone who was thankful for being able to kill anything, then I butchered my first chicken. (I don't count hunting/fishing because those animals are wild and are not raised by hand). It might be messy business but it is interesting to say the least. People would look at food much differently if they could have a hand in the entire process that it takes to go from tiny creature to ready to eat or tiny seed to producing plant.

At this point we go to a grocery store grab some cellophane wrapped meat and we go home. There is no knowledge of what you are eating or where it came from, it's essentially like grabbing fast food without the preservatives. I understand that the thought of killing an animal on your own makes plenty of people squeamish. But, from personal experience there is both a sense of pride and accomplishment at knowing what you are eating and how it was raised. I'm not talking about the sticker on a package, but full knowledge of what that animal ate,where it slept, how it was cared for and how it was killed. Most people don't want to know that but I think if they did that they would eat differently. Not that I'm encouraging you to become a vegetarian (I like meat and am looking forward to the day when I can butcher my first pig,cow, and sheep). It is just far more enjoyable to know that what you are eating has had no hormones or chemicals pumped into it and was not raised in a cage roughly the size of a shoe box and you can be sure of it because you raised it yourself.

  Understand I'm not trying to guilt anyone or shame you because I still eat food from the grocery store. I don't own the land or the animals required to feed myself at this point. I just happen to know what it is like to raise an animal for the purpose of eating it. There's a startup in Seattle called Crowdcow that is allowing buyers to see the cow they will be eating before it is killed. That is a big deal,especially in this day in age where buying a cow for someone to raise isn't the norm. If you can't raise the cow knowing where it came from and how it was raised is important. It also connects you to the animal you are eating in a way that you aren't go to get by going to Mcdonald's or Burger King.

I told you I was going to go against the grain. Most people wouldn't think about killing anything to eat it, certainly not in a way that prompts gratitude. I am not most people. I'm grateful to have the opportunities that I do.

(Irrelevant to the fact of killing animals but I also greatly enjoy my garden and it is usually more labor intensive than raising animals except on days I'm cleaning pens. Animals require food,water,shelter, and making sure they are alive. Plants require so much more, especially if you plant a lot of things) 



 

 

The Sokovia Accords and Persecution

Spoiler Alert: This blog post is prompted by the plot of Captain America:Civil War. If you've not seen it then I'm breaking down the main plot but if you've seen the trailers it is nothing that you don't already know.


You've been warned.


I'm not the type of person to just go and see a movie. I dissect it. I'm a writer and I read into things when I experience them. This includes movies. I pick apart plot lines and dialogue and let it roll around in my brain until ideas are formed. If you've read this blog for awhile you will have seen the results of this in the form of posts on takeaways from 42:More Than a Simple Baseball Movie , It Means Hope: My takeaway from Man of Steel , The Hero Complex and the Common Man (The Amazing Spider-man 2) , The Good Lie, American Sniper. When I saw Captain America:Civil War last Thursday night all this filled my head.


  The basis of this new movie (the best superhero movie I've ever seen) is that the Avengers have caused massive amounts of damage and very high civilian casualties. The result of all of it is the powers that be have decided that super powered beings needed to be registered and controlled. This idea becomes the Sokovia Accords and essentially gives various governments control of where these men and women can help and how they can employ the gifts they have for the greater good of mankind. Therein lies the problem, Captain America and his gang are against the idea (the guy fought Hitler and saw what happened when government had too much power) and Iron-Man and those who side with him agree with the Accords and they sign. It becomes an us against them fiasco etc etc and you get awesome fights because of it.

Now, this is where the persecution part of the title comes into play. It is no surprise that our brothers and sisters around the world do not have the freedoms we do when it comes to worshiping and sharing our faith with others. But, as laws are quickly changing here in the states that do not in general favor the Christian faith (we are quickly becoming a minority). The idea that something like the Sokovia Accords could be put into practice isn't altogether outlandish. You need only to look at the Chinese state sanctioned three-fold patriotic movement and the 'churches' that have come from it to see that. These are places that are controlled by the government. What is taught is not God's word but propaganda that cannot be disputed. Daring to teach the actual gospel is asking to be thrown into prison or worse.

  A law being passed that would require Christians to identify themselves and worship in specific places with rigid sermons and not evangelize etc is not actually out of the realm of possibility. The Church would no doubt look much different because it would show exactly who the true followers of Christ are akin to the Secret Churches around the world. Much like the Avengers and the Sokovia Accords it would likely rip churches and families apart. Some would agree and register, others wouldn't bow to the law and would be by the eyes of the law, criminals.

I actually attended our youth choir's musical tonight that dealt with this exact scenario, Christianity was outlawed and what was happening in the musical was the result. A bunch of teenagers and families who loved Christ far more than their own freedom,lives, and reputations and faced the consequences because of their choice to break the law.

  While I'm not saying all this to try and convince you that we are all going to be considered criminals in the coming times I am pointing out that it's a possibility. After all, persecution is a promise.

“Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.  Beware of men, for they will deliver you over to courts and flog you in their synagogues, and you will be dragged before governors and kings for my sake, to bear witness before them and the Gentiles.  When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you. Brother will deliver brother over to death, and the father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death."-Matthew 10:16-22

Persecution is the best way to weed out those who simply say they follow Christ. Those who endure it will do so by hanging on the promise of Christ that it is identifying them with Him and His sacrifice. When things get hard or scary it will get easy to just fall away and be like everyone else. That is easy now, it will be even easier when the threat of prison or death is tacked onto the name 'Christian'. 

  If such a thing were to happen there is no doubt in my mind  that the Church would flourish in America. The proof of that is in the places were such evident and outspoken faith gets you killed. These are the places where the gospel is changing lives, where there is risk, where faith costs more than harsh words. Take away the perfect buildings and traditions we've built and give us only the gospel and it isn't hard to imagine a people that cling to God because He is all they have. Worshiping him comes with risks but it also comes with rewards, more of Him.

Like I said I read into things. I'm sure that the Russo brothers didn't intend for this to be the message of Civil War. But, fiction is scariest when it is tinged with just enough reality to make it possible.

For what it's worth #TeamCap.