I tell people in my congregation this and I never know if they believe me, but, when it comes to evangelism—communicating and conveying the good news of Jesus Christ—they have it much harder than I do. The very nature of my profession gives me an “in.” People expect me to be able to talk about God and, sometimes, they feel comfortable asking questions about God or whatever. It’s harder if you’re an accountant or teacher or dishwasher. People expect you to talk about numbers or your subject or whatever’s on your mind, except maybe religion. But I got a chance to do a kind-of evangelistic cold call Wednesday and, even though I have no idea if it will bear fruit, I’m glad I did.
We had dinner with another family last weekend and the mom mentioned that their neighbors had told them that they were looking for a church and that they had grown up in the Methodist church. I didn’t know what to do with this information so I just figured I’d leave it up to the Spirit to handle it. The Spirit did. Wed. night we were at an ice-cream social at the preschool my daughter went to and my wife noted (she evidently had met them before) that the aforementioned family (the one without a church) was present. At least part of them were--the dad and three kids. I surprised myself a bit by feeling somewhat confident in approaching them. I introduced myself, said I’d heard from their neighbor that they were looking for a church and gave him my business card. He was a bit taken aback, I think, and didn’t know quite what to say, but he said thanks and I left.
Who knows where this will lead or if they’ll even pay us a visit? But the encounter was a blessing to me.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
God is dog spelled backwards
We've had our dog, Stella, now for about 7 1/2 years. She really is very friendly (most of the time) and, I suppose, considered part of the family. Most of the time. She's also gone through what many dogs go through in her situation--demotion in the family hierarchy. Before kids, she got many walks, play times, belly rubs, etc. Now, she's nice to have around, but doesn't get the TLC she used to. Unfortunately, sometimes she's only really noticed when she does something bad, like yesterday, for instance.
Stella barks at dogs when they walk by our house, but she really loses it when a dog comes by that's not on a leash (which is a violation of a Highland Park ordinance, fyi). She really, really loses it when a particular dog comes by. She has a history with this dog. Before yesterday, there have been two instances when Stella got loose and chased after the dog much to our chagrin and much to the anger of the other dog's owners. That's a long story I won't get into. Yesterday was Incident 3 with this dog. The front door was left ajar, the dog (off leash) comes trotting by with its owner, Stella gets out, chase ensues. Anne was upset about it after telling me about it and I kind of stressed about it, too. Would the owners confront us? Call animal control? My anxiety level was too high for the rest of the day.
That's the point I'm making in all this. One of my growing edges is my inability to give things to God, especially seemingly minor things. I fret too much rather than being in prayer. I try to control rather than letting loose. Dear Lord, help me with this one.
Stella barks at dogs when they walk by our house, but she really loses it when a dog comes by that's not on a leash (which is a violation of a Highland Park ordinance, fyi). She really, really loses it when a particular dog comes by. She has a history with this dog. Before yesterday, there have been two instances when Stella got loose and chased after the dog much to our chagrin and much to the anger of the other dog's owners. That's a long story I won't get into. Yesterday was Incident 3 with this dog. The front door was left ajar, the dog (off leash) comes trotting by with its owner, Stella gets out, chase ensues. Anne was upset about it after telling me about it and I kind of stressed about it, too. Would the owners confront us? Call animal control? My anxiety level was too high for the rest of the day.
That's the point I'm making in all this. One of my growing edges is my inability to give things to God, especially seemingly minor things. I fret too much rather than being in prayer. I try to control rather than letting loose. Dear Lord, help me with this one.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Let's just watch the game
Some (many?) blogs are by their very nature exercises in selfishness. When folks ask me what my blog is about, I have to be pretty honest. Me. There's more to it than that, I guess. I'd like to think it's God and me, but the me is definitely in there. Anyway, I try to avoid navel gazing as best I can, but today's post will fall into the selfishness category..
As I was running last Sunday morning, I tried to think of a fatherly thing to do with my kids and wondered if the Milwaukee Brewers were in town so I could take my 5-year-old to a game. I came home, checked the paper and the Brewers were playing at home. I actually prefer going to Milwaukee to see baseball these days. It's only about 75 minutes away, the parking is better, it's a new park, and seats are available. Most of the time.
We headed north right after church, I only answered "How much longer?" four times, we played some intense games of "I Spy," and made it there about 20 minutes before the game started. But it took forever to get into the parking lot. I decided to pay more ($12) for "Preferred Parking" so we wouldn't have to walk as far, but we were stuck for quite some time in a long line of cars. I turned on the radio to listen to the game and Bob Uecker (the announcer) noted the size of the crowd. He wasn't surprised, after all, because "it's a sell-out." I couldn't believe it. I didn't even check before I left because Brewer games are never sold out. We waited another 20 minutes or so to park (and the parking wasn't that preferred) and I wondered if we'd wasted $12 for a game we couldn't attend. They did have standing-room-only tickets so I bit the bullet and decided we'd chance it.
We made our way up to the top level of the stadium and came upon a kids area with a playground. They had a special kids concession stand there, too, so we ordered our food, found a spot on a bench and ate our hot dogs. I watched the game on a TV monitor and Caroline eagerly awaited to play in the playground. We finished, made our way over there and the woman stopped Caroline.
"She has to have socks on."
"What?"
"She has to have socks on to go in there." Caroline was wearing sandals so was barefoot at this moment.
"How about if she puts her sandals on?"
A shake of the head. "Nope. Only socks."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"You can buy some socks the gift store."
Of course you can. Caroline took this better than I did. I was muttering as we walked away and then a roar from the crowd came through the gates. I grabbed Caroline's hand and we ran out to see what happened. A Brewer home run and Bernie the Brewer sliding down his special slide. I spotted a couple of empty seats, asked the guy if we could sit there and he nodded. So, we actually watched some baseball for a couple innings and Caroline seemed to be enjoying it. We took off to explore some more and, at one point, Caroline said to me, "Daddy, can't we just watch the game?" Beautiful words to my ears. If only we had seats.
There was another kids area with one of those enclosed trampolines and she had fun doing that while I had a great view of the scoreboard and a bit of centerfield. After the 7th, I asked if she wanted to go home and she said yes pretty quickly.
I rarely have had such a frustrating and completely enjoyable experience. Hmmm, a little like fatherhood, perhaps.
As I was running last Sunday morning, I tried to think of a fatherly thing to do with my kids and wondered if the Milwaukee Brewers were in town so I could take my 5-year-old to a game. I came home, checked the paper and the Brewers were playing at home. I actually prefer going to Milwaukee to see baseball these days. It's only about 75 minutes away, the parking is better, it's a new park, and seats are available. Most of the time.
We headed north right after church, I only answered "How much longer?" four times, we played some intense games of "I Spy," and made it there about 20 minutes before the game started. But it took forever to get into the parking lot. I decided to pay more ($12) for "Preferred Parking" so we wouldn't have to walk as far, but we were stuck for quite some time in a long line of cars. I turned on the radio to listen to the game and Bob Uecker (the announcer) noted the size of the crowd. He wasn't surprised, after all, because "it's a sell-out." I couldn't believe it. I didn't even check before I left because Brewer games are never sold out. We waited another 20 minutes or so to park (and the parking wasn't that preferred) and I wondered if we'd wasted $12 for a game we couldn't attend. They did have standing-room-only tickets so I bit the bullet and decided we'd chance it.
We made our way up to the top level of the stadium and came upon a kids area with a playground. They had a special kids concession stand there, too, so we ordered our food, found a spot on a bench and ate our hot dogs. I watched the game on a TV monitor and Caroline eagerly awaited to play in the playground. We finished, made our way over there and the woman stopped Caroline.
"She has to have socks on."
"What?"
"She has to have socks on to go in there." Caroline was wearing sandals so was barefoot at this moment.
"How about if she puts her sandals on?"
A shake of the head. "Nope. Only socks."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"You can buy some socks the gift store."
Of course you can. Caroline took this better than I did. I was muttering as we walked away and then a roar from the crowd came through the gates. I grabbed Caroline's hand and we ran out to see what happened. A Brewer home run and Bernie the Brewer sliding down his special slide. I spotted a couple of empty seats, asked the guy if we could sit there and he nodded. So, we actually watched some baseball for a couple innings and Caroline seemed to be enjoying it. We took off to explore some more and, at one point, Caroline said to me, "Daddy, can't we just watch the game?" Beautiful words to my ears. If only we had seats.
There was another kids area with one of those enclosed trampolines and she had fun doing that while I had a great view of the scoreboard and a bit of centerfield. After the 7th, I asked if she wanted to go home and she said yes pretty quickly.
I rarely have had such a frustrating and completely enjoyable experience. Hmmm, a little like fatherhood, perhaps.
Friday, June 09, 2006
I once was lost...
I was unbelievably happy a few weeks ago when I received a particular item in the mail--the announcement for my 20-year high school reunion. It wasn't the announcement itself that had me excited (though I am going and will write about that in my next entry), it was the fact that the organizers knew where I was.
I graduated with a class of about 130 which, in Iowa, is a pretty good size. I was active in different things so I felt like I knew most of my classmates pretty well; I keep in touch with a few of them. It was disheartening, then, for our 5-year class reunion when a friend of mine called and told me (a little too gleefully, I thought) that I was officially lost. Huh? Apparently in the local paper, the reunion organizers had put together a list of people they had no address or phone for. There were about 10 listed. The lost. I couldn't believe it. I kept in touch with quite a few of my classmates and I was still lost. The same thing happened for my 10-year reunion and 15-year reunion (which I didn't attend). Part of the problem, I'm guessing, is that my parents don't live in my hometown any more, but it's still pretty humbling to be on the list of the lost.
But not this year.
I don't know why things have changed, but somebody knows where I am. In fact, when I called that friend to ask if he'd received the reunion announcement, he said he hadn't. Now he was lost! What a great feeling to be found.
"And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!" And they began to celebrate.--Luke 15:23-24
I graduated with a class of about 130 which, in Iowa, is a pretty good size. I was active in different things so I felt like I knew most of my classmates pretty well; I keep in touch with a few of them. It was disheartening, then, for our 5-year class reunion when a friend of mine called and told me (a little too gleefully, I thought) that I was officially lost. Huh? Apparently in the local paper, the reunion organizers had put together a list of people they had no address or phone for. There were about 10 listed. The lost. I couldn't believe it. I kept in touch with quite a few of my classmates and I was still lost. The same thing happened for my 10-year reunion and 15-year reunion (which I didn't attend). Part of the problem, I'm guessing, is that my parents don't live in my hometown any more, but it's still pretty humbling to be on the list of the lost.
But not this year.
I don't know why things have changed, but somebody knows where I am. In fact, when I called that friend to ask if he'd received the reunion announcement, he said he hadn't. Now he was lost! What a great feeling to be found.
"And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!" And they began to celebrate.--Luke 15:23-24
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Advertising in the police blotter
Our marketing team has been getting together to talk about another publicity campaign in September about our church, including mailings, banners, and newspaper ads. We have an ad coming to us from the local paper because of a mix-up at Easter and a previous ad didn't make it in. I noticed during Easter that the Willow Creek megachurch advertised in our local paper only they didn't do in the special religious section, they advertised in the Entertainment section. I assume it's to differentiate themselves and also with the belief that people look at ads more closely in that section (I'll leave the comments alone about megachurch worship being simply entertainment).
We discovered something, however, when talking to one of the newspaper reps. The most widely read section in the newspaper is actually the police blotter. I can think of no better place to put an ad. A place that signifies at least a little brokenness. It's the broken places that the church needs to be.
We discovered something, however, when talking to one of the newspaper reps. The most widely read section in the newspaper is actually the police blotter. I can think of no better place to put an ad. A place that signifies at least a little brokenness. It's the broken places that the church needs to be.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Nightmare on Elm (was it Elm?) Street
I know I'm stressed when I have one of four dreams. There's the classic, attending a class for my final and realizing I haven't shown up all semester. That seems to be a universal dream. I have three others are are fairly similar. One is basic, which goes back to my days in theatre in college. That dream has me forgetting or not knowing my lines. Another is more recent and usually entails a packed sanctuary and me unable to get my robe on or being late for the service. The final one is one that actually came true last Saturday. I was running in a 10K race in Western Springs. I was feeling pretty good through the first two miles (a 10K is 6.2 miles) and had a sense that mile 3 was coming up. There were about 10 people ahead of me and we were running down a street when a guy next to me stopped and said, "I think we need to turn there." I yelled out, "Turn!" and a few of us turned around to go down a different street. Another woman was there, however, and said, "No, no, the lead guy kept going straight. You've got to go straight!" A quick decision had to be made. Bad dream coming true--running the wrong way during a road race. The guy who first said we need to turn turned. I decided to keep going straight. I should have followed him. I ended up (along with a few others) running about 3/4 of a mile out of the way. When I finally realized that, it was disheartening and my energy got sapped pretty quickly (the heat probably had something to do with that, too).
What a struggle when you have a feeling that you're going in the wrong direction. Wasted energy, loneliness, anger at innocent people. I've been reading Psalm 25 this week, which seems to apply: "Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long" (Ps 25:4-5).
Make me know your ways, O Lord, even when I go the wrong way.
What a struggle when you have a feeling that you're going in the wrong direction. Wasted energy, loneliness, anger at innocent people. I've been reading Psalm 25 this week, which seems to apply: "Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long" (Ps 25:4-5).
Make me know your ways, O Lord, even when I go the wrong way.
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