An Unusual Man

It's been an interesting Christmas season.  This time of year is usually a financially difficult time for me.  As a handyman, most people don't want you in their house tearing things up from Thanksgiving through the New Years.  I've tried thinking of many ways to boost my income during this time of year, but only the Lord can do it as wells as He's done it this year.  Needless to say, I've put in long hours, and made enough money to carry me through to the New Year, with a short waiting list of people needing me to do work for them.

Strangely, as I've gone through this past year, I've been working with a local businessman who's shown me what it's like to have the mind of Christ.  He isn't family, but I care for him as if he were.  I believe he was sent by God to help me through this dry season, and to teach me how to have the mind of Christ. To many in the community I live in, he is a rich man.  People have abused his wealth, because he has a good heart.  At the same time, it is obvious he would like to lash out, like any of us would, at those who've hurt him.  It would be even easier to succumb to the power in wealth, and lock up the bowels of compassion.  He could cash out at any time, and leave a great deal of people writhing in the dust.  BUT. . . . he doesn't.  I've often stepped into his place of business and found him and his wife praying.  They could be bitter, bitter people enveloped in hate, and wrath, but they aren't.

The mind of Christ is to accept the persecution, the abuse, the falsehoods, the outright lies, and love those who've hurt you.  You see, it is the power to forgive, and even reconcile, that makes us 'supernatural.'   Christ gave us that power.  It is human nature to dominate, control, and abuse.  Christ gives us the ability to live above the the natural tendencies.  When we are born again, and his presence fill our hearts, we find ourselves able to live as he lived.  Not in some legalistic abstinence from life, but embracing the people who fail, knowing full well that we ourselves have failed.  We overlook the evil others do to us, knowing that it is God who owns vengeance.  His retribution is more sure, but even in that, he gave us, His children a way to be like him.  In forgiving others, we remove the need for him to exact vengeance.  He can breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that we have become like Him.  Extending mercy to those whom mercy is not due, giving grace to those who don't merit it, and loving all men, because they are made in HIS likeness.  Christ extended healing to those who were steeped in sin, gave forgiveness to those who abused him, and prayed for mercy for those who murdered him as he hung upon the cross.  That is the mind I want.

Selling Jesus

I've only been a salesman once in my life.  I'm not knocking it for those who do it.  Back in 1976, I did a short stint selling Harley Davidson Motorcycles, (Actually bowling pin motorcycles, as they were owned by AMF at the time.)  I grew up around Harleys, and I believed in them, so, selling them wasn't hard for me.  I actually enjoyed selling them, because I enjoyed selling people something I enjoyed myself.  There was a day when being a 'peddler,' or 'merchant' was a noble profession.  I can still remember the Fuller Brush salesman who knew my mother by name, or the milkman who delivered the milk to my grandmother many years ago.  Avon, Mary Kay, Tupperware, and on, and on, and. . . .Well you get the picture.  Men, are more industrial in their acceptance of sales people.  I myself tend to despise the salesman who tells me I have to have his product.  I especially despise the salesman who calls me without having tried to meet me first.  I despise gimmicks   Sell me the product, not the peanut brittle you have in your hand.  AND, when you leave, leave the peanut brittle.  If you are the manager of any sort, you know what I mean.  

What concerns me is the selling of Jesus.  I'm not talking about the shameless hucksterism that has always been a part of the Christian experience.  From the birth of Christianity, there were always those who saw a quick buck to be made in selling Jesus.  The Apostle Paul bemoaned their existence, but looked at them as one more way that people came to a knowledge of Jesus Christ.  He didn't care how Christ was glorified, but was overjoyed that Christ was preached.

I don't know if I'm as tolerant as Paul.  As the pendulum of public approval for Christians begins to swing back toward antagonism, I wonder if the hucksters aren't doing us more damage than good. I don't think you can 'sell' the relationship that is derived from the presence of God being in your life. I'm not talking about those people who offer you dancing angel mirror balls for your generous love offering.  These people are like the money changers in the Temple court.  They are obvious, and at the same time oblivious to what they are doing.  What I'm talking about are the people who promise you that a life with Christ will be a bed of roses, a walk in the park, tea at tea time, and a host of other platitudes that are far from truthful.  This thinking is clearly seen when you start pushing against them with even a hint of persecution, or let discomfort, or trials enter into their life.  BUT, I thought. . .  You said . . . .I spoke. . . I claimed. . . .WHY!!!!!!???????  Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.  I don't want to be different.

The real Presence of God will make you different.  The Presence of God will raise the hackles on the back of the 'world.'  The Presence of God casts it's light into the dark corners of men's lives, and makes them uncomfortable.  The purveyors of the pasty, wimpy, and murdered Jesus, don't want you to realize the power of the resurrected, living Jesus.  Jesus on the cross is acceptable, Jesus in the tomb is preferred, but Jesus cooking fish by the seashore is offensive.  The Presence of God burns away the desires for the things of this world and leaves you a smoking offering of love to a dying world.  COMFORT?   I don't think so.  You can sell a hundred thousand crosses, but few people want to carry their own.  Those who sell a 'feel good' Jesus don't really believe in what they are 'selling.'  They aren't familiar with the product.

We don't have to sell Jesus.  All we have to do is give away what he gave us to give.  Therein lies the problem.  He gave us the power to Heal, Save, and Deliver men, and women.  He left His Spirit here for us to know He was still here.  You can't sell these things.  I can't sell you something you can't see, taste, or touch.  What I can do, is be Him for you.  THAT'S THE HARD PART.  That is how you will know He is real.  I know this much, I can't live without him.  I want you to feel the same way.  That is my heart set before all men.  I love this man named Jesus Christ, even though I've never seen him.  My life with HIM is not the same as it was without him.  I've been sick, injured, addicted, persecuted, beat down, destitute, and looked death in the eye, but in all of this I've never felt alone.  That, my friends, is the testament to His Presence.  He said he would not leave us as orphans.  He will not abandon us, even if we abandon Him.

oooooppppps!  I'm selling Jesus.

Try Him, I think you'll like Him.

A Community of Brothers

It's been a while since I sat down to write from the Sparrow's perch.  I needed to do a major renovation on my home in order to accommodate all of my children coming for Thanksgiving. With winter just around the corner, the sparrows don't flit and twitter outside my window, and my office is colder.  During the summer, I can open the window, and turn on the fan, but there is only one way to get warm during the winter.  My work schedule for the day gave me a short breather this morning, and I decided to take advantage of it.

As the Men's pastor for our congregation, I've been blessed to shepherd some of the most wonderful men I know. For the last year, we've been studying a book by Wes Yoder, titled: Bond of Brothers.  (There's more to the title, but it would give away what I'm about to say.) We're in the final chapter, and it is amazing how pertinent it is to what is going on in my own life. I'm in the waning years of my life, and while I'm not concerned with dying, I am concerned with how I exit this life.  If my family's genetics are written on me, and I've not circumvented them with stupid living habits, I should live well into my late seventies, even to my eighties.  Both of my grandmothers lived way past their eighties, and my paternal grandmother lived till she was in her nineties.  Needless to say, I anticipate a few more years, so I'm not being melodramatic when I talk about death.  I've just moved closer to the inevitable exit at the back of the theater.  Wes Yoder brings the important issues of being a Christ-man to the fore-front, and places them in their proper priority.  One of the things he makes so clear, is the Christ community is in trouble.  As I thought on this, I came away with a profound image of the man I want to be.

As anyone who's read this blog should know, I'm big on living in the presence of God. The title of this blog is derived from the Psalms where the Psalmist would sit outside the Tabernacle, and watch the sparrows move freely in and out of the one place men were forbidden to go.  Then, Christ opened a new, and more excellent way into the Holy of Holies.  Now, we can all go freely where only sparrows could go before.  If we want, we can even crawl up into the Father's lap, and say; 'abba'  (Daddy.)  Imagine, you the created, jumping into the Creator's lap, and calling him 'Daddy.'  It is a remarkable place of awe, inspiration, joy, and even provision.  Who better to take care of you than your Daddy?  AND, what a Daddy he is.

As I read Wes Yoders final chapter, it suddenly came upon me that the work of the Cross brought the Presence of God into a different light.  We don't just climb up in the Father's lap alone.  We are part of a larger being, with different needs than our own petty needs.  The community of faith, albeit strained and imperfect, is the presence of Christ.  The men who allow me to lead them, give to me a greater experience of God's presence than I can have on my own.  If I want to know the Father's heart, He gives me brothers to show me His heart.

Knowing the Father's heart without my brothers is a scary thought.  IF, (suppositional)  the Father is compassionate, He will bless me with people who are in need of compassion.  If the Father is kind, He will demand that I show kindness to those for whom the act means nothing.  If I am to learn how to be gentle, He will bless me with brutish men who try my own strength.  Within this body of men I call my brothers, who seek His Presence as I do, the bond of brothers moves me to evaluate my actions in light of their actions.  We encourage, build up, admonish, and teach one another.  Here in the presence of each other, we hone the edge of our relationship, so that our walk through this earthly vale will be as Christ walks.

ALONE, I am not the body of Christ.  It is only as I yield, (or better yet, the ugly word - SUBMIT,) to my brothers, that I find myself in the presence of Christ.  Alone, I do what I do as a member of that body.  I consider myself to be the less comely member, the one that is kept clothed (hidden) and hidden from view.  I know me better than anyone.  I tend to be abrupt, sharp, and to the point. My interests are few, and my tolerance low.  Yet, somehow when I am with my brothers in the Lord, these qualities disappear into a gentler, kinder, and less brutish persona . . . .Christ.    Christ is the Presence of God, and when I am with my Brothers in the Lord, he is more real than at any other time.  

THIS SKIN I'M IN

I can’t remember a moment in my life when I wasn't aware of . . . GOD. 

Even in those times of perverse delight in the wicked pleasures of this world, I knew HE existed.  I've lived in fear of HIM, loved HIM, and have always wanted to be as close to HIM as He would allow.  What I didn't know, is that HE will let me get as close as I want.  I'd always been taught that in order to get close to him, I would have to die. From childhood, I've always seen death as the end to the struggle between my skin, and my spirit.  I've wrestled with the great adversary of our souls, and tweaked his nose on more than one occasion.  He threatened to kill me numerous times, and I told him to go ahead, do your best.  ( I knew my days were in God’s hands, not some amateur wanting to be God.)  I've always got a kick out of the people who say, “You don’t want to torque the devil off, he’ll take you out.”  

He can’t take me out. 

It’s a moot point. I've already been taken out. The last I knew, this skin I’m in will die.  I was born dead, but now I’m born again.  Forty-seven years ago, I received spiritual CPR, and this skin I’m in became a new creation.  I can’t live in fear of death, and claim to know the one who died to give me life.  As for being afraid of the devil, when I was born again, I was destined to wrestle with the powers, and principalities of the air.  The devil can’t stand the Spirit of Christ dwelling within a bag of bones, and skin.  Actually, the guy that really bothers me, is the one who used to live in the skin I’m in.

NO, I’m not mentally ill, although some people might argue that point. A matter of fact, I’m sure that Psychologists would have a field day in many churches.  (If you really want to mess with a psychologist, begin talking between your id, ego, and talk to your hand as if it were a sock puppet.)  When they begin to cock an eyebrow, look at them with a big wide grin, and say;  “You bought it!  You’re so gullible!” 

 

This skin I’m in is growing tired physically.  To wax scriptural, my tent is becoming threadbare.  I wasn't prepared for that.  Actually, I never thought I would live beyond my sixteenth year.  This bothered me for a long time.  Scriptural error, false teaching, and even my own misunderstanding messed me up.  I had a messed up idea of what salvation was.  Sometime around my thirties, I began to doubt God’s mercy, until I found out one little truth; this skin I’m in can bring glory to God.  It’s not messed up!  This skin can house the Glory and Presence of God.  This skin isn't wicked or evil.  I don’t have a genetic code to do evil.  My new DNA is written with a heavenly code that loves the things of God.  My heart pulses with a transfusion of the blood of Christ.  It isn't a few more weary days and then I’ll fly away.  I’m not “just an old sinner saved by grace.”  I’m the light and life of Christ.  This earthly tabernacle is left here to house the presence of God, not be a repository for a stinking corpse.  I am a new creation in Christ Jesus, and I will walk from life to life. 

I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here on this earth.  Both sides of my family tree are blessed with long life. If my family is any indication, I still have a good twenty more years.  I don’t know what my last days will be like, but I do know that the joy of being in this skin will be nothing compared to what I will experience beyond this present vale.  

Like the little sparrows that flew in and out of the tabernacle, I will rest in God’s provision, nestle under his wing, and watch with gladness as the fowler’s snare sits empty.  

This skin I’m in is blessed. 

In The Garden

It's official, by the National Weather Service at least.  The growing season is over here in Harrison, Arkansas.  The last four days with nighttime temps reaching into the low 30's forced them to declare what we already knew.  Winter is on it's way.  Sparrows, starlings, and a host of other birds were forming huge swirling flocks that resembled clouds more than flocks.  My office above the church is a little chilly, but I don't need to run the heater.  I'll be leaving in just a little while to go back out to a finger of land out on Bull Shoals lake.  
I was working out on the far fringes of Bull Shoals lake yesterday, without cell phone service, and will be doing so for the rest of the week. In my 'cloistered' work environment, I found myself enjoying the silence and the contemplation.  Then, it hit me, those moments when a song jumps into your head, and you can't lose it.  "I come to the garden alone. . . ."   ALL DAY LONG.  I sang it loud, (no one is around)  I sang it slow, fast, jazzy, I even gargled it.  You know you're messed up when you gargle a song.  I laughed, cried, and even stopped to pray for a while.  After messing around with it for quite a while, it hit me; I was in His Presence.  Which suddenly put me in a profound sense of shock.  HOW?  I'd just twisted one of the most endearing hymns of the Church into . . . .only the Lord knows.
From that profound sense of shock, I slipped into an even deeper state of intimacy.  I was like a little child who'd been caught singing while in the tub. The Father of all creation was whipping out the video camera, and enjoying His child.  I'm not a dour person by any means.  I don't like mean humor (which is what most of TV puts out, today).  I grew up devouring the comics section of the newspaper.  I never liked it when Lucy pulled the ball away from Charlie, or Limpid Lizard teased Bucolic Buffalo. I used to laugh a lot more than I do today.  The Muppet Show, will always be one of my favorite TV shows.  Laughter is good medicine, just not wicked laughter.
Fear kills laughter.  Fear, doubt, and worry are the side affects of being outside of the Father's presence.  I know!  This past month has been a stressful month.  Not because I hadn't had enough work to make bills, but because I allowed myself to worry about it.  You see, as I look back over the last month, I couldn't see where worrying about it, made work appear for me.  Yesterday, even though I didn't have two dimes to rub together.  I was enjoying the Presence of God in a playful almost childlike way.  I'd allowed my heart to be sick, and the message from the Lord was simple.  "I'm in the boat with you.  I'm in the garden with you, but I'm not worried.  Where I am, is fullness of joy."  
The second sin in the garden, was worry.  "I knew I was naked."   What am I to do with my nakedness?
As I thought on this, I was suddenly filled with the sensation that God was laughing. He sees me all the time in my nakedness.  Not my physical nakedness (which is a complete gross thought.)  He sees me in my spiritual nakedness.  He sees my form, the spiritual being that is David Bragg.  I was his little boy in the bathtub singing to himself because I thought no one was around.  As parents, we all know that all is right with the world, when our children are singing in the bath.
Today, I'm going to take my radio, put on some Jesus Culture, and make it echo across the lake.   If I started to sing 'In The Garden' today, it would seem a little contrived.

The Covenant of Love

This is a difficult blog to post.  As I worked my way through this morning's headlines, I stumbled upon one that broke my heart. It goes to an issue deep at the heart of what we are as Christians, and whether we lose our way in our understanding of WHO God is.  I don't want to mention names, so I'll try and sanitize the story as best as I can.  A man sitting outside of a Planned Parenthood clinic was beaten, and stabbed numerous times by a man protesting the clinic.  While the circumstances of the beating aren't clear, the alleged assailant was a man who'd been protesting at the clinic for a long time now.  I know that the assailant's daughter was somehow mixed up in the assault, but at issue is the anger that brings us to the point of accosting people, and causing them harm.  The assailant had been involved in other angry outbursts before this last one.  Murderous passion is not found within the Covenant of Love.  

Please, don't get me wrong. I detest abortion at all levels.  As the father of three children, and grandfather of five, I've seen the miracle of life in it's truest expression.  I can't imagine this life without any of those children.  The statistics prove that modern abortions are performed for convenience more than the safety of the mother.  According to one statistic, 90% of infants diagnosed with down syndrome are aborted.  I can't help but wonder if someday you can justify an abortion because the child could be born with the wrong color of eyes.  Abortions are exactly what the word means, aborted life.  We can try to candy coat it, give them credibility, or justify them in instances of rape or incest, but the end result is that abortions are an end to a life.  At many levels, we are an antiseptic society, that still picks our nose with the hand we just wiped our rear with.  Abortion is the little brown spot, that let's us know where our hand has been.   As a Christian, I could allow myself to become outraged at the amount of abortions performed each year.  When the truth is, the abortion rate is declining.  I'd like to think we are winning in the information battle against Planned Parenthood.  

Over the years, I've seen the Pro-Life stance become so hostile that we believed it was alright to execute abortion doctors, blow up clinics, and physically accost people going into the clinics.  Sadly, a good portion of these people felt they were on a holy crusade to rid the world of the evil of abortion.  In their righteous indignation, they became convinced that God gave them permission to kill one human being in order to stop the killing of others.  I understand it from a heart position that knows what it's like to be passionate about a moral issue.  The problem with this kind of passionate anger, is that it leads to hate, and then ultimately to murder. We're no longer making a statement about something being morally reprehensible, but are viewing those who are doing those things as deserving judgment. The Word of God tells us they are already judged.  The kind of anger that causes men to physically attack another is not a Christian trait. Violence directed toward those we disagree with, brings shame upon the name of Jesus.  God doesn't need us to be His arm of vengeance.  He will avenge, but when he does, it will be with the mercy born of an all knowing creator who loves all life.  When our dialogue is filled with anger, our blood vessels filled with rage, we break covenant with love.  The Covenant of Love is a lonely place.  I know, because I used to be a hateful, spiteful, vengeful man.  Then, through the mercies of God, I found the Presence of God.  Like the little sparrows who dance and flitter away outside my window, I know that my Creator ever lives to bring life to those desire to lay aside the angry robes of discontent.  It is in putting on the garments of praise, that we become true Covenant warriors, doing battle with the true enemy. . . . . .our own frailties, and lusts.  

This isn't an apology to the murderers, the mis-informers, and purveyors of death.  Judgement awaits, not by my hand or even by my desire.  I will pray for you, that you realize that little clump of cells growing within the mother's womb, is more than a mistake, or just an unwanted lump of flesh to be purged.  For those mothers who've had an abortion, you were deceived, but that doesn't make you evil.  You see, I am a participant in the Covenant of Love, and I know that it is only by the grace of God, that I've been able to find the love to set me free from my own passions.

A WEEK OF TECHNOLOGICAL TRIUMPHS

For those who won't read earlier blogs, the reason I call this blog the Sparrow's Perch, is because of Psalm 84:3 and Psalm 91. I can imagine the Psalmist going to the Tabernacle, and wishing he could flit in and out of the Holy Place like the sparrows. The tender reference to being under HIS wing, and the thought of God as a refuge, ring out from the Psalms. So, it is when I sit up here in my office. The sparrows, pigeons, and crows don't usually wake up until I'm almost ready to leave. It is mid-fall, and the sun doesn't break over the horizon until almost 7:30. During the height of the summer, the birds are carrying on by at least 5:30 in the morning. I miss their chatter, and bathing in the puddles on the flat roof just outside my window. I've often thought about putting a bird bath out there, but they have a lake, Ha :) just across the street. It wouldn't be for them as much as for me.

This week in Science has been an exciting time. The Mars Rover Curiosity found a cool unexpected rock, and Felix Baumgartner became the first man to freefall faster than the speed of sound. These feats are amazing! These technological feats make it is easy for us 'human beings' to think we have it all going on. We THINK, and that makes us special. Yet, in many ways, we have sold our birthright for a pot of boiled meat. We no longer depend upon the Lord for our daily bread. We have our brains, and our hands to feed ourselves. Who needs God? It is why we spend billions of dollars going to a planet we know is hostile to us, hoping for that one glimpse of a microbe that would prove God isn't the creator of the universe. It is why we spend billions of dollars looking out to the Stars hoping to find the one conclusive piece of evidence that will prove once and for all that WE are right, and God is wrong. Those who deny God will be able to point out how “knowledge” has shred the last vestige of religion, and dissuade even the most ardent believer. The purist scientist will finally be able to declare that we were an inevitable process of the universe, formed of a primordial stew that is possible anywhere within any trillion of star systems in the millions of galaxies that populate our universe. (LONG SENTENCE ON PURPOSE TO PROVE HOW KNOWLEDGE IS WONDERFUL)

Freed from the chains of religion, what is man capable of?

NOTHING MORE than he has done throughout the history of his miserable existence outside of God.

So, while an amazing piece of technology creeps along on a distant planet, and a man leaps from the edge of space, the sparrows come to my window sill and amuse me. They know their provider is good, and so do I. They know the one who brings rain and withholds it all at the same time. They aren't concerned with the scientific process, because knowing is only knowing. It doesn't change anything. As someone who has always had a love of science, science fiction, and astronomy, I am always brokenhearted at the 'reason' for discovery. What a shame. So, let me offer this to those who might be sitting on the fence of doubt and faith. Faith costs you nothing, doubt steals everything. In the end, when this tent is rolled up and placed into the soil from which it came, my spirit will explore those worlds that loom just beyond my touch. Eternity will not be spent in useless nothingness. For even as science is beginning to discover, this universe is made up of stuff we can't see or explain. We know it is there, we think we know how it should behave, but every day we realize we had it wrong. We spend so much time, and energy exploring the universe around us, but so little time growing the eternal love that is within us.  Is eternity one of those things we want to get wrong?

I guess it depends upon your perspective. A little sparrow has just cocked his head and danced away.  His perspective is the one I like.  

WEDNESDAYS IN THE SPARROW'S PERCH

Wednesday in the Sparrow’s Perch is a day unlike any other.  There is such an air of expectation of what will happen during the evening service.  Even if the day before didn't go as I planned, or tomorrow looks bleak and unrewarding, Wednesday night always holds the promise of fellowship with brothers and sisters in the Lord.  No matter how I might have failed to live up to my own expectations of how I should reflect Christ, the redeemer of my soul is there to embrace me.  I know He loves me, and ever intercedes for me.  Those things that fold me up in the middle and cause me to groan in waves of sorrow are soothed away by His healing hand. 

Shutting down the computer, and closing the door to my office on Wednesday mornings is one of the hardest things I do.  The gentle, and feathery touch of the Savior drawing me under his wing, is so soothing, it’s easy to fall asleep in Him.  Outside my window, the hustle and bustle of Babylon is beginning to push against the stillness I feel under the Savior’s wing.  Here in the warmth of the Savior’s love, I can watch the fever pitch drive for ‘more’ and be assured that where I am, is all the ‘more’ I need.  Still, I must leave the Holy of Holies, and fly out past the outer court into the fray of the battle.  I know what wrestles within me, is the desire to see the Kingdom of God come to this world.  The Epic Journey doesn't allow me to linger for long within the soft confines of the Savior’s embrace.  After I am soothed, warmed, and my wounds dressed, I will have to go back into the roar of Babylon.  He has made me to be more than a conqueror, and in the power of His might, I will overcome.  He has promised He would never forsake me, and I know He won’t, because I mean everything to Him. I think what causes me to breathe hard and feel the racing of my heart, is that I want Him to know He’s everything to me.

Wednesdays and Sundays are the days I celebrate knowing I’m not alone.  I draw strength from those who are just like me, who want to somehow convey to the Creator of heaven, and earth, that He’s everything to them. 

Well, it’s time to shut down the computer, turn off the lights, and go make some money.  I’ll return this evening with an expectation that His Spirit will be exponentially more powerful than I feel him this morning. 

Did I forget to tell you, that YOU mean everything to Him?    

The Good Things of God

Time to fly south. Brrrrrrrrrrr. A cold front blasted through yesterday, putting an official end to summer temperatures. Down at the courthouse square, (Yes, Harrison still has a courthouse square) they are hoping for a day free of rain, and slightly warmer temps. It is quite warm and comfortable here in the Sparrow's Perch. The cold hasn't had a chance to permeate the masonry walls, yet.

It is a beautiful morning outside, the sparse clouds are filtering the sunlight, and making a picture postcard splash of orange, pink, and white, against a vivid blue background. Yesterday's rain washed the air clean, leaving everything stark, and crisp. The air is so cool and crisp, I can hear the rumble of traffic on the highway a half mile away.

The sparrows, pigeons, and crows are silent though. I suspect they are waiting for the sun to warm things up before they pop out of whatever hole they've found for the night. I've come to enjoy their morning chatter, and the skittering noises they make as the scoot across the aluminum flashing outside my window. I hope they endure the winter.

I hope I endure the winter.

For those who might be stumbling on this, and those who aren't familiar with our fellowship, we've asked everyone to read two chapters every day. Not just any two chapters, but the same two chapters. Since we began this almost five years ago, we've been through the entire Bible three times, and the New Testament twice. We have seen a tremendous growth in revelation, and fellowship because of this practice. I say this because, I want you to understand the context of what I'm about to write. Today's reading was Ephesians chapters 1 and 2. Those who know me, know that Ephesians is my favorite book in the bible. Within it's six chapters, is the entire plan of salvation, as well as God's very heart. To me, it is the most inspirational letter Paul ever wrote. It is devoid of the correctional tone so prevalent in other letters, while at the same time being an exhilarating admonition to live the gospel. There isn't a word within it's pages, that doesn't thrill me to the core. Our men's group spent almost a year studying it. Imagine, a year on six little chapters. Then again, we spent an entire year on 2 Peter 1: 1-11.

In Ephesians 2:10, (and I quote from the NLT) For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. The good works we are to do, have been lost over the history of the Church. The body of Christ has split into three distinct camps, leaving the world to mock and ridicule the name of Jesus. For those who are 'grace only' people, 'works' is a dirty word without equal. Their mantra is that we are saved by grace, not by works. In throwing away the bath water, they throw away the baby. The other camp, believes the gospel is expressed solely by social works like feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and housing the homeless. They haven't met a social agenda they didn't like. Tolerance, and inclusion overrides any call for morality, or purity. They believe, if you practice being good enough, long enough, everyone will become good. If this were true, Christ didn't need to die for our sins, and it would make a mockery of Christianity. Actually, they would be better off just abiding by Isaiah 58, which is the true social mantra for ALL men and women. The last camp is the FAITH only crowd. If it isn't born of faith, speak faith, live faith, then it isn't Christian. They mock those who seek to meet the needs of the poor, and they turn a blind eye toward those who are suffering. BUT, there is a balance. There is an example, and it is in the very one from whom we derive our name.

Christ came to earth to demonstrate that a man could be holy, and live the divine nature. The divine nature within us makes us able to do those 'good things' he planned long ago. He has given us the power to execute his plan. It would be a cruel God who'd say: “do these things” and not give us the power to do them. Some things he asks for, come from us, while some things pass through us. We give of what we possess, and we share what is shared. Let me clarify with bullets.

Christ Demonstrated the following AFTER being filled with the Spirit at his Baptism.

1. The ability to overcome temptation (to live a pure life)
2. The ability to understand, apply, and teach scripture.
3. The ability to altar the physical universe, through faith.
4. The ability to heal (deliver the oppressed)
5. The ability to restore (life, hope, and soul)
6. The ability to redeem (free from demon possession, and deliver from sin)
7. The ability to speak to the firmament and make it obey
8. The ability to increase the harvest and produce fruit
9. The ability to curse and wither away the unproductive
10. LASTLY and most importantly, the power to forgive.

At the Last Supper, Christ made one important declaration that should have stayed with all of us who claim to be His. It is important that I go away, for if I do not go away, the comforter can not come. He was the seed of all righteousness (right acts). He had to die and be planted in the ground, so that a righteous harvest could come from him. We are the branches that must bear fruit. That means the work of our hands must resemble the same things he did. If not, we are not of him. If we aren't living a pure life, living in revelation, changing physical events, healing the sick, restoring the broken, dying, and hopeless, if we aren't casting out demons, reaching through the gates of hell and snatching people from its grasp, we are only being 'mere humans.' We might as well roll up our Liturgical garments, close our hymnals, shut down our rock and roll extravaganzas and head home. WE WERE MADE FOR MORE THAN THIS.

God's 'good things' are more than our good things could ever be. Wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. The body of Christ must be ready through every means to be Christ. IF that means opening your wallet and sending money to those in need, that is a good thing. If it is reaching out your hand in faith and offering wholeness to the lame, deaf, dumb, or blind, then you've done a good thing. If it is going to a far off country or tribe and bringing the gospel, that is a good thing. Whether it can be done by us or through us, it must be done.

The Presence of God changes all things.    

Call To Worship

Quiet.

If you listen, you can hear it. It's a crisp, cool, fall morning. The sun still hasn't risen, and the only sounds wafting up from the streets below are the occasional car making the turn at the light around the corner.

The sparrows are silent, the pigeons are absent, and except for the rhythm of the clock on the mantle, it is peaceful here in the sparrow's perch. Except for my spirit. I'm anxious for an experience with the Lord. I'm always excited to see what God will do everyday, but there is something about Wednesday and Sunday services that punch it up a notch or two. I think it's because of the corporate anointing. I can imagine our little sparrow as he sits in the framework of the Tabernacle and the call to worship is sounded during one of the many feasts the Lord commanded the Children of Israel to observe. The exhilaration of the 'shofar' being sounded, must have pierced the tiny sparrow's heart like a fowler's dart. The air would be alive with the thunderous roar as the men and women of Israel began the recited prayers, singing in unison, the wondrous story of Israel's redemption. “Oh give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good and His mercy endureth forever.”

Below the tiny Sparrow, the people carry their sacrifices into the courtyard of the Tabernacle, each signifying a desire to be forgiven, or simply to have fellowship with the Lord God. They bring their sacrifices, but leave them at the Altar. No one, but the priest, makes the journey from the altar to the inner court where the Presence of God resides. The tiny sparrow is overwhelmed with sorrow as he flits from the inner court, and outer court with ease. The once mighty kings of the earth, the ones who walked with God in the cool of the day, are now relegated to coming within feet of the Presence, and turning away.

Is it any different today?

The Presence of God is no longer contained within four walls. He has made his abode in the hearts of men, and still He is no closer than he was when he was when His glory filled the Tabernacle. The Psalmists lament can be heard today; “Who is this King of Glory?” We barely know Him. We can't seem to see Him through the mist and haze of religious order. The purchase of salvation through the atoning work of Jesus is pushed off into a nice little corner, and the exuberant joy of our redemption is buried beneath decorum.

How did we get from a garden to a closed in box?

What we fail to recognize, is that we have been purchased. We are not our own. It doesn't matter whether you believe in the Atoning work of Jesus or not, you were bought. In the end, when this world is rolled up like a scroll, it will be Jesus who decides what is to be done with you. He bought you, it is His right.

The sun is breaking on the horizon, and the sparrows are coming alive. Across the park, I can hear the unending call of crows as they scavenge the refuse of mankind. It won't be long till the men start arriving for our Men's study group. I have high hopes for the service today.

Quiet. Is that the call to worship? I am always hopeful that the call to worship will be exactly that. There is nothing quite like the power of the corporate anointing.    

THERE IS A WIND BLOWING

It's an unusual morning in the Sparrow's Perch, and my feelings are all over the place. Somewhere below me in the park around the lake, a dog is barking as if it is trying to get someone's attention. It hasn't stopped barking since I arrived nearly twenty minutes ago. It's unusual, because this is the first time I've heard a dog barking from my window above the park. I assume it belongs to someone who's gone running on this unusually warm fall morning. It feels as if there is a storm coming. The wind is gusting, and it brings back memories of my childhood in El Paso, Texas.

I like the wind.

Growing up on the northeast side of the Franklin Mountains, my life was measured in the cycles of the wind. From late February till the middle of April, you could count on the wind blowing a steady gale from sunrise to sunset. I grew up with the familiar sight of blown down billboards, store signs, and broken storefront glass. I've seen the wind walk mobile homes off their cinderblock piers, turn over tractor trailer rigs as if they were leaves, and blow this little boy home on his bicycle at speeds that would have caused his mother to have a heart attack. Tornadoes are frightening, hurricanes monstrous, but unrelenting straight line winds of 80 mph can hollow out your soul. The desert sand would blow into places you would never think sand could be found. I was convinced that much of the crime that was committed in that city, was done by people with sand in their underwear. Yet, despite all this, I always enjoy a good windstorm.

As I left the house this morning, I found myself grinning as the wind whipped through the Crepe Myrtle in our front yard. Not all wind is destructive. I also have good memories of the wind. For me, the wind is always symbolic of the presence of God. Many of the mightiest moves of God I've experienced were preceded by a wind out of nowhere. I could share them with you, but like all personal experiences, something always gets lost in the telling. Two instances in particular, were life changing for me, but I'm sure they meant nothing to anyone else. That is often the case with God's presence. What moves me to press in deeper, will cause someone else to stand back and shake their head in disbelief.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

The marvel of our technological age, is that we have the ability to record, report, and enjoy what God is doing. For all the bad rap it gets, Facebook is an amazing place to let people know what God is doing. Among my list of friends, are the pastors and members of other fellowships in Harrison. This affords me the opportunity to see what God is doing, while still being faithful to my fellowship. AND, God is doing some serious stuff.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

While I believe the word 'revival' is seriously over used, and misused, there is a move of God happening in this sleepy little hamlet. The faithful, and hungry are seeing great moves of God's Spirit throughout the entire spectrum of denominational, and non-denominational fellowships. I don't care how you define revival, it is here.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

The question I have is; will people enjoy this move of God, or will we let it blow by us?

What came to my heart as I was driving into town this morning was the story of Moses, and how he had a tent built called the 'Tent of the Meeting.' We are told that Moses' relationship with God was one of friendship, and profound intimacy. It is said that Moses talked with God face to face, as one speaks to a friend. What is amazing to me about this story, is that the Tent was made so that the Children of Israel could come before their God and MEET with him. The invitation was open, but they were satisfied to stand at the doors to their own tents while Moses and Joshua soaked in the glory of God. “You go talk with Him.” they said. We can only guess at their reason for not going forward. What we do know, is that long after Moses had returned to his own tent, Joshua had decided to stay in the Presence of God, often spending the night there. Is it any wonder, that when the time came for Moses to die, God chose Joshua. He chose him, not because of his great leadership skills, nor because he was a great communicator, or because of his knowledge of the Law of God. He chose Joshua, because Joshua knew God's voice. He'd met with Him in the tent of the meeting. Once more, the wind blew, and the Spirit of God did mighty things.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

So, to all my friends, and those who just happened onto this blog, I am touching my finger to my tongue and holding it up to the wind.

Yes, there is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

Soon you will hear of great, and mighty deeds done in the power of Jesus name. Soon, you will see the lame walk, the deaf hear, and the dead rise again. You see, I believe that the very same Spirit that empowered Jesus and His disciples, is doing the same here in Harrison. I am not satisfied to let these things be ancient fables. I am not satisfied to let someone else go into the tent, when I can have full access by the blood of Jesus. I am not satisfied to walk out of the 'Tent' the same person I came in as. I'm going to get on my spiritual bicycle and head for home. (Someday I'll tell the story.) I'm going to let the Wind of God blast me into the maelstrom of His love, until I'm going so fast I'll never stop.

There is a wind blowing in Harrison, Arkansas.

PS;  THE DOG IS STILL BARKING

What Is the Presence?

I knew it had to happen.  If you write and talk about something long enough, someone asks you that ‘zinger’ question to see if you really know about that which you speak of.  Such was the situation the other day when I was asked; “What’s this Presence thing you keep talking about?” 

I took a deep breath and stalled for a moment.  “Ummmmmmmmmmmm”   My brain seemed stuck  in first gear.

COME ON!      What’d they have to go and ask that for?   My first reaction is to say something really caustic, but I don’t.  Instead, I bite my tongue and answer with the cliché religious answer : “At the risk of sounding like I’m ready for a padded room, and a straight jacket, the Presence is God himself. “

My brain screams Aaaauuuuuugggggghhhhhh!   What a lame response.  I can do better than that.

Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, I have a better answer.  Asking someone what the Presence is, is like asking someone  to tell you what watermelon taste like.  You can no more describe the Presence than you can tell someone what the color RED feels like.  (We’ll come back to that thought in a moment.)   We’ll do an easy one, and think about something yellow. You know what a lemon smells like because you were told sometime early in your development that it was lemon you were smelling.  If you see and smell a lemon enough times, you can point one out  a mile away, just by the smell.  You don’t need to see it.  If you tasted it, you would immediately know it was a lemon.  If you saw a lemon, you would immediately begin to salivate in expectation of the bittersweet experience you’ve had in the past.  If you were asked to explain to someone how does yellow feel, you would probably go the path of a lemon.  Yet, if you asked someone to explain how does a lemon feel, they would probably go to the taste of one first.  We don’t have the ability to tell anyone what a color feels like, because color is based upon our vision.  Red doesn’t feel like anything, yet, we describe things as being red.  It all depends upon the senses being used, as to how you describe something.  If I say coffee, almost anyone can immediately identify it.  If I say cold, you know what I’m talking about.  If I say RED, you immediately have a visual image of red.   While our five senses can detect the Presence of God, I can only tell you what I feel in my spirit by using terms couched in our five senses.  If I tell you that the Presence of God feels like a warm blanket, you immediately have a sensory image to draw upon, even though the actual feeling was greater than what I told you.  It’s like telling you that the color RED feels warm.  Once I do that, you immediately associate red with warmth.  RED can be fast.  RED can be sweet, Red can be loud, Red can be firm, . . . RED can feel like anything. 

The Presence of God can feel like anything to anyone, but  when I walk into my office at 5:30 in the morning, I immediately sense the Presence of God.  Does God spend the night in my office?  NO! 

 Is God’s Presence greater in my office than in my office at home?  NO! 

So what is so special about the Sparrow’s Perch?   Why do I need to start my day in this place?

Because, it is the place I come to, to open my Spirit up to him.  This is the place that I go away to, in order to be alone with HIM.  Even though He is ever present, always with me, anywhere I am, it is my responsibility to find the time to acknowledge Him.  I’m the one who must find a place and time to be aware of HIM.  Otherwise, I go mindlessly through my ‘religious’ paces without acknowledging HIM.  The Sparrow’s Perch is an attitude, not a GPS location.  The older I become, the more I find myself living in His Presence in any situation.  Whether I’m working, driving, talking, singing, or doing any other of a host of life’s daily actions, I can feel His Presence.  However, it is here in the Sparrow’s Perch that I’m more aware of HIM.  He becomes more real to me as I sit in this chair sipping coffee, and listening to the Sparrows singing their praises to Him in the soft cool of the morning.  At this moment, the Presence is a soft, quiet, tranquility that pushes away everything else, and makes me feel at peace with the world around me. The Presence is peace, and joy in the midst of anything. Other times, His Presence makes me feel like a caged lion, and other times like a small child standing against a night sky wondering how many stars there are.  All I do know, is that I must have His Presence.

Oh, I forgot, I can’t describe the taste of watermelon, but I can tell you that God’s Presence always feels luscious, . . . at least to me. 

STOPPING TO BELIEVE

If you’ve been following this blog for any length of time, you know by now that the place I call my sanctuary of peace and intimacy with the Spirit of God, is my office at the Church where I serve as the Men’s pastor.   My office sits just atop a long flight of stairs, and to the right of the landing.  I like it up here, because the window in my office overlooks the bottled up waters of  Crooked Creek,  which the locals affectionately call Lake Harrison. 

My daily routine, is to come in sometime around 5 or 5:30 in the morning, turn on the computer, open the window, and make coffee.   Once the coffee is brewing, I will sit down and read our daily bible reading, and pray.  

This morning, something happened to cause me to stop and question what I believe.  Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t monumental, tragic, or even noteworthy except for the fact that it caused me to pause for a moment, and question what I believe. 

The morning started off like any other, I was awakened by the alarm on my cell phone, went in and turned on the water to brush my teeth. Later, after I finished dressing, and the coffee pot I’d programmed the night before had dutifully produced my anticipated 1^st cup of coffee, I sat down a while to watch my lovely bride of over thirty-six years nap before facing her upcoming day.  After she left for work, I went out to my truck, put the key in the ignition and turned the key.  The truck started, I put it in gear and drove to the church.  Without even thinking about it, I turned the key to the side door, and found myself walking down the familiar hallway and up the stairs in the half-light from the streetlight outside.  I flipped the switch inside my door, and the light came on as usual.  I turned on the computer, made another pot of coffee, and sat down to read our daily reading. 

Something had changed. 

The computer hadn’t come on. 

DARN! 

We do so many things based on faith. 

My belief system was shaken.  You turn a key, flip a switch, press a button, program a timer, turn a wheel, and something happens.  This is the way of our modern world.  Without question, signals pour out of little thin wires, and we can know what is happening across the world.  I don’t claim to know the intricacies of electricity, but I do know the switch isn’t where the power comes from.  At the same time, if it doesn’t work the first time I flip the switch, I will usually bump it up and down at least three or four times, until I become convinced that something other than the switch is broken.  You see, I base my daily routine upon a myriad of things that I can’t see, but ultimately affect my life.  I still stand in awe of the cell phone, the internet, broadcast TV, water lines, and other modern conveniences that await my beck and call.  They work without question, and often without my knowing their source.  I have a plastic card that allows me to draw unseen money from an electronic depository  that is supposed to be the money in my bank account.  I’ve never seen all of my money in the bank, but a piece of paper every month says I have it.  When people pay me for fixing things in their home, they pay me with a piece of paper that is supposed to be the same as cash.  All of this requires faith.  When it doesn’t work, there is usually a good reason.  That reason is usually outside of our control. 

It was at that moment when my computer didn’t come on, that I stopped to believe.  Since I was ten years old, I’ve known there is a God.  There is electricity, there is God.  There is water, there is God.  There is air, there is God.  As long as I can remember, I’ve known there is a God.  If I ever doubted for one moment, my mother would remind me, there is a God.  He became the fabric of my life, without my even knowing how he became the fabric of my life. Even when I’ve  done all the right spiritual things, made all the right spiritual moves, and not seen the spiritual results I wanted, I’ve always known there was a God.  It’s in my being. 

Then this morning happened.

I frantically jabbed at the button to the computer, looked up at the light (which was on, but for some reason I looked anyway,) and then looked down at the surge protector beside my desk. 

The switch was off. 

In closing my window yesterday, I’d accidentally turned it off

I reached down and jabbed at the green switch, and obediently the computer sprang to life.  I found myself laughing at the irritation I’d felt earlier.  My initial reaction was that I’d blown another computer due to a power surge or excessive heat.  As I heard the fan motors whir, and the lights flash green, I stopped to believe once more in the mystery that is electricity. 

I do so much out of simple routine, and am rarely concerned about whether it works or not.  I never question whether the power will be there.  I never doubt that water will spill from my tap, and I very rarely doubt the hundreds of other things I rely on every day.  I often do the same thing with my relationship to the creator of the universe.  Most of the time, He goes unheeded, moving quietly in the background of my life, with little thought or appreciation on my part until something doesn’t work in my life.  It’s when everything is good and right, that I tend to forget he is there. His Spirit flows unseen through the walls and floors of my life only to exit at whatever ornate faucet I choose to let him spring from.  Even then, the water tap is usually opened only when I need something for myself.  More often than not, his power in my life serves me only.  When I do move beyond my own comfort zone, and make an attempt at being selfless, his power seems to do far more for others than he does for me.  This alone causes me stand in awe of Him. 

Yet, most of the time I’m oblivious of Him until I ask him for something I want, and don’t get it right away. Even then, I’ve discovered  it’s because I’ve done something to turn off the surge protector in my Spiritual walk, that prevents me from getting what I ask for.  Today, I willfully made a commitment to believe in him as much or more than I do the electric company, the water department, or any of the other far less faithful services in my life. 

Today, I stopped to believe. 

Sparrows must believe.

IN MY LIFETIME, I THOUGHT I WOULD NEVER LIVE TO SEE THIS

There are times, that even the sparrow's perch can't calm the outrage, and utter disgust I feel when confronted with the depravity of men. The secular humanists proclaim a doctrine of man being capable of rising to the pinnacle of moral character without the 'crutch' of religion or the wheelchair of law. In my lifetime on this earth, I've seen the complete opposite come to pass. Since I was born on a February day in 1955, I've seen the heights, and the lows men can attain when left to their own devices. Abortion, open homosexuality, euthanasia, terrorism, and global mass murder on an epic scale are all indicators of what a people bereft of God will do. A godless people will not rise to new heights, but will eventually sink to complete abandonment of any social decency.

In my short time upon this earth, I've seen what lows we can sink to when we abandon the moral compass provided to us by our God. I began my education, when there was still prayer in public school, when the pledge of allegiance was repeated by everyone. Since the Supreme Court ruled against prayer in public schools, I've seen abortion legalized, and even hawked as a business. I've seen blatant hostility by our government toward all religions, and I've seen every form of perversion given legal sanctuary based upon freedom of speech. BUT, This week, I found myself completely stunned, and unable to keep silent. This blog will not be political, even though it could. I won't rant on about God's judgment even though I could. Today, I'm going to scream from the top of my blogging lungs. “What are we thinking?”

About three weeks ago, I read an article online about two doctors who were touting infanticide. The moral debate wasn't about killing newborn infants, but how long after birth, were they deemed viable. I have to admit, at the time I read it, I thought it was two doctors from Europe. It was something I expected from Europe. I knew our doctors in America would not even open the discussion, that is, until I found out one of the doctors was from America. Then, this week, I read another story about the same doctors, and the nice medical term they've coined to soften the blow: After-Birth Abortion.

Let's get one thing clear, and make it absolutely crystal; to abort something is to end it before completion. The problem with adopting the term 'abortion,' is we are never completed. This complex creation that is uniquely us, is ever growing, ever changing, and never finished. So, once we make 'abortion' the acceptable term we use for medically ending all life, we will be forever under the threat of being aborted. If you think I'm reaching, we've already begun the fall down the slippery slope of killing one another off. We are like rats who've over bred, and have begun to eat one another. The economics of population growth will be determined by doctors, and lawyers who will determine your viability. As long as you are healthy, productive, and filling a needed place in the social structure, you will be allowed to remain alive. However, let you come down with any disease, genetic disorder, or lose limbs, you would become a drain upon the resources of society. Because medical care is doled out by the government, you will be denied care or at best your care would be dispensed over a prolonged period of time. If you think I'm crazy, google the London doctors who basically denied medical care to those they'd deemed incurable or terminal.

I'm wondering where the outraged mothers are? Where's the moral outcry? Where's the doctors who still believe in the Hippocratic oath? Where are the politicians swearing it will never happen here? Please, somebody tell me what is going on here?

I'm not living in fear, nor am I espousing fear. It is time for Christians to get off their couches and do the one thing that will change everything; PRAY. I'm not talking about that three second token prayer that basically says, 'do something God.' I'm talking about laying aside some time and going before the maker of heaven and earth and ask HIM to put an end to this, because it's obvious the politicians won't. They will eventually be worn down by those who reason murder away. How do I know this? (CONSPIRACY THEORY ALERT!) The same thing happened when abortion was legalized as a means to control the African-American population in America. LOOK HOW WELL IT HAS WORKED! Unintended result, look at statistics and see how many white, middle class women have abortions. Aborting life for the sake of finances, ego, or social rejection, is the primary reason for an abortion. MONEY is always the bottom line.

So I guess my question is; how are we as Christians going to head this off? Are we going to wring our hands, and say how bad it is, or do we get down on our knees and bust heaven open about it? I hope we'll begin mass prayer meetings with the sole purpose of exposing this hellish idea of murder. I hope we'll stand against it with the same passion we defended the right of the owners of Chic-fil-a.

You see, being a sparrow in the temple of God, means that you see the continual parade of sacrifices brought to cover the endless barrage of sin. As a sparrow, you see the murderous heart of man in all of its various expressions. Globally, the murder of unborn people is higher than at any time in our history, but that isn't enough for those who seek to create a defect free society. Soon, those with dyslexia, genetic markers for heart disease, blue eyes, brown eyes, even those with the wrong color hair, will be aborted after birth. Heaven forbid you should be Jewish in the 1930's or 40's. History doesn't speak well for the decency of man, without God.

I pray this will be my last rant about this.    

New Things

It is one of those amazing moments here in the sparrow's perch, when the goodness of God washes over me in waves of joy, and love. His presence is sweet this morning, and the sweet oil of revelation is a delicate perfume that causes me to breathe deeper and deeper. Everything is slowing down and things I was unaware of before are being magnified to my senses.

I'm usually enthralled with the skitter and chatter of the sparrows outside my window, but today everything seems to be coming from inside the office. The hum of the computer fan, the tic-toc of my clock on the mantle, the occasional creak of the building as the wood joists and beams respond to the cool morning air I'm letting in. I only wish my right ear wasn't so damaged from years in the Air Force. A soft continual hum is testament to the arrogance of youth, and the foolishness of rebellion. Though I often wore ear protection, I as often did not. I am paying the price, now.

Even sparrows grow old and die, and I am growing old.

But, enough of that, let's get back to the revelation he gave me this morning. I love Wednesdays. I look forward to Wednesday night services like a child looks forward to getting candy. Wednesday nights are often a better service than Sunday mornings, mainly because I feel freer to skitter and chatter about within the presence of God. I don't know why that is, but at least that's the way it is here. One of the things I've asked the Lord to do in my life of late, is to help me to lay aside the things I think I know about him, and have him enthrall me with what I don't. What's laughable about that, is most people who know me, will tell you that I'm a pretty open guy about spiritual things. Yet, I keep discovering that I am not limited by what I know about him, but by what I don't know. And, at the same time, what I know about him forms the paradigm that keeps me from discovering more of him. Like the little sparrows outside my window, they fly to the same spot, go through the same holes, perch on the same wires, and violently protect their territory. I'm not different than they are. My reply to people when confronted with something new in the Lord, is; “That's not in the scriptures.”

Sad, little Pharisee that I am. Trust me, I'd not be any better than they.

Excuse me, Lord. I've never heard of any prophets spitting on the ground and making spit mud to rub in someone's eyes. And, what's with the wet willy thing while praying for someone's hearing to be restored? You show me in the law and the prophets where anyone ever blessed bread and fed five-thousand. And, turning water into wine? God just doesn't move that way. He wouldn't approve of sitting down with tax collectors, healing gentiles, or any of those things. It's not in the Word!

Even as free and open as I am, my expectations of what God will do are still couched within my experiences, and I'VE SEEN A LOT OF THINGS. I know all the right moves, all the right things to say, even know some crazy stuff my brothers and sisters in the Lord would cringe at. Still, my heart's cry this morning is that I will put away everything I think I know, and let God show me things I've never seen before. The problem is, I'm usually the crazy guy in our services. If I do something totally unexpected, people expect it. That's just David, you know how he is!

Hmmmm?

Anyway, I keep looking for that one person other than me who is willing to be shameless like king David. I want the opportunity to say; I will be even more undignified than this in God's presence. So, tonight I won't be looking for anyone else, I'll be looking for the Holy Spirit to show out. Not, for the show, but for the opportunity to show out with Him. I'm like that.

The Forever Journey

I don't know if I can be very 'spiritual' this morning.

Don't get me wrong, the fan is blowing, the sparrows are bouncing in the puddles of water from the rain shower we had this morning, and the soft rumble of traffic is beginning to get louder. The sun is barely peeking over the horizon and everything is washed in an orange glow. It's very peaceful at this moment.

Actually, I'm steeling myself to go out and face the day in light of what day it is.

Thirty-six years ago, I stood nervously before a young woman I barely knew, and put a ring on her finger. We were married on a Friday. It was more of a protest than anything else. I am not superstitious and wanted to make a point of it. Friday the 13^th will always be a day of joy for me.

No, I'm not some sappy, dopey, guy who's relegated his marriage to a sugary sweet syrup unfit for human consumption. Glenda and I don't fight. We disagree, but we don't fight. There are childhood reasons we don't fight, but I also realize that there are couples who must fight. For some couples the fight is the only way they reveal how they really feel about things. Personally, I don't want to know how my wife 'really' feels. I'm sure she would not like to know some of my twisted inner workings. You see, I'm not silly enough to think she doesn't already know who I am and what I think. The things she doesn't know, the things I've laid aside over the years, are only hurtful and selfish. It is pride and selfishness that somehow makes us want to make sure our partner knows they have failed us. You see, I discovered long ago, Jesus is the best person to tell my hurts to. If I tell my family, they may not forgive Glenda as quickly as I will. If I tell my best friend, they don't love Glenda like I do, and will begin to pat my po-po, and tell me I deserve better. If I tell the Lord, he simply reminds me that I'm not perfect either.

You see, God likes Dave and Glenda. He likes the unique person we are together. He loves us individually, but he likes who we are together. I'm sure that when he assigns angels to protect us, he always refers to us as Dave and Glenda. When he is proud of us, it is Dave and Glenda. When he is disappointed in us, it is Dave and Glenda. You may be asking how I know this? One little scripture, “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” God is a forever God. I'm not arrogant enough to split what God has joined.

Thirty-six years ago, we were thinner, sweeter, more open, laughed easier, played harder, worked longer, and couldn't let each other go. Today, we ache all over, move slower, snore louder, don't want to work any more, and have learned to let each other go. I still pat her rear as I pass her, stare into her eyes during meals, and love to hear her raucous laugh when her funny bone is tickled. This weekend, we spent our time with our daughter Amy, and her children at Silver Dollar City. There would have been a day when we would have secluded ourselves away in a hotel and . . . well you know. Not one to ride thrill rides, I volunteered to keep little Avery while Glenda took the older grandchildren with her . As I watched this marvelous woman in her native environment, I wondered if I'd taken the best years of her life from her. I'm an old fuddy duddy who prefers a good book, science fiction movies, or video games. She likes running from place to place, amusement parks, and funny movies. Her patience is endless, and her willingness to play is priceless. The grandchildren love her, and cling to her. It is as it should be. As I watch her, I'm taken back to when our own children were that age, and we went to Knott's Berry Farm. She wore them out. Still, to this day, my children and grandchildren know that she is always up to 'fun.' She is my opposite, but I like it. I have fun just watching her have fun.

Now, when I look at her, I see three children, five grandchildren, endless parades of friends, thousands of church services, hours spent together in vehicles traversing the country from one side to the other. We've been blessed to do things and live places other people only dream about. We've lived on the edge of our Christianity, and then been totally buried in it. We've seen death, life, joy, fear, and the inestimable injuries of words casually said.

When Glenda and I were first married, I always referred to us as 'we.' If someone asked me to do something, the answer would always come back couched in 'we.' Somewhere along the years, I let myself become selfish and wondered 'what about me?' Then God, reminded me, even though he still loves me, he loves us more. It was a hard lesson for me to learn. Learn it I have.

My most precious bride, I love you more than words could ever say. You are ever and always my heart, my soul, my flesh. I've finally got it in a way that only death can part. Yes, I'll make this forever journey with you, we will finish this journey together.     

THE AUDACITY OF ARROGANCE

It is a very pleasant morning here in the Sparrows perch. A cold front (the August type) moved through yesterday, and the breeze blowing through the window is almost chilly. You know, the kind of chilly where 68 degrees feels like you have to put a light jacket on. The long string of high 90's and 100's have sucked the life out of everything. Add to that, an entire summer with barely an inch or two of rain, and just walking outside becomes exercise. However, I am thankful for this time in the mornings once more. I am thankful for the cool of the day, when God's presence is so easy to feel, and my own heart is set so firmly on realizing him the rest of the day. I am blessed to hear the songs of the sparrows, starlings, and even the gentle coo of pigeons. I like to turn off the florescent lights in my office, because their hum drowns out the gentler sounds of the city as it begins to wake up.

I’ve been very reticent about writing this particular blog, even though I’ve been able to return to my normal daily routine of going to the church early in the morning for over a week. If you’ve read the previous two blogs, you understand how important that is to me. I believe that the lack of this special time for the last month was the reason I've failed to live under an open heaven through many of the conflicts that have come my way. If I were to share with you the things that have happened during this last month, you’d understand it’s importance even more. It’d be easy to pretend that everything was great during the last month, but that would be a lie. I could even write about everything else under the sun, but it wouldn’t mask the fact that this last month will undoubtedly go down in my mind as one of the worst months in my life.

For those people who don’t like to talk about spiritual conflict, or don’t believe in it, DON’T READ ANY FURTHER, you'll just get offended. I've done enough of that to last a lifetime!

Actually, I should be the happiest man on earth right now. Two weeks ago, my only son married a beautiful young woman whose inward beauty rivals that of her physical. For that I’m grateful to God. My greatest desire is that he be a better husband and father than I was.

Like all weddings, his came at a cost, a spiritual cost. Things happened, things were said, and the insults piled up. Before long, I didn’t even want to go to the wedding. Once I’d went, I was sorry I went. Not that the wedding wasn't beautiful, but everything leading up to it was. . . .Suffice it to say, I pray to God, this is the last wedding any of my children go through. No divorces or remarriages, please.

Over the last month, the enemy of my soul has pressed me in hard, and almost robbed me of the joy of doing anything. He has used family, friends, and even absolute strangers to challenge me on every front. The battleground hasn’t been an area of gross sin, blatant cruelty, or even my tendency to be short tempered. If it had been these areas, I would have easy paths of help already built in. My brothers in the Lord would be ready to buck me up and help me. My brothers in the Lord know what I look like when I'm battling these things. The battleground has been my confidence in who I am, and more specifically people calling my motivations into question. Wow, it's been nearly six years since I last fought this battle.

It would be an understatement to say I have wanted to crawl away under a rock somewhere and hide. Trust me, the fetal position sounded good to me a few times. I haven’t figured out, what makes people feel so easy to offer their opinions, when opinions weren’t asked for, but I must be wearing a sign that demands people do it. These unsolicited opinions have raged on and on for the last month, and they follow along these tracks. “I wouldn’t have done that.” “Shame on you.” “What’d you do that for?” “What were you thinking?” “If I’d have done that. . . . “ “What'd you say that for?”, “I'd have done it this way.”, “Are you sure?” and on and on and on. Every time I'd stand up and dust myself off, I'd be buffeted again. I suddenly, and without relief, felt like a bullied child again. A part of me wanted to lash out, and say mean things back. You know, the kind of adult remarks that are the equivalent of “your mother wears combat boots.” I’m mature enough to know it is the audacity of arrogance, that the arrogant do not realize they are being so. If you try and point out their arrogance, you are accused of being unchristian or too sensitive. In their eyes there is no excuse for your behavior and it is their God given right to express their opinion of you. If you can't take their abuse, there's something wrong with you. What's worse, is that I know from experience, not to try and defend myself. If you try to defend yourself, you only invite greater criticism. So, I kept my mouth shut. . . . most of the time. The one time I failed, whew, did it ever stink. Nothing worse than resurrecting that old dead stinking corpse. I don't care how much spiritual disinfectant I used, the old man stunk.

If all the abuse had come from one person, I would have been able to brush it aside easily, but it came from every angle, from people I least expected it to come from. No sooner would I get my attitude back in check, than someone else would step in and pierce me through. I felt like a customer service clerk at the abuse desk. "Here take a number, and I'll allow you to verbally abuse me in just a few minutes."  This week it finally came to a head, when a man I greatly admire, insinuated that I would lie to him. After I picked up my jaw from off the floor, I walked away stinging. I wanted to fire back with everything within me. Lord, it would have felt good to point out the numerous times he’s been double-minded, and even point out his lies. (For those of you who might be thinking that this is an underhand way to do that, he doesn’t read this blog and doesn’t know anyone that does.)

Trust me, the man took what remaining wind I had, out of my sails. I'm hanging limp in a dead calm sea of self indulgence, my old man stinking on the deck, (actually I tied him to the mast,) wondering what in the world happened? I found myself asking: What is going on? What is all of this about, Lord? I’m tired of this, I don’t want to do anything. Somebody find me a rock to crawl under, or just shoot me. Running away would feel so good.

BUT,

The Lord isn’t content to let me wallow in self pity for very long. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’d have liked for him to give me as much time as he gave Bro. Peter. I mean, four days to wallow in my own self-pity would have been great. Do you hear that God? What’s wrong with a good four-day whine? What's the deal, Lord? I’ve been kicked around for a solid month, and now you want me to simply suck it up and move on like nothing ever happened? All these people are saying bad things about me. Why don’t you step in and do some serious ‘vengeance is mine saith the Lord’ type stuff. Why don’t you do some serious head cracking, and getting even stuff for me? I thought you LOVED me! These people are calling my character into question. I don’t call their character into question. I do what you say! What about ME?!!!!!!!

OOPSsssssssssssss, Red Flag!

How’d I get here?

Like I said at the beginning of this blog, for the last month, I’ve been unable to go to the sparrows perch in the mornings. Sure, I’ve been praying, reading the bible, reading spiritual books, listening to christian music, working with christian brothers, doing all the things that work at a religious level, but my time in the presence of the Lord has suffered. The red flag the Lord gave me a few years ago, to alert me to when I was out of relationship with him, was when I find myself asking; “What about me?” That’s my cue, that I’ve moved away from being close with the creator of my soul. That one statement, is the place where arrogance, pride, and self-centeredness have all combined to make me focus on myself.

You see, spiritual warfare has all kinds of battlegrounds. Some of them, such as addictions, are easily seen, and it is obvious to everyone you are in a spiritual battle. Other battlegrounds, those that are way down deep in our minds, are not so easily seen. That is why I’m glad the Holy Spirit put the red flag up for me. I mean I could have gone on a lot longer feeling sorry for myself. I have, in the past.

On the other hand, I like living under an open heaven, and I thoroughly enjoy God's presence in my life. I can't stand the smell of that old stinking corpse that used to be me. I like the new creation in Christ Jesus, and just like the Apostle Paul, there is one thing I know, putting the past behind me, I press on to the high calling of Christ Jesus. So, for those of you who feel that I let you down this month, I did. For those of you who feel that I could have done a better job, I could have. For those of you who felt I was insensitive, I was. To the one who felt I’d lied, you misunderstood. Living in the perfect law of love, means that even when you are misunderstood, you are wrong when you demand people know they misunderstood. You see, the problem with arrogant people is, it is very difficult to tell them when they are arrogant. I know, I'm still cleaning up the deck from trying to push that old arrogant corpse overboard. This time I hung a millstone around his neck.

Thank you Holy Spirit.  

Ahhhhhh, The Perch Once More.

Finally, able to swing things around to where I could get back to my original schedule.  It rained sometime during the early morning hours (the rain, wind, and thunder boomers, stirred me.)  Usually, I will sleep right through a thunderstorm, but this time it woke me up, and I'm glad it did.  I quickly threw on my clothes, jumped in the truck and drove to the church.  The office was hot, but quickly cooled down once I opened the window.  I made some coffee, leaned back in my chair, and enjoyed the soft rhythms of the city coming to life as the sparrows danced outside my window.  I think they were as happy for the rain as I was.
Prayer time was simple this morning, "make me a blessing to someone today."  Of course I went through the usual list of missionaries, pastors, and family.  Especially family.

I thanked God for the sparrows singing outside the window.  Even now, as I'm typing this, a handful of them are splashing around in the puddles on the roof below.  I sometimes think I'd like to build a little meditation deck outside my window, with potted plants, a small park bench and a soft awning.  I could go out and sit on the park bench and look out over Lake Harrison. I can write anywhere, and it would be fun to sit outside and write.
 
Some of you who know me, are probably wondering why I wouldn't just step outside my front door. Answer:  There is a rhythm and peace here that is conducive to feeling the presence of God. I tried explaining a couple of blogs ago, but there isn't any way to make it make sense.

Enough of that, I came here this morning with a purpose.
 
It's been a long time since I've recommended a book to anyone.  I came under a great deal of criticism for the last book I recommended, which in turn has made me cautious about recommending books. Soooooo.... I'm going to go about it a different way, I'm going to recommend an author.  I have a handful of authors I like to read, John Bevere, David Platt, and now, I'm enjoying Bill Johnson from Bethel Church in Redding California.  What is even more enjoyable, is his daily posts on Facebook.  If you decide to read any of Bill's books, I highly suggest you start with "When Heaven Invades Earth." If you don't like to read books, but like doing Facebook posts, do a search for Bill Johnson (Author) and click LIKE.  His posts will start popping up.
Bill is a very down to earth, honest, and transparent writer.  He writes down his failings as well as his success.  He lets you know how he feels as much or more than what he knows.  There is an anointing in his books that opens your mind to the possibilities of God.  I began reading "The Supernatural Power of a Transformed Mind" way back in April while visiting my daughter in Miami.  I couldn't put it down.  I was halfway through it, when he mentioned his first book (When Heaven Invades Earth).  At that moment, I immediately stopped reading "Transformed" and started reading When Heaven Invades Earth.  Wow!  It changed up the way I thought about myself, and the world around me. I have a long way to go, and there are moments and times I feel completely out of touch with what God wants to do in me, but I know what I am in Christ Jesus, and what he wants from me.
There you have it.  My first recommendation in a long time.  This man is a must read.