No More CheeZeee Gifts, Just Your Heart

Good morning from the sparrow's perch.  I came in a little extra early so I could sit in my church office and enjoy the song of the sparrows and the cool morning breeze. 

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

I've been blessed to be a father.  Although I can truly understand why fathers would hate going to church on Father's day.  First of all, if you received the typical gifts of a BRIGHT, COLORFUL, and GARISHLY INDECENT tie, or whatever typical father's day piece of clothing innocent children are coerced by wickedly insensitive wives to buy for you,  you will be forced to wear it to church. Have you ever noticed how the women gather together on Father's day in little clumps of eight and snicker.  YES, they are admiring one another's ability to humiliate the man of their home through the loving hands of their children.  If you somehow escape the humiliation of having to wear a tie with cute little animals or cartoon characters, you will be forced to endure the Father's day sermon.  

NO WONDER MEN HATE TO GO TO CHURCH! 

We get lambasted at Christmas for not being able to secure a room for the night.  At Easter, we're chastised for crucifying Christ, on mother's day we're the heels in a loaf of bread, and on Father's Day we're sorely lacking as role models, and spiritual leaders. It'd be easier and less humiliating to stand out in the hot June sunshine and do primal cooking upon the outdoor cooking device.  This, a man knows how to do!  

With all that said, I am grateful that I attend a church fellowship where the men are appreciated, the sermons are never holiday oriented, and the men are good fathers. I'm also grateful that my children have finally learned the one basic truth I've been trying to teach them all their lives; Don't buy me cheezy gifts, just give me your heart. You see, as a father, I love my children whether they buy me gifts or not.  My daughters and my son, will never figure out to ask me what book I'd like to read, or what movie I'd like to own.  This is because somehow we've tied in the giving of gifts to the notion that we're all mind readers and know what each other really want.  It's kind of like when I bought my wife a vacuum cleaner for our seventh Christmas.  I won't repeat what was said.  After numerous ties, T-shirts declaring me to be the world's best dad, I took a cue from my wife and told my children just to give me a call.  Let me know you are thinking of me.  

Our heavenly Father knows that feeling.  He reminded me of it this morning as I prepared to leave for the church.  I was ruminating over the events of the past week and thanking him for bringing me through it all intact. I looked down at the seat of my truck and remembered that I'd forgotten to pull out my dad's card.  'Darn!  I forgot to give it to him!'  Suddenly, the Holy Spirit reminded me of the offerings that were supposed to be brought before Lord, by the Jewish people.  The scripture where He declares his distaste for the fat of bulls and rams sprang to my mind.  

WHY DID HE DESPISE THEM WHEN HE ORDAINED THEM?  

They weren't the gifts of appreciation!  They were the offerings for sin.  The Lord's favorite holidays were celebrations of relationship.  Passover celebrates the birth of a people out of a life of slavery, Pentecost celebrates the expectation of life, and faith.  The feast of Tabernacles is the celebration of provision in the desert and relationship through that provision.  For God, the garish, indecent, and continual sacrifice of animals for the wickedness of man was the farthest thing from what he truly wanted.  What he wanted, was what He had in the beginning; relationship.  

Thankfully, through the gift of Christ Jesus, we have the most awesome Father's Day gift of all, and it is the Father who provided it. After he paid the price, he told us; No more Cheezy gifts, just your heart.  That is all any father really wants.  That is ALL He wants.      

HERE COMES DAVE AGAIN

I'm not sitting in the sparrow's perch today, in more ways than one. I've taken on a job for a brother in the church, and the job location is in the opposite direction of the church. I'm sure very few people would understand, but I miss my time of prayer, bible study, and writing from the sanctified confines of my church office. I especially miss the sparrows tittering outside my window.

Spiritually, I found myself about a hundred miles away from the presence of God today, with no one to blame but myself. I let something someone told me this morning get in my craw, and couldn't let it go. I was like the old turtle who'd fallen off the stump only to land on his back. He saw a little boy walking toward the pond and started kicking and flailing in hopes the boy would pick him up and put him upright. Instead the boy grabbed the startled turtle by one leg, took it home, killed it and threw it in a pot. Moral: If you kick up a fuss, you'll end up in a stew.

It's not the first time I've felt like that old turtle, and you'd think I'd know better than to kick up a fuss. To make matters worse, a rainstorm blew in about noon time, putting an end to my very productive day. Now, everything I'd planned on doing is delayed a day. On the other hand, we need the rain, so I felt guilty for grousing about the rain. As you can imagine, by the time I got home I was about a million miles away from the presence of God. So, I did what every man does in moments like this, I tore something apart. I've been working very slowly on our front bathroom in order to have it ready for my oldest daughter to come visit in July.

Today I ripped it up!

PROBLEM: I don't have the funds to put it back together as quickly as I tore it apart. So,not only was I in a stew about something someone said, but I now have a bathroom with a great big hole in the floor and no money to fix it. Worst of all, I have no one to blame but myself. Even more disgusting than that, I feel terrible inside, and simply want to sit quietly before the Lord and cry. Yes, I said cry. I know, 57 year old men shouldn't cry, but that's what I feel like.

If I lived in the days of the Old Testament, I would have to throw a lamb over my shoulder and head toward the tabernacle.

I can here it now,

“There goes Dave again.”

“Poor Guy, he's so messed up, he keeps the priests well fed single handedly.”

“That's about the fourth trip to the tabernacle this week.”

“At this rate, he ain't gonna have a flock left.”

“You'd think he'd just stop sinning.”

Yep, I feel pretty rotten. I know the grace of God will heal me through the night, and tomorrow will be another wonderful day. Still, I can't help but feel bad about this wasted day. Just when I think I'm over something in my life, it will sneak up and slap me in the face.

I'm just glad I don't have to carry a stinking lamb over my shoulders to the tabernacle.

Forgive me Lord Jesus, give me the grace to overcome, your love to love, and your joy to walk in.       

A CHURCH WITH IRON

It is raining! What a joy to hear the distant crack of thunder to the south and the occasional burst of light from lightning high in the cloud tops. It's been a terrible drought this past month and a half, and even as meager and light as this rain is, it is welcome. As I sit at my desk in the sparrow's perch, I am enjoying the gentle breeze and uneven rhythm of the rain drops as they land on the aluminum splash-guard below my window sill.

I'm feeling satisfied this morning after a time of prayer and communion with the Lord. He's already shown me some things this morning that I need to work on and has set within my heart some of what I'm going to write in the blog. I have to admit, this is my favorite blog to write. I have two others, but they don't reflect who I am as much as what I do. This blog is more intimate and personal. I draw from my life experiences, my children, my grandchildren, and my wife for the practical application and inspiration. Such was the case yesterday as I sat down to dinner with my youngest daughter to an after church dinner.

Normally, this would be a trying affair, but yesterday my wife and I went to separate locations. She took the oldest two grandchildren to McDonalds to enjoy the playground, while I took my daughter and her five month old to a local Mexican food restaurant. For the first time in a very long time, we had an adult conversation without it being punctuated by demands for her attention. Through the mercies of God, little Avery was content to play with her feet and bat at the toys hanging from the handle of her carrier.

You see, I actually do enjoy talking with my daughters, while I am sure they grimace and endure me. Both of my daughters are going through that time in their lives when the demands of children, husbands, and the uncertainty of the future weigh heavily upon them. My oldest daughter puts on a brave face, and her infectious smile, and you'd never know she was going through anything. My youngest has always been open and up-front about how she feels. She's always been this way from the day she came out of the chute. I'm sure the last thing she wanted on a Sunday afternoon, was for her father to sit across the table from her, and inject his ancient opinion into her modern life. So you can imagine my surprise when she blurted out, that she and her husband needed to find a 'good' church.

I wasn't surprised by the need for a good church. Parents know these things before their children do. It isn't that we're smarter, because the Lord knows I'm no where near as smart as my children. As parents, knowing these things is a matter of perspective. My vantage point is nearly twenty five years beyond hers. Time writes wisdom on any heart willing to receive the words.

Within the same sentence, she qualified her statement with something so powerful, I had to write about it this morning. She simply said that they needed to find a church with some iron in it.

I knew exactly what she meant, and in an instant, I was confronted with the consequences of past decisions. So, I hope everyone will forgive this moment of personalization as I explain to my daughter why she struggles so much to find a church home.

It's not your fault that it has taken you this long to realize the value of iron. Between the demands of the Air Force, the refining of my spiritual and doctrinal stances, and the pressures of satisfying a wife and children, you rarely stayed in a church home for more than three years. The nomadic lifestyle of the Air Force, coupled with my own insecurity in spiritual matters, didn't allow you to forge long term spiritual relationships. I was easily offended, overly demanding, and completely self-absorbed. I allowed things into my home that diminished our purity and holiness, and as you are well aware, I knew I was right, but rarely acted right. I pushed you to believe your gifting was special, and placed you on a pedestal. I've left more than one church, because they failed to recognize your talent. If things got too hard, or the Pastor demanded more than I was willing to give, I'd pack us up and move to another church.

Then you grew up. You were no longer in my life at the moment I needed you to be. I needed you to see the power of joining with a body of believers who hold you to a higher standard. I needed you to enjoy the joy of learning with others equally as hungry as yourself. You see, the interesting thing about iron sharpening iron, is that one submits and yields to the other, alternately gaining strength. It is the forge of the master blacksmith that heats us up and folds us into one another. The hammer of the Holy Spirit drives us together while at the same time leaving our individual contributions evident for others to see. Like the fold lines in a good piece of steel, you can see the forging process, but the work is one solid piece of steel. We have to be forged together to become strong. It takes a long time to forge the finest Damascus or Japanese blades. The firing and forging aren't easy. Submission to one another is essential, purity is crucial, and temper is everything. You didn't see these things when you were growing up. I know you look at me through the rainbow glasses of being my daughter, but I should have prepared you better, been more secure, and trusted God more.

You see, one thing I've learned over the years is that God loves you more than I do. He is infinitely concerned with your salvation. I can grow weary, become angry, live in frustration, but He doesn't. I can be mad at you, punish you, and push you away, but he doesn't. He is always right where we left him. You see, the things you are going through, can be blamed on me. I should have been more stable, more submissive, more pure in my devotion to others. So, when I hear you say; I need a church with more iron in it, I am grateful that you've found this out almost fifteen years before I realized it. It won't be easy, submitting never is. Finding a church home with iron in it won't be easy either. I was blessed to become part of this body we are in now. You will need to find a church that teaches straight up word and not watered down feel good stuff. If you're not challenged to grow, pray, be a participant, or know the Word, then it doesn't matter how much your children like it, how much they let you sing, how much they picnic together, it doesn't have iron in it. Duct tape churches are fine until the heat rises or the cold sets in. Churches built upon the personality of the pastor, the quality of the praise team, or even the amount of 'play' time they offer, isn't what church is for.

I have asked God to make you a Spiritual metal detector. Listen for the evidence.