The previous story about my son is fresh because of the turmoil in that small town church right now. They need God's direction and healing. Many of them are struggling with how to get along with selfish and controlling brothers and sisters. Some of them are just struggling with how to be more controlling and selfish.
The leaders of that church need encouragement and a fresh breath of God. They may need more than they will allow God to perform. The minister and his family need security. They need the medicine of the soul, because theirs have been wounded. These have walked alongside their Lord and born shame for his name.
The flock needs God's work as well. Some for forgiveness, some for remorse and change, some for both.
May God guide you all on your walk of faith. Only he can heal the divisions and bridge the chasm between. He is the God of redeemed relationships. He accomplishes the impossible, even within us.
My heart is with you all
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
I used to preach for a church in a small town in Texas. We moved there from Florida when my son was 11 years old and my daughters were 6 and 2. Now, I love Texas - I was born and raised here in the Lone Star State - but my son was completely comfortable in his setting back in Florida. He loved swimming, church youth group, our neighborhood and most elements of his life. On the other hand, he knew nothing about cows and ranching, football, or hunting - all of which pretty much defined life in his new "home" in small town Texas. He hated me for that move; for taking him out of his good life and landing him into another.
Every day when my son went to school, he was picked on. The kids from church picked on him just like the community kids. The kids in our neighborhood picked on him. Every day, there was no respite for this 11 year-old boy, because he didn't look and act like everyone else, or understand ranch work, or shoot animals.
When he came home from school each day I asked how things went. He would say everything was okay. He said this because he was mad at me and didn't want to forgive me for bringing him to that place. He wanted to be independent of me - be his own person - handle things on his own. But every day the pain of rejection by his classmates would burn and the weight of emotional independence is too great for those circumstances.
The school administration was aware that my son was being picked on, but did nothing to control it. No correction of the offenders; after all boys will be boys - whatever that might mean.
I won't go into detail about how things ended up other than to say that my son was involved in an ordeal that was blown out of proportion and he bore his punishment in a respectable manner. I am proud of him for the humility he learned and for the way he protected others who were involved in the circumstances. And his bravery in returning to that school setting later.
The school administration decided how to handle my son's circumstances based upon popular response to what had happened, rather than upon common sense. They protected their own tails rather than protecting the child. This was not commonly known, because we (the school administration, the local authorities, my son, and myself) decided not to punish others who, along with my son, were innocently involved in childish expression.
When the superintendant (a good friend) spoke with me about my son's punishment, I asked him what would happen to the other children. He said, he didn't know yet what to do. I told him to do nothing; they didn't deserve it. All the children, including my son, were innocent of wrongdoing and since everyone believed my son acted alone there was no reason to bring embarassment or injustice on others as well. But I also told him that in doing nothing to the others he was acknowledging that my son was being treated unfairly, since the administrations' actions could only be construed as self-protection rather than a just and equitable distribution of blame. He agreed.
Next to my son's wellbeing, my biggest concern through all this was my church. I did not want this to make the church look bad. I am sure that it must have tainted my ministry while I was there, but my church leaders were very supportive through it all. I offered to resign and leave at the time, but they decided to stand with me.
I am happy that my son is doing well in college. We tease him sometimes about what happened and he laughs about it. But it is still real to him, sometimes it makes him more aware of others perceptions, or - in less mature moments - makes him care less.
What is sad is that the children who precipitated the entire event and their parents appear to have learned nothing. They still slander my son. They may never know that he was not the person they think he was, and that he protected others by bearing the whole thing himself.
Every day when my son went to school, he was picked on. The kids from church picked on him just like the community kids. The kids in our neighborhood picked on him. Every day, there was no respite for this 11 year-old boy, because he didn't look and act like everyone else, or understand ranch work, or shoot animals.
When he came home from school each day I asked how things went. He would say everything was okay. He said this because he was mad at me and didn't want to forgive me for bringing him to that place. He wanted to be independent of me - be his own person - handle things on his own. But every day the pain of rejection by his classmates would burn and the weight of emotional independence is too great for those circumstances.
The school administration was aware that my son was being picked on, but did nothing to control it. No correction of the offenders; after all boys will be boys - whatever that might mean.
I won't go into detail about how things ended up other than to say that my son was involved in an ordeal that was blown out of proportion and he bore his punishment in a respectable manner. I am proud of him for the humility he learned and for the way he protected others who were involved in the circumstances. And his bravery in returning to that school setting later.
The school administration decided how to handle my son's circumstances based upon popular response to what had happened, rather than upon common sense. They protected their own tails rather than protecting the child. This was not commonly known, because we (the school administration, the local authorities, my son, and myself) decided not to punish others who, along with my son, were innocently involved in childish expression.
When the superintendant (a good friend) spoke with me about my son's punishment, I asked him what would happen to the other children. He said, he didn't know yet what to do. I told him to do nothing; they didn't deserve it. All the children, including my son, were innocent of wrongdoing and since everyone believed my son acted alone there was no reason to bring embarassment or injustice on others as well. But I also told him that in doing nothing to the others he was acknowledging that my son was being treated unfairly, since the administrations' actions could only be construed as self-protection rather than a just and equitable distribution of blame. He agreed.
Next to my son's wellbeing, my biggest concern through all this was my church. I did not want this to make the church look bad. I am sure that it must have tainted my ministry while I was there, but my church leaders were very supportive through it all. I offered to resign and leave at the time, but they decided to stand with me.
I am happy that my son is doing well in college. We tease him sometimes about what happened and he laughs about it. But it is still real to him, sometimes it makes him more aware of others perceptions, or - in less mature moments - makes him care less.
What is sad is that the children who precipitated the entire event and their parents appear to have learned nothing. They still slander my son. They may never know that he was not the person they think he was, and that he protected others by bearing the whole thing himself.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Wow - I can't believe I got back into my blog. I have been trying for days, but kept running through some loop.
The whole family's out of school for the summer! Except I may enroll in another class, but, maybe not. In about 3 weeks, I will open a fireworks stand. This will be our fifth year - every year is a challenge, especially when you live in West Texas, since weather is usually hot and dry.
My grandfather was the chief engineer on Benbrook Dam. He surveyed the project, planned eveything including the parks and roads, oversaw the construction and then stayed in a Corps of Engineers home built close to the facilities by the dam gates. We would visit often as children and it was always exciting. There was so much to explore and get into.
My older brother and younger sister and I would go to visit every fourth of July. Grandad would take us to the fireworks stand and we would shop prices till we came up with the best deal we could. The people working the stand must have been pretty patient to let us balance young bodies on our belly's on the counter of their display window for so long while we dreamed of colorful explosions in the sky above our heads.
Among all the other fireworks, we always bought firecrackers of course. We would put one under a can with the fuse sticking out and light it and run! Boom! We watched the can to see whose went higher. Sometimes we'd light them in our fingers and throw them as far as we could, but every now and then one of the fuses would be made of too-thin material and would burn too quickly for us to get it out of our hand. Bang! the loud explosion right next to my right ear would ring for hours, but I barely noticed since the pounding pain in my thumb and forefinger demanded all of my attention. My porr, abused, fingers would throb with every beat of my young little heart. They would have this numb feeling when you touched them so that it felt like someone else's thumb or finger, yet at the same time the pain was so intense, you knew it was indeed yours. Nothing could help.
You would think that once would be enought to teach me not to do that again, but I am not that smart: year after year I might relive the same searing pain two or three times; each time believing I had learned some key piece of information that would keep it from happening again; each time tempting fate with those last few defective firecrackers with the thin, short fuses - I think I can do this one....Bang!! Owww!
Back in those days all the cokes ("coke" is Texan for soda pop) came in glass bottles, which, by the way, is the absolute best way to drink a coke. Each state had laws requiring that a deposit of some amount be paid on each bottle when you bought your coke - that was to encourage people to return the bottle to the store and get their money back, and to discourage people from tossing those glass bottle out on the side of the road where they would break and create pain and suffering for small children riding their bikes or shuffling their bare feet. In spite of that state mandated deposit some people, who must have had a lot more money than us, would carelessly toss their bottles out anyway, leaving a treasure trove of glass money for my brother and me to pick up on July 5th after all the partying the night before. We were up with the sun. Grandad would take us to the best places which we picked clean of any valuable item lightweight enough and small enough to fit in the trunk of the car. We would carry load after load from the car into the store, then back to the lake for another load. After a few years, other people caught on and tried to take "our" bottles, which I felt thoroughly entitle to, since it was Grandad's lake after all. But we usually got there first anyway and Grandad seemed to know where the best loot was.
One year, I think 1972, Grandad had a heart attack. His doctor made him quit smoking and gave him a medical retirement. He was 62 in 1972, and he did quit smoking. He lived to be 91 years old I believe, and I preached his funeral. I miss him. After he retired the Army Corps of Engineers made him move out of the house up on the hill overlooking the lake. I miss that house too. They built a pavillion over the foundation for the old house; just poured the new one right over the old one. I can still go there and see the trees and flowers he planted, the grass he tended; and look down the hill at the water. It is nostalgic, but not pleasurable - it just makes me more aware of what is gone. And what all else is going.
I hope my children have memories like those. Not the same ones, but something just as meaningful; something that makes your eye sting when you think about it for a while.
The whole family's out of school for the summer! Except I may enroll in another class, but, maybe not. In about 3 weeks, I will open a fireworks stand. This will be our fifth year - every year is a challenge, especially when you live in West Texas, since weather is usually hot and dry.
My grandfather was the chief engineer on Benbrook Dam. He surveyed the project, planned eveything including the parks and roads, oversaw the construction and then stayed in a Corps of Engineers home built close to the facilities by the dam gates. We would visit often as children and it was always exciting. There was so much to explore and get into.
My older brother and younger sister and I would go to visit every fourth of July. Grandad would take us to the fireworks stand and we would shop prices till we came up with the best deal we could. The people working the stand must have been pretty patient to let us balance young bodies on our belly's on the counter of their display window for so long while we dreamed of colorful explosions in the sky above our heads.
Among all the other fireworks, we always bought firecrackers of course. We would put one under a can with the fuse sticking out and light it and run! Boom! We watched the can to see whose went higher. Sometimes we'd light them in our fingers and throw them as far as we could, but every now and then one of the fuses would be made of too-thin material and would burn too quickly for us to get it out of our hand. Bang! the loud explosion right next to my right ear would ring for hours, but I barely noticed since the pounding pain in my thumb and forefinger demanded all of my attention. My porr, abused, fingers would throb with every beat of my young little heart. They would have this numb feeling when you touched them so that it felt like someone else's thumb or finger, yet at the same time the pain was so intense, you knew it was indeed yours. Nothing could help.
You would think that once would be enought to teach me not to do that again, but I am not that smart: year after year I might relive the same searing pain two or three times; each time believing I had learned some key piece of information that would keep it from happening again; each time tempting fate with those last few defective firecrackers with the thin, short fuses - I think I can do this one....Bang!! Owww!
Back in those days all the cokes ("coke" is Texan for soda pop) came in glass bottles, which, by the way, is the absolute best way to drink a coke. Each state had laws requiring that a deposit of some amount be paid on each bottle when you bought your coke - that was to encourage people to return the bottle to the store and get their money back, and to discourage people from tossing those glass bottle out on the side of the road where they would break and create pain and suffering for small children riding their bikes or shuffling their bare feet. In spite of that state mandated deposit some people, who must have had a lot more money than us, would carelessly toss their bottles out anyway, leaving a treasure trove of glass money for my brother and me to pick up on July 5th after all the partying the night before. We were up with the sun. Grandad would take us to the best places which we picked clean of any valuable item lightweight enough and small enough to fit in the trunk of the car. We would carry load after load from the car into the store, then back to the lake for another load. After a few years, other people caught on and tried to take "our" bottles, which I felt thoroughly entitle to, since it was Grandad's lake after all. But we usually got there first anyway and Grandad seemed to know where the best loot was.
One year, I think 1972, Grandad had a heart attack. His doctor made him quit smoking and gave him a medical retirement. He was 62 in 1972, and he did quit smoking. He lived to be 91 years old I believe, and I preached his funeral. I miss him. After he retired the Army Corps of Engineers made him move out of the house up on the hill overlooking the lake. I miss that house too. They built a pavillion over the foundation for the old house; just poured the new one right over the old one. I can still go there and see the trees and flowers he planted, the grass he tended; and look down the hill at the water. It is nostalgic, but not pleasurable - it just makes me more aware of what is gone. And what all else is going.
I hope my children have memories like those. Not the same ones, but something just as meaningful; something that makes your eye sting when you think about it for a while.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Wow! A lot has happened since my last post. My wife graduated from Abilene Christian University and is about to finish her first year of teaching. My son graduated from high school and has just complete his first year at ACU. My daughter just received the MVP award for her Cross Country efforts this year and my youngest daughter also received three awards today, one for Academic Acheivement, one for Music, and one for Art.
It was tough for my sweet wife, having lost her mother last November and dealing with her school-childrens' parents, but she has had a strong finish. She has blessed all her students - they did exceptionally well on their measurements testing.
Perhaps I will do a better job posting regularly.
It was tough for my sweet wife, having lost her mother last November and dealing with her school-childrens' parents, but she has had a strong finish. She has blessed all her students - they did exceptionally well on their measurements testing.
Perhaps I will do a better job posting regularly.
Friday, March 03, 2006
You should have seen my girl run Thursday in the mile-and-a-half. Like a gazelle she tore up the track and took first place. Ah, she was smooth and fast. Wow!
I spoke with a friend today who recently asked a group of college students in Nebraska if any of them had ever sheared a sheep...not one had. He asked if any had ever held a sheep, touched a sheep - none had. So how are they supposed to have a realistic understanding of the biblical metaphore for sheep and shepherds? He advocated the term "coach" for shepherd. Now there's a word my daughter can understand. And one I better understand too.
My daughter looks to me for support and encouragement. When I give her instruction, I must be careful of her perception. I never want to dash her. I always want her to know that I believe in her. I want to be her good coach.
You may have to wait a long time, but there's more. Don
I spoke with a friend today who recently asked a group of college students in Nebraska if any of them had ever sheared a sheep...not one had. He asked if any had ever held a sheep, touched a sheep - none had. So how are they supposed to have a realistic understanding of the biblical metaphore for sheep and shepherds? He advocated the term "coach" for shepherd. Now there's a word my daughter can understand. And one I better understand too.
My daughter looks to me for support and encouragement. When I give her instruction, I must be careful of her perception. I never want to dash her. I always want her to know that I believe in her. I want to be her good coach.
You may have to wait a long time, but there's more. Don
Friday, December 16, 2005
I love this time of year, but I am a little conflicted by the trappings that seem so tightly woven into our celebration. I saw a picture in the news of a lawn decoration - a blood-spattered Santa holding a dismembered doll head. The family said they were merely lamenting the consumerization of Christmas. We have created a day of desires, fulfilled for some and wanting for others. For me, I feel pressure, from inside myself, to be more generous than I should or am responsibly able.
But before the creation of the universe God planned His perfect gift. He planned a blood sacrifice that could pay our sin debt. He spent several millenia introducing Himself to us in a way that would explain the gift He had planned. He purchased His people from Egypt, from Babylonia, from Assyria. He sent messengers to call His people back to Him and to prophecy the Redeeming Messiah.
One day He gave us a baby; His own Son who spoke creation into existence had become flesh - just like you and me. Not simply so that He could understand the human existence, rather so that we who live the human story could see His spiritual existence we have always been intended for and follow Him.
Christmas is a celebration of God's precious gift to humankind - His only Son, Jesus, our only Savior and Redeemer. He laid down His life for you and for me that we may also be God's children, born by His Spirit into His inheritance.
God's generous love is beyond compare. Let us celebrate His wondrous gift and praise the Son for all we have received from Him!
Let us meagerly emulate God's character by giving of ourselves to others. Let us not over-extend our wallets, but let us extend our hearts and our hands. Let us give what is most important of ourselves as a reflection of Jesus' gift.
Why should I worry about some shed that my neighbor needs? I can be happy he has what he needs. I can be happy I have what I need. I can give to others whatever I am able so they can have what they need.
I have to admit, that does goes against my nature often. It takes attention, since I am so selfish. My first instinct is most often self absorbed. And attention is no promise of success, since I often persist in self centeredness.
God help me to learn from you. To be more like you. To be more consistent in my attempts. Thank you that your gift is always consistent, though I am not.
Wait...there's more
But before the creation of the universe God planned His perfect gift. He planned a blood sacrifice that could pay our sin debt. He spent several millenia introducing Himself to us in a way that would explain the gift He had planned. He purchased His people from Egypt, from Babylonia, from Assyria. He sent messengers to call His people back to Him and to prophecy the Redeeming Messiah.
One day He gave us a baby; His own Son who spoke creation into existence had become flesh - just like you and me. Not simply so that He could understand the human existence, rather so that we who live the human story could see His spiritual existence we have always been intended for and follow Him.
Christmas is a celebration of God's precious gift to humankind - His only Son, Jesus, our only Savior and Redeemer. He laid down His life for you and for me that we may also be God's children, born by His Spirit into His inheritance.
God's generous love is beyond compare. Let us celebrate His wondrous gift and praise the Son for all we have received from Him!
Let us meagerly emulate God's character by giving of ourselves to others. Let us not over-extend our wallets, but let us extend our hearts and our hands. Let us give what is most important of ourselves as a reflection of Jesus' gift.
Why should I worry about some shed that my neighbor needs? I can be happy he has what he needs. I can be happy I have what I need. I can give to others whatever I am able so they can have what they need.
I have to admit, that does goes against my nature often. It takes attention, since I am so selfish. My first instinct is most often self absorbed. And attention is no promise of success, since I often persist in self centeredness.
God help me to learn from you. To be more like you. To be more consistent in my attempts. Thank you that your gift is always consistent, though I am not.
Wait...there's more
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
There is nothing we have that we have not received. Every good and perfect gift comes from above flowing down from the Father of lights. I live in a house I did not build - I only share ownership (with the bank). When I turn on the water I rarely think about those men and women who built the infrastructure we enjoy. Drive over a bridge - where did it come from? And how many do I pass over every day? Who designed the technology that your computer is built upon? Man, I couldn't begin to pay for all the ideas that affect my life every day. And that doesn't even start to mention the natural and spiritual world surrounding us that we either mostly take for granted or simply don't notice at all.
I would like to be more aware of - and grateful for - all that I have received.
I have new neighbors. I am grateful for them - I anticipate a good relationship. The previous owner had given me the storage shed in the back yard, however it was not possible to get it before the new owner moved in. When I brought it up as they began to move their possessions in, he replied, "Yeah, she said something about that before...I thought it came with the house."
Alright, apparently he knew from the previous owner that it didn't belong to him, but he had seen it back there and thought how he could use it...and he wanted it.
What should I do? This is my new neighbor, I want things to go well.
Wait...there's more,
Don
I would like to be more aware of - and grateful for - all that I have received.
I have new neighbors. I am grateful for them - I anticipate a good relationship. The previous owner had given me the storage shed in the back yard, however it was not possible to get it before the new owner moved in. When I brought it up as they began to move their possessions in, he replied, "Yeah, she said something about that before...I thought it came with the house."
Alright, apparently he knew from the previous owner that it didn't belong to him, but he had seen it back there and thought how he could use it...and he wanted it.
What should I do? This is my new neighbor, I want things to go well.
Wait...there's more,
Don
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
My dad used to tell me the road to Hell is paved with good intentions when I said things like, "Well, I meant to..."
I intend to post at least 4 days a week, but I see I am missing a few LOL. I hope I am not paving a road. I seem to not be able to think of things to write that are worth placing here.
I am excited about some friends' involvement in the Organic Church Movement (?). They want to plant house churches all over the place. A group of people are meeting weekly to encourage one another in this ministry. And, I think they have already started a new house church in the home of a new Christian. I am praying for their success.
One thing that was said at their meeting which I truly appreciated was the idea that when Jesus said, "The fields are ripe for harvest. Ask the Lord of the harvest to send workers into the harvest field." He wasn't telling us we need to ask God to provide more people to reach out to. And, by the way, I often do ask God to lead me to someone - to open my eyes to see the opportunities to help others to know Jesus' salvation. But Jesus was telling us to pray that God would provide workers for the harvest.
Let us pray that God will equip and gift people for that. And as we pray, let us anticipate that God is already working in our life to gift us and equip us for that very ministry. Let us have the faith that believes that God can accomplish in us, through us, whatever He places before us.
Father, may my intentions lead me into Your ways. May I trust your power to work whatever you desire in my life. May I be willing to answer your call.
Wait...there is more
I intend to post at least 4 days a week, but I see I am missing a few LOL. I hope I am not paving a road. I seem to not be able to think of things to write that are worth placing here.
I am excited about some friends' involvement in the Organic Church Movement (?). They want to plant house churches all over the place. A group of people are meeting weekly to encourage one another in this ministry. And, I think they have already started a new house church in the home of a new Christian. I am praying for their success.
One thing that was said at their meeting which I truly appreciated was the idea that when Jesus said, "The fields are ripe for harvest. Ask the Lord of the harvest to send workers into the harvest field." He wasn't telling us we need to ask God to provide more people to reach out to. And, by the way, I often do ask God to lead me to someone - to open my eyes to see the opportunities to help others to know Jesus' salvation. But Jesus was telling us to pray that God would provide workers for the harvest.
Let us pray that God will equip and gift people for that. And as we pray, let us anticipate that God is already working in our life to gift us and equip us for that very ministry. Let us have the faith that believes that God can accomplish in us, through us, whatever He places before us.
Father, may my intentions lead me into Your ways. May I trust your power to work whatever you desire in my life. May I be willing to answer your call.
Wait...there is more
Friday, November 18, 2005
How do you start a blog? Today I will begin to write some thought each day. I hope they are worthwhile for myself and anyone else who may find them.
May God bless our lives today with more of Him. May he break into our lives in unexpected ways that reveal fresh as well as familiar truths about him. May this small piece of web-estate please him.
Wait, there's more...
Don
May God bless our lives today with more of Him. May he break into our lives in unexpected ways that reveal fresh as well as familiar truths about him. May this small piece of web-estate please him.
Wait, there's more...
Don
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