On The Green In Two Strokes

FIRST STROKE (Part 1)

My pickup truck rolls to a stop in its usual resting place in our driveway. The motor is turned off and the cab is nearly silent - just the metallic jingle of my keys as they're extricated from the steering column and that distinct tink...tink...tink noise a hot engine makes as it cools down - ahh, and a long sigh from the exasperated driver. There are some days my friends; some long, difficult days when I've just about had all I can take of what the world portions out.

So I just linger there a in my seat afew moments; thinking back on the previous dozen hours. The day had begun poorly - not a good start at all. Every one of our kids were in a quarrelsome mood. It seemed as though they couldn't even tolerate their own shadows! I recall the door closing behind me as I left the house that morning, muting the sounds of several petty arguments. My poor wife was still trapped in there to fend for herself; refereeing such minutia as who gets what cereal box and "he's lookin' at me, make him stop! Waaaaa!" From there, I was more than willing to move on to my own battles. Yet as the day wore on, home didn't seem such a bad place to be after all: A number of contentious phone conversations, fruitless attempts to accommodate a few unreasonable folks, the disappointments and frustrations that arise when other people fail to meet my expectations, an endless stream of depressing stories from the news outlets I read and listen to, and to top it all off - the combative and inconsiderate drivers I shared the road with while making my way home. As I sit there; wondering what awaits me when I walk back through our front door, I give a somewhat spiteful chuckle, recalling a song from my favorite version of Dickens' A Christmas Carol:

(Click on the title below to watch a clip from
the film. If you share my somewhat twisted
sense of humor, you'll laugh as
Albert Finney sings in that scene)

I HATE PEOPLELeslie BricusseSung by Albert Finney in the film "Scrooge", 1970.

Scavengers and sycophants and flatterers and fools,
Pharisees and parasites and hypocrites and ghouls,
Calculating swindlers, prevaricating frauds,
Perpetrating evil as they roam the earth in hordes,
Feeding on their fellow men, reaping rich rewards,
Contaminating everything they see,
Corrupting honest men – like me.
Humbug! Poppycock! Balderdash! Bah!
I hate people. I hate people.
People are despicable creatures,
Loathsome inexplicable creatures,
Good-for-nothing kickable creatures.
I hate people. I abhor them...

I'm jolted back to reality as a couple of grubby little faces are pressed and contorted against the glass of the driver's side door. "Daddy...Daddy...Daddy - Daddy's home! More grubby faces appear as they make their way from the sand box, the woods, or other remote corners of the property - A slight smile threatens to crack my face. I part the crowd with my door as I exit the vehicle. "Here ya go Ben, carry your Daddy's briefcase into the house. Laura, you can take my lunch box" I say as I drag myself toward the front porch, the dinner table, and ultimately my favorite chair.
A change of clothes, perusal of the mail, a little light banter around the dinner table and eventually I collapse into my old trusty recliner. With remote in hand, I indulge myself with a little mind-rot as the TV awakens and begins to glow. Scrolling through the various offerings, something grabs my attention on the channel guide - Life After People. "Hmm", muttering to myself - Scrooge's song still echoing somewhere in one of the folds in my brain, "Now there's an interesting thought!"
The series is presented weekly by the History channel (now just what a show that prognosticates future scenarios has to do with history is beyond me - but I digress). It's an imaginative look at what would happen to all of man's buildings and technology in the decades that follow the sudden absence of the entire human population. It depicts the slow advance of forests and animal habitats; reclaiming the acreage once occupied by people, traffic, and buildings. As I sat fuming in my driveway earlier, the notion of wiping at least most of mankind off the face or the Earth wasn't all that far from my thoughts! And I must confess a certain measure of amusement upon seeing what I'd just witnessed on TV - a computer-generated rendering of the Eiffel Tower crumbling to the ground as its rusting remains slowly succumb to the elements! And yet, this show's premise bothers me. I believe it's evidence of the slow, steady creep of an insidious deception in our culture - especially pronounced has it been in recent years. Namely, that mankind's presence in the world is eclipsed by the greater value of his environment; that we're an affront to nature; an encroachment upon it. That the Earth and all it contains has intrinsic value and purpose apart from the presence of human beings. In short, we are nothing more than a product of the natural, undirected workings of the universe - highly organized concoctions brewed from the periodic table of the elements! More on that later. Meanwhile, indulge me if you will as I lay some anecdotal groundwork with a couple of stories - true stories I believe to be relevant to the topic of this piece.
A few years ago my brother loaded up his van, secured the trusty ol' Coleman pop-up to the trailer-hitch, and took his family on the road for a week of fun and adventure - camping in one of the state parks in near-by Ohio. He was carrying on the traditions that we had grown up with - enjoying the outdoors as a family. The scents and sounds of a camp-site are indelibly etched into my own memory as I'm sure they are his. The experience of immersing myself into vast forested acreage and tranquil waterways; exploring trails and paddling a canoe; settling-in for a serene evening around a crackling campfire - bothered only by the inevitable sibling skirmishes, a few biting insects and that confounded wisp of smoke that always seems to follow you no matter what side of the fire you're on!
Well folks, nowadays there are some new annoyances to contend with - as my brother and one of his boys so unpleasantly discovered. I believe it's embedded into the genetic make-up of a child - that irresistible urge to look for the perfect climbing tree and to accept the challenge to touch its upper boughs! It's a rite of passage of sorts for a kid - at least it was for me. My young nephew found such a tree in that Ohio camp-ground; wasting little time scampering up into its leafy realm. As he was enjoying the view from that lofty perch, a uniformed figure emerged from the shadows and took up a position below him. As my brother later related this story to me, I could just see that guy in my mind's eye - some Barney Fife type character standing with his hands on his hips citing a ridiculous park regulation which forbids tree-climbing. My nephew (the perp) was summoned from the branches, reprimanded, lectured about how climbing a tree puts un-do stress on it and warned not to climb any more of them!
No, I didn't make this story up - oh how I wish I had! How I wish I still lived in a culture where a youngster in a tree was a welcome sight rather than a misdemeanor. Anyone with an ounce of sense would know that that tree (or if you prefer, the victim) must withstand far greater stresses on its limbs each time a spring thunderstorm rolls through the area! Barney, the defender of trees; the voice of the helpless wooded beings of the forest - he and those who impose such foolishness upon people seem to lack any measurable amount of sense! Really now, what's to be gained from treating those who are simply engaged in a harmless, time-honored activity as if they were rogues and vandals - huh?

"All right young fella, climbin' trees
is against the law in this neck of the woods.
I'll let ya off with a warning this time
but you just mind yerself
'cause I'll be watchin' ya"

Here in Southeastern Michigan, we have a local park system known as the Huron Clinton Metropark Authority - boasting a number of venues offering plentiful hiking, boating, picnic grounds, etc. Over the years, one of my favorite haunts has been Kensington Metropark. I'm particularly fond of strolling along the many miles of hiking trails found there - it's a place where I can go to steal away for a little while when I need some quiet solitude. I remember a particular warm autumn day a number of years ago when the park authority unveiled their new policy regulating leaf collecting. Yes folks, that's right - leaf-collecting! Is there anything more destructive to the environment than the occasional third-grader collecting a handful of red maple leaves to take home & press in a book? For goodness sake - this raping of the land must be stopped at all cost before it's too late!

Really now - are these folks serious? If they've got that much time on their hands - so much that they need to dream up nonsense like this, then perhaps they might take a few moments to do a little math like I just did:
Kensington Metropark has over 3,000 acres of mature forest encompassing Kent Lake - a 1,200 acre back-water created back in the 1940's by damming the Huron river. Oh, and ironically enough, felling the trees that once stood in that valley - the stumps of which are still visible beneath the surface of the water! Anyhow, according to my research, one acre of mature forest has an average of 250 trees. That would equal approximately 750,000 trees in Kensington. I've learned that the average mature tree has some 250,000 leaves on it. Therefore, Kensington's trees produce an estimated 187,500,000,000 leaves annually - imagine having to bag all those & take 'em to the curb! Are you still with me? Okay then, according to statistics I got from the park's own website, approximately 450,000 people visit it's grounds during the fall color season. Now, what would you assume to be the percentage of those visitors who'd be even remotely interested in taking a few leafy mementos home with them - 1%? Perhaps 5%? I seriously doubt any more than that but I'll assume a very generous 10% just to demonstrate the absurdity of all this. So then, 10% of the autumn visitors would equal about 45,000 people and they might take - oh, I'm gonna guess ten colorful leaves home with them; a whopping 450,000 leaves! That's less than what two trees produce annually - probably less than most of you rake up in your own back yards each fall and let's not forget it's spread out over 3,000 acres! Of the nearly 188 trillion leaves shed annually by the park's trees, we're talkin' about .00024% or put another way - jack diddly squat! Undoubtedly, more leaves blow into the park from neighboring private property than what you'd reasonably expect people to collect with their kids while teaching them to...uhm...appreciate the handiwork of God (a.k.a "the environment")!
I'm not suggesting that regulation of human behavior is unnecessary. On the contrary, scripture clearly teaches of the need for a governmental authority to restain man's fallen nature; keeping his tendency to destroy himself in check. I live next to a township park and serve on the committee which regulates it; giving its operation oversight. Therefore, I'm well aware of the need to have in place sound policies and ordinances to curtail certain human behavior which, if left unchecked, would eventually blight such places. What I'm saying is that parks are there for people - to be enjoyed by people. Therefore, they should be preserved for people not from people - a very important distinction. In the former, people are stewards of the land; in the latter - invaders; trespassers! If you prevent a child from climbing a tree or cherishing a few autumn keepsakes then you're instilling in them the notion that their very presence is somehow damaging the ground upon which they stand - your guiding principles are a bit skewed - however well-intentioned they may be.
The crux of the matter; the root of this whole environmental debate is the condition of the human race - I'll delve into this further in Part 2. 'Til then, consider with me some insights from the Word of God:

18For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.
19For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God.
20For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope
21that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.
22For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now.
Romans 8:18-22 (New American Standard Bible)

And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.

My Journey Part-8

This is #8 of a nine-part series.
If you'd like to skip to a different chapter,
Just click on the My Journey series
under LABELS (Top of the page, on the right side of your screen).

My next post is coming soon. It'll be another in my
Commentary On Our Culture series - A piece on the Green Movement
and our relationship with the environment!

It's a picture-perfect Saturday morning and I'm pacing the concrete floor of my garage. The Sun's rays have cleared the tree tops and the long shadows are in full retreat; they're all that remain of the previous night - that and a heavy dew. Ah yes, the dew - millions of tiny droplets sparkling in the dawn's early light. Their collective moisture has given the countryside a good soaking; it's the reason for my delay but soon they too will burn away and the conditions will be ideal. The turf will be dry and several hours will pass before the midday heat sets in; several hours 'til the kids (with a little help from Duchess, our knuckle-headed dog) have strewn their bicycles, toys, and various articles of clothing across the property.
Name your diagnosis if you're so inclined: A clinical disorder, a malady of the brain or maybe I was dropped at birth. Whatever the reason, I'm one of those odd-ball individuals who actually enjoys mowing the lawn. For some - probably most fellas, cutting the grass is nothing more than a long, dirty and sweaty hike between the tool-shed and his favorite chair, cold beverage, and the ol' ballgame on TV. For me, it's another outlet for creative expression. Did I just write that? Yeah-yeah, I know - it sounds like a puddle of dribble from some tofu-eating, art festival type. So... for the sake of perspective, let me mention that I also fell trees, split wood, own a gun, and know how to clean & gut a fish! (Okay, I admit it - I like art festivals too. I guess my skull is just a left brain/right brain battle ground!)
Now where was I? Oh yes - mowing the lawn. You can tell the difference between the job done by a guy like me and the one done by some Joe whose mind never really left the family room - his brain remained parked in front of a large plasma TV the whole time. Meandering back and forth, Joe is not the least bit concerned about patterns or straight lines as he leaves clumps of wet clippings in his wake. After all, if he waited 'til the turf was dry or took some extra time to perfect his technique, he might miss the first couple of innings - I guess it's just a simple question of priorities. As for me - well, I like ballgames & beverages too but I also want my work to have good form; to demonstrate attention to detail. After the equipment is put away and the clippings are swept off the porch; with the scent of fresh-cut grass yet lingering in the air, I walk the land I've just groomed and find the straight lines and consistent patterns pleasing to my senses. What I behold resembles...well, it resembles one of the ball fields on TV (that is if you squint & look past the dandelions!)

My wife & I with our two oldest kids attended
this game at Comerica Park back in 2007.
Now that's a lawn!

Aha - dry at last! I ease my 54" Bobcat mower from the garage, adjust a few settings, and pull the starter cord. A pair of morning doves frantically flap their wings, making a hasty retreat from their roost as the powerful engine awakens from its seven-day slumber. After a couple of trips around the perimeter of the entire property, I'm now ready for my first pass across the field and I want it to be perfectly straight. This will be the standard for all the rows which follow it. Neither Joe nor the morning doves appreciate the effort but to me, it's a work of art; the first brush-strokes on a two-acre canvass!

To cut a straight path, I don't focus my attention on the ground directly in front of me but rather that which is far afield. I choose a stationary point in the distance - a tree or maybe a fence-post and fix my gaze upon it. Proceeding toward the distant object, I sight it in with the center of my machine, I do not deviate from my course nor do I take my eyes off of my mark. I reach the end of the run and come-about. Craning my neck, I look back upon my work and give myself a nod of approval. The four and a half foot wide swath I had just carved across the property couldn't have been straighter had it been laid out with a giant ruler! The remaining round-trips across our parcel are accomplished with an equal amount of care & precision until I've completed the job. A few hours later and I'm relaxing in my hammock while enjoying a few moments of quiet reflection; giving some thought to this juncture in my life - this juncture and lines in the grass.
My thoughts these days are largely occupied by the difficulties we're grappling with. Questions, elusive answers, agonizingly slow answers... My waking hours - sometimes, even my sleeping hours are spent mulling over our options and trying to redeem my time as best I know how. I must confess that some days I'm frustrated to the point that I feel I may burst - like my innards are about to reach critical mass and a melt-down is imminent! Some days I sit in quiet circumspection and a wave of sadness overwhelms me. We're losing our home - I'm not sure when or how we'll secure a new residence though we must accomplish this soon. I've not yet settled the matter of whether we'll even be able to remain in this state! There's this nagging sense I can't seem to shake - that following close behind me are the hounds of regret for whatever decisions I make.
Folks, you look for answers on the phone, in the mail box and while negotiating with others. You hone your skills, read books and scripture and search your hearts and minds for wisdom and discernment. You bend the knee and beseech the Lord for providence - for guidance. And yet while you're looking in one direction, God sometimes drops a profound answer right in your lap - while gently swinging in your hammock with grass clippings still in your hair!
Look far afield! Don't focus on the conditions around you; don't become entangled in what lies on your left or calls to you from your right. Never mind what's behind you and don't make a habit of navel-gazing. Rather, fix your gaze on your destination! To do otherwise will invariably lead you to stray off course. The bumps and irregularities in the turf are inevitable as you press on but they must not become your focus - note them; adjust to them but do not allow them to become a distraction! Prayerfully consider your goals and apply all due diligence and tenaciously set out to achieve them!

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!"
For it is He who delivers you from the
snare of the trapper
And from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with His pinions,
And under His wings you may seek refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.
You will not be afraid of the terror by night,
Or of the arrow that flies by day;
Of the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
Or of the destruction that lays waste at noon.
A thousand may fall at your side
And ten thousand at your right hand,
But it shall not approach you.
You will only look on with your eyes
And see the recompense of the wicked.
For you have made the LORD, my refuge,
Even the Most High, your dwelling place.
No evil will befall you, Nor will any
plague come near your tent.
For He will give His angels charge concerning you,
To guard you in all your ways.
They will bear you up in their hands,
That you do not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread upon the lion and cobra,
The young lion and the serpent
you will trample down.
"Because he has loved Me,
therefore I will deliver him;
I will set him securely on high,
because he has known My name.
"He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble;
I will rescue him and honor him.
"With a long life I will satisfy him
And let him see My salvation."
Psalm 91 (NASV)

One of my readers asked me to post a photo
of our lawn so here it is. From up in the
tree-house, you can't tell it's just a bunch
of country weeds!

My Bob Cat

Thanks to all of you for your prayers and kind words.
Just a quick up-date:

• My household is in the early stages of bankruptcy and foreclosure.
• My brother and I have formed a new company and have been operating it since the end of the first quarter.
• Thus far we've been able to keep the company operating in positive territory.
• We took a 50% pay-cut in order to allow our new venture to gain some momentum.
• We must be able to grow the company steadily in a tough market in order to restore our incomes to the level we need to support our families - a tall order but there have been some encouraging trends in the past few weeks so we'll see.
• Housing for my family is a critical issue and we're exploring a few good possibilities.
• At times, the stress takes its toll but God is using these times to strengthen us - of this I have no doubt!
  

United We Fall

Making my way home today; cruising along I96-west, my head was occupied by nothing in particular. I suppose I was mulling over the business of the day or maybe my agenda for tomorrow - I really don't recall. That is until my mind was brought into sharp focus - a billboard caught my eye and the old synapses started firing. "Now when did they put that one up?" I said to the empty seat beside me. Does the image above give you a warm, fuzzy feeling inside; does it give you a greater sense of security? An adorable little girl on her daddy's shoulders waving old glory; surrounded by a diverse throng holding fast to the same devotion; look at it - you'd be hard pressed to find a more innocent and inspiring portrayal of civil expression.

But...what about the words - the message we're all supposed to take to heart? Those words - they bothered me all the way home. I rolled on through the familiar countryside of our rural community, all the while that message was replaying in my mind.

What makes
us great.

UNITY
Pass It On

Well...okay then, I'll pass it on - that is, I'll pass on my editorial on their roadside proverb. I hope you don't think me a kill-joy but I feel compelled to dissect that happy little message. So then, is that really true - does unity make us great? Now I assume from the context of the accompanying image, "us" infers the United States of America. Unity - it's a notion tightly woven into our history. About 210 years ago, a revered statesman from our nation's founding gave his final public oration:

"Let us trust God, and our better judgment to set us right hereafter. United we stand, divided we fall. Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs."
-Patrick Henry

"United we stand, divided we fall' - it originally appears in a couple of Aesop's fables from around 600BC. Today, it's one of the most widely recognized quotations among the American people. So why does that billboard, in all its warm, cute, inspiring, feel-good imagery bother me? Aren't they expressing the very same sentiments that Patrick Henry spoke of? Is it not one of the foundational ideas for western culture - dating back to the ancient Greeks? As I explore these ideas, let me first put forth the following premise - that by "great" the billboard folks are speaking of our nation's virtues; our quality as a people and not our economic and military might.

So then, does unity make a nation great? Does it make any set or subset of individuals great? Look at the images below. Now you must admit that there's a strong unity among the people pictured there - am I right? In those examples, do you see a people elevated to greatness or degraded by their unity?

Go back and carefully read the entire quote from Patrick Henry's speech; are there any conditions to his admonition unto his fellow Americans to unite? Did he not qualify the Aesop quotation by first mentioning a trust in God? Faith is foundational to "that union upon which our existence hangs." - isn't it?
Unity doesn't make a people great; it's that which they're united by that makes them great! The Nazis were united around a false ideology. So was fascist Italy and imperial Japan. All throughout history man has sought to be united around his own fallacious ideas. God didn't have much esteem for man's unity when, at Babel they sought to build a great tower as a monument unto themselves, did He? Instead, He confounded their plans and scattered them - divided them!

When I saw that billboard, the warmth of the image was chilled by message. I shuddered as I thought of what has happened to my people - my culture. Just what banner am I being asked to unite under these days? The cute little girl and the stars & stripes; the solemn display of patriotism - they're not enough to overcome the gauntlet of man-centered ideas I'm assaulted by each day. Consider these words by another founding father:

"Our Constitution is designed only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate for any other". -John Adams

Our nation isn't great because of its unity. In fact, it was born under a great deal of disunity. An uneasy tension had been brewing for years as a growing number of colonists were no longer content to be united under British rule. They chose contention over tyranny. Yet, not all of them - many were indifferent if not opposed to the revolution. Our nation is great because of its constitution - written under the premise that all men are created equal and that our rights come from the Creator rather than the benevolence of government. We've wandered so far away from the freedoms found under a constitutionally limited republic and what we're left with is by and large, hostile towards the very ideas upon which liberty is possible. The moral fabric of our nation has become threadbare - battered by the winds of godless thought. Therefore, I'm inclined to resist the notion of unity with a people who've jettisoned the values that made it great. Without faith in God, that roadside message is as hollow as the empty beverage cans that litter the tall grass in its shadow. Unity at the expense of well-founded values is worthless! Look to scripture; did Christ command us to preach unity? Well...did He?

"Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn 'a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law — a man's enemies will be the members of his own household.' "Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." Matt. 10: 34-37 (NIV)

I love my country but I cannot unite with a people so hostile to Biblical truth. By simply holding fast to the values this nation once held in common, I and those like me have now been labeled as extreme - even potential terrorists! If we the people unite around man-contrived values, then we will lose our greatness. I am writing this knowing that the majority of my readers are people with whom I'm indeed united - in Christ. And so I want to caution my brothers and sisters to discern everything. Whether it be a clever ad campaign or the postings in this blog, I encourage you to filter it all through God's Word.
As citizens of this nation, it is our duty to uphold the biblical values upon which it was founded; to do our utmost to influence the course of our society. We cannot do that if we sully ourselves by adopting the prevailing thoughts of contemporary man; laying aside truth for the sake of unity.

Two words

Of God
-Those two words
make all the difference in the world.

Back in 1989, a new clothing label hit the market under the name No Fear. Before long, their moniker was plastered everywhere as the youngsters of the day seemed to latch on to its bold, implicit message. Those two words aptly expressed the attitude of a large segment of our society - a youthful generation coming of age.
Now, I'm not the trendy sort - never have been. I don't get my clothes from shopping malls. The Gap? I haven't darkened their doorway since the early '80s so I couldn't tell ya what hangs from the racks in places like those. Walmart - need I say more? Nevertheless, ambling along through life in my discounted denim & flannel duds, even I eventually noticed the t-shirts and bumper stickers.

They where everywhere - it got to be so you couldn't drive to the corner market without seeing at least one of those stickers displayed on the rear window of someone's car. I'll bet you've seen 'em too; usually accompanied by a little counterfeit Calvin character urinating on some object of the driver's scorn. Oh, and let's not forget the obligatory call letters of a local rock-n-roll FM-station.
Whether I'm sharing the road with the daily rush of commuting motorists or visiting the home of one of my clients, I make an effort to note the various clues people leave as to who they are - what they live for. It might be something brash and audacious such as a Darwin fish on the bumper of a car or perhaps something more subtle and endearing - maybe a copy of Pilgrim's Progress on someone's coffee table. I like to study people; to understand their view of the world; to discern the trends in my culture.
No Fear - really? No fear of what; of...anything? If that be your motto - your approach to life, upon what is your fearlessness based? Do you mean to say you have nothing to fear - that the consequences of your decisions and behavior are irrelevant? Is it a willingness to step out of your comfort zone and take some calculated risks. Do you have a noble objective in mind - or is it reckless abandon just for the thrill of it?

Those words and images people display on their fading garments or the rusting surfaces of their rides to work - I slow down to read 'em. Sitting in traffic, I often pray for the bearer of the more obnoxious of these social statements.
Take a good look at the guy in the photo above, he didn't do the math - and they never found his body. Two plus two equals four. No Fear plus Of God equals...well, you do the math! The ideas you live your life by - they have consequences. If you've assembled your own creed; cut & pasted with bits of disjointed ideas brought to market via bumper sticker slogans and pop music lyrics, you have every reason to fear - you're speeding toward your eventual demise! "But hey, what ride!" you say. This No Fear Of God generation is wholly given over to its own amusements. A people such as this - they stand for nothing therefore they will fall for anything. It's a natural progression; a consequence of the past few generations having been taught that they are merely the product of their environment - that they're accountable to their own desires rather than the Creator's. Truth be told, their bumper stickers should read, No discretion, or No Discernment, or No Clue...

¹ This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come.

² For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy,

³ Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good,

⁴ Traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God;

⁵ Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.

-2 Timothy 3: 1-5 (KJV)

To you, it may seem a paradox but if you wish to truly live your life with no fear, you must have fear - Fear Of God! I've known far too many youngsters who've abandoned the faith of their parents. Raised in Christian homes, taught from scripture and exposed to sound doctrine throughout their formative years, they cast it aside to follow the enticements of contemporary thought. Kids who know the truth, willfully reject it; filling the resulting void in their hearts with a set of values of their own making. In a vain search for something to add "meaning" to their lives, they ignore healthy fear as they go from thrill to thrill.
Of God - are you? Consider the words of Jesus Christ:

^{24 Then said Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.}

^{25 For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.}

^{26 For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?}

^{-Matthew 16:24-26 (KJV)}

The Race

"Daddy, can we work on it today...Can we? You said 'soon'...Is it 'soon' now? Daddy? C'mon Daddy!"... It's early April and anyone who's ever been involved in scouting knows that the big race is fast approaching. Cub Scout packs everywhere are preparing for their annual pinewood derby. The count-down to our race is at T-minus-seven days and Benjamin & I have been busy. Bed-time rules have relaxed a bit for my second son as we've spent time together out in my work-shop this past week, working on our entry in this year's event. Ben's car joins a long lineage of wooden racers; crafted by father & son - working together, attempting a winning design. We've come up with a number of fun and whimsical cars in derbies past: Sleek dragsters, rocket-cars, a couple of American flags, even a choo-choo train. I once entered my own car in the open class a few years ago - it was a bed! You know - a mattress & headboard; it was a cute little scaled model, complete with a comforter, matching pillow case, and a little fella snoozin' under the covers. I named it, "fast asleep" - It lost.

Our oldest son, Bradley decided to enter a choo-choo
a few years ago. It took first place for craftsmanship!

Over the years, we've taken some first-place trophies for craftsmanship and won a few races but it's been quite a long spell since anyone in our family took the overall first prize in a pinewood derby event - some thirty seven years, actually! I can still recall the thrill: It was the early 1970's, my dad & I rolled out a dark metallic blue little number (the same color as dad's Oldsmobile) and it easily won every single race. I remember the ride home that night in the back seat of dad's '69 Cutlass Supreme, holding my car in one hand and a big blue ribbon in the other. I also vividly recall the realization that none of it would've happened without my dad. Would you believe I still have that car? I do - what's left of it, anyhow.

Here's ol' blue from '72.
My kids have since pulled the wheels off.
Hey, that's no way to treat a champion!

Fast asleep!

THE RULES:
Width - 2 3/4"
Length - 7"
Width between wheels - 1 3/4"
Bottom clearance above track - 3/8"
Weight - Not more than 5 ounces

Each boy is given a kit with all the essential raw materials - A block of wood, four wheels, and four axles. The finished product must comply with the above specifications or it will be disqualified. The project begins with a sheet of paper - after the boy decides on a theme or type of car, he begins to draw his ideas. With a little direction from his dad, a feasible design is worked out and the outline is transferred to the block of wood. Sawing, shaping, sanding - the boy learns some basic woodworking skills while his dad leans over him; steadying his hand. Each year, the boy's own hand grows more capable as he learns to manipulate the various tools; transforming a formless block of wood into something resembling what he had hoped it would become.

Ben begins to work his design.

It's more than a fun distraction - a mere amusement, it is an opportunity for a dad to impart some important qualities onto his son. The easy thing to do would be to hand Ben his derby kit, show him the design parameters, and let him loose in the work-shop. The resulting car, if completed at all, would fail to qualify for the race - the dimensions and weight wouldn't meet specs, the wheels wouldn't be properly aligned, and the youngster wouldn't know how to make the adjustments necessary to be eligible.
It's not unlike the relationship I have with my Heavenly Father. There is a rule book - scripture; there are all the necessary raw materials with which to build my life - body, mind, & spirit; there are tools; parents, church, school, friends, etc. God didn't simply drop me into this world to fend for myself - He knows my frame, that I am weak and that I'll never qualify by my own attributes or skills. Therefore, He became flesh and dwelt among us. In Christ Jesus, I am qualified and as I press on with my race, the Holy Spirit guides me; steadying my hand as I wield the tools He's provided me!
Tomorrow is Easter - Resurrection Sunday and I can't help but remember the great price which was paid to qualify me for the race; for the kingdom of God! Thank You Jesus!

Ben brought home a couple of awards last year!

Today, we applied the first of several coats of paint. When finished with that, the wheels will be carefully attached and aligned for optimal performance. I'll let you know how we fare.

UPDATE:

Ben's car didn't win any races
but was given an award for
most unique.

Ben looks on as his car races toward the finish line!

Ben's car & trophy.

A prayer for strength

After sundown a few evenings ago, I went for a stroll; my heart longing to spend some quiet time with my Heavenly Father. A scripture I have known from my youth was playing again and again in my mind as I began to pray:

Psalm 5; 1-3 KJV

¹Give ear to my words, O LORD, consider my meditation.

²Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King, and my God: for unto thee will I pray.

³My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O LORD; in the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up.

"I'm but a speck upon this rotating orb I call home; this sphere suspended in its course so long ago. I look up and gaze upon the same stars which countless others have beheld throughout the ages - I look to you who are high above it all. Intrinsically immersed am I in the fabric of creation; this shattered world, and I am subject to its futility. Heavenly Father, can it be that you are mindful of me? You who created it all - from the tiniest particle to the vastness of the expanse of the heavens; can it be that I have your ear? The troubles which plague me, the fearful things which steal my rest, the aching in my heart, the host of voices that demand my attention... You know them all? Can it be?"

(I paused for some moments of quiet contemplation)

"Lord, I've measured myself a found that I am wholly inadequate to fulfill the calling on my life - to complete the race in which I'm running. Why is it that you've given me tasks which are greater than me? My heart has been so heavy and burdened lately. I think of my wife, my children and others in my life - I'm afraid that I've failed them! And yet, the years of instruction from your Word, the lessons learned since I was a boy; treasures deep within me - they all speak clearly; crying aloud so that I cannot ignore them. Therefore, my soul takes comfort in this: That it is not by my strength nor by my wisdom but by yours, Lord. And so I press on believing that your purposes will be accomplished in me and in my family and through us, your name will be glorified!"

Psalm 27:13

"I would have despaired

unless I had believed

that I would see the goodness of the Lord

in the land of the living."

My Journey Part-7

This is #7 of a nine-part series.
If you'd like to skip to a different chapter,
Just click on the My Journey series
under LABELS (Top of the page, on the right side of your screen).

Morning: Cold water splashed on my face; it trickles past the stubble on my cheeks. I breathe out a sigh as I stand in front of the mirror. "Who is that guy staring back at me? I don't recognize him anymore. He looks...Well, he looks tired; he looks...old." It's early spring and as the sun rises, silhouetting the still bare trees this chilly morning, I find myself wanting for answers that elude me. That face; that tired old face I see in the mirror...I'm afraid it is mine. Although I don't want to admit it, the past year has taken a toll. It's time for some changes - some very difficult changes.
I'm really not a morning person!

Have you ever remodeled a home; maybe a bathroom or perhaps something a bit more ambitious? Ideally, there's an order to such a project. You start with a vision; an image in your mind's eye. You try to imagine the finished product; to see yourself relaxing in the newly renovated space. From your vision flows everything else: You develop a set of plans; the plans are reviewed, revised and finalized; the plans are then submitted to the local inspection authority and a permit is issued. Finally, construction begins...with demolition. Demolition is the most unpleasant phase of the project; you're tearing down rather than building up. Demolition is dust and debris; it's noise and calamity - it most certainly does not feel like progress. Demolition may involve a wall or two while other times, the entire structure - maybe right down to the very foundation! Soon the smell of plaster dust and dry-rot gives way to the aroma of fresh-cut lumber as the renovation takes shape. And so it goes - ideally, that is.
Then, of course there are the non-ideal situations. In these, demolition isn't part of one's master plan, it's the result of some sort of catastrophe. A storm, flood or fire has damaged - maybe even destroyed the home. Under duress, a plan emerges from the rubble. You evaluate what's left; if it cannot be salvaged, it must be stripped away. What remains, remains. And from there, you plan to reconstruct or build elsewhere.

In the ideal situation, you're envisioning a project that will improve or add to what you already have. In the non-ideal, you're hoping to restore what has been lost.
I now find myself in the midst of a storm. The winds have not yet abated and the dust is still thick in the air but I'm beginning to see what has been lost. Walking through the debris field, I'm trying to regain some vision; to formulate a plan of action. I must consider the delicate balance between the daily needs of my family while considering how to restore stability to our household.
"What storm?" You ask. Okay, I'll forgo the analogies: The economic "storm" which has been raging over the state of Michigan for the past few years has severely weakened our family business. We've been steadily losing ground financially for some time. We've been in a fighting retreat for the past two quarters and have cut everything that can be cut without touching our salaries. However, the company can no longer afford to pay me what my large family requires. Either we quickly develop and implement a business plan; one which includes a reasonable expectation for growth or I must seek another line of work. Unfortunately, I don't see a reasonable expectation for growth and so I'm biding my time while trying to shore-up the company as best I can before my departure. I would leave large hole in the organization if I didn't do my best to stabilize things for my brother and Dad before moving on. Another reality has become painfully clear; we will likely lose our home in the next five to six months. It's enough to make a 45 year-old guy suddenly feel...well, old!
In the coming weeks I'll be writing more about this situation but know this: I have no doubt that God knows our needs and I'm confident that He's using these times to bring about His glory in my family, in me...in this forum. Nevertheless, I ask for your prayers as I seek discernment, wisdom, and courage to follow wherever God leads. In short, I need a plan - a set of blue-lines and some specification notes. After all, God is my architect!

My Journey - Part 6

This is #6 of a nine-part series.
If you'd like to skip to a different chapter,
Just click on the My Journey series
under LABELS (Top of the page, on the right side of your screen).

Behind me, the eastern sky had already been enveloped in the advancing shadow of night. Above, I watched the darkness blend into a brilliant azure blue. The stunning palette of deep colors stretched on toward the western horizon where the Sun had already bade me a warm farewell. Leaving behind a pale pink ribbon; the remaining light yielded the stage to the first stars of the evening. Far away - across the sea, street lamps were extinguishing as people awakened to a new day. The world keeps turning; it pauses for no one.
As for me, I was heading off into the sunset - no, not like the hero at the end of an old western film. If my life indeed, were a movie, this would be the part when all seemed lost; where the audience despaired for want of a happy ending. Looking down at his watch, the astute theater patron would note that this story is only half finished; the plot is now just thickening!

Last weekend, a couple of pieces of information were delivered to me with all the charm of a sucker-punch to the gut. Stumbling around and just a bit dazed, I had reached my tipping-point. I desperately needed a sabbatical. No, I didn't want a vacation - it was urgent that I find a quiet retreat. It was time for me to turn off all the ambient noise in my life; pull back from my daily obligations and bring my full attention to bear on the tangled and crisscrossing threads that were making it impossible for me to see a clear path ahead. It was time to head west.
By Monday afternoon my plans were firmed-up; I would leave after dinner. I could detect the angst in my wife as I packed my overnight bag. She understood the need but she too was carrying some of the burden of our circumstances and didn't exactly relish the thought of my absence for the next couple of days. It's in my nature to fix things. My work shop has a tool for just about any project or repair you could imagine but you'll find nothing there for a woman's emotions. I tried delivering reassuring words and some gentle touch but their usual potency seemed a bit diluted this time. I kissed eight children and gave Melanie a long embrace and headed out the door. Having tossed my provisions onto the rear bench-seat of my truck, I settled in behind the wheel - delayed only for a moment as I instructed the GPS device to guide me to the Holiday Inn Express in Ludington. I already knew the way - I just like my gadgets! Reaching into my coat pocket I expected to feel the cold, metallic jumble of keys but my finger tips discovered that the keys were not alone. As I pulled my hand from the pocket, the usual jingling sound was muted by the small, folded piece of paper which accompanied it. Rebecca, our oldest daughter had written me a note. She'd sealed it using a strip of leather with a mother of pearl heart pendant attached and secretly deposited into my right pocket.

This is a picture of Becky's note to me

As the darkness settled across the land, I drove on. The remains of that sunset still lingered in the distance, beckoning me to follow. The white dashed line on the pavement stretched out before me; its paint glowing in the beam from my head-lamps. The bright flashes of reflected light measured a sort of tempo; as if my journey was a piece of music - its rhythm had an almost hypnotic effect on me as I traveled along in quiet contemplation. Driving north on US-30; somewhere between Muskegon and Ludington I realized that I was just about the only one on that lonely stretch of highway - just me and my four tires humming their tune as the road-paint kept time.
The silence was broken by the pseudo-feminine voice of my GPS device; announcing my approaching exit as I neared Ludington. "Thanks, but I know a short cut" I said - my voice falling on deaf ears. "Recalculating route" said the gadget as if answering me. I guess I was starving for a conversation. A few minutes later little miss know-it-all chimed in again, "Your destination is on the right". "Thanks!" I said with a sarcastic tone; making the turn into the hotel's driveway.
After checking in, I settled into my room. Wasting little time, I made a bee-line to the upholstered chair & ottoman in the corner. Falling into its embrace, I let out a long sigh. I glanced across the room and my eyes fell on the on the cheap clock radio resting on the night stand; its crimson display read 9:00pm. And what was that? I know I'd heard it before... Silence; no background noise, no conversations, no phones ringing, just me and my thoughts - and hopefully... God's thoughts!
I spent some time meditating on scripture: Psalm 27 and the verses my daughter had penciled on her note. Then, with pen in hand and a new legal pad on the table before me I began to write. It was as if some obstruction had been removed and the words began to flow. Line after line and page after page I began to see with greater clarity as all the pent-up observations, discernment, insights, desires, emotions and the like began to be unraveled from one another. With all of it laid out before me in the form of hand-written notes scratched out across many pages, I began to ask God to weave into it His wisdom; His will. I longed to have some direction; a course and heading; to know I was leading my family in the direction God wants us to go.
On Tuesday as the morning hours waned, I emerged from my room and motored my way to Ludington State Park - a vast area of Lake Michigan shore line, sand dunes, dense forests, steep ridges and deep valleys. I have known this area from my youth and its familiar landscape is what drew me here this week. I've never before walked those trails in the dead of winter and I expected to find the area pretty much deserted - it was. Only a handful of maintenance workers, trimming trees near the park office; no one else could be found.
(If you follow this link, you can practically trace the steps of my hike; I parked at the end of highway 116, followed the Lighthouse Trail to Big Sable Point, continued on that trail until jumping over to the Ridge Trail, and finally made my way back to my starting point). The first leg of my hike was to be the 1.7-mile walk out to the Big Sable Point Lighthouse. I was most curious to see this stoic structure amidst the snow and ice; a spectacle I'd only seen in photos before. My most recent visit there was two summers ago. We and our children climbed the spiraling steps to the top and enjoyed the view as warm breezes blew through our hair. On this day, the weather was quite different; the breezes blowing through my hair came in off the icy water. They carried with them a local weather phenomenon known as lake-effect snow. The rest of the state was enjoying sunny skies but there, along the shores of Lake Michigan snow squalls were plentiful. I lingered near the lighthouse a while, snapped a few photos and then gave the trail map a quick study. The Lighthouse Trail takes an easterly direction from Big Sable Point and follows a route inland; meandering through acres of sand dunes, dense stands of jack pine, up and over bluffs, and finally connects with a maze of other trails which offer its travelers a variety of beautiful scenery. Locating the marker indicating the way, I ventured on. Obviously, I was the first to walk this trail in months. The only tracks I found were those belonging to deer, rabbit, squirrel, and coyote. On several occasions, I had to consult my compass & trail map as the drifted snow was covering any evidence of a beaten path.
As I was passing through a stand of white pine searching for a trail marker, my mind drifted back to a time some fourteen years earlier. Rebecca, just a little girl then had traveled this very same trail - riding on my shoulders the whole way. I reached into my pocket. There it was; that crumpled note from my daughter - no longer sitting on my shoulders but rather standing on the threshold of womanhood, she had sent along with me a scripture most appropriate for this moment. She has no idea how much that blessed her daddy!

Psalm 119: 105
"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path"

As I walked the area in ever-widening circles, meditating on this scripture I located the next trail marker. Pressing on toward my destination, it occurred to me that I'm walking a road less traveled in my life. What I mean to say is, I'm not on the the typical college degree, 2.5 children, suburban-America, nice vacation once a year, retirement at 65 with money in the bank road. With my entrepreneurial tendencies and disdain for the winds of contemporary thought, I've often found myself navigating through areas which others avoid.
Finding your way through unfamiliar or un-marked terrain requires a greater awareness of your surroundings - to be able to orient yourself on a map of the region. There's no pavement; no perfectly spaced white lines painted to keep you centered in your lane. You must have the ability to plot your present location and know which course and heading will see you to your destination. You must know how to navigate rather than follow a prescribed route. Though I may be on a road less traveled, I'm not without guidance. Scripture illuminates the way and God supplies encouragement, exhortation, and discernment through good Christian fellowship.
After a few hours of hiking, I returned to my truck feeling physically tired but refreshed in my spirit. I felt God had given me a new resolve to press on and trust Him to help me both identify our destination and plot the best course to get there. Sometimes a simple walk in the woods can speak volumes if you're listening! Before dinner, I parked along the waterfront in Ludington; reflecting on the time spent in the stillness of a sleeping forest and all the thoughts I'd written down the past twenty four hours. The Sun was setting over the pier - warm hues were suspended for the moment over a frozen seascape - It was growing dark yet I could almost hear the daylight sky whispering its parting words; words of encouragement; words of a coming spring. Somehow, it seemed a fitting end to my day. The world had turned one more time. The next morning I'd tell my trusty ol' GPS gadget to guide me home.

Three of our boys pose for a picture after
climbing the Big Sable Point Light.
July 2007

This is the view of the lighthouse from atop a
nearby dune. Beyond, you can see the icepack
extending some 75-100 yards into the
cold waters of Lake Michigan.

I ventured about 50-yards out onto the icepack and snapped this shot. It was very difficult walking as I made my way between and over refrigerator-sized chunks of frozen Lake Michigan; a pair of ice-climbing boots would have been nice for that little adventure!

This is where the water and ice meet. It looks like a scene from the Arctic Sea; doesn't it? During the winter months, the entire Lake Michigan shore line looks like this - fractured slabs of ice heaped high; cemented together as frigid waters wash over the top during the brutal winter storms which frequently blow across this fresh water sea.

Snow drifts and white pine here made the trail
hard to find at times.

There were a couple of stretches where
I wished I had donned a pair of snowshoes!

I've taken many summertime strolls out to the Ludington Pier light but not this day. With mounds of ice piled high atop the concrete structure, only a complete fool would venture out there now. I went half way so I guess I'm an incomplete fool!

The Sun setting over the frozen Ludington Pier.