The Wall

If you happen to be a runner, you know it as hitting the wall; that moment in the race or a long cross-country jog when you're contending with your own body. Fatigue sets in; each footfall has you wondering, "Have I got what it takes to complete this course?" If you're a writer, you've probably been confronted by a similar obstacle; in your world they call it writer's block. Now, I've never fancied myself a writer; it would seem a bit presumptuous to consider myself as such. I've loosely kept a journal over the years and I post my thoughts in this blog - nothing more ambitious than that. If I ever manage to get something published; well, maybe then I'll identify myself as a writer. 'Til then, it's just plain 'ol me!
Nonetheless, I have experienced writer's block. The simple goal of writing a few endearing thoughts in a greeting card for example, has often been thwarted by some sort of mental blockage. I set upon the task of penciling-in a clever, inspiring line or two and end up with:

Dear so & so, I just wanted to say how much you, uhm...That is...er...oh never-mind. Happy Birthday; hope you like the card I got ya!

This past week, at least five or six times I've pulled my chair up to the desk. With my gaze fixed upon the soft glow of the monitor; my fingers hovered expectantly over the keyboard, anticipating their orders from my brain - to knit characters into sentences and sentences into paragraphs...the orders never came! The cursor was blinking at the top of the empty page, mocking me; daring me to move it along to the right. Each time, I've failed to assemble even one or two cogent paragraphs. Nothing I wrote seemed the least bit relevant and I couldn't imagine anyone taking the time to read past the first sentence.
So, I crumbled up those clumsy drafts and tossed 'em over my shoulder. Instead, I've been giving some thought as to what I want to do here; better put, I've been considering what God wants me to do here. Really now, what have I got to say? How will my words edify those who read them? One thing I keep coming back to - I need to write about me. Not exclusively, mind you; I'm just not that interesting. However, I am experiencing some profound challenges in my life right now and I believe God would have me live them openly before you. I believe my words can serve to encourage, exhort, challenge, and perhaps inspire you on to a greater faith. Maybe...just maybe, the adversity in my life right now is, at least in part, for that purpose.
So having said that, look for me to post as often as it would seem appropriate - my life in real-time. I invite you to join me on a little journey. On it, there are sure to be valleys as well as peaks. I am actively seeking God's will for me and my family. My hope - my prayer is that the reader will get a glimpse into the heart of a regular, garden-variety husband and dad as he confronts the giants in his life.
Please follow this link to 1 Cor. 9: 23-27

Vacuum

Aristotle first put forth the phrase, "nature abhors a vacuum" (my wife abhors her vacuum too but that's a story for another day). The topic for this posting isn't that noisy appliance we occasionally pilot around our homes; searching for stray Cheerios and dust-bunnies. No, rather today I'm thinking about an empty space; void of all matter or substance. Such a space demands to be filled because of the tremendous weight of its surroundings. As you're sitting there, reading these words of mine, the air is pressing against you at the rate of more than a ton per square foot! Were it not for the equal pressure within your body, you'd be squashed until an equilibrium was achieved! No worries though, that's how our lungs function; the muscles of the diaphragm create a vacuum by expanding the volume of the chest cavity and the lungs receive the resulting rush of air. Try this: After exhaling, pinch your nose and seal your lips; now try and draw a breath. With your nose still plugged and the veins sticking out of your neck, glance around the room; anyone staring at you? Just tell those folks giving you the funny looks that you're doing a scientific experiment! Now, unless your body can withstand the force of five or six tons, you couldn't do it; could ya? I'm sitting here with a smirk on my face just imagining how many of you I actually got to try it!
I'll bet you never thought of yourself as a vacuum before; am I right? Well, you are; semi-voluntarily all day, every day and you have been since the doctor smacked your posterior that moment you were born! As much as I'd like to go on about our physiology, I'm actually heading in a slightly different direction; but then, you knew that already, didn't you? People are spiritual vacuums as well. By design, we must be filled in the spiritual realm every bit as much as our lungs must fill when we draw a breath in the physical realm! Jesus had something to say about the subject and you can read His words in Matt. 12:43-45.
I don't know about you, but lately I've had a very heavy heart as I've witnessed the steady decline of my people. Western culture continues to decay and has been since the systematic eradication of biblical influence began. The lights went out in Europe decades ago. Churches there are merely a shell; a mockery of what they once were. While people worry about such things as the bird flu or mad-cow disease, the really frightening pandemic spreading across our hemisphere is a spiritual one. We pushed God out of our government, our schools and yes, even our churches. The resulting void demanded it be filled; and so it was!

"But realize this, that in the last days difficult times will come. For men will be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, arrogant, revilers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, unholy, unloving, irreconcilable, malicious gossips, without self control, brutal, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God; holding to a form of godliness, although they have denied its power...always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth."
2Timothy 3:1-5p,7

I look upon what the ignorant masses are so willing to worship; anyone or any thing but Jesus, and I just want to weep. When godliness is removed from a nation, there is simply no limit to the depths to which its people will descend. Finding examples of depravity in our society is an effortless pursuit. I read today of a 22 year old woman; selling her virginity to the highest bidder on the internet. Why? To raise funds to pay for her masters degree in marriage and family therapy. I'd find the irony laughable if it weren't so tragically sad.

"For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God, or give thanks; but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man..."
Romans 1: 21-23p

Do you sense as I do that we the people have given up the pursuit of a more perfect union? We've all witnessed the revelry; the exuberance and exultation the past two days as people welcome their new-found hope and change. It strikes me as profound; a nation, having forsaken the one true Savior, is so willing to put in His place; in the resulting void, a counterfeit messiah. Pray, my friends; pray fervently! Pray for the man who's been placed in such an impossible role. Pray for the people who put him on that pedestal. I hope for change as well; we call it revival.

Night at the Museum

Ben is fascinated with the "Jacob's Ladder" exhibit;
an electrical arc ascending between two electrodes.

Benjamin and I returned home a short while ago; a bit tired from our night at the museum. Sleep eluded us until well after 1:30am. Every time I glanced over at my son, he was wide-eyed; apparently fixated with the long shadows cast about the room as the ambient light fell across the various exhibits. Having all settled into our sleeping bags; voices trailing off and simmering down to a few sporadic whispers, one incessant noise remained. Some ten yards from my pillow was an exhibit demonstrating the various components of music. It was an interactive computer program where one can point and click on a piece of music; playing it in various keys and tempos. Apparently, after a few idle minutes it defaults to its starting page; some instructions on a colorful screen complete with a looping rhythm track - some sort of Latin or Mambo beat, I think. After several minutes of this, it became apparent to me that there wouldn't be a museum staffer appearing any time soon to relieve us of this torture.
Was I the only one in the room who noticed? The other group nestled in and around the display seemed oblivious to the contraption and it's obnoxious vibrations. "OK", I thought. "I'm not gonna get a minute of sleep while that machine is alive. I must kill it!" ...And I had just gotten comfortable! I crawled out of my warm bag and found my way over to the offending party; a wonderful, educational tool by day, an evil robber of slumber by night! "How do I turn this blasted gizmo off?" I mumbled under my breath. It was dark and I was fumbling around; looking for a switch; a thing-a-ma-jig; something. I moved the computer-mouse and suddenly a new screen appeared; a nice quiet screen! Relief, at last!
I tip-toed between the guys in the other group and made my way back to my section of commercial carpeting. Having settled back into a reasonably comfortable position, I laid my head back down. Thump dee dee thump, thump dee dee thump, thump dee dee thump... It was back! "That's it, where's that exhibit showing various building materials; I need to borrow a brick!" I tip-toed back over to my nemesis. "Aha, there it is; the power switch! Where were you hiding before?" The bright, colorful screen collapsed into white dot in the center of the monitor and disappeared. Vanquished! Once again, I maneuvered myself back into my bedding. I was just at that point; you know the one, where the line between awake and asleep is blurred; that's when the snoring began! Somewhere miles away, a woman was getting the best night's sleep she'd had in recent memory - her husband was with us! Either that, or the Toledo zoo was missing a walrus!
All that aside, we really did have a great time. Ben enjoyed the evening very much and I enjoyed watching him. There's nothing quite like seeing the wonder in your child's eyes as they experience something new.
Now, I think I'll go and take a nap!

Here, Ben is learning about civil engineering;
designing a sturdy bridge.

Ben and his buddy are testing the alarm circuit
they've just built.

Bed-time.

Chillin'

For the past several years, I and my boys have been involved in Scouting. My oldest son, Brad has achieved the rank of Star; two advancements shy of becoming an Eagle Scout. Benjamin, his younger brother will advance from Cub Scouts into Boy Scouts a little more than a year from now. I get in there with them as much as I can; camping and hiking being my favorite activity. The youngsters learn a variety of skills, gain knowledge and experience in safety, first aid and survival techniques during these excursions into the wild.

As I was considering what to write about today, I found that my thoughts kept returning to my boys. This is slated to be an eventful weekend for both of them. Ben and I will be spending the night at the Ann Arbor Hands-On Museum. He'll be earning his engineering pin this evening and later, we'll each claim a piece of museum floor as we bed down there for the night; tucked away in our sleeping bags among the exhibits.
Brad will be taking part in our district's annual Winter Event. He'll be camping tonight through Sunday morning; yes, we're talkin' tent camping! The overnight temperature is forecast to be minus ten degrees Fahrenheit tonight and nearly as cold Saturday night. If that weren't enough, we're told to expect 2-4 inches of fresh snow to fall during the day tomorrow. Well, this is the winter event, after all. At least he won't need his mosquito netting! Besides all the fun & games they have scheduled as the participating troops compete against each other, there are some valuable skills to be learned by the boys. Knowing how to survive in those conditions; to prepare for them, adapt to them, and even thrive in them is a valuable skill-set for anyone inclined toward the outdoors. For some of the boys, this will be their first time experiencing such extreme conditions. By the time they strike camp and head home early Sunday morning, they'll have earned their Polar Bear Patch; a distinction which both Brad and I have achieved.
About a year ago, I was gearing-up for this very same event. The weather then was nearly identical to this years'. OK, so instead of minus ten, the mercury only dropped to zero! When you venture out into such conditions; setting-up camp for an extended stay, your thinking changes. First of all, during the days leading up to your frigid adventure; checking your equipment, packing your gear, and the like, you begin to look around your home. You're surrounded by so much which keeps you warm, dry and contented. You realize that in a few hours, you'll be longing for the things you walk past each day without so much as a casual glance. You continue stuffing essentials into your trail pack all the while wondering why you or anyone for that matter would want to bed down in an ice-box!

I remember that day a year ago as Brad and I were about to embark on our icy expedition. I paused at my bedroom door, looking in at the most prominent piece of furniture inside. My wife's side of the bed would be warm and occupied while mine would be vacant. I thought, "While she adjusts her pillow and reads a few chapters before drifting off to sleep, I'll be stuffing a bunch of those chemical hand warmers down into the nether regions of my sleeping bag and settling in for a night of intermittent sleep!"

We arrived at our camp-site after dark. The vehicle doors opened and in an instant, the forest was alive with the sounds of a Boy Scout troop; the Scoutmaster barking out orders, the clatter of camp equipment being unloaded, the ringing of a hammer driving tent stakes into the frozen earth. An hour before, the woods were quiet; just a steady breeze whispering through the white pines. We set up only what was essential; the rest would wait 'til the morning.
Sleep was elusive but I was was reasonably well rested by sunup. As daylight began to illuminate my tent, I noticed that ice crystals had grown on the walls. Throughout the night, the moisture of each exhaled breath never left the confines of my polyester abode; it simply deposited itself on the interior surfaces. Apparently, the ice-box I was sleeping in didn't have a defrost feature!
In such an environment, your mind is cleared of any extraneous thought. All superfluous concerns are suspended as you focus in on your most basic needs; shelter, warmth, and nourishment. You know, in a way it was like a fast; a cleansing; a time to purge myself of the things which occupy my thought life each day. I returned home, exhausted yet refreshed. My body had worked extra hard to maintain its core temperature and it was craving sleep; sleep in that warm bed of ours. My mind was refreshed as I had quieted my soul for some thirty six hours; taking stock of how blessed I am.

Our camp site last winter.

Brad (wearing the fur hat) warming up by the fire.

Wow!

I suspect I'm not unique in this; that over the years as I've read through the scriptures, certain characters emerged from the pages as people I could identify with. Their triumphs and their failures recorded for all the ages; folks like you and I can, through ancient text and the Holy Spirit, see our own lives illustrated in many of the men and women of old. For me, a number of them come to mind as kindred spirits but none more so than Peter. His impetuous and sometimes impertinent behavior, his fiery temper, and even his willingness to throw his legs over the side of a boat in an attempt to walk on troubled waters; they're all traits that are manifest in me to some degree. As I close out the story I've been telling, it's that fiery temper which comes into focus.
2008 has been a very difficult year for our family business; the worst ever. As I write these words, I have no great confidence that our company will survive. As you're aware, the entire world has been plunged into economic uncertainty and chaos. In Michigan, we've been languishing through such a business environment for a few years now. Consequently, it has been no small struggle to meet payroll, pay the taxes, stay current with our suppliers and compete with hungry rivals bidding for the same contracts we are. It is in this climate that my story unfolds.
I believe it was sometime in August that I came home from the office to my family, unable to shake off the stress and anger that had been building inside me for a number of days. We were facing yet another pay-less payday and I wasn't sure when we'd be able to cut the checks this time. There was enough money in our receivables to get by but a handful of our clients were having cash flow problems of their own. Several of our invoices had aged to well over ninety days so, driven by an urgent need, I pressed hard for payment. That evening, my children didn't have their daddy nor my wife, her husband. There was only this despondent fellow sitting silently through dinner, impatiently barking at the slightest annoyance and methodically carrying out the few remaining duties of the day. After they had all gone to bed that evening he went out for a long walk in the surrounding countryside.
The gusting winds and light rain that evening reflected my mood as I ambled along in the darkness. I began filing a grievance with the only One I could; pouring out before the Lord my anger and contempt for one client in particular. What was this; was I actually calling for God's wrath upon someone? I had never presumed to do such a thing before. What was I becoming? I returned home an hour or so later feeling cold and dampened; as if the rain had soaked through my clothes right down into my soul. The house was quiet; just me alone with my thoughts. Recalling the day's events; I had resorted to harsh words during the course of my dealings earlier that afternoon.
Back in June, we had completed the next phase of a large and lengthy project for an old client of ours; a man with buildings, land, equipment, a beautiful home, and lots of expensive toys. When I tell you he has an RV worth more than my house, I'm not exaggerating! A payment from him had been expected some two months prior. All attempts to contact him went unanswered. I was perplexed, this wasn't typical of him. Finally, having reached the limit of my grace, I called his office; summoning my sternest, most intimidating voice I spoke with his secretary. I said to her in no uncertain terms that I would be driving over there the next morning and would not be leaving without a check in my hand!
Having slept very little after my walk in the rain, I drove to my office with a cloud still hovering over my head. I wasn't at my desk very long when my phone rang; I had finally gotten the man's attention! However, this was not the conversation I was expecting. As he spoke, all contentiousness left me; a lump formed in my throat. He began to tell of his troubles at home. His marriage crumbling and his family coming apart at the seams; everything else in his life, including his business, was set aside. He had become completely disengaged from all other concerns. What he said next completely took me by surprise. "Things have taken a turn for the better since I gave my life to Jesus Christ" he said. I glanced across the room and caught my Dad's eye; "wow" I silently mouthed the words to him as I continued to listen. We talked on the phone for an hour and a half; little of that conversation had anything to do with the matter that had consumed my thoughts the night before. Afterward, I returned the telephone handset to its cradle and leaned back in my chair. This time I said it audibly, "wow!" I felt like such a stooge! I had handled this situation with all the tact and diplomacy of Moe Howard!
All levity aside, let me suggest one more analogous angle; the Peter angle. Having spent the previous night in the Garden of Gethsemane; dozing-off while Jesus prayed, he responded to a threat by wielding his sword. Jesus; facing extreme torture and death, never deviated from His mission. Peter struck and severely injured a servant; Jesus healed him.
Like Peter, I was focused on adversity; on a conflict with men. Forgetting who I am in Christ and forsaking my mission, I lashed-out and lifted my voice to God in angry protest. He answered me the very next day having healed the man whose ear I had severed!
I'm pleased to report that this was a genuine conversion experience and he continues to grow in knowledge and faith. His marriage is on the mend! Wow!
Please read Matt 6: 19-34

Just a "Moe"ment

If there's such a thing as an entrepreneurial gene, I think I was probably born with it. As a boy, the trait became evident as I engaged in commerce; becoming a summertime lemonade stand tycoon. Later, I diversified my vast empire to include shoveling snow, mowing lawns, and raking leaves. My earnings were invested in bubble-gum trading cards, rubber snakes, cap-guns and the like. By the time my age had reached double-digits, I was rollin' in it! Having a portfolio which included several hundred baseball cards, I figured it was time to liquidate my assets. I found some gullible kid who lived a few blocks away; he took the whole kit and caboodle off my hands for five dollars! I recall noticing a bounce in his step as he walked off cradling the cardboard box; the same one which had been collecting dust beneath my bed. "What a sucker", I thought; wondering what else I could unload on him - perhaps those rusting Tonka-trucks buried in the sand box. Hey, I'll throw in a rubber snake to sweeten the deal!
I suppose somewhere this story is occasionally told by him as well. I can just imagine his version; about the dumb kid who took a lousy five bucks for a box of baseball cards; some five hundred of 'em including quite a few that turned out to be valuable collector's items worth hundreds today! I have little doubt that some of the contents of that dusty old box ended up shrouded in plastic sleeves and stored in a collector's safe somewhere; Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Al Kaline and the rest of the '68 Detroit Tigers... It was a treasure trove!
To this day, I continue to engage in free market capitalism. I've started a number of small businesses over the years and have learned much harder lessons than short-selling a box of baseball cards. There have been very rewarding moments and others that were extremely painful. For the past eleven years, I've worked with my Dad & brother in our family's electrical contracting business. For years Dad juggled all of the administrative duties yet still found time to pitch-in and help in the field. I've since relieved him of most of that burden and now shoulder the lion's share of the managerial responsibilities.
By now you're asking, "What's all this got to do with Moe; what about your stooge moment?" Alright, alright; I'm gettin' there! I just needed to dig a foundation; anchor the story with a little historical background. I can see now that it'll take at least one more post to tell this tale.
Our company is a small firm and as such, it requires me to wear any number of "hats" from day to day; salesman, estimator, accountant, manager, supervisor to name a few (I'm also a pretty good electrician if I do say so myself). The hat I least like to wear is debt-collector; chasing down delinquent clients is an unpleasant but necessary evil. unless you've owned or managed a business, you may be surprised to learn that there are people; calculating people who will accept goods and services with either no intention to honor the terms of their contract or a tendency to delay timely payments. These people are, in effect using other people's resources for their own gain. We occasionally have such a client and when we do, the situation must be confronted; it's a job that falls to me.
Actually, I'm probably the best suited for this task anyway. I come by it naturally; that inherent trait which makes the hair bristle on the back of my neck when I perceive a threat to my family's well-being. Some of it may have been an acquired attribute as I was the oldest child; a job which occasionally required me to "slay" a neighborhood bully. You know, black eyes, bloody noses, that sort of thing. One time I even tossed a friend of mine headlong into a mud puddle; the penalty for picking on my little brother (the audacity; I alone was allowed to pick on my little brother!) At any rate, over the years I've developed into a man who when provoked, will meet a threat with a fierce disposition.
Now I have a confession: At times that fierceness is not well tempered. Simply put, on occasion I've been a total "Moe Howard". No, I didn't poke my fingers in their eyes, pull out fistfuls of their hair, or put their head in a vise. Yet, my words left them feeling as if I'd doubled them over with a slug to the gut followed by an upper-cut to the nose; left sitting in a daze with little birdies singing around their head.
Such a scene played out a few months ago and I'll get right to it in my next post; look for it in a day or two.

Slapstick

The Three Stooges: Moe, Curly, & Larry


My three oldest boys: Brad, Jeremy, & Ben
(Any resemblance?)

If someone were to conduct a poll to determine who likes or dislikes The Three Stooges, I'm confident it would show a demographic split along gender lines. Of course there are exceptions, but the guys tend to think the Stooges are brilliant comedic relief while the gals think they're stupid (of course they're stupid; that's the point!) I don't know about your family but that trend holds true in mine. My mother, for one, never quite understood the appeal of slapstick humor - particularly when her boys were performing their own version of Moe, Larry, and Curly. You know, as hard as we tried, we never could quite get the timing right and my little brother's head just didn't give the same solid, wooden tone when struck. At any rate, Mom pulled the plug on our antics long before anyone got a concussion or had their eyes poked out. Instead of watching our favorite buffoons on after-school TV, we were told to engage in more civilized activity. Truth be told, we just took our act on the road; walked down the street and let one of our neighborhood pals fill in as Shemp; nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!
As I grew into a young man, my fondness of the Stooges did not abate. As a matter of fact, I and my two closest friends from our church youth group were Stooge fans (hmm, another threesome; how curious). We would often attend a Three Stooges Film Festival; it was held at an old theater in a nearby town a couple of Saturdays each month. You wouldn't believe the array of knuckle-heads that were drawn to those events. Never before had I seen so many guys dressed up as Curly. It was a hoot; even now, I'm chuckling as I write this; such wonderful memories! Sometimes, I wish I could return to those days when I had time for such nonsense. Nevertheless, well into my middle-ages, I'm still a fan. I don't know, I suppose it's therapeutic for guys to sit back in a comfortable chair and watch some other poor fellow turn something simple into a complete catastrophe. Perhaps it gives us a brief escape from some of our own fiascos.
The foundation for the Stooges' brand of comedy is our own fallen nature; their scripts were forged from some of our more base elements such as our tendency to retaliate when provoked. A pie is thrown: "Oh, a wise-guy, eh?" A return volley: Another cream-topped pastry misses its mark striking someone else instead; the mayhem multiplies exponentially until everyone in the room is launching multiple sorties of projectile desserts. What makes this funny is perhaps what separates the men from the women. While the ladies in the audience might be disgusted by the mess and offended by people assaulting each other, the gentlemen secretly long (if they're honest) to engage in a little smash-mouth from time to time; the Bozo who cut him off on the freeway, the unreasonable boss, the guy at work who doesn't pull his own weight...We're combative by nature; much more so than our feminine counterparts.
A few months ago, I had a moment where I engaged in a little smash-mouth and ended up feeling like a complete stooge; a total "Moe Howard" extraordinaire. I'll share it with you in my next post.