Smashing Grapefruit

"Hey Joe know what? You got it all wrong! My God doesn't let bad things happen to people."

That's because your God doesn't exist.

Ho hum, another day in the world

I've been stranded out here in Marina City all week, since Black Lightning's water pump went bad on Monday. The diesel mechanic called this PM and said she'll be ready tomorrow morning, and for just $460. PLUS no web access.

But earlier in the afternoon, the mini-warehouse folks called to tell me my storage unit had been broken into, and I needed to put on a new lock.

Well, things didn't look too bad at first when I got there. Not until I realized the culprit(s) had crawled all the way to the back, turning over and emptying every box on the floor. Like literally, even including my photography prints and negatives. Yes, yes yes.

They got all my video & film cameras, all the lenses, the works. Everything, all gone.

Much less now to worry about losing or having stolen.

Say that again?

For the first time in our 4-year history, tonight Francis actually raised her voice and scolded my tired, clumsy attempts at humor during a difficult dilemma:

"Joseph, I'm not a nice person. I'm pushing myself."

Wow and like, I'm always the last person to find out.

Silly spotted hyenas

3:23 PM

Funny, isn’t it, how you can surrender to Christ (and I don’t mean merely invite him in for a visit), and then start seeing unexpected changes in your life?

I’m not talking about finding out in certain spots, like there's strict new rules you gotta follow to “make sure” you’re saved so you can win nods of approval from the senior members who’re proud to let new members know, “This is the onliest church I ever been to in my whole entire life, and it’s the best church there ever was.”

Nope, I’m talking about changes in the way you act when Nobody’s Watching to see your sin spots … like when you’re feeling tempted and there’s no “Holy Joe’s” standing around nearby, looking over your shoulder.

I grew up in a church environment where drinking, dancing, and gambling were loudly denounced as the worst sort of sins (adultery might’ve been up there too, but seems like sex-talk was too dirty to ever be discussed in church). Because those sins were easily recognized as “among the worst” then identifying the “worst sinners” among us was easy … because those were exactly the sins they committed.

And everybody knew who they were because the Gossip-and-411 Live Updates were always spotting new sins 24/7x365 … even if Blue Laws kept retail stores closed on Sundays.

How about some of those “Other sins?” Aaah let’s see … I guess technically, uh … hey, where ya’ll going for lunch after the service?

Can’t recall hearing much about anger being a sin, and now that makes me mad.

Since I’m a guy, let’s say another guy does something that has the consequence of “making” me enraged. I feel like lashing out, and feel very fortunate when this other guy, his wife and their kids just happen to come walking by.

What makes the set-up even better is, he’s got no idea at all how upset he’s ‘made” me. So soon as he opens his mouth and grins “Hey dude, whadup?” I pounce like a hyena and catch his neck in my rage-jaws, and use verbal claws to open up his best intentions and show him his insides. He can’t even think of one word to defend himself against that kind of vicious attack, and just stammers while I proceed to break off and tear loose every bit of dignity and self-esteem that’s still holding the poor guy up.

For a minute this guy looks like he might even start crying but he can’t, because all the tears have already found another, lower way to flee and exit what’s left of his body.

His wife and kids must be on my side and see who’s stronger, because they keep staring at him as if wondering why he doesn’t step up, fight back and be a man, unless he’s too scared … but being women and children, they don’t understand that today that ain’t gonna happen because I won’t let it happen.

I’m having too much fun.

When I’m finally full and there’s not a scrap of self-respect left on his spine, I grunt “OK, I hope there’s no hard feelings” (because at least I’m feeling satisfied), smack my lips and slouch away to the nearest hyena-hole for a nice post-dinner nap.

Does ripping that guy apart make me a bad person? Heck no, I’m covered all-over with spots that prove I’m a hyena, and doing what hyenas do is fun (and makes hyenas laugh later about doing it). Besides, scaring grown men and pulling people apart feels so gooood … but then maybe you’d have to be a laughing-hyena to know that in the first place.

What difference does it make to me if this poor guy just got his fragile little daddy-ego sliced into bait chunks right there in front of his kids? Shoot, if he’s any kind of man he’ll spank the daylights out of them when he gets home, and teach ‘em that’s the best way to deal with being mad.

Or if he feels humiliated at having his pants pulled down and getting spanked in front of his wife, it’s only because she’s already wearing the pants around their house, and how they speak to or respect each other in the privacy of their own home is none of this hyena’s business.
- - -
Here’s the thing about the situation I just described: Does it really make any difference whether the guy’s wife and kids were standing there to see the guy get a rabid tongue-lashing? Didn’t it still happen the same way, and doesn’t that same guy walk away still feeling just as bruised, and still just as whipped and battered?

Doesn’t he still carry away the same emotional soreness, and hear the same words over and over again (and probably will for days), after he’s driven home and it’s crunch-time again … when he’s gotta step up and be a husband, father, a man and an example … no matter how he got treated that day at work?

Bullying describes the kind of anger that’s directed at a person who’s unable or unwilling to fight back. Intimidating a weaker person, or self-righteously attacking someone who’s in a more vulnerable situation, or taunting them with sarcasm and circular reasoning (“If you knew that’s not what I wanted then why did you do it?”) for whatever reason can in no way be compared to Christ’s anger when he ejected the money-changers from the temple.

I’ve heard that excuse used a time or twelve too many, and it sounds like all the other flimsy excuses folks conjure to explain why their sin just happens not to be a sin after all.

When their real excuse is it’s because hyenas like doing what hyenas do.

Stuck in the saddle again ...

Here's the kind of quick, tight post most-highly favored by the gnomes over at AVCLUB ...

REM I could stay busy if only I had an iPod
CLR
0001 If truck$ = Broke Then water pump$ = kaput
0010 Fret
0020 Call routine MECHANIC
0030 If sum$ = Tomorrow Then wait
0040 If MECHANIC$ = No then Return
0050 For x= 100 GOTO 0005
0060 If CLOCK$=6:00 PM THEN END
0100 END

In the Arms of the Angels

"Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that will make it okay
There’s always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day

So tired of the straight life
And everywhere you turn
There’s vultures and thieves at your back
Storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack

You were pulled from the wreckage ..."

-Sarah Mclaughlin
In the Arms of the Angels

Real Value Added

8:18 AM

N 34 29.25
W082.59.223

I’ve got two material “things” among my possessions that I value far more than the next say, 10 or 15 “things” on the Most-Important list.

Not gonna say what they are (because it’s unimportant) but let’s describe Item #1 as a very unique “tool.” It’s absolutely not anything essential or something I couldn’t live without; it’s merely frightfully expensive and an affectation I’ve carried since I was a kid, and I was very fortunate to finally find just what I wanted.

At the opposite end of the scale is Item #2. On a good day, I might find someone willing to trade me a can of Diet Coke for this item, but I doubt it. So how does Item #2 end up ranking alongside Item #1?

Because Item #2 is something I could never give to myself: it was a gift I received from the person it who it belonged to and chose to give away. To me.

---

If I ever lost Item #1 (or it was stolen), the insurance company might growl and snarl but eventually they’d end up writing a check. Might take years, but eventually I could probably find something to replace Item #1. So in financial terms at least, there’s no much chance of suffering a loss.

But no amount of money could replace Item #2.

There’s just no replica, substitute or any other “thing” like it. It’s irreplaceable and valuable because it represents the person who gave it to me: it’s not something I could steal or earn for myself. Item #2’s value comes from the importance I’ve attached to my relationship with the person who willingly gifted it to me … and in thinking what gifting this thing to me meant for the person who gave it away.

The only way Item #2 could ever lose its value is if I changed my mind about the person, and felt our relationship was no longer as important as it was.

Item #2’s value might seem entirely symbolic and over-rated, but its importance is still solid in its place alongside Item #1. And Cash is Trash if time ever came to replace it.

---

Uh in case you’re wondering, if I were ever forced to choose between the two which one would I pick? Among all of life’s most difficult decisions, that one would prove to be by far the easiest.

Gosh Joe, frankly I’m not buying it. You’re assigning a lot of value to something that’s practically worthless.

Sure, but writing this now, I realized that even more important than stuff is remembering what it feels like giving it away.

Keep the change?

Look, I'm not on staff at any church nor I am a member of any committee, nobody "clears" The Blue Book first or sends either "suggested post topics" or follow-ups to my In-Box ... so get mad at me if you wanna, 'cause I take 100% responsibility for what you read here. And am trying real hard to stay on the ball, since limited web access means I only got about 8 minutes to write and post this.

I got angry this morning when I heard about our church's new capital campaign. See, leadership feels God is calling the local church where I'm a member to built a new youth facility, a new children's building, and meet certain needs in our community ... all of which is gonna cost some bucks.

Yeah, lots of bucks. So here comes a new campaign. The church needs more money and that's what got me started. $20 million is the figure I wrote down. That's 20,000,000 smackeroos.
----

First I did the math, to try making sense of such HUGE numbers.. Let's say a hypothetical church has 4000 members. $20 million divided by 4000 members = pledges of $5000 bucks apiece. Spread out over 5 years, that's $1000 per person/per year.

Now there's 365 days in a year, so dividing $1000 per year by 365 = $2.74 per day for five years. Is the big picture starting to come into focus a little bit?

I got angry because I caught myself doubting the hearts of people who're being called upon to give.
-----

"Hey now, wait a minute Joe. A new youth building and foreign mission stuff sounds great and everything, but I got bills and things to pay." Then you should pay what you owe ... but stop borrowing money to buy more things you don't need so you can owe even more.

Just think for a minute about whatever "thing" you'd been thinking so lovingly about buying next.
-Thinking about adding-on a swimming pool? A pool is just a big bathtub that stinks like chlorine.
-New shoes (closet's so big you can't find the one you've already got)?
-A 2008-model car?
-A network-capable GPS/radar for the boat? (who, me?)

Shoot, after church today I swung by Bi-Lo to pick up a few things, and realized I spend more than $2.64 every day on stinkin' potato chips and Ramen noodles. Which only made me angrier ... the biggest "financial situation" facing a body of believers ought to be "What are we gonna do with all this money?"

After all, how much did you pay for your salvation ... and how much is one person's soul worth? For believers, who've witnessed the change that happens when Christ comes into your life, is the joy of knowing that God Keeps His Promise worth more than $2.74 per day ... especially when it's used to preach and share the gospel throughout our community? (Folks, we're talking about the richest country on the planet here. Isn't that worth twice the amount ... $5 bucks a day, I mean really).

I'm a simpleton, I am, a guy who's comfortable with the basics and don't like gray areas much, least of all near our checkbooks. And anyway, how much would you have paid for someone else to step up, and take your place in the crucifixion line?

Cause somebody named Jesus Christ already did.

Some friends know

Tonight at the marina cafeteria, M said she knew a girl whose eyes were colored like "Looking into the Sistine Chapel."

Wow!" I gasped, dropping my silverware and napkin to the floor with astonishment. "If I ever looked into a girl's eyes and saw the Sistine Chapel, that's BIG."

Across the table from me, J's eyes caught mine and she said, "That's not big, that's HUGE."

Yeah, sure would.

Flying high?

5:51 AM

Maybe it’s because of the hours I spent boring holes in the sky as a private pilot, but commercial airline catastrophes seem to catch my attention. A significant percentage of aviation accidents are directly attributable to pilot error … everything from taking-off without checking fuel levels, not carrying the “right” charts on board, or trying to land in weather conditions far exceeding the airplane’s (but more often the pilots’) capabilities.

Just after getting my Instrument Rating, back in the days when I was flying several hours per week to keep current, I subscribed to a monthly National Transportation Safety Board newsletter that detailed the investigation results of specific aviation accidents, everything from headline-grabbing jumbo-jet crashes with hundreds of fatalities, down to student pilots who literally stalled and crashed in their own backyards while showing off for a girlfriend.

The reports came directly from NTSB files and included an official, comprehensive overview of background information applicable to determining the likely cause of the accident: forecasts reported before the incident, weather conditions at the time of the incident, when the airplane’s engine was last overhauled or serviced… and even how many hours the pilot(s) had slept the night before and what he/she ate that last time before climbing into the cockpit.

It was those kind of painstakingly personal details that slashed through the anonymity of watching the same news story on TV, and made each pilot’s life seem not so far removed from my own; the otherwise irrelevant finer points like, “After checking the weather forecast, the pilot called his wife and told her he was ‘running late and feeling tired,’ but was ‘very anxious to see her’ and expected to arrive home no later than 11:00 PM.”

Reading the minute-by-minute playback was like stepping back in time and joining the last few minutes of the flight as they occurred: I had little trouble imagining what it was like peering through the same dark windscreen at nine thousand feet on the same moonless night, or feeling the airplane’s controls become sluggish and unresponsive after mistakenly penetrating the storm cell, or being simultaneously awed and terrified by the unexpected proximity and immensity of a lightning bolt searing down just inches ahead of the propeller as it probed for any life or machine it could find between clouds on its short, unsympathetic appointment with earth.

Maybe the NTSB reports’ formal, indifferent tone created the illusion of foresight and control, implying that the reader, now armed with the advantage of hindsight, might somehow step through the timeline, take charge of the situation … and prevent the accident from ever happening in the first place.

But skipping back to re-read that next-to-the-last minute a dozen times couldn’t forestall the inevitable … that gut-wrenching moment when the wail of over-stressed metal pierced over the thunderclaps, the moment when the pilot felt the sickening lurch of the wings’ sad departure from the airframe … and knew this mistake would be the one that followed him to the last second of his life.

- - - - -

The aviation catastrophe I find myself remembering most often is the Concorde crash back in 2000.

I suppose it’s there because the Concorde represented a technological achievement (ferrying passengers across the Atlantic Ocean in just 3 hours) that’s not likely to be repeated … and the substantial cost of a round-trip ticket (about $18,000 by 2000) meant Concorde’s seats were largely reserved for folks with significant wealth at their disposal.

(During take-off that afternoon, the Concorde struck a piece of metal debris left over the runway by the airplane departing ahead of it, which punctured the narrow tires and caused them to overheat and catch fire. Then when the pilot retracted the landing wheels into the gear well, the fire was retracted along with them … and quickly spread inside the fuselage to cause the crash and kill all 100+ passengers and crew on board.)

In its 24-year service history no Concorde had ever crashed, not one life had been lost, but that one event was enough to worry passengers away from super-sonic flight forever, and end the Concorde’s flying life.

It may sound trite, but maybe the reason I keep going back to the Concorde catastrophe is because wealthy as the passengers might have been, no amount of money, jewelry on board, investment in plastic surgery, prestige, political influence or scheduling conflicts could save their lives that day … which led me to wonder how or whether, had the passengers only known a week in advance, they might have changed their priorities and lived the last week of their lives differently.

I’m not pointed fingers at the privileged, ultra-wealthy classes at all … because in the long-term we’re aboard the same flight and one day we’ll all arrive at the same earthly destination (under ground, I mean).

Instead I’ll point the longest finger back at myself, and admit searching for the ground 6 miles beneath me from the window during my most-recent commercial flight, and thinking, “There’s not a thing down there that I’ve saved-up, accumulated or stockpiled away that can do me any good right now … especially if the pilot flying the airplane sees something coming that’s just bound to ruin my day.

"Do not wear yourself out to get rich;
have the wisdom to show restraint.

Cast but a glance at riches, and they are gone,
for they will surely sprout wings
and fly off to the sky like an eagle."
-Proverbs 23:4-5

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
-Matthew 6:19-21

No web= A Good Web

Still no regular internet connection; I gotta scavenge around the parking lot after-hours like a squirrel scratching the pavement for left-over signals.

But here's a quote I heard the other day thought I'd pass along ...

“Men measure success by what they collect, but women measure success according to how they’re treated by men.” - tpw

Love ya'll, I do and really mean it.

Oh ok, NOW I get it

6:22 AM

Ever been talking to somebody about something, then by the time the end of the conversation rolls around, you suddenly realize you’ve been talking about two (or sometimes three) entirely different things?

I’m not naming names, but some people out there (I’m probably one of them) sound like they use Dixie cups for a cell phone (or their service carrier’s one antenna is a set of rabbit ears bolted to the inside of the attic window in a furniture store in downtown Belton).

Doesn’t matter if their new Dufus-berry has all the latest features and can plot GPS coordinates pointing to the nearest gas station from the Antarctic, gets all the satellite sports channels in HDTV, burns DVDs and pops popcorn all at the same time.

Understanding what’s being said between alternating layers of static and dead-silent spots is like trying to communicate with a school of carp whose idea of a breakfast buffet is scouring algae off the bottom of my boat: every two minutes or so there’s suddenly a regurgitating grunt that vaguely resembles a word, but all the syllables in-between just sound like bubbles.

Ok, so what is it about Legalism that implies the word can mean one thing to one group of believers, yet have just about the totally opposite meaning to another? I mean, I’ve never once met a believer who’d argue, “Salvation only comes from following Old Testament law and especially the Ten Commandments.”

What you do hear instead is, “Doing good deeds and following the law isn’t enough because salvation only comes through faith ...“

Fine so far, but then in the next breath come all the But’s, the Real’s and the minutiae of Can’t:

-But a real believer can’t listen to secular (meaning Rock) music
-But a real believer can’t go to R-rated movies
-But a real believer can’t have tattoos, earrings or piercings
-But a real believer can’t wear jeans or tennis shoes to church
-But a real believer only reads the King James translation
-But a real believer can’t be a member of a circus like that so-called church

Gee, what just happened? How’d all those new rules get magically slipped into the playbook? Well just wait, because rules are like flies swarming atop fresh road-kill, and the more the merrier:

-But a real believer can’t touch alcohol
-But a real believer can’t dance (I never could anyway, so there)
-But a real believer can’t go to a movie on Sunday
-But a real believer can’t wear a two-piece bathing suit
-But a real believer can’t associate with sinners
-But a real believer can’t vote a certain way in political elections
-But real believers can’t clap in church

Oops, then we reach a point where the flies get so thick, you can’t even see what first caught their attention:

-But a real believer can't be divorced and become involved in ministry (ouch)
-But a real believer protests adult bookstores and takes pictures of any one going inside
-But a real believer can’t allow unwed mothers (or their kids) into church
-But a real believer can’t permit people of another race to visit their worship service
-But a real believer has an obligation to tell believers belonging to different denominations that they’re going straight to Hell

Shoot. Thinking up new rules to showcase my own self-righteousness (and keep other folks toeing the line) is so much fun I can’t stop.

-But a real church has a steeple, a baptistery depicting the River Jordan and stained glass windows
-But a real church can’t allow drums, electric guitars or video screens in the service
-But a real church has Sunday School, Easter cantatas and Wednesday night prayer meetings. And holds bake sales and car washes to finance their youth ministry
-But a real church can’t try to reach or witness to sinners by making their services creative, relevant or applicable
-But a real church can’t keep growing, and stays small enough where a pastor knows all the members by their first names, visits their sick pets in the animal hospital and sends everybody a personally-signed card on their birthday

Sounds like lots of spare Gotchas keep falling in the bottom of the spiritual parts kit, until finally the only tool churches have left is one big Can’t … which might explain why nothing ever gets done (I won’t even mention that the best way to fix loose nuts or stop squeaking gears is with a tight-fitting wrench that’s got a big handle).

Modern-day legalists might outwardly reject Legalism, without once recognizing that man-made traditions, rituals, “being religious” and “living by the rules” are still the same Pharisaical snare, a powerful web of conditions and guess-work that, once fallen into, traps us in place and prevents us from totally surrendering to Christ and knowing the freedom and joy of following him … not man-made rules and regulations.

Legalism is a maze with no exit, a directionless path leading us away from thanking God for his mercy, and toward forgetting that Christ’s sacrifice truly means Your Grace is enough for me.

Downtime & "What Am I Expecting from the World?"

No regular web access right now; something happened to my connection yesterday & no idea when it'll be back. Anyway, this morning I penned this post in Word.

So what am I expecting from the world?

“Oh yeah I got goals, because I know what’s important.”

What are your Life Priorities?
-great job earning big bucks
-an awesome house (pool, game room)
-drive a new car (every year, hopefully)
-exotic trips & vacations whenever
-retiring early
-vacation house (beach or mountains)
-generally, buying anything I want
-achievement
-financial success
-being happy

What three words best describe you?
Intelligent, ambitious, motivated

What one word best describes your future?
Successful

Now let’s forget about the world, and see what we got:

What Are Your Your Life Priorities?
-pleasing & satisfying myself first, in every possible way

What three words best describe you?
Doesn’t get it

What one word best describes your future?
Futile.

One if by land, two if by sea

Meet the Gibbs Aquada, a "a revolutionary showcase of High Speed Amphibian (HSA) technology."

Sure it's a 100-mph car, but the Aquada is capable of so much more ... like 30-mph top speeds on the water ... and driving billionaire Richard Branson across the English Channel. Or towing skiers.

"Entry to the water is via beach, boat ramp, slipway or directly from the water's edge. Once afloat, the transition from road vehicle to High Speed Amphibian (HSA) is effortlessly achieved."

"Powerful enough to tow a water-skier and with a style and class of its own, the Gibbs Aquada is the perfect leisure vehicle. The Aquada is the new name for freedom!"

All this freedom ... for only $100,000 US

Live according to what?

This is one of those posts I've had on my mind for months, without being sure I could write the words I meant. After this morning, the picture came into sharper focus.

I've read more accounts than I can remember of folks in Africa suffering horrific, unimaginable deaths ... men being tusked and stomped into postage stamp-sized pieces by elephants, hunters ripped apart by lions and unsuspecting villagers seized and dragged away as underwater take-out orders by crocodiles.

I'm not intentionally searching for such gruesomeness, or finding these lurid stories in the worm-eaten journals of early 18th century explorers; I'm talking about accounts of people being killed or eaten alive in events still happening to this day.

But no matter how many stories you read I don't think there's any way to know exactly what it feels like to be rinsing the soap outta yours ears in the neighborhood stream and then notice the person standing beside you is suddenly wearing a smashing new crocodile belt ... only this item's one-size-fits-all and has big sharp teeth for a buckle.

Reading about a life-changing event just ain't the same as seeing it happen firsthand ... and experiencing what it's like for yourself.
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Atheists are a puzzling bunch of people, especially when they seek to attack Christ. Some would like to claim Jesus never existed at all, but was merely a myth, a fairy tale like King Arthur, passed down from oral tradition at the beginning and then embellished in written accounts through generations of creative scribes and disingenuous authors.

But even if Jesus did exist, they argue, his life doesn't matter anyway because the accounts of his death, burial and resurrection are nothing more than fictions created to conceal “what really happened”:

(a) Christ merely passed out on the cross and was buried, then the cool damp air inside the tomb miraculously revived him, or
(b) The beatings, floggings and side-spearing never happened, because if they had, Christ would have been in such a terrible state that no amount of damp air could help him, or
(c) Christ actually did die on the cross, but the disciples forgot where he was buried and mistakenly assumed he’d been resurrected when they found an empty tomb, a simple error of geography that caused a troublesome centuries-long misunderstanding; but then “probably what really happened” was:
(d) The disciples stealthily moved the 5-ton stone, stole Christ's body from under the sleeping Romans' noses and, being eager to be persecuted and die as penniless martyrs, thought it'd be a good idea to cook up a tale of his resurrection and ascension into heaven to add credibility to their claims.

Seems like skeptics would study the topic more closely first, determine which hypothesis seemed most plausible and complete to suit their purpose, and then stuck with that one explanation before they started dismissing the resurrection.

And I think they would, too ... if only they could find one that was thoroughly plausible and absolutely complete.
-----

Not even James Cameron could find Christ's body (and thus missed his opportunity to be immortalized in Hollywood as The Man Who Ruined the Resurrection), but I’m sure skeptics would settle for finding a new "Secret Lost Gospel of Bob the Centurion" buried in a jelly jar under Pilate’s shoe closet that repudiated all four gospel accounts of Christ's arrest, trial, crucifixion and resurrection.

Shoot, they'd settle for finding a piece of gum with an Aramaic yodh scribbled on one side if they thought they could chew it long enough to prove Christ changed his mind when confronted by his accusers, or in any way ever denied being who he claimed to be.

But Christ really was who he said he was, and no account will ever be found that says Christ:

(1) Saw the swords and torches heading his way up the Mount of Olives that night, said "See ya" to his disciples and then ran off into the hills fast as his legs could carry him
(2) Backed down or reversed himself when challenged by his accusers
(3) Offered to negotiate a plea-deal to spare his life
(4) Agreed with the Pharisees that living by the law was sufficient, in exchange for a lighter sentence
(5) Showed the Sanhedrin how he'd done the magic tricks behind the "Feed the 5000" and "Waiter, we need more wine" illusions
(6) Argued with Pilate, "Man I don't know what you heard so far, but those people out there got it all wrong"
(7) Renounced the gospel, admitted he was a liar or complained "Wow, what was I thinking about?" as the nails were being driven into his hands and feet

What a heyday the Romans and the Pharisees coulda had if even one of those things had been true and a witness coulda been presented to prove it. And certainly enough time elapsed before the first written gospel accounts were widely circulated that the Romans coulda just made one up, like the Sanhedrin did with false witnesses, to nip this irritating new Christianity in the bud.

But they didn't because they couldn't: too many eye-witnesses were still alive who'd been physically present at Christ's trial and crucifixion who could dispute any false accounts that contradicted what they'd seen with their own two eyes.

That leaves modern-day atheists and skeptics with nothing to support their claims but intrigue and fanciful possibilities ... theories far more difficult to substantiate than the historical gospels they attempt to dispute.
-----

Church tradition holds that all 11 of Christ's disciples died martyr's deaths (the 12th being Judas Iscariot). Why would men willingly choose to die prolonged agonizing deaths for no purpose, rather than renounce the lie of their own creation? Wouldn't it just have been easier to say, "Hey dude with the flails, take a time-out and check Peter's basement ... we hid the body in there"?

The disciples couldn't deny the resurrection because they'd seen Jesus alive with their own eyes, and knew without any doubt Christ's message was real … and so they spent the rest of their lives doing exactly as he commanded. Even though sharing the gospel ultimately cost all of them their lives.

Sure, Peter denied him three times while Christ was being questioned; it's just that I can't find an account anywhere of any of the 11 disciples denying Christ after his resurrection. Wonder if Christ expects less from us today ... because we weren't physically there to see it?

No, just because we weren't there 2000 years ago, I don't think that he does.

-----

This morning I wondered what it would be like to be in a church somewhere if a bound man was brought out during the message to stand beside the pastor, who then explained to the congregation that to better understand what really happened to Christ, the man standing before them would receive 20 lashes with a cat-o-nine tails. Right before their eyes, to demonstrate one part of what Christ's suffering had been like.

Yep that sounds weird, and I'll bet the auditorium doors would be choked with folks running over each other in horror and fleeing with disgust to get away, no matter how calmly the pastor tried to assure them, "It's perfectly OK, because this man agreed to let it take place so that we could all see."

Doubt that'd make much difference to the congregation, because most people couldn't sit still and watch the event unfold. But assuming they had no choice but to see it happen, I’m convinced that afterwards not one of them would ever deny what they’d witnessed … because they’d been there and seen it with their own two eyes.

Being an eye witness to the living, resurrected Christ permanently changed the disciples’ lives. His resurrection proved Christ was who he said he was, that he alone had died in our place, conquered the grave and rose again to save us from our sins. And that when he said “I am the way, the truth and the life,” brother he meant every word.

So as believers, are we living every day according to the things in the gospels we happen to agree with, or according to the idea that faith means God is a spiritual slot machine about to pay off if we’ll just be patient long enough, or maybe because we believe he’s our heavenly bipolar uncle willing to reward us and give us exactly what we want … so long as we say exactly the right words or recite the appropriate chants … and catch him in the right mood?

Or are we living like the disciples, according to what we’ve seen and witnessed instead?

This isn't Big

This is Huge:

"A women's heart should be so hidden in Christ that a man must be seeking the Lord to find it."
-Elisabeth Elliot

(discovered among a Facebook friend's quotes.)

Too busy to go?

Wow, it's finally Labor Day weekend! Time for one awesome BLOW-OUT before Summer '07 is history. Last chance to have fun, party-down and relax with a four-day weekend ....

Seem hard to get up & motivated for church this morning, especially when the lake, a neighbor's bar-b-q or a huge summer sale are already competing for your undivided attention? Or maybe you're already too tired and fatigued from last night's "relaxations"?

Vernon is one of my missionary friends in TZ; I read this post earlier today on his blog ...

"My good friend Sandy Baird was invited to go [to Pakistan] to preach and speak at a seminar and several evangelistic meetings. Sandy invited me, and away we went together on August 16-20.

We met Pakistani Christians who love the Lord, but who live under constant surveillance and persecution.We were met at the Pakistan/Kashmir border by a truck of armed guards who escorted us to the church.

While we were present at the church and parsonage for the next three days, there were 6 armed police 24/7 guarding the church property because of our presence. The attendee's were 6 pastors and 40 or more church members and leaders. That evening, they began preparing for the evangelistic meeting. Everyone who came in to the compound, including us, were patted down (searched) by the police to add to the security.

In a nutshell, an amazing program of music was presented, over 600 people attended [emphasis added]. I had the privilege to preach while Bro. Aslam (Sampson's father) translated. Praise the Lord that 50 people [emphasis added] accepted Christ that night! Sandy and I shared preaching teaching responsibilities for the next two days. The seminars and the above scenario was repeated two more times! 50 saved the first time, 20 saved, 44 saved. Wow!

Interesting information and memories:

1. Most Christians cannot get good jobs because of their faith.

2. One man came to us and asked us to help deport his nephew and his wife because the nephews wife was Muslim, but she got saved. Now her family is threatening to kill her and the husband. In Pakistan, this would be "ok" to kill a convert.

3. Pastor Sampson was hassled by intelligence officers basically everyday asking about Sandy and me.

4. One picture Sandy took was of a man praying at the front of the pulpit area, and an armed guard with a machine gun standing behind watching the events.

5. We were escorted by police every time we left the compound.
   

I am a changed man. Why? I was so challenged by these Christians who really know what it means to sacrifice for Christ.

Their lives are living sacrifices everyday. I will be praying with them and for them...and, by God's grace will not take for granted the freedom we have to worship in America, and, here in Tanzania where I serve. I returned home safe and sound yesterday (Tuesday) at about 2 pm. I'm tired, but energized spiritually."

---Do numbers really matter? Of the 70 million Christians murdered in the past 2000 years for professing their faith, 65.5% (that's 45.15 million) were killed in the 20th century. -source

Some weeks seem better than other weeks

But every second starts here.

Thanks ya'll ...

DJ's Engaged!

More photos here via Facebook.

Can you keep a BIG secret?

-more later. Maybe. It's outta my hands and it depends.


Hint: I was probably the last person on earth to expect things would turn out this way & happen so quickly ...