Check out this wonderful slide presentation about Islam, provided by Monte Cox, director of Harding’s Center for World Missions.
Archive for March, 2004
Speaking of home . . . the “Today Show” this morning had a travel expert on suggesting that one way to save money is to just take a vacation in your own hometown. He said that he and his family did that. Instead of going to Vermont, they stayed at home: in NYC. So they did simple, hometown things like going to world-class museums, plays, etc.
Do people like him not realize that NOT EVERYONE LIVES IN NYC!
You can’t go home again. So many years ago when I read Thomas Wolfe’s book I had no idea how true it is. Home changes. And you change.
That hit me at the Tulsa workshop as I saw so many people from Neosho and from Searcy.
I’m not really welcome at the church where I grew up. Of course, there is another church that was planted several years ago where my parents attend. We’re welcomed there, and I enjoy speaking when we go home for holidays. And there are still other people at the other church that I care about and hear about. But it’s strange to not be welcome in the church building that was build by my paternal grandfather (a carpenter).
Same with Searcy. After attending Harding University (in Searcy and Memphis) for seven years and after preaching for the College Church for seven more years, I last spoke at Harding in 1991. Of course, there are still lots of friends there. And I have a great appreciation for the good things that are happening there (especially concerning mission teams, both international and domestic urban, that are being formed and sent out–really amazing stuff!). But it’s still strange to have insiders tell me that they’ve been told I can’t speak there. (I’m not alone. Two preacher buddies of mine recently complained to me that they’ve been told the same thing–that they can’t speak there–even though the school recruits heavily at their large churches.)
Part of me wants to scream: “That’s not fair! That’s the church I grew up in. I love the people there. That’s the school I attended. I care deeply about the people there.” But Wolfe was right (in one sense). You can’t go home again.
In some ways, this is a result of decisions I’ve made. Others probably believe some of the same things, but have chosen not to say them publicly. I didn’t have to say those things. I didn’t have to edit Wineskins with Rubel the last dozen years. And undoubtedly I’ve shown lack of wisdom and compassion at times. I’m growing . . . . (Part of maturing in Christ is learning to love and pray for the people who don’t agree with you–from the “left” or the “right.”)
For this I AM thankful: that even though you can’t exactly go home again, there is a part of home you can return to. There are all those loving people in Neosho and in Searcy. There are all those people in both places who molded my life, who blessed me (I blogged recently about some of them at Harding), who encouraged my life. There are all those wonderful things for the way of Christ that have been done and are still being done in both places.
Life is partly about learning to love the homes you’ve left behind, learning to appreciate the home where you are, and longing for the home whose builder and maker is God.
Up early to get ready for a funeral. Rolling around in my mind this insight: “Middle age is when you choose your cereal for the fiber, not the toy.”
I’m trying to remember how long it’s been since I looked to see what toy was in a box of cereal. As a kid, that was the whole deal. Who cares if the cereal would be turned down by a goat — as long as it has an ACTION FIGURE or a COOL STICKER or even a BASEBALL CARD? Who cares if it has the nutritional value of lint?
I think I’ll adopt that as a motto for the rest of the week: Choose cereal for the toy!
All the blogging I can do for now. Need to prepare for the funeral . . . right after downing my Fiber One cereal.
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.”
Almost everything enjoyable eventually comes to an end. Vacations hit a screeching halt, friends and family have to return home (as my mom, dad, and two nieces have to in a few minutes), spring break passes.
Looks fade. Bodies slowly waste away. Children grow up.
But God’s love never ceases. His love is stubborn, persistent, enduring. Nothing in all creation can separate us from it.
O love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee.
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow,
May richer, fuller be.
Back from the Tulsa workshop. I was sitting in the little Eagle jet at DFW at 8:45, waiting to pull away from the jetbridge. I was on the phone to Christopher, who was doing a play-by-play of the Texas game. They told us to turn cell phones off. Problem: we were down one point and there were 15 seconds left. It called for urgent measures. I hid the phone. Good news: somehow the pilots managed to continue to communicate with the tower. Bad news: the Horns got beat.
My brief stay at the Tulsa workshop was great. Great to see family: Mom, Dad, two nieces, two uncles. Lots of old friends from Searcy and Memphis days.
Tomorrow: Midland for soccer.
Off to the Tulsa workshop, where I’ll speak twice tomorrow. Marvin Phillips was kind enough to let me bail out of my Saturday class to get back for a soccer tournament in Midland.
This is also the weekend of THE SHOWER. So my mom and dad and two nieces will be among those who’ll be here for the weekend. They’ll be at Tulsa, too, but then will drive on down.
Am I really old enough to have a son getting married?
Enjoy this paragraph from a chapter by Henri Nouwen entitled “Control Your Own Drawbridge.”
It is important for you to control your own drawbridge. There must be times when you keep your bridge drawn and have the opportunity to be alone or only with those to whom you feel close. Never allow yourself to become public property, where anyone can walk in and out at will. You might think that you are being generous in giving access to anyone who wants to enter or leave, but you will soon find yourself losing your soul.
Baseball has begun. The smell of freshly-oiled gloves. The feel of a new Rawlings baseball. The wheezing of my asthma and the running nose of my allergies at night. The sounds echoing in my mind as I fall asleep: “Coach, can I pitch?” “Coach, how come this practice field doesn’t have a bathroom?” The soreness of middle-aged arms from throwing batting practice or trying to hit too many deep fly balls. It doesn’t get any better than this!!
Chris and I just finished updating our Sports Illustrates NCAA brackets. You’ve got to love it. Down to the Sweet Sixteen and there’s still a 10 ranking (Nevada), a 9 ranking (UAB), an 8 ranking (Alabama), a 7 ranking (Xavier), and a 6 ranking (Vanderbilt).
Also, it’s official. We’re Longhorns fans. Go Texas!