The Meal
One thing that has continuously impressed me is the overwhelming hospitality of people of Chinese descent, both here in the US and in Asia. The following, from January of 2006, is an example of that hospitality.Yesterday was Saturday. I made the hour drive from southwest Houston to Spring, Texas for an evening with friends. A year ago, I began studying the Bible with a Chinese gentleman in our congregation's FriendSpeak program. FriendSpeak offers lessons in conversational English through a study of the Gospel of Luke, formatted in an easy to read version. My student, Bin, has proficient English skills so we studied directly from the New Testament. Bin is employed by a Taiwanese subsidiary of Hewlett-Packard and is working on his doctoral dissertation in electrical engineering at the University of Houston. Last summer, he moved from the neighborhood where our church building is located to Spring, along with his wonderful wife, Joan, and their full of life four-and-one-half year old son. On Thursday, Bin called and asked if I would join them for dinner. I was delighted. The five hours we spent together flew by. In many ways, they are typical of many young families. Bin's job is long and he has work-related conference calls on most nights. Joan, a high school Chinese Literature teacher in her native land, is enrolled in college courses in hopes of becoming a nurse. Their little boy, as energetic as you will find, is in pre-kindergarten and can count to one thousand. Bin and Joan spent several hours preparing a traditional Chinese meal. Feast would be a more accurate term! Flounder, shrimp, cooked peanuts, three vegetable dishes, a chive casserole, dumplings, and rice were topped off by sesame cookies, apples and oranges. I was stuffed! (Like many children who are from one culture and growing up in the United States, their child is as much American as Chinese. I asked if he liked rice and the answer was an emphatic "NO!" When I inquired as to his favorite food, the reply was an enthusiastic, "HOT DOGS!") It was as gracious a meal as I have ever been blessed to enjoy! Bin and Joan opened their home and treated me as royalty. Meals have a way of bridging cultural and language barriers and in the process, cementing friendships.
Today is Sunday. I shared a different meal today with my Chinese brothers and sisters in our congregation. My role in our Chinese worship is to preside over the Lord's Supper and offer (hopefully) a few appropriate, thought provoking remarks. We do this every week to remember the sacrifice of our Savior, Jesus Christ, on the cross. This menu is simple, unleavened bread and grape juice, but its meaning is profound. Holidays and celebrations throughout human history have centered around common meals and the Christian does the same. Words in various dialects may be spoken around this table but there is one common language- LOVE. Jesus was condemned by religious leaders of his day for eating with sinners. Eating together implies equality. Many of the civil rights struggles were over the integration of eating establishments. Sitting down and eating with another is fellowship; fellowship is brotherhood. Those I shared communion with today are fellow brothers and sisters- and fellow sinners. Yesterday, I accepted Bin and Joan's invitation to dine. Today, we accepted the invitation of the most gracious host of all, Jesus Christ.
Applicable quote of the day:
"Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly."M.F.K. FisherGod bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
The Survey Says
Coaching girls' basketball, both as a high school coach and on the middle school level, has given me a different perspective on the fairer gender. Here is an example, from October 9, 2007.I called my five eighth graders out of basketball practice this morning and gave them an assignment. Spreading them out over a cafeteria table, I handed each a list of the twelve girls who will suit up for games this season. They were instructed to rank each player except themselves. Each of their teammates was to be given a rating from 1 to 11, with 1 being the strongest player and 11 being the girl with the most need of improvement. My student assistant, Sonja, and I did the same. During my free period, I added up the scores and divided by the number of rankings. The best/lowest score was 1.2 and the highest average was 9.9. Sonja and I felt the kids were accurate in their evaluations of each other. The votes were anonymous and I told the eighth graders not to discuss their scale. The girls will never know the compiled numbers; it was simply a way for the coaches to gauge the impressions of the players who sometimes see things we don't and sometimes are oblivious to the obvious.Later in the day, I talked to the girls about their responses and told them I thought they did a good job in assessing each other. Then I asked another question: If they had to sign their evaluation and we posted it in the locker room, would their rankings have changed? Universally, the girls agreed they would have. They would have graded each other higher and the younger girls lower. I appreciated their honesty. I feel the same way. I despise evaluating other people, especially if they know what my assessment is. I tend to hedge on the high side and shy away from criticism. Maybe I should clarify that a bit. I don't mind assessing kids- that's my job. It becomes uncomfortable for me when the subject is a peer, another adult. Maybe that is why I have no aspirations of ever becoming a school administrator. Some of my students mistakenly believe the Bible condemns any form of judging but that isn't accurate. We have to make judgments between good and evil constantly and the vessels of the good and evil are our fellow human beings. Jesus warned that we would be judged in the same we judge. In his "blessed are the merciful'' beatitude, the Lord gave us the perfect attitude of evaluating but he did not teach us to be blind. We often say what we think others want to hear instead of the truth. I asked one of our sixth grade players this morning if she understood what the older kids just demonstrated and she told me she did. I pressed her on it and she confessed that she had no clue. She did not want me to be mad at her- I wasn't- so she fudged on her answer. Maybe we fudge publicly while we hit the target with our private diagnoses. It can be a tightrope. I manage to fall off it frequently. The Lord spends considerable time being my safety net.Applicable quote of the day:"How easy it is to judge rightly after one sees what evil comes from judging wrongly!"Elizabeth GaskellGod bless,SteveLuke 18:1
Father And Son
Above, clockwise: Dad, Dave, me, Scott
Rereading this entry from January 3, 2014 makes me miss Dad all over. I guess that will never go away.
http://youtu.be/E-DsYmxznWA(To hear Cat Stevens' classic Father And Son, please click above!)We are still on Christmas break and it was not a lifting day for me so I worked in two trips to the pool this first Friday of 2014. The place was crowded this morning and I was blessed to find an available lane from the six. You have to time it just right because the pool at my fitness club has only one shower in the men's locker room and I prefer a little privacy....... and my timing was perfect this A.M. Sandwiched in around a number of errands several hours ago was my second water workout of the day. I have a confession to make; I left the pool this afternoon with a sense of sadness. It wasn't because the water was too cold (although a few degrees warmer would not make me mad!) or there were too many other swimmers to enjoy my exercise. It had to do with the other two occupants.As I walked up to the water to put my bag down on a bench, I said hello to a man in the pool. I asked about the water temp and we chatted for about thirty seconds before I jumped in. He was not alone. With him was his son who I estimated to be about seven. Let me tell you how I work out in the pool. I swim a length and then run back to the other end. It isn't easy- many athletes rehab injuries doing just that. But having my head out of the water let me witness the interaction between the two generations. Ten minutes after I began, the dad was ready to go and he got out of the water. He called to his boy, "Let's go!" The son ignored him. The father waited a minute or two and repeated himself. Again, his son acted as if his dad were invisible. It happened again...and again... and again... for at least ten minutes. The father was obviously frustrated and maybe embarrassed that I could see what was happening. Finally, the boy tired of the game and got out. I could not tell who was more relieved, me or his father. Probably me- it looks like the dad is used to it.
Reflecting on the protracted scene, I decided I felt sorry for both of them. I feel sorry for the boy because if he doesn't learn obedience, he's facing a life of conflict because others in positions of authority won't be as benevolent as your own flesh and blood. And I feel sorry for the father because he seemed powerless to make a child, his child, behave and obey the simplest command. Let me say I never assume I know how to raise children because I don't- the Lord has never given me that blessing. I have all the admiration in the world for all of you moms and dads- what a responsibility! I also admire this father for taking time with his son. He interacted well with him in the water and it's obvious he loves him. Maybe it's a custody case and he is limited in access to his own offspring. I don't know any background of the family. Still, I left with sadness because I remembered my dad. My folks set boundaries from infancy and we became comfortable with authority; in teachers, coaches, bosses, etc. I could not have blatantly disobeyed my father (or mother)- it just never would have occurred to me. So tonight, I pray for that dad and other dads and moms that they love their children enough to discipline them, no matter how difficult the circumstances may be. And Dad? Thanks.
Applicable quote of the day:
“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”
Umberto Eco,
Foucault's Pendulum
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
One of the highlights of our family reunion which traditionally happened on the 4th of July holidays every odd numbered year was fishing in the same farm pond my mother probably fished in as a little girl. Most of my time on the shore tended to be spent with my Uncle Jack and two of my younger cousins, Emma and Walker. There is so much you can learn from fishing, like patience and learning to do things which make you squeamish. (Think worms.) The following, from March 27, 2006 is one of the best fish stories I have ever heard.
When I was in college and for the first six years of my teaching career, I fished constantly. It was never something I excelled at but it was outdoors and I always fished with friends. A class I sponsored at Georgia Christian School bought me a VERY expensive rod and reel. The reel was an Ambassadeur, complicated for the non-proficient angler. It was the equivalent of giving a Ferrari to a sixteen year old boy. I spent more time untangling the line than I did fishing! It's been years since I fished, not counting family reunions where the purpose is being together while letting the little ones have fun. My attention was captured by a fishing story last week. It centered on a world record bass caught in California. On March 2o, Mac Weakley pulled in a bass in Dixon Lake that weighed in at a whopping 25.1 pounds. (The heaviest bass on record was netted in Georgia seventy-four years ago, tipping the scale at 22 1/4 pounds.) Weakley had witnesses, weighed the bass on land (as rules stipulate), and had video/pictures taken of himself and his monster haul. Sounds like Weakley has a cut-and-dried record, doesn't it? Not so fast! Some are not quite as quick to crown Weakley's bass as the Greatest Ever. To begin with, some believe a bass could never attain a size of 25 pounds. Another problem focuses on the scale used to weigh the catch: it was not certified. Lastly, Weakley released the bass back into the 70 acre body of water. Taken as a group, these points make some suspicious of this effort which would shatter a record considered as untouchable as Joe DiMaggio's fifty-six game hitting streak in baseball. Will Mac Weakley and his fish be sanctioned by the International Game Fish Association? The jury is out but it's believed had Weakley kept the fish and it met the necessary criterion, it would have meant a million dollar payday for the California fisherman.
We've been discussing the miracles of Jesus in my sophomore Bible classes. The Gospel accounts don't sugarcoat the fact that not everyone in the first century was convinced of the validity of these signs. Sometimes the evidence was denied- a blind man who was healed only looked the same man. Sometimes alternative explanations were given- Jesus was driving out demons by the power of Satan. Sometimes miracles were treated with contempt- healing on the Sabbath could not please God! There was no guarantee that witnessing a miracle produced belief in the one who performed it. It seems incredulous that someone could watch the dead being raised, the lepers being cleansed, the lame walking, the deaf hearing, etc and not fall down in worship but many today read those accounts and aren't touched. It comes down to faith. The fish story is a poor illustration but it's the best I have. Some will never believe the world record bass report and some will accept the feat with zero skepticism. I take no stance: my faith is not in fish!
"Jesus did many other miraculous signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, and that by believing you may have life in his name."
John 20:30, 31
Applicable quote of the day:
"If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there would be a shortage of fishing poles."
Doug Larson
* photo is world famous fisherman, Bill Dance*
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
Phone Home
Mission trips create some interesting communication dilemmas. I wrote the following in August of 2007. Dad had just suffered a stroke and we were trying to stay in touch with my brother, Dave, who was in Africa with his lovely wife, Sally, on a mission trip. I do now have a cell phone!
I just got off the phone talking with Dave. That is probably incorrect. Somehow, we were cut off. It was a little unnerving when he spoke of it being nighttime when it's early afternoon in St. Louis but in Johannesburg, where the call originated, it's almost 10:00 PM. It was incredible- Dave sounded like he was in the next room! It has been an interesting day. I talked to Sheila in Nebraska and Sandy in Arizona. My aunt and uncle phoned from Arkansas. I swapped messages on the Internet with my co-workers at school in Houston. I even exchanged e-mails with a lady in Shanghai, China. Communication in the twenty-first century is so instantaneous. With all the advancements in just the past few years, I can't imagine anymore how people used to deal with critical issues that required input from many. Cell phones and computers let us connect in a moment instead of a month. Can it get any more convenient? Like all technology, it has to.
I still don't have a cell phone and have no plans to obtain one. Based on a show of hands the first day of school, more than ninety percent of my students carry one. I could have one but I have lots of excuses. Cost. I don't want to be burdened with losing it. I don't want to be bothered constantly. It's available: I just choose not to avail myself of the option. It's kind of like prayer. There is a great deal available, just like the phone companies dangle in front of us. There are no dropped calls and you never need upgrades. You never get hung up on and the line is never busy or out of service. It even has a friends and family option. Just dial Our Father. He's standing by.
Applicable quote of the day:
"Have you ever felt like a phone call that's been disconnected?"
Shannen Doherty
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
Mission trips create some interesting communication dilemmas. I wrote the following in August of 2007. Dad had just suffered a stroke and we were trying to stay in touch with my brother, Dave, who was in Africa with his lovely wife, Sally, on a mission trip. I do now have a cell phone!
I just got off the phone talking with Dave. That is probably incorrect. Somehow, we were cut off. It was a little unnerving when he spoke of it being nighttime when it's early afternoon in St. Louis but in Johannesburg, where the call originated, it's almost 10:00 PM. It was incredible- Dave sounded like he was in the next room! It has been an interesting day. I talked to Sheila in Nebraska and Sandy in Arizona. My aunt and uncle phoned from Arkansas. I swapped messages on the Internet with my co-workers at school in Houston. I even exchanged e-mails with a lady in Shanghai, China. Communication in the twenty-first century is so instantaneous. With all the advancements in just the past few years, I can't imagine anymore how people used to deal with critical issues that required input from many. Cell phones and computers let us connect in a moment instead of a month. Can it get any more convenient? Like all technology, it has to.
I still don't have a cell phone and have no plans to obtain one. Based on a show of hands the first day of school, more than ninety percent of my students carry one. I could have one but I have lots of excuses. Cost. I don't want to be burdened with losing it. I don't want to be bothered constantly. It's available: I just choose not to avail myself of the option. It's kind of like prayer. There is a great deal available, just like the phone companies dangle in front of us. There are no dropped calls and you never need upgrades. You never get hung up on and the line is never busy or out of service. It even has a friends and family option. Just dial Our Father. He's standing by.
Applicable quote of the day:
"Have you ever felt like a phone call that's been disconnected?"
Shannen Doherty
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
My brother, Scott, loves guacamole and makes a mean recipe! Ironically, avocados make me nauseous but like my brother, I like the dish pictured above. It is at the heart of the following entry from January 15, 2009. (PS: The author is now married!!!! But sadly, not to the guy in the story!)
Last spring as I prepared to go on mission trips to China and Honduras, I asked for volunteers from our school family to write for me in my absence. Several teachers accepted the challenge. Another accepted but wanted to make sure her work was perfected. These insights are from one of our faculty members who is using the pseudonym, Anonymous. I bet you like it!
As January rolls around, I’m always reminded of people who make New Year’s Resolutions. I personally am totally opposed to resolutions; however, I love to view this month as the month of second chances. I love starting over. Having a clean slate, everything from the past year is erased with new opportunities for change. “This year I’ll make the little things count.” “This year I’ll spend more time with my family and friends.” “This year I’ll spend more time in the word.” We all have things we wish we were better at doing, more disciplined with in our lives. An old friend of mine recently moved back in to town; Coach Hawley refers to him as the Guacamole Guy. In talking to Coach Hawley, it has become apparent that Guacamole Guy is trying to win his way back in… trying for a second chance. Coach Hawley always asks me if I’ve given in yet or if I will break down and give GG another go. Maybe I will- I think people deserve second chances. After all, isn’t our God the God of second chances? Didn’t he wipe our slate clean? Didn’t He allow the bottom of society to do amazing things for Him? I’m considering making this the year of second chances, forgiving without being asked, and wiping the slate clean for others in hopes that they will wipe the slate clean for me. Don’t we all need second chances?
Colossians 3:13
Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
Washed In The Blood
During the past week or so, I've cleaned out my Honda Fit in preparation for basketball season. You see, my middle school girls' team carpools and I wanted it to be nice for the kids riding with me. This is about the newness of that car wearing off...and my own sin. It is from April 25, 2010.
I told you early in April that I was the proud owner of a new Honda Fit. The dispersing of the money from our parents' will allowed me for the first and maybe only time in my life to purchase a new vehicle with no interest. Lord willing, I'll enjoy it for the next ten-twelve years without thinking about car payments. My sister-in-law, Karen, gave me several car air fresheners in my Christmas stocking but my teacher aides (Hanna and Chelsey) say I shouldn't use them because my Honda still has the new smell. I hope that lasts awhile.
I owned my Toyota Corolla for almost seven years but it was three years old when I bought it. After a month or so, I never washed it- you can't see dirt on beige colored cars anyway. This time, I determined to spend time keeping my car clean, inside and out. I went to Wal-Mart and picked up some Armor All cleaning products along with a special washing sponge and a special micro fiber drying towel. I even googled the best way to wash a new car; never when the car is hot, always out of the sun, start at the top, no ammonia on tinted windows, never let it air dry, etc. And so, yesterday morning, I gave my Honda its first bath and I think I did a pretty good job.
Well, I thought I did a good job until I saw it out in the sun later in the day. There were places I missed and even with the Armor All window cleaning wipes, I saw streaks and water spots. My new car doesn't look brand new any more, even though I'm doing my best. This is the bad thing: I have to admit that it bothers me. All those little imperfections are drawing my attention even though I am trying to ignore them. It was so perfect on the lot of Russell and Smith Honda just twenty-two days ago. Now, its flaws are evident and I'm distracted.
When I look at myself in the mirror, I see my Honda all over again. I'm not referencing the physical mirror but the spiritual glass. Every little sin and flaw jumps out at me. Every careless word and deliberate thought better left unthought rears their ugly heads. I want the newness I felt as a newborn Christian. I recall the line from the hymn we sang when I was a kid, O For A Closer Walk With God:Where is the blessedness I knew, when first I saw the Lord?Where is the soul refreshing view of Jesus and His word?But we don't stay newborns forever, just like all new cars become used cars as soon as you drive them off the lot. Even though I struggle with sin and my disappointment with myself, I know there is hope. First John 1:7 tells us that, ''If we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another and the blood of Jesus, His Son, purifies us from all sin.'' (NIV) The Lord sees me like I saw that Honda the first time, new and perfect and unmarked. Scholars tell us that action of purification in 1 John is ongoing and continual, or as I've heard it, like windshield wipers. The grime and scars of this world won't stick to me because their constantly being washed away by the blood of Jesus. So, I'll never have to check the Kelly Blue Book value of my soul, in spite of my own at times self loathing: I know the price that was paid for me is still valid. I'll be new until the day I die.
Applicable quote of the day:
''There is a spiritual hunger in the world today- and it cannot be satisfied by better cars on longer credit terms.''Adlai Stevenson
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
