Renaissance Bible Church

For the Beat-Up and Burnt-Out

2008-09-24T09:02:00.009-05:00

We're in a series called "What Fuels You?" about the greatest message ever preached, the Sermon on the Mount.

I'm reading for the first time a book I should have read about 20 years ago - The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. He was a former Roman Catholic priest and alcoholic who encountered the "furious love of God." If you, like me, happened to grow up in a church who told you what movies not to see and what music you couldn't listen to, at some point you burned all your "secular" CD's. You then turned to the newly-birthed 80's Christian rock scene. It had a cheese factor of limburger, but you didn't care - it's the same reason Chuckie Cheese's pizza tastes delicious if you haven't eaten in 3 days. One of the artists who I heard over and over again was Rich Mullins. While I wasn't a huge fan of his music, I liked the name of his band: the "Ragamuffin Band." It came out of this book. Ragamuffin means, a "shabbily clothed child." Sounds like a word Dickens would coin. Brennan Manning uses it to mean that the gospel is for the bedraggled, beat up, and burnt-out.

Brennan says his book is not for, "the super-spiritual...muscular Christians...Allelulia Christians who live only on the mountaintop and have never visited the valley of desolation..." It's for the "wobbly and weak-kneed who know they don't have it together...inconsistent, unsteady disciples...stupid and honest disciples who admit they are scalawags."

As we learned this past week about being poor in spirit, in order to experience the riches of God, we must first admit our spiritual poverty. People who are poor in spirit are rich in humility. While I wish I could quote the whole book to you, I will pass along a prayer from the end of a chapter:

Lord Jesus, we are silly sheep who have dared to stand before You and try to bribe You with our preposterous portfolios. Suddenly we have come to our senses. We are sorry and ask You to forgive us. Give us the grace to admit we are ragamuffins, to embrace our brokenness, to celebrate Your mercy when we are at our weakest, to rely on Your mercy no matter what we may do. Dear Jesus, gift us to stop grandstanding and trying to get attention, to do the truth quietly without display, to let the dishonesties in our lives fade away, to accept our limitations, to cling to the gospel of grace, and to delight in your love. Amen.

Blessed are the ragamuffins (poor in spirit), for they shall inherit the kingdom of heaven.

Dominoes Are Meant to Be Knocked Over

2008-09-10T15:41:00.007-05:00

Some records are made to be broken. Except the one Don Gorske set. He just ate his 23,000th Big Mac today. That's a lot of special sauce. But every year people from around the world in an effort to get in that Guinness book pick up a jump rope, slam some hot dogs and set up dominoes. Jumping rope bores me and I like hot dogs in moderation, but those dominoes are cool.

4,079,381

That's the world record. A game show in the Netherlands pulled it off. I just feel bad for the guy on staff who got the memo:

1. Clean bathrooms on the 3rd floor
2. Change bulbs in conference room
3. Set up 4 million dominoes for world record attempt

I couldn't find the you tube video about those who set up each individual domino. Guess they figured it wouldn't get much airtime. Apparently it took hundreds of volunteers working around the clock for weeks. It only took 2 hours to topple them. This 2 minute video does little justice.

But how fun would it be to push the first domino.

In Ephesians Paul says, "For we are his workmanship created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” After God created each one of us, He started setting up dominoes. He called them "good works." Then He asks us - do you want to push them over?

Can you imagine setting up all those dominoes and then saying, "Alrighty, we're done here." Every kid will tell you. Dominoes are meant to be knocked down. But in our world, when God sets them up, I'm tempted to leave them standing.

I've discovered believing in God is not nearly as tough as believing He wants to use me. Before eternity began, God set up good works for each one of us. It may be to start a business. Go on a mission trip. Help a single mom with the yard work. Play on the worship team. Lead a small group. Feed the homeless. Teach kids how God makes them GREAT. The dominoes have been set up. We've been prewired with all the skills, talents, and personality we need. Just one thing remains. A little push.

I like how Paul uses the word, "walk." Not sprint. Not run continuously for a long time. Just put one foot in front of the other. He's put you on that cul-de-sac. He knew about the estranged family member in your life. He's given you the intellect to study and the voice to teach. He gave you those kids, and you can't give them back! If you think about it, He's done the hard work. He just wants to know...

What domino will you push over today?

Samson In Action

2008-08-14T10:39:00.006-05:00

This past Sunday our church met Daniel Rassum. Or at least we saw a few pics and heard about how this homeless crack addict was given another chance.

Back in June the Samson Pirate Monk Cruise moored at Renaissance Bible Church. After hearing convicting and pithy phrases like "there is no manhood without brotherhood," and "Jesus called us to a personal relationship not a private one," Nate Larkin and his pirate monks set sail to Winston Salem.

Over breakfast at a Whole Foods, before they rushed off to their next appointment, God interrupted. They didn't ignore Him.

Many "conference type speakers" tell a good tale, but you always wonder if they practice what they so eloquently preach. Nate and his guys are the real deal. Read about Daniel and how a road trip turned into a life-altering journey. Check it out at Samson

They know a little about the Amazing Chase.

Jesus was a Coffee Drinker

2008-08-07T13:53:00.005-05:00

He woke up early in the morning. He stayed out praying all night. He weathered storms on the sea of Galilee. He camped with the disciples. Who does any of that without java? I'm convinced the answer to WWJD (What would Jesus drink) is "coffee." And probably black, no cream. Maybe Judas and Thomas needed cream, but not Jesus.

Jesus knew the power of one on one conversations, and some of the best conversations happen over coffee (and I'll go ahead and say "tea" for the faint of stomach). He never quite caught onto the marketing mentality. He walked away from the crowds (Mark 1:38). John 3:16, the most marketable verse of the past 100 years, was spoken to one guy in a back alley of Jerusalem...probably over a double espresso.

If you want to see what God can do with one on one conversations, pick up the book I recommended this past weekend - Same Kind of Different as Me by Denver Moore and Ron Hall. You can see what it's about at www.samekindofdifferentasme.com

To put our money where your mouth is - we passed out $10.00 Starbucks cards to each family. We also asked you to write down the person who you're going to spend it on. For some of you it's a neighbor that you've never met, a co-worker who annoys you, a mom from down the street, or an estranged family member. The goal isn't to put another notch in the gospel belt - the goal is to start a relationship with no expectations other than to show interest in someone God himself loves.

If you missed the message, you can catch it on itunes under Renaissance Bible Church. After you listen to it, let me know. We've got a card waiting for you.

Taking Intimidation out of Meditation

2008-07-25T14:02:00.005-05:00

Ever gone to one of those fancy restaurants, ordered a steak, and when you looked at the plate, you wondered who ate most of it on the way to your table? Then you took a bite. Perhaps it was the sauce or the texture, but you realized the amount belied the density.

A great chef makes small portions rich.

I love going to Chinese buffets. Management doesn’t love me. They know they are about to lose money. But even with all that food, in two hours I’m hungry again. Just because I devour enough to feed a small country doesn’t mean I get filled up.

Sometimes I feel pressure to know more, be more, read more, consume more. I step up to life’s buffet and want to try everything or I feel like I haven’t gotten my money’s worth. But devouring more volume doesn’t guarantee more satisfaction.

In suburbia, we equate meditation with yoga, new age, and sitting like a pretzel. You hear phrases like, “empty your mind; ohm; and let the stress seep out of your fingertips…” Not a big fan of seepage. For most of us, the spiritual practice of solitude is rare and meditation is an endangered species. I’ve heard of prayer warriors, but never meditation warriors. It’s an ancient art practiced by eastern people. However meditation has a rich tradition throughout the Bible and the early church. And it’s not about emptying your mind; it’s about how to fill it.

“Oh how I love your law! It is my meditation all the day. Your commandment makes me wiser than my enemies, for it is ever with me. I have more understanding than all my teachers, for your testimonies are my meditation.” Psalm 119:97

“This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night…” Joshua 1:8

Meditation is simply chewing small portions of Scripture. How do we start?

Pick a small portion of Scripture: maybe the Beatitudes in Matthew 5; a proverb; or a Psalm

Pick an amount of time you will meditate on it: 5 or 10 minutes a day for a week

Think on it.

I tend to approach Scripture with the attitude, “What can I get out of this?” Meditation is more about what God wants to get out of me. What attitude needs to change? How do I live up to this concept or precept? What message is God whispering? Someone described meditation not as us reading the Bible, but as the Bible reading us.

We market John 3:16 far better than Jesus ever did. He totally missed the potential. After thinking on John chapter 3 for a while I realize he never wore his statement about "born again" on a shirt, or put it on a bumper sticker. He told it to one guy in the middle of the night. Jesus always gave his best to the least amount of people. He didn't wait for the crowds or the cameras. Now, I'm glad we've gone global with that verse, but it made me think, "Am I willing to give my best to the least?" One child. One wife. One friend. One church. One neighbor.

Rather than seeing the Bible as a buffet you need to consume quickly, why not see it as a series of small entrée’s? A great chef knows how to make small portions rich.

Time to Multi-Quit the Multi-Task

2008-07-17T10:59:00.005-05:00

A.W. Tozer's words are fitting - God waits to be wanted. Too bad that with many of us He waits so long, so very long, in vain. At Renaissance this past week we asked the question - if you were told how to chase God, would you be willing to do it? Sure as long as God's like opening up another window in my multi-screened life. God may be speaking to us, but we have far too many layers of noise to actually hear him. Biblically, to chase God, we must cease from other pursuits - then wait. But our culture screams at us: if you sit still, you'll get passed by, you'll miss it, you'll be left out. Some of you asked about an article I quoted from novelist Walter Kim. It's a bit long for a blog, but if you can sheath your new iphone for a few minutes, it might be worth it.

"The Folly of Multi-Tasking"

Our cell phones and computers had us convinced we could do five things at once. But neuroscience, says novelist Walter Kim, is now finding that the mental gymnastics required actually dumbs us down. In the Midwestern town where I grew up (a town so small that the phone line on our block was a “party line” well into the 1960s), there were two skinny brothers in their 30s who built a car that could drive into the river and become a fishing boat. My pals and I thought the car-boat was a wonder. A thing that did one thing but also did another thing—especially the opposite thing, but at least an unrelated thing—was our idea of a great invention and a bold stride toward the future. Where we got this idea, I’ll never know, but it caused us to envision a world-to come teeming with crossbred, hyphenated machines. Refrigerator–TV sets. Dishwasher– air conditioners. Table saw– popcorn poppers. Camera-radios.

With that last dumb idea, we were getting close to something, as I’ve noted every time I’ve dropped or fumbled my cell phone and snapped a picture of a wall or the middle button of my shirt. Impressive. Ingenious. Yet juvenile. Arbitrary. And why a substandard camera, anyway? Why not an excellent electric razor? Because (I told myself at the cell phone store in the winter of 2003, as I handled a feature-laden upgrade that my new contract entitled me to purchase at a deep discount that also included a rebate) there may come a moment on a plane or in a subway station or at a mall when I and the other able-bodied males will be forced to subdue a terrorist, and my color snapshot of his trussed-up body will make the front page of USA Today and appear at the left shoulder of all the superstars of cable news.

While I waited for my date with citizen journalist destiny, I took a lot of self-portraits in my Toyota and forwarded them to a girlfriend in Colorado, who reciprocated from her Jeep. Neither one of us almost died. For months. But then, one night on a snowy two-lane highway, while I was crossing Wyoming to see my girl’s real face, my phone made its chirpy you-have-a-picture noise, and I glanced down in its direction while also, apparently, swerving off the pavement and sailing over a steep embankment toward a barbed-wire fence.

It was interesting to me—in retrospect, after having done some reading about the frenzied activity of the multitasking brain—how late in the process my prefrontal cortex, where our cognitive switchboards hide, changed its focus from the silly phone (Where did it go? Did it slip between the seats?) to the important matter of a steel fence post sliding spear-like across my hood. The laminated windshield glass must have been high quality; the point of the post bounced off it, leaving only a star shaped surface crack. But I was still barreling toward sagebrush, and who knew what rocks and boulders lay in wait.

Five minutes later, I’d driven out of the field and gunned it back up the embankment onto the highway and was proceeding south, heart slowing some, satellite radio tuned to a soft-rock channel called the Heart, which was playing lots of soothing Céline Dion.

“I just had an accident trying to see your picture.”

“Will you get here in time to take me out to dinner?”

“I almost died.”

“Well, you sound fine.”

“Fine’s not a sound.”

I never forgave her for that detachment. I never forgave myself for buying a camera phone. We all remember the promises. The slogans. They were all about freedom, liberation. Supposedly we were in handcuffs and wanted out of them. The key that dangled in front of us was a microchip. “Where do you want to go today?” asked Microsoft in a mid-1990s ad campaign. The suggestion was that there were endless destinations—some geographic, some social, some intellectual—that you could reach in milliseconds by loading the right devices with the right software. It was further insinuated that where you went was purely up to you, not your spouse, your boss, your kids, or your government.

Autonomy through automation. This was the embryonic fallacy that grew up into the monster of multitasking. Human freedom, as classically defined (to think and act and choose with minimal interference by outside powers), was not a product that firms like Microsoft could offer, but they recast it as something they could provide. A product for which they could raise the demand by refining its features, upping its speed, restyling its appearance, and linking it up with all the other products that promised freedom, too, but had replaced it with three inferior substitutes that they could market in its name: Efficiency, convenience, and mobility.

For proof that these bundled minor virtues don’t amount to freedom but are, instead, a formula for a period of mounting frenzy climaxing with a lapse into fatigue, consider that “Where do you want to go today?” was really manipulative advice, not an open question. “Go somewhere now,” it strongly recommended, then go somewhere else tomorrow, but always go, go, go—and with our help. But did any rebel reply, “Nowhere. I like it fine right here”? Did anyone boldly ask, “What business is it of yours?” Was anyone brave enough to say, “Frankly, I want to go back to bed”?

Maybe a few of us. Not enough of us. Everyone else was going places, it seemed, and either we started going places, too— especially to those places that weren’t places (another word they’d redefined) but were just pictures or documents or videos or boxes on screens where strangers conversed by typing—or else we’d be nowhere (a location once known as “here”) doing nothing (an activity formerly labeled “living”). What a waste this would be. What a waste of our new freedom. Our freedom to stay busy at all hours, at the task—and then the many tasks, and ultimately the multitask—of trying to be free. It isn’t working, it never has worked.

The scientists know this too, and they think they know why. Through a variety of experiments, many using functional magnetic resonance imaging to measure brain activity, they’ve torn the mask off multitasking and revealed its true face, which is blank and pale and drawn. Multitasking messes with the brain in several ways. At the most basic level, the mental balancing acts that it requires—the constant switching and pivoting—energize regions of the brain that specialize in visual processing and physical coordination and simultaneously appear to shortchange some of the higher areas related to memory and learning. We concentrate on the act of concentration at the expense of whatever it is that we’re supposed to be concentrating on.

What does this mean in practice? Consider a recent experiment at UCLA, where researchers asked a group of 20- somethings to sort index cards in two trials, once in silence and once while simultaneously listening for specific tones in a series of randomly presented sounds. The subjects’ brains coped with the additional task by shifting responsibility from the hippocampus—which stores and recalls information—to the striatum, which takes care of rote, repetitive activities. Thanks to this switch, the subjects managed to sort the cards just as well with the musical distraction— but they had a much harder time remembering what, exactly, they’d been sorting once the experiment was over.

Even worse, certain studies find that multitasking boosts the level of stress-related hormones such as cortisol and adrenaline and wears down our systems through biochemical friction, prematurely aging us. In the short term, the confusion, fatigue, and chaos merely hamper our ability to focus and analyze, but in the long term, they may cause it to atrophy.

The next generation, presumably, is the hardest-hit. They’re the ones way out there on the cutting edge of the multitasking revolution, texting and instant messaging each other while they download music to their iPod and update their Facebook page and complete a homework assignment and keep an eye on the episode of The Hills flickering on a nearby television. (A recent study from the Kaiser Family Foundation found that 53 percent of students in grades seven through 12 report consuming some other form of media while watching television; 58 percent multitask while reading; 62 percent while using the computer; and 63 percent while listening to music. “I get bored if it’s not all going at once,” said a 17-year-old quoted in the study.)

They’re the ones whose still-maturing brains are being shaped to process information rather than understand or even remember it. This is the great irony of multitasking— that its overall goal, getting more done in less time, turns out to be chimerical. In reality, multitasking slows our thinking. It forces us to chop competing tasks into pieces, set them in different piles, then hunt for the pile we’re interested in, pick up its pieces, review the rules for putting the pieces back together, and then attempt to do so, often quite awkwardly. (Fact: A brain attempting to perform two tasks simultaneously will, because of all the back-and-forth stress, exhibit a substantial lag in information processing.)

Productive? Efficient? More like running up and down a beach repairing a row of sand castles as the tide comes rolling in and the rain comes pouring down. Multitasking, a definition: “The attempt by human beings to operate like computers, often done with the assistance of computers.” It begins by giving us more tasks to do, making each task harder to do, and dimming the mental powers required to do them. It finishes by making us forget exactly how on earth we did them (assuming we didn’t give up, or “multiquit”), which makes them harder to do again.

After the near-fatal consequences of my 2003 decision to buy a phone with a feature I didn’t need, life went on—and rather rapidly, since multitasking eats up time in the name of saving time, rushing you through your two-year contract cycle and returning you to the company store with a suspicion that you didn’t accomplish all you hoped to after your last optimistic, euphoric visit.

“Which of the ones that offer rebates don’t have cameras in them?”

“The decent models all do. The best ones now have video capabilities. You can shoot little movies.” I

wanted to ask, Of what? Oncoming barbed wire? I shook my head. I was turning down whiz-bang features for the first time. “I’ll take the fat little free one,” I told the salesman.

“The thing’s inert. It does nothing. It’s a pet rock.”

I informed him that I was old enough to have actually owned a pet rock once and that I missed it.

From a longer essay that appears in November’s The Atlantic Monthly. © 2007 by The Atlantic Monthly Group. Distributed by Tribune Media Services.

6 AM Happy Hour

2008-06-30T16:18:00.003-05:00

I went to talk with my Creator, but His creation got in the way.

Jesus knew how to get away from distractions (Mark 1:35). He rose before the pre-dawn hue. He found a “desolate place” (Greek for no cell coverage). He pulled up a rock and Jesus the Son communed with Abba the Father.

No distractions. No disciples texting him. No crowds pulling on his robe. No mother asking him to play bartender. Every now and again Jesus got away to get it together. So when I came to the state named after the Spanish word for “mountain,” I planned on following the footsteps of Jesus. For the past week, every morning, I’ve woken up (admittedly the sun was up – it rises just a tad bit early in the Northwest), put on the boots, and hike up the ridge. I walk past the buffalo preserve, through the old apple orchard, say “good morning” to the neighbor’s black lab, and then head up to the top.

If Palestine had been in Montana, this is where Jesus would have stood. I turn to the left and see Glacier National Park peaking through a gap in the mountains. I turn to the right and Flathead Lake spreads out like a blue blanket. Brian the son starts communing with Abba the Father.

Then they come. Not my kids. Not a cell phone ring. Barely visible black creatures from the abyss. I swat one away. Back to my conversation. Then another. “God, thank you for”…splat. Neon signs light up my arms, “Free drinks.” It was the 6 AM happy hour.

I don’t know if mosquitoes met Jesus on his mountain, but I realize it’s not just the demanding distractions that get in the way; even creation itself interrupts. The rocks may cry out praise to God, but the mosquitoes only thank God after they’ve imbibed.

Jesus helped in the drafts of Deuteronomy. So He knew, “From there you will seek the Lord and you will find Him, if you seek him with all of your heart and all your soul (Deut. 4:29). I like the first part of that verse. I find Him when there’s no noise, with cup of Joe in hand, nice views, but He vanishes with the first mosquito. In fact I throw a little blame back on God, “If you hadn’t created mosquitoes, then I could have sought you!” Whether it’s flying blood-suckers or flying emails, my heart and soul get derailed so quickly.

So the next morning I put on the hiking boots determined to seek my Father…but I spray on a bit of cologne d’OFF.

118 Seconds

2008-06-20T13:41:00.002-05:00

“I know what you’re thinking about right now,” said Susan, my dental hygienist while wielding the automatic plaque scraper of death, “From here on out you’re going to floss.”

I wanted to let her know I did floss regularly: every night before my regular six-month check up. But it’s hard to talk with a sandblaster in your mouth.

The dentist forces me into New Years Resolutions every six months, “Next time it will be different…” But something always comes up, like the desire to get to my pillow 118 seconds earlier (for those of you floss-challenged folks, that about how long it takes to clean your chompers).

And it’s not like I despise flossing. But when you’re trying to beat your wife into bed so you don’t have to turn out the lights, every 118 seconds count.

So little by little plaque starts advancing. I believe the wounded plaque general regroups his soldiers after the dentist and says, “We lost a lot of brave men today. You hung on through the scraping, but once she pulled out that sandblaster, we were lucky to cling to these gums. But we know this guy; he’ll eventually stop using the white whip. Then we’ll resume our attack, millimeter by millimeter. WHO’S WITH ME?!”

“Little” is a big word in Scripture.
“A little leaven spoils the whole batch…”
“A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands and poverty will come upon you like a robber.”

If Peter had gone to a dentist in the Bible he probably would have heard, “Oh ye of little flossing…” (some scholars think "Get thee behind me," was because of bad breath)
Blessed are those who floss for they will receive mercy from Susan.
Beware the false flossers, for they will be cast into the place with weeping and gnashing of teeth (an obvious early reference to the six month check up).

You know the old phrase by Susan Burke (Edmund’s sister, also rumored to be a hygienist), “All that is necessary for plaque to triumph is that good people do not floss.”

A little goes a long way, for good or bad. 118 seconds is not that much of my day. But I’m tired. I’ll do it tomorrow. Ever notice how easily a few tomorrows’ turns into a few weeks, months, and then wonder why my power floss the night before has little effect.

Something’s happening little by little in our hearts and relationships:
- a little time away or with God
- a little conversation with or without our spouse
- a little time indulging or divulging an addiction
- a little time to ignore or influence a child, a friend, a neighbor

I bet when your check up rolls around you get “Good Flossing” stickers. So maybe plaque’s not gaining ground in your life, but what is? Little by little, let’s start some new habits…I’m starting one tonight...WHO’S WITH ME?!

P.S. Please don’t send me floss. I have plenty of boxes after the last 10 check ups.

What I Learned from a Pirate

2008-06-13T06:40:00.004-05:00

Nate Larkin, author of Samson and the Pirate Monks sailed into town this week. After a Saturday seminar with the guys and a Sunday sermon on Samson, I jotted down a few thoughts.
• Manhood requires brotherhood. One of my favorite lines from the book, “while Jesus does offer a personal relationship to every one of his disciples, he never promises any of us a private one.” The “self-made man” may have a fat portfolio, but he is skinny on relational capital. Only one truly matters.
• We are both pirate and monk. The reformers called it being sinners and saints. There’s something wild in us, pushed too far, becomes trouble; and there’s something spiritual in us, pushed too far, becomes self-righteousness. We must keep the pirate out of wild waters and the monk out of the ivory tower without losing the authenticity of both.
• “What are you doing? What are you thinking? What are you thinking of doing?” Love that line of questioning. The other one you’ll hear me ask guys now is, “So what is the one thing you didn’t want to tell me.”
• Meetings aren’t for everyone, but brothers are. Samson groups may not float your boat, but I’d wager all of us need a Silas. As a church I would love to see Samson meetings pop up from the grass roots. But I believe from the top down we need to identify who our “and” guy is. If you’ll look through Scripture you’ll see authentic men had “and” guys. David AND Jonathon; Peter AND John; Paul AND Barnabas; Barnabas AND John Mark; Paul AND Silas. King Saul had no “and” guy. Samson had no “and” guy. Whose you’re “and” guy?

Guys – I know I didn’t snatch up all the gold doubloons from this weekend. Share your best nugget from the weekend in the “Leave a Comment” section. Or we’ll swing ye up on the yard arm…

Break the Cycle

2008-02-14T10:04:00.009-05:00

Break the Cycle

The first step is a doozy. You peer over the rock face, tell the kids you love them, and force your feet past your feelings. When you repel, you consciously choose to suspend fear and step out in faith. You trust your 200-pound frame (I haven’t been on a scale lately, so I’m dreaming) to a tightly woven rope. You look down and thoughts free fall through your mind, “What if the knot won’t hold? What if I’m the reason you sign those waiver forms? What if…what if…” You close your eyes, breath out, and take the plunge.

Over the past two weeks we’ve talked about a verse that can change your marriage, Ephesians 5:33: Let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband.

Dr. Emerson Eggerichs (I’m sure kids were kind to him on the playground) wrote Love and Respect. To sum up the book and the verse – men need unconditional respect and women need unconditional love. As expectations go unmet we start, what he calls, a Crazy Cycle: women don’t respect because they don’t feel love; men don’t love because they don’t feel respect. We scream out as we spiral down, “How do you break this cycle?”

The first step is a doozy. Someone has to choose to respect when feeling unloved. Someone will cherish when feeling disrespected. So thoughts free fall through our mind, “Won’t I end up like a doormat? Will she just embarrass me again? What if…what if…” Our problem is we easily see what is done to us before we see what we are doing to our mate – every ox thinks his load is the heaviest. How’s that working for you? To break the cycle, someone has to suspend animosity, pain, and fear and step out in faith. You trust your life to the One who tied your marriage knot. He wants you to know, “I designed it to bear the greatest weights – even your own fear.” So you close your eyes, breath out, and take the plunge.

When disrespected, you find a way to compliment her. When unloved, you go out of your way to show praise. You break the cycle by busting through your pride, ego, and desire for justice. You move your feet past your feelings. We assume our pain must be healed before we can show love and respect. After all, the desire for justice is godly, right? Remember, we will never be more like God than when we love out of our pain. And it’s far easier to act your way into a new kind of feeling than feel your way into a new kind of acting.

One way to avoid the cycle is to turn irritations into information. Next time your wife greets you with all the passion of an iceberg or your husband responds to you with a string of monosyllabic grunts, before you tune out or lash out, take a step back. People can go to a doctor because they have a headache only to find something more sinister lurking beneath the surface. The small irritations can be symptoms of a deeper sickness. Rather than wait for the cancer to spread in our marriage, take moments for periodic Eph. 5:33 check ups – be willing to ask an honestly hear the answer to these two questions:

1. For the husband to ask the wife, “Do you feel the depth of my love and adoration? What will make you feel more cherished?”
2. For the wife to ask the husband, “Do you feel the depth of my respect? What will make you feel more honored in our relationship?”

You never know if a knot will hold unless you put it to the test. What’s amazing is that I’ll trust my life to the knot tied by a 15-year-old skater dude at the rock wall, but I second-guess the God who tied my marriage knot. He designed it to hold, but unless we move our feet past our feelings, we’ll never know. Take the plunge. Repelling’s not much fun if you stay on the cliff. I think the same is true in marriage. But…that first step is a doozy.

My Bucket List

2008-01-26T17:58:00.000-05:00

12:15 am EST Sunday morning it infiltrated our youngest child
12:15 pm EST Monday afternoon it infiltrated our eldest child
10:15 pm EST Monday night it broke through Jen’s immune system
5:00 am EST Tuesday morning, I could feel the VAT (virus advance team) working its way through my IDS (intestinal defense system).
By 3:00 pm EST Tuesday afternoon, after multiple incursions through the rear defenses, the VAT finally burst through my (FDT) frontal dental force.

The one thing children freely share is sickness. They’ll kill you over taking one Lego, but the stomach bug comes with a kiss. It’s the home version of “friendly fire.” What’s worse is that you know it’s coming. I’m just glad I live centuries after the bubonic plague.

One of my least favorite activities is throwing up. I put it up there just after the DMV line and watching the Cowboys in the playoffs. I much prefer the back end solution as opposed to the bucket brigade. But as I dealt with the house causalities and then my own recovery, I had did have time to ponder the words we taught on last week, “Cast your bread upon the waters (invest)…for you know not what disaster may happen on earth (or at the porcelain throne)” (Eccl. 11:1-2).

When you’re truly sick, the kind of sickness that sucker punches you in the gut and then plops you in the bed for a few days, you realize how little you control. Monday night I went to bed fine (though Jen kept waking me up because she had to get up every hour!), but by Tuesday morning I was in a war zone. If a microscopic bug puts us down for the count, then how much more when God decides to make “something crooked” (Eccl. 1:15; 7:13).

Now that I’m free from the bug’s grasp, I’m reminded, once again, to make the most of the moments God gives me. When you’re sick, it’s a good time to make a bucket list – not so much about the experiences I’d love to have personally, but about the people God wants me to invest in. Hopefully I’ll pass on something more than just the stomach flu.

Manger Madness

2007-12-07T07:13:00.000-05:00

Passed by a manger scene lately? I know many of them have been outlawed, but maybe you’ve spied them on your neighbor’s lawn next to the inflatable Santa. Whenever I drive by, calming lyrics flit through my head, “Round yon virgin mother and Child. Holy Infant, so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace.”

Coming back from the Black Friday mall madness, manger scenes instill peace. The quaint barn. The kneeling shepherds. The somber light from the star. A little lamb peering over a makeshift bassinet. And dear Mary, a soft glow around her face, cradling her baby in swaddling clothes. Immanuel: God with us. Silent Night, Holy Night. I can already feel my blood pressure plummet.

Until I ponder the real manger scene. Far from quaint, I see a “Scared yon virgin, mother who was a child.” Mary was probably 12-14 years old. She and Joseph left the only town she knew under a cloud of suspicion. From the headlines of Nazareth News: “Carpenter’s Wife To Have God’s Baby!” Remember, it took an act of God to reverse Joseph’s initial desire to divorce his betrothed Mary. I doubt everyone in the blue-collar town got the same memo. In her third trimester, this poor girl traveled 100 miles on a donkey’s back to an unknown village south of Jerusalem. As the labor pains increase, she pulls into overcrowded Bethlehem stifling her screams. Joseph slams on doors trying to find a room.

While our labor and delivery rooms are outfitted with comfortable beds, satellite TVs, adoring family, and trained doctors, Mary plops down on hay, surrounded by nervous livestock, the soothing stench of manure, Joseph as a midwife, and a stick to bite on for the pain. Though Jesus is the Son of God, Mary never had a divine epidural. A teenager’s screams pierced the silent night. Rather than mom running in to hug her close, strange men come from the hills wanting to see her new baby. Any glow from Mary’s head is the sweat from her brow. Her night would pass quickly. Soon mysterious men would bring her first baby shower gifts…nothing you’d probably find at Babies R Us. As the wise men depart, rumors circled about Herod’s secret service coming to kill any babies under two. So does Mary get to return to the safety of her family’s house where sister could hold the new baby and give her a break? No, they must go farther south, to a strange land and foreign country.

That’s Mary’s manger scene. Mary must have pondered Isaiah 7:14 in those harried days. Immanuel: God with us. He was with her. In labor and delivery, he was with her. When news of danger came, he was with her. When her overnight bag needed to stretch from a few days to a couple years, he was with her. He is with us too. When friends and neighbors slander you, God with us. When family is a distant memory, God with us. When pain grips your body, God with us. When strangers surround you, God with us. When bloodthirsty soldiers nip at your heels, God with us.

On that holy night, I doubt much was silent for Mary. Something tells me this scared young virgin felt little tenderness or peace, save maybe a moment when Jesus lay swaddled in her arms; her strange surroundings faded in the background; as the savior of the world caught some sleep, she murmured, “His name will be Immanuel: God with us.”

God asked young Mary to carry the hope for humanity. We at Renaissance carry a similar burden: to release God’s love into our community and world. Obstacles will be many, but like Mary, we rest in this simple truth: Immanuel, God with us.

The Dash - James Metsger

2007-10-24T15:18:00.000-05:00

My mom used to go to the cemetery to walk the dog, look at the gravestones, and to let us boys learn how to drive. Although not a happy place, the cemetery was a safe place for a new driver. Recently I went to the cemetery to bury a relative. While I was there I noticed something about the gravestones. Typically there is a name, a date of birth, and the date of death.

The way I see it I have two thirds of my stone completed. James D Metsger. April 28, 1978 - I haven’t had much say about the content of my gravestone. I didn’t choose my name. I had no say in the date of my birth. I won’t have any say in the date of my death. Nevertheless, there is one thing I get to decide. I get to decide what happens during the dash and how I respond to it. The dash is my life, the choices I make, the people and causes I invest in. If I choose I can fill the dash with a lot stuff that doesn’t really matter. Or I can decide to use the dash for something that will last.

Something that I want to fill my dash is a passion for God’s design for community. God has created us for community. Gravestones stand alone, but God doesn’t want me to. Sometimes I want to though. I tell myself it’s easier to avoid criticism, hurt, or heartache if I keep to myself. But that’s a lie. God hasn’t wired me that way. And he hasn’t wired you that way either. This isn’t an extrovert or introvert question. It’s a design question. God wants you and me to live life in the context of community.

The second week of October marked the beginning of 242Groups. These groups are designed for people to experience biblical community, renew our minds, and release our strengths into the community. They will be messy at times. They will stretch our people. They will stretch me. Although it may be hard road I’m excited. I know I won’t be traveling alone.

Blind Leading the Blind - Bobby Girard

2007-10-24T15:05:00.000-05:00

Some blind men encountered an elephant roaming through their village. They gathered around the beast of burden in an effort to take a closer “look”. When asked to describe what they “saw”, each offered up a very different answer.

The blind man in front, who had a hold of the trunk, thought the elephant was something like a “a large boa constrictor”. The 2nd man found the ear and thought the elephant was more like the “fronds of a coconut palm”. The 3rd, who was kneeling by the side of the elephant, grabbed its massive leg and compared it to the “base of a mighty oak tree”. The 4th man standing beside it imagined it as a “great wall.” And of course, the last blind man stationed near the “business” end of the animal grabbed the tail and remarked that an elephant was surely like “a rope”.

Though none had the whole view, they all had a correct view. They all described their encounter with the largest land mammal on earth through the filter of their own perspective, and as such they would always remember this elephant in a very personal way.

I see this dynamic when we come together for corporate worship. We have all encountered the living God, but because we are limited by our humanity to only seeing “through a mirror dimly,” we rely heavily on our own perspective. Those experiences are going to be a bit different from anyone else’s and very personal and very precious.

Some kneel to grasp the leg. Some lift their hands to catch the ear. Others stand, arms open as if they are measuring the expanse of the great wall. Some are happy just to smile and “hold hands” with the tail. The beauty of the body of Christ is that all of these expressions are worship, all are valid, and all are born out of our very personal encounters with God, through His Word, His Spirit, His creation, and His church.

We are all free to worship, wholeheartedly, in whatever way best fits our own relationship to our Lord. Whether it be alone in our prayer closet or in a corporate worship service or driving home in the car from work in rush hour traffic, let’s give to God what He deserves. Prayer. Praise. Passion. Respond to Him according to his goodness and his “Godness”. That’s what He created us to do!!

And remember that by sharing our experiences and encounters with God with each other, we will gain a vision and an understanding of Him that is far clearer than any we might have on our own. It was only as the blind men shared their stories of the encounter with the elephant that each of them were able to fully “see”.

Bobby Girard; Worship Arts Pastor

What Do You Say?

2007-09-20T14:44:00.000-05:00

No one taught me how to beg, I was self-taught. I aced the exam when it came to begging for the latest X-Wing Fighter or that second Big Mac at McDonalds. However, I never seemed to grasp the subject of gratitude. It was like the Trigonometry of manners. For some reason I needed a tutor to help me remember to say “Thank you” after that wonderful broccoli casserole or send a gushing note of gratitude after the Stetson cologne gift pack.

I think humans were never hard-wired with gratitude. It’s a learned subject. On this study in Colossians, Paul seems to put this church in detention to make sure they get gratitude down. Five times in this short four-chapter epistle he reminds them about saying thanks. He’s like the parent after his kid opens the dress socks in front of his aunt, “What do you say?”

• He prays they would live a lifestyle of “giving thanks” (1:12).
• A person who follows Christ is “abounding in thanksgiving” (2:7).
• Towards the end of his letter he tells them to be steadfast in prayer with “thanksgiving” (4:5).
• To cover all his bases, he tells “whatever you do…do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God…” (3:17).

But my favorite comes at the end of a long diatribe where Paul lists all these things we’re to do. It’s like a Christmas list of qualities he desires to see in Christians: “compassionate, kindness, meekness, patience…forgiving…love…peace…” and a ton more. But at the end he adds this small phrase, “And be thankful” (3:15). I know he’s writing this, but for some reason I picture him talking to a bunch of cut-up Christians on how to act and then he adds with a gruff voice, “and for Pete’s sake, be thankful!” I don’t know if these Colossians never sent him a thank you card for some Stetson cologne, but Paul wanted to convey this idea pretty clearly, “If you’ve heard it once, you’ve heard at least five times in this letter, say ‘Thank you!’”

Perhaps we work so hard to get what we want we never quite pause to see what we’ve been given. We worry so much about what we don’t have that we miss what we have. Two weeks ago we talked about replacing “gimmie” prayers with “grateful” prayers. For one week we refrained from asking God for anything and simply thanked Him for all He has done and given us. I received a couple of responses. One woman in the church turned down a job she really wanted because it would hamper her family life. Rather than pray for another job, she tried something new:

I took your advice and only prayed prayers of thanks for the current job I have and that I know I have more than most, after I declined the job offer yesterday. Don’t you know 2 hours later they called me back with a better offer, and then affordable childcare came our way too! Our God is truly a GREAT and giving God.

Now, God isn’t obligated to do that for everyone, but it was a cool story. Another guy told me on the phone, “Man I had to really think about my prayers this week. I realized how programmed I was to simply ask God for stuff without ever thanking Him. When I was left with just saying thanks, I really had to take time and think about what I was saying.”

Mom, if you never heard it from me, thanks for those x-wing fighters.

You're Only Spiritual if you Wake Up at 4:30 am

2007-08-31T14:03:00.000-05:00

“I rise up at 4:30 am every morning to meet with my Savior,” that didn’t bother me near as much as the next phrase, “And so do you if you want to have a deep relationship with God.”

This old codger had no clue about college students. If we saw 4:30 am, it was because we were just hitting the sack, not the alarm clock. But my astute, and incredibly old, professor of spiritual life was convinced that God only made appointments with the early risers.

Of course in college we had one luxury I don’t find I have as much now that I am moving unavoidably toward the age of my professor. We had time in spades, even with all those all night card games. We didn’t need the early morning to find a “quiet time” (another phrase I loathe, what guy wants a quiet time?). If we wanted quiet we had from 12:45 until my 3:15 class to go hiking up the mountain or visit the chapel. I could journal just as easily in the morning as I could right after dinner and before we headed out for my cheesy western burger desert at 10:00 pm.

Now I am discovering that it wasn’t just the curmudgeon who knew little about college culture. I knew squat about “adult culture.” Perhaps he wanted to instill a discipline in us because he knew that time sped up dramatically after we doffed cap and gown. He knew we had yet to hear the cacophony of noise awaiting our ears: rush hour traffic, the metronome of endless meetings, and bleating babies. Perhaps he knew, like so many in Scripture, early morning was the calm before our daily storms. Most of us rise up and the alarm clock is a starter’s gun – we’re off the blocks and don’t look back until we set it again. The Psalmist says, “It is vain for you to rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil” (127:2). In other words, it’s useless to toil without giving thought to the Provider.

This morning I read some from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life Together. In a chapter entitled, “The Day with Others.” He made a statement my aged professor would have agreed with, “For Christians, the beginning of the day should not be burdened and oppressed with besetting concerns for the day’s work. At the threshold of the new day stands the Lord who made it. All the darkness and distraction of the dreams of night retreat before the clear light of Jesus Christ and his wakening Word.”

If you are like me, early morning is one of the precious few times in the day where distractions don’t lurk behind every ringing phone, email alert, tv show that I just have to watch and then I’ll settle down, or the daily grind of work or parenting. That time of day made for the first sip of coffee. Perhaps that is why throughout Scripture the morning is presented as that moment, bereft of noise, people spent time with God. “O God, thou art my God, early will I seek thee…”(Psalm 63:1). It was Jesus in Mark who “rose up early in the morning and went to a desolate place to pray” (1:35). They knew it was far too easy to start the day with, “I’ll get to Him later…”

Intercourse is a funny word. It just made you pause. There’s a town in Pennsylvania with that unfortunate name. But it used to carry the connotation of “conversation.” Conversation with the Lord is like intercourse with a spouse. If you’ve got kids, setting your “conversation time” at 5:30 pm is probably begging for the untimely “walk-in.” If we want to keep the “walk-ins” with God at a minimum, there’s something wise about rising early. Trust me, I still only see 4:30 once a day. And I’m glad God doesn’t define His relationship with me with such a small thing as a 30 minute “quiet time.” But I know I need time with my Provider. He’s fuel for the day. So I guess in a way I’m starting to come around to those words from the old codger. He’s probably in Heaven by now; can’t imagine that guy is still alive…he’s probably waking Jesus up every morning saying, “Hey, it’s time for me to meet with you.”

Costanza Christianity

2007-07-19T15:06:00.001-05:00

“Hello my name is George, I am unemployed and living with my parents.” It may be one of the best lines from one of the best sit-coms of all time.

You may not have been a Seinfeld aficionado, but on this episode, George Costanza, known as a “short, stocky, slow-witted bald man,” decides to do the exact opposite of what he naturally thinks. Therefore, when he meets a beautiful woman, instead of pretending to be Art Vandaly the accomplished architect, he risks all by telling the truth.

Bobby Girard, our guest worship leader this past weekend calls it “Costanza Christianity” – where we deliberately go against our natural tendencies.

In my journal I am asking the question: What would I do if I had confidence?

What would I do if I risked it all instead of doing what I naturally do: make excuses, wallow in fear, or simply tune out God’s promptings with a good tv show, like Seinfeld reruns.

Lurking in our church I believe there are artists waiting to be heard, causes waiting to be won, and risky ministries waiting to be started. All that remains is for us to actually believe that God wants to use us. Instead of shrinking back, let’s press forward; instead of finding an excuse, let’s find a reason; instead of fear, let’s try faith.

We know where fear ends.

For the eyes of the Lord go to and fro throughout the whole earth, that He may strongly support those whose hearts are completely His . . .
2 Chronicles 16:9

God’s just waiting for us to risk it all. Take it from George, what do we have to lose?

Boy or Girl?

2007-07-12T10:57:00.000-05:00

Jen Right Now

Jen Nine Months From Now

It’s really the unknown that drives you crazy.

The past year has been stressful enough so we thought we’d go ahead and add a new baby onto the anxiety meter. We redlined a long time ago with starting a new church, moving, remodeling a 15 year-old house, and marrying off a sister. When Jen called and told me the news, I just said, “Yep.” And then I gushed with joy!

So February will answer a ton of questions.

Boy or girl?

Brantley wants a girl and Palmer wants a boy. We’re not sure if it’s because they really care about the child or because whatever the sex of the baby determines who gets the bunk bed in their room. You can imagine their anxiety over the next 33 weeks.

Will the baby have Jen’s good looks or my all-star athletic physique?

Will the baby be colicky like Palmer or sleep like a fish under water like Brantley?

Interesting that our journey with the baby feels all too similar with the church.

What will this church look like in February?

Will it grow slowly or quickly? Will we have money spilling out of the coffers or praying someone hits the lottery? When people walk into our midst will they sense a mission or the mundane?

It’s really the unknown that drives you crazy. Glad God already has been forming our baby’s innermost parts.

Take a Swing

2007-05-02T23:58:00.000-05:00

When was the last time you swung on a vine?

Last Sunday night after everyone left the Burns' house, a few of us lingered over empty boxes of pizza. Dale noticed a vine hanging from a tree and did what any guy would do, he tried to yank it down. After pulling down on the vine with his (insert best estimate of Dale's weight) frame, he realized it could hold him. Then he did what any guy would do after finding out a vine would carry his weight, he backed up and swung on it.

As Dale careened through the air like a pirate off the yardarm, we did what all guys would do while watching their friend swing on a vine, we sat back waiting for him to hit the tree on the return flight. As he passed the tree and fell to earth safely in a bed of needles, Dave would do what any guy would do after his best friend proved he could swing on a vine, he stepped up for a go.

After Dave landed on his kiester in the needles, I did what any guy would do. I knew I couldn't be the only remaining person with testosterone on the sidelines. Yes, we're still childish at 34.

I pulled down on the vine to make sure their combined weight hadn't loosened it. I stepped back and took a running leap. In the air I realized I had absolutely no control, my legs flailed, the tree loomed and I let go early. I landed on my rump and heard what every guy would hear in that situation: laughter. I failed to trust the flight plan of the vine.

In the upper room, Jesus said to his companions, "I am the true vine...abide in me...for apart from me you can do nothing." While he refered to bearing fruit, he could have easily talked about extreme swinging. He asks us to trust his flight plan. We grip, we cling, and when fear grips us, we tend to let go instead of trusting the vine. And we miss out on the whole adventure.

I had to do it again. This time I landed on my feet.

Tonight the guys prayed about being men who dared to risk something for God. In essence, I heard them pray for an opportunity to swing on a vine - the chance to be out of control, but having the courage to hang on.

I heard one guy pray for a man he's been trying to reach for years.

I heard another petition for boldness to pray with his wife.

I heard another talk about helping pregnant teenagers find adoptive parents.

Jesus is the vine. Hebrews states, "Without faith, it's impossible (not difficult, not hard, but impossible) to please God." Unfortunately many of us just keep testing him to see if he can hold our weight: we crave safety and security. We never back up and take a running leap. Our legs will flail. Our hearts will pound. And he promised to hold us through the arc.

Take a swing. You never know where God may take you.

One other application point - I just found out Dale had a huge fear of heights from childhood. Yet he was the first to go. He set the pace, and others followed. When people risk, it spurs the rest of us to get off the sidelines.

Take a swing. You never know who is watching.

Clinging to the vine,

Brian

More Pics from Easter

2007-04-13T11:04:00.000-05:00

The Big Thing about A Small Church

2007-04-12T09:57:00.000-05:00

For those of you that missed our Easter Eggstravaganza, we had a blast at the Burns' new home in Winding Walk. You'll see a few pics of our time together. 47 of us filled up the house (and I still think we could have put in another 20 and not felt it! Don't tell that to Dave and Shannon).

As we gathered that afternoon I thought about a few things.

There's something big about being small. In a culture of of email and blogs, packed schedules and buzzing blackberry's, think about the last time you spent a few hours having an eyeball to eyeball conversation, hung out with some guys on the couch watching the Masters, or watched your kids scour a back yard for hidden chocolate.

A couple of things I felt:

1. I didn't feel rushed.
2. I didn't have an agenda.
3. I wanted more.

People desire connection - and it takes time, intentionality, and usually a honey baked ham. The big thing about being small is that we can offer people opportunities to be known and to know others; learn Scripture in a less formal setting; and linger over a meal and discover they aren't alone in something as serious as how to raise a difficult child or something as superficial as finding someone else actually watches "Deadliest Catch."

What a great thing to share with others. Don't feel like you need to wait to invite friends for an "official launch." Let them know where we are as a church. That we are pioneering a new work, that we feel the freedom to be flexible, and that we don't have everything figured out yet. But if you want something that feels a bit like family, don't wait, jump in now. Our smallness may be the most attractive aspect of our church right now. If people are expecting all the programs of a big church, they can wait a little while. But if they want a big opportunity to connect, come while we all still fit in one house for dinner!

Thanks for a great Resurrection Day.

Brian

Don't Know if You've Noticed...

2007-03-29T07:27:00.000-05:00

But life ain't easy!

It appears to me that since we all made the decision to go forward with planting a church, while God has blessed us immeasurably, many of us have come up against some pretty stiff winds.

- I think of a father who is battling prostate cancer
- A child suffering from seizures
- Stomach viruses doing their dirty work
- Houses with unforeseen cracks
- A child suffering from pneumonia
- Vehicles on the fritz

And I am sure that's probably not the half of it. Or the end of it.

Not that we shouldn't expect anything less. Jesus and the apostles kept the hard reality of life in the forefront of their minds. That, combined with the truth that we do not battle against flesh and blood, proves anything God orchestrates the Enemy will seek to frustrate.

Pray especially for the Karant family this week. The hits keep coming. As many of the ladies probably heard last night, Heidi has to keep Ava up all night tonight for a sleep test - somehow that doesn't quite make sense to me, but I'm no doctor!

Suffer me just a bit as I quote from that preeminent theologian, Rocky Balboa, "It ain't about how hard you hit; Nuttin' hits harder than life," the Italian Stallion surmises, "It's about how much you can take and keep movin' forward." (If you say it with a hard Philly accent, it works much better.)

The real theologians call that the perseverance of the saints. Peter challenges me, "Brothers, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ sufferings, that you may rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed. "

Just think, if we in our small cadre face such a bounty of issues, imagine what our neighbors and our community experiences without the benefit of praying friends.

I read Oswald Chambers this morning:

"The battle is not against sin or difficulties or circumstances, but against being so absorbed in work that we are not ready to face Jesus Christ at every turn."
Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest : Selections for the Year (Grand Rapids, MI: Discovery House Publishers, 1993, c1935), March 29.

As we persevere through the hits, as we stand firm against a stiff wind, let's keep our eyes up and out. God desires our devotion and people need our attention. If you know of someone in the church who is struggling, give them a ring, bring them a dinner...and if they're not in our church, do the same thing - they'll be surprised you noticed.

In Him,
Brian

Pics from the Stables

2007-03-12T07:48:00.000-05:00

Great Things Start in Stables

2007-03-12T07:44:00.000-05:00

That's our new mantra - great things start in stables. Now these aren't just any stables, we never settle here at Renaissance. However, it is a bit surreal walking by a horse on the way to Bible study.

Sewell took some great shots. I'll see if I can upload a few more.

Brian

Do We Just Like the Idea of Serving?

2007-03-12T07:40:00.000-05:00

Thought you might like to read a challenging quote or two by David Kinnamen on the reward of serving others in a real way:

David Kinnaman, who directed the study of American lifestyles, commented on the implications of the research. "Americans are a unique blend of contradictions. Mosaics want to be known as activists, but their recycling pales to that of older adults. People think of themselves as engaged in assisting needy people, but the vast majority of Americans merely dabble in helping others. Individuals who have financial means are no more likely than others to assist the poor. Never-married adults envision themselves as independent and self-sufficient, but their levels of substance abuse and sexual behaviors suggest otherwise. Political liberals want to be known for their open minds, but their profanity, cutting remarks, and frequent use of 'payback' undermines their attitudes of acceptance. The respect, patience, self-control and kindness of born again Christians should astound people, but the lifestyles and relationships of born again believers are not much different than others.

“The difficulty," Kinnaman continued, "is that with increasingly personalized and self-oriented behaviors and routines, the contradictions in people’s lives will become even more apparent. Americans will become even less aware of who and what they are. As people become more interested in the latest diversion and more tuned into personal satisfaction, their capacity and energy for connecting with others - or understanding themselves - will diminish."

The president of the California-based firm, Kinnaman suggested the moral challenges facing Americans are tied to how much they help others. "Living morally is not just obeying thou-shall-not commandments, but also actively enriching the lives of those around us. It is easy to criticize Americans' self-indulgences and their moral lapses. It is much more difficult to find creative, customized, and meaningful ways to expose them to the needs of others. By getting the focus off themselves, Americans might experience much-needed transformation within their own lifestyles and perspectives."

Why $37.46 Matters

2007-02-20T04:30:00.000-05:00

$37.46 is enough for a family of four at Red Robin, but just barely covers an entree at Mickey and Mooch.

$37.46 spots you a few decent tickets at the Bobcats game, but don't plan on it covering your parking and certainly not 2 hot dogs all the way and a coke.

$37.46 would be enough to handle three of my haircuts, but won't style my wife's curls. (Now to be fair here, she would counter with, "I only get one haircut for your three!" Point taken.)

But for one boy, $37.26 meant far more than a night on the town or a couple of caramel macchiatos with an extra shots of espresso.

While sitting in my office this week (that would be the back table at Cafe Mia) a boy who still loves bionicles and doesn't mind when ice cream slips down his chin approached my "desk." He carried a plastic ziplock bag full of every kind of coin and a wad of bills. Sheepishly he looked up at me, dropped the bag in my hand and said simply, "Pastor Brian, this is for the church."

Let's face it, in surburbia, we sneeze and $37.46 flies out of our pockets. It doesn't go very far. That's one tank of gas, one trip to Target, and one family's movie night.

As I wipe away the tears, I can't help but think of another little boy who brought a bag to the disciples. It was all he had, but they probably thought, "2 loaves and 5 fishes - that's won't go far beyond my stomach." Yet in Jesus' hands a sack lunch fed thousands.

Why does $37.46 matter? Because with it Renaissance Bible Church started her ministry. That little bag was our first tithe. We'll never know the little boy's name back in John 6:9 and we won't make it a practice to list someone's name by their contributions, but I can't wait to see what Jesus' does with Nate's ziplock bag.

So this is a blog!

2007-02-14T09:45:00.000-05:00

O Pioneers,

Wow, John Karant set me up on a blog - you know, the trend that has swept across the world that probably none of us do. We'll see if it sticks! It's actually a cool way to communicate and check in on what is happening with the church or just muse on various and sundry items.

For those of you Renaissance folks, here are some updates:

1. We had a great meeting this morning with what we are now calling the "Advance Team." I realized that "Advisory Team" just didn't fit because we will be getting advice from everyone on our launch team. You all have a ton to offer and we will take advantage of it. I'm reading a great book on WWI right now that highlghted General "BlackJack" Pershing's advance team that had to go over to France first to prepare the way for the hundreds of thousands of troops that were on their way. This team was responsible for building the vast infrastructure for the army to come. In the same way, this small team will be heading up all of us as we seek to build the infrastructure of this church. If you haven't already, you will be getting calls or emails about your vital role as we get ready for launch. The team consists of:Brian Goins, Don Meredith, Lee Francis, Jeremy Davidson, Dale Fite, Dave Burns, Todd Knepper, Jan Francis, and John Karant.

2. We will be opening a bank account today or tomorrow and will get the information out to you post haste so those checks can start rolling in. We will set up online banking so you will be able to send it over the internet as well.

3. Cox Mill Elementary is our #1 option as far as a meeting place is concerned. We will update you as soon as we hear the final affirmation, but right now plan on Sunday afternoons at around 4ish. Sunday mornings are booked right now and we thought it would be great to have our Bible Study and then all eat together for dinner - again just following our Acts 2:42 principle.

4. UNC got beat last night by Va Tech at home. I'm bitter, but at least we beat Duke last week.

Love you guys,

Brian

O Pioneers

2007-02-14T09:21:00.000-05:00

February 13, 2007

That's also the title of a great book by Willa Cather just in case you are
interested. I wanted to give you all an update on the state of Renaissance
this week.

- The women are going to throw down some power tonight as they gather to pray at Jan and Lee Francis' house at 7 pm.

- The Advance team will be meeting tomorrow to discuss the nuts and bolts of putting the foundation underneath this church. Soon we all will be finding a place to help out, whether it be organizing the kids ministry to preparing our missions program to help with payroll, we'll all be finding our spot on the wall (to borrow a theme from Nehemiah).

- I just talked through the articles of incorporation with Don this afternoon and so we should have our account set up by tomorrow - so we can start sending in those tithe checks!

- Our hope is to start meeting weekly on Sunday, February 25th for a Bible Study. Morning or evening will depend on the place we can meet.

A few things to be praying for:

1. A place to meet on a weekly basis. We are praying for a spot that we can meet on Sunday morning. However we may only have a spot on Sunday nights. For now Cox Mill Road is open, but we are evaluating other options as well. Highland Creek elementary is a no as well as Odel School Rd.

2. Pray that we will all be flexible and maintain a sensitivity to the Spirit in the early days of this church. Our goal is to build a solid foundation, but foundation work is not always easy or comfortable. Pray that we can be gracious towards each other and believe the best when things don't go as expected.

3. If you think about it, pray that our house would sell in the next month. And we have put a bid on a foreclosure that we really like in Highland Creek - we hopefully will hear back in the next day or two whether or not we got it.

4. Pray for Taylor Gibbs (leukemia) and his parents as they go through this trial.

5. Pray for our friends Christian and Susan Werner as they are planning on having a baby this week.

6. Pray for Brent and Nicole Vickers and their daughter, Ashton who is now at home and doing well.

If you haven't already, pull out Acts 2:42-47 sometime this week. Notice
what the early church focused on - and should still be a model for us today.
While the methods might change, our pursuit of teaching, fellowship, eating
together (it's in there!), and praying should be a hallmark of every church.
When you see the words, "Devoted themselves" in 42, that word devoted
connotes "a fierce dedication." They were fiercely dedicated to building the
early church through these means.

Look forward to all that God has done and is about to do.

In Him,
Brian