Archive for September, 2010

Grilling

Monday, September 20th, 2010

There is something about cooking on the grill that connects to a fellow’s heart.  Now I’m not saying women cannot cook on the grill, or that they may not even grill better than the average man.  But, whether it’s a campfire, a charcoal grill, a gas grill, or one of those high-end solar powered, laser models with self lighting features and temperature control; there is just something about “meat over fire” that speaks to the heart of a guy.  Maybe it is cooking while standing out in our backyard, amidst the flowering garden and well groomed lawn that makes us feel like we are camping or roughing it somehow.  Maybe it’s in the few minutes we spend outside near the grill with our favorite beverage, sitting in the lawn chair that we break away from the rat race and we claim we are the emperor supreme of all we survey; the master and commander who determines whether that chicken breast is cooked thoroughly or not.  With these extra long tongs in hand, the caveman returns.  We aren’t the accountant making veggie and shrimp shish kabob, or a minister warming up hot dogs.  No, at the grill we are Ogg, the mighty hunter, cooking some prime cuts of wooly mammoth.  We are the provider of the real food for the family.  Sure the wife is making the potatoes and salad and vegetables and drink.  And she was the one who bought the meat at the store….which was handed to us in a hermetically sealed package.  There is something about the grill that will not let us lose heart.   Even when we get handed the tongs and the meat, and our wife says, “OK, here ya go.  Now go and play, but try not to burn it this time.”  The inner caveman…the inner Viking…the inner mountain man wells up and calls out in a brutish tone, “Me cook meat over fire!”  It is of course always appropriate to follow this declaration with a howl at the moon.  How long has it been since you’ve had a good howl?

I think the grill has the same mystical power over us as power tools.  And not just power tools, it is electronics also.  There is something about men that urges us to want the bigger, better, more powerful.  We want the TV with a 72 inch screen, hi-def, 3-D, LCD with 500,000 kilajerks contrast, and 20,000 megamertz refreshing.  And even though I don’t know what any of it means, I know I need those things.  We want a reciprocating saw that will be able to cut our car in half in 3 minutes or less.  Not that I will ever do that, and can’t foresee a reason to want to cut anything that quickly. But…I know I want….no…I need it!  We want a computer that has the most memory and the fastest processor possible…ok, we really want what’s not even possible yet…..but put my name on the list for it!   Now, my wife will tell you all this compulsion of mine is from testosterone poisoning.  That being a male makes me crazy.  I don’t know… maybe she’s right…I just want to know why my BBQ tongs are aluminum, and Fred’s are stainless steel?!?!

The Friday morning men’s Bible study is going through the book of Matthew.  This coming Friday we will talk about Chapter 3, where we meet John the Baptist.  I love Matthew’s description of John.  Now here is a guy I can relate to!  John is a guy I want to invite over to join me to grill and howl at the moon.  John seems to be a testosterone pumped prophet of the Lord.  He wanders through the wilderness, calling on people to repent.  There’s no, “Come let’s play nice together.”  Nope, John is out there.  “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.”   John’s wild man survivalist nature is shown in his wardrobe and diet as well.  4John’s clothes were made of camel’s hair and he had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey.  And when the religious leaders came around, did John mellow and welcome them?  Nope.  He was in their face.  You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? 8Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.  Yeah, that’s telling them, John!

Now the scary part of having John over for supper would be that he would see right through me.  He’d call me to repent, and remind me that my life is a mess.  He’d tell me that when it comes to repenting I should be at the front of the line.  He’d remind me that following Jesus isn’t about Sundays, or religious talk, or church meetings.  No, following Jesus is about changing your life.  Jesus baptizes with the Holy Spirit and fire, to cleanse, purge, and change.  I know any attempts I made to justify myself, or any claim of righteousness I might make because I was a minister would get me compared to a pile of copperheads and cottonmouths.  No, John doesn’t mess around….he gets right to the point.  I think I’ll try to straighten myself up a bit.  See if I can’t go a bit deeper in my studies, and be a little more earnest in my prayers.  If John comes over for dinner, there are just two things I want to know.  How he wants his steak cooked, and whether he’ll howl at the moon with me.

Chad

Smoke Detector

Monday, September 13th, 2010

I’ve always thought of myself as being reasonably intelligent.  All right!  I heard those snickers!  Stop that!  I am a college graduate (Go Gauchos!)  I graduated from Seminary, by the grace of God and Dr. Story.  I think I can hold a rational conversation…at least with myself.  I know what waxing and waning moons mean.  But today, I’m afraid I nearly suffered a terrible defeat to an evil foe.

I came into the office this morning and heard the oh so irritating beep of a smoke detector with a low battery.  After playing a game of “Bet You Can’t Find Me” with the beeping nuisance, I climbed on a chair in the kitchen and took down the smoke detector.  I pulled the batteries and declared myself the supreme master of problems.  I wandered back to my office to finish some emails.  Then it happened….Beeeeep!  What was that?!?!?!  It can’t be.  I had pulled the batteries out of that little monster.  Well, maybe it had one last dying beep in it.  I sat down to start writing again.  A couple minutes later…Beeeeep!  NO WAY!  I marched into the kitchen vowing that I would not be defeated by this little piece of demonic electronic.  Perhaps I was wrong….could there be another detector in here?  There’s nothing on the ceiling.  Nothing in the storage closet.  Nothing here….nothing there.   Beeeeep!  How could it be?  How could this battery-less, soulless, mindless, little ummm “thing” defeat me?  I grabbed the smoke detector and tried to decide whether to stick it in the oven or the refrigerator.  I may not be able to get it to shut up, but I can put it where I can’t hear it!  And that’s when it happened.  Beeeeep!   What’s that?  I had it in my hand, but the sound came from over there.  How could that be possible?  There’s nothing over there.   I looked.  I looked again.  And again!  Nothing!  I became aware that this evil little machine could not only live without batteries….it was also a ventriloquist and could throw its voice.  How diabolical!  I began considering phoning Father Mark at the Catholic Church to see if he would mind if I dipped this foul monstrosity into some holy water for an hour or so. 

Then it occurred to me.  There is a sheet hanging on the wall.  Well, we like to pretend it’s a curtain, but it really is just an old sheet.  I cautiously stepped closer to the curtain.  I didn’t want to scare my quarry.  I raised the bottom hem and there it was.   An old carbon monoxide detector plugged into the wall.  It had a battery back up, and the batteries were dying.  I unplugged the small box and reached into the back of it.  I pulled out the little 9 volt battery and listened with satisfaction to a final gasping Beeee *cough* *cough*  ehhhh (sound fades into silence)  I stifled the maniacal laugh that wanted to explode from me.  Yes, my tormentor was dead, but Stella was in the office and I didn’t want her thinking I was some kind of weird crazy person.  Ok, I didn’t want her thinking it more than she already does.  My victory was sweet.  The rest of the morning was quiet.  I sat at my desk and pretended to know what I was doing all the way until lunch.

There are times in our lives where we just can’t seem to find what we are looking for.  Our lives are full of distractions, and we want to find focus.  Our lives are full of fears, and we want to find peace.  Our lives are full of disappointments, and we want to find hope.  Just like the beeping detector, every time we think we have a handle on our problems….beep…a new problem arises.  How can we keep going? In Matthew 11, Jesus says  28“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Jesus is not telling us that He will make everything fine and dandy.  But He tells us, if we will come to Jesus and carry the burden of being a Christian.  We will find that somehow our other burdens will seem lighter.  Perhaps it’s because we know we have eternal life, or forgiveness for our sins or perhaps it’s just knowing we are loved.  Whatever it is, don’t let the ugly beeping problems drive you crazy.  Let the love and grace of Jesus help you find rest for your soul.

Chad

Choices Choices

Wednesday, September 8th, 2010

Pulling weeds the other day was a mess.   I’m not one of those people who weed and garden every week.  No, I’m more of a semiannual or annual person.  I like to give the weeds a fighting chance.  But…it was getting harder to find the sidewalk because of the overgrowth, and we were afraid search and rescue might be called because a small child wandered into what we call our “flower garden”.   So on a beautiful Saturday morning, I went out and did battle with the forces of darkness.  Giving the weeds 5 or 6 months to grow means they have a chance to get some decent roots.  Pulling them out means digging in the dirt, and getting to spend some quality time with its many offspring/shoots.  All you gardeners are out there shaking your head sadly.  You want to tell me that if I will pull weeds regularly, then they will just be little shoots that will come up quickly and easily.  By waiting as long as I do, I end up with Audrey II, the plant from Little Shop of Horrors. Perhaps you’re right. All I know is that committing an hour every Saturday morning to gardening, I risk giving up on watching all the amazing infomercials. How can I give up shows for things like the Autoflosser, which can floss your teeth and be used to get that grime out from between your toes (no additional attachments required), and the Remote Finder, a small electronic alarm which causes your TV or other remote to give off a 140dB alarm if it is not used for more than ten minutes?  Saturday morning TV also offers 28 different shows on how to become a millionaire through internet sales of 8 track tape collections. (Yes, one day this collection of ’70s garage bands from Sri Lanka will be worth more than the $55,000 I paid for it.)

So it comes down to the problem of choices.  Do I weed the garden, or enrich my understanding of all the worlds greatest inventions (available for only 23 easy monthly payments of $29.95 plus shipping, handling, and processing charges)?  It’s not an easy choice.  The infomercial tells me to call within the next ten minutes and I’ll get the free bonus gifts of a magic garlic grater and 10 acres on Pluto, for only the cost of additional postage, handling and processing.  I know that 10 acres on Pluto isn’t what it used to be since Pluto is no longer a planet, but it’s still a great deal!  So, if I’m weeding the garden, how will I know when the 10 minutes start?  And what about Sassy Lassy the new make up for dogs.  Our dog has more of a winter fur tone, and so far they’ve only offered make up for the Spring and Fall colored dogs.  There is so much to do, so much to worry about, so much that demands my attention.

King David, author of the Psalms, was in the midst of a great deal of conflict and trouble when God spoke to him.  God reminded him that He is the Lord, and in control of all things. Psalm 46 says, “ God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble… “Be still, and know that I am God;””  We live in a world of choices, and sometimes our choices can be overwhelming.  Do I do this or that?  Do I go here or there?  Along with all of our choices, there are so many different pressures to have us do one thing or another.  I can’t tell you to choose gardening over TV.  I can’t tell you whether to choose crinkle-cut fries or julienne-fries.  All I know is that when things seem to be too big, too troublesome, too hard.  I have a God is able to do far more than I need.  His grace extends farther than my sin.  His love reaches farther than my failures.  His peace covers father than my fears. His strength blankets my weaknesses.  I have a God who offers me His presence, but to first I have to quit my striving and sit still.  I have to give up trying to be in command. God wants to be my fortress…I just have to quit running away.  I have to let God be my God.  Well, the weeding is done for the rest of the year, but I’m not heading back to the infomercials.  I’m going to set a spell, and let the presence and power of God wash over me.  As for the paint-sprayer/pizza-oven/ and auto-vac in one?  Sorry, I’ll have to wait until you make it to the dollar store.

Chad

Caller ID

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

At ten years old, my friends and I thought doing prank phone calls was about the worst thing a person could do.  Which is why we did them.  We were daring.  We were black-hearted.  We were Blackbeard the pirate, the desperado Jessie James, and Bonnie and Clyde, all rolled into one.  Yes, from the phone in friend Greg’s kitchen we would ask complete strangers, “Is your refrigerator running?”  After they answered, “Yes.”; we’d shout, “Well, you better go catch it!”   Then we’d hang up and laugh until our sides hurt.   Oh, yes, we were juvenile delinquents, living life on the razor’s edge.  In our felonious hearts we were a half step away from toilet papering the neighbors house, or sneaking into the other neighbor’s pool with our clothes on. You can tell we were bad to the bone.  Somehow by the grace of God, I was saved from my evil ways and saw the light of God’s love and grace.

I tried to call a church member yesterday, but they had changed their phone number and I had dialed the old number.  I received the answering machine of some folks I’d never heard of.   When the message on the machine told me it wasn’t who I was calling, I hung up.  Five hours later, I received a phone call.  “Hello, this is Wally Bygolly (not his real name), and I received a phone call from this number at 2:41 this afternoon.”  My reply was calm, intelligent and professional, “Huh?”  It turns out that my wrong number was Wally’s home, and my call recorded on Wally’s caller ID.  He was checking to see who was calling him.  As I contemplated this exchange I realized one dangerous temptation of youth has been eliminated.  We can no longer anonymously ask the convenience store worker if they have Prince Albert in a can.  Children are safer now. We can rest assured that the phone ringing in the distance is not a preteen waiting to ask you about the state of your appliances, but a tele-marketer wanting you to donate to the “Save the Common Garden Slug Foundation”.  For a small $2,500 donation you will be giving a slug a home, good food, and an education.  Won’t you adopt a slug today?”

Psalm 139 begins with the words, “1 O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.  2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.  3 You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.  4Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.  5You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.”  Despite my youthful wanderings, God loves me.  He knows me, who I am deep down.  There is something wonderful and disturbing about God knowing me that well.  There are times I wish I could shield my heart and my thoughts from Him.  There are times I wish I could hide.  There are other times I want to come to God like a child with a skinned knee goes to his mother.  I want to be known, loved, held.  There is rebellion that lies just beneath the surface of this heart of mine.  At times it bubbles up and shows the ugly side of who I am.  Despite it all, God reaches out.  He loves.  His grace flows.  He enters into this mess I call a life, and I know even without caller ID that God is with me.  He sustains me when I’m down.  He walks with me in the darkness.  He lifts me when I am flailing.  He is there by His Spirit.  And I know,  3 but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isa 40:31)

Chad