YWAM Memorial

The memorial for the two YWAMers murdered late last week was everything you would want it to be. It was deep, it was shallow, it was funny, it was sad--we laughed and we cried. A lot.

Phillip's father and sister spoke, as well as a couple of friends and his pastor. All essentially painted a picture of the Phillip I knew. He was zealous about life, and whatever he jumped into, he went in all the way--over his head. He did and tried things because he wanted to see if he could do them. If he thought he could, he went after it, no matter what.

I was deeply moved by Tiffany Johnson's family and friends, who spoke of a young woman that loved widely and freely, and who lived fully. I wish I had known her. I was jealous that I hadn't.

One other marvel. Tiffany's family (there must have been fifteen people on the stage) revealed that they were that afternoon meeting with the father and mother of the murderer. They were going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Murray that they were not responsible for their son's actions, and that the Johnson family in no way held them accountable. Further, Tiffany's family had forgiven their son for his heinous act.

Dear God, what love. Clearly, the Johnson family knows God--what He's like and how He works and how He loves in us and through us.

These are wonderful, marvelous people, and that was obvious at the memorial. As difficult as it was, I loved the day.

Despereaux Is Gone

Emma was magnificent. I told her I had something difficult to tell her, and that I wanted her to trust me about it.

She teared up, got a little perturbed with Despereaux ("He always tries to get out--bet he wishes he hadn't now. . ."), and we prayed together. "Jesus, we know you care about everything. So we ask that if it would be great with you, would you heal Despereaux? And if it would be better for him to go on, would you make it easy for him?"

She was great and settled with that.

She then looked at him (I had prepared her) and talked with him--"Ohhhh, Despereaux, I'm sorry you got out. . ." She also talked with Chester ("Don't lie on him, Chester! He's not well. Get off Despereaux!"), and did the best she could to get it all secure. I took her to school.

Chuckling to myself, I called the Vet. She said I could bring him in and that they would comfort him and/or put him out of his misery, but I opted out. It's not that he's just a gerbil; after all, he's Emma's gerbil. It's that I thought he had as good a chance here as he did there.

And Despereaux just now died.

So, we'll have more time together after Emma gets home from school. This isn't easy, but it's a kind of good. Emma and I were together in Despereaux's rescue, and we'll be together in this, too. I won't tell her what to feel or what to say, but we'll talk. I'm sure we'll navigate fault and blame, and, hopefully, remain in the knowledge that God is correct about this life--it often doesn't work. So we've got to know Him and help each other through the hurt.

We'll do that.

Emma's Despereaux

Well, it seems Emma's going to have to go through some trauma after all, and I'll be with her in it. Despereaux got out again, only this time our dog met him and did what you'd suppose a dog would do.

I have yet to tell Emma, who is sleeping late today before school. I am about to go and wake her and tell her. The Spirit has been telling me to simply be with her in this, so that's what I'll do, humbly and meekly. My hope is that we'll know God together in this.

I'll post back and share how it goes.

Ugh.

Memorial

Well, I'm off to the memorial for the YWAM people killed by Matthew Murray early Sunday morning. I expect it to be a somber, yet terrific morning with God's people acknowledging the sovereignty and grace of God.

I'll post later to tell you about it.

It's OK To Pick A Nose

For some it's OK to pick your nose, don't you think? Not for me, not for you. . .but for some.

Pleasing Judge Daddy

I caught my daughter trying too hard to please me. I didn’t like it.

One day last week I noticed that most every approach she made to me included a desire for something other than to please me. She had come to doubt that I was pleased with her simply because she was actually pleasing to me. So she began the ugly attempt to earn it.

She cleaned up her breakfast stuff (plates, containers, glass, etc.) and announced loudly, “Well, that’s done.” She told me she was mad at one of her classmates that doesn’t believe in Jesus, but who instead believes in the elephant God. “He’s such an idiot! I mean, c’mon—the elephant god?! That’s ridiculous. Right, dad?” She offered to get me a glass of water and to bring the morning paper to me. And she chattered incessantly about topics and viewpoints she thought I’d like. It was like she was creating evidence and at the same time verbally building a really strong case that she was, in fact, pleasing. “Here’s the evidence before you, Judge Daddy, and here’s why it’s proof that I am pleasing.”

What really got my attention was that I began to grow weary of being with her. I thought, “Good thing school starts in a half hour.”

Now, I absolutely love my daughter—I know it, and so does virtually anyone and everyone around the two of us. Ask them, they’ll tell you. It’s obvious. But what I didn’t like was what was happening to my girl because she wasn’t sure, having been listening to the mind of the flesh, or to the whisperings of the enemy. Her approach and involvement with me was no longer because she just had to be with me, you know, really wanted to be with me because it meant fun and goodness and delight and laughter and unity. She came to me to prove something—“See, daddy? I’m good. I’m faithful. You like me, right?"—as if I didn’t agree with her.

I know there are lots of people who would say, “Well, Ralph, you haven’t been spending enough time with her, you haven’t had enough quality time with her, you need to brush-up on your daddy skills.” But I didn’t care about any of that, neither did I sense the Holy Spirit saying it to me. (I think we too often out-think the Spirit, instead of just wanting to know what He’s saying and doing.) I wanted to be with my girl, so I spent what seemed like all day with her on my lap. We watched movies and silly kids shows, ate breakfast and lunch together, talked about her friends and not-so-much friends, and more.

And you know what happened? She figured it out. Now she seeks me out when we’re home together (she was just in my lap five minutes ago) because she likes being with me, and she knows I like being with her.

Moral of the story? I think we sometimes get used to approaching God while wondering the same thing—“See, Daddy? I’m good. I’m faithful. You like me, right?” If we don’t hear or sense anything bad from God, we move off, settling for half satisfaction. I want to suggest that you forego the effort to prove to God that you’re good or lovable or faithful—“See, Daddy?”—and that, instead, you ask God what He thinks of you. He’s really good at loving us without our having done anything to deserve it. Remember? Didn’t He love you like crazy before you had done anything good anyway? I’ll bet the same thing goes for now, too. You've got nothing to prove, nothing to earn.

Believing that we need to prove ourselves to God sets us up for a lifetime of fear and distance from Him. We may come to believe that He only likes us after we’ve done something heroic or Biblical, but not until, not unless. And that’s nuts.

So, how about approaching God as though He loves you at least as much as He did before you were His, before He made you holy and blameless, as well as the home in which He now dwells.

Have a go at it, and see what Daddy does. I bet you'll be pleased.

All Grown Up

This is Philip Crouse, a man I knew who was murdered early this morning, Saturday, Dec. 8. While I didn't know him well, I spent some three days with him and fifteen or so other leaders at the YWAM Arvada base last spring while teaching my series, "Putting Amazing Back Into Grace." I knew him to be a funny, zealous, and quirky kind of guy, who also had a deep interest in language and the grace of God.

Back in April he shared with me that he was headed to Kazakhstan, whenever God brought that about. And I am told that in the last six months or so, he was really growing up in Christ.

Think how grown up he is now.

And Now, More

There has now been a shooting at a church about an hour and a half south of the YWAM base, at New Life Church near Colorado Springs. I know people there, too, one of whom was on security detail this morning. He left the lot not five minutes before the shooting, and has now turned around and gone back into the pursuit and investigation. (His name is Gene--pray for him?)

Whew.

Have to wonder if they're related more than on the spiritual side of things. . .which is THE side of things.

What will come of this? Hmm. . .

Oh, No.

This is tough.

I received a call at about 1:00 a.m. this morning from a dear friend and staff member at the YWAM base in nearby Arvada, CO. She told me that four staff members had just been shot by an intruder. Looking out her window from across the street, she described a surreal scene of police and dogs combing the neighborhood, which had just received five inches of snow.

In phone calls since, I learned that a young man I knew had been murdered, as well as a young lady. The two who were wounded, while critical, are in stable condition.

Would you pray about all this?

The effects will be as far reaching as you can imagine. Because I have a close and longtime relationship with a number of people at the base (including two great friends and members of our home church), I may be visiting with them in the days ahead.

One of them emailed me this morning and included this note:

I can't help but remember that in worship on Friday we were called to step out for prayer to declare if we were prepared to do what it took for the Kingdom - even to death!! Who would have thought that a young white American missionary, in America itself, would be killed on the mission field for being in charge of hospitality.....a day later?!!!

Wow. Our battle is a spiritual one, and this brings it home, even to my doorstep.

I'll post back when I know more.

When Dog-Lovers Go Too Far

Since I posted a cartoon a couple of weekends ago that poked fun at cats and those who love them, I thought it fair to post a video that provides oft-demanded balance. We must be balanced, mustn't we?

Well, no.

However, here's one for the cat-lovers. . .(Secretly, I think the dogs in this video are really cats in disguise--don't you?)

Have a great weekend--it's snowing where I live.

Our In-House Jail Break

I’m sitting in my study when from upstairs comes a terrible scream. A real ripper. Only Emma and I are in the house, so I’m out of my chair with all the adrenalin needed to blast a rocket off the earth. I don’t even remember running up the stairs to my screaming Emma.

As I rushed to her bedroom door, she yelled, “Despereaux is out of his cage and loose in my room! Daddy!” And I thought, “Ah, ha. One of her gerbils has broken out.” You should know that my family is one of those rare groups which thinks mixing animals that like to eat meat with those that would rather remain off the menu is a great idea. We’ve already been through one catastrophe—our dog killed Ellen’s prized parakeet when it fluttered within reach of her mouth—so I knew that event was playing on my daughter’s inner movie screen. Why wouldn’t it be? (Click here to read that story.) Closing her bedroom door behind me, I stuffed a towel into the gap between carpet and door in order to block Despero’s exit.

For the next six hours (well, it was only about ten minutes, but it seemed a lot more), we prayed together and all the while lured Emma’s gerbil with soothing words, outstretched hands, sunflower seeds and promised rest from his traumatic day.

Looking back, it was strangely fun. While muttering our hopes to Jesus—“Oh, Lord, will you rescue Despereaux? Will you guide him into our hands? Would you be a part of this?”—we watched that cute little rodent scurry about the room, dart in and out of our hands, pluck food from our fingers and run under the bed—universal safety, I think. As God would have it, Emma finally secured Despereaux herself, and placed him back in his cage, which she then fortified and secured like a bank vault.

Ten minutes later, Emma was at school with a terrifying story to tell her classmates. Me? I just now ran upstairs to make sure that little rat is still in jail.

I’m lately aware that faith is so practical, and that God is determined to exercise it with us. To Him it’s normal. To Him it’s how we live, only sometimes we’re not so normal. I’m thankful today that He is working in everything for us—even with little gerbil breath, Despereaux—and that my daughters are living well and becoming normal with their faith. We talked to God together during that harrowing experience, and because we were sowing to the Spirit thereby, we reaped in the moment God’s life and production of peace, patience, gentleness and self-control—and a little joy. Emma giggled even before we’d captured her little escapee.

Emma and I will chat about Despereaux’s jail break this afternoon, and I’ll ask her what she felt during the gerbil hunt and capture. I’ll ask if she felt some of the fruit of the Holy Spirit as we talked and wished our desires to God. I know she did because my little girl knows God, and she knows where He lives—in her. So, I want to help her understand and comprehend what it feels like to be a vessel in her day, with God moving about within her. What a thrill that is.

Even during a jail break.

We’re better off than we think.

Ralph

Breaking Good Fleshly Habits

“But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code.” (Rom 7:6 NIV)

It should be evident that those of us under the influence of the flesh may look particularly bad, or we may look particularly good. And that’s a more difficult thing to see and a more difficult thing from which to turn. But it’s just as fleshly, just as foreign, and just as dangerous. I might appear to be the most faithful church attender in the world, but I might be doing it because I fear God will bless me only if I do, and not at all if I don’t. So, I go…under the influence. I don’t mean to imply that regular church attendance is a bad thing; it isn’t! It’s just that under the influence of the flesh, it becomes the thing. Going to church gets the greater influence—not knowing God. The evidence might include condemning thoughts and feelings toward those who fail to attend as regularly or I might frequently and strongly encourage others to attend as the solution to their lack of blessing, or, perhaps, I take a leadership position on the “Let’s-get-the-church-to-church-on-time-every-Sunday” committee. I’m active, but I’m nevertheless fleshly.

Under the influence, I’m not free to ask and trace out the godly and good reasons for going to church, sowing to the Spirit who might lead me here or there, finding His gifts in me to do this or that, and helping me to live by faith. Instead, I’m captive to what looks right and to what ought to be, and that’s where the flesh is found.

Fleshly activity is not you, but something which influences and drives you—it will become much more evident having read this chapter. Should we now run off and point out each other’s flesh types? Be very careful because the flesh may be motivating you to do that and not the Spirit. It’s not hard to imagine the fun you could have with this new knowledge. That could become as fleshly a lure as anything else—resist the nibble by pausing to offer yourself to the Holy Spirit.

“Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.” (Gal 5:25-26 NIV)

The flesh is not you, but it would like to provide a way for you to look. If you follow its tin lure of promised control, it will behave through you. You know how that will look and feel, and you want to be done with it. Now that you know better, now that you believe life “by the Spirit” is both possible and desirable, chances are good you’ll refuse the bait and go for the Spirit.

(Excerpted from my book, "Better Off Than You Think--God's Astounding Opinion of You"; chapter 7, Hitting My Pause Button.)

Stolen Copper Clappers

I hadn't seen this for a couple of years, but I was sure glad when someone sent it to me recently. I loved Johnny Carson's attempts to keep a straight face, and this is one of my favorites.

It's an oldie and a goodie. I think you'll like it.

Whew.

I just returned from an unexpected spiritual adventure--my prayer life was exercised.

One of my daughters and I, along with two of her friends, were traveling to a rocket launching site about an hour and a half away when the driving conditions suddenly became terrible. We were in a caravan going to a school sponsored event, and the road turned to ice. No one could stop--it was like driving on an ice skating rink. Fortunately for me, all six cars ahead of me in the caravan took the same amount of time to finally come to a stop on the side of the road. What should have taken twenty to thirty feet, took about fifty yards.

With The Beatles, "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" rocking the car, I quietly said, "Lord, Jesus--I need you. I need you to stop my car. . .I need you to help me. . ." My daughter figured out that we were in trouble, and joined me in prayer. With the music off, the girls in the back seat clued-in, too. We slid and slid and slid, always in a straight line. Finally, we stopped.

We decided to cut the field trip short and turn around, but on the way back we found that one of the last cars in our caravan had slid across the road and rolled over. Fortunately, everyone was fine--amazing. (The back and other side of the car pictured at left were destroyed.) All the way back we crept along at about 5-15 mph, and saw about ten more accidents, four of which were horrible.

Loaded with people, sliding on ice in a car is a terrible feeling and predicament.

My daughter, Ellen, and I will not soon forget today. And we'll not soon forget our shared prayers to Jesus in a really difficult time. In the end, I think today will serve us well, not only because we were rescued, but because we were together in such focused prayer.

How Do They Do This?!

Well, it's the weekend, and that means I get a bit loose around here, posting all kinds of things that stretch the credibility of this blog's stated purpose. Hope you're okay with that--I am.

I've seen quick-change artists before, but nothing even close to this. When I first received it from a friend, I only began watching it because he always sends good things to me.

I was really glad I did. You will be, too.