I am a gardener.

I do not like digging my fingers into soil or planting vegetables or digging or hoeing or watering…

All the same, I am a gardener.

My crop is ideas and thoughts and notions recorded, lessons shared, interests celebrated, stories told.  The seeds are words, chosen and arranged with great care and sown into the soil of faith in God’s undeserved grace, unending mercy and unfailing love.

I water my garden with prayer, experiences, observations and gleanings, all from sources and places varied and   I don’t do a great job weeding, but the thistles never choke out the entire harvest.

My garden is carefully cultivated to be a holistic reflection of the one who tends to it.  Some of the harvest is sweet and humorous, some bitter (only out of necessity) and to the point.  Some is theologically rooted, some inspirational and devotional.  Sometimes I do not mention Christ by name, but – rest assured – God is always there, either overt or covert or somewhere in between.

The people who partake of the produce from my garden are just as varied as the crops that I share.  Some prefer the words of peace and hope, others the humor, still others the more personal or mundane.  And I love that!  I would have it no other way.

I have been sowing more seed, seeking a greater variety of hybrids and planting a larger garden these days, in the hopes that more will come to my table and enjoy what the fruits of my labor.  You see, all of God’s creation is interconnected and interrelated and truly fascinating to observe,  if we would only take the time to slow down and look.  Observe.  Share.

I am a gardener.  I sow words and reap stories and devotinals and humor and little bits of this and that about my little life, all of it planted with great love and care to be an uplift, a blessing, a source of hope and strength and joy to anyone and everyone who cares to stop by and enjoy.

You are a gardener, too.  What are you sowing?

  Just one week ago, the King made His triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  The people expected a mighty warrior, riding in on a valiant steed, sword at the ready, there to forcibly remove the occupying Romans.   What they got was a Humble Savior, strolling on on a donkey, heart at the ready, there to overcome sin and death.

Instead of attacking the Romans, He overturned the tables of the money changers at the temple.

Instead of being what the people expected, Jesus was the real Messiah.  He was God Incarnate.  And the Jews, who had a preconceived notion of their savior, missed the very Messiah they had been looking for.

When attacked, Jesus did not fight back.  Why should He?  Who is God that He needs to fight against His creation?  Instead, Jesus did what no one expected: rebuked His defender (Peter) and healed the wounded enemy (the Roman soldier’s slave who had just had his ear shaved off).

When put on trial – itself an illegal kangaroo court affair – Jesus did not defend Himself, as one would expect.  Why should He?  Who is God that He needs to defend Himself against man?  Instead, Jesus did what no one expected: He, the most innocent individual to ever wrongly face prosecution / persecution, willingly took the punishment: ridicule, beating and scourging to within an inch of His life, questioning, more torture and, finally, execution by the most excruciating, humiliating method known: crucifixion.

When hanging on the cross, Jesus offered forgiveness to the thief who recognized Him as Messiah.  The learned Pharisees – the ones who should have recognized Jesus for Who He is – were instead the instigators of this horrific end.  They expected He would die in quiet anguish.  But Jesus did not go quietly.  Why should He?  Who is God that man can harm Him or kill Him?  Jesus let out a yell, the skies drew dark as night, the earth shook violently and, at the temple, the curtain to the Holy of Holies was torn in two.  The place in the temple where God (allegedly) lived had been ruined, exposed to the world.

And so Jesus was buried in the tomb of a rich Pharisee.  He had promised to be back on the third day.  But, after seeing the unbelievable violence and apparent defeat Jesus faced, who on earth could believe this man would emerge from behind the one ton plus stone set to seal His tomb?  Yet, the women who went to His tomb found just that: the stone rolled back, the tomb empty, Jesus’ burial clothes folded neatly.  Why should He stay in the tomb?  Who is God if He doesn’t keep His word?  He has no need for lying, for He is truth.  He suffered and died and rose again out love for His children, as the only possible permanent and thorough sacrifice for our sins.

Jesus has never been a predictable Savior.  Why should He?  Who is God that He should conform to man’s ways and ideas and notions?  Do not expect God will do this or say that.  God is God, and He will do what He wants.  His will cannot be thwarted.  And He does not exist to prove or complete our religious notions and expectations.  Rather, we exist to bring glory to God.

We come expecting Christ.  That is more than enough.

 

This is the first time I have ever made charoset, a staple of the Jewish Seder table.  It is basically chopped dates, chopped walnuts, cinnamon and honey.  It is supposed to be more of a paste, but I think this turned out well.

Tomorrow night (Good Friday) our home church is having a modified Seder.  We will be focusing on the Last Supper (yes, I know, that’s Maundy Thursday, not Good Friday, but let’s not get legalistic) and, most of all, on Christ. We will be eating bitter herbs, breaking bread, drinking “wine” (yes, grape juice), reflecting and giving thanks.

Every course on the Seder table is very specifically symbolic, all of it serving to remind those partaking of the freedom the Lord provided.  For the Jews, it is with great emphasis on the Exodus.

But our “Seder” will also focus on freedom: freedom through His grace, freedom through being a slaves to Christ.  For believers in Christ, the charoset reminds us of the sweetness of salvation, the forgiveness of our sins, being bound to the law of grace as opposed to sin.  For the one the Lord sets free is free indeed!

Good Friday is the time to try to get some understanding of just what Jesus did for us – for you, for me – on the cross. To embrace His sacrifice with a depth of gratitude as great as we can muster.  It is a time to realize Who Christ is, why He did what He did on this earth, and why we need Him far greater than we can conceive.

So, tomorrow night, as we partake of the elements and prayerfully seek the Lord, it is my prayer that we find a deeper walk with the Lord.  And as you celebrate this most holy of weekends, I pray that you also find yourself drWn closer to Christ, that the reality of Easter becomes far greater and your heart is filled with joyous freedom in Jesus Christ. 

 

I am an Expatriate Hoosier.  My wife and I left Indiana almost 21 years ago.  You would think the Hoosier would have bleached out of my genes a bit by now.

But no.  I am still a Hoosier at heart.  I still feel the pain when March Madness starts out with five Indiana teams, only to have them all face defeat while our neighbors to the north and south are represented in the Final Four.

I still shake my head at legislation like RFRA and ask myself, “How many more toes does my home state have to shoot off?”

I miss the simplicity and slower pace of rural Indiana life.

And I start to get misty eyed for my Hoosier home.  I find myself watching reruns of IU basketball on ESPN2, or listening to more John Mellencamp than normal, or watching “Hoosiers” (and, for my non-Indiana friends who have seen the movie, Oolitic is a real town in Indiana).

But I have to stop myself.  The Lord has each of us where we are for a reason.  We are meant to be where we are to sharpen – and be sharpened by – the people in our lives and the circumstances we experience.  Had we never left Indiana, we would never have grown.  We would miss out on so much.  Mostly, we would never have had our son Austin.

Besides, you really can’t go back home.  In your memory you can sweetly revisit the past.  And you can always travel back to see loved ones.  But home is never what it used to be because, even though you can’t take the Hoosier out of the boy, Expatriate Hoosiers – and anyone who calls a new place home – grow and learn and change.

Don’t try to go back home.  You can’t live in the past.  Live for today, where you are.  

As for Hoosier basketball, well… there is always next year.

Life begins with a clean slate.  But, almost immediately, that slate begins to fill with experiences and knowledge and observations.  As we travel through life, we grow.  Like a tree, we develop our rings, getting stronger and growing bigger.

Inevitably we face hardships of any number of varieties: loss, abuse, doubts, disappointment, pain, shattered expectations, poor decisions… Some hit earlier in life, some later.  All of them leave scars, marring that clean slate we started with.

Some face lives that are beyond scarred.  They are utterly shattered.  And even when a shattered life is put back together and mended, scars remain.  The fractures and tears still show.

But don’t believe for one minute that there is any shame in those scars.  While the original appearance may be altered, scars can be beautiful, because they are honest.  They tell a story that is at the same time both painful and heroic.

Scars say, “I survived this.”   “I am strong.”  “The Lord is with me – He saved me from _____________” (fill in the blank).

When we are honest about our scars, we bring hope to others.  People who are knocked down by life can draw inspiration from your story and say, “He survived it.  She came out stronger and better for the experience.  I can, too.”

That is what is meant by the proverb, “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17, ESV).  Sharpening doesn’t come from a mere pat on the back, wink of the eye and smiling “Attaboy!”  Not that there is anything wrong with that type of encouragement (I think it should happen more often).

True sharpening comes when the metal is scrubbed and rubbed with an abrasive material, causing friction.  It draws up burrs, but it also removes the dull outer layer and creates a sharper, more beautiful surface.

When we share our stories – when we are honest about are scars – it can be painful.  It isn’t easy to relive those moments of pain and sorrow.  But, in doing so, you are being sharpened through the pain and, more importantly, you are sharpening others.

There is nothing shameful about scars.  While they may have come from less-than-noble circumstances, they do not define you.  The cracks on the surface are marks of strength and hope.  You are not defined by your past.  You are not a victim.  You are not beyond hope.  Your scars are not meant to drag you down with reminders of hurt but to strengthen you with the reminder that you are strong in Christ. Use your scars to help others discover the same strength.

  

Work continues on the devotional project.  I rolled out of bed at 4:30 this morning, feeling quite uninspired and, frankly, a bit apprehensive at the thought of writing a book.  

I realize I need a fresh approach.  I grabbed my stack of index cards and began writing one word on each card.  One word that would make a good base for a devotional article.

And I kept going.

After 75 minutes, I had almost 400 index cards filled.  Nearly 400 words.  Surely there are duplicates in there.  (Did I mention I got up at 4:30 this morning?)

I also have set myself a goal.  This book will be written this year.  It will contain revisions of blog posts I have already written, as well as new pieces.  

I have been writing more and more and feel like I have a decent rhythm going (finally).

This feels good.  This feels right.  Momentum. Ooh!  That’s a good word right there.  I need more index cards.

Prayers and encouragement are always welcome.

Blessings on your day today!

You guys scare me.

Seriously.

Every time I write something and hit “send”, I think, “Oh no… should I have sent that?  Did I sound stupid?  Did I go too far out there?  What if I make a fool of myself?  Was I offensive? Was I inappropriate?  Will my friends distance themselves from me?  Will my parents disown me?  What if I just wrote something so bad, so foul, so poor, that it causes the earth to slow its spin and sag off its axis, so the North Pole is now located somewhere just off the A7 Autobahn near Hamburg, Germany?”

For starters, if bad writing we’re going cause the earth to shift, the polar cap would have covered northern Deutschland long ago.  My writing may not be of publishable quality quite yet but, by gummies, it will be one day.

Still, I think anyone who fancies themselves a writer must face at least a tinge of graphophobia (fear of writing).  Even when I am being facetious I worry about hurting feelings inadvertently.  And when I am in theological mode, do I come across as judgmental?  Or condescending?  

I think what it boils down to for anyone who writes is this: be yourself.  I am a goofball armchair theologian.  I take life too seriously and try hard to find the balance between humour and seriousness.  And then I think of my stepfather’s words and am comforted: “The worst thing that could happen is they’d eat you.  And they aren’t going to do that.”

All I have to offer this world is what God has given me: abilities, gifts, love.  All I can truly, honestly be is me, who God formed me to be.

It’s all any of us have to offer.

So I keep seeking my “voice” in my written words.  I learn to let God’s Word and my experiences (in)form my writing.  I try to give hope, to be salt and light.  I aim to make people think, and smile, and laugh.  I pray to inspire and comfort.  I hope to reach millions – not for my sake, but just to kindle a big fire of joy to a world in desperate need of Love.

Maybe I’m not as scared as I thought I was.

My family does not travel light.  We tend to cram as much of our house as will fit in our van.  Clothes, toys, laptop, dog kennel, dog, more toys, change for the toll booths, books, snack food, pillows, blankets, some more toys, coolers (plural), swimming gear, lawn chairs, fishing poles and tackle boxes, another bag of toys, generator, yak, bricks, industrial belt sander (just in case), bust of Abraham Lincoln, more toys, saddles (even though we don’t ride horses), fifty pound sack of flour, iron skillet, jars of pickled herring, copies of the Magna Carta (just in case), dried meat, hardtack, hyperbaric chamber, toys, toys, toys…

You get the idea.

When I read Luke 9, I shuddered:

1  And he called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, 2  and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal. 3  And he said to them, “Take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money; and do not have two tunics. 4 And whatever house you enter, stay there, and from there depart. 5 And wherever they do not receive you, when you leave that town shake off the dust from your feet as a testimony against them.” 6  And they departed and went through the villages, preaching the gospel and healing everywhere. – Luke 9:1-6 (ESV)

I once left my wallet at my mom’s and practically freaked out.  Not because of the missing billfold, but the 40 minutes I just added to our already 10 hour trip in order to turn around and retrieve it.  (You have to make good time when you travel.)

When I’m trying to wedge a pontoon boat into the open hatch of my van, I’m thinking, “Preparedness!”  And here is Jesus, sending the twelve disciples out into the world with nothing but the clothes on their back.  No change of outfit.  No toll money.  No AAA cards.  No snacks.  No nothing.

The lesson on faith is an obvious one.  But putting it into practice for most of us in the western world is another story.  I believe the point of this particular lesson goes beyond trusting God (although that is a vital component here: trust God for everything, not your wallet or your own abilities).

Trust and humility truly go hand-in-hand.  If we come strolling into town dragging along a ton of luggage, dressed to the nines and talking a big talk about Jesus, how genuine will we come across?  How humble will we really be?

When we’re traveling with Jesus, humility is a vital point.  If we as Christians are not humble at heart, we blow it.  We cannot love if we are not humble.  We cannot reach people who feel that we are (or think we are) above them.  We cannot risk the temptation of wanting to be served.  We have to have a genuine heart of trust in God, humility and love.

Jesus wants to pull us out of our comfort zones.  He wants us to put our trust – fully, wholly, completely – in Him.  Not our net worth.  Not our jobs.  Not our own abilities.  He wants us to humble ourselves, give and accept kindness with gratitude, and love one another.  What we truly need for our life’s journey cannot be earned.  It is a gift from God.  Trust Him and go.

“Everybody is a genius.  But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will lives it’s whole life believing it is stupid.”  Allegedly Albert Einstein said that.  I don’t know where the quote came from, but it’s on the Internet so it must be true, right?

Imagine being the fish in the tree.  How well would you thrive?  Actually, forget thriving.  How could you possibly survive?  The atmosphere would be crushingly toxic for you.  Your gills need water for you to breathe.  Your muscles would begin to contract as you fight to breathe until you finally gasp your last and tumble to the ground.  If suffocation didn’t get you, the fall would.

Yet how many of us fish spend our lives trying to climb a tree? 

The truth is everybody has a purpose – a God given reason to exist, to live.  Every human being is very deliberately and precisely designed by the Creator of all, to fill a particular space and time, interact with specific people, influence and be influenced, help and be helped, love and be loved.

And we have talents to facilitate just those things, to do what God intends each of us to do.  When we fight our natural creation and try to be someone we are not – when we leave the pond we were designed to inhabit in order to shimmy up a tree we were never meant to climb – we are not being true to our created selves, or our Creator.

It could be a career choice.  Maybe a life choice that held you back or moved you away from where you should be.  Maybe these things are really just part of God’s plan to give you wisdom to use in your own life and impart on others.  

If you find yourself climbing a tree when you should swimming free beneath the waves, don’t sweat it.  Find what God designed you to do, who He means you to be, and prayerfully head back to the river.  Let your tree climbing days be over.  If others call you stupid for your decision, so be it.  People thought Jesus was crazy.  (Clearly He was not.). It didn’t deter Him from fulfilling His purpose.  He did not let critics turn His head.

Go ahead.  Run your race.  Follow the passion the Lord has stoked within you.  Be strong and courageous.  Let go of the tree and head for the river!  

I thought I would never see the day.

Seven or eight years ago, in our pre-parental days, I took my beautiful wife out to eat at a nice little Thai restaurant.  The food was delicious, but warm.

Very warm.

Lots of curry paste.

You needed a rhythm to enjoy this heat: deep breath, take a bite, exhale flames, swig some milk, repeat all over again.

Very tasty, but very spicy.  It was exactly what I had always expected Thai cuisine to be: food that would make you sweat like you had just run five miles through Bangkok at high noon in August.

My wife’s dinner that night was my lunch for the next couple of days.  I ended up going through a Burger King drive thru to get her something to eat.

“Never again,” she swore.  “Never again.”

Last night we had dinner at Ketsana’s Thai in Plymouth MN.  We haven’t stepped foot in a Thai restaurant in all these years.  I could tell my wife was nervous about it (she kept repeating the fact that she had been told there was Chinese fare on the menu, and she clung to that promise like a drowning woman to a log).  In fact, had we not been going out with my son’s gymnastics team and parents, she would never have set foot in a restaurant with the word “Thai” in it.  The mere mention of the word makes her forehead start to sweat.

Thanks to Ketsana, my wife is no longer afraid of Thai food.  In fact, our dinners were so wonderful, we will be returning.

Jennie had the beef and broccoli.  She said the sauce was light and a little sweet.  It was a wonderful compliment to the meat and vegetables, and did not overpower.  She savored every morsel.

Jen also got a pot of the best hot tea I had tasted in a long time.  Very gentle.  (Before last night, the best tea I had ever tasted was at the White Swan Hotel in Guangzhou.  We asked our server what brand it was, thinking we would bring home some of this fantastic tea from China.  The lady very enthusiastically led us over to the bar area and showed us the huge box of tea – imported from France. So much for the best Chinese tea on earth.)

As for me, I ordered the Roast Duck Curry, mild (above).  (You can order your dishes mild, medium and hot).  The curry had some bite to it, but was just warm enough that it added a little zing to the dish.  The sauce (made with coconut milk and red curry paste) was smooth and sweet and absolutely comforting.  The duck was tender and delicious.  The whole dish practically melted on my tongue.  And the basil leaves gave it a special added touch of taste.

The kids dove into the noodles, cream cheese puffs and Chicken Satay like nobody’s business.

The next time you’re hungry for some Asian food, give Ketsana’s a try.  (I’ve already decided to try one of her pad noodle stir fries on my next visit.)

The prices are good, and the food is delicious.  Ketsana’s gets the Austin thumb’s up (and that ain’t easy!)

Thank you Ketsana!  Now I can take my wife out to a Thai restaurant again.

http://ketsanasthai.com/