This blog is actually from the book "The Open Table - An Invitation To Walk With God" which releases with Thomas Nelson in August. Its a Donald Miller project. It is designed for small groups with two films and accompanying guidebooks. I had the incredible honor of writing the second guidebook - well I wrote it first, then the editors did the editing. Due to the way the project was set up I had no involvement in the editing.
This was meant to introduce the chapter titled "On Earth As It Is In Heaven." I think this would have been better than what ended up being edited in. But that's why we have blogs right? I actually will be posting several of the cuts in my blog over coming weeks.
Buried Treasure
Matt 13:46 “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.
There was once a fella who knew of a treasure that was buried in a field. This treasure was greater than any treasure any mind could conceive. It was beyond imagination. The treasures name was “The Way, The Truth and The Life” (John 14:6).
This fella was so excited about the treasure that he sold everything he owned - right down to the clothes on his back. He gave all that he was and all that he had and naked he went to his field. He began to dig. And there he found his treasure and it was a Kingdom. It was a greater Kingdom than I can describe but I will try nonetheless.
This Kingdom was built on love. In fact, the King of this Kingdom was love (1Cor 13:13). The Kingdoms greatest power was found in joy, which was engaged through believing. Everything about the Kingdom was good. There was no evil in the Kingdom, not even a single drop - not a sliver. There was no sickness or sadness in this Kingdom and because this Kingdom was founded on love, all sorrow was redeemed and restored to joy. In this kingdom all things always worked to good. (Rom 8:28)
Amazingly, this fella, the one who went digging in the nude, well, he became an heir and citizen in this Kingdom. In essence, he was reborn and became a new creation taking on the very nature of His King - love. He was given new clothes and they fit him like a glove. These clothes were righteous and this fella was marvelous to behold because he had the love of His King in Him. Because he became an heir, this fella had access to every aspect of the Kingdom.
This Kingdom had a creed. It was known as the good news. The King spoke it often and the fella’s heart leaped with joy to hear it! It went like this “Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt 6:10).
This next part may seem odd but it is true and truly astounding – over time this fella who became an heir of the King, well, he found that wherever he stepped the King and His Kingdom went with him. Then one day it dawned on the fella that this is why he existed – to know the Kings love and to establish his Kingdom of Love wherever he went…
Ok, I don’t know if you guessed it yet but that fella, he’s me. But wait there’s more. I would like to suggest that the fella, well, he is also you…
At the age of five I found my treasure. I gave Jesus all of me and I asked him into my heart. At that moment, I became an heir of the King and I gained citizenship to the same Kingdom I just described. Since then I have been discovering just how amazing this King and His Kingdom is. Since then, I have been discovering what it means to be an heir of the King and citizen of His Kingdom.
Some refer to this moment in a person’s life as “salvation.” Yep, that’s a good word for it. But it’s not just a moment. Since the age of five, I have been learning that Salvation is the most beautiful of life’s miracles. I once was dead, now I’m alive! I once was clothed in self-centered ignorance, I’m now clothed in love and righteousness. I once was a citizen of a fallen kingdom, I now am a citizen of Heaven (Phil 3:20). What makes the miracle of salvation so much more amazing is the fact that it doesn’t end there. Our salvation is not the end of our story; it’s the beginning of a new one.
If I may put it this way, after saying yes to Jesus, salvation is not only the answer, it’s the question. The question salvation asks is, “how shall we now live?” Most of my life I have understood salvation as an assurance of heaven after I die. Well, yes, that’s true, but I’m discovering that there’s so much more. You see, I am saved to bring heaven to earth while I’m alive.
Just like that fella who bought the field, I have met the King and am taking on His identity as my own. I am becoming love and because of this love, I have His creed burned on my heart… “Thy Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.”
I believe that if you have asked Jesus into your heart, the journey from here on is about discovering the Kings love, who you are within the context of that love and how to live out that love daily.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Mexican Hamburger, The Beach, & A Moral?
The Mexican Hamburger
Karen had to be as exhausted as I was. We had flown all night up from Mexico City. Our flights had been substantially lower in cost if we flew out of Toronto, so even though it was a three hour drive from Rochester NY, that’s what we did.
It had been a great mission trip and we were ready to be home and snuggle into a real bed together. We were newly married and had spent a week sleeping in separate tents cause the missionaries we went with were apparently from the 1800,s and “we didn’t want to have any appearance of impropriety,” whatever that means.
We had spent a week up in the hills of a small Mexican town and had been a part of a medical mission. Seeing as neither of us had any credentials in that department we spent our days in practical serving and prayer. We spent our nights freezing in our flimsy sleeping bags, alone. Though the weather was a perfect 70 degrees in the day at night it was colder than a naked Eskimo…Now if only I could make money writing similes...
Karen had also played a large role in preparing our meals with the local women. We had a great time with the name of each of the meals as every meal had the same ingredients, tortillas and beans. Tortilla pancakes for breakfast, with beans! Tortilla sandwiches for lunch, with beans! And tortilla hamburgers for dinner, with beans!
When the mission was done we caught a bus back to Mexico City for our flight home. Needless to say, we all were ready for a good meal at a restaurant. The missionary leading the trip took us to one of his favorite spots before heading to the airport. The menu was in Spanish but its pretty obvious if your looking for it, hamburguesa.
The other thing that had been haunting my cold lonely dreams for a week, hamburguesa!
I asked our team leader if he thought the hamburgers were safe to eat. He shrugged, “Yeah, they should be fine.”
The hamburger didn’t taste right but I ate it anyway. Why? Cause it wasn’t tortillas and beans, I guess; and also, I trusted our team leader.
We caught taxi’s to the airport and after several hours waiting on the tarmac because of mechanical difficulties, we finally headed home.
As I already mentioned, it was an all night flight in which neither my new bride or myself could sleep. We finally arrived in Canada and said goodbye to everyone we had missionary-ed with. Then we caught a shuttle to our car and started the three-hour drive home.
I wasn’t feeling good, I was dizzy, light headed and exhausted but figured it was due to the sleepless night, not bad hamburguesa. Even though I could hardly keep my eyes open I told Karen I would drive; it’s what new husbands do. She let me, its what new wives do.
Karen drifted off. About half an hour into the drive I had already used every tick I knew to fight sleep. The exhaustion seemed oddly overwhelming. I couldn’t understand why. I had done much longer trips with less faintness. At one point I almost pulled over to ask Karen if she would drive. But I thought, “If I’m this tired, she must be as well.” So I soldiered on. We were driving in a flat farmland section of highway when I saw it. It was out in the field to the right of the highway.
It was a rabbit. But this was no ordinary rabbit; it was three stories high and about half a football field long. It was bright pink and it was made out of marshmallow. It looked like a Peeps. You know, those marshmallow candies that are sold during the Easter season.
At first I was awed by the sheer size. Then I became terrified as it looked at me and jumped once, twice and landed directly in front of our car. I jerked the steering wheel violently fishtailing the car onto the right shoulder while slamming my breaks bringing the car to a screeching halt.
Karen woke up screaming. “What? What happened?” I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, the rabbit was still there. It just sat there, in the middle of the road, watching me. “What happened? Did we get a flat? Are you OK? JASON?!”
I finally looked at Karen and said, “A huge pink peeps bunny just jumped out on the road in front of us.” And then “I think you better drive”…
The Beach
A year and a half ago we went on a family vacation to the beach. At the time Eva was two. Weeks before going on this vacation the whole family told her about the ocean. The entire drive to the coast we told her about the ocean. She was primed for big water. When we checked into the 30-story beachfront hotel we immediately went out onto our balcony 18 stories up to finally show Eva the unending body of water. Her eyes took it in and she understood. The ocean was big.
If you have been on vacation with small kids at a beach then you know it can easily take an hour from the moment you decide to go swimming to the moment you actually leave the hotel room. Especially if you have Anglo Saxon skin like we do. Bathing suites need to go on, boogie boards need to be gathered, towels need to be accounted for and sunscreen needs to be lathered in generous amounts upon every surface that could even possibly see sun.
Along the way, the kids become almost unbearable. There understanding of “be patient” is waiting 3 minutes between asking when we were going swimming. While we prepared Eva got caught up in her older brother and sisters euphoric expectation. The kids would run to the balcony and look at the “osen” as Eva called it and laugh. Then they would find us to ask if we were ready and when could we go.
Finally it was time to head out. We stared out the door and I called for Eva. There was no response. I walked through the Hotel rooms and found her naked in the master bathroom trying to get into the tub. I asked her what she was doing and she said, “Bath daddy.”
My daughter wandering through the rooms, upon seeing the bathtub, forgot about ocean. She had removed her bathing suite and was preparing for a bath. She was more than willing to trade the ocean she had not experienced for the familiarity of the tub.
Water is water right?
Suddenly God spoke to my heart and said, Jason the promises I have for you are the size of the ocean, don’t get distracted by bathtubs.
A Moral?
Just cause you are hungry for a hamburger doesn’t mean you should eat the first one available. And further more, if its not tasting right, for goodness sake, stop eating it.
And
Not all water is created equal.
Karen had to be as exhausted as I was. We had flown all night up from Mexico City. Our flights had been substantially lower in cost if we flew out of Toronto, so even though it was a three hour drive from Rochester NY, that’s what we did.
It had been a great mission trip and we were ready to be home and snuggle into a real bed together. We were newly married and had spent a week sleeping in separate tents cause the missionaries we went with were apparently from the 1800,s and “we didn’t want to have any appearance of impropriety,” whatever that means.
We had spent a week up in the hills of a small Mexican town and had been a part of a medical mission. Seeing as neither of us had any credentials in that department we spent our days in practical serving and prayer. We spent our nights freezing in our flimsy sleeping bags, alone. Though the weather was a perfect 70 degrees in the day at night it was colder than a naked Eskimo…Now if only I could make money writing similes...
Karen had also played a large role in preparing our meals with the local women. We had a great time with the name of each of the meals as every meal had the same ingredients, tortillas and beans. Tortilla pancakes for breakfast, with beans! Tortilla sandwiches for lunch, with beans! And tortilla hamburgers for dinner, with beans!
When the mission was done we caught a bus back to Mexico City for our flight home. Needless to say, we all were ready for a good meal at a restaurant. The missionary leading the trip took us to one of his favorite spots before heading to the airport. The menu was in Spanish but its pretty obvious if your looking for it, hamburguesa.
The other thing that had been haunting my cold lonely dreams for a week, hamburguesa!
I asked our team leader if he thought the hamburgers were safe to eat. He shrugged, “Yeah, they should be fine.”
The hamburger didn’t taste right but I ate it anyway. Why? Cause it wasn’t tortillas and beans, I guess; and also, I trusted our team leader.
We caught taxi’s to the airport and after several hours waiting on the tarmac because of mechanical difficulties, we finally headed home.
As I already mentioned, it was an all night flight in which neither my new bride or myself could sleep. We finally arrived in Canada and said goodbye to everyone we had missionary-ed with. Then we caught a shuttle to our car and started the three-hour drive home.
I wasn’t feeling good, I was dizzy, light headed and exhausted but figured it was due to the sleepless night, not bad hamburguesa. Even though I could hardly keep my eyes open I told Karen I would drive; it’s what new husbands do. She let me, its what new wives do.
Karen drifted off. About half an hour into the drive I had already used every tick I knew to fight sleep. The exhaustion seemed oddly overwhelming. I couldn’t understand why. I had done much longer trips with less faintness. At one point I almost pulled over to ask Karen if she would drive. But I thought, “If I’m this tired, she must be as well.” So I soldiered on. We were driving in a flat farmland section of highway when I saw it. It was out in the field to the right of the highway.
It was a rabbit. But this was no ordinary rabbit; it was three stories high and about half a football field long. It was bright pink and it was made out of marshmallow. It looked like a Peeps. You know, those marshmallow candies that are sold during the Easter season.
At first I was awed by the sheer size. Then I became terrified as it looked at me and jumped once, twice and landed directly in front of our car. I jerked the steering wheel violently fishtailing the car onto the right shoulder while slamming my breaks bringing the car to a screeching halt.
Karen woke up screaming. “What? What happened?” I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, the rabbit was still there. It just sat there, in the middle of the road, watching me. “What happened? Did we get a flat? Are you OK? JASON?!”
I finally looked at Karen and said, “A huge pink peeps bunny just jumped out on the road in front of us.” And then “I think you better drive”…
The Beach
A year and a half ago we went on a family vacation to the beach. At the time Eva was two. Weeks before going on this vacation the whole family told her about the ocean. The entire drive to the coast we told her about the ocean. She was primed for big water. When we checked into the 30-story beachfront hotel we immediately went out onto our balcony 18 stories up to finally show Eva the unending body of water. Her eyes took it in and she understood. The ocean was big.
If you have been on vacation with small kids at a beach then you know it can easily take an hour from the moment you decide to go swimming to the moment you actually leave the hotel room. Especially if you have Anglo Saxon skin like we do. Bathing suites need to go on, boogie boards need to be gathered, towels need to be accounted for and sunscreen needs to be lathered in generous amounts upon every surface that could even possibly see sun.
Along the way, the kids become almost unbearable. There understanding of “be patient” is waiting 3 minutes between asking when we were going swimming. While we prepared Eva got caught up in her older brother and sisters euphoric expectation. The kids would run to the balcony and look at the “osen” as Eva called it and laugh. Then they would find us to ask if we were ready and when could we go.
Finally it was time to head out. We stared out the door and I called for Eva. There was no response. I walked through the Hotel rooms and found her naked in the master bathroom trying to get into the tub. I asked her what she was doing and she said, “Bath daddy.”
My daughter wandering through the rooms, upon seeing the bathtub, forgot about ocean. She had removed her bathing suite and was preparing for a bath. She was more than willing to trade the ocean she had not experienced for the familiarity of the tub.
Water is water right?
Suddenly God spoke to my heart and said, Jason the promises I have for you are the size of the ocean, don’t get distracted by bathtubs.
A Moral?
Just cause you are hungry for a hamburger doesn’t mean you should eat the first one available. And further more, if its not tasting right, for goodness sake, stop eating it.
And
Not all water is created equal.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Megan & Haiti
My brother Joel and my Sister In-Law Megan are in Haiti today. Megan has been keeping us up to speed on what they are doing and the needs Haiti is facing. We have all been praying for them and have been believing for favor on what they are doing there. Below is the email I received this morning from Megan.
****
Hi again,
Another good morning. I am a little hazy today and very dirty but looking forward to the day.
I spent a lot of yesterday trying to mobilize food aid and nutrition support for a hurting commune/city called Leogone that has not received the medicines, vitamins and food they need. We visited a tent city and heard about the destruction and visited a hospital we partnered with that's been destroyed (I'm writing a grant to rebuild this one) there. We lobbied UNICEF, WFP and USAID for help. The good news is that we have made progress in Leogone and will begin distributing food and formula in the next 2 days, God willing.
Joel has been (with his camera) in the middle of food distributions, talking with the staff, in camps, with medical teams. Its wonderful to be here together.
I need to get started with work now. Lots of love from us,
Megan and Joel
****
Today is Megan's birthday and I was reminded of a note I had written for her last year for her birthday. I thought it pretty applicable for today. The note is below.
****
The fact is, Meghan can do everything and most of it all at once.
For instance, she could dismantle an atomic bomb while preparing Pan-Roasted duck breast, steamed root vegetables and speckled butter beans for a party of ten, while playing Mancala – the 7000 year old Arabic board game - with her husband, while explaining the rules to her husband and then lovingly tolerating his pathetic attempts at cheating... These are the kinds of things Megan can do…
While thinking about Megan, my mind returned to an article I had read recently. I immediately went online and found it. Though the article is not written about Megan, it reminded me so much of her that I thought I would put some of it here.
Please note that I have added to the article in order to better highlight the similarities between the woman being written about and Megan. The changes are (bracketed and in italics.)
Here is the article,
"Jaime Sommers (Megan Nykyforchyn Clark) is nothing but a hard-working woman juggling work as a bartender (International Programs Director) and the responsibility for the care of her younger sister, Becca, (Her husband, Joel).
Although she does not have much, Jaime (Megan) has always enjoyed being as normal as any other human being. However, this all changed when she is hit by a car and seriously injured (when she was born and decided to be awesome).
Following a nearly fatal car accident, (Following her decision to be awesome) Jaime (Megan) receives cybernetic implants, known as bionics. These implants give her superhuman strength and speed, allow her to hear at low volumes and over uncommonly long distances, and gives her 2000/20 vision and mathematical analysis of objects, their speeds, trajectories and so forth................"
Isn’t it amazing? It is uncanny how similar she and "The Bionic Woman” are!
****
While we would all love to be with them, we have been praying for both Megan and Joel and have been living through them. Here is a link to World Hope the organization Megan works with - World Hope This is a great place to give regarding Haiti!
Below are a couple pics Joel posted recently on his FB
Today I pray for Haiti and for Megan and Joel. Today I pray that You will bless Megan with Bionic strength and give here a powerful birthday miracle. In the name of Your Son and my best friend Jesus, Amen
Happy Birthday Megan!
****
Hi again,
Another good morning. I am a little hazy today and very dirty but looking forward to the day.
I spent a lot of yesterday trying to mobilize food aid and nutrition support for a hurting commune/city called Leogone that has not received the medicines, vitamins and food they need. We visited a tent city and heard about the destruction and visited a hospital we partnered with that's been destroyed (I'm writing a grant to rebuild this one) there. We lobbied UNICEF, WFP and USAID for help. The good news is that we have made progress in Leogone and will begin distributing food and formula in the next 2 days, God willing.
Joel has been (with his camera) in the middle of food distributions, talking with the staff, in camps, with medical teams. Its wonderful to be here together.
I need to get started with work now. Lots of love from us,
Megan and Joel
****
Today is Megan's birthday and I was reminded of a note I had written for her last year for her birthday. I thought it pretty applicable for today. The note is below.
****
The fact is, Meghan can do everything and most of it all at once.
For instance, she could dismantle an atomic bomb while preparing Pan-Roasted duck breast, steamed root vegetables and speckled butter beans for a party of ten, while playing Mancala – the 7000 year old Arabic board game - with her husband, while explaining the rules to her husband and then lovingly tolerating his pathetic attempts at cheating... These are the kinds of things Megan can do…
While thinking about Megan, my mind returned to an article I had read recently. I immediately went online and found it. Though the article is not written about Megan, it reminded me so much of her that I thought I would put some of it here.
Please note that I have added to the article in order to better highlight the similarities between the woman being written about and Megan. The changes are (bracketed and in italics.)
Here is the article,
"Jaime Sommers (Megan Nykyforchyn Clark) is nothing but a hard-working woman juggling work as a bartender (International Programs Director) and the responsibility for the care of her younger sister, Becca, (Her husband, Joel).
Although she does not have much, Jaime (Megan) has always enjoyed being as normal as any other human being. However, this all changed when she is hit by a car and seriously injured (when she was born and decided to be awesome).
Following a nearly fatal car accident, (Following her decision to be awesome) Jaime (Megan) receives cybernetic implants, known as bionics. These implants give her superhuman strength and speed, allow her to hear at low volumes and over uncommonly long distances, and gives her 2000/20 vision and mathematical analysis of objects, their speeds, trajectories and so forth................"
Isn’t it amazing? It is uncanny how similar she and "The Bionic Woman” are!
****
While we would all love to be with them, we have been praying for both Megan and Joel and have been living through them. Here is a link to World Hope the organization Megan works with - World Hope This is a great place to give regarding Haiti!
Below are a couple pics Joel posted recently on his FB
Today I pray for Haiti and for Megan and Joel. Today I pray that You will bless Megan with Bionic strength and give here a powerful birthday miracle. In the name of Your Son and my best friend Jesus, Amen
Happy Birthday Megan!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Mom
This Christmas we all - Moms husband and kids - put our thoughts about Mom into writing. Then we took bets on who would make her cry more and who would get more laughs... Aimee assembled all the writings into a book and Mom is probably still reading. It was both amazing to write about mom and to read what the rest of my family wrote as well. As far as who won, I would like to say it was me -
Since this is my blog... yeah, it was me.
Here is what I wrote -
Mom,
I wanted to first of all take credit for this astounding idea of writing about how my Mom has greatly impacted our lives. I choose to believe that it was my idea to put into words just how special she is to us and present it to her on Christmas. I also want to note that she was my Mom first. Sure there were others… but lest we forget, there is only one first…
I am still a boy. By this I mean that when it comes to Mom and Dad, I will always be their boy. I have a boy of my own; I have two girls as well, so I can testify to this statement.
A boy needs a dad. My Dad is the best and I think he’s the best because he married up. A boy needs a mom as well. My Mom is also the best and I think it’s for the same reason. I know that doesn’t make sense but stick with me.
I believe that a generation has the privilege of standing on the shoulders of the previous. If Dad didn’t have Mom or Mom, Dad, well, I wouldn’t be standing so tall. However, they do have each other and not only are they better for it, this boy can touch heaven.
Mom and Dad are a living legacy of love. Over the years I have witnessed that love through better or worse run toward the promises of God. Along the ways they have collected some amazing stories.
Often the family will get together and we will remember the stories. Its funny cause during these times, Dad often gets most of the press. I think its because Mom is his publicist. Mom is a good publicist – the best. She is mine as well… and yes she works for the others too. Until I met Karen, Mom was my fiercest advocate; she championed me like no other.
Today I want to model Mom – I want to be her publicist…
Mom pulled into the driveway. I was playing in the backyard – probably army but that information isn’t needed for this story. I met her at the back of the car. Our tan station wagon was full of groceries. Probably a hundred dollars worth, that’s what Mom told me she had spent one time. For a boy who made a dollar-fifty cutting the grass, a hundred might as well have been a million.
Mom carried two bags in through the back door and I followed with one of my own. She had bought fruit roll ups! I went back outside to discover what was in the remaining bags and was shocked to see that the car was moving. Our driveway went from the street past the house and then declined ever so slightly toward the garage. The station wagon was headed straight for the garage doors – we were moments away from a tragedy.
Someone had to do something and quick or… or… the garage doors and the tan station wagon would collide. The devastation would be... devastating.
Without thinking I ran to the car. Jumping in front of it, I braced myself for impact. Then I placed my hands on the hood and put all my 90 pounds to work. At first, the car won. I lost ground at a fairly rapid pace but my mom hadn’t raised a quitter. Ever so slightly the car began to slow down. But would it be enough?
The garage doors where getting dangerously close. Suddenly, it dawned on me, if I couldn’t stop the car I would be crushed between it and the doors. I began to panic. I doubled my effort. It was a Western New York fall day but I was sweating, grunting, groaning, straining.
It was working, it was gonna be close.
My heel struck the garage door and with one last hysterical push I willed the car to stop… and it did. The front bumper came to rest against my chest, my back against the garage door. I had done it!! The euphoria, the victory, I had saved the day! I would be touted as a hero, thanked by my Dad and praised by my Mom… Mom was screaming… mom is screaming. Mom is mad… at me?
“Jason! What are you doing!”
“I saved our car mom.” I said, proud and confused at the same time. This wasn’t the kind of reaction I had been expecting.
Mom seemed pretty upset. “What were you thinking!? What on earth were you thinking?”
“I saved our car, I saved the garage.” I said, a little less certain. I was pretty sure that a new garage door cost more than a hundred dollars but was starting to think one of us was missing something.
Looking back, I get it, I have a son of my own…
When Mom came back out to get more groceries, the car wasn’t were she left it - instead it was rubbing up against the garage. And there was her boy, goofy grin, bight eyed, in between a tan station wagon and the garage doors.
Mom laughs when I tell the story now. Then she again reminds me of how foolish I was. In fact, Mom, I know that while you read this, you will get nervous all over again. And that’s why you are so astounding…
Even though I am twenty-five years removed from this incident my mom carries it. Her gratitude and prayer follow me everywhere. Her thanks to God is probably offered in the same breath as her contending for my continued safety.
Mom isn’t big on boyish adventure. And at first glance you might think she isn’t a risk taker. That she merely married one and then raised five. But you would be wrong. Mom has modeled steady faith all her days. It’s her steady faith that has kept us through the shakey seasons; first as kids, then as teens and singles and now as moms and dads ourselves…
Mom knows God and Mom stands on His promises. There is no greater faith than this. And Mom has made sure that we knew the promises as well. Around the same time that I heroically saved the garage doors and the tan station wagon, my mom gave me a promise.
"They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor."
It’s my scripture, its my promise; it’s for the others as well.
It’s from Isaiah 61; Mom read verses 1-3 to me one evening after church. All three verses are beautiful, filled with promises of Gods goodness displayed through the lives of his people. But the verse that jumped out at me that day, the verse that Mom made sure I got, was the one about becoming an Oak of righteousness planted by God for His glory.
“Jason,” her tone was serious, like when she wanted me to really believe her, like when she told me not to climb over the stair railing. “God gave me this scripture for you. God told me that you would grow up to make Him proud. That you would become a strong man, a good man, a man of faith.”
An oak is a strong tree, a beautiful tree. I liked that promise as a boy and I still do. I am madly in love with God, I have become a worshiper and I am learning faith. Thank you Mom…
Mom has been a person of great promise. I could use the word purpose or destiny but promise is the best fit; promise suggests faithfulness, it implies relationship. Mom has modeled a life of profound faith and deep relationship. She has loved God first and always. She has loved Dad best and because of this she has released a legacy of love to her kids and their kids and their kids kids…
Mom’s life and the promise she nurtured in me… and the others; its led to a faith that has allowed a boy to know that with God all things are possible.
I am still a boy – at least, I am still Moms boy… Like all boys, I’ve always been in a rush to grow up. Along the way, I’ve had adventures. Sometimes there have been tan station wagons headed for garage doors. Sometimes it’s almost seemed as if the station wagon won, and sometimes I hear Moms voice echoing the past “what were you thinking.” But all along the way, Moms promise has kept me. I am an Oak of righteousness planted by God for his good pleasure. Because of Moms faithfulness, I have learned that Great Oaks, well, they stop tan station wagons every time.
Thanks mom, for teaching me how to love, how to dream and how to be faithful, Thanks for speaking and living the promises of Gods good love over my life and for contending on my behalf. Your love has been immeasurable.
I love you back, Merry Christmas.
Your Boy…
The First…
Since this is my blog... yeah, it was me.
Here is what I wrote -
Mom,
I wanted to first of all take credit for this astounding idea of writing about how my Mom has greatly impacted our lives. I choose to believe that it was my idea to put into words just how special she is to us and present it to her on Christmas. I also want to note that she was my Mom first. Sure there were others… but lest we forget, there is only one first…
I am still a boy. By this I mean that when it comes to Mom and Dad, I will always be their boy. I have a boy of my own; I have two girls as well, so I can testify to this statement.
A boy needs a dad. My Dad is the best and I think he’s the best because he married up. A boy needs a mom as well. My Mom is also the best and I think it’s for the same reason. I know that doesn’t make sense but stick with me.
I believe that a generation has the privilege of standing on the shoulders of the previous. If Dad didn’t have Mom or Mom, Dad, well, I wouldn’t be standing so tall. However, they do have each other and not only are they better for it, this boy can touch heaven.
Mom and Dad are a living legacy of love. Over the years I have witnessed that love through better or worse run toward the promises of God. Along the ways they have collected some amazing stories.
Often the family will get together and we will remember the stories. Its funny cause during these times, Dad often gets most of the press. I think its because Mom is his publicist. Mom is a good publicist – the best. She is mine as well… and yes she works for the others too. Until I met Karen, Mom was my fiercest advocate; she championed me like no other.
Today I want to model Mom – I want to be her publicist…
Mom pulled into the driveway. I was playing in the backyard – probably army but that information isn’t needed for this story. I met her at the back of the car. Our tan station wagon was full of groceries. Probably a hundred dollars worth, that’s what Mom told me she had spent one time. For a boy who made a dollar-fifty cutting the grass, a hundred might as well have been a million.
Mom carried two bags in through the back door and I followed with one of my own. She had bought fruit roll ups! I went back outside to discover what was in the remaining bags and was shocked to see that the car was moving. Our driveway went from the street past the house and then declined ever so slightly toward the garage. The station wagon was headed straight for the garage doors – we were moments away from a tragedy.
Someone had to do something and quick or… or… the garage doors and the tan station wagon would collide. The devastation would be... devastating.
Without thinking I ran to the car. Jumping in front of it, I braced myself for impact. Then I placed my hands on the hood and put all my 90 pounds to work. At first, the car won. I lost ground at a fairly rapid pace but my mom hadn’t raised a quitter. Ever so slightly the car began to slow down. But would it be enough?
The garage doors where getting dangerously close. Suddenly, it dawned on me, if I couldn’t stop the car I would be crushed between it and the doors. I began to panic. I doubled my effort. It was a Western New York fall day but I was sweating, grunting, groaning, straining.
It was working, it was gonna be close.
My heel struck the garage door and with one last hysterical push I willed the car to stop… and it did. The front bumper came to rest against my chest, my back against the garage door. I had done it!! The euphoria, the victory, I had saved the day! I would be touted as a hero, thanked by my Dad and praised by my Mom… Mom was screaming… mom is screaming. Mom is mad… at me?
“Jason! What are you doing!”
“I saved our car mom.” I said, proud and confused at the same time. This wasn’t the kind of reaction I had been expecting.
Mom seemed pretty upset. “What were you thinking!? What on earth were you thinking?”
“I saved our car, I saved the garage.” I said, a little less certain. I was pretty sure that a new garage door cost more than a hundred dollars but was starting to think one of us was missing something.
Looking back, I get it, I have a son of my own…
When Mom came back out to get more groceries, the car wasn’t were she left it - instead it was rubbing up against the garage. And there was her boy, goofy grin, bight eyed, in between a tan station wagon and the garage doors.
Mom laughs when I tell the story now. Then she again reminds me of how foolish I was. In fact, Mom, I know that while you read this, you will get nervous all over again. And that’s why you are so astounding…
Even though I am twenty-five years removed from this incident my mom carries it. Her gratitude and prayer follow me everywhere. Her thanks to God is probably offered in the same breath as her contending for my continued safety.
Mom isn’t big on boyish adventure. And at first glance you might think she isn’t a risk taker. That she merely married one and then raised five. But you would be wrong. Mom has modeled steady faith all her days. It’s her steady faith that has kept us through the shakey seasons; first as kids, then as teens and singles and now as moms and dads ourselves…
Mom knows God and Mom stands on His promises. There is no greater faith than this. And Mom has made sure that we knew the promises as well. Around the same time that I heroically saved the garage doors and the tan station wagon, my mom gave me a promise.
"They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor."
It’s my scripture, its my promise; it’s for the others as well.
It’s from Isaiah 61; Mom read verses 1-3 to me one evening after church. All three verses are beautiful, filled with promises of Gods goodness displayed through the lives of his people. But the verse that jumped out at me that day, the verse that Mom made sure I got, was the one about becoming an Oak of righteousness planted by God for His glory.
“Jason,” her tone was serious, like when she wanted me to really believe her, like when she told me not to climb over the stair railing. “God gave me this scripture for you. God told me that you would grow up to make Him proud. That you would become a strong man, a good man, a man of faith.”
An oak is a strong tree, a beautiful tree. I liked that promise as a boy and I still do. I am madly in love with God, I have become a worshiper and I am learning faith. Thank you Mom…
Mom has been a person of great promise. I could use the word purpose or destiny but promise is the best fit; promise suggests faithfulness, it implies relationship. Mom has modeled a life of profound faith and deep relationship. She has loved God first and always. She has loved Dad best and because of this she has released a legacy of love to her kids and their kids and their kids kids…
Mom’s life and the promise she nurtured in me… and the others; its led to a faith that has allowed a boy to know that with God all things are possible.
I am still a boy – at least, I am still Moms boy… Like all boys, I’ve always been in a rush to grow up. Along the way, I’ve had adventures. Sometimes there have been tan station wagons headed for garage doors. Sometimes it’s almost seemed as if the station wagon won, and sometimes I hear Moms voice echoing the past “what were you thinking.” But all along the way, Moms promise has kept me. I am an Oak of righteousness planted by God for his good pleasure. Because of Moms faithfulness, I have learned that Great Oaks, well, they stop tan station wagons every time.
Thanks mom, for teaching me how to love, how to dream and how to be faithful, Thanks for speaking and living the promises of Gods good love over my life and for contending on my behalf. Your love has been immeasurable.
I love you back, Merry Christmas.
Your Boy…
The First…
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Skating In The City - Part Two
Check out this video, the quality is poor - it was taken on my phone - but its worth the watch. No one was injured in the making of this video.
Skating In The City
Poppy - Dad - has great ideas! If it wasn't for him we wouldn't have as many stories. Yesterday we went skating in the City. Thanks Poppy.
Here are some pics, for more check out my facebook.
Here are some pics, for more check out my facebook.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Primal
"To love God is to love His voice." Mark Batterson - Primal
I started reading Mark Batterson's new book "Primal" last week. Its Christmas and life has been busy, challenging and wonderful all at the same time. Honestly, regardless of Christmas, that statement applies. I am in a season where God is very close but hearing His voice has been difficult.
One of my hero's, Bill Johnson, was on a conference call with about a hundred of us the other day. He was talking about hearing and discerning Gods voice. The voice of God has been my one pursuit this year. However else God has revealed Himself to me, via the Bible, nature, my beautiful Karen, my kids or friends, I am most interested in His personal and intimate voice - the one of a kind voice He has for me, the voice only my heart can hear.
So I asked Bill during the conference call - via instant message - how to hear God in a season where He is close but His voice seems distant. Bills response was simple. "Go back to the things you did when you first heard his voice." Essentially what Bill was saying is, go back to the wonder of your earlier times with God, the places you first fell in love and start there.
Primal is a book that encourages both the brand new believer and the battle scared saint to always remember their first love - the voice of God. Marks passion is that we would awe at the wonder of God; that we would see not just with the natural eye but from heavens perspective. And mostly, Mark seeks to release a deeper revelation regarding Gods beautiful voice - how to hear it, how to know it, how to fall in love with it again.
I would most definitely recommended the book!
Merry Christmas all and may you hear Gods good and intimate one of a kind voice for you in this coming year!
I started reading Mark Batterson's new book "Primal" last week. Its Christmas and life has been busy, challenging and wonderful all at the same time. Honestly, regardless of Christmas, that statement applies. I am in a season where God is very close but hearing His voice has been difficult.
One of my hero's, Bill Johnson, was on a conference call with about a hundred of us the other day. He was talking about hearing and discerning Gods voice. The voice of God has been my one pursuit this year. However else God has revealed Himself to me, via the Bible, nature, my beautiful Karen, my kids or friends, I am most interested in His personal and intimate voice - the one of a kind voice He has for me, the voice only my heart can hear.
So I asked Bill during the conference call - via instant message - how to hear God in a season where He is close but His voice seems distant. Bills response was simple. "Go back to the things you did when you first heard his voice." Essentially what Bill was saying is, go back to the wonder of your earlier times with God, the places you first fell in love and start there.
Primal is a book that encourages both the brand new believer and the battle scared saint to always remember their first love - the voice of God. Marks passion is that we would awe at the wonder of God; that we would see not just with the natural eye but from heavens perspective. And mostly, Mark seeks to release a deeper revelation regarding Gods beautiful voice - how to hear it, how to know it, how to fall in love with it again.
I would most definitely recommended the book!
Merry Christmas all and may you hear Gods good and intimate one of a kind voice for you in this coming year!
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