2012 Remembered

The year some said would usher in the demise of humanity has, itself, come and gone. It’s become a habit for me, as every year I reflect on my fondest memories of the last twelve months…

#10: Springles Retreat
April in Deep Creek was chilly—not only outside, but inside too. The cold stares that we and another couple got from thirty-seven single adults literally made me shudder. These “Christians” were not very love-filled, and it was obvious. I mean, just because the retreat was billed as an event where every single would be paired off with a “spouse” didn’t give them the right to be evil. Turns out the weekend-long exercise of “marriage” was a lot of fun for everybody and a great object lesson. We’re still trying to find ways to top that one. For most, only real marriages will do the trick.

#9: Chasing Oprah
My good buddy, Greg, came to visit back in the spring, and I happily played chauffer/tour guide to NYC. He, Cam and I drove down a cross street on the backside of Radio City Music Hall, when we were halted by a security barricade. The billionairess, in the flesh, was making her way through the cheering crowd, signing autographs en route to an awaiting black suburban—the one ten feet in front of me. They must have thought my SUV was part of her entourage, because they moved the barricade only seconds after she hopped in. I don’t know what came over me?!? Before I knew it I was in hot pursuit through Midtown Manhattan—all the way to her hotel. Crazy, but oh my, to call this “fun” is such an understatement. Check it out here.

#8: Thanksgiving
Spending turkey day in Florida is becoming a tradition for us—especially after this year. My sister’s family along with our dear friends, the Greens and the Maynards, had a similar idea. Backyard swimming in November and hanging out with Mickey made for a great vacation. But sharing a feast with eighteen of your family and close friends is something for which I was truly thankful.

#7: COEBA
The 19th Annual Conference on Evangelizing Black America is always an exciting gathering at our church. This year’s COEBA was most memorable perhaps because it almost didn’t happen. Violent thunderstorms caused unprecedented power outages during the hot summer weekend prior. Temperatures approached 110°. It was unlike anything we had seen here. But thankfully, the power came back on in time. The Conference was electrified, literally and figuratively. Topped it off with an overnight in NYC with my new brother, Andrew Garcia, and his wife Kayla. An amazing week!

#6: MM
The Miracle Mansion Project remains my great passion. It was 2006 when the idea came about, and each year it has moved closer to fruition. With a new site that is ten times larger at a fraction of the cost per acre, the growth of this Project in 2012 is mind-blowing. Huge financial blessings and an opportunity to connect with some very capable people made this an unforgettable year. And we’ve only just begun.

#5: Visits
Those who know me know that “I just love people.” (Inside joke). Truth is I love to be surrounded by people I love. Who doesn’t? I traveled less in 2012 than in years past, but it was a year when people I don’t see often came to see me (ok, us). I can’t think of too many things better than that. Sondrew was here twice—in the summer and at Christmas. Just seems right when he’s here. Bsanti came and spent a crazy five-day weekend with his pops. Can’t wait for that permanent move☺. So loved having OMY here—was like old times, with long, late, deep, couch convos. And Diana blew in from the windy city just to remind me how much I miss her. Visits, wonderful. Goodbyes, not so much.

#4: Easter
These Sundays are usually special—wait, isn’t “usually special” an oxymoron? Anyway, Easter 2012 topped them all. My brother preached an incredible sermon on the Cross entitled, “The Man In the Middle.” The 45-minute invitation that followed brought a host of people down the aisle for salvation. It was one the greatest services I had ever experienced. We left with a poignant reminder of God’s grace through Jesus’ sacrifice. Still gives me chills. Matt, Lana and Maddie Cretzman—our sweet friends—were there too. A day like that made it that much easier just to love on them.

#3: MM Production
This wasn’t the first time we brought the Miracle Mansion Play to stage, but it was the first time on this scale. A two-story set with the structure of a small house. Trap doors. Falling demons. A mechanical lift. This was a major undertaking for us. Truth be told, it was hugely successful in every way. God blessed it beyond our expectations. Yet, I said to myself, “Never again.” When I learned that my niece, Zoe, trusted Christ as a result, I knew that it was worth it all. But still, never again. Not until the real MM is built.

#2: Cam
When our kids were born we looked forward to shopping for baby clothes, having fun at the playground and birthday parties. On the flip side, I envisioned the day when they would graduate from college, tie the knot and have children of their own. What I never anticipated was the moment at which the transition from child to adult would unfold before my eyes. That happened in 2012. He’s only 17 (still not sure how I used “only” and “17” in the same sentence), but Cameron became, at least to me, a man last year. We talk about so much. His heart is tender for God and for others. He is talented beyond comprehension. And though he still kisses me goodnight, I am acutely aware that he’s not a little boy anymore. I have mixed emotions—the lion’s share of them being pride and gratitude. Let’s hope Casey won’t become a “woman” for at least another ten years. She’s only 15.



















#1 Granddaddy
I have many, many memories of Lynn Baldwin—from the time he helped me find the kid who stole my Big Wheel to the road trip we took to Cincinnati. He was a larger than life presence, not physically, yet in practically every other way. Holding his hand during the final hours of his life was surreal. Not sad, just surreal. I felt proud. Blessed. Special. I tried to recall every memory. Prayed for a possible miracle. Thought about Grandmommy. Marveled at how good he looked at 102 and on his deathbed. Wondered if I had his long-life genes. It was a remarkable day. The coolest day. The apex of 2012 for me.

All in all I’m thankful for these and for millions of other occurrences last year. Many I prefer to forget--but whether over mountains or through valleys, God brought me through. Just like He does every year.

It's Beginning To Look A lot Like Christmas... A Little?

(From Dec. 18, 2010)

Last night I chauffeured some friends into the city. We were in search of Christmas lights. This is a tradition that usually helps to put you in the "spirit" during this time of year.

Having lived in the DC area all my life, I've learned where the really good spots are. There are some incredible tucked-away neighborhoods--far and away from the monuments--that have been known to draw crowds of gawking light-seekers every year.

So we cruised the curvy stretch through Rock Creek, looped up onto Connecticut into Woodley, passed the Zoo, cut over to Wisconsin near the Cathedral, drove through Tenleytown over toward American U and down into the Rockwood neighborhood. (Yes, you can be impressed with my knowledge of upper NW). Strange thing though. Coursing through these established neighborhoods, we were quickly aware that there were practically no Christmas lights this year. Sure, we saw a few wreaths and there was a decent offering of decorated trees in bay windows. But the relatively few homes that actually donned lights on the outside stuck out amidst a sea of dark streets. And many of these displays were tacky at best, looking as if they were just thrown up. Pun intended.

Needless to say we were quite surprised at the sadly lackluster showing of Christmas cheer in our Nation's Capital. We chalked it up to the recession. Tough times seem to suck the seasonal cheer out of folk--at least to the point of cutting back or cutting the decorations altogether.

Of course, as believers we know that true Christmas spirit is not based on the economy. Real joy comes from knowing Jesus. And it's not a seasonal thing. It's joy that the Bible calls "unspeakable" and "neverending." And it's a joy that should be on display for all to see.

Have you ever been guilty of not shining during tough times? I have. Have circumstances, situations, or relationships persuaded you to keep your spiritual lights tucked away in the basement? God help us! It's during the difficult and dark times that we most need light!!! Not just for the benefit of those watching, but for ourselves as well, for we too need to be reminded that with Jesus, there's gonna be a brighter day.

Be encouraged. No matter how bad it gets, you will always have that Light within. The world didn't give it, and the world can't take it away. So show off your Light and let everybody know that Jesus is never in short supply.

Merry Christmas!

Wow. That Was Quick!

It's over. Just like that. Once again, Christmas came and went. All the anticipation, the decorating, the shopping excursions and gift wrapping--and it's gone. Just like that.

This reminds me of life. We put a lot emphasis on "things" like homes, cars and careers. We plan. We work. We do so much to obtain and maintain these all-important staples of our existence. But they have little shelf life. They don't last, nor provide enduring fulfillment.

Since life is so short, why not concentrate on things that really matter? Why waste precious time and energy on stuff that won't outlive you on earth, let alone eternity?

What are the things that last, you ask? Relationships last. Lives last. People last. Not much else. Let's face it. Unless you're investing in someONE, everything you do is gonna burn like wood, hay or stubble. It's a wise thing to put our effort into things that will ultimately benefit PEOPLE.

There IS one other thing we can concentrate on for ourselves. Romans 12:2 tells us, "And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God."

A mind is a terrible thing to waste. That's why God tells us to keep it clean, focused, refreshed each and every day. Nothing profound here, just simple, daily meditation on the Word (Joshua 1:8), and guarding against bad influences. So simple, yet many of us fail miserably, ultimately causing us to lose sight of the will of God and begin chasing after wood, hay and stubble.

Everybody asks, "Did you have a good Christmas?" And everybody pretty much answers, "Yes!" But if your life ended today could you say you had a GOOD LIFE? Did you accomplish what you wanted to? Were your dreams fulfilled? More importantly, were you in the will of God?

Life comes and goes really quick. Make it count. You could spend a lifetime trying to figure out what's best for you--and still fail! So don't try! Renew your mind EVERY DAY to stay plugged into the will of God. Then, pour yourself into others. Although Christmas is over, you'll find yourself giving and receiving all year long.

Behind Door #1...

Morning Sings:)

If there's anything that characterizes my life these days, it's that I am faced with having to make choices more than ever before. It used to be, or so it seemed, that things pretty much worked themselves out each day. I would wake up, interact with my family and people around me, work or go to school, then tackle whatever the day would bring. Wasn't always easy, but it was a lot more predictable than now when--or so it again seems--the outcome of my day, my week, my life is determined by the decisions and choices with which I am confronted. I guess it's a part of life... A part of getting older??

I have to be honest with you, sometimes it's really not fun. There are days when I wish I could go back to the time when somebody else was calling the shots. Especially on those days when the fog dissipates and I realize how much I've messed up. At some point each of us is faced with making tough choices. There are real-life decisions we must make that may seriously impact our lives. How do you deal with that difficult decision? Do you tend to put it off, hoping it will miraculously work itself out? Do you try to squash that sinking feeling in your gut by thinking good thoughts to divert your attention from the quandary at hand? This works for a minute, until the feeling returns stronger than ever, and the choice remains. Been there.

"Yea, they have chosen their own ways," is what God said of His people in Isaiah 66:3. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD." Isaiah 55:8. In other words, if we don't apply some God-sense to our lives, we can fully expect to make the wrong decisions. The natural choice is typically the wrong one. So how do we fix this?

First, Principle. What does the Bible say about this? What is God's will? What does HE want? (Ps. 111:10; I Pet. 5:5-6; Rom. 16:27) It seems like a simple thing, yet it's remarkable how many Christians make choices without ever consulting God! Perhaps they think being saved and going to church and being around good people automatically protects them from stupidity. False. You will never make a bad decision based on the Bible. And know this. God will NEVER EVER EVER, lead you to do something that is contrary to His Word. Never. Period.

Second. Prayer. "...oh what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer." This is yet another area that is so basic yet often overlooked. Prayer still works! Have you considered the fact that God may be withholding the solution simply because He wants you to spend time with Him? What a difference it would make if we got on our knees and didn't get up until we heard from God! (Phil. 4:6: I Thess. 5:17)

Third. Persuasion. Even as this decision is ultimately up to me, it shouldn't be made alone. "Where no counsel is, the people fall: but in the multitude of counsellors there is safety." Prov. 11:14. Don't do it by yourself. Get good counsel from people who walk with God and have demonstrated their own ability to make tough choices. "He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed." Proverbs 13:20

Fourth. Practicality. Sometimes we are so guided by our emotions that we fail to stop and ask ourselves, "does this even make sense?" We get headstrong and make up our mind from the get-go without taking the proper steps to the right decision. Sometimes you don't have the luxury of time to act. But hasty decisions and those made in the heat of the moment can be life-shattering. "...and he that hasteth with his feet sinneth." Proverbs 19:2

Fifth. Peace. This is that settled spirit, that sense of calm assurance that only God can give. He promised to give it to us when we do our part. And there's nothing like it! Have you experienced it? "And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

Sixth. Pursuit. This is the important last step in the decision-making process. Move forward. Follow through. Just do it. It's too bad that some arrive at the right conclusion but fail to put it into action. What a waste! How dumb is it to do the homework and not turn it in? Once God makes the way clear, don't hesitate. Jump in with both feet. Stop making excuses. Go for it. Remember, you never know how long the door will stay open for you. "...Seek peace and pursue it." Proverbs 34:14

Hey, this is good stuff, not because I said it, but because God did. I am striving more than ever to put these into action. Hope you will too. There's nothing quite like knowing you made the right choice.

To Be or Not To Be? That's One of the Questions.

It’s that time of year again when America cozies up to the practice of “giving thanks.” Thoughts of appreciation emerge from dinner-table discussions. Well-produced TV commercials tug at our emotions. Yes, as the calendar hits about the third week of November, the question of the day becomes, “What are YOU thankful for?” as all of a sudden the world seems to be on a mission to prove its sufficient attitude of gratitude.

Have you ever considered that urging people to articulate their thankfulness may be just a little useless? I mean, can you force someone to be thankful? Do I need to be reminded to be thankful? Does talking about my blessings improve my “thankfulnessability?”

Furthermore, how do you even define “thankfulness?” Ok, maybe it’s appreciation for an object or objects in one’s life. So then, how would you define “appreciation?” Maybe, a feeling of … well, hm...

…I was about to say “thankfulness.” But that's no good.

It’s obvious that thankfulness is much easier to experience than it is to describe. I may not be able to put into words what I feel, but I know exactly what it feels like to be thankful. The point is simple. We are told, most notably, by God to GIVE thanks. But we can’t honestly GIVE thanks unless we can first BE thankful. Thankful is not as much something I “do” as it is something I “am.”

“I can’t explain it. I can’t obtain it. Jesus, Your love is so, it’s so amazing.”

And think about this. Thankfulness is a natural reflection of God—the Object of our gratefulness. We are thankful to Him because of Who He IS—not just because of what He DOES. God is an “IS” God. He is a “BE” God. He’s the Great “I AM.”

Today when we sit around the table and it comes our turn to offer personal musings, wouldn’t it be nice to pass around some honesty? It’d be refreshing if we didn’t have to scratch our brains for something unique or clever to say. Maybe this year the kids won’t roll their eyes at the ritual. Why? Because instead of speaking because it’s the thing to do, we’ll give thanks with a grateful heart—a heart overflowing with unrestrained appreciation.

Don’t just DO thankful. BE thankful☺

Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name. Psalms 100:4

Unforgettable

A weekend ago we were in Lora's hometown of Danville, VA. It was just for the day so she could visit family while I had meetings in the area. The first time I went to Danville was Thanksgiving, 1993. We had just started dating and it was time to "meet the family." Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were country folk, very simple, good people. They took an immediate liking to me, which reinforces the notion of their goodness. After a day or so of small talk I drummed up the courage, as tradition would have it, to pop the question to Lora's dad. "I'd like to have your daughter's hand in marriage, sir." I was young and dumb, so I actually used those exact words. Even now I cringe with recollection. His eyes narrowed as he leaned toward me and in an unflinching tone whispered these words I'll never forget: "That's fine. And I know you a preacher and all, but you better not never beat 'er." Of course, I agreed, and the rest is history.

I grew to love Lora's parents over the years and they became second parents to me. Mom was the kindest, most unassuming lady you'd ever want to meet--always greeting with the most beautiful smile. I was her favorite son-in-law. She told me many times, even though she never admitted it publicly, mostly to save others from disappointment. Pop was crazy. He always bought stuff he didn't need, and told jokes that were only funny because they made no sense. You can see why we were close:). I had the privilege of leading him to the Lord. I can assure you that "privilege" doesn't come close to expressing what I felt on the day he got saved.

Looking back on the years I knew mom and pop, I see all of their best traits in Lora, and even in my kids. They didn't have much, but what they did have, they poured into their children, and into me too. We had great times together and they taught me a lot. I watched them, both of them, die with grace and the peace of knowing that they really had done the best with what they had. So last week we visited the cemetery for the first time. Forgive me if this is comes across morbid, because it was anything but that on this perfect Saturday evening. Just before sunset Lora, Cameron, Casey and me stood on a pristinely manicured grassy hill, laughing and reminiscing about the times we had with them. The height of the rolling landscape put us at eye-level with these huge, irregular cloud shapes that formed an almost-fake looking backdrop from a movie scene. It struck me, at that surreal moment, that we were making memories right then--that this could be a day my kids would talk about when I'm gone. More importantly, things like this will shape the persons they are becoming.

Most of us will not be remembered for "great" accomplishment or some big event in our lives. Our lasting impact may be the smile we give to someone at just the right time, or brief, yet sincere words with long-term implications. Whatever the case, our lives count the most when lived out through other people. It's wonderful to make memories, but even better to make a difference.

No Thanks??

Morning sings! Most of us are still recovering from an incredible COEBA week. Hope you've gotten some rest by now and are back at it- relishing the joys of work, or, whatever it is you do. I had a thought I wanted to share today. It was prompted, in part, by a really nice note a recent houseguest left when he departed. It was basically a heartfelt thanks for our hospitality and a personal expression of what the time in our home had meant to his life. There were specific details mentioned, and it was obvious that he took real time to clearly express the gratitude he felt. The note really made us feel...well, good! There's no other way to say it. It kinda just made my day. It also made me think about the importance of expressing gratitude in our lives. I think we all feel that we are grateful for blessings- to God, to our friends, parents, etc. We often take time to internalize how fortunate we are. But if we're honest, we might admit that we are sometimes lacking in our expression of that gratitude to God first, then to the people who do and give and pray and work for our benefit. We take people for granted, failing to realize our duty to simply say, "thank you." As children we are taught "please" and "thank you", but I've discovered that many people have mastered the "please" part but are flunking out when it comes to expressing gratitude. One of the most encouraging things you can ever do is to passionately and sincerely convey your appreciation for what someone does that impacts you. It never gets old! It can make all the difference in their day. AND it helps you to better appreciate and recognize the blessings in your life and to avoid developing a sense of entitlement. The late Walter Hawkins coined the words to the classic song, "be grateful." I might go a step further and say, "ACT grateful." Tell them. Show them. Never be mistaken for an ingrate! "In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." I Thess. 5:18. Love u guys. PM

Morning Shake

Don't we just love Fridays? There's something special about this day of the week. We anticipate a get-together with friends, plan a little shopping excursion, or, simply look forward to a few extra hours of sleep. Fridays create a happy outlook, in welcome contrast to the controlling regimen of the workweek. On the weekend **I** am in charge! I decide what I do. I even get to go to church. Yup, the weekend is about power. It's about control. 

So how much "control" do we really have in our lives? Case in point. When the ground under my house started moving shortly after 5 am today--was I in control?? The 3.6 magnitude earthquake that rattled the DC area this morning was not a part of my plans, or anyone else's. But it happened! I was sitting at my kitchen table. When the rumbling started, I looked outside, wondering why the trash truck was making so much noise! It was all over in 20 seconds, and I forgot about it, until a friend asked me a few hours later if I had felt it. 

The point is simple. We plan and map out our day. We anticipate things based on our priorities. But the reality is that God is categorically in control of not only our weekend, but our entire existence. It's great to have plans, but we should always live with the understanding of His power and ability to orchestrate the events of life and to alter our to-do lists according to His Master Plan. When we submit to HIS will--the unanticipated and often misunderstood events in life may surprise us, but they won't leave us shaking because we know Who's got the whole world--even my world--in His hands. Love you guys. PM

Just What the Doctor Ordered

Last Sunday night after church we were all hanging around late-like always-laughing and fellowshipping, still on the COEBA high. Soon after, in typical fashion, an overcrowded suv-load of rambunctious, well-dressed people was off to a local eatery to spend my money. Nestled in the group were my kids, Cam and Casey, 15 and 13 respectively (they think they're grown as much as I think I'm young). Cam had been complaining for some time about a sore on his leg that wouldn't heal-so long story short(ened)-we ALL ended up at the ER to get it checked out. We walked through the sliding doors to what resembled a scene from COPS as two officers mirandized a bloodied guy in restraints, right there in the doorway. Colorful language and sudden lunges indicated the suspect's disdain for our staring, so in a "non-Good Samaritan" sorta way, I stepped around the scene to sign in. "C'mon yall," I yelled back to the rest of the crew-my son included-still standing in the doorway pretending they weren't scared. After registering and going back into the ER, the nurse removed Cam's homemade dressing to gasp at the size of the large, oozing sore just above his left shin. We learned that the daily dosing of hydrogen peroxide, despite what we thought, was not helping the situation. The doc soon confirmed that this sore simply needed to be flushed daily with clean water and re-gauzed. It would take time, but this simple, regular procedure would eventually result in complete healing. Thinking about that episode this morning, I'm reminded of Eph. 5:26 where concerning the church, Jesus died "That he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word." Also, Psalm 119:9 which says, "Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? by taking heed thereto according to thy word." People look to different sources to heal the wounds of life. Counsel, books, activity, meditation...these can all be "good" things, but there is nothing, absolutely NOTHING, that can replace the spiritual and emotional balm of the Word of God. Do you have scars that won't seem to heal? Do you have hurt that needs attention? Bathe yourself in the Word! Consistently. Daily. It will take some time. But you will find restoration that only the Great Physician can guarantee.

The Office

I was asked this week about how to cope as a Christian in a very non-Christian work environment. Not all of us are fortunate enough to be surrounded by God's people everyday. (Be thankful if you are!) For the few years that I worked a "secular" job I had to deal with constant profanity, off-color humor and mockery of my God and my beliefs. It was difficult at times and I genuinely hated going to work. There was often the temptation to cower to the constant barrage by simply blending in and not making waves. At other times it seemed like lashing out and telling them "what's what" might be the thing to do. But the counsel I received back then and what I shared with someone this week is simply this: The best way to cure the darkness in a room is to turn on the light. Positivity dispels negativity. Righteousness conquers wickedness. Application? Don't stress about fixing a bad environment. Lost people WILL act lost. (In fact, so do many professing Christians-but that's for another day.) What I'm saying is, don't spend your time being critical of their ways, shaking your head when they cuss, and getting upset at their actions. Turn on the light! Talk about your Lord, your church, your faith, your awesome singles pastor:). Read your Bible on your break time. Invite them church. Politely excuse yourself from the joke circle. Dress well and modestly. Avoid office cliques and gossip. Guard against "too close" office relationships. Get to work early and stay late. Excel at your tasks. Turn on the light!!! You'll be amazed at how much more people respond to what we DO than to what we SAY. One person can make a difference. Most of all, don't be fake. Be real, while mindful that it's not a spotlight for your praise, but for His. "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in Heaven." Matt. 5:16.

Status! Messengers! Report to the Pavilion!

Are you as confused as I am that this year is nearly half done? Oh so baffling is the ever-increasing speed of life.

At the beginning of 2010, or the end of 2009, I laid out 73 personal goals for the next 12 months. If you're wondering about the significance of my favorite number, check out http://www.themiraclemansion.com. This should help ease the irritation of my random, though, remarkably consistent reference to it. Then again, maybe not.

The title of this blog entry is a line from a play scene in which a superior demanded an updated progress report of his workers. I voluntarily took a little time last week to evaluate my 2010 task list as it stands right now. Probably a good thing to do at some point. This is what I found: Out of 73 goals, 26 are completed or well on their way, 11 (give or take) have been initiated but need some work, 29 (give or take) have never met me, and 7 (give or take) have left the building. They aren't goals anymore, or have morphed into something else.

So that's where I am. Much like me, these are a work in progress. Setting goals has been good. Each victory, failure or "to be continued" teaches me a valuable lesson and is an exhibition of my colossal weaknesses in the glaring spotlight of God's infinite power. 

#74: Count on that.


Just a few of the "victories" (among others) that make me giddy...

#3. Bring Lora home from work for good.
She's in her final weeks of teaching. She's ecstatic. Score!!!

#6. Complete my novel.
75%. Up from 2% at the beginning of the year. Hardest, funnest thing I've ever (almost) done.

#41. Get Maureen to DC.
Hm... best way to do this? Offer her a job. It worked! She's coming!

#21. Throw Granddaddy a 100th birthday party.
August 7. All set. 

#9. Improve my prayer life.
Definitely better. Definitely on the list for 2011. 

#13. Be 100% accessible to my friends.
I've worked really hard on this. I think it's going well, but you'll have to ask them.

#40. Increase our Faith-Promise Missions commitment.
Started last Sunday. It really is a great feeling!

A Pillar of Salt I Shall Be

Wow, it's May 8 already, and this is my first blog post of the year. Typically, I might be apologetic, but in my defense, I've taken on a major writing project that will be completed by the end of summer **knock on wood**, so I don't feel terribly bad.

I could not let May 8 pass without recognizing the one-year anniversary of my hospitalization. Revisiting that ordeal is not a pleasant exercise-in fact, I'd much rather forget most things about it. But given the facts that-one year later I am healthy, and I clearly recognize that what could have been WAS NOT-I can truly say that I've been blessed... I've got a testimony! He is worthy! Hallelujah, what a Savior!

In case you're wondering, I feel great. Recovery was 100%. I will always have lymphedema (actually, I always have), but it IS manageable and so, we press on!

I'd like to steal a blog idea from a friend (thanks OMY) and recycle an entry I posted last year shortly after all of this. If it becomes a real blessing to one person who is going through a tough time, then, from my heart I can genuinely say, it was worth it all!

Finally, I am indebted to my family, my Crossroads/COEBA family, friends everywhere and to the doctors and nurses of Virginia Hospital Center-without whom this wimp wouldn't have stood a chance.

Looking back,
PM


"Learning To Lean"
Originally posted Tuesday, May 19, 2009 at 10:46am

About two weeks ago following our Wednesday evening service I started feeling sick. It had been raining that night, and I had been out in the rain more than I should, so I pretty much chalked it up to being a cold. This wasn't good. We had a Homegoing service in the morning and I still had to do the obituary program in addition to participating in the service, so feeling bad was really not an option. So I ignored it. It was about 2 a.m. when I realized that the fever and chills were not going to let me finish, so I decided to go to bed and get up early.

I did go to bed, and I did wake up early--about 4:30 with uncontrollable chills and, eventually a fever of 103F. I'd had the flu before, but what was this?? I had never felt like this before. Lora insisted we go to the ER. I called Dad and Mom to let them know, and to prepare Dad for the possibility that I wouldn't make the funeral. They said to keep them posted and that they would be praying. We got dressed and were headed to the ER about 6 a.m. when my parents' prayers must've kicked in. All of sudden I started feeling better. The chills subsided. The fever broke. All I could think was that this was the Lord allowing me to finish that program and attend the service. And that's what happened. I stumbled back to our kitchen table and by the grace of God completed it and sent it off to church for printing. Praise the Lord!

I walked over to church at 10:55, weak and drenched in sweat, but I made it. The choir was already seated in the loft. I joined the other three preachers in the procession to the platform. The next 90 minutes comprised a beautiful celebration of our dear sister who had gone home to be with the Lord. The choir sang wonderfully, seemingly in tribute. I felt invigorated. I don't know what I would have done had I not been able to witness that wonderful homegoing.

So now that it was over, the logical thing was to go home and get in bed. It had already been a really long day. I now realized that my brief respite from the "flu" was either an adrenalin rush or simply a Samson-esque moment from the Lord, because now, I couldn't move. I sat in the auditorium alone for about an hour. Finally, with Chad's help, I mustered enough strength to walk home. All of the symptoms were back, but worse.

The next hours of that Thursday were a blur as I can only recall tossing and turning all night and wishing for morning. When morning came I started wishing for night. I was miserable and nothing in the medicine cabinet seemed to help. It was around 5 p.m. when I told Cameron that I had to go to the ER. Lora and Casey were out and couldn't be reached. Cam and I headed out. I was so sick I almost let my 14 year old drive. Kidding, but I wished that he could.

When we signed in at urgent care, they handed me a mask. I guess there's still some remaining swine flu paranoia. Staring at the sign that read, "Patients will be seen in order of illness priority" assured me that I'd get some relief soon. Not so. Apparently my indication of flu symptoms was not as critical as "scraped elbow", "sprained thumb", and "banged head."

By now I was having trouble breathing and everything on me hurt. I also noticed my left shoe seemed really tight and my foot swollen. I figured I would ask the doc about that--if I ever got back there.

After two hours they called my name. My good son, determined to not leave his dad's side, followed me back.

Blood pressure-120/68 (terrific). Heart rate-normal. Fever-101F. Drew blood (after six fishing expeditions to find a vein-runs in my family, ouch).

"Looks like you got the flu, son."

He did NOT just tell me that, I thought. I already knew that. I told him about the breathing problems. So I was off to x-ray. The x-ray showed inflammation but nothing abnormal. Blood test came back normal, other than elevated white blood count which they thought was consistent with a virus.

"Wow! how long has your foot been like this?"

Like what?, I thought. I was now back in the ER bed and looked down at my left foot and ankle, which were now twice normal size. I just stared in shock.

The doctor took scissors and cut my sweat pants up to my knee. It was swollen all the way up and really red. When the doctor looks shocked, you know there's cause for concern. Next thing I know, I'm in an ambulance headed to a real hospital. Cam was still right there. That's my boy.

I eventually found out that I had developed a deep tissue infection which triggered stage three lymphedema. In a short period of time I was carrying nearly 50 pounds of fluid in my left leg. Thankfully my vitals were all good and the antibiotics were doing the job of flushing out the infection. I had never been hospitalized before, so that was a new experience. I know for sure that the hospital is no place to get rest. Being poked and prodded all day and all night made it anything but restful.

But they took good care of me over the five days I was there at Virginia Hospital Center. Sunday morning was tough. I hadn't missed a Sunday morning service in 28 years! Thank God for wi-fi! I even got several of the nurses to come and watch church with me. I pointed everybody out to them. They got a kick out of it when Dad mentioned my being in the hospital and the whole church wishing me well.

It wasn't until after going home last Wednesday that I realized that recovery was going to be such a major ordeal. They sent home with a picc line so that I can self-administer an IV for the next 14 days. Man. This a trip. In addition, I have to go to physical therapy almost every day for 2-3 weeks to work down the swelling. All the medication has kept me feeling sick and weak. Then yesterday they found that I developed an allergic reaction to the bandages or the medication, not sure.

When they unwrapped my leg, I wept. I had never seen anything so disgusting. I got so discouraged and went into immediate self-pity mode. Then I remembered how good God has been to me. I thought of all the people who have gone through so much worse than this. I thought about my wonderful wife who has taken care of me every step of the way. I thought of my kids, my parents and my siblings who would do anything in the world for me. I thought of the more than 60 people who came to visit me in the hospital. Then I thought of the pain Jesus went through for me. Silly Mike. Dumb Mike. How could I be so ungrateful with all God's done for me? "This I know; for God is for me. (Ps. 56:9) Forgive me, Lord.

The docs predict 100% recovery within a few weeks. I am glad for that! The other day I bought a cane. Wow, that was telling! I didn't want to, but it's really obvious that it is a big help. I had to learn to use it properly. By leaning on it at the right time it takes pressure off of the bad leg AND the good leg. The symbolism in my life is clear. Through all of this I've had to--perhaps for the first time in my life--learn to lean on the Lord. Situations clearly beyond our control or ability to fix teach us to depend on the One who is really in control. I've had to learn that, as I tend to be a self-fixer. I can't fix this one. But I'm so glad God can.

And that lesson, believe it or not, makes it worth it all! -mb

We can only know
The power that He holds
When we truly see how deep our weakness goes;
His strength in us begins
Where ours comes to an end.
He hears our humble cry and proves again . . .

His strength is perfect when our strength is gone;
He’ll carry us when we can’t carry on.
Raised in His power, the weak become strong;
His strength is perfect, His strength is perfect.

He's Making a List and Checking It 73 Times

Some people have their life all planned out. That was me, pretty much by the time I went to college. I would be in ministry, concentrating in music and administration, and eventually go into the pastorate. That was my “career” path. I followed it and I loved it.

In early 2006 after three weeks of personal turmoil, confusion and wrestling with God, everything changed. For the first time I understood what GOD had planned for my life. Of course, the concept I had mulled over was not totally new. Yet the idea of a special place where theatre, music and electronic media with a Christian worldview could flourish began to excite me and others. This “place” would be a spectacular destination whose thematic material, atmosphere and purpose would draw individuals and families from everywhere.

And so I began to embark on this project—to build Miracle Mansion.

But how in the world??

It was obvious that even the conceptualization of this was way above my pay grade, let alone the reality of it. If it was going to happen, God would have to do it. And a lot of people would need to stand with me. I could never do this alone.

Well, God willing, we will soon close on 73 acres of prime real estate where the Miracle Mansion complex will be built. This is 2010’s #1 goal! Three years ago the thought of purchasing a 17.5 million dollar piece of land was unfathomable. But God is making it possible. And people around the country are joining this effort. Miracle after miracle has taken place, and we are marching on toward opening night in late 2013.

So “73” has become my personal theme. What a great number! It was 1973 when the Dolphins defeated the Redskins for a perfect NFL season. “73” is the single season home run record set by Barry Bonds in 2001. I could go on and on, but I mostly love the fact that “73” is a number containing two integers symbolizing “perfection or completion” and “God.” This motivates me as I am reminded that we have an awesome God who can do “exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.”

With that in mind I prayerfully set 73 personal goals for 2010. A friend reminded me that if we “fail to plan, we plan to fail.” I may not accomplish all of them, but it won’t be due to the lack of a plan. I just want to be the best I can be for God and for His purpose in my life.

Thanks so much to each of you for the encouragement over the last 73 days. I so appreciate your prayers for the many more days ahead.

For information about the Miracle Mansion Project or to learn how to be a part of Groundswell73, visit www.TheMiracleMansion.com.

Personal Goals for 2010:
1. Close on the 73-acre property
2. Lose weight
3. Bring Lora home from work for good
4. Lead 52 people to Christ
5. Complete Groundswell73
6. Complete my novel, The Miracle Mansion
7. Become the most important person in the world to someone who really needs it
8. Buy Lora a killer diamond ring
9. Improve my prayer life
10. Host major MM event at the Kennedy Center
11. Teach Cameron to Drive
12. Write a musical
13. Be 100% accessible to my friends
14. Conquer procrastination
15. Memorize the Book of James
16. Bring on full-time MM staff
17. Spend more time with my parents
18. Travel to visit every Crossroads college student
19. Go away for a couple of days with Cameron
20. Go away for a couple of days with Casey
21. Throw Granddaddy a 100th birthday party
22. Hire a top-notch church pianist
23. Develop the MM Campus Project
24. Set aside a weekly date night with Lora
25. Attend one performance of each of Diana’s shows
26. Read a book each month
27. Start a college fund
28. Grow the College and Career Class to a consistent 45
29. Get 60 singles to the Retreat
30. Promote the July COEBA Gathering in January
31. Have Lari Goss in for a choral workshop
32. Start an orchestra at church
33. Produce a new Choir Christmas CD
34. Remodel basement
35. Complete collaboration on a book about church music
36. Hire the primary architect for MM
37. Buy a new MacBook Pro
38. Open up a Groundswell73 investment for my godchildren
39. Family vacation in California
40. Increase our Faith-Promise Missions commitment
41. Get Maureen to DC
42. Do choir workshops in Georgia & Arkansas
43. Work with budding new soloists
44. Get reacquainted with my cousins
45. Attend the Brooklyn Tab Music Conference
46. Relearn Spanish
47. Pay off all credit card debt
48. Teach my kids about money
49. Learn forty new choir anthems
50. Remodel kitchen
51. Build a screened-in porch
52. Remodel master bath
53. Reconnect with my high school class
54. Plan a trip to Africa for 2011
55. Relearn sign language
56. Raise money for projection screens
57. Host a Summer Fine Arts Camp
58. Complete Graduate Course in Organizational Management
59. Plan a family reunion
60. Complete Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving
61. Host a regular Bible Study
62. Produce and publish a good choral arrangement
63. Go to a Cowboys game
64. See Mary Poppins in the summer at the Kennedy Center
65. Visit my extended family in Cincinnati
66. Convert 25 years of sermon cassette recordings to CD/mp3
67. Visit the Creation Museum in KY
68. Keep a daily journal
69. Write a really good song
70. Get a dog
71. Visit my dearest friends
72. Take the family to see the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade
73. Learn to play the guitar

Twenty Oh Nine In Review

See if you can come up with your ten. Warning! Might have to think really hard.

2009’s Most Significant…

1. Most Significant Blessing—The progress of the Miracle Mansion Project. Many people became partners in this venture through their confidence in me and the vision. This is an amazing and humbling reality for which I am ridiculously grateful. Groundsell73 was a God-given plan that makes me tremble with the realization of God’s goodness to me.

2. Most Significant Trial—My sickness and hospitalization in late April. I had never been really sick before so coming down with a severe infection and lymphedema was an ordeal. In retrospect and in light of what others go through, all of it was pretty mild. But at the time, the fact that I couldn’t go to church and that I was incapacitated and a burden to my family was extremely depressing. I hid it well, because I genuinely hate sympathy. But I went through a great deal of guilt and self-pity before I began to be grateful for what I later learned could have taken my life. God was good, so good, in spite of me.

3. Most Significant Lesson—I learned to prioritize this year. I’ve always tried to do everything, and, as a result, usually got little to nothing done. The art of delegation—haven’t mastered it yet, but I’m trying. I also began to prepare for what I believe God wants me to do in the future. Now if I could just conquer procrastination. Oh well, that’s for another day.

4. Most Significant Life Change—I developed a love for writing. Before, I always wrote out of necessity. This year it became my most rewarding pastime. TO BE CONTINUED…

5. Most Significant Purchase or Acquisition—This was not a big year for self or family spending, so I’m gonna go with the acquisition angle. My friend Wayne gave me a guitar on his birthday. That was pretty remarkable.

6. Most Significant Regret or Personal Failure—Quite a few of these. Didn’t improve my prayer life much over 2008. Didn’t lose weight. Got several speeding tickets. And those are just the ones I’m willing to talk about. Thankful for forgiveness and second chances.

7. Most Significant Accomplishment—This one took some thought. Listing perceived accomplishments sounds really arrogant. And I had to really think to come up with something. If there’s one thing I can say that I feel especially good about, it is the fact that we made the decision to bring the COEBA National Gathering back home to Crossroads this past year. It saved us tens of thousands of dollars and was a phenomenal meeting.

8. Most Significant New or Improved Relationship—This one’s really hard too because it tends to imply status levels. I can’t stop at one, and I’m sure I’ll regret it later. But I gained many new friends this year. Tommy Creek is one of the most encouraging people I’ve ever met. In fact, his whole family is amazing. Maureen Zinser (aka—“Mojo”) is an incredible, smart, kind and caring individual of whom I think the world. There were rekindled friendships too. For example, if I start talking about my “refound” friend, Erin Bruce, I’ll get emotional. God broke the mold with her. And Doug Schweitzer remains the epitome of a godly iron-sharpener. I wanna be like him when I grow up. Existing friendships got even stronger, like with Carl Jefferson who is my brother and closest confidant, Wayne Maynard who cheers and supports me like no other and Deke Green who I would trust with my life. My wife, my immediate family, my adopted daughter, Diana, and my godchildren are priceless and really don’t belong in this list. My singles here and around the country, well, I would give everything I have for them. Longtime and ongoing relationships are too numerous to name, and there is no need to catch feelings because I love you all so much and you are irreplaceable. (Not to mention, this is supposed to be about “new” friendships anyway!!!) So by that token, my most significant new friend of 2009 was Olivia Yates. Can’t describe what a blessing she's been. One in a million. I thank the Lord for OMY. Period.

9. Most Significant Event or Trip—My 40th birthday weekend in June was one of the most enjoyable events of my entire life. The overnighter at a French-style villa in Amish country with special people was a dream. Can’t wait until my next 40th birthday.

10. Most Significant Memory—Here again, maybe you can do it, but I honestly can’t come up with just one. Several things jump to the forefront of my mind: An Inauguration that was extremely surreal. Our Easter Sunrise Service when poor Jon passed out and scared us all. Lady Paysour’s Homegoing. Liv’s surprise party and accompanying trickeries. My all-night drive home from Atlanta in August. Watching church on my laptop while lying in a hospital bed on a Sunday morning. A barbecue at Pat Robertson’s house. A marvelous singles retreat—particularly one very late game night. Five intense conversations—one regrettable and troubling at the time, one that was five hours long and THE MOST hilarious ever, one where I explained an unconventional plan to a panel of astute businessmen who listened and agreed, one where I had to say “no” despite a strong appeal for me to say “yes”, and one where I did all the talking as the listener cringed in absolute discomfort. Lastly, I have to say that my trip to Montreal in December will not be soon forgotten.

A year of mountains and valleys, of new opportunities and new friends, of new starts and abrupt endings. Yet through it all, God's been good!

It's My Party and I'll Buy If I Want To

Isn’t it like age 14 or so when birthdays stop being really fun? Don’t get me wrong. We should all be thankful to the Lord for another year of living. But at some point the presents and the little hat and streamers are replaced by e-cards and bulletin mentions. Such is life.

Still, I was hopeful when my good friend, Wayne Maynard, told me last year that there was a very good chance that Micah would be born on November 5. How exciting this would be for Wayne and Shennetter! Micah would be the answer to prayer after Shennetter’s multiple pregnancy-related health issues.

And he would be Wayne’s greatest birthday gift ever.

Plot twist. Gasp. No “happily ever after” here. Shennetter’s whacky doctor was too busy, or something, to perform the C-Section on the 5th. He preferred the 6th.

Surely he didn’t know that Wayne’s birthday was on the 5th, right? Wrong. He knew full well. Perhaps he couldn’t move his tee time. Now that’s a real reason for health care reform.

Me? I would’ve pitched a fit. But Wayne is much nicer than I am. And angering the man who was about to deliver his son didn’t seem to be high on Wayne’s priority list. Fine. Just seemed wrong to me.

Fast forward a year. It’s now November 2009. Micah’s 1st birthday is approaching. Shennetter has made plans. She’s cooked a big meal and invited us all over to celebrate our godson’s special day. In style.

Now we’re at the Maynards enjoying a party that one-year-old Micah will never remember. There’s chicken wings, and crab dip, and shrimp cocktail, and cake. And there’s a little hat and streamers too.

And oh yeah, Wayne’s birthday was the day before. Happy belated birthday, Wayne! It’s a good thing you’re a proud dad, ‘cause YOUR birthday will forevermore be yesterday’s news. Sorry.

Then again, maybe not. I’m paraphrasing…

“I wanted to do something different for my birthday,” he said.

Yeah, yeah whatever. Say cheese, Micah!

“You guys mean the world to me. I’m so honored that you would be here tonight for Micah and so thankful for the impact each of you has had in our lives.”

Ok, he was getting sentimental, so now we had to pay attention. For the next several minutes Wayne elaborated in great detail about what each of us meant to him personally.

“So I decided that this year, for MY birthday, I would do something I always wanted to do. I bought gifts for each of YOU.”

Chicken wing, you’ve been spared. At least for now.

“Cameron and Casey,” Wayne said, “I’ve watched you grow.”

He handed them the coolest new game for their Wii.

“Lora and Denise, you are wonderful godmothers to both of our children.”

He handed them $50 Macy’s gift cards.

“Mike, you have been a great mentor and friend. I wanted to get you something that I knew you wanted and that will help you accomplish one of your 73 stated goals for next year.”

He handed me a brand new guitar.

“What can I say about my wonderful wife Shennetter? You are everything to me.”

He handed her a new Dell laptop.

As surprising as all of this was it’s really very much in character. Wayne is one of the most selfless people I know. He’s a terrific listener, encourager and the definition of a friend. I don’t remember one time when he hasn’t been all of these to me.

But I’m pretty sure I’ll always remember his birthday.

Filet O' Fear

Despite the occasional service faux pas, our Couples Retreat last weekend went off without a hitch. And now everybody was headed home, anxious to get things prepared for Harvest Day and grateful for the extra hour that Daylight Standard Time would soon offer.

Lora and I along with our friends, Carl and Angie, were also looking forward to grabbing some seafood from Richmond’s famous Croaker Spot Restaurant. We had talked about it all week. The hole-in-the-wall eatery sits on a moderately busy street corner in one of the country’s oldest black neighborhoods and was once featured on the Food Network. One bite of their signature dish—fried fish and shrimp smothered in onions and red peppers, accompanied by cheese grits, cabbage and sweet corn bread—and you’d understand why the line to get into the restaurant’s brick-front brownstone often circles the block.

The wait to sit and eat was at least an hour (at 2:00 on a Saturday afternoon). So we opted to carry-out and dine at Chez Expeditione’—a.k.a., inside my SUV. Carl waited in line for the food. Angie waited in the car for Carl. Lora and I headed off to find a convenience store to get drinks.

“Make mine a ginger ale. I can’t handle the acidity of Sprite or 7-up.” Carl is such a baby.

After about five minutes I spotted a BP gas station/convenience store. It was one of those tiny ones that sat in between the gas pumps with a door on either side of the store. Perfect. It wasn’t like I was going grocery shopping. I parked the truck at a vacant spot in front of a pump and went inside while Lora waited. As soon as I walked in I saw the refrigerated section. Three diet cokes and a fruit punch (they had no ginger ale), easy enough. I then proceeded to the register. There were now two guys standing in front of the door I had recently entered.

I don’t want to stereotype here, so you can insert your own mental image. Let’s just say, they were very imposing dudes. Young, with thick jackets on—even though it was in the high 60s—and neither of them was smiling. They whispered something to each other and kept looking back at me.

Ok, fine. Sticks and stones. No big deal. Soon I would be safe and sound in my wussy, seafood-loving world.

The guy at the cash register started to ring me up. But he was making eye contact with the two gentlemen at the door. A quick glance back, and I noticed they were making eye contact with him too. All the while, our soft drinks were being scanned and bagged at the speed of paint-drying, or so it seemed.

About this time two other fellas, also of the baser sort, entered the already, way too crowded store. They walked directly to the other door (which I had already planned to use) and stood in front of it.

Now, we had a situation. Classic triangulation. Doors blocked to the left and right. Undetermined allegiance straight ahead. And behind me a dead end of refrigerators, a unisex restroom and racks of beef jerky and bubble gum.

Aw man. This was bad.

It was pretty clear what was getting ready to happen. Ten eyes were looking at me with my trademark church khakis and cotton polo that just screamed, “Mug me and kill me” (or vice-versa).

So I prayed. My eyes were open, but I was praying. God help me! Then I thought about Lora. Could she hear me if I scream? Probably not. Should I just give them the wallet now? Nah. They might think I’m hiding something else. Maybe I should go for my phone. My beautiful one-day-old iPhone 3Gs?!?

God help me!

The first two guys started walking towards me. I should also mention that all of this happened within about thirty seconds. But my recollection is remarkably clear.

Then, a seventh individual entered the store. I didn’t see his or her face. All I know is that this person was not a part of the situation. The four door blockers dispersed immediately, the checkout guy popped into fifth gear, bagging my drinks in one fell swoop, and I was out of there without a receipt.

Kissed my wife as soon as I got back in the truck, well, right after locking the doors. I was notably thankful at that moment for God’s protection. He is so good. There is absolutely nothing to fear with Him on my side.

Ok, but still, I floored it out of the lot.

“Keep me as the apple of the eye, hide me under the shadow of thy wings, From the wicked that oppress me, from my deadly enemies, who compass me about.” Psalms 17:8-9

Not Your Father's Singles Retreat

Pitiful. Awkward. Boring. Or in today’s vernacular, “whack.” I’m being honest here, and it’s only my opinion, but that’s how I remember many singles retreats back in the days of my singleness. Pitiful, because these things were berthed when couples, who, after experiencing euphoric romantic excursions, felt woefully sympathetic. Awkward, because all thirteen of us (usually something like eleven women and two guys ranging in age from nineteen to fifty-seven) were there under the pretense that our only chance of marital bliss existed within the four walls of a tiny Howard Johnson’s banquet room. Boring, because it just was. And whack, because it was boring.

But I’m not bitter. That was a long time ago.

This weekend, however, being Singles Pastor Extraordinaire I had the great blessing of experiencing something much different. Lora and I, along with Kenny, Bethany, and friends, Wayne and Shennetter Maynard, spent a few days in the Virginia mountains with thirty-six single adults. Looking back now I have to say that it was one of the most fulfilling group getaways I’ve ever been a part of. An obvious plus was the array of beautiful homes we stayed in, one of which had nine plasma TVs, a built-in theatre and a real English pub. Not kidding.

But there was so much more. I can’t summarize everything that happened since Wednesday night, particularly from the perspective of more than forty people. But while it’s fresh on my mind I’m gonna blog a few of my personal standout memories.

#1—Arrived at Wintergreen sometime after 3 a.m. Thursday morning (me, Lora, Michala, Liv, Courtney and Ebony). Loaded the Expedition after church and traveled in dense fog and rain to find that our aforementioned mansion had no key in the lockbox. So we crashed the house reserved for the guys. Goldilocks style. Our house was ready the next day, and we left the guys’ house in pristine condition. They still don’t know.

#2—Drove forty minutes to Charlottesville to buy breakfast groceries for forty people. Somebody accidentally mistook oatmeal for grits, and some old ladies stole Liv’s cookie-baking butter.

#3—Twenty-five of us stormed one of the resort’s restaurants to their recession-conscious delight. Halfway through my Philly cheese steak, Vicky stood up to reveal her custom-made T-shirt. It featured a photo of herself and yours truly with the words in bright red letters, “#1 Single.” A prearranged barrage of photoflash from the rest of the group was a really nice touch. Love you, Vicky D.

#4—The Friday morning session revealed the players on the red and blue teams. The spirit of the group was high. I spoke on the theme, “Alone In His Presence,” referring to the examples of Jacob, Moses, and Peter who were changed by being in the presence of God. We got really personal about things, and I believe the Lord broke down some difficult barriers.

#5—Lora and I found a tiny grocery store that was only ten minutes away. This time, it was for dinner food. Cash only though. Yikes! We had 125 bucks. It all came to $124.50. I did my best on the grill and, after two hours of smoke inhalation later that evening, we ate. Thomas figured out the complex audio system so that Bree could bless us in song. Pastor Kenny challenged us that night from Psalm 16 about fullness of joy in the presence of the Lord.

#6—Had a serious conversation with a single who shared some changes God was making in their life as a result of the message earlier. I was equally shocked and encouraged.

#7—The night was still young and free time was on the agenda. There were dangerous and silly card games, at least 20 rounds of silent killer and old-fashioned hide-and-seek. Ben never stopped talking. MJ was terrified of truth or dare, and Jon fell off the ottoman at least twice from laughter. Lights out around 3 a.m.

#8—Woke up at 7 a.m. on Saturday. Miraculous. Mom drove up to speak to the ladies. Pastor Kenny challenged the guys about being mighty men of God. Bro. Wayne spoke about financial freedom. Good biblical application despite his personal disdain for QVC. “Three easy payments?” How would they know whether or not it’s easy?

#9—Final session competition between the two teams: First, write and perform a skit on the topic of “jealousy.” Second, arrange and sing a song. The red team managed to score big on both contests, but not enough to thwart the blue team’s overall weekend victory. Cynthia Brent was voted “Retreater of the Weekend.”

#10—Ashleigh sang a cappella. Wow, did she ever! So very proud of you, Ash! Stirring testimonies accompanied by laughter, tears and admissions. Nobody wanted it to end.

I really, really love these people. And despite my run of the mill attempt at a recap, I want to reiterate. This was an amazing retreat!

Mom's the Word

Throughout life there are events so poignant, so surreal, that they leave an indelible impression, so much to the point that even the smallest details are remembered. Here is one of those events…

It was the spring semester of my junior year at Tennessee Temple University. Finals week. Many of you know what that’s like. All-nighters and caffeine-laden helps like Jolt and No-Doze (Red Bull hadn’t been invented yet, or at least not FDA approved) coursed through my veins, remarkably unhampered in flow by a gracious quantity of Krispy Kremes. Oh yes, these were as valuable as having the test answers in advance. Or so I am told.

In the other corner of the ring were those euphoric visions of the summertime that was soon to be. Home. My family. My bed. My church. My friends. My …

Sorry. Like then, it’s still hard to focus. But I managed to. Despite the caffeine overload and the “daymares” inherent with Music History and Greek finals, I managed to focus. Because I needed that A. I wanted that A.

So on Monday, I geared up for the week ahead, realizing the enormity of the task at hand while allowing the prospect of Friday’s exodus to be my impetus. I couldn’t wait to head down Orchard Knob, to Main, to Willow to I-24, to I-75, to I-40, to I-81, to I-66, to I-495, to Chain Bridge, to International, to Spring Hill, to Lewinsville, to 8464 Clover Leaf Drive. Yes. I sooo wanted to see Chattanooga’s beautiful Lookout Mountain…

… in my rear-view mirror.

By Tuesday afternoon I’d had two hours of sleep in two days. And the toughest finals were still ahead. I felt like I was gonna die. But I was still focusing.

A year prior I had traded in the luxury of dorm life for a one-bedroom apartment in East Ridge. Taking a brief respite from study that afternoon I flicked on my TV to watch a newly syndicated episode of the Cosby Show. It was the one where Vanessa and her friends were doing the “locomotion.” Don’t ask. Anyway, I happened to notice through my balcony’s sliding glass door that the driver’s side window of my 1984 Audi 5000 was halfway down. It was just starting to rain. My pre-TiVo quandary was now in effect. For a moment I thought, “Leather seats can be wiped off.” Pssshh. I quickly shook off that thought. Missing thirty seconds of a sitcom is much better than interior water damage.

So I ran to the car. Man! Forgot the keys. Ran back inside. Stopped to look at the show. Auugh, it’s raining hard now! Ran back outside. Put the window up. Ran back inside. Show was over. Man! Oh well, at least the car didn’t get too wet inside.

But I was drenched. So before A Different World came on, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and started drying my head and face off in front of the TV. It was going to be a long night, so I planned to make the most of this “break.”

The show’s theme song was interrupted by the loudest, most guttural, shuddering, scraping noise I’d ever heard. The accompanying vibration, though not earthquake worthy, gave me pause.

What in the world??

I distinctly recall a good ten seconds of terror, augmented by the fear of this totally bewildering sound.

I looked out of the sliding door again…

… just in time to witness a huge city cement truck plow backwards into my aforementioned European sedan, smashing the driver’s side doors, flipping it on its side, and relocating it with toy-car effort to its resting place in the hedges adjacent to my building.

What in the world??

I ran outside in the rain, hoping that what I was seeing wasn’t real, and, perhaps the result of a lack of sleep. But it was very real.

The million-ton cement truck had been parked on a steep hill in our parking lot. Apparently, the emergency brakes were no match for the combination of weight, gravity and wet surface. And obviously, my car was no match for the cement truck.

Strangely, all I could think was, how am I gonna get home?

“Are you okay?” A city worker had run down the hill to where I was. “I saw you get in the car a minute ago, then this happened. Are you okay?”

That’s when it hit me that… it didn’t hit me! I had forgotten that only three minutes earlier... well, I could have been in a different world for sure.

At that point, everything shifted from studying for finals to filling out police and insurance reports, getting damage estimates, coordinating temporary and long-term reimbursement with the City, etc., etc., etc.

I called Dad that night and several times that week. I was so bummed. I remember telling him how awful my week was going. I wasn’t getting cooperation from the City. I still had finals. I was starting to feel sick. I was so frustrated.

Dad and mom told me that they were praying for me and that everything was going to be okay. That was easy for them to say, I thought. They're not here to deal with all of this.

I want to pause here to say two things. First, notice that every sentence two paragraphs ago began with the word/letter “I.” That was my basic state of mind that week. Not good. Secondly, I really hope that 21-year-olds today are not as stupid as I was to think that finals week and my associated crises were akin to Armageddon and, thereby, significantly more troubling than the problems that others—particularly my mom and dad—were facing.

I made it through finals. Got a rental car arrangement worked out with the City. Drove home Friday while listening nine hours straight to my Cole Porter CD. Got home ‘round midnight, by the way ;). Dad helped me bring my bags up to my room and sat down on the bed. Uh oh. Had they faxed my grades already? This wasn’t looking good.

These aren’t exact quotes, but it went down something like this…

“Had a rough week, huh?”

“The worst,” I said.

“Your mom and I knew that, so we wanted to wait until you got home to tell you that she had a biopsy last week."

“Ok??”

“She has breast cancer.”

{Silence}

“She’s going to start chemotherapy and radiation immediately. But we’re trusting the Lord.”

The weird thing is that though I have pristine recollection of that whole week, the next few minutes that transpired are a blur. I was blown! I had never had a more awful experience. The next thing I remember saying was,

“I’m not going back.”

“We have all summer to talk about that.”

“Ok. But I’m not going back.”

And I didn’t. Of course, I could blog forever on the divergence of my life path for which, in retrospect, I am eternally grateful. But I made up my mind, in less than a minute, while sitting on the side of my bed, on a Friday night in May of 1990, that I was not going to graduate from college in Chattanooga.

I soon became aware that churches around the country had been praying for mom for days. Many of my college classmates and the faculty at TTU were aware of the situation but were sworn to secrecy--for my benefit.

And I was having a bad week?? The conviction was so real that it makes me want to “I John 1:9” all over again.

But Dad and Mom never complained. They were never short with me on the phone. They empathized and showed genuine love even while dealing with all of this.

In fact, through all of those years of chemo, radiation, surgeries, pain and countless sleepless nights, Mom never complained. I never saw her worry or question God. I never even saw her cry. Through all of that she managed to rear two younger children, function as a Pastor’s wife, speaker and counselor. She built and directed a child development center. She missed no more than three church services through the whole ordeal. She was verbal in constant affirmation that, “My God is good.” Her faith and testimony have inspired thousands.

And now, nineteen years later, she is cancer-free.

This blog entry has been mostly about me, but it’s not intended to be. Today is my mom’s birthday. And every year, on October 12, I tend to reflect on that week in a spirit of thankfulness for the incredible mother that I still have. I consider my parents and my family to be my greatest earthly blessing. This year I chose to write about it.

Happy birthday, JB! I love you. You are the most faith-exercising and God-loving person that I know.

Do You Make Me Proud?

I realized just now that every one of my posts until now has been about ME. Yeah, I know, that's the nature of blogging, right?? No? Ok. Then it's just pathetic.

So setting narcissism aside for a moment I'd like to share a recent experience centered around someone else. How 'bout that?

I visited Regent University in Virginia Beach this week at the invitation of a first-year Theatre graduate student. Diana Coates came to our church at age nine with her mom, Denise. I have had the honor, and I really consider it to be that, to have a small part in her life since then. I watched her grow up, go off to college and now, embark on this new journey.

Through all of this, she has stayed faithful to the Lord.

I met Diana on Thursday evening in front of the Communications Building. From the moment I saw her it was obvious that she was in her element. This was her domain! She gave me an unauthorized tour of the stellar facility that will be her academic home for the next three years. Diana is one of only ten accepted from a pool of hundreds of applicants to Regent's intensive Master of Fine Arts program. From the look in her eyes and the tenor in her description of every room from the experimental theatre to fight choreography room--she doesn't take this opportunity for granted.

So I was there because she and first year students had been invited to a barbecue at the Chancellor's home. They were each permitted a guest. Denise couldn't make it because of work, so I got the privileged nod. When Diana asked if I would come I didn't hesitate. I mean, it was a great chance to check up on her--make sure she was behaving. :)

But really my thoughts ventured to... hmm... theatre department, worldwide Christian television network, potentially deep pockets. In other words, a great Miracle Mansion opportunity!

Like I said, I didn't hesitate. Cleared my schedule and took the drive.

Regent University is one of the most stunning campuses I have ever seen. It is distinctively "Virginia", boasting stately colonial architecture amidst tree-lined knolls and cobblestone sidewalks. Thursday's afternoon, pre-autumn breeze was just deft enough to coerce a stray drop or two from one of the nearby concrete fountains.

And the house. What?!? The spectacular brick mansion that just screamed, "Want me," was flanked on all sides by continuous 6-foot hedges abutting an impressive iron gate. The large driveway--which could accommodate many more vehicles than the four that were there--led to an outdoor, half-radial staircase and stately entrance.

From outside we could see that Matlock was playing on the TV in the study. A brass lamp illuminated a gorgeous bookcase and framed artwork of the Virginia countryside. I was inclined to suspect all of this to be staged so as to create a sense of "homey" perfection for all of us gawkers. Mission accomplished.

We--Diana, myself and 100 others--were directed past that vision of Americana to a side walkway leading to an expansive, football-field-sized, garden of Eden-esque backyard.

Mm. The aroma of pulled pork provided the warmest of welcomes. With faint recollection I've managed to remember fried chicken, cole slaw, potato salad, baked beans, rolls, lemonade, iced tea, apple pie and a dixie quartet playing standards from the deck. I could kick myself for not

being more observant.

The happy eating crowd came to a hush about 20 minutes later as Dr. Pat Robertson appeared on the deck sporting a jogging suit and cowboy hat. He recently underwent heart surgery and was unable to join the party but came out to share a few words and offer a prayer of blessing for the new students.

"Our graduates change the world," he said. His voice echoed in the evening breeze. "You are here to learn how to leave your mark on the culture."

As he quietly returned to the privacy of his home, the band resumed and so did the eating. Too perfect.

We happened to be sitting at the table reserved for the Communications Department. We also happened to be sitting next to the Dean of the Communications Department. We also happened to have Miracle Mansion brochures that Diana had stuffed in her intentionally large purse. Oh yeah.

After my thirty-minute, unplanned introduction of the Project to a very interested University Dean, it seemed logical for him to meet the actual invitee, lol. He had obviously heard of Diana, being the one ultimately responsible for her induction to the program. Now he was able to put a name with a face.

I listened to the two of them converse about her goals and the many opportunities that she would have to hone her craft. The glimmer in Diana's eye had returned as she expressed her desire to learn and develop her gift for God. The Dean listened again with intensity, stopping to compliment her on her early achievements in only a few short weeks at Regent.

"She's really, really good, too!" For some unknowable reason I suddenly felt the urge to break into their already effective conversation with the unsolicited bias of an obnoxious American Idol parent.

We reluctantly left the barbeque, and it was clear to me that Diana had been noticed. Not just for her talent but for her passion and determination.

And, she is already making her mark as a committed first-year student with convictions reflective of her non-apologetic, conservative Baptist upbringing. An extremely rare breed in that beautiful, impressive, but very "not-Baptist" place.

We got to talk for several more hours as I had the special privilege to meet her local "mom," Darlene French. This special Christian lady opened her beautiful home to Diana and her roommate, Erin. Man, I would've killed for a setup like that in college! But as nice as the accommodations were, it is Darlene's spirit and obvious care for Diana that reiterates the fact that God has smiled on this 21-year old kid.

The intended short visit to Darlene's home turned into a three-hour one that included testimonies of God's goodness, singing around the piano and a bit of jealousy over her pristine vinyl record collection. Finally, around 11:00 p.m., I began the 3 1/2 hour drive back home. But that was only after Mrs. Darlene insisted that I lead us all in prayer and standby for a goodie bag packed with PB&Js and other road treasures.

I've made a habit of analyzing the impact of events in my daily life. By the time I reached the Hampton Bridge Tunnel I had outlined the things that stood out about the day. First, I want a house like Pat Robertson's. Ok, that's true, but it wasn't a prevalent thought. :)

My overwhelming impression was simply how proud I am of Diana. So many things that I saw that day convinced me that she is exactly where God wants her to be. The stand that she takes and the passion she exudes made me so thankful to have had a small impact on her life. I texted Denise to tell her that I couldn't verbalize my sense of pride for her daughter's early accomplishments without getting emotional. There are few things more exciting than seeing someone grow up and maintain an intrinsic desire to live for God.

The second thing that struck me was the reality that God honors faithfulness. Even as a single parent, Denise's faithfulness to the Lord was instilled in Diana, and now, Diana is experiencing the rewards. I love it when God's people shatter the notions of stereotypical-ness.

Way to go, D! Do you make me proud? Duh.

"I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth." (3 John 1:4)

After the storm.

I’ve never been in a really bad storm. You know, the Katrina type. Having many friends in the south and almost as many in the Caribbean I can only live vicariously through their experiences. They tell me that going through a hurricane is one of the most horrifying things one can imagine. The indescribable noise, the rumbling and shaking of things that shouldn’t, the destruction and fear of it—it’s pretty much an ordeal that I am happy to have dodged.

On the rare occasion of a hurricane or tornado threat in our area, preparatory warnings and survival instruction are free-flowing. The storm supercedes the news of the day on all the TV channels and at every water cooler. And so the scurry begins to stock up on plywood, batteries, canned goods and eggs. For some, consolation can only be found on an evacuation route leading to safety.

But I have in my “young” life—don’t correct me J—experienced some figurative “storms.” Let me say first that I consider myself to be exceedingly blessed. I have a wonderful family, fantastic friends, the best church in the world, I could go on and on. When I look at what others have endured, the notion that I’ve had a hard life is laughable. Ridiculous. God has been more than good to me. Maybe that’s why storms in my life are so memorable to me—much like the infrequent “real” storms here in our area of the country. And maybe that’s why they are seemingly so hard. I’m not really sure. Maybe I’m just a wimp. Maybe all of the above.

I’ve been through a storm—really recently. There are many reasons why I won’t go into detail, the most prevalent being—it’s none of your business!! Just kidding. The specifics are not important. You might ask, “then why blog about it?” You know, that’s a great question. For me, blogging forces me to think about the situation in a logical way. It’s a form of verbalizing something personal—which is not one of my strong suits. In fact, my inability to properly do that has prompted a storm or two.

Basically, blogging helps. There is no other agenda here.

But I’m getting off point. Like I said, everybody seems to have advice on how to prepare for an actual storm and how to weather it. Similarly there are innumerable sermons, devotionals, poems and songs on how to handle the storms of life. (Even now tunes are going through my head). And trust me. I have read the verses, sung the songs, and prayed the prayers. It still wasn’t easy, but these things sure help. The relevant truth being that God’s grace is so sufficient! How could we survive without it?

But somebody please tell me where the Cliffs Notes are for dealing with the aftermath of the storm. So you made it through. You survived the devastation. But a careful survey of the landscape presents a striking reality. Things like emotions, perceptions and even relationships have been uprooted and strewn all over the place. What was “normal” is not normal anymore. There is a lot of cleanup to be done.

Then, the most candid of all realities sets in. Things will never, ever be the same.

So what do you do? What happens after the storm?

One thing I have learned as someone who is expected to have all the right answers is that I don’t. The more I live, the more I realize how very little I know. I have also found that theory is no substitute for experience. So what I share now is based on two things: my understanding of the Word of God and my own personal, limited and current experience.

First, evaluation. What in the world happened? I think this is important to ask because every trial—whether self-inflicted, not self-inflicted, or something in between—is allowed of God. Sometimes storms are God’s chastening. Jonah’s headline could have read: “FLEEING PROPHET SUBJECTED TO WAVE WHIPPING AND INTESTINAL INCARCERATION.” These are the worst. Basically it’s God taking us to the woodshed. Not fun. Then, there are storms God allows in order to test us and strengthen our dependence on Him. Satan often has his fingerprints all over these. Furthermore, there are those storms that we basically bring upon ourselves, and though God allows them, He might have preferred to teach us in a less turbulent way.

The point is, that there is always something to be learned from the storm. What is God trying to teach me? What is He doing in my life? What is He sparing me from? What should I have done differently?

Without evaluation, particularly of my own actions, the pain and devastation is in vain. Every situation in life—whether good or bad—brings with it a lesson in experience that can’t be gained from a book. And when there are people involved, there is the great likelihood that somebody, perhaps me, coulda-shoulda-woulda done things differently. Such are the often uncomfortable lessons of life.

Second, forgiveness. This is surely a two-way street, as forgiveness is either a request or a responsibility. If I am honest, I’ll probably come to the point where I need to be on the receiving end of this two-way street. “I AM SORRY.” Three rarely used words in our language. I have learned that as soon as I realize that I have done wrong, it’s time to ask for forgiveness—of God and of others. If I don’t do it right away I’ll either talk myself out of it, justify my actions, blame shift or minimize the seriousness of what I’ve done.

Many times the aftermath of the storm requires you to be the forgiver. The Bible tells us,” But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses” (Mark 11:26). I can’t get forgiveness from God if I don’t forgive others. It’s that simple.

By the way, our forgiveness of others is required whether or not it is sought. When I feel wronged, when I feel mistreated and misunderstood, I have the responsibility to forgive even if the “forgivee” doesn’t ask for it or admit wrongdoing. I also must fight—really, really fight—the urge to retaliate or to seek revenge. None of this is easy. But it is right. And it’s the only way to clean up after the storm.

Finally, rebuilding. Too often people fail to recover from the pain and destruction of a trial. Their life remains a permanent picture of devastation. This is more tragic than the storm itself, because God wants to make something good out of bad. Consider Joseph’s life. He was hated by his brothers, yet he still dared to dream. He was thrown into a pit and sold into slavery, but he demonstrated character and scored the dream job. When the boss’ wife falsely accused him and landed him in prison, he maintained his resourcefulness and became a favored prisoner. Eventually he discovered his destiny when Pharaoh chose him to save the world. He had come a long way from his pitfalls. But it wasn’t by accident. In every case he made lemonade. He stayed faithful to God. He didn’t stay down, he got up. And in the end, just like after a real storm, the final product was far better than what he had before the wind even started blowing.

Rebuilding takes work. Again, I’m no expert, but here’s what has helped me on the recovery road:

1. I fell on my face. It was time for a real heart-to-heart with God. Tears had been shed over and over. Forgiveness had been acquired and the requests for grace were abundant. But now it was time to commune. It was time to fellowship with MY God. It was time to fortify the most important relationship in my life. It was time to hover under the shelter in the time of storm. It was time to thank Him for the storm—as hard as that is to do.
2. I got into the Word. Nothing is more comforting than God’s Word. His precious promises, the reminder of His faithfulness, embracing the reality of His goodness and forgiveness.
3. I clung to my most cherished possessions. It is such a mistake to focus on the things lost in the storm rather than on the things that I still have. My amazing wife, my beautiful children, my extended family and my invaluable friendships—they’re all still here! God has a way of augmenting our appreciation for the blessings in our lives. After the storm, my family seems more special than ever. After the storm my friends seem more encouraging. Sure, the loss is really hard. The storm created a painful void. But what remains is priceless and deserves to be loved and embraced more than ever before.
4. I made some changes. This might be the hardest part of the rebuilding process. But it’s not so bad with the realization that change can be good. Sometimes we have to make tough choices, decisions we’d rather not, all for the greater good. This will make us better equipped for the next storm or able to avoid it altogether. We make changes with the faith and assurance that it’s going to be alright. It's gonna be better than alright!

So that’s my post-storm blog. As honest as I can be. Maybe what helped me can help you in the aftermath of your particular storm.

“For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm…” Isaiah 25:4