Movie Night at Watkins

I've been on a blogging break until I return from NCYM. I just want to try to get word out that some of us will be at the Watkins tomorrow night from 7-10 p.m. watching movies.

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If you're like me, you probably break more New Year's resolutions than you keep. Nonetheless, you make them each year. For the past 3 NEw Years, I have made one to lose weight. One of those was successful. Of course I was in the middle of marathon training. I would like to challenge you to consider resolve contribyting to efforts such as poverty or AIDS. There are many organizations doing great work in the name of Christ. One such organization is World Vision. Consider making it a priority to become involved in those things that concern God deeply. One way to do that for those like me who are also resolving once again to lose weight is to join my blogging friend Chris Gonzalas in 40 Days of Fat. This is a campaign to collectively raise enough money to purchase a farm for World Vision. Visit the website liked above and join me as we resolve to become involved in his work to end hunger. Set up some goals and monetary values for those goals. At the end of 40 Days add up your total and make a contribution to World Vision. During this 40 Days of Fat, the goal is to raise money collectively to purchase a farm. 40 Days of Fat begins January 1, 2006.

My journey, part 2

Have you ever been shopping for a gift for someone feeling that whatever you give them will never be as great as the gift they have given you or what they have done for you? You know that you do not have the ability to give back on that level. I had that feeling today considering gifts to give some different people. How much more so I feel that way when I consider what my Lord has done for me and what I offer him in return.

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Much began to change in my elementary years. Innocence was lost with the first cuss words spoken at the age of 9, the same year I stole a pack of gum from a convenience store. At the same time, I was becoming more aware of the difference between the way my parents saw me and how others viewed me. While my parents constantly reminded me of how proud they were of me and how good I was, life at school presented a different reality. I couldn't get the attention of the girls. I was a chubby, buck-toothed boy. I never received the Presidential Fitness patch, I wasn't the first kid chosen for kickball, I wasn't the smartest kid in class. So, while my parents constantly told me how special I was, I didn't feel that way in school. I was simply average.

It became confusing. Who was right -my parents or peers? What about God? My parents constantly told me God loved me. But the only love and acceptance I ever really felt was the love of my parents, other adults and people at church. If I couldn't see and touch and hear God, how could I know he felt the same way about me as my parents? Many of my peers certainly didn't, especially the girls.

As I dealt with fitting in and feeling accepted by others my view of my parents began to change. When I was 8 years-old, my mother had her first schizzophrenic breakdown. She didn't act like my mom, talk like my mom, or think liker her. At the same time, my dad was different. For the first time I saw my dad cry. It was as if he didn't know what to do. My parents were no longer flawless. They no longer had all the answers to my questions. I believe small children ask us parents so many questions because they are convinced we know all the answers. It's amazing how quickly that changes. Our kids go from thinking we know it all to thinking we know nothing at all.

Through those years I began to see God differently. I still knew I would be at church no matter what. I still believed in God, but I'm not so sure I completely bought into this whole idea that he loved me like a Father. Funny thing was I was baptized at the age of 10 because I felt so guiltly over the cussing and whole bubble gum thing. I also wanted to eat the cracker and drink the juice from the tiny cup each week. So, my 10-year-old guilt-driven theology led me to be baptized. The next Sunday I ate that cracker, drank the juice and led my first song.

My journey, part 1

The next few posts will be a reflection on my life in Christ as I reflect on who I am, where I've been and where I'm headed.

My spiritual formation began before I was born. My mother, one of three children, grew up in home where her parents didn't really attend shurch. Her olderst sister would take her and her brother to a non-Sunday school Church of Christ in Brownfield. She gave her life to Christ as a high schooler, attended LCU for a semester, OCU for a semester, but never finished college. While working a phone switchboard in Brownfield she met my dad, whose family was Methodist. He hadn't been to church much since graduating from high school either. They didn't date long before they married in 1970. Then I came along. Dad began attending church with mom. Mom has missed only a handful of Sundays ever since.

My mom, like her sister, made sure I was in church every chance we had growing up. My earliest memories of church life are when I was about 4 years-old in a small church in Kenai, Alaska. I remember our preacher, D.L. Hargus, bringing all us children to the front of our small church and teaching us "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus." I may have learned the words to that song before "Jesus Loves Me." I remember D.L. being an older man with a gentle spirit.

Those early years were important because all of us small children grew up away from our grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. George, Sharon, Chris, Joan, Rick and Bobby became my primary family. When I consider those years, I see how God was preparing my family for things to come. The one thing I knew was that, if we had a church service, I was going to be there whether I felt like it or not. That became part of my nature. I may not have understood much about God or Jesus, but I knew I was going to church.

I just saw Chronicles of Narnia yesterday with Julia. Deana mentioned one thing that that stuck out to her as we were driving home and I was thinking about that as well. I really liked how movie makers created the context for the rest of the story.

One thing that really stood out to me was Edmond. Of all the characters in the movie, I think I can relate to him best. I've always had a desire to be somebody. That, like Edmond, led me down some paths I never intended on going. And like Edmond, it never turned out the way I had hoped. Instead, I always felt disilusioned and let down. I think I understand him best because I am him at times.

All graded

Grades are done! Praise the Lord! Today was my last day for a few weeks. I love teaching, but I get tired of all the paper work. I don't know how many times I'm tempted to simply peruse the work, look for missing questions and leave it at that. I love asking open ended questions to see how creative students can be in their responses, but I hate reading them. I love taking the time to develop the right project but hate taking the time to set it up and grade it. I think for most of us teachers our job is a love-hate relationship. I love the students and love what I do, but thank goodness I'm done.

Being from Alaska

When people find out I grew up in Alaska I usually get to answer all kinds of interesting questions. My freshman year at ACU (not too many years ago), a girl found out I was from Alaska and with utmost sencerity asked "Why is Alaska so cold and Hawaii so hot if they're so close together?" The sad thing was, that even with the look of shock on my face she still didn't realize what a stupid question that was. Who says there's no such thing as a dumb question?

Today our church family handed out food from the annual Houston area Share Your Holidays Food Drive. Each year approximately 400 people receive groceries from this effort in the Baytown area. While carryng groceries for one lady I found out she was forced to move to Baytown because Rita had destroyed her home. She talked about living in South Park and I shared with her about Deana's family history in that part of Beaumont. After talking for a few minutes she hugged me and we said good bye.

It's amazing how many people I simply let pass by without even so much as acknowledging them. Yet, in 5 minutes of conversation, I connected with this woman in such a way that she blessed me. I think I learned a lesson today. What a great afternoon.

Too compartmentalized

I have allowed my life to become too compartmentalized, too neat. It's not messy enough. It's as if I put on different uniforms for different jobs. I don't want to get my church suit dirty with my home work out clothes. I don't want my school clothes to mix with my church attire. It tends to wear on me and make me tire. So, as I sat at Chilis having my monthly heart check with a friend, I began to realize through the course of our sharing and prayer, that I have fractionated myself.

I don't want that. I want to live more holistically. I want so much more than to just do. I want my entire being to be consistent with who Jesus is. I want to be like him in every way and in every day. I guess that is truly choosing life.

Christmas memory

One of my favorite memories of Christmases past is from last year when it snowed on Christmas Eve. Julia, whose only experience with snow, had been two ski trip to Colorado was so excited. In fact, when she woke up Christmas morning she was more excited snow was blanketing the ground than she was about her Christmas presents. She doesn't remember most of the Christmas presents she was given that morning, but she does remember in great detail what she did outside Christmas morning. I think that might be more important than what she received.

One of my more useful gifts

One of the more unconventional gifts I have received on Christmas has come from my grandmother. Each year she would send 3-4 gifts to each family member. Well, one Christmas after Deana and I had been married a few years, she sent me a package of underwear along with other gifts. Needless to say, it's one of the more useful gifts I have received. Who among us can say we have too many pairs of new underwear? Oh how I love my grandmother.