Mending the Broken

In my honest and humble opinion, the most overused words that come out of kids’ and adolescents’ mouths are ‘it was an accident’.

When they were young, one of my girls would come running into the room, tears in her eyes and crying hysterically because one of her sisters kicked her or punched her or pulled her hair or broke her toys. The culprit usually would be following close behind, prepared to plead her case, often times using the words ‘on accident’ in her defense.

Sometimes it’s obvious. Sometimes you can tell immediately when something is broken because it doesn’t work right, or even more obvious, when it’s lying on the floor in pieces. The sound of plates crashing to the floor is usually a dead giveaway, even before you look.

The brother of my friend, Jenny was in a horrible motorcycle accident; he was hit by an oncoming car in the middle of an intersection, a scenario often called a ‘T-bone’. I went to the hospital to visit him.

There he lay on the bed, with his current best friends, IV and pain meds, poking into his arm. Jenny showed me some pictures she had taken with her camera phone.

Talk about obvious. Rodney’s leg was absolutely, without a doubt, broken. The shin is supposed to be a straight line from the knee to the ankle, not take a detour midway down and protrude outward. Rodney was soon wheeled back for surgery, and they fixed the break and put a rod in the leg in order to straighten and reinforce the leg. Give it a couple of months, and he’ll be back on his feet, good as new.

A couple of month.

Crutches, pain meds, being off work, and incapable of living life to the full, life as it was before the accident can make a couple of months seem like forever. Sometimes the healing process can be more painful than the accident that rendered the break.

Sometimes there are warning signs that are less than subtle, screaming that something bad is about to happen. The sound of screeching tires and a car horn as you are preparing to cross an intersection is never a good sound.

America’s Funniest Home Videos puts together montages of ‘saw that coming’ type videos, clips that often include a toddler, a ball bat, and a father standing too close. Every time I see a piñata clip, I know someone’s about to get hit in the crotch, usually dad. It never fails. You’d think that Dad would know that by giving his toddler a ball bat, he ultimately expects to have no more children.

There’s a story where Jesus gives Peter a huge warning sign. In essence, he says, “you’re about to be broken, but after you have been mended, you’re going to be able to help others who have been broken. (Luke 22:32-33)”

And yes, Peter was broken, and yes, after the mending he became a Helper of the Broken.

For Peter, the point of ‘breakage’ was absolutely obvious - to him and everybody else. In a split second, he lost his honor, tainted his integrity, broke his word, and compromised his relationship with Jesus.

I’m sure that in that split second moment, Jesus’ words of promise, using the words “once you’ve returned”, were nowhere to be recalled. And that’s usually been the way it was with me; I forget important Scripture Promises, like “All things work to the good of those who love HIM, and are CALLED according to his purpose (Romans 8:28)” because the gravity of the situation is so in my face that I can’t shake away to see.

But sometimes there are no apparent warning signs.

Sometimes, stuff just happens, regardless of the blame, and things – and people – sometimes get broken.

Sometimes people are broken on the inside. Sometimes their drive is kicked out from under them, their momentum is shut down, their heart is ripped up. Sometimes, just by looking, you can’t tell that they’re broken, but they are.

Sometimes the break is instantaneous, other times it’s a gradual slide.

Sadly, sometimes they don’t realize they’re broken, or they deny the break, saying - and I quote Monty Python - ‘it’s just a flesh wound’.

Sometimes it’s obvious to everyone else but them.

I think we all know that feeling when something we value is broken; that gut sinking feeling that hits when you realize, not just the damage as assessed immediately, but the damage yet to be discovered.

In that split second, Peter’s gut sunk.

Healing and mending usually come by way of baby steps, often so miniscule that they’re immeasurable. It’s like watching a slug race.

Which goes against how we, as humans are. Being an’ instant gratification’ driven race, we expect to be able to be back on schedule, back on track, back on our feet in no time to return to work or before the game starts or by Christmas. The healing process doesn’t stay on track or abide within the schedule we establish. In fact, it laughs.

Healing does take place, but it also takes its time, a time of waiting. “But those who wait on the LORD will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:30)”

Someone gave me a broken piano. Actually, it’s a beautiful piece of furniture, but as an instrument, it was genuinely worthless. What a shame that such a beautiful piece of furniture would be useless.

And when people are broken, we may still see them as beautiful; just not complete. We expect that when a person is ‘damaged’, then they’re not good for anything anymore.

Which is probably what Peter felt, even after Jesus came alive again. Damaged. Broken. Useless.

Jesus said, “and when you returned, you’ll strengthen your brothers.” This prophecy was pre-broken. It means that, although Peter was going to be broken, he was going to be repaired. Not only repaired, but stronger than before.

The piano cabinet set in my garage for over a year before I gleaned the parts out of it that I wanted. I remember thinking, “such a shame this piano is going to go to waste.” But then I thought…

I began to scheme and plan and reconsider the cabinet. I pulled the piano keys out, decorated them with outlines of my kids’ hands, and hung them on my wall. It’s now a piece of art; I call it “A Mother’s Wish.”

The cabinet has been gutted completely. It’s a computer desk now, complete with flat screen computer monitor and hideaway concealment of everything. When fully closed, you see it as a piano cabinet.

When we are broken, sometimes we have opportunity to be stronger than before. Sometimes we become a completely new creation. Even in the midst of ‘converting’ the cabinet, it was in ‘process’. And so are we when we are healing. In process.

“And I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on that day when Christ Jesus comes back again. (Philippians 1:6)”

Opportunities

My brother drove all day and all night to get to Tahlequah, Oklahoma from Jacksonville, North Carolina for Thanksgiving - with his four children in the car.

Thanksgiving was everything it was supposed to be today: family, laughter, good food, fond memories, and new memories created. It's the one day of the year that is truly all about being thankful for what you have, with no hidden agendas or hurried schedules.

My parents, grandmother, sister and her three kids, brother and his four kids, my cousin and his wife and three kids, and my wife and I with our three filled the house out pretty good. We spent most of the day talking and corraling kids and eating - oh, my, did we eat!

It's now the end of the day. My sister and her kids went home, as did my grandmother. My brother and his kids are staying with my parents, and my cousin and his family are heading back to Tulsa for a BMX Tournament that his son is participating in.

And we've gone home ourselves. I'm about to post this blog and go to bed, but not without wondering if I couldn't have done a better job of loving my nieces and nephews, listening - just listening - to my brother and sister and grandmother, and appreciating my mom and dad, this of all days.

We, as a family are a blessed family. May your Thanksgiving Day today have been filled with love, laughter, and opportunities to value one another.

48 Words

Paul says, in I Thessalonians 2:4b-6:

"We are not trying to please men but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed - God is our witness. We were not looking for praise from men, not from you or anyone else."

Today's blog will be short, more in line as a challenge than a thought provoker.

What if this short 48-word shpiel were the primary premise in how we operate? If everything we did was not done for the sake of kudos or paychecks or future back scratches.

I'm not writing this because of the problems in the world, although I do see many of them. I write to suggest that to live with these 48 words as the main motivator in how we live, how we do things, would reduce many of the world's problems, like hunger and poverty and war and poor economic conditions and racial strains to little or no impact.

But I don't wish to be seen as writing this from the disengaged comforts of my home office, to safely and simply proclaim that there are problems in the world out there, and these 48 words alone would fix all of it's problems.

I confess to you, the reader, that I see a lacking, a falling short in my own life, and sometimes, no, most of the time, I stink at being real.

Which is why this verse gets me. These 48 words expose what I see in the mirror - a mask at times, a man-pleasing facade instead of pushing to be a God-reflection.

Real. Genuine. Honest. Trustworthy. These are traits that I don't just wish I had; I want to be known for having these characteristics.

Before I am seen as being clergy, I pray that I am seen as being genuine. Before I am known as being religious, I hope that people know me as being dependable and unselfish. Before I say a word, I desire that whoever is listening won't doubt that I believe what I speak to be the truth.

Today, I will work to leave my mask off all day long, and tomorrow, and the next day.

I pray that all that I do and say is pleasing in God's eyes, and that these 48 words, as spoken by God through the writings of Paul, will speak to me - and you - today.

My Man Card

Friday night, I stood in line with a sea of women to watch the latest in the Twilight Series, New Moon.

Lost in this sea of women was a smaller group, which included myself, my wife, our three daughters, a friend from out of town and her daughter, a friend of my middle daughter, and my oldest daughter's boyfriend, Justin.


Seven girls, two guys. Nine of us in all.


If we could have, I think Justin and I would've escaped to another theatre, maybe watch 2012, or The Blind Side, or even Where The Wild Things Are - anything but a teenybopper flick. But, you know as well as I do that that wasn't going to happen.


I looked around and I realized that Justin and I were grossly outnumbered. There must have been two or three hundred other females ranging from junior high to senior adult just to see the new short-haired, beefed up Jacob.


I look back over the crowd of waiting movie patrons - a line that goes out the exit door and curves down the sidewalk - and count the heads of my male counterparts. From my point in the line, which is close to the front, I count seven.

I take out my cell phone. Technology, even my limited LG Shine, allows me to update my status on Twitter and Facebook. I post my place and position, expressing the raging excitement in my bones - ugh - and put my phone away.

Within the next five minutes, I must have 4 or 5 replies from women, friends of mine, wishing to trade me places at that particular moment in time.

I get a text message from a friend named Holly, replying to my Facebook post: "How many man cards did that cost ya?" Before thinking, and with a poor attempt at humor, I reply, "All of them!"


Hey, wait a minute! What was I thinking?! Justin, myself and the other seven shmucks may have come kicking and screaming, giving in to the puppy dog eyes of our wives and girlfriends, but give up our man card? I don't think so!!


We are finally admitted to the theatre and fill an entire row of seats. The previews come and go, and the movie begins.


This is Friday evening, and the movie officially opened at 12:01am, earlier that morning. I tell you this because I'm not certain if the group sitting right in front of us had read the book (if these details are even in the book) or saw the movie the night before, but they literally shushed the entire theatre during the motorcycle scene, when Jacob was about to take off his shirt.

Omigosh!

And when he did, there was this massive air movement as every woman in that overcrowded theatre gasped at the same time. I almost blacked out from oxygen deprivation.

Throughout the movie - which is very, VERY teenybopper - I realized that the premise behind the story is really nothing new. Girl falls in love with two different guys from opposing gangs, which results in heightened levels of aggression, leading to a climactic fight scene. Sounds a lot like West Side Story, only the gangs are vampires and werewolves.


Welllll, I'm not going to ruin it for you, but that basic premise is almost true. The ending is abrupt, with no defined winner, or loser - at least, not until later in the movie series. We go out to eat after the movie, then head home.

I check my Facebook account the next morning, and I don't know if he's trying to encourage or antagonize me, but a close Marine friend of my brother has slammed me, using words like, 'sitting to pee' and stuff like that. I met Israel in August when I went out to North Carolina to visit my brother, and automatically liked him. Rugged, manly, military, Officer, kind of the typical Marine... need I say more?


On the day I met Israel, I looked at him, then I looked at my brother, both Marines, both Officers, and then I looked at myself: Clergy, musician, non-military, non-Monday Night Football, Non-hunter, living in a house full of women.


Now, I know what you're thinking. But before you go there, let me let you in on a little sumpin, sumpin.


I am, and forever will be a Lifetime Card Carrying member of the Male Gender. My Man Card has no expiration date, and is 100% non-revocable, non-transferrable, non-takeable or giveupable. I'll put my Man Card up against anyone's, any day, any time.


And even now, as I am comfortable in preparing to sort laundry and empty the dishwasher, I can safely say that any man who says they don't do laundry or dishes or don't go to the chick flicks with the women in their life is in denial, and your Man Card is at risk. Doing these things is just part of being a man.

Let me explain.

Real men do laundry, or else they wear traintracked underwears and wrinkled shirts. Real men do dishes, or else they eat off of paper plates and takeout. Real men help clean house, or else they never get to have friends over. Real men go watch New Moon when their wife or girlfriend asks, no, tells them to, or else they sleep on the couch, alone, with a bankie.


And another thing: Guys, if you're married, or dating, guess what? If you haven't been to a chick flick yet, your time's comin'. You will go - just get your Man Card out and show it to the clerk when he takes your ticket stub at the gate. Who knows, you might even tear up during the kissy-face scenes. And never, never deny it.


So if you're proud of your Man Card, you'd better man up, boy.

Not As It Appears

Today is Friday, my official day off. After I drop the girls off at school, I have an errand to run, then I'm heading to the storage shed to work on my piano.

Well...

It's not really a piano anymore, you see. It's days of melodious beauty are long, long gone, and my choices were to either rebuild it, strings and action and all, throw it away or burn it, or find another use for it.

I chose the latter.

There were hundreds of piano manufacturers at the turn of the twentieth century, many of which put more emphasis on building beautiful looking pieces of furniture instead of beautiful sounding instruments. Elaborate woodwork, exotic and fine woods were the selling point, more so than the 100-200 individual components per key, and the craftsmanship that most people would never raise the lid to appreciate.

If you've ever moved one of these archaic monstrosities, you know that they didn't skimp on materials. They usually require three or four, maybe six strong guys to heft them through the doorway... and please, please stay away from stairs with one of these babies. Glad bags are strong, but not THAT strong!

Anyway, being a beautiful cabinet sitting in storage, I got the crazy idea (maybe not so crazy - we'll see) of converting the piano cabinet into a useful piece of furniture, say a computer desk.

Yes, I'm aware of the fact that I may have thrown a bone to the curious, and I promise that once we're closer to being completed, then I'll take pictures and post, either here or on Facebook.

It's a funny look on people's faces when they see something not used as it was intended. But I just can't throw it out; it's too pretty.

It's Like Playing Piano

It's now 7:28am, and my daughters, Shelby and Sara, are punching and pounding on the piano behind me. And I smile, because they're one-fingering Jingle Bells, independently of one another, and on both ends of the keyboard, and honestly, it's pretty horrible.

Now, Sara has pulled out one of the intermediate piano lesson books (which is considerably more advanced than her abilities), and is trying to figure out the left hand part of Allen Ellmenreich's 'Spinning Song' - while Shelby starts on the top end of the keyboard with a purely accidental improv that mechanically fits and sounds, well, kind of cool.

It doesn't take Sara long to get overwhelmed or bored or impatient or whatever it is that makes her turn the page and look at other music. The girls are having a good time, playing together and laughing - more having a good time with each other than seriously trying to make music, although, in essence, they really are.

Here's the spot where I could go on a tangent about how a culturally rounded individual is a great contributor to the home, the workplace, and the community, but I won't. The research is there to prove it - plus, I'd look like a hypocrite, since none of my kids are in private lessons of any kind at the present (although they sing, and are developing nicely).

Instead, I listen to my girls play Heart and Soul, sometimes laughing as they listen to one another butchering the piece. The music that emanates from their hearts by way of their brain, through their fingers, onto the keys and out through the piano's cabinet is their own, based on their abilities...

Which is one of the motivators of music students and musicians. We hear what others play and we want to play it too. I'd love to be able to play Bruce Hornsby's "The Way It Is", but that would require the time to sit and listen and study, maybe watch a YouTube video or two.

So from the musical standpoint, Proverbs 27:17 applies to the gleaning and mentoring that goes on between musicians, whether it's direct or even cognizant of the gleaning. It reads: "Let iron sharpen iron, and so let a person sharpen his friend."

There's a show on the Public Television channel called "The Piano Guy", where the host, Scott Houston shares a familiar tune with step by step instructions on how to play it. He also has guest artists present their renditions of familiar numbers, which is always cool to me because I love to 'borrow' riffs and chords from other players.

In college, I had a friend who could play the intros to many of the piano rock songs on the radio: Journey, Van Halen, the Eagles. He always picked them out by ear, and he was pretty good. I think that's as far as he wanted to develop at that time as a musician. He was a smart guy and had other interests, but he wanted to be able to play a few songs on piano, so he learned to play them by ear.

I will tell you that it's easier to glean what you're wanting to glean when you have what it takes to know how to glean it.

Sara couldn't grasp Ellmenreich because her abilities are not developed enough. I can't play some of the things I hear others play, mainly because my ear training isn't developed enough to pick it up. Musical maturity arrives in platforms and stages, kind of like climbing a staircase, each one dependent on the platform of learning that the student has come from.

Some students can figuratively run up the stairs of learning, while others struggle from step to step.

The parallels of maturing musicianship and the maturing relationship with God are very much alike in that both 'ships' often mature in small baby-like steps, often times with significant markers along the journey.

One of the markers in my life as a musician was when I conquered Beethoven's "Fur Elise". The day that I played this song completely and without errors, I remember such an air of accomplishment, of victory. "Ah", I thought, "I have arrived at greatness..." which was so far from the truth, and, honestly, I now admit to you that I hate Fur Elise in its traditional form.

When God called me to leave the secular workforce and go into ministry, well, that was a huge marker, with tons of baby steps leading up to it. It was at the precise moment of taking just so many baby steps that I was at the place where God would be able to get my attention and make the call on my life come to fruition. But contrary to my sense of victory following my first performance of Fur Elise, I can't tell you that I've arrived at greatness.

Just more baby steps.

I have learned that my walk with God is so much like learning to play piano; the true pianist never quits learning, practicing, growing and listening.

Here's your 'iron' for the day: Just because you know a few songs on the piano doesn't make you a pianist.

I Feel Like Christian Slater...

My wife thinks Christian Slater's hot.

And I'd love to say that that's why I feel like Christian Slater. I mean, don't get me wrong, my wife thinks I'm hot too (at least I HOPE she still does...), and I like Christian Slater as an actor... not so much his hair though.

But that's not why I feel like Christian Slater today, especially if you know that I can't slick my hair back like he does.

Have you ever seen his movie, "Pump Up The Volume," where he's this quiet, reclusive high school student that doesn't have any social life whatsoever? That is, until the sun goes down, and it's time for his nightly radio rant show.

It's during his one-hour show that the meek and introverted Mark Hunter, whose radio alter-ego is 'Hard Harry' (both played by Christian Slater) hooks up his radio broadcast equipment, turns his microphone up, and blasts his thoughts and ideas across the air waves, not seemingly knowing or caring who hears.

Can you imagine the idea of sloshing your thoughts and ideas out into the air like a bucket of water, letting them fall where they may, and not worrying about criticism or rebuke?

Yeah...

I never thought of blogging, posting my writ on the Internet to be read, reviewed, and agreed or disagreed with, until a friend suggest I do so. I've been slapped with moments of situational inspiration for years, writing my thoughts and ideas in Word documents and saving them to my computer... but on the Internet?

Wow, that's scary! What if someone doesn't like what I have to say? What if they disagree? What if it positively or negatively affects their view on the subject, or... what if it's never read at all?

Yeah...

Today I feel like Christian Slater. Or maybe it's Hard Harry. Or Mark Hunter.

In any case, here goes.

My writings and thoughts tend to revolve around biblical relevancies and applications to life as a husband, father, youth pastor, interactor of sociey, son, brother and friend. I am far from perfect, nor am I an authority in Biblical Literature or Theology - I don't read Greek - but it seems that I am an expert in my own experiences, and I believe that the audience of God's Voice in Print is not limited to the highly astute and well versed, but the layman, the parishioner, the 'child at heart' as well.

If my writings do anything, I hope that they ignite a desire and passion to go deeper, look harder, listen more closely to what God says through His Words as it applies to their life situations and conditions.

I've never done a blog before, so I'm a little apprehensive about sloshing myself out there, especially on a routine basis. I have begun to pray daily for a pillar of clouds and fire.

With all of this said, welcome to my Blog. Thanks for reading.