Satan, Bite the Dust, on Halloween and everyday!

God's Boys will be good boys!

Thank you for being a helpful fellow

God's Boys will be good boys! I am grateful to see some of the glimpses of smiles, erupting from the darkness. God can carry us through the dark times. He is with us, when we cannot smile or laugh and he is with us when all is smiles and gaffaws. I can't wait to see God grow you into His man, who can laugh and cry with the same consistency and integrity. Love you. Sometimes the difficulty of slurred speech draws out a dependence on God to speak through you that can come in no other way. I am not sure that this is what Moses was praying when He gave his tongue to God, as a reason, he couldn't talk for himself. I do pray that your articulation and exposure to the abilities of speech will not puff you up to others whose tongues are not as articulate. I see you attempting not to use your strong man voice and scare us. I see you experimenting with projection and how much projection commands the attention of your brothers and sister. I see them look at you with that look of tremendous respect and fear that I had from my siblings. What a power that is. What a trust that God gives you when your parents and siblings look at you when you speak with expectation of something that makes sense. It should make you pray, not to be an embarrassment of that expectation. It should make you ask God for good direction to give them as they look at you like that. God will do that, Only as much as you take the baton from the elders before you. We think that because we can see the top of the mountain that we have vision. That vision is a trust. God intends for you to use it to His glory. There are pitfalls and triumphs and I pray for God to give you wisdom. Surely, there is much of the labor of your elders, in spirit and in culture that is noteworthy and much that is folly. It is the job of the Man of God to be discerning. To respectfully toss aside that part of the spiritual inheritance that is folly and to put to good use that which is for the glory of God. May God give you true wisdom and humility to see the true gold from the false, In Jesus' precious and faithful name. Amen.

Victory In Jesus, My Savior Forever!

God's Boys will be good boys! Sometimes we have to wait generations to see the fruit of answered prayer. I was very touched to know that Andy Murray was the first Scottish person to kiss the precious US Open Cup in 76 years. What a privilege. I know that my Grandpa would have remembered the last time. He probably was as good as many of the players on the "tour" in those days {if there was a tour}. It makes me think of heaven and running to my Savior to own His very presence forever. Never to see it diminished by my sin and by my inconsistent attention. What a day that will be. Thank God that it is not up to our performance that we would "Kiss the Son". All the glory for our receiving that eternal trophy will be the Savior's who made it possible for us to receive it. Though it takes many years to get there, let us remind one-another of its superior weight of importance, when we grow weary of remembering and other things shine bright in our mind's eye.

What, My son?

God's Boys will be good boys! Squeezing the last joys out of Senior year is a real and wonderful experience. All of a sudden you become aware of the beauty and the awesome nature of your experience. God has been with you through the earlier years, now your eyes seem open. Yesterday's procrastinations become today's opportunities. The things that stopped you from talking to that person and doing that strange thing are no longer an obstacle, when you won't be here next year. I think that it is a good thing that we generally categorize the High School years into grades and label them. It is a microcosm of life. Teaching us to number our days. To get a heart of wisdom and prioritize our follies, if one can prioritize their folly. All too soon, we awake as adults and responsibility is upon us. Leadership and character, hopefully replace the folly that was our childhood and we are ready to "carpe diem". Our day siezed for God or for our follies. If there is anything that I admire about the hippie generation is that they did just that, "carpe". No parental lasso could hold them, it seemed. I refuse to live a stoic, unintentional life of my parent's generation, they hollared. Many didn't live past their folly, for the confusion that errupted, but we learned that the teen years are nothing to sneeze at. We must be at helm, if we can't be in control. We must help them become who they will be, if we are going to be parents. Tears and missed opportunities are lamented and then we pick up and go on. Staring at the porthole of life through Senior year, makes it look do-able. I thought that I was just going from class to class and I look up and find that I have acquired skills and awareness of myself that I didn't have before. Each teacher and each class gives you a tool that you will take into your next tasks. The clock strikes 12 and it is graduation and adulthood and it is your turn at the helm of life. We applaud your sacrifices and strengths, win or lose. We applaud the opportunity of have been a spectator of your trivia and triumphs. What next? Freshman year at another task, of course. It may be college. It may be the simplicity of labor and toil and carving out a life for yourself, amidst that limitation that providence has dealt you. We are your launching pad. We have little, but a complete love for you and support for your accomplishments; that love and support is taut. Like a good net, it will catch a good many flailing efforts. You can lean on it and learn from it and if God blesses you to develop a support system akin to it, if you have nothing else in life, you will be supremely blessed. Keep your youthful enthusiasm and preserve truth for the people behind you.

First Day of Senior Year!

God's Boys will be good boys! Yesterday was the prestarter. Looking into the porthole into life is a breathtaking experience, isn't it. The counsellor says, what do you think you want to do? A piercing question, like the pain of pieced ears. I have thought about it, but there is no real solid penetration like a stranger asking the question. You are on record, it feels like. Is everything we say so recorded? I feel like I would like to preach. That may be. Well, here we go, jumping into the pool of preparation. Jumping into the porthole into real manhood. Childbirth for men, or as close to it as men will get. There is change, there is pain and then you are there, in manhood, responsible, taking care of yourself and others. Leading people to heaven? Giving of yourself? Follow your father, that is the real "legit". The legitimacy that my father was always dreaming of. The freedom to see your own father and put your foot into his shoeprint and walk. "Now, You do it!"

Being a man means representing God's strength in crisis

God's Boys will be good boys! It was a beautiful picture of God's strength to see the officers and officials representing order, amidst the chaos of tragic events. Womanhood has its place. There is comfort and strength in womanhood. The stalwart nature that God has invested to men is a trust. The line has been blurred, but the representation is still the same. The eyes pan the landscape for a representation of stability. The men that are around represent that, for God. God has deposited a little of Himself in the strength, large or small. Their eyes and their standing in times when the rest of us are collapsing. Tears may fall, or they may have the measure of strength to keep their tears when the world seems to be falling. God can use that. There is a place for the empathetic tear to fall and there is a place for the strength of place that calls everyone to order. Like my coach, Mr. T. whose pointer finger is indellibly in my minds eye when there is a task beyond to attend to. I can't, I said so many times. My knees are knocking together and I don't know how to keep it together amidst this. The whistle has blown and you will do what you have practiced. Sure enough, his strength was enough to stand on, when the whistle blew. Men are that for so many around that they do not know. I pray that God will strengthen you to be that for others as well.

Do the butterflies sense breaks? What, My Son?

God's Boys will be good boys! Yesterday, it was a moth that was banging its head on the window of our counseling meeting. When Elyse broke her arm, it was a butterfly banging on the window at Aunt Jackie's house. She seemed to want to tell me about the break of my child's arm. Jackie, I said, why would that butterfly want to come in the house so fiercely. She didn't humor my craze, then or now. Yesterday, it was a moth. What is broken, my son? Is it heart or head? I can hear my dear departed Dr. asking pain or pressure? It is amazing how in touch creation is to the people that are around them. I want to help in the healing of the break, but I am broken myself. When I was most sensorious of my brokenness a butterfly came and sat on my shirt while I was walking. I wonder if they smell it, like a flower? Are we more humble? Are we groaning inside and calling them?