thank you, aldeana

Wow! I just realized how long it's been since I last wrote. I know better than that, but then I reflect on things that have been going on around me lately. Seems I've been caught up in a lot of stuff, busy at work and at home, meaning all along to jot down items on my mind but not quite making it to the keyboard. Lots of "little" life issues tend to crowd up before my face, suddenly appearing larger and more obtrusive than they actually are. Suddenly they become disproportionally large, consuming my focus and attention.

Then the call came. The call that put things back into perspective. I received it just the other night, a friend calling to tell me that the wife of my former high school pastor (I first met them when I gave my life to Christ when I was 15), passed away last week. Her name was Aldeana Hinkle (on left in a 2006 photo with her husband, Don), and she meant every bit as much to me during my early years as a follower of Christ as Don did.

I remember countless times when I would drop by their home to talk to Don. I was going through my share of young adult issues and angst, and Don seemed to have the right word at the right moment. But sometimes he wasn't there. It was then that Aldeana would put down whatever she was doing and spend time listening to my questions, wonderings, confusion and discoveries. She welcomed me as if I belonged in her home and allowed me to safely grow up there, a little bit at a time.

Aldeana had lots to do. Two young kids (at that time) that needed her. A home and husband to take care of. Piano lessons to offer. A personal health history that was less than perfect. She could've maintained her already busy schedule, told me when Don would be back and sent me on my way...and I would've never known the difference. But she didn't. She didn't let urgent things of daily life prevent her from accomplishing what she must have figured were important things that came up. She chose to make time for a teenage kid who was trying to figure out which was was up in life. I guess because she saw something of value in him. Go figure.

I haven't seen Aldeana in years. But her impact in my life, almost 40 years later now, will never be forgotten. Neither will I forget that I must guard against allowing the urgent to crowd out the important, whatever (or whoever) that looks like at my front door.

I'm so glad she didn't.

aloha or allah?

Imagine that you're stepping into your Wayback Machine (remember that great show?). Imagine that you've set the dial for 1949 New York. Now imagine that you're standing on a sidewalk in the Big Apple. You pick up a newspaper. Perusing the headlines, you read that the state legislature has just introduced a bill to recognize the cultural achievements and contributions of the nation of Japan. They've overwhelmingly approved the recognition of a "Japan Day" to be recognized throughout the state.

Just eight years after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and four years following the end of World War 2, lawmakers in New York somehow find it appropriate to honor those who so brazenly attacked our country and helped plunge our globe into a time of chaos and destruction. And you ask yourself whether or not anyone living in Hawai'i (let alone anywhere else in the US) would be excited about such a recognition or celebration.

A crazy thought? A goofy idea? A bad script for Sherman and Mr. Peabody? Apparently not. Lawmakers in Hawai'i just last week authored a bill that would create an "Islam Day" in the state, an official day to recognize and honor the contributions and achievements of Islam throughout history.

I won't launch into my diatribe about the absurdity of this proposal. Of the three dissenting voters, one pointed out that the majority of the Muslim world actually cheered the events of 9/11. Setting aside such a day is like rewarding bad behavior, isn't it? And if Hawai'i recognizes the "contributions" of Islam, will other religions, cultures, and political systems (think of Islam as actually being a political system that uses religion to enforce its rules) be recognized as well?

There are those who believe that the greatest threat to our existence is not attack from without but the kind of accommodation from within that leads to political correctness and appeasement. That's what this feels like to me. And how do you think those living in New York might feel about this proclamation?

I can only imagine.

when God shows up (part 2)

Finishing yesterday's story about Mike...

As Mike and I sat crying over the loss of his daughter, I turned to him and said, "You know, someday you'll have to forgive the man who killed your daughter. Because you're a Christian now, you'll need to ask God for that kind of forgiveness. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday..." Mike nodded in silence as we continued to sit, talk and pray together that early morning.

The next day Mike was sitting there again. Crying again, though not like the day before. As I sat with him, he told me that he'd called his wife and told her to sell his guns. He didn't need to come home because he'd forgiven the drunk driver that had hit and killed his little girl. In that moment, I knew that Mike followed Jesus. I told him that he might be more of a Christian than I, since I'm not sure I could have offered that kind of forgiveness that quickly. Mike's face reflected a peace he had only recently come to know. he was a new man, and it showed.

I think it was near the end of that week that our Community Assistance team decided that Mike needed to go home. He wasn't completely free of alcohol yet, but they felt he should be with his family. He nervously (and probably a bit reluctantly) agreed, so they purchased a ticket and placed him on a 29-hour bus ride to Green Bay. Those 29 hours became five days as Mike had to get off in Chicago and go to the hospital. But he did make it back to Green Bay, where he has called me periodically since. Here's a compilation of some things that have taken place in the years since he left (kinda chronologically, as I remember them):

- Mike was reconciled with his daughters, and they and his ex-wife forgave him;
- he turned himself in for some old outstanding warrants and did his jail time, so that he'd have no more trouble from his past;
- he found a roommate, a job and a church;
- he had people repeatedly ask him if he was high because they saw something so different in his eyes, and he would use the question as a chance to tell them how Jesus had changed him;
- he had someone help him get new front teeth (his were missing from too many fights!);
- he called to tell me that he and ex-wife had become good friends again, even though she didn't want to remarry him;
- several months later he called to let me know that he and his ex actually did get remarried!
- he got a great job managing a tire store, and they were sending throughout the region for training opportunities;
- he and his "new" wife were getting ready to buy a house!

Not every story turns out like Mike's, I know that. But I also know that if God can change a man like this, he can change anyone who's willing to come to him. And with that example emblazoned in my heart, I remain encouraged as we spend time with those around us, telling them about the hope to be found in Christ. The hope that Mike found. The same hope that's available to them. And we'll keep sharing. Because we never know just when or how God's gonna show up.

And when the next Mike will be sitting across from us.

when God shows up

My last post made me think again of some of the good things that have come as we've reached out to people on our streets. I've said that this kind of work is often a low fruit-yield kind of thing, so we hold tightly to the victories God gives. We savor them, squeezing out of them every bit of encouragement, strength and lesson, so we're equipped for long days ahead. I'd like to share one such story with you now. One that took place a few years ago, but continues to inspire us today:

Mike was a middle-aged homeless man who came regularly for food, prayer and connection. He was friendly, outgoing and searching for a better life. But Mike was a stone-cold alcoholic, and couldn't escape its clutches no matter what he tried. He claimed he wanted to get sober and had family in Wisconsin who told him if he got his act together, he could come home. But there was no going home. He was trapped, enslaved, and destroying himself. He hated what he'd become, and lacked the power to make it different.

We had lots of talks about what it would mean for him to follow Christ, and how Jesus could make the change in him that he so desperately desired. How it's futile to try to get clean first then come to Jesus, but that He's more than willing to change lives given to Him. It sounded good...too good to be true. Mike struggled with Jesus' call and with his own struggle responding to it. Months passed and little looked different. But God was quietly working on Mike, and one day he told us that he was ready to give his life to Christ and to walk a new way, although he knew it would be the hardest thing he ever did.

So Mike prayed and called on Jesus to make him a new man. Little by little things changed in his life. He was baptized into his new-found faith, and habits and patterns began to turn. Not that he didn't drink any more, but he drank markedly less. His demeanor changed. He began to speak with hope and possibility for himself. His grandest dream was to be reconciled with his family and he dreamed of the time when he might return sober, ready to resume a relationship with them.

One morning I arrived at work to find Mike sitting outside, crying. Crying hard. I sat next to him and asked why. He told me that he'd just received word from his ex-wife that their 8 year-old daughter had been killed the night before in an auto accident. Hit by a drunk driver. Mike said he told his wife to get his guns out and have them ready, because he was coming home to kill the man who had killed his little girl. I cried with him for awhile. A long while. Not much to say in that kind of moment. Only hurt with him in his loss.

Mike was at a crossroads- a place where the next decisions he'd make and path he'd choose would impact the rest of his life. In my next post, I'll share just what happened and the difference it made...

a great day for a party

It's warming up. The days are brighter, longer, and filled with hope. At least that's how I feel today. I'm reading through the New Testament letter to the Colossian church this morning, and I'm reminded again of the supremacy of Christ. Paul tells us (me) that Jesus is the glue that holds everything in this universe together- everything. And the shedding of his blood on the cross was the needed ingredient to bring peace and reconciliation to humankind, reconnecting us to a vital relationship with the Father. I need that word today. It helps me keep my priorities in order. Helps me remember why I do what I do. Helps me look beyond the immediate to the bigger, eternal picture.

In my last post, I talked about those at our church's door looking for help. Often it's physical relief they seek, but even that lends itself to the opportunity to talk about other, deeper issues. We get a lot of people coming by, as you might imagine. Sometimes I confess I get weary listening and helping. Sometimes the fruit yield in this kind of ministry is small, and it can be discouraging. Sometimes I forget why I'm really here.

But not yesterday. Yesterday the angels threw a party. You see, last week I spoke with a man who'd been coming off and on for food and prayer. His current situation was not good, he was looking at being on the streets, and he was at the end of his rope. We provided enough assistance to get him through the immediate crisis, and he told me he wanted to bring his daughter and talk more about Christ.

Yesterday he did just that. He returned with his 16 year-old daughter and the three of us talked at length about what it means to follow the path of Jesus. At the end of the conversation they both told me they wanted to make that commitment! We prayed together, they received Christ as Lord and Savior. I gave them Scriptures to read about baptism. Told them to come back after their lunch and we'd go from there.

Sure enough, that afternoon they were back. We talked some more, answered some questions, and then I had the privilege of baptizing them into Christ. A party in heaven broke out as two who were lost had been found! And I remembered again why I really do what I do, why I'm really here. It's because people need to know. They need to see. They need to hear. They need to feel and understand God's love for them, regardless of their situation. What Christ has done for them. How much they mean to him. How valuable they really are. Colossians 1:13 says it like this:

For he [God] has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

PARTY ON!