Important Announcement

For personal reasons, I’m taking a sabbatical from being company chaplain. The sabbatical will be for an indefinite period of time. I appreciate your understanding.

For almost three years now, I’ve enjoyed serving those who have wanted to be served by the company chaplain program. I’ve sent 150 Weekly Words, never missing a week. I’ve led company prayer meetings. I’ve counseled and prayed with the hurting, the seeking, the celebrating. I’ve led four prayer breakfasts at our training conferences, led three company-sponsored movie showings, taught five sessions on spiritual disciplines, developed a small business chaplain initiative website (which hasn’t been launched yet), and have loved doing all of it. Thank you for participating in any of these activities.

During the sabbatical, I will not be leading any of these activities as company chaplain. If you enjoy the Weekly Word, I encourage you to visit www.weeklyword.net and read a past entry. If you like to gather for prayer, I encourage you to keep gathering. If you need prayer or counsel, find someone else to meet with. I know God, who sees all things, will help you if you ask for it.

Again, thank you for your understanding. I’m looking forward to this time off to nurture my own faith, which has been neglected as of late.

A Night at Hibachi

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13.8)

We decided to do something special to celebrate Day 30 of our Adoption Year, and since the tattoo place was closed, we settled on a Japanese hibachi dinner. We thought Rex would appreciate cooking that was familiar--at least from the same continent--as well as waiters who look like him more than we do. The four of us took our seats around the big hibachi grill, ordered, and were soon eating our appetizers. Rex loved his soup, and as I looked around at my happy family, I sighed satisfyingly. This was a good idea.

We had four, maybe five minutes of bliss until the chef sprayed oil on his grill and lit the thing on fire. Even before the flames exploded and we could feel the heat on our faces, Rex started wailing. I quickly grabbed Rex from his high chair and held him close, turning him away from the evil grill. Soon he calmed down--I had distracted him with chopsticks--and he could once again face the chef. The chef seemed to be prepared for this kind of reaction because he held up a little man and said, "No pwoblem, he put out fire-ah." Then he squeezed the little man and water sprayed out, right into Rex' face.

Nice, thanks Iron Chef. Rex started crying again, and so Colette moved him over with her, the farthest away from Iron Chef as possible. He apologized to me and all I was thinking was, "I hope you don't throw broccoli at my boy." I've eaten here before and that's part of their thing. They throw broccoli at you and you try to catch it in your mouth. Well, thank God he caught on and didn't toss any vegetables at Rex. He must have attended sensitivity training, which taught him that if first the fire scares the boy, and then if spraying water in his face doesn't fix it, then you skip hurling broccoli at him. After Iron Chef left, Rex calmed down, ate his whole meal, and we had a lovely time. Maybe next time I'll settle for the tattoo.

You don’t always know what you’re going to get in life. There are people and circumstances and seasons you don’t have any control over.

I’m glad Jesus is constant.

Why Be Ashamed?

“I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes.” (Romans 1.16)

Yesterday our daughter Asia wore something special to school. It was a t-shirt her friend gave her. He had grown out of it, and when he realized he was too big for it, he set it aside for when he’d see her again. They don’t see each other often because he lives in the Philippines, but when we were there recently, he brought it out, and she was thrilled, and she wore it yesterday. The shirt is special not only because of who it’s from, but also what it says. In big letters it says, “JESUS.”

Now, the shirt’s not a name tag. Asia’s not announcing that she’s God, not telling the kids the answers to the test because she’s omniscient, and she’s not sitting in class and playing kickball at the same time because she’s omnipresent. She’s not turning their water into chocolate milk or their chicken nuggets into cupcakes. She’s not even flying. Asia’s not God and she knows it. But she does know God, and isn’t afraid to say it. I think that’s the point of the shirt, why it makes the shirt so special.

In the Bible, Paul writes, “I am not ashamed of the gospel,” and then he gives the reason why: “because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes.” To speak of the gospel is to speak of Jesus. The Greek word for gospel is “euangelion” and is literally “the good news.” It’s shorthand for the good news of God’s Kingdom, the story of God. The story is this: God made us, we strayed from Him, God sent Jesus, Jesus didn’t stray, Jesus died because we strayed, Jesus resurrected from the dead, Jesus offers us closeness with God who made us. If we accept the story, we are saved. The gospel is that simple.

Is that really something to be ashamed of? Something to be embarrassed about? I have to confess that at times in my life, I have been. But really, why? All of us has junk that needs to be dealt with. Why be ashamed of the power of God that saves us? Why be ashamed of the one who offers salvation?

JESUS.

When Blessing Becomes Abuse

“If you find honey, eat just enough—too much of it, and you will vomit.” (Proverbs 25.16)

I’ve been eating too much lately. It’s not that Chips Ahoy trucks are delivering to my house. I just find myself taking big first portions and even bigger second portions, and eating desserts more often. It probably started the weeks leading up to our adoption trip, and has gone on ever since. I don’t know exactly why I’m eating more. Is it a way to cope with change? A way to control my circumstances? In the Philippines a teenager was surprised that I used to be a swimmer. He said, “Oh, with your body I thought you were a football player.”

Eating too much (or too little) isn’t really about the weight—having a swimmer’s body or a football player’s body. It’s about what you do with the blessing. The Bible says that if you find honey—something sweet—eat just enough or else you’ll throw it up. Finding the honey is the blessing. To really enjoy it, you have to eat just enough. Otherwise, if you eat too much, you won’t enjoy it. The honey will turn on you and you’ll vomit it up. The blessing will turn to abuse.

This simple principle—let the blessing stay a blessing lest it be abuse—has so many applications. Food, drink, technology, relationships, entertainment, you count them. There are so many areas of life that are meant to be blessings, but they get out of control and we end up abusing ourselves through them. We eat too much; we drink too much; we get too close, we watch too long; and so that which God intended as a blessing ends up as abuse.

So let me ask you this—if you give your child a toy and he hurts himself with it, wouldn’t you hesitate to give him one again? If God gives us a blessing and we hurt ourselves with it, wouldn’t He hesitate to give us one again? And should we hold back the toy, should God hold back the blessing, it wouldn’t be punishment; it would be protection. I wonder how many blessings we miss because God is protecting us, because we can’t handle them.

I wonder how many more He’d like to pour on us, but can’t.

What We Admit

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12.9)

I have something to admit. I’m not just admitting it to myself; I’m admitting it to others. Actually, I’m boasting in it, glorying in it, getting it out. Here it is: We can't do this anymore. By this, I mean the life we've been living. It's not working and something has to change. I was waiting to see if it would turn around, but it hasn't, and I don't see that it will. So on Monday, our daughter Asia starts in public school.

We thought we could do it—adoption and homeschooling at the same time. We admit we can't. It seemed good on paper—Colette would school Asia while Rex played in the next room, and when Rex napped, they'd have really focused school time. But real life is different than it is on paper, isn’t it? Set and solid reality is different than mushy and mashy idealism, isn’t it?

It turns out two year-old Rex doesn't want to play in the next room when Asia is around; he wants to play with her. And Rex wants his Mommy. And Rex' naps aren't always the entire two hours Colette had planned for, which leaves her rushing to try to get everything in should Rex wake up early. This has left Colette completely stressed out, Asia wanting something else, who knows what Rex is thinking, and I, well I want my wife back.

In the Bible, Paul writes that he will boast—actually means to glory or rejoice in—his weaknesses so that Christ may reveal His power. You see, God is not delighted so much in showing himself at our strength. No, He prefers to be seen at our weakness. That’s how He likes it. And now—right now—we are weak. My wife is one of the strongest I know because—get this—she’s not afraid to admit she’s not perfect. Her glory is in her limitation because that is where God resides, takes up residence. Truth is, it requires more strength to admit you’re weak, than it does to pretend you’re strong.

And so we will be fine. Asia is really excited for public school. She's going to the same elementary school I did. And Rex, he'll get one-on-one time with his Mommy. And Colette, she’ll experience Christ in a way that perfect people can’t. And me, I’ll get my wife back.

I'm proud of what we admit.

Always in the Right Place – The Follow-up

Note: To learn about Typhoon Ondoy and how you can help, click here.

You can also read the new "Adoption Year" blog. As an adoptive father, I'm blogging thru this first year, from Day 1 thru Day 365.

“The steps of a righteous man are ordered by God….” (Psalm 37.23)

Several weeks ago I wrote about how our adoption trip to the Philippines got delayed the day before we were supposed to fly out. Although disappointed by the delay, God’s promise that He orders the steps of a righteous man encouraged us that He was up to something. I wrote, “And now I’m excited to see what will happen because when God orders your steps, He always places them in the right place.” How true is that!

When we arrived on the new date, we landed with clear skies. We had blue skies and dry weather almost the entire trip. Had we arrived on the previous date, our trip would have been soaked by torrential downpours and flooding—it had rained for two weeks straight. And on our new departure date, we flew out with no problem. Later that day, the Philippines experienced a devastating typhoon, called Ondoy, which caused catastrophic flooding, destruction and loss of life. The impact on Metro Manila is said to be worse than the impact of Hurricane Katrina on New Orleans.

Do you see what happened here? Sandwiched right between bad weather and horrific weather was our trip. And when I say sandwiched, I mean it. Think of the thinnest piece of smoked turkey breast you can ever imagine, so thin it can hardly be called meat, and that’s how narrow our chance was of missing bad weather in the front or horrific weather in the back. And we missed both, narrowly. What are the chances?

They’re not really chances when God is ordering your steps, though. Chances are random; God’s steps are deliberate. I’d rather live by the steps of an intentional God than on the whims of chance. This doesn’t mean I won’t be touched by hardship or heartache, trial or turmoil. Living by God’s steps doesn’t guarantee a pain-free life, because sometimes God uses pain; sometimes He places us right in the path of the storm, on purpose, and we don’t escape it. But in either case—storm or not—I’m thankful for the deliberate steps of God.

He always places them in the right place.

The Son to Prove it

The Son to Prove it

"Without faith it is impossible to please God." (Hebrews 11.6)

As most of you know, we’re in the Philippines to adopt our son. We have him and we’re heading home tomorrow. We’ve heard from many people about how noble and sacrificial it is for us to adopt, as if it’s some great feat that requires so much faith. To be honest, it doesn’t feel that way. In the beginning, yes. When we were filing paperwork and applying for clearances and having medical appointments, it was hard to see where this would go. But now, not so much. Now it feels like we’re ripping off the system, like we’re cheating. Now it feels like we’re ending up with everything, like the scales are tipped in our favor.

It doesn’t feel like faith is required when you hold Rex, or hear him say “daddy,” or play airplane with him and he cracks up with laughter, or when he waives a kiss goodnight and gives you a thumbs up sign. It doesn’t feel like faith is required when he’s splashing in the shower or singing a tune you’ve just sung to him. And it certainly doesn’t feel like faith is required when your older daughter tells him, “I love you,” and you know she means it because she’s waited a long time for him. It simply doesn’t feel like faith is required at this point. But I know it is.

Sometimes faith is easy; sometimes it’s not. Sometimes you see the reward for your faith; sometimes you don’t. Sometimes it’s a crooked road; sometimes it’s a straight one. Sometimes you walk it alone; sometimes you walk it together. Sometimes faith has many stages; sometimes just a few. Sometimes you do a big work because of it; sometimes faith does a big work in you. But let me tell you this—it’s always good. Because with faith, we please God, but without faith, pleasing God is impossible. And it’s always worth it…

I have the son to prove it.