A Life Redeemed

I am a huge Star Wars fans. From the time the first movie came out when I was a kid, I was hooked. So it was a special treat last Friday when I got to attend "Star Wars in Concert" courtesy of some appreciative folks in the church. The main scenes of the six movies, arranged thematically, were projected on a massive LED screen while the John Williams score was played by a full orchestra and choir. And C3PO narrated the whole thing! Ok, it was Anthony Daniels, who played C3PO, but it was his voice and mannerisms, so close enough.

Now I know that not everyone likes Star Wars. In fact, it sort of has a reputation for appealing to the geekish among us. Those who dress up like the characters, and wait in long lines in the middle of the night so that they are the first to see the new movie when it comes out. {In the interest of full disclosure, I did see the last movie the day it came out. But a friend (who shall remain nameless to protect his dignity) and I waited until the late afternoon and were not dressed up. We did, however, have to wait in a bit of a line.} And when we arrived at the concert, I was reminded why. Walking toward the arena, I notice a group of 3 dressed as Jedi, complete with toy light sabers, over here. And another in a long black Sith cloak over there. I saw lots of Princess Leia buns on the sides of ladies' heads. And a few Amidala get ups as well. And one guy who absolutely nailed Darth Maul so much so that people were stopping him to take his picture. So I turned to Denise, who is much the opposite of geekish and was dressed quite fashionably for an evening in Miami, and told her, "I think you are overdressed!"

Perhaps one reason the movies have such a following is the powerful story that arcs across all six. In fact, the last segment of the concert highlighted the climax of the story and was titled "A Life Redeemed." Darth Vader, of the iconic black mask and heavy breathing, is confronted with a choice. His mentor, the evil Emporer Palpatine, is torturing his son, Luke. With Luke suffering and calling to his father, Vader is moved by love for his son to turn against the Emporer. He grabs Palpatine and throws him over a ledge to his death. In the process, Vader himself is mortally wounded and soon dies, but not without a last moment of reunion with his son.

A familiar theme, isn't it? One giving his life for another. It shows up in lots of stories, both in print and on film. And I think it resonates so much with us because it goes back to the greatest sacrifice ever made. Each time, it reminds us of the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. The One who was so moved by love that He died in a most terrible way that we might live. Now that makes a great story!

Reality Check

I did it. I have registered for the Miami Half Marathon. I am willingly paying good money to go out and run 13.1 miles. I like to think of it as the next step in my running evolution. I have run several 5K races. Even placed 2nd in my age group in a race last year. (I'm not going to say which one because then you may go online and see how few there were in my age group, not to mention my time.) I have run the 7 Mile Bridge race 3 times. Which is over half of a half marathon. So I figure 13.1 miles is the next challenge. Another distance I can say that I have done.

To help me along the way, I am following a training program through the Nike+ website. It's kind of a neat gadget that works with my ipod to keep track of how far and how fast I run. I can look at the site and see neat graphs of my runs, set goals, join challenges, and the like. And this training program gives me specific workouts based on my goal time for the race.

And just when I start to think I am doing ok, making progress to my time goals, along comes an incident to keep me humble. Like the time I went into a local drug store to pick up a few things. Living in a small town, you get to know the people who work in the places you frequent. So as I was talking with the cashier, she mentioned she saw me out this week. More specifically, she said she saw me out "walking" one morning. I am admittedly no speed demon. When I say I run, I realize I am using the term loosely. But I think I at least look like I am doing more than walking. So I assuaged my ego by telling myself she must have seen me during my "I'm over half way done so I am going to catch my breath and take a couple of minutes to walk" break.

Then there was yesterday morning. I had run south along the bike path for a couple of miles and was taking my aforementioned walk break. I had turned around and started running again when a car stops in the bike path a few hundred yards ahead. Someone gets out and starts walking toward me who I think I might recognize. When I get close enough, I realize it is someone from church. I take off my headphones to say good morning and am greeted by concern. "I saw you walking so I turned around to check on you. Are you ok? Do you need a ride home?"

I guess I have brought this one on myself. My main response when people say they see me out running is, 'Sorry you had to see that.' Apparently it is not a pretty sight! But in spite of it all, I'll be back out there tomorrow. You might not see me as much, because I think I'll stay on the back roads for a while. But I'll stick to the program. After all, it's only 3 months to race day!

"The Lost Symbol"

I picked up Dan Brown's new book over the weekend. Maybe it's not "Baptistically correct" for a preacher to say this, but I have enjoyed his books. I like the fast pace and suspense of the stories. Plus I like trying to solve all the puzzles before the characters do. Don't get me wrong -- I do read with a wary eye as he has proven to not exactly be a fan of Christianity. But they are usually good read nonetheless. Here are some observations on his latest book.

1. I cannot read the book without seeing Tom Hanks face as Robert Langdon. I am a visual person, and my first mental image of Langdon was someone much different. But after seeing the movies, Langdon is now Tom Hanks. I am not sure if that is a function of excellent casting or Hanks' really goofy haircut.

2. Brown again uses his "Facts" page before getting to the story. I still contend, however, that this is the page that is the single most damaging part of his books. Readers are lured into this logical falacy: if all these things are facts, and the book's characters make arguments based on those facts, then their conclusions must also be facts. In "The Da Vinci Code", that meant Jesus married, had children, etc., etc., etc. A note to anyone who reads any of his novels: remember they are works of fiction, not fact, no matter how acurately they describe art or architecture.

3. There are a couple of pointed remarks on the tongue of Langdon early in the book that make me think Dan Brown is rather pleased that he has gotten under the church's skin with his previous books. Think of all the books written and sermons preached to argue against the anti-Christian premise of "The DaVinci Code," including a sermon series at our church. The Catholic Church was particularly outspoken when the movie adaptation of "Angels and Demons" was released. They say there is no such thing as bad publicity, but I think Brown is particularly relishing this particular notoriety.

4. As the old saying goes, "everything old is new again." Apparently the same goes for heresy. Mal'akh, the main baddie, needs Langdon's help to unlock a portal to the Ancient Mysteries, secret knowledge that is believed to confer nearly god-like powers on its possessor. This is little more than gnosticism (from the Greek word for knowledge) that Paul had to confront in some of his New Testament letters. He adds to this a primer on Noetic science (from the Greek word for mind), which appears to be the power of positive thinking on steriods thanks to the latest technology. But no matter how new, shiny or 'scientific' this new package is, it's still the same old stuff.

5. I said earlier I like to try to solve the puzzles. So I am wondering where this book is going to end up. But not only in matters of plot and character, but implications. My hunch is that he may be trying to undermine any sense that the founders of our country professed a Christian faith. The setting is Washington DC, with its landmarks playing the central symbol-laden role. So far, the symbols are Masonic, Greek, Roman, and mystical. I am sure, as I continue reading, I'll be forced to some historical research about our great nation, its founders, and the capital. Right now I am wondering if Brown is subtlely substituting the world view of the designers and builders of DC for that of the founding fathers. Namely, that while this artist or that architect may have a mystical view, they may not necessarily correspond to what, say, George Washington himself believed. Even if a particular fresco or building bears his visage. Especially if it was built or painted years after his death.

Keep in mind I am writing all this after reading only the first 100 pages. So if I am off the mark, here's hoping for a little grace.

Whitewater Lessons

For the last few years on our summer vacation, one of the highlights of our trips has been whitewater rafting on the Nantahala River. This summer was no different. Except it was. And a lot. Let me explain.

The Nantahala is mostly made up of class II rapids, making it rather tame by rafting standards. So tame in fact that you can rent a raft and head down the river with no guide. But only after they try to scare you with the video that tells you how you can die doing it! After the video, our family boarded the bus and headed up river to begin our adventure, just like before. Only this was the first trip that we had a raft to ourselves and I was to sit in the back and act as guide. Like I said, this time things were different.

So we're in the raft and pushing off into the current. The river begins almost immediately with the second hardest rapid on the river, Patton's Run. The instructions from the video are to stay right and avoid the rock on the left, aptly named "Jaws" for its tendency to gobble up rafts and spit the riders out. Mind you we have been in the raft all of 30 seconds when we hit this rapid. And while I have rafted 6-8 times, I do it at best only once a year and never from the rear with the responsibility to steer the raft. Plus the raft is lopsided with 2 on one side and 1 on the other. And the 2 paddlers are stronger than the 1 and are pushing the raft right toward that evil rock. In trying to get us going the proper direction, I overcompensate. So now the raft has spun so that we going backwards. At which point I hear clearly shouted above the rushing water, "We're all going to die!!!!!" (Any guesses where that came from?)

Not to give away the ending, but we did not die. In fact, no one even fell out of the raft. And all in all it proved to be quite a good day. Because now this wasn't just a rafting trip, it was a teachable moment. We learned that when things didn't exactly go as planned -- let's just say that wasn't the only rapid we went through backwards -- panic didn't help. That everybody felt more secure when Dad confidently gave directions. But mostly that the only way to get down the river was to work together and trust each other.

And that's what we did. For the next hour and a half, we learned how to keep the raft pointed down the river. How to spot the rocks that would hang up the raft. How to enter a rapid and hit a wave to get the kids up front a face full of ice cold water. (Ok, I figured out that last one myself and did it as often as I could!) How to keep from being pushed too close to the trees overhanging the river. How to laugh and have fun as we paddled.

All was going well until the the last rapid, Nantahala Falls. It is the fastest and toughest rapid on the river as you drop over about a 5 to 6 foot ledge. We pulled off the river and walked to 'scout' the rapid at the overlook. We watched a few boats go over just fine. Then we watched a full raft come flying down the river, get turned sideways, and turn over dumping everyone in the river. All that anxiety from Patton's Run was back. Can we keep the raft straight? Can we avoid that big rock and take the right line through the falls? What happens if we get dumped? Should we even try this?

I'm proud to say that we did. Yes, I was nervous. I think we all were. But yes, it was a blast! We pushed back into the river. Took the bend on the inside just like we needed to. Slid by that large rock, catching the wave off its side to slingshot us forward. Hit the Falls dead center, boat straight, riding the water at its crest over the 2 ledges. Beached our raft and went to look at the picture that proved we did it.

Who knew that a fun day on the river could prove such a learning experience. Now let's hope we remember and practice those lessons on dry land.

My New Bible

I got a new Bible for Father's Day. I held my old one up a few weeks ago during a sermon, and the gift idea was born. And as you can see by the picture, my old Bible was looking quite the worse for wear. The binding along the spine is peeling off. The edges are quite tattered. Just a few letters are still visible from the engraving. And then there is that crease right down the middle of the cover. I think that comes from folding it back to keep my place when speaking, a habit I probably picked up by copying one of my favorite peachers (just don't know which one.)

Last Sunday I preached for the first time with the new one. And I was proud to. After all, its leather cover still shone, all my name was beautifully engraved, and the edges were still gilded in silver. So I entered the pulpit, put out my notes and began. I opened my Bible to the passage, ** a prize to all who comment with the correct text ** laid it on the pulpit and moved away (apparently I wander back and forth when I speak). And when I came back to read the text, the Bible was closed. Which would have been fine had I used the handy ribbon marker to hold my place. But I didn't. So I had to fumble through it to find what I wanted. And then I read it. And laid it down once again. And it closed again. And I didn't mark my place again. So I found it again and carefully put it down to see if it would close. Which it tried to do. But I caught it. And decided to turn it face down to hold the page. But as I wandered off, I felt bad about doing that to a new Bible. Instead I picked it up and carried it around the rest of the morning. But NOT with the cover folded back like I did with the old one that caused the crease.

I learned something else using the new one for the first time: they moved things around in it. Now before anyone gets the wrong idea, let me explain. All 66 books are there, with all their chapters and verses in the right order. It's just that I am very visual, especially as it relates to my memory. I had used the same Bible for more than 10 years; and I knew, for instance, that Psalm 23 was on the left page, about 1/2 way down the right-hand column. That John 14 is on the right page, left-hand column almost to the bottom. That Revelation 21 is also on the right page, left-hand column just a little higher than John 14 starts. Needless to say, they didn't exactly get printed in the same places. Which makes it a little disorienting for me to use it. What's a preacher to do?!?

After thinking for a while of just using the old one (and also hoping my kids wouldn't notice or be offended), I changed my mind. I think I'll just take the plunge and use the new one. After all, it's really like getting to know an old friend. And I think that in a few years I'll pull out the old one and lay them side by side. Who knows what stories the creases and tatters on the new one might tell.

Here Comes the Rain Again

I am a big fan of thunderstorms. Growing up in central Florida, you could set your watch by them as they rolled in nearly every summer afternoon. The towering clouds building on the horizon called us home for a little respite, an hour or so of down time, before we headed back out to play until dark. I'd sit on our screened porch, coke and snack in hand, listening to the rain lash out at the metal roof, watching the lightening play and hearing the thunder cackle in response.

Our first summer out of seminary, Denise and I lived in Cape Coral in a upper floor condo overlooking the Caloosahatchie River. There I got a different view as I watched the storms roll in. From our balcony, you could see the line in the water as the rain stirred its surface. I could watch it, even hear it make its way down the river, across the canal, inching its way ever closer. Then I could feel the first drops of rain blown into my face by the wind that pushed it along, chasing me inside. All outdoors was first hidden by the sheets of falling water, then exposed by the brilliant streaks that lined the sky.

This all changed a few years back when Hurricane Wilma came through. It was the strongest storm we had ever stayed put for, and it left quite mess to clean up after it passed by. But it wasn't really the storm that scared me. It was the effect it had on our dogs, particularly our most neurotic dog Cassidy. Since that time, even the slightest sound of thunder sends her into a nervous fit, shaking and panting and climbing into your lap. Which can be annoying in and of itself. But since recently the storms have been rolling in at night, it has gone to a whole new level. Let me paint the picture...

It's 2:00 AM and there I am, all cozy and sound asleep when a distant rumble is picked up by her sensitive ears. She is immediately on edge, up and pacing the floor. This in turn rouses the other dogs who jump down and join the pacing. Did I mention that it is a tile floor? So I am stirred by the clicking of the nails of 12 little paws against it. Another rumble, this time closer, and Cassidy panics. Those nails are now scraping at high speed against the floor, which being tile gives her no traction and she runs in place like the characters on so many Saturday morning cartoons. Finally able to make progress, she flees to the only safe place she sees, namely under the bed. Unfortunately, her round body doesn't quite fit, so I hear more urgent scraping of paw on floor as she burrows. Finally still and quiet, another clap of thunder gets her going, only now she is stuck under the bed and doubly panicked. In her alarmed state, she is whimpering, clawing, shaking the whole bed - sort of like those old motel beds, only no quater needed. So I get up to free her, hoping to calm her, and praying the storm has passed. When she is finally relaxed enough to lie down, I climb into my bed, lay my head on the pillow, and notice that all too familiar flash through the window.

1001. 1002. 1003...

And here we go again!

VBS Laugh Break

Thanks to my nephews Stephen & Ian for pointing this guy out to me a while back. This is one of my favorite clips from Christian comedian Tim Hawkins.

Finals Thoughts... NBA, that is

At the end of our men's Bible study last night, we turned on the TV to catch the beginning of game 4 of the NBA finals. (For the record, I am rooting for Orlando Magic to beat the LA Lakers, mostly because I am do not like Kobe Bryant.) Down 2 games to 1, this was a vital game for Orlando to win. Yet as the pregame introductions were being made, I noticed an ominous choice by the home team, the Magic. Center court, right alongside their mascot, right in the middle of the cacophony that excites the crowd as their team is introduced, stood Nick Anderson. "Who is Nick Anderson?" you ask.

1995 NBA Finals. Game 1. Orlando vs. Houston. Magic up by 3 with less than 30 seconds to go in the 4th quarter. Houston is forced to foul. And they foul, you guessed it, Nick Anderson. As a 70% shooter, Magic fans expect he will make the free throws and effectively end the game. He misses both, badly. Yet somehow, he gets the rebound and is fouled again. And again, he misses both. Houston gets a 3 pointer to tie, wins the game in overtime, and goes on to win the title as they sweep the series, 4 games to none. {If you're so inclined, you can watch those misses in this video; they start at about the 2:45 mark. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKir54uGiWA }

So that's the guy they pick to pump up the crowd. Not a good choice, I thought. Even went so far as to mention to the other guys how surprised I was to see Mr. Anderson out there. Just doesn't seem like the guy to trot out, the memories to stir up, before a must win game. Not that I'm superstitious or anything. It just seems these sort moves never turn out well. But I told myself I was being ridiculous; it was just a way for the Magic to pay tribute to their first NBA Finals appearance. So how did the game turn out? See if this sounds sort of familiar.

Magic up by 3, less than 30 seconds to go in the game. Lakers are forced to foul. Dwight Howard goes to the line. Misses both free throws, badly. Lakers get a 3 pointer to tie the game and go on to win in overtime, going up 3 games to 1 and nearly guaranteeing they will win the championship

Told you it wasn't a good idea!

P.S. Remember, I warned you sports would show up. I'll try to get back to more spiritual stuff next time.

What A Difference 10 Years Make

Church exterior from about 10 years ago.

Church exterior today - new paint, landscaping, railings.

Church interior - this is before we arrived, but it is largely the same as when we came - red color scheme, wooden pews and hanging lights. The only major difference is the paneling was already replaced with a coral rock facade.

Current interior - much brighter, new chairs and blue as main color.

Our children from about 9 years ago.

Same tree. Much different kids.

First Church Directory here in 2000

The happy couple 10 years later

With Many Thanks

What is there to say but a huge "Thank You" to all who made Sunday such a special day for our family. I cannot believe that we have been in Key Largo for 10 years now. I know it is cliche, but time does seem to just fly by. I cannot adequately express what a privilege it has been to be a part of this church for that time. You are a gracious, generous, and loving group of people.

Now for some specific thanks. To Shelley for her song during the service - not that it was tough to get up and preach after that or anything. To JonWesley and those who contributed to his song during the dinner - I've always said that pets are people too! To Janice and her helpers who planned, decorated and cleaned up after the festivities - thanks for making it a memorable day. To Betty, Carlos, Billie, Doug, Bill, and all those who spoke both publicly and personally with us - we're looking forward to making more memories. And finally to Leslie for her nearly sermonic thoughts - guess I better watch my back.

I was thinking of showing some pictures during the service, but didn't get it all together in time. So I am working on another post with those pictures - a sort of then and now look at our time here. Check back soon for a trip down memory lane.

Of Thrones and Grace

"Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." --Hebrews 4:16

What do you focus on when you read/hear/quote that verse? I imagine many of us camp out on the word boldly. And with good reason. To be able to approach God in prayer is one of the greatest privileges we have as Christians. We can come with confidence that He hears us. We can know with confidence that He answers.

Or maybe the word that catches us is grace. It is a throne of grace, not of law. Of grace, not of judgement. Of grace, not of wrath. Stuck in our sin, we are under the law, subject to judgement, objects of wrath. But because of what Jesus has done on the cross, we can receive what we do not deserve - God's grace.

A few nights ago at our Wednesday prayer meeting, another word jumped out at me. And until this week, I had glossed right it. And it may be the one word that holds the key to all the others. Throne. It is a throne we approach boldly. It is a throne of grace.

We aren't much for thrones. That's how the whole American experiment got started, by throwing off the power of a throne. A rebellious streak runs through just about everyone of us - it's really only a matter of degree.

But here's the kicker: if it's not a throne, why would I want to come at all, much less boldly? It doesn't make sense to come boldly to a friend's living room; I was invited. Or to come with confidence to a doctor's office; I have to foot the bill. Boldly only means something if I am coming to a place I should approach with caution. A place like a throne.

And if it's not a throne, what value is there in the grace? Grace that doesn't come from a throne is sympathy at best, pity at worst. And that doesn't make much difference. Now give someone a presidential pardon and that changes everything. Because there is some authority to back it up. Even if that authority is only of one of the countries on one of the planets in one of the solar systems in one of the galaxies of the universe. So we can multiply that authority times eternity to begin to get an idea of the kind of power that flows from the throne of the universe.

Now we're onto something!

Memorial Day Memories

For the last 10 years, I have equated Memorial Day with traffic. This is the view we are treated to every Memorial Day Monday, right out our front door, as US 1 turns into a virtual parking lot starting at about 10 in the morning. When we moved to Key Largo just before the holiday in 1999, we had no idea the masses that would descend on our new hometown for the weekend.

So that first year, we drove around looking for a beach. We had this idea that the Keys were miles and miles of sandy beach lining both east and west sides of the island chain. Boy, were we ever wrong! The closest thing to that is Anne's Beach, which does at least have sand. On the beach. But not so much when you get in the water. There it has muck. Which wouldn't be so bad if you could swim. But for the first 100 yards out, it is no more than knee deep. Needless to say, we didn't stick around long.

Our son's birthday coincides with Memorial Day, meaning we usually celebrate over that weekend. So a few years later, we had planned a bowling party. What we forgot to factor in was all the aforementioned traffic. What should have been a 15-20 minute drive to the local bowling alley took us well over an hour. Mostly because of all the people who spend the weekend at the "world famous" Holiday Isle Resort. So we had the added highlight of seeing all the revelry up close as our car crept by. Actually we had the task of trying not to see all the sights as we went by.

This year I had as busy a Memorial Day weekend as I can remember. Three birthday parties, including our son's. A Friday sunset wedding. A Saturday afternoon memorial service. All that and I didn't travel more than 3 miles from home. Guess we have learned a thing or two over the years.

What's In a Name

Here I am finally jumping on the bandwagon. While much of the world has moved on to more trendy things (Twitter, for instance), I will start blogging. Not sure why it took so long to do this -- perhaps I wonder who in the world would want to follow my mundane ramblings on any number of subjects. But my wife assures me that this is a good idea. So here I go!!

Now about the odd looking blog address. "Baqash emeth" is a transliteration of Hebrew for seeking truth. The word for truth - emeth אֱמֶת - is particularly interesting to me. It is called 'the seal of God' in rabbinic writings. The three consonants are the first, middle and last letter of the Hebrew alphabet, signifying that in God truth dwells eternally and fully - from A to Z and everywhere in between. It is also described as an acronym for the Hebrew phrase that means "God is King forever," reminding us that truth is founded on the reality of God's lasting rule. All of this finds its fullest expression in the one who said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life" - in Jesus of Nazareth.

After all that, don't think this is going to be all serious all the time. I imagine I'll slip in some sports, especially during football season. Or a few stories about my family. And who knows what else. I'm really not sure all the places my mind may wander, but I would love to have you along for the journey.