Christmas Scavengers

Recently I got to observe people in one of the wildest places on earth: Sam's Club at Christmas time! I made sure to arrive at approximately 3:30pm on a Saturday, which is a horrible time for productive shopping but ideal for sample consumption. Yes, I am a sample mooch; I confess this with a bit of shame. Nevertheless, I like free food, and I will continue to whole-heartedly pursue any strategy that will satisfy my palate. One thing I've learned, whenever there's a higher traffic pattern at Sam's, they really go all out with tons of samples.

As I was making my rounds, I was astounded to see that I was not the only one with this intention. People of all persuasions were circling the sample boths like third-world vultures. As soon as a new morsel reached a plate, men and women alike would reach in and snatch it in the blink of an eye. What blew me away was that these people were not even trying to act nonchalant. They had resorted to their natural instinct for survival, going on a full offensive to gather food.

After watching this for several minutes, I learned that I had to resort to this sort of behavior if I were to enjoy the riches of the sample aisle. It paid off big. I enjoyed two different kinds of shrimp, eggnog, cheese on a cracker, salami on a cracker, sausage and cinnamon toast, chip and queso, two kinds of cake, turkey salad on a cracker, bruschetta, olive dip and ham. It was magnificent!

On my drive home, I began to ponder this event. Soon I was completely mystified by my experience. What in the world could possibly possess adults who have more than enough money to survive, who in all likelihood had not missed a meal in the last decade, and who are (I am assuming) normally somewhat dignified in public to act like a bunch of alley cats? Where would this motivation come from?

Christmas Thoughts

In my time off, I've had some time to learn from various life circumstances. Allow me to share. On Wednesday evening, my wife and I returned home to find a bit of a flood in our apartment. Our neighbor's hot-water heater had burst, spilling its contents into our bathroom and part of our bedroom. Long story short, I ended up sucking up water with a shop vac until the later hours of the night.

The next morning I was scheduled to go with a team from our church for the weekly pick-up from the local food bank. We were scheduled to meet at 6:30am; local temperature this particular morning was a chilling 31 F. In addition, the overpasses had iced over the damp night, leaving a number of slick spots and more than a couple traffic-altering fender-benders. It was not looking to be a great day.

Our pick up time was scheduled for 7:30, but the first palate was not loaded on our truck until nearly 8. Neither did our palates of food come quickly after the first arrival. We loaded what we believed to be the last arrival around 8:30. After I was several miles down the road, I got a call asking me to turn around, the final palate had just been pulled.

When I returned, they loaded a top-heavy palate of milk, juice, and sour cream in the back of my truck. At nearly every other stop light on the 15 minute drive to the church, Miguel and I had to redistribute the boxes in hopes of making it to our destination with all the goods. Unfortunately, one whole case of milk toppled out the back of my truck into an intersection. It was deemed an irretrievable loss.

That morning, weary and frustrated, I wondered why I had even bothered. Why not just call in about the flood and catch up on some sleep? Frankly, it was sheer obligation that motivated me to go, but I came to understand a deeper reason to move forward in future moments like this.

In the heart of the Christmas season, we celebrate the serendipity of the Nativity scene, complete with an overstuffed manger for the Lord to enjoy. We wrongly rid the stable of its splinters, sawdust and stink. We make it easy, but for the Lord of Hosts to come incarnate, ease was not a part of the plan. He sacrificed and subjected Himself to the common inconveniences and aggravations of life. So when life demands that you endure discomfort and frustration for the good of others, remember that in doing so you are walking the path blazed by Christ. Be inspired as you gain a greater understanding of the way He lived.

And I'll try my best to do the same.

Take Some Time Off

Allow me to demonstrate...



Enough said.

Enjoy Enriching Hobbies

Last time I began a three part look at what to do to get through dry times in your writing. Today I want to focus on the importance of engaging in some enriching hobbies. Eclipsing the sole motivation of improving your writing, hobbies are vital for personal health. One thing that all high-impact people recognize is the need to live a balanced life, and developing and enjoying a hobby or two is a key part of that equation.

One of my weekly hobbies is weight-lifting. Ever since I can remember, I've always wanted to lift weights. I have been a bit of a gym rat for 15 years, and I am probably more addicted to it than ever. Three times a week or more I head over to Fit For Life to work off some of the stresses of the day and to push my body to its limits. Every time I leave, I walk out those doors with sharpened mental focus, increased energy and a renewed confidence for the next task that comes my way. (If you are looking to add physical fitness to your schedule, call Fit For Life and ask for King Hoover. You'll not find a better health architect!)

Two of my favorite seasonal hobbies are deer and duck hunting. I love escaping the maddening grip of the city to soak up the sounds and smells of nature. Add to that the fellowship of lifelong friends and family, along with the thrill of the hunt, and you can begin to see why I love November. Just a few weeks ago, I got together with my Dad, a couple cousins and two of my closest friends on this planet. In addition to having a side-splitting good time, I managed to bring this guy home on Saturday...


...And this guy on Sunday!

(Yes, that's a 7 point followed by an 8 point!)

I realize this probably is not for everyone, so here's your chance to provide some other examples. What hobbies do you engage in to reset your mental balance?

The Sabbatical is Over!

After a month off, I've finally stored up enough thoughts to be able to post on a fairly regular schedule. As most of us have experienced, writing has its rich times as well as its dry times. Times come when the words seem to flow like rivers; at other times nothing even remotely interesting comes to mind. And let's be honest, few things are more discouraging than knowingly writing a dull blog.

So, what do you do when the compositional gears of the mind are stuck in neutral? Three things have helped me through this recent valley: 1) Read good stuff, 2) Enjoy enriching hobbies, and 3) Take some time off.

To reinforce the application of these three tips, I'm going to spend the remainder of this post and the next two highlighting how I practice each principle.

Read Good Stuff

Most who like to write also have a love of reading, a fortunate connection. Reading restores the verbal well and stretches the mental muscles. If you are always putting out but never taking in, you'll soon run dry! One key to get the most "bang for the buck" in your reading is to diversify your consumption. Read different topics and different authors. The broader your reading list, the deeper your writing.

If you do not know where to start, here's 5 must reads:

1. Just Walk Across the Room by Bill Hybels

2. Power Through Prayer by E. M. Bounds

3. Dinner with a Perfect Stranger by David Gregory

4. Courageous Leadership by Bill Hybels

5. From Every People and Nation by J. Daniel Hays

What about you? What books do you recommend?

Peace on Earth?

Big news on the wires: Al Gore wins the Nobel Peace Prize.

Yesterday, I had intended on writing a more moving, less-controversial blog. With today's news, I just cannot control myself. I am unable to stifle myself. All I can do is groan, "What a load of bull!"

Al Gore, aka Chicken Little, already won an Academy Award for his film An Inconvenient Truth. Of course, I have no problem with that. What I have a hard time stomaching is that Mr. Freak-out deserves the Nobel Peace Prize for squawking about global warming and living in a 10,000 square-foot mansion with $1,200 electricty bills. Yes, I do find that a bit hypocritical. Even though he does purchase "green power blocks," most observers would acknowledge that practice is simply a reinvention of the Catholic Church selling Indulgences in the corrupt days leading up to the Reformation.

What really disturbs me, however, is fact that what has been the most respected recognition for peace is going to those involved in a debated environmental discussion. The jury is still out on global warming. If one day the majority of environmental scholars comes to assert Global Warming as fact and not theory, then the work of Gore and the IPCC will deserve wide recognition and respect. Until then, as long as Global Warming enjoys the same theory status as the Big Bang, honors such as the Nobel Prize should be reserved for those fighting in legitimate battles for mankind.

A prime example is the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Africa. The emergency status of this continent is undisputable. Moreover, the people are dying each and every day that passes, so why are we putting so much energy and recognition toward the work of those that may fight off a climate change that might come and could kill us? Instead of rewarding Al Gore for his rants, the Nobel Peace Prize should have been given to Bono or World Vision for their work in fighting the AIDS pandemic.

(If you wish to challenge me on this matter, I would invite your comments.)

Gino's East

One of the goals of my recent trip to Chicago, aside from picking up some practical how-to's about small group ministry, was to try some authentic Chicago-style pizza. Allegedly developed by the chef at Pizzeria Uno in 1943, Chicago-style is almost a whole other category removed from the standard pizza with which most of us are familiar. For our experience, my friend and I settled on Gino's East in Rolling Meadows.

We went there starving. After only a few mozzarella sticks and a roll, our pizza finally arrived. It was a 12" pie, with the thickest crust I'd ever seen on a pizza. We did our best, but neither Kirk nor I could complete 3 pieces of this monster!

Flying

This past weekend I flew to Chicago for a conference at Willow Creek Community Church. It was a great time, and I learned a lot. More on that later.

One of the more interesting parts of the trip was my flight up there. We flew Southwest, which I really enjoy for the most part. The only problem I have is when you're in the last group to board, you always get stuck with cruddy seats. All of the good ones are taken first, and I got to choose from the leftovers.

As luck would have it, I had to sit between two rather large men. Apparently, these men liked to drink. They also liked to talk, which made for some very interesting conversations. As we were taxing down the runway, one leaned over me toward the other one and said, "Hey, Bob. You're gonna die!" They laughed a little, and then the first guy remembered that I was sitting there. He turned to me and said, "You're not scared of flying, are ya?" I replied that I was not, much to his relief. He then turned to me and imparted some of the deep wisdom that he had picked up along the way. "You know, you really don't have anything to worry about until you see dirt coming in the front of the plane!"

Profound.

Justice for All

Certain events transpire to remind us of the countless injustices of the world. This past Wednesday the arrest of Nuon Chea called attention back to the seldom-remembered horrors of the Khmer Rouge. Also known as "Brother Number Two," Chea served as deputy leader to Pol Pot, the enigmatic figure who led the brutal regime that terrorized Cambodia from 1975-1980. During their reign, approximately 2 million Cambodians died by torture, execution, or starvation as the Khmer Rouge sought to turn Cambodia into an agrarian utopia. The cities were evacuated by force, the people were forced into rice fields and farm land, and anyone who resisted was punished.

For more than 26 years after the Khmer Rouge was routed from power, its leaders were not held to account. Until this year, no conviction had ever been sought for the brutalities committed against the Cambodian people. When I discovered this fact on my first trip to Cambodia in 2006, my only thought was, "Where is justice in this?" How could such evil go unpunished?

Charges are finally being brought against the most senior surviving leaders of the Khmer Rouge. Kaing Guek Eav, better known as Duch, was charged July 31, 2007 for his role as commander of S21, the most imfamous torture camp in the country. Chea's arrest represents the highest ranking leader who will be charged; Pol Pot died in 1998.

It's hard to imagine that anything can be done on this earth to cover the evil done by the Khmer Rouge. A part of me is so disturbed by my visits to S21 and the Killing Fields that my own rage terrifies me. These feelings must be shared to an exponentially greater degree by the people of Cambodia, whose parents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters died at the hands of this murderous regime. Could any tribunal ever exact justice for horrors such as these?

Yet, all of the oppressors and perpetrators of the Khmer Rouge and every other diabolical government will stand before The Judge who does have the power to properly see justice done. Those who remain defiant, as Chea has to this point, will receive unspeakable punishment. The ones who turn to Christ in repentance before that day, as Duch claims to, will be pardoned, their punishments being carried out on a hill in Palestine in the days of the Romans.

And what of the one who has caused all of this, the hater who champions injustice? Will justice ever be done?

Yes.

Images

What a difference six years can make. In the course of that time, much has changed. While I could spend hours pondering the changes our country has gone through since the attacks of September 11, 2001, I would rather focus on the change that must happen within us.

This morning, at the same time when the World Trade Center towers collapsed 6 years ago, I spent the better part of an hour speaking with my friend, Saleem, who happens to be a Muslim. He owns a gas station near my church, and we have struck up a friendship over the course of the last several months. Each Tuesday morning, after our staff prayer meeting, I head over to his store and pick up a couple of granola bars for breakfast. We usually talk for a few minutes or so, and then I head on my way.

Today, we got into a much deeper discussion as he shared with me his journey from being a student in India, to his time as a young engineer in London, to moving his family to the United States as he tried to provide for his family in the best way he knew. He showed me a picture of he and his wife, with their two young adult children. What a beautiful family! And, how he loves them!

Our conversation highlighted a lesson that the Lord has been showing me in recent months. We often tend to break humanity down into groups based on our own understandings and perspectives: good or bad, rich or poor, conservative or liberal, etc. A more useful way would be to look at people through the commonalities that we share. For instance, in Saleem, I saw today a picture of the image of God, a trait that all of humanity has shared since creation. In the hijackers, we saw a clear demonstration of mankind's depravity and hopelessness. The two images come together in a powerful way, reminding us how we each live in both camps. Throughout our lives, each of us display the image of our Creator as well as the extreme "fallen-ness" of the world we inhabit. It is in recognizing these opposing pictures that we begin to view all the people of the world as Christians should: a tarnished version of what one is supposed to be, but with the tremendous potential of being polished and buffed to a brilliant shine!

Painful memories

As a child, I used to ask my mom to let me take piano lessons. I wanted to learn how to play songs like the Star Spangled Banner and other great pieces of music. By the time I was preparing to enter fourth grade, my parents signed me up to begin taking lessons. Then I found out the truth. Contrary to my prior assessment, I did not want to learn how to play the piano; I wanted to know to play piano. This information would have been nice to have before I signed my name in blood to the Piano Czar, Mrs. Site (*name changed for security reasons).

Mrs. Site seemed like a mild-mannered Presbyterian lady, that is until one's hind-quarters landed on her piano bench. Then she pulled out all the dictatorial force she could muster and blasted all "beginners" with both barrels. Everything had a proper way to be done. Hold your hands like this, sit like this, feet like this, etc. She even had a little red book which was to serve as our practice log, a record of the amount of time we had practiced the previous week. Eventually, I learned that watching an episode of Alf from the piano bench at home should be counted as 30 minutes of practice time, providing that I practice during the commercials.

Of course, the doctored practice log was her standard for how much a student should have improved since the previous week. Oh, how she hated it (and us) when we did not progress as prescribed. She would pull out the harder pieces and make us try to play them. When I would struggle to find the notes, she would berate me for not keeping the rhythm. To make matters worse, she would even get out here little rhythm counter, a little pendulum that could be adjusted to match the count, and she would set it in motion to "give some guidance." Tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc. It would go on mercilessly, and I would try desperately to keep up as I searched for the keys. Bang, bang, bang! Instead of realizing that this little tactic was not helping, she would then add to the confusion by counting out loud and even clapping her hands. Tic-toc-tic-toc. "One, two, three, four." Bang, bang, bang, bang!

If the lessons were bad, then the recitals were nothing less than diabolical. She would have all of her students come to her house on a Saturday morning, and we all had to sit and listen to each other play pieces that Mrs. Site had picked out. Once my mom had even tried to inspire me by getting me a special music book with simplified version of the Rocky theme. When I showed it to her and asked to play it for the recital, Mrs. Site said, "That's nice for you to play for fun, but for the recital, I want you to play 'Polly Sue by the River'." I hated 'Polly Sue by the River', but Mrs. Site had spoken. So we all gathered together, one big group of miserable kids, and had to listen to everyone play. I remember sitting down at the bench in from of all those kids and seeing the rhythm-keeper out of the corner of my eye, intimidating me, daring me to mess up.

Once I had stumbled through my piece, the other kids followed until we got to the "Advanced" musicians. With these, Mrs. Site would not merely call out their name. To celebrate the occasion, she would talk about how difficult the piece was and how hard so-and-so had worked to prepare such a fine presentation. Mrs. Site left no doubt who the "special" students were.
Ultimately, I was allowed to stop taking piano lessons after three long years. I was inexpressibly glad to be out, thankful to no longer hear that darn rhythm-keeper. However, as the years have passed, one question has consistently baffled me: Why in the world did my parents keep on forcing me to go to these stupid piano lessons at their own expense!?!?

2 Fast 2 Furious

We always begin with noble intentions...like blogging weekly. The pace of life often forces us to define our priorities, and we soon find that what once seemed important to us could afford to wait. I'm sure these sentiments are familiar to us all. While the general experience of being pushed to our limits in managing time is quite similar, sometimes the particular nuances of how individuals spend their personal time is most interesting.

Let me share a picture into the life of a pastor on a busy weekend. He gets up on Friday (his day off) and heads out to a fundraising clay-shooting event at 9am. After a round of sporting clays and the catered BBQ lunch, he briefly mingles with a few participants. He then heads home drop off his trusty shotgun, drink a glass of water, and then proceeds to do some necessary shopping. Once this errand is done, he heads into the office to finish up a couple of projects that should have been done the day before. By 4:30, he heads back home to clean up for a wedding rehearsal that night. After the 1.5 hour rehearsal (not his preference!), he picks up a pizza and heads home to his wife.

The next day he gets up, has breakfast, and helps his wife with some of the laundry before going out to make the first of two Sam's Club runs for the day in preparation for a singles party that evening at his in-laws' home. He then helps them prepare for the party for 3 hours before leaving to prepare for the wedding, which happens to start at the exact same time as the singles party. Not great planning on his part. He makes it to the wedding, participates in a beautiful ceremony of 35 minutes in length (yes, 1/3 the length of the rehearsal) and returns home. He then changes clothes, heads over to the party, and plays Scattegories until 10:15. After everyone has left at the house is somewhat returned to normal, he goes home and crashes for a few hours of rest.

When Sunday dawns, he awakens and begins a new day. He and his wife go to worship at 8:30, followed by Bible study. He gets lunch for several of the leaders in his area, stops by the second service to welcome new church members, and then heads right over to a strategy meeting with his leaders. After a very productive 3 hour meeting, he gets a 30 minute break before his next meeting, which only lasts an hour and 15 minutes. Exhausted and thrilled at the day's events, he heads home, makes his Sunday night pancakes, and then blogs about his day to share his joy with the other 4 people who read it!

Now, I must say that this weekend was unusually busy for me; this is not how I normally live. In fact, it would be impossible for me to sustain this pace continuously, but for a few rare moments, it is a lot of fun. I must also point out before you waste any emotional energy sympathizing with me, that I was the one who put this schedule together. If I am a victim, I am only a victim of my own ambition.

The Start

After months of debating the pros and cons of blogging, I have decided to throw my voice into the sea of opinions currently available on the web. Not that I think my opinion really needs to be heard; rather, I think I need to express it. I need to write and put my ideas on the page in black and white. Often, it is only after seeing one's thoughts written down that the inherent absurdity of said ideas becomes apparent. At the same time, I just like the friendly give and take that blogging allows.

I should probably explain the title I have chosen. It is a play on a couple of different ideas. First, I used to work on a landscaping crew when I was in school, spending most afternoons digging holes. Now I dress a little nicer when I go to work, but some of the lessons I learned then are still very helpful. Also, I have, on occasion, spoken too quickly and have gotten myself in a relational hole. Sometimes I spend a lot of time digging my way out. It may well be that this blog takes me down that road a time or two! Finally, I enjoy digging through some of the tough and controversial issues that come up along life's journey. I love getting to sift through the ideas and emotions surrounding these issues and trying to come up with a thoughtful response, especially when considering these ideas from the point of faith. I think this is a vital practice for Christian leaders to adopt as a part of their lifestyle for the good of the Kingdom.

All this is to say, expect a variety of topics on this blog. Sometimes I'm going to purposefully word ideas in a controversial way to force you to think about it. Other times, I'm just going to share fun, hilarious stories from life. On occasion, I may even give a few glimpses into the things I'm having trouble understanding. Dialogue with me, and let's learn from one another. Tell me where I'm wrong, but be prepared to back it up! So, that being said, let the fun begin.