Reflection Paralysis

Middle age shouldn't be confused with the Middle Ages. Historians tell us that while the rest of the civilized world was advancing in those centuries, Europe was blanketed in the "dark ages." No one looks back on the Middle Ages in Europe and says, "those were the good old days," (save for the then dominant church, the land barons and perhaps the Barbarians.)

Middle age, on the other hand is hopefully a season of enlightenment. We come to know ourselves for what we really are. We become more self-evaluative, more reflective. We learn to appreciate and value our primary relationships. We come to terms with our own mortality. Our "legacy" becomes a more viable concern. And I can find myself paralyzed in the process.

I found myself in a high school classroom last week talking about "identity" with the students, and how our identities are formed and informed. The consensus among them seemed to be that (with collective regret) we tend to allow our past, our culture and other people to determine who and what we are. This got me thinking.

Is it possible that with the onset of middle age we find ourselves less constrained by the opinions of others but increasingly shackled by our past? Do our own failures and unmet expectations now determine who and what we are? If so, I'm toast.

It's taken me, and continues to take me a long time to acknowledge who I am. And it may be that my own season of middle age is forcing the issue. There is a choice to be made, even as it may not appear to be a this-or-that crossroads.

I can choose to be dictated by my history of failures and unmet expectations. I can be disappointed by having exhausted my supposed entitlements. I can hope the culture and people in my life will somehow affirm me enough in order to affirm myself. I can hope my "good's" outweigh my "bad's." But I know where this option leads: failure and unmet expectations. A vicious cycle. (If I don't learn from my history, I am certain to repeat it.)

Or, I can place the source and stability of my identity in Someone else's hands. My Bible tells me that Who God is, and What God has done determines who I am and how I can live. It's not about highlighting what I've done well, or glossing over what I didn't do so well. It's not about trying to convince other people I am more admirable than I know myself to be. It's not about blaming culture or other people, fanning the flames of a victim mentality. It IS about acknowledging God's work, through Jesus, on my behalf, unwarranted and unearned on my part, determines and informs who I am now.

It's a choice to believe that it's not what I do, but what Jesus has already done. That's grace. And that's the choice I make. Because, here in my own middle ages it's the only option that doesn't end in darkness.

Internal Combustion

I see myself as one of the few "anti-bloggers." I have many friends (mostly acquaintances) who write frequent blog posts with much to say, with many words, and with more wisdom, expertise and authority than I could possibly muster. Perhaps I find myself with different motivations. Blogging (now a cultural verb) helps me, through trial and error to learn to convey thoughts with fewer words. (Good thing, I suppose. This makes my own mother, the former English teacher happy.) I also write to prove, a least to myself that I am not an expert in my field.

In the ongoing process of my own "sanctification" (a Bible word for "maturing as a follower of Jesus") it is clear to all I am not yet a finished product. Therefore, my blog posts are intended to be more about my learning than what I may think I already know. (I know, this sounds like post-modern angst.) This is my attempt to again fillet my soul by electronic medium. I hereby submit to you only the latest example, under a possible sub heading of "Don't Be Like Mike!"

I was assigned to be the band teacher at TMHS the first three days of this week. I figured I could fake my way through jazz band, wind ensemble, song writing, concert band and the history of rock and roll. I hearkened back on my own history in school band/s, a few college classes and my own wits. Admittedly I had a blast. Once the kids knew "Mr. Mike" was indeed serious about conducting rehearsals (or making them write papers on song writing or the history of rock and roll) they bought in. They all made it easy for me. It helped when I told them at the onset of what I knew...and what I didn't know (or had left behind in the annuls of time.) But here's what I didn't see coming...

I didn't know the school district is short of subs. On Monday, after showing up for "0" Period only to find out they don't meet on Mondays (gurr), I actually found myself responsible for two classrooms; my band room, and the choir/strings/Spanish/health class next door. It was chaos, (double gurr?) On Tuesday, again due to said sub shortage I devoted my two "prep" periods to covering morning P.E. classes, both teaming with adolescent humanity. (And, yes, we had an injury...which happens every single time I have a P.E. class. I am consistent.) The DVD player in the band room decided not to function that afternoon, so I was forced to resort to Plan B (fake it) mode.

By Wednesday I harbored two extremes; optimistic and accommodating externally, while seething internally (where the real 'me' resides.) I found myself ready to tell anyone willing to listen of how the school, school district and the world-wide educational system (if there is such a thing) were against me.

However, and before I got irreparably too deep into any of those conversations I had a God moment. And what I heard, if not audibly was, "Stop and think, you fool!" (My words, not necessarily God's.) And what I realized then and now is, all of it was parcel to my own sanctification. These experiences were going to do one of two things: break me of my pride, or break any positive reputation at the school I may have in the "bank." I came home that day, chastised and newly reformed.

So today I wrote my children (as I do each week) and told them what I'm now telling you: my ongoing sanctification is not yet complete. I got it wrong, very wrong, as self-pity almost always is. My internal was out of joint and my external wasn't far behind.

There you have it. That's what I learned already this week. Pity, I may have to re-learn it all again if it doesn't stick this time around.

Oh, and I see I've also botched the word limit on this post.

Expectations Management

This week has been dominated by chaos. Sleep has been a misnomer. Slowing down to actually chew my food a myth. Yesterday I had the new experience of conducting two high school classes, at the same time. Whoever wrote that syrupy "serenity prayer" is apparently living on a planet other than the one I inhabit.

But here on a rainy Friday it's "Alaska Day," (our very independent State's version of the 4th.) Alaska Day means no school, so today and for the first time in a while I am afforded time and opportunity to reflect on the past week. In so doing I've landed on two related realities;

In truth, my week wasn't all that bad. I evidently just chose to make chaos my world view. Secondly, it really wasn't schedule or people demands that caused my sense of chaos, it was my own expectations. Now, if you will, allow me to get philosophical.

The line between desires and expectations is thin. Our personal desires quickly morph into expectations when left unchecked. Desires almost always require and thus hope for the cooperation of events and other people, while expectations demand that same cooperation. But what, if anything does all this prove?

In my camp we call these desires-slash-expectations "idols." Anything that isn't directed to God is therefore an idol. If my idol is "power," I will busy myself trying to avoid failure and humiliation, at the price of always feeling responsible if not angry. If my idol is "comfort," I will endeavor to avoid any/all stresses even if it results in "nothing ventured, nothing gained." If my chosen idol is "control," I will work to mitigate against uncertainty at the price of incessant worry. And if my idol is "affirmation," I will do whatever necessary to up my approval rating and avoid the pain of rejection, ultimately resulting in slavery to the desires and expectations of other people.

So what I saw and experienced as chaos this week was essentially trumped up. I saw things the way I wanted to see them...as threats to my idols; as roadblocks on my way to expectations management.

Even pastors, especially this one needs to remember that idols are made up, though the idolatry is for real. And this is why repentance is a step toward freedom...even in the midst of self-perceived chaos.

The Price of Unity

I went to a gathering of area pastors yesterday. First time for me. Mentally attaching faces to names (and church buildings) was delightful.

I didn't know I was stepping into initiation traditions. There was no overt hazing. I didn't have to stand on a chair and sing my college fight song. But I was assigned duty to bring the devotional next month. It was also mandated that I will be the speaker at the city-wide Thanksgiving's Eve service. It's how they welcome the new guy, I guess.

I was blessed with the humility and heart for the city evidenced by each guy in the room. One guy made the point of saying, "When the Apostle Paul wrote letters to various churches, he wrote to the believers in that city. Those letters made no real mention of individual fellowships, denominational alliances or doctrinal distinctives between readers." This same guy went on to say that if true today, then we...the guys around yesterday's table...would be the elders the Apostle would have held up to particular responsibility as shepherds for our city. This resonated with me.

We had but two action items. We quickly and efficiently planned both next month's gathering, and the Thanksgiving's Eve service. The remaining time was devoted to hearing about and praying for each other; not as rival pastors but as brothers. A wounded but joyful brotherhood. And I was blessed to see how no one was territorial. No one campaigned for pole position. It hit me that a lot of good can come when no one is concerned over who gets the credit.

Truth be told, every church pastor has stories of pastors gatherings in their respective histories and prior cities; some a delight, and others not so much. At worst, pastors gatherings
can resemble a collection of bantam roosters pecking at each other in the barnyard. Or maybe more like a five year high school reunion where some of the alums still maintain a sparkling view of their own prowess and potential.

But at best it's just a group of guys who love Jesus, love their wives and kids, love the city, and even dare to love the other churches in town. Like knowing we're all on the same team. The price of unity.

(Thanks, Pat Costello for the cool photo.)

Thoughts on Walking into a Closed Door

Last night I thought I was helpful. My wife even thanked me for the "wisdom" I had dispensed on her behalf. Then it happened. I proved otherwise.

While grilling salmon outside on the deck I intended to go back inside to fetch something. In doing so I proceeded to walk into the glass slider door that was already closed. (Previously, I thought only dogs did that!) I smooshed my face and crunched my hand. I deposited my beverage all over the slider glass, and myself, nearly smashing my beverage container in the process. Epic fail. At that moment any self-applause I harbored in response to my previously dispensed "wisdom" was eliminated from the clutter in my brain. My wife is gracious. We had a good laugh. At my expense. Well deserved.

On another but related note, religious people are taught to believe that their most recent thought or action determines who they are, the status of their position or status in relation to God. (And if that's true, last night I positioned myself in God's eyes as the village idiot.) It's no wonder other people see religious people as dictated by a long list of "do's" and "don'ts." It's as if the goal of religious affiliation and activity is to become a "good person." Religion, therefore is viewed by our wider culture as being no more than a lifelong quest for "morality." Problem #1 is, one person's morality is someone else's immorality. Problem #2 is, no one is truly moral.

However, religion and the gospel are not the same thing. Religion is mankind's idea, while the gospel is God's. Religion says, "do the right things." The gospel says, "Done!"

How can that be?

My standing as a Christ-follower is not based on how well I adhere to the "do's and don'ts list." Good thing, since I'm just seconds away from my next epic fail. Instead, the gospel tells me that my standing isn't predicated on my behavior, it's based on Jesus' accomplishment. In what Martin Luther called the "Great Exchange" Jesus took my sin to the cross, and in exchange gave me his standing before God. Not based on what I do, but on what Jesus already did. This is undeserved; the very definition of grace.

Freedom for me is found in not having to please God for my worth, standing or future. He's already pleased with me solely because He's pleased with Jesus. I am now free to abandon my own false sense of propriety, my own conjectures of morality, and even my score on the "do's and don'ts list." I'm free to love and serve because I'm freed from having to earn and self-justify. I am freed from hoping other people will see me as wise, and freed to follow after the truly wise One.

Even when I'm attempting to walk through closed doors.

Before I die...

"The report of my death was an exaggeration" said Mark Twain. Same would be true of me, as this is no posthumous announcement. But I did notice something rather interesting in downtown Juneau the other day.


A large, multi-panel chalkboard has been set up, just down the street from the State Capitol Building with the words "Before I Die..." and then spaces for folks to fill in the blanks with their hopes and dreams for their remaining days. Maybe it's just performance art. But it was enough to stop my car, illegally mind you, and give it a look over.

For sure, there was the expected assortment of inane, juvenile statements that included sexual conquest, self-medication, unicorns and leaping tall buildings. We are Alaska, but not immune to dumb thinking. I also read responses that had more to do with general good will, peace between nations and stopping to appreciate the little things in life, albeit with my addendum that nothing in Alaska is little.

With my car continuing in its illegal placement I read the rich variety of responses. And this got me thinking: Before I die, what do I wish for?

The previous evening I attended an organizational meeting for Young Life, and I was blessed with how the people there represented a wide number of local churches. But we were on the same page with the same priority - new gospel life for students in our city. Before I die I would love to see the churches in our city unified in relationship and shared mission. That would be witness on a big scale!

The Tuesday morning before I gathered again with our Porterbrook fellas. (It's like seminary training, but I don't tell them that.) These fellas come from several churches, and are looking to learn in order to lead. Before I die I want to see a cadre of men rise up to humbly and effectively lead in their homes and churches and start up new churches throughout Southeast Alaska.

Deb and I visited a church on Saturday (!) evening. They were as friendly and welcoming as a church could possibly be. Before I die I want to see my own gospel witness and proclamation, and that of Radiant Church Juneau be welcoming, and not condemnatory. 

Before I die I want to insure that my wife knows she couldn't possibly be more adored than she is by her husband. Before I die I want my children to know their father is fully engaged and immensely proud of them. Before I die I want to see Radiant Church Juneau be a radiant expression of the gospel to our city.

No, I didn't add my wishes to the downtown Before I Die board. Instead, I asked God to write them on my own heart. That way, I'll be less tempted to settle for lesser wishes.

Love the City

Summer ended. In one day. Thursday, August 15 the sun was replaced with dark rain clouds, the temperatures plummeted, spawning salmon began filling our streams and our version of "fall" was initiated. The first half of summer revolved around our own travel adventures. The second half of summer (now fall) has been consumed with hospitality and tour guiding.

We've enjoyed visits from family and friends, most of whom have been in Juneau for only hours at a time while in port with their cruise ships. Sometimes we've had eight hours, other times maybe ten hours to show our city off to our visitors. Kind of like speed-dating.

In just the past two days alone we have included the glacier and bear sightings, Nugget Falls, the Tram and its views, shopping downtown, the Valley, our living room, the Hangar, the Island Pub, St. Therese, Eagle Beach, UAS, TMHS and lots of potential Christmas card photos taken. It's been a whirlwind. It's been fun.

Our visitors have each asked, "Why Juneau?" After an hour or two they answer their own question, and find themselves loving our city as we love our city. Juneau is not hard to love. Rain clouds or not.

It's been said, people in Juneau either love it here...or they're planning to move away. There is no in between. We love it here. We love talking about our city. Loving our city is vital.

A church cannot really be the Church if that church does not love their city, and the people in their city. A church can only really be the Church when it is willing, even joyful to engage the culture. Too many churches in too many places have settled for church as safe zone, as separation, as protection and isolation from the culture. But that's not what the Church was called to be and do.

Without gospel compromise Radiant Church lives in light of the mandate to be enthusiastic and engaged with our city. We are "Radiant Church Juneau," and the "Juneau" part is important. We are called to love this city, our city in tangible and intangible ways, in gospel ways, and this forces involvement as well as placement.

Functioning as host and self-proclaimed tour guide reminds me that I love my city, that I need to love my city. Our city, and every city needs gospel-centered people who will love their cities; enough to talk about their city, and to their city.

Seasonal Order

Like everyone else in Alaska we have enjoyed the "all-time greatest summer ever." Deb and I have now been here in Juneau for two summer seasons; the first one didn't happen; this one has been glorious. Fact remains, we still don't know what a "normal" summer is up here. (Sadly, a long-timer recently told me that last year's summer is more the norm.)

In the course of enjoying summer I've leaned to hold things (like plans, expectations, hopes and dreams) with loose fingers. Few church-planters view summer as high momentum time. We are no exception.

In the summer months church "growth" can seem to move at glacier pace. (My analogy breaks down if one considers a retreating glacier. I didn't mean that kind of glacier. That would be bad.)

However, and often in spite of my efforts, Jesus continues to build His church. He did promise He would do just that. We have seen our initial gospel community grow in family roles, skills and graces. We are becoming increasingly intimate, honest and transparent. We are learning how to serve each other in tangible and intangible ways. (Note: I am now quite versed in airport deliveries and pick ups.)

We have been blessed with many more relationships in the city, and opportunities to volunteer and serve
continue to multiply. We are collectively excited over the prospect of new gospel communities forming on the UAS campus, and another downtown. Deb and I are amassing a long list of people we look forward to having in our home. And Deb's school year at UAS and mine at TMHS are now upon us. So is the rain!

Fall came. Today. With the rain. Unlike the dark clouds and gray skies (and the new requirement to wear shoes and socks) Radiant Church Juneau enters a season of growth. We look forward to growing together in community, as family. We look forward to growing as a gospel influence and manifestation in our city and region.

Kind of like spring. Which also didn't happen last year, or the year before. (Again, my analogy breaks down.)

Gettin' Out

It's been more than a calendar year since we "got out" (Alaskan for getting out of Alaska.) It's true we got out last summer, for our children's weddings, which were totally fun, but not necessarily vacation in a vacation sort of way. Last year we stayed close to home and enjoyed Alaska's version of summer weather. An oxymoron. We had no summer in 2012.

But this year we did get out, and embarked on our big trip of the year. We first went to Newport Beach, CA for two conferences held back to back at the same hotel, involving a lot of the same people. We enjoyed summer weather, reconnected with old friends, learned a lot, stayed up late, and Deb enjoyed some good old fashioned Southern California mall shopping. I watched my wife decompress before my eyes. And we got to see a full-on Bollywood wedding at the hotel. (It's just what you think it is, by the way.) Oh, and I got food poisoning, but that doesn't bear comment (even though I just commented.)

After five days we left the "OC" for Reno, NV (by way of Phoenix, which last I checked is not on the way) to connect with our daughter and son-in-law in Lake Tahoe. We had not seen them in six months. Reno was burning up, but Tahoe was perfect as Tahoe most always is. We went to the beaches, learned about boat motors (where oil and water still do not mix), did a little stand up paddle boarding, ate like kings and queens, played surrogate parents to one rambunctious retriever puppy and thoroughly enjoyed our children's company. I was blessed to share a deep, gospel-centered conversation with a friend of thirty years. Our time there was glorious.

Four days later we made our way to Bellingham (by way of Seattle, which is on the way) and subsequently to Lynden where we moved in with our son and daughter-in-law and their two young men in training. I hadn't seen them since their wedding day almost a year ago. Together we enjoyed lazy evenings in the backyard, played a little badminton and went out to dinner where we were blessed with a quick drop-in visit from a dear friend representing her dear family. Our time with those Rydman's was equally glorious.

We were and are reminded that Alaska is a long way from our children. Fact is, Alaska is a long way from just about everything. Even as empty-nesters now somewhat experienced, we are increasingly aware of the realities of distance parenting. I still write letters to both young couples each Monday; we still talk on the phone with the daughter (frequently) and the son (less so) and make due with what it is. We are so proud of our children, all four of them now. We live a long way away. We're even separated by a foreign country.

But our children are called, respectively to be where they are, and we are called to be where we are. Sometimes we just wish we were all called to the same place.

They would like Alaska.

In the Eye of a Tornado, or was it a Hurricane?

I've never been in a tornado. Being a lifelong resident of the West Coast I've seen some weather, even Alaska's bipolar variety, but I've never even seen a twister. I was in Indianapolis once, and when the siren sounded I had to ask what that alarm was all about. I have friends whose lives have been affected by tornados, and others who are now quite experienced giving aid to tornado victims, but I've never experienced either.

Back when I was a kid in church I remember hearing a visiting missionary telling us what it was like to endure a tornado. Maybe it was a hurricane. I don't remember the details, but I do remember this one bit; there was a strange calm in the "middle" or the "eye" of the storm. Somehow, at halftime there was a brief respite, a momentary calm before the second round of lashings commenced. Now that I think about it, it probably was a hurricane.

Perhaps, if my metaphor has any merit, I am in one of those calm halftimes. The school year ended, so did my substitute teaching assignments. I have more discretionary time on my hands. Deb will soon go "off contract" for a month, and in the meantime with no students on campus her work world has regained some civility. We are again enjoying regular "Sabbath rest," irrespective of the day of the week. The frequency of our evening walks in the marina has increased.

But around us swirls the tornado (or hurricane.) Friends in vocational ministry are exhausted by people issues in their churches; here in Juneau we are seeing many of our friends enter a season of transition. (It's been said people here either love Juneau, or are planning to leave.) Several churches in our own city are in leadership transitions, or even denominational transitions; even our own initial gospel community is preparing to see some of our own depart for worlds south of here.

Yet in this I am enjoying a season of calm. My times in God's Word have been sweet and profound. The glorious recent weather has forced me outdoors to improve my cardio health. I have enjoyed deep time with old and new friends. My soul is at rest (Jeremiah 6:16.) It feels like I am being re-filled, topped off, knowing the days of giving if not draining are not far off.

Storms will come back to Southeast Alaska. They always do. Starting and leading a church comes with seasonal storms. It's how it goes. How blessed I am to be given calm between storms.

Servanthood and Public Education

This is finals week, the final week of the public school year. The kids and their instructors are well aware of the days, hours and perhaps minutes remaining. Risking the wrath of the District Superintendent, staff members are at their assigned posts. I am a substitute teacher, and my services are no longer needed. I've been rendered surplus to requirements.

It's been a fun year. I've enjoyed the role...and the freedom to say "no" from time to time. I had no idea I would be kept as busy as I've been. It helped over the course of the year to limit my availability to only one school. I got to know kids and staff by name, and they me. I learned to encourage (okay, bribe) better behavior on Fridays through the ingenious (in my estimation) addition of Jolly Ranchers. I know which kids require a fist-bump when passing in the hallways. I enjoyed being the self-appointed front door greeter to sleepy-faced students trudging to their lockers and on to their first class each morning.

Never having been a substitute teacher before this year, I learned or confirmed some things about myself. I'm a decent communicator. I am funny (at least I think I am.) I am flexible and roll somewhat well with the punches. I am better than good at making up answers to questions, especially when I may not even understand the question. I learned that students and adults both respond positively to a smile and some encouragement.

And I learned to use the word "serve" in complete sentences. "How can I serve you?" became a frequent element in my responses. Admittedly this freaked some people out, knowing the words (and concepts) of "servant" and "service" are not necessarily indigenous to, let alone valued by our culture. But I had selfish motivations for using these words in sentences. I did it for me.

I am not by nature a willing servant. Mine has been a life-long and still ongoing training in this endeavor. I am, by nature self-serving, self-indulgent and self-absorbed. But by using the word "serve" in a sentence it then requires me to do the verb and be the noun forms of the word, taking my own felt needs and selfish motivations out of the equation. And this is all necessary to the development of my gospel identity.

So somehow, and by God's grace TMHS has been my classroom. I've been instructed in the practicum of servanthood. I am grateful. I am looking forward to the next school year. In the meantime I'm really looking forward to summer break.

Church Planting in the Fog

There are those times when it seems life is being lived in a fog bank; stretches of time when duties are performed and obligations met, but with no real sense of the big picture.

Our past two weeks have felt fog bound. (Our bipolar SE Alaska weather only serves as a constant metaphor.) We've been busy. Perhaps too busy. Emotionally we've hit some exhilarating highs, but these felt sandwiched with soul-flattening lows. Sabbath rest has been hard to come by.

We went zip-lining 120 feet in the trees over an old gold mine a week ago. It was a rush, and a good break away from life at the usual altitude. We also endured the heartbreak of putting down our old but beloved family dog. In the days following we missed her, and even the inconveniences of dog ownership. (Dog owners get this. Non dog-owners don't.) With children grown and gone, Deb is feeling the loss of someone to nurture. (Not that I've gone anywhere, mind you.)

I've been subbing a lot; more than I expected and sometimes more than I wanted. But in the midst of the fog God has graced me with conversations shared with students and staff I never could have initiated on my own. I also worked as a timer for a regional championship track meet this past weekend. Bright sun on Friday. Driving rain on Saturday. It was good to serve, and I came home tired. I also had my first go at being a volunteer at the Visitor's Center Kiosk down by the cruise ship terminal on Wednesday. Talked with a good number of Australians. They're always fun. They called me "mate."

Admittedly though, I cannot say I've made a lot of "progress" in working "on" Radiant Church Juneau during this stretch. I didn't allow myself time, and had little to show. But in the midst of the fog I was given a gift. I was given a re-realization of what my calling is, and is not.

As church-planters, as Jesus-followers we are not called to make churches. I may be a church-planter, but I do not build the church. That role and responsibility is reserved for Jesus alone. What we are called to do is make disciples. Being and making disciples is what Jesus called His Church to be and do (Matthew 28:19).

With this as a new evaluative criterion I reviewed the past two weeks again. God is making disciples. He's making a disciple out of me. He's even gracing me with conversations and events and experiences where I can be a disciple-maker. Even in the fog.

Upon further review, it's been a good two weeks.

Relocation

Moving makes me weird. For the third time in 14 months we again picked up our stuff and relocated to a condo 7.5 miles west of our previous abode. We like it.

Deb reminded me that over a year ago I had said I would someday like for us to live near the University, and have a waterfront view. (In my own mind I also admitted this to be a pipe dream.) But in God's grace (and the generosity of dear friends) He has given us just that. We're within walking distance of the University. We have a picturesque view of the marina. We watch sea lions eating, and eagles fighting over whatever the sea lions leave behind. We really like it.

But I've also been observing myself during these transition seasons. How is it I can be myopic, bi-polar and ADHD all at the same time? For two weeks all I thought about was moving. When something dumb happened...like the TV audio not working, I was ready to commit an emotional crime. Whenever I started a singular moving-related project I also started four others. I have really confused myself about myself in recent days.

And it wasn't like we were moving between states. We didn't change time zones, zip codes or even our mailing address. It was just a cross-town move. No big deal, right?

I realized, sadly again that I am an idolator. As I get older I crave comfort, and control over my circumstances, and power over my surroundings, even the self-affirmation that I got things done. Yet (in reading Stephen's sermon in Acts 7) I was reminded that God moves people. Abraham got relocated. So did Moses. The apostles moved out and on. Churches get planted because someone is willing to move. And relocation seems to throw a temporary brick at the idols of comfort, control, power and even affirmation.

Moving is like preparing to live. Living is living. It may be I am not too effective at doing both at the same time. I'm just glad Jesus doesn't move even when I'm busy moving.

Nomadic Life

In the nearly 32 years of married life my bride and I have lived in six different cities, four states and five area codes, including thirteen different domiciles. We know we're not necessarily unique in this, for it seems to be the way of the modern wanderer. In the past year we've become accustomed again to the nomadic life.

And today it begins; we're relocating again. Same town, same area code, same zip code, just six or seven miles west (but feels north.) Today begins a two-week relocation process. Today I begin the unenviable task of packing up books (far fewer than I've maintained in years past) and my CD collection (entirely too many still.) Our home will slowly cease to be a home, and will instead take on the look of a staging area. It's what nomads do.

Our dear friends Joe and Karen are relocating, leaving the beauty and wonder of Southeast Alaska for the wonder and beauty of South Florida. Their move requires a great deal more than does our own. We don't want to see them go, and they're not sure they want to either. But God is sovereign, even over what awaits our friends in their new life on the other side of the continent. Some church does not yet know just how blessed they will be to have these two join them in life and on mission.

God's sovereignty prevails, often in unexpected ways. Joe and Karen approached us about living in their place. They made us an offer we couldn't refuse. Our prayer for a bigger living room (present church gathering place) has been answered. Their condo is within walking distance of Deb's job at UAS, and within biking distance of just about anywhere I need to go on the west (north) end. In a strange sort of irony we are losing our dear friends, and gaining their place. We are exchanging mountain vistas for a marine panorama. The reality of having a washer and dryer in the unit will seem to us a luxury.

So I'm checking out from high school sub duty for some days, packing things up and preparing to relocate. Compared to some other moves we've made this will be cake. But it has to start, it has to gain some inertia and momentum, and today's that day.

Nomads are only nomads, and sojourners are only sojourners when they get their nomadic sojourning in motion.

First Time for Everything

Radiant Church Juneau celebrated her first Easter Service this past weekend. In some ways it was not unlike Easter weekends in years past.

I got up out of bed on Sunday at 5am to be out the door by 6am. I bet every pastor I know did the same thing. (Easter is hardly a day of rest for church leaders; a good day for sure, but not necessarily restful.) I also had my sermon ready, and was devoted to prayer through the previous week (again, not unique to me.)

But there were also departures from previous years. I was out of bed and out the door early to secure a covered picnic site at Auke Recreation. I jumped right in behind a church finishing up their sunrise service, and inherited their remaining firewood. Knowing our own event didn't start until 2pm, I ended up having my own extended sunrise service. As it was, God decided to decorate His day in spectacular fashion. We live in a rain forest, and rain was predicted, but the day was glorious. I watched little Pacific porpoises feeding near the shoreline at low tide. I had conversations with several kids I know from the high school as they passed by on beach walks with their families. I tended the fire. I thought about the resurrection, and thanked God for that event and my resultant justification in His eyes.

Our folks showed up at 2:00 or before. Everyone brought food, a bounty I don't think I've ever seen for an Easter feast. Our Radiant Church people showed up to serve the others, and the others came to think about something other than State politics.

We had several from-out-of-town legislators and their staff people join us. We're learning how to serve them, how to be their church family when they are away from their own church families. We are learning how important it is to protect them, to resist the temptation to drop their names or tag them in Facebook photos. They're all regular people. They just have a lot on their minds. We're learning to love them, include them, and invite Jesus into every conversation.

Together we feasted, we sang all of those triumphant Easter anthems (we could remember) and I preached. And we had a great time. It felt like an extended family gathering. I cannot remember an Easter Sunday I have ever enjoyed more than this.

It was our church's first Easter as a church. Someday we will fondly look back at how relaxed, how organic and unstructured it was. And we did take photos...which we'll archive for ourselves to protect the elected.

Confidence

In the past weeks it's been my privilege to preach and teach, and I've been grateful for every opportunity. But in retrospect I also see where I've failed to communicate some vital truths.

Two weeks ago in our own living room I taught from Acts 5:12-16. I thought I had adequately handled the text, but something went missing. I had not taught gospel. I had not focused our community gathering on how Jesus is the hero and the solution. I think I ended up confusing everyone. Someone had to ask me, "What was your main point?" Humbling.

Last week I preached at Radiant Church in Fairbanks. My five-page sermon ended up being a four-page sermon. I completely bypassed an entire page. No harm done. Maybe. (They're a grace-filled, forgiving lot, they are.)

Last night, with our gospel community gathered once again and soup consumed I led us through the remainder of Acts 5, the "Apostles Arrested and Freed" my Bible's text heading says. We talked about the confidence these apostles had, even on the heels of being imprisoned and whipped. They left the city council meeting "rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the Name."

These guys were so confident in Jesus, the hero and solution that they could be joyful in spite of their circumstances. They knew who God is and what He's done informed who they were and how they were to live. Confident in their identity. The story is inspiring, for sure. But I dropped the proverbial ball.

Confidence in the promises of Jesus comes from the resurrection, the historical Easter event we celebrate each spring. If God can raise a man from the dead, to never die again, He can and will certainly do the same for us. Confidence in the presence and power of the Holy Spirit is "God with us," and serves as a "down payment" on the fact that God's full gospel promises can be trusted, as good as already done.

But that same confidence is given for a purpose. More than just to make us feel secure, even joyful, we are given gospel confidence for mission. If anyone on the planet can be confident it should be the Jesus-followers. And this confidence should then translate us into our living as gospel evidence, united in community, and as heralds of the God Who reached down to us when we were unable and refused to reach up to Him.

Those apostle guys were confident because they were eye-witnesses to a risen Lord. And while I can put no confidence in myself (scroll back up, for just a few examples) I can and have full confidence in the God who has freed me to talk it up and live it out, bearing witness to what He's done and will do.

Fairbanks

We tried to get there on Friday. Snow and fog prevented planes from landing in Juneau, hence we stayed landed in Juneau. On Saturday we tried again to make our way to Fairbanks, successfully this time.

We were greeted by dear friends who exude warm hearts and an open home. We feasted on moose burgers, were introduced to the family's hedge hog, and talked late into the night, while keeping one eye toward the living room window, hopeful of a moose sighting. (Didn't happen. Next time maybe.)

Late in the evening some of us jumped into a warm car and made our way to a frozen field somewhere north of Fairbanks, past the pipeline, past the brewery and witnessed an incredible show. The Northern Lights were out in a big way, and we stood with our necks craned as we looked overhead. To see the Aurora Borealis had been a life-long dream for my bride, and I think I was happier for her than even for myself to finally see the heavens dance near the top of the world. I was almost teary eyed listening to her delight; the fact that I was severely under-dressed for the occasion (and the -1 temp) did little to distract me.

Sunday morning greeted us with spectacular blue skies. But admittedly the few hours of sleep also greeted me with a foggy head. It was my privilege to preach to Radiant Church, and though I was not blessed with mental clarity we were absolutely blessed by our Radiant friends. What a humble joy it is for us to be aligned with that church. More than simple association it feels like family. They have modeled the gospel to us by adopting us into their family. We came to be a blessing, and walked out the ones blessed. Funny how that happens. And we saw dog sledding races on our way home. How crazy is that ?!

With a couple of hours to spare before our departure we decided to go to the World Ice Sculpture park. It was incredible. One one hand it seems these artists have too much free time (and extra ice available), while on the other hand the art was spell-binding. But I will admit, the cold distracted me more than it had the night previous. There are times I am reminded I'm still adapting to Alaska.

Deb and I flew out late afternoon, and arrived safely home with our luggage and a large box filled with moose and caribou meat products. Our freezer is full. Our hearts are full. It was a 39-hour whirlwind of a weekend, and our hearts are full.

We love Fairbanks because we love the people in Fairbanks. And our Lord again expressed His love for us, this time through those same people.

Things You Learn

Alaska has been our home now for a year and 42 days. In some ways we feel entrenched and comfortable here; in other ways Alaska remains an unsolvable mystery.

We've learned some things in our 408 days as Alaska residents. (And by the way, one is not a resident until one has been a resident for a calendar year. We now qualify.) We've learned that Alaska is not entirely unlike other places we've lived, but Alaska is also its own thing; strangely unique.

We've learned that almost all conversations begin with the weather. "How are you doing?" is usually answered with a weather critique. We've also learned through personal experience that summer weather is not a foregone conclusion. Juneau by some accounts is the "cloudiest city in America." I looked this up, on the internet, where everything is true, and we seem to maintain our position in the top 5 irrespective of who's keeping score. Juneau can be counted on for 280 cloudy days per year. That's 76%.

I realized recently I have not washed my car in a year. I also realize, what's the point?

Some online retailers think Alaska and Afghanistan are the same place. They refuse to ship to either. Overnight delivery does not happen. "Over week delivery" maybe. Sometimes. Not that often. "Rush Delivery" is relative, if not an oxymoron.

Here in Alaska we may have cell phone coverage, 4G even. That is, until we take a step in any direction. Dropped calls are a way of life. No one is offended.

Pea gravel is the road traction product of choice. We live with pea gravel - wedged in the souls of our shoes, in our cars, our homes and in our bedrooms. Everyone's car windshields have cracks. It's like one of the Biblical plagues. On a related note, it is considered especially bad form to leave your shoes on when entering someone else's home.

Whatever I choose to wear each day is wrong. (See paragraph 2.)

We learned that 98% of our food comes from outside Alaska. We hope they don't mean Afghanistan.

Right now, this week at least, Juneau is gaining 5 minutes and some seconds of sunlight per day. However, surrounded by mountains as we are, I'm not too sure of this stat. On June 21 we will hit our zenith of 18 hours and 18 minutes of sunlight. Compare this with December 21 when we will have only 6 hours and 21 minutes of sunlight. But it will be cloudy, so how can anyone tell? I hope those 21 minutes mean something.

Now we adjust to the time change. (Alaska used to have four different time zones back in the day. I bet that wasn't complicated.) And we look forward to spring. Maybe the awakening bears will want to help me wash my car.

Volunteerism

The weather is changing. We think. For the better. Our last few days have featured cold morning temps, clear skies and spectacular views of snow-covered mountains in all directions. It is not hard to like Juneau, whatever the weather...though some weather options are preferable to others.

The morning temps and clear skies and spectacular views of snow-covered mountains in all directions (see above) also caused me to acknowledge the approaching closing of this school year. My substitute teacher skills will not be required over the summer months. I'm fine with that.

But the question hit me, "What to do with the time?"

I have a church to gather. This is my motivation to get out of bed each morning. There is plenty to do and lots of people to meet. And I am encouraged in the growth taking place in our midst. Truth be told, I myself am growing through this journey and process.

But I will have other hours to devote myself to meaningful pursuits, apart from church stuff, but connected all the same this summer.

Deb came home from UAS (the University of Alaska Southeast, where she is gainfully employed), with an idea - that we give some volunteer hours serving the Juneau Convention & Visitors Bureau. These seasonal volunteers greet visitors (arriving to the airport, ferry terminal or on the many cruise ships) and dispense information related to the many (and I mean many) tourist activities (meaning ways to spend money) available in our fair city. I applied online, and was accepted. With some training and some "familiarization tours" (doing  the fun stuff for free) I should be good to go. And as it is, it appears I meet the requirements:

1. Friendly, outgoing personality - ENTJ on the Myers -Briggs (unintentionally causing fear in all introverts.) Check!
2. Must be 18 years or older - Check! Decades beyond Check!
3. Ability to communicate comfortably and articulately - I assume in English. Check!
4. Ability to work well with a team or individually - I assume that means with Deb. Check!
5. Reliable - Check! (Where's the Boy Scout motto when I need it?)
6. Punctual - I don't sleep through the night anymore anyway, so Check!
7. Enthusiastic - for this city? Who wouldn't be? Check!

This will be fun! And it will be entertaining to greet people wearing their University of Wherever in the Midwest sweatshirts while sporting fishing hats from Ketchikan and bags from the T Shirt Factory as they ask where they can see bears.

I'll just send them over to my neighborhood. For free.

Radiant

Deb and I relocated to Juneau, Alaska just over a year ago. Juneau has become home...and a vacation cruise destination for several of our continental friends. There are days when it all still seems so new, and other days when it feels like it's always been. We love being here.

I came to "plant" (start) a new church in Juneau. We have a small but growing band of people who now identify with us as a community on mission. One obstacle, I've been planting the Church with No Name. For what ever the reason (see below) I've wanted to be slow, cautious, thoughtful and prayerful about what to call this new thing. But a year is a bit of a while to go without a name, without an identity.

I have history with naming churches. I did so in 2005. What I really did was give a church a name that was difficult to pronounce, challenging to explain, and made us sound like a Latino fellowship. (Problem was, I only speak Taco Bell Spanish.) Admittedly I regretted our (my) name for this church within the first year. To their credit, and after Deb and I left town they changed the church's name. For the better, I might add. All this to say, I don't necessarily have the highest confidence in my ability to name a church. Naming our own children had the safeguard of being a group decision.

Planting a church is challenging enough. It has been statistically quoted that 80% of church plants fail within the first year; and 80% of those remaining fail within the second year. Not high odds. To attempt to plant a church isolated from relational connections and accountability and outside wisdom is playing recklessly with those already high odds. I came to realize we needed to be connected, associated with someone or something more established, but someone or something that loves and is invested in gospel mission to Alaska and the circumpolar north.

As Jesus-followers we revel in the knowledge we have been graciously adopted as children of the King. And now we've been adopted by another church. Radiant Church in Fairbanks is a church of gospel communities on intentional mission. In many ways they are what we want to be when we grow up. We want to share in their collective identity. Radiant is freely offering their resources, their intellectual capital, their friendship, their sacrifice and their hearts to us. We are not Radiant Church's first church plant, but we are Radiant Church's first church plant to take their name.

We now have an identity here in Juneau and Southeast Alaska. We are Radiant Church Juneau. And like Psalm 34:5 says, Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed. 

We are Radiant. With no Spanish language skills required.

Homegoing

Our neighbor, Gary died on Saturday. He had been bravely fighting cancer. Gary had served in Vietnam where he was exposed to Agent Orange.

Gary and his wife had been waiting, a long time waiting for confirmation that Gary would be eligible for V.A. benefits related to Agent Orange exposure. Gary had been concerned that he might die before this confirmation, concerned for his beloved wife's future without him.

Deb and I were called very early Saturday morning. Gary had endured a bad night. His lungs were filling with fluid, and he was struggling for each breath. It was my privilege to read Psalms to him, to pray for him, and to express the assurance of hope we have in Jesus to Gary's wife and sisters.

At 1:15 on Saturday afternoon Gary's wife received the phone call she had been waiting and hoping for. A number of people including one of Alaska's U.S. Senators had taken Gary's case on as a priority. As a result the V.A. had granted Gary the news he wanted to hear. And Gary took his last breath at 1:30.

Deb and I were called back and arrived at 1:35. Gary was gone, though his shell of a body remained. He was no longer in pain, no longer suffering, no longer worried for his wife.

It was my privilege to be present when Gary made a profession of faith in Jesus about a month ago. Gary had asked me over that day because he was concerned he had not done enough to get to heaven. I told him he was right. He hadn't done enough; nor had I; nor had anyone else. But it was my joy that day to explain to Gary that it wasn't and isn't ever about what we do, but about what Jesus has already done. Gary believed, and said so. And Gary is now home with the One who loved and loves him enough to have done through Jesus what Gary himself could not do. Enough to be enough.

God expressed His grace to Gary by releasing him from his suffering and calling him home, to really live. God expressed His grace to Gary's family by giving the encouragement of V.A. benefits; more importantly the profession of Gary's faith. And God expressed His grace to me by letting me be present, to celebrate Gary's homegoing.

Failure to Represent

I recently had an eight-day gig subbing in a high school biology class. I've had these classes and these students before. I know them and they know me, only to the extent a substitute teacher can know and be known. I've learned that being quick with a quip (and bribing them with Jolly Ranchers on Fridays) helps to get these kids on my wavelength. These kids seem to like anyone who likes them.

The biology teacher was called away to attend to family matters out of state. She had other things on her mind during her departure and absence. While normally very organized and a thoughtful planner, she did not leave behind teaching notes or a curriculum plan this time around. I was forced to fake it.

Trying to be resourceful I made contact with other science teachers in the school building. I also reached out (i.e. begged for help) to a biology-teaching friend in the Seattle area. I received help, resources and some empathy. I was able to advance the students through their textbook chapters. I helped them conduct two hands-on labs. I did assign homework due dates, but did not burden them with exams. I even had some school administrators ask if they should remove the word "substitute" from my ID badge, though I'm not sure how that would have helped. A coffee cup and an assigned parking space would be nice.

But over the course of those eight days I experienced a downturn. I found myself wearing my self-pity like a blanket. I was resentful over not having enough time to work on "my" church plant, though admittedly this was all of my own doing. I was resentful my assignment required so much prep time. I was resentful over not having enough time to eat lunch.

And I blew it. I revealed my self-pity to too many people; and revealing this to even one person was one person too many. Instead of representing my King with optimism, flexibility, patience and the altruism only a child of the King can display, I instead displayed a primary concern for self, like any idol-worshipper who sees himself as the center of his own universe.

I failed to represent. And I came to realize this when staff people started asking me if "I was okay." And I was humbled. And I repented to my King. And I was reminded again that being a pastor (okay, being a Christ-follower) requires a commitment to grace even when not on the pastoral clock. And I learned again - I need the gospel preached to my own heart - every day.

(thanks, Pat Costello for the cool photo)

Snow Machine

I often portray our Alaskan life as idyllic. It really is. We love it here. But life happens here too. People, even Alaskans are people. Once in a while we're reminded of just this reality.

Two nights ago we were awakened at 3:30am to the not-so-idyllic sounds of a snow machine (not a "snow mobile," you southerners) being started up (after many failed and futile attempts.) This lasted for 20 minutes or so. We were not amused. I was tempted to go downstairs and outside to "address" my lack of amusement with said perpetrator. I did not have a speech polished, but my internal threat vocabulary was dominated with the words "disembowel" and "fillet."

The following morning I saw the fellas outside attempting to free the evil snow machine from a nearby ditch. I went outside (mind, with no weapons on my person) to make inquiry. I asked the young perpetrator what had happened. He told me he did not remember. The other guys offered me no eye contact. So I adapted my method to offering statements to which my young perp could respond. I wanted to aid his memory.

He got drunk (nightly event, so not difficult to ascertain.) He had a fight with his girlfriend (again, not difficult to ascertain.) His anger resulted in his misguided idea that firing up the snow machine at 3:30am and going for a death ride was his best option. This then resulted in his promptly depositing said snow machine in a nearby ditch (another advertisement for "Don't drink and drive.")

I suggested he had perhaps not considered the impact his choices and actions had on the entire neighborhood. I suggested that being drunk, dumb and narcissistic was/is not necessarily a strong life's plan. I explained how a man is different from a boy old enough to shave. And I encouraged him to do a "manly" thing; go to each of our neighbors and apologize. Because real men accept responsibility and own up to their less than savory actions.

But in this exchange something happened in me. My anger and desire to wreck emotional damage was replaced with compassion; God-inspired compassion. I began to see this kid, this boy as lost. A lost lamb.
And in this I recognized yet another event God is using to reform my heart. My heart needs continual reformation. And maybe my desire to be priest and pastor on our street will require my being a father figure to some.

Later in the day I saw my young neighbor begrudgingly making his way to a couple of front doors. He has not yet made his way to all of our neighbors (I told him I would be following up) but he was making the attempt.

No one got filleted or disemboweled. Deb and I enjoyed our gospel community gathering last night, and then slept well. And I'm not quite so motivated to be the neighborhood strong arm.

Roller Coaster

Life is more than simple sustained breathing. Life is people, events and circumstances that change constantly, even for those who doggedly avoid change. Some may say "successful living" is the art and science of being consistent in the face of inconsistencies, and certain in the midst of uncertainties. I would say that consistency and certainty are dependent upon what (Who) that consistency and certainty is founded.

The life of this church-planter, or any church-planter for that matter is one of changes, some expected, some not. For anyone in this profession, or anyone related to someone in this profession, life can feel like a roller coaster. More likely it is living as a kite in God's hurricane. Just in the past month I have experienced both the incredible highs and gut-wrenching lows that are part and parcel to starting a church; all of it good, some of it challenging. Blessed my God loves me enough to continue reforming my heart.

My wife caught a cold. She gave it to me. My health caused me to regretfully cancel a couple of Sunday night gospel community gatherings and lose some "momentum." We both recovered. Then I caught the same (or a different) cold, and gave it to Deb. The gift that keeps on giving this has become. Blessed, I guess.

We've learned recently some people we thought (okay, hoped) would be a part of our initial core community will not be. We also learned recently our dear friends who have walked with us in these initial church-planting days will be regrettably relocating out of town. To borrow a British term, I was and am "gutted," but riding on the roller coaster requires staying in one's seat, and rolling with the punches. Blessed to know Who keeps me upright in the seat.

And...there are high's too. We just enjoyed a long weekend with our daughter and son-in-law. We crammed as much fun as possible into four days together. We love them and loved our time with them. For us it was the first time guests have come to Juneau to see us, not simply passing through on a cruise ship port of call. Deb and I got to be parents in person. Juneau showed herself well. So blessed we are!

I've been surprised (if not astounded) by interest expressed by two different fellas in what we're doing here in Juneau. Both overtures came to me from out of the blue...or directly from the hand and heart of God. And our Tuesday morning "Man School" continues on with guys who continue to be interested and faithful.

This very morning the prayer gathering at the Capitol Building didn't happen. It was rescheduled, to yesterday, and I was out of the loop. Instead, God had me make acquaintance with two nice ladies (who were also out of the loop.) We shared our hearts for Jesus and for Alaska. We stood and prayed in the Capitol lobby. I left encouraged. And unexpectedly blessed.

All of it, highs and lows, are good things; blessings. Blessed to be on the roller coaster. Blessed to know and trust Who keeps me in the seat on the roller coaster, especially when I cannot see the highs and lows yet around the next church-planting corner.

Looking Forward through the Rear View Mirror

Admittedly I've used this same title for first-of-the-year sermons in years past. In doing so it has been my intention to acknowledge my own past faith failures and God's past faithfulness to form and inform a prognosis for the next new year.

For me, there remain two yearly start-up times. September (the school calendar) seems to hit me as the time to pick up the pace and hit everything hard. In my case, September is the "don't think; just do" season. January, on the other hand comes with the kind of quiet reflection that mid-winter seems to bring many of us. Somehow, it's like looking forward through the rear view mirror. Faith borne from gratitude.

Without question, 2012 was a year of transition and high adventure for our family, perhaps unlike anything we have experienced to date. We witnessed the weddings of both our son and daughter. Never would we have anticipated our children's nuptials taking place within the same year, let alone within a calendar month. Admittedly, witnessing a son or daughter, (in our case son and daughter) being wed was for me akin to an out of body experience, like "is this really happening?" I was reminded this past year just how fast time flies. And all of the rumors of weddings being expensive are true.

Our two family weddings allowed us to reconnect with long-time friends and family (also long-time I suppose) in two states. I was reminded again of the ties that bind.

This past year Deb and I also left what we'd known as familiar for the unfamiliar. We relocated from Everett WA to Juneau AK, without jobs, without guarantees, and without universal approval. After 19 years in the same Puget Sound locale we left and went because we both felt we were "supposed to" leave and go. How gracious has our God been to allow us never to waver in our sense of calling or in our joy of calling this new place home.

It would be easy to say we "accomplished" some things; but the truth is, everything gained has been graciously given to us. Housing, and growing friendships in our own neighborhood;  a perfect job for Deb at the University; a new gig to fill my daytime hours subbing in the school district; an ever-widening circle of relationships; the beginnings of a core (perhaps several cores) of people who want to learn what it is to be a gospel-motivated community on mission together; and churches and individuals who believe in what we're doing enough to support and encourage our church-planting work here.

And this doesn't even speak to how we get to live in what is regarded as one of the most beautiful places on earth. (1.2 million annual cruise ship passengers can't be wrong!)

Eleven months in, Juneau is home. Juneau is mission field. We have been humbled by and astounded over God's faithful provision, which includes vision. How could we step into this fresh new year without commensurate humility and astonishment?

(And thanks, Joel Abbott for the photo!)