Christmas Shopping Ends Here.

OK, let’s just stick a fork in the Christmas shopping and call it done. You know you have 43 people left to shop for and not a clue what to buy.  I am going to do you a huge favor and tell you….get them a Zoe Foundation Calendar!

These remarkable calenders feature photos of IHOP families and their adopted children from all over the world.    Twelve whole months of adopted cuteness.

Get one here!

Because of a generous person who took this project on, one hundred percent of the purchase price – not the profit margin but the PURCHASE price - goes to The Zoe Foundation!

People Are Not Like Pandora

I’ve found a sweet spot this morning.  For those who must know, it’s a second hand wicker chair in a dark bedroom, a small space heater humming to my right, my dear wife sleeping on the bed to my left, and an eight year old boy crashed on a love seat positioned across a coffee table from where I am.  He’s got a gnarly cough so we wanted him near us over the night time hours.

I’m listening to a Pandora station of worship music dialed to perfection with relentless pushing of the ‘Like it/Don’t like it’ buttons.  It’s been a while since it’s played anything I didn’t like….and if it does, I am comforted with the fact that I can vanquish it with the press of a button.

I’m reading Romans and finding my heart remarkably tender towards the Lord. A nearly palpable presence of the Holy Spirit rests in the room.   I find my spirit responding to His.   Here in the dark, He is near.  Can it get any better?    Of course not, but it’s about to get worse.

• In a few minutes, The Compound will explode with the fury of all my children, which is a real life daily drama, and, as I understand it, a television show too.  Right now, some who are awake and should not be, and others who are asleep and should be awake.  Neither group will be happy in a few minutes.
• After rushing the pokey ones and restraining the fast ones, I will run out the door with some of them to drop them off. Hopefully I will not find two gallons of milk in the back of the truck like I did yesterday, having forgotten to take them in the night before.
• Then, I will try and find a parking spot at IHOP.  It is Tuesday, meaning finding that spot will be something akin to finding the ark of the covenant, minus the pits with pungi sticks, but adding the challenge of international drivers unaccustomed to American blinker traditions.

I’m thinking if today is normal, I’ll be annoyed within 15 minutes of leaving this sweet, Holy Spirit infused spot in my bedroom…and I’ll be annoyed with people who I just read about in Romans.  You see, sitting here in the dark, I’m reading Romans off my laptop screen – and I’m finding it very touching.  Set to a custom soundtrack of worship music and a snoring little boy, this book makes a remarkable amount of sense.   I understand this ‘we are members of one body, prefer one another, take the low place, submit to authority, love your neighbor’ stuff.  I’m moved by it.

…but the wheels fall off when I can’t apply the Pandora Like it/Don’t Like it buttons to people I meet. Here in my bedroom, in the predawn hours, I can control the environment and in doing so, I find Jesus near.  My lack of ability to find Him in the very body of people He sends my way to have relatiionship with is appalling, though.

This would be a good time for a warm, gentle blog wrap up that makes one feel better about being alive…the digital equivalent of a Hallmark card, but I’m getting no card this morning.  All I’m getting is a word from the Lord telling me that He wants to be this near for the entire day – in fact, He often does come this near during the day, but I manage to push Him away because He comes in a form that I’d rather not deal with….the life of another human being.

I have more thoughts on all this, but need to run.  Pandora just picked a song I don’t like and I want to send it away.

Randomonium: Giving Thanks Edition

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays.  I’ve had a deep appreciation for it ever since a profound Thanksgiving service the first year we were married.  I have mentioned it a number of times, but if you’re still interested, the details are here.

This morning, Kelsey outdid herself by mustering up enough cinnamon rolls to feed an army.  Not having an army, instead we fed them to our tribe and to the Engles.   It was a rare treat to have (almost) all of them in one spot – Lou, Therese, Jesse, Josiah, Jonathan,  Gloria, Jacob and Samuel Judah. Only Christy Joy wasn’t able to make it.

We love Lou and Therese.  From 2007-2008 I directed TheCall for them.  It was a very fun season.  I had an incredible team, faced challenging, fun tasks, and a lot of travel. It was not without difficulty…Lou can be a moving target, but if you can get the trucks and the gear and the bands and the vision in the same venue on a given day, the results are out of this world.

I feel like we have the best of both worlds now – we are with the Engles multiple times a week, and I’m not worrying about how to find a forklift in a random venue at 3am.  Win/Win.  Add cinnamon rolls and I’m very, very thankful.

After the Engles left, we finished getting ready for our evening meal with John & Tracie Loux and their tribe.   We have hung with John and Tracie since 2006, when we each had three kids.  Since then, they added three and we added four.   You can do the math.  Take off your shoes if necessary.  It was not a quiet evening meal, but it was full of thanks.

After they headed home, we fired up the video projector for a wall-size showing of UP.  Is it my imagination, or does the guy from UP look like Chuck Colson?  I’m just sayin’.

Yes, I See That Hand

As I sat in the prayer room this morning, I remember a brief encounter I had last winter that helped me get my head around how life has changed for us.

Christmas Eve 2008, we went to the prayer room, as we try to do for a while each Christmas eve.  It’s a wonderful place – often fairly empty, one musician and a scattering of people singing a song for a savior on the night we remember His birth.   I’d like to tell you how in tune I was with the majesty of it, but I was in my nearly annual funk a day or two early.

Most years between Christmas and New Year, I dip into a dark place. It’s not the dark night of the soul. It’s more like the frustrated spot of the middle aged guy.  It revolves around this thought:  Am I happy with what I’ve accomplished this year?   And invariably, year after year, I’m not.  I usually approach the end of the year with a jumble of unrealized expectations and the knowledge that I doofed it.

The needle of the soul-o-meter was dipping left that evening as I faced the ending of another year that didn’t turn out like I’d hoped.  The book that I’d heard so much about was not yet published.  Or written, for that matter.   We were selling a house but The Compound was in unlivable condition.  It would be cold, dark months before we would walk into our own home.  I felt dislocated, unknown, tired and more than a little sorry for myself.  OK, a lot sorry for myself.

As I stood to the side of the room, my back against the wall in more ways than one, I confessed in prayer “I’m not happy with what I’ve done this year….I’m so disappointed.  I’m so disappointed.”  I looked down for a moment at Anna, asleep in my arms.  In a moment, I heard the Whisper.  It’s not an audible voice, though I’d love it to be.  Never the less, it echoed within me.

“I know you’re not happy with what you’ve done this year.  But what do you think about what I’ve done?’.

Awkward silence.  Me, too smart to answer quickly.  The Voice, without need of saying any more.

I glanced down again at my 3 month old daughter, then across the room at her twin sister in her mother’s arms.  Hot tears began to drop down off my checks on to her blanket.   The memories of adopting the twins began to swirl through my head, followed by a myriad of things that His hand had done in the past year.  Babies born.  Friendships formed.  Vision dropping like stars into our dreams at night.  We didn’t do everything we wanted to this year, but He did everything He wanted.

I vowed that night that I wouldn’t live another year like the last.  I wanted to learn to see The Hand day by day and live with a grateful heart, knowing that the summary of my life will  not be what I did but rather what He did in my proximity.  I’ve walked it out better this year…not perfect, but certainly with a greater appreciation of what God is doing and the realization that what I am doing is not the measure of who I am.

Yes, Lord, I see that hand.

When Feedback Works

If you’ve ever worked with a sound system, you know feedback – that ringing sound that grows in intensity until it deafens everyone in the room – is the enemy.  It’s to be avoided at all cost – in fact, you’ll see the person running the sound board pull all the levels down to zero if necessary to avoid feedback.  It’s just that unpleasant.

Regrettably, people often respond to personal feedback regarding something they’re working on in the same manner.  At the first sign that someone is going to make a suggestion, they pull all the sliders back to zero so they can’t hear what they’re trying to say.    It’s understandable, to a degree, because all of us have gotten unsolicited, unhelpful feedback in the past.  It’s easier just to tune it out.

I’m thinking about all this because the other night after the Zoe Foundation Fundraiser, someone gave me feedback on the presentation.  You have to understand that I’ve given the talk that I gave that night at least three other times. I’ve tweaked it and massaged it already.  In my mind, it’s as good as it’s going to get…yet this person presented a few ideas to me that I found myself very receptive to.  When I thanked them for their input, I was genuinely thankful….not just trying to move them along.

I spent part of the next day thinking about what made this experience so much different than others I’d had.   Why was I so receptive?  And could I learn to give people feedback in such a way that they would hear it like I heard this individual?  What did they do that helped me put down my defenses long enough to consider what they were saying?

1)  Ask Permission

The individual I spoke with Saturday night literally started with a question – “Could I talk with you at some point about some of the things you said tonight?”   Instantly I knew this would not be a 30 second conversation, but they signaled a willingness to wait.  They weren’t looking to monopolize my time and were open to having the discussion later.

Hostile critics are usually not willing to delay their download.  Genuinely helpful people know that you’re busy and are happy to do it at a later time.  I was so intrigued, we pulled up two chairs and dove right in.

2)  Establish Credibility

In this case, the individual was an adoption professional.  They spoke to me about technical things I’d addressed and told me how I might better clarify them and what pitfalls I might be susceptible to using the examples I was using.

She didn’t tell me the music was too loud or that roast beef would have been a better choice than the chicken dinner.  She might have had opinions about those things, but she kept her input in her area.   If you’re giving broad feedback across multiple areas, you’re  not being helpful.  You’re probably just venting.

3) Tell Them Why You Care

This was not a disgruntled person.  This was a person full of hope that The Zoe Foundation could be all that it should be.  She told me that she leaned back during the presentation, wondering if I would hit the issues that were important to her.  When I closed with a segment on caring for birth moms, the whole thing mattered to her at a greater level.  She was not offering wanton observations, she was sharing her heart and experience because she wanted The Zoe Foundation to succeed.

4)  Be Open to Questions

Ten minutes into our discussion, I realized I had a rich resource and started asking the questions.  I discovered that there were a few other things she had some feelings about but had chosen not to speak all of her mind, assumable because she didn’t want to come across as negative.  By this time, though, I was asking for it. Solicited feedback is always valued more than unsolicited feedback.

I’m still processing some of the things that this person shared with me.  When I deliver this set of ideas next time, I can guarantee you I’ll do a few things differently.  Just as importantly, next time I sit down and give someone feedback, I hope I do so in the same way.  That was a gift to me.

All that to say thanks to a tactful adviser from Atlanta.  You probably taught me more than you realize.

A Whole ‘Nuther Kind of Alive

I slipped in to the Student Awakening service tonight just in time to hear Laura Hackett tear into the sing-songy “I was made for / I was made for / I was made for / I was made for / I was made for / I was made for love”. 

This lyric probably best exhibits the fact that some things do not make the transfer from music to prose, because reading it back it sounds rather dorky…but sung, at the top of one’s lungs, with 2000 other people who are singing at the top of their collective lung, it’s a different experience.

Across the room, they were bouncing.  ‘Dancing’ is too kind of a word for most of what was happening, as it denotes a certain grace and panache.  No, the joint was jumping in a pentecostal pogo the likes of which I’ve rarely seen.  And why?  Because the lyric pings the heart of anyone with an ear to hear it.  It declares what we all pray is true – that we were made for something beyond ourselves.

There is a growing discontent with the hollowness of self gratification.  Periodically, when preaching, I’ll drop a line about the rewiring of the American Dream, because it’s become the American Nightmare.  In the past year, I’ve probably said it six or eight times.  Each time, people cheered.  Why? Because they know they were made to dream bigger than a bigger mortgage than their parents could imagine.  They are skeptical of buying the sack of goods that they’re told comprises the Good Life.  They are convinced that if a Good Life exists, it’s out there, beyond them.

Beyond them it is.  Beyond circumstance, beyond happenstance, in a place of divine orchestration….God knew them before they were born.  He created them for interaction with Himself.  Divine reaching to decrepit, embracing us, and declaring ‘you were made for loving me.’  It’s not a pitch for the Good Life, it’s the experience of Real Life.

So keep your church services orchestrated at the lowest common denominator of discomfort.   Wind up your tidy sermons on how to have a better life, quantified by your 31 day average balance.  I don’t think you’re going to sway people much longer.  I’m not totally sure you ever did.

When people realize they were made for a purpose beyond self gratification, they come alive at a whole ‘nother level.

So about these meetings…

I have started three blog posts about the extended meetings that we have been enjoying at IHOP-KC.  All three posts tried to explain the whole concept of Holy Spirit oriented meetings, healings, manifestations, etc., to the uninitiated.  All three posts turned out very wordy and excessively boring.

With the understanding that this will not be the final word from me on these happenings, I’ve decided to just do a stream of consciousness post and saving the homeletics, hermanuetics and apologetics for a later date.  The days without this sort of activity of the Spirit will leave us plenty of time for all three….but tonight, dog tired and a heart full of love, this is all I have for you.

I love that God is using Wes Hall in such a significant way in these meetings.  I know Wes to be of the highest character, committed to scholarship and without a bend toward hype.   When Wes can’t finish a sentence because he keeps errupting in laughter, I don’t wonder “Is this God?”   God, thanks for making it easy for us.  This is you…because that’s not Wes.

It’s nice to see extended meetings in a place with multiple quality worship leaders.  It takes away a bit of the cult of personality that often surrounds these sorts of things.

If the meetings continue, at some point we’re going to need to figure out parking and seating.   The closest thing that I’ve ever been around that had this sort of energy on it was the Brownsville Revival.  Their auditorium was not much bigger than ours, but they had numerous other buildings (and were able to buy parking areas near their building) that allowed them to host 5,000 people or more each night.  I don’t know how that could happen on our current location.  I also know there are probably smarter people than me thinking about this already and I’m glad they are.

Baptisms are going to be core.  There was so much joy in the room tonight to see people take this faith step.  And Hal Lindhart does the most theologically astute baptisms ever.  One should get their own M.Div when they come up out of the water.

Can we just raise our hands and shout one collective ‘Shundai!’ for the tech people who, on a few hours notice, have been able to webstream this whole thing with such high quality?  Where else on earth could you tell the crew “we’re going to do broadcast a six hour event live, every day, for…..a while” and not have to hire people the next day?   You can watch the webstream from 6pm to Midnight central time at www.ihop.org.

I like that we’ve been careful not to term this a revival.  I don’t know that we know exactly what a true one looks like…’awakening’ sounds more accurate to me anyway.  Early on I had bad dreams about someone printing t-shirts with the words “The IHOP Outpouring” or “The Great Fiddler Revival”.   Let us not go there.

So…that’s all I have to say right now.  If I didn’t answer your questions, put them in the comment section and I’ll try to in coming days.  Meanwhile, I’m going back to the webstream. I left the actual meeting about two hours ago but can’t drag myself away from the screen.

Your Attention(s) Please

The present dearth in blogging content is brought to you due to a weary laptop with a broken screen.  Thank you very much.

Lumberjack Angels

I’m enjoying a slow morning at The Compound.  At least, slow by our tribe’s standards.  Most of the kids are still asleep.  As I sit on a little wicker loveseat in our bedroom, I hear grandma in the kitchen talking to the twins, who are no doubt sitting in their high chairs dropping breakfast on the floor.   The sun streams through our bedroom windows and birds chirp to one another, asking “Is it really November?”

Near the southwest corner of the house stands a row of mismatched trees.   Most of them are smaller and of unknown variety.  Four or five are tall Poplar trees, each taller than the old two story house, narrow, and quite dead.   One stands less than fifteen feet from the corner.   Were it to fall – or rather, when it falls – it holds enough potential energy to drop through the roof of my mom’s studio apartment and probably tear that entire portion of the house off.

This would not be good.

The trees are not just unsightly.  They’re a danger…and they they have an attitude.

They stare at me every day when I pull into the cul-de-sac, whispering “some day, goof ball.  Some day we will take avenge the wooden bretheren that were destroyed to make this house by giving our all to crush it like some great tree martyrs….”.   I lay in bed at night in fear of hearing shouts of “Knothole Akbar!”

And what the trees say would be true…except for the one thing they don’t know.  Today, we get a visit from the Lumberjack Angels.

God’s given us some amazing friends.  In particular, amazing friends with some killer chainsaws.  These friends had a little meeting the other day…walking The Compound and, like friends do, deciding “If we don’t help these poor people out now, we’ll end up needing to build them another house….”, so they made an executive lumberjack decision.

Those trees are coming down.  Today.

Previous commitments have Kelsey and I away from the house.  They didn’t care.  Actually, they know my work history and they may have selected this time with that in mind.  Whatever the case, they didn’t ask.  They’re just going to do.  It’s what my friend Andie calls a do-ocracy.  They see what needs to be done and they’re going to make it happen.

I’d heard talk about it but the first direct contact I had was yesterday when one called to ask where I wanted the firewood stacked.  Unbelievable.  Where does God find people like this?  And when He does, He sent them to us?!   Amazing.

God, bless the Lumberjack Angels today.    And dead Poplar trees, mockers be warned…you are destined for the fire.

It’s About Participation

Often times I hear from people who are moved by the message of adoption but are not in a place in life where adoption is an option.  They may have read something or heard Kelsey or I speak.  They end up feeling more condemned than encouraged…because it’s not possible for them to adopt at this time.

I want to let them (and you) in on a little secret.  I don’t think everyone is supposed to adopt.  I think more people are supposed to than are willing to think about it, but I also know there are people who are fully supportive and yet are not supposed to participate in the adoption movement in that way.

At the same time…there is room for everyone to participate in adoption.  Here are a couple of ways you can get in the game, even if now is not the season for you to bring a child into your home.

Become an adoptive grandparent.

Find an adoptive family in your sphere who may not have a lot of family support and pronounce yourself family.  Do the fun stuff that grandparents can do and parents can’t afford.  Show up with a surprise from the dollar store.  Send cards with a couple of bucks in it.  Single out a family to love in tangible ways.  Particularly in our transient culture, people often live far away from the sorts of people who used to do these things for them.

Use your pulpit.

Don’t skip this just because you’re not a pastor.  Everyone has a pulpit.  Maybe a better way to describe it is a platform.  A blog, a small group, a friend captive in your car on a long drive.  Talk about adoption.  Tell them why it’s important.  Let it hang awkwardly as your married friends wrestle with the fact that behind closed doors, they have this discussion over and over again.

Invest your finances.

Why should you help someone else adopt?  Don’t people have a responsibility to pay for the expenses of their family?  Yes….and no.    The needs of the widows and orphans rest on the whole of the church.  Most families incur huge expenses in adopting.  By pitching in your 2 cents or 2 grand, you are living in obedience.

Truthfully, you have the most to gain.  Yes, your funds matter, but in the grand scheme of things, the adoptive family is going to be buying tennis shoes, lunch tickets, tuition and book bags until the cows come home.  Get in on the ground floor of this investment and know for the rest of your life that you helped set that child in the place God had for them.  That’s a pretty good return on investment.

Recently, a young man in his early 20’s approached me. He’d been saving for a long time and wanted to invest in adoption.  Expecting him to hand me a couple of twenties, he wrote out a check to The Zoe Foundation for $1200, which we will in turn give to families to help with adoption expenses.   He walked away on top of the world.  He was a part of the grand conspiracy to rob the enemy of orphans.

Not everyone is going to adopt….but everyone can participate.  Don’t let your inability to take in a child stop you from being a part of it.