What you’re missing on Twitter

The experts who know such things assure me that there are upwards of 400 people in the United States who still refuse to use Twitter.  Of these 400, some are incarcerated and the balance live in Arkansas. (Statistics are slightly skewed by those actually incarcerated in Arkansas who may count as two…).

My gut says the bulk of this blog’s readers find it via my twitter or facebook , but if you don’t, here’s a few pictures you missed recently, along with a more-than-140-character summary, which will allow you to talk about it down at the VFW hall with a greater authority than those who only saw the twitter link.

Two Times the Funny

The twins are growing at a ridiculous rate.   They  have a strange, innate understanding of the concept of ‘divide and conquer’.   When they are awake – which is more often than not – it takes one person full time to avert a mutiny.

Recent pastimes are standing on the chairs you see them sitting in here, opening the fridge, and antiphonal squealing.

I’m in Wheel Twubble

My beloved Montero is in it’s second shop in ten days.  Zoe and I are pictured here a week ago Thursday, when at 40mph (uphill, in the rain, in traffic) the blessed white Mitsubishi went dead stick on me.   I coasted to a rarely used turning lane and called our insurance company for a tow.   In this photo, we’re waiting.

Turns out it had blown the master fuse.   After five days at the shop, my mechanic admitted “Uh, I don’t know.  I’m stumped.”   I located a second shop and attempted to drive the truck there, but I fried it again.  The truck has gone  175,000 miles and never left me set…and suddenly it’s on the hook twice in a week.

This is a major emotional and financial bummer for me. I have an irrational affection for this vehicle. It still looks great, and when not blowing the master fuse, runs great.  I don’t want a different vehicle. This truck has a lot going for it.  Style. 4wd. And no auto loan.   Now to get it fixed…

Grayson and the Odorous Disaster.

Grayson came home from the CRI training last Sunday afternoon.  He’d spent 4 days in the cold rain and mud learning disaster relief.  He unpacked his bags and climbed into bed.  A few days later, we noticed an odor in his room.

We have three boys.  We are not strangers to odors.  This one, however, could have peeled the quills off a porcupine.

After a day of “it’ll get better…” and it not getting better, we started searching.  All the laundry in the room: Gone.  Any food: Gone.  Wet towels: Gone.  Still, the smell remained.  Finally Kelsey noticed that he’d hung a cheap rain poncho on his bunk bed.  It smelled like a dead animal.  We tossed it, opened up the windows, and the smell nearly left.

Later, he casually mentioned “It was cold and we didn’t have had warmers, so we grabbed a few extra hard boiled eggs at dinner.”

“Uh, where did you put those?”

“In my poncho pockets.”

I see.  That explains it.

The Best of Intentions

Over the weekend, we had a small Craigslist sale that has made a remarkable difference in our lives…not financially, but in our habits.

The Compound’s master bedroom has a small transition room that connects the bedroom to the bath.  It features floor to ceiling built in cabinets and drawers – original from the 30’s.    You’d never find it in a new house…and it is The Bomb.

A friend of ours looked at it the other day and asked “Why do you own a dresser?  You have no need for one!”

We agreed….so we sold our dresser and made room for a small love seat, chair and coffee table.  Suddenly, once the kids are in bed, we find ourselves sitting there and talking.  In days past, we would have piddled around the office or the kitchen, often doing our own separate thing.  What started as a novelty – “wow – we can sit down in here!” has become a nightly ritual.  We sit – often in the dark – and talk.  I’m loving it.

Last night, once the conversation wound it’s way past the next day’s schedule, how we’re going to pay for the yet un-repaired truck, and what we were going to grab when we raided the kitchen, we found ourselves talking about our schedules.

We came to an agreement.  We are getting sucked into scheduled events that don’t give either of us life.  We mean well.  Everyone involved means well.  The issues are important…and we can contribute and glean.  So why do these things still feel like death on a stick?

Kevin & Lorna Matthews were key leaders here at IHOP for a long time.  Once, in a management meeting, Kevin watched me squirm as I tried to avoid being given a role that I really didn’t want.  It wasn’t that I wasn’t qualified – but rather that I didn’t want to do it.

Later, Kevin pulled me into a side room and drew two circles, one within the other.  He pointed to the bigger circle and said “this is what you’re capable of…”.    Then he pointed to the smaller circle inside and said “This is what you’re called to do.   You’re capable of more than you’re called to….and they will forever be trying to pull you out of the smaller circle and into the bigger one.  Don’t go there.”

I knew exactly what he meant…but had to ask “Who are ‘they’”.

With his ominous British accent, he said “Everyone.”

Kevin wasn’t paranoid.  He was talented.  He had a lot of skills none of us knew about because he wouldn’t tip his hand for fear of getting tapped for a lot of jobs he had no passion for.  (Some time later, he offered me office space in a suite they were renting…where I discovered he had a very elaborate IT setup that he’d built himself.  I asked him “Does anyone know you can do this?”   He said “No, and if you tell them, I will throttle you…”.)

That was six years ago or more and I’m still fighting the struggle to stay within the smaller circle.   The same is true of Kelsey. Half of the meetings I attended this week were time-suckers which I could have been represented in by a well trained monkey.  Of course, I didn’t know this going in…so the failure is mine.  Failure to discern and failure to resist the pull from one circle to another.

We talked about what gave us life and what felt like a drag…and vowed to be more intentional in our scheduling.  I’m going to start saying ‘no’ more, or at least being very selective about available times.

I need to proactively protect Kelsey’s time as well.  Her schedule is often far more taxed than mine.  Two nights ago she had a profound prophetic dream that spoke volumes to a major leader…and I’m inviting her to meetings that circle like a jet at O’Hare – round and round and never landing.    With her dream life, she’s more valuable asleep than she is awake….and when she is awake, I can’t afford to waste her time.

I can’t worry if people will feel like I’m disengaging from their next big thing.  Life and purpose are found inside the smaller circle.

Jesus Arrested: film at 11.

I was perusing the later chapters of John this morning when the heading of chapter 18 jumped out at me like a Drudge Report headline:  Jesus Arrested.

Now, I understand the chapter headings were not written as part of the original manuscripts – neither were the chapter and verse numbers, for that matter.  If you would have held up a “John 3:16″ sign in a New Testament crowd, it would have had no effect at all.  Hmmm.  Some things don’t change.

Divinely inspired or not, the headline caught my eye and my imagination.  In a moment, I twittered a quick thought about it…but the thought developed beyond what 140 characters can hold.    I began to think about the nature of leadership and how it necessitates a certain edge that sets it apart from management.

To be fair, managers have a difficult job and are often reviled as Dilbertesque types.  This isn’t about making light of the managerial role, but rather about how being a leader is an additional skill set that not all have.  We sometimes equate a renegade with a good leader, making excuses for bad behavior because ‘he’s a renegade….’ but it’s not quite that simple.

It’s true that not all trouble makers are good leaders, but all good leaders are trouble makers.

There are people in leadership roles who aren’t leaders, they’re just too troublesome to be managers and too loud to ignore.  Those aren’t the types I’m talking about.   All true leaders do cause some element of trouble for those around them because they challenge the way things are done.  It’s their calling.

If the Judaic sacrificial system were adequate to relieve the issue of sin once and for all, God wouldn’t have sent His Son.  He would have sent a manager to balance to books, feed the sheep and clean up the blood.

The essence of leading is charting new courses and then bringing people with you.  If your leader is making you uncomfortable with changes they want to implement, ask yourself if you’re being helpful with your second guessing.  Certainly, our wholly-human leaders are not infallible, but in doing their job, they’re going to rattle people once in a while – ourselves included.

If you’re a leader who finds yourself managing out of self preservation, take a look at your situation and ask “What part of my world would best be adjusted with a baseball bat?”  It might be time to break some systems down and cause some trouble.

Having a record of convictions raises eyebrows.

We find ourselves meeting a lot of people and answering the same questions repeatedly.  “How long have you been married?”  Twenty years.  “How many kids?”  Seven.  “Where’d you meet?”  Just once, I want to say “Prison….” and let it hang their like an over-ripe avocado.   Nothing changes the tone of a conversation like an unexpected prior conviction.

There are convictions for wrong – the kind that put you behind bars – and there are convictions for right.  Unfortunately, you’re often treated the same for having either kind.   Leaders are constantly challenging others based on their own convictions.   If they see something being done that they think is wrong – not just done poorly, but ethically wrong – they can’t look the other way.

Raising a conviction among those you’re leading sets you up for all sorts of criticism.  You can be called holier than thou, you can be talked about behind your back, you can be kissed on the cheek by a betrayer and turned over to the authorities…but you can’t be a leader and look the other way.

Leadership doesn’t ride on consensus.  It rides on convictions.  If you can divorce yourself from your convictions while doing your job….well, you’ll manage, but you won’t lead.

Had Jesus led by appeasement rather than convictions, He might have survived the arrest episode.    He could have talked his way out of the charges, made a few promises, and gone on to live into his eighties.  He might have synagogue-planted and become quite successful actually.  You don’t need strong convictions to do that.

Instead, He laid down his life for His conviction that you and I needed redemption, not just life coaching.

I’m glad Jesus was a leader.

Looking Forward

Just a few weeks ago, we took time to reflect on ten years of night and day prayer here in Kansas City.

It would be understandable if, at the ten year mark, people were ready to lean back and rest for a moment.  Mike Bickle took eight sessions over three days to retell the prophetic history of night and day prayer in Kansas City.    Note – all the mp3s are available for FREE DOWNLOAD.

We’d heard many of the stories before, but to hear them at this point – and put ourselves on the time line – had a huge impact on us.  It’s funny….our family has been here since 2003, but it’s still possible to feel like ‘the new guys’, when in reality we’ve been here for six of the ten years that prayer has been going on around the clock….and you know what?  We’re energized.

We’re energized because of what we’re seeing on the Missions Base. To say IHOP-KC has grown in the six years we’ve been here would be a vast understatement  Every few months, a new set of internships start with hundreds of people, young and old, setting aside their regular schedule to plumb the depths what God has for them.  Some stay on as permanent staff, but many return home to help share what they’ve learned, serve local churches, go on to foreign missions, or plant outposts of  prayer around the globe.  Stay or go, these people build the greater prayer movement!

We’re energized with the new Justice Initiative. On the final night of the celebration, Mike challenged IHOP to match it’s 24/7 prayers for justice with 24/7 acts of justice.   Strategies are being put in place that will mobilize our entire community in projects that will bring the Kingdom of God in practical ways to the hurting and needy.   Some of these projects include:

• Dedicating a large part of our real estate to a Women’s Center, providing housing and care to women who are in need.
• Further development of the Orphan Justice Center that will care for the undocumented minors who are brought to the US in the sex trafficking business.
• Embracing adoption at a whole new level with an in-house adoption agency that serves our community and a substantially lower cost – and coaches other churches and houses of prayer to do the same.
• Partnering with CRI to bring prayer, healing and practical helps to disaster zones.

At the close of the service, Kelsey and I – as well as other leaders – joined Mike on stage to dedicate ourselves to this justice initiative from a place of prayer.  It’s not prayer or works, it’s both…until the return of Christ brings perfect justice to the earth.

On that monumental night, the IHOP friends and staff joined together in an offering to give $470,000 towards these efforts.   We’ve never been more proud to be missionaries at IHOP.   The people we serve with are among the most generous that we’ve ever known.

Thanks to all of you who help us continue on in night and day prayer – and justice efforts – by your sacrificial gifts of finances, encouragement and moral support.  We are honored to be here and honored to represent you.

Randy & Kelsey

Jesus Said Hard Stuff.

I was thumbing through John 16 this morning, literally, on my phone’s Bible application.  Take that, everyone in the prayer room who thought I was texting. As I read John 16, It struck me how far Jesus’ description of the days to come are from our own experience…and often, our values.

Jesus gives us a clear heads-up about a crisis to come that almost no one wants to talk about, even as we flap our yappers about everything that we think the world wants to hear.

For example, the Christian environmental movement.  (allow me a moment to don the nomex).   I realize that I am about to step on toes here, but please know I’m only doing it so you’ll move your toes while you can.

Understand that I am not anti-environment or anti-environmentalist.  I’m the first in my family line as far back as we can see who did not make their livelihood directly from the land.  Farmers are among the most environmentally sensitive people you’ll find – abusing the land directly affects their pocketbook.  I remember my dad refusing to use certain chemicals that would have boosted production short term but ultimately hurt the ground we lived on.  I value the planet and think we should take care of what we’re given to steward.  Biblically speaking, we’re going to be here a long, long time.

With this background, I’ve watched with bemusement as more and more conferences, etc.,  are dedicated to ‘creation care’, led by angst driven folks who insist that the most important thing the church could be about right now would be care of the planet we live on.    Is it a real issue?  Yes.  Is it the issue that will be the end of us all?  Not so much.

At the risk of being totally misunderstood – and all communicators run that risk – let me make the following statement:

We’re worrying about the temperature of the cow while completely oblivious to the fact that the barn is on fire.

Take a look at what Jesus said about the days to come.

“They will put you out of the synagogues; yes, the time is coming that whoever kills you will think that he offers God service.”

Jesus’ teaching had a double-ring to it.  Of course, He was speaking to His disciples, but He was also speaking to a forward generation of people who would be on the earth when the end would come.  Are we that generation?  We may be.  If we’re not…perhaps our children?  It’s not clear when….but it is clear that it will happen.

Before we face the destruction of the planet, before we deforest South America, before we are forced to drink from tin cups, having shut down all the Starbucks….before all of that, we will face a wave of religio-terrorism that will put true believers out of the places of worship and into the streets.   What we see today as a battle between Islam and Christianity will ultimately spread to an uncivil war within those who would have once called themselves of the same kingdom.    In Matthew, Jesus said that brothers would fight brothers, even unto the death.  What is beginning as battle lines between two world views will end in a battle for control of the right to speak for Jesus.

Of course, for many people, this is a truth far too inconvenient to bear, and so they go on busying themselves with other cosmic sized issued more easily projected on the whole than wrestled with by the individual.

The environment is everyone’s problem – that makes it safe to talk about, even to take responsibility for.   The murderous wave that Jesus prophesied gets very personal.   It’s far easier to pretend it isn’t real.

People you and I know will fall to either side of the line and the most personal battle of all time will take place.  Some will be put out of the conventional worship venues and those who do it will do it with a false sense of righteous dignity, believing that if they killed the perceived infidels, it would be a favor to the Good Lord Himself.  Are we ready for that?

Forgive me if I’m scratching my head at the church’s new found fascination with being responsible with the planet, especially when she continues to be irresponsible by failing to address the harder things that Jesus told us were coming.

Randomonium: Sunday Morning Edition

After several thousand words of seriousness, it’s time for the ever popular Randomonium post.

When I got Zoe out of her bed this morning, she was rubbing her eyes and announcing “Daddy….we missed a day!”  Apparently she thought she’d slept through an entire day.  Been there….although usually I feel like I’ve missed a night.

Having put new license plates on the Montero, a quart of oil in the crankcase, and twenty four gallons of gasoline in the tank, I’m a little afraid it will get stolen.  It’s now worth twice what it was before I made these investments.

Zion had two soccer games this week.  They lost the first to a team of Nephilim on Thursday night in a blow out of eschatalogical proportion.   I think it was 6-1.  Saturday afternoon they won by one goal against a team closer to their size.

For the first time ever, we live in proximity with our kids’ friends and they range like a pack from house to house.  They’re not within walking distance, but it’s close.  Saturday we hosted kids all day and into the night, when Jackson was making pancakes for his friend and a tribe of Grayson’s buddies.  It’s a blast to see them grow up.

I am presently sitting backstage at FCF on the ’speaker side’, taunting those on the ‘band side’ with news of McDonald’s breakfasts.   It is so sad to see how easily musicians are motivated.  Sitting here, thinking about all it takes to make a Sunday morning happen, and realizing I’d rather work the parking lot in December than run sound any weekend of the year.  Then again, if they let me run sound one weekend, I’d be vanquished to the parking lot pretty quickly.

And a word about those parking lot attendants who save us a coveted ‘cone spot’ near the door because of all our little kids…..we rise up and call you blessed.   And to the people who say “wow – I wish I had seven kids so I could park near the door”, I say verily, verily, you are a short sighted generation.

Zoe’s Story

We celebrated the twins’ birthday recently by telling their story.  Today is Zoe’s 3rd birthday party and I wanted to make sure her story got told as well.  She’s a movement-starter on multiple levels.

We love you, Zoe!

We had thought about adoption for many, many years, but the fuse of the rocket was lit with a dream.    In 2001, we were church planting with a small group of young marrieds on the north side of Cincinnati, Ohio.   We had two sons, ages 8 and 4, and were early on in a pregnancy when Kelsey had a dream.

In the dream, her doctor appeared to her with a clipboard in hand.  Our first two sons had been born in Tennessee so this was the first time we’d used this particular doctor, and both of us were very pleased with him.  He had a warm, approachable demeanor that gave expectant parents confidence.
“Congratulations!’ The doctor said to Kelsey.  “You’re having a girl!”

Kelsey was excited in the dream – we’ve always said that the Lord knows what He’s doing and never got too caught up in wishing for a boy or girl specifically, but it was fun for her to think that after two boys, the house might be full of pink and lace.

“You’re having a girl…” he continued.  “And you’re going to name her Savannah Zoe.”    With that, the dream was done.

The next morning, she shared the dream with me and we wondered….could this be the word of the Lord for us?  Kelsey is a born researcher so naturally, she began to investigate the meaning of the name.   She knew that “Zoe” meant “Life” – that seemed like a great name for a baby.  It was the “Savannah” portion that had her scouring the internet…and she wasn’t crazy about what she found.     It seems that any explanation for the name Savannah referenced “a barren place.”

I remember Kelsey turning to me and asking “Who would name their child ‘from a barren place?’”

Some months later,  an ultrasound technician stared at the screen of her ultrasound machine and announced “Congratulations!  You’re having a boy!”   With that announcement, the idea of a little girl named Savannah Zoe dissipated.   Some months later, our son, Zion Isaiah, was born and we laughingly chalked up the whole dream episode to raging hormones.

Dreams are sneaky.  They raise their heads where you don’t expect them, in the places and times that make the least sense.  Then, when you think you have figured out how they’ll play out, they disappear for a season.  Often, later they spring up again, almost forgotten yet very much alive.

In the years that followed Zion’s birth, Kelsey had a series of dreams that played out with remarkable consistency.   In those dreams, she found herself standing on a balcony at night, overlooking a dark back yard of a home that backed up to undeveloped land.   In the darkness, she could hear a squeak – a faint cry of a newborn infant.  As she squinted into the night, she would just barely see the form of a baby laying out there.

Each time in the dream, she ran downstairs and out the back door to rescue the baby.  As she approached the child, a Latino woman would come out of the darkness.  Kelsey knew this woman to be the child’s mother.  The mother would protectively scoop up the baby and hold it to herself.  The baby was a girl – no diaper, no onesie, just wrapped in a blanket.

Sensing the mother’s fear, Kelsey assured her that we would care for her child.  Eventually, the mother would hand the baby to Kelsey and drift back into the shadows.  Kelsey would carry the child into the house and began to clean it and comfort it.

This dream played itself out a number of times, each time leaving Kelsey to wonder ‘who is this baby?’ and ‘what might this mean?’.

In time, we began to understand that this dream and the first related to the story of Ezekial 16.   In that passage, God finds a baby – naked, unwashed and uncared for, lying in an empty field – much like the baby Kelsey saw from her balcony.    He notes that the baby was not cleaned, rubbed with salt or swaddled in cloth, but rather thrown in a field, presumably to die.  With the authority rightfully belonging to the God of all creation, He prophesies over the baby – one word, although arguably the most powerful, reality-altering word that child could receive.  “LIVE.”

Beginning with that one word, reality began to shift for that baby.  Ezekiel wrote that God made her grow like a plant of the field.  She developed into a beautiful young woman who God returned to and made covenant with.  That one word in the desert changed her destiny.    With that piece in place, Savannah Zoe – “from a barren field, LIFE!” – made a lot of sense to us…except for the fact that we had three sons and no Zoe in sight.

Even with these two dreams and the realization of what they might mean, we could not have written a script that better intertwined it all.

On a Tuesday afternoon in October, 2006, God flipped the prophetic switch in our lives.  Years of dreams and preparation began to work in sync.

I received a phone call from a social worker in Las Vegas.  A baby girl had been born the day before.  The social worker described her as “half African American, half Latino, with a gorgeous head of hair….”.

My head spun as I sat down on the corner of our bed.   I was almost afraid to get excited – had my daughter been born halfway across the country?  I knew it was customary for birthmoms to choose from a number of prospective families.   “How many portfolios are you presenting to the birthmother?”  I asked.

“Just yours.  She’s here.  If you want her, come and get her.”

Other than Kelsey saying “Yes” when I married her, I’m not sure when any other words have had such an emotional impact on me.  It was as if I was getting thumped in the chest.  “If you want her, come and get her.”

Adoption can be expensive and this particular adoption was going to be at the higher end of the spectrum.    The social worker talked to me about fees and I quickly knew we were about $7000 + airfare short of what we would need – and we’d need it in days.

Within minutes, God provided the plane tickets, so we booked a flight for the next day.  The next eighteen hours were spent scurrying around, gathering last minute paperwork, running to the police station for fingerprinting, packing a quick suitcase, and probably sleeping a few hours, although I don’t remember that part at all.  In the minutes before we left for the airport, I typed out a fast email to friends and others who had been following our adoption process.  It told of our situation and bluntly said “We need cash….can you help?”.

An hour or so later, waiting to board our flight to Las Vegas, I opened my laptop for a last minute peek at email.   A new message appeared on my screen with news that made me shout for joy.  “We were watching a documentary last night on the potential for revival in Las Vegas,” the note said. “And we want to invest in Las Vegas by wiring you $7000.”   With that, the money for our adoption was completely provided.

I’d been in the Nevada desert a number of times before, but neither of us had ever been to Las Vegas.  We’d never had a desire to go.  In fact, the slight experience we’d had with Las Vegas was not a good one.

Some years before, Kelsey’s parents both fell ill with cancer.   Tragically, they died within 100 days of one another.  Due to some bad financial decisions and their expensive illnesses, they died nearly penniless.   Her father left her a box of engineering books and some change on top of his dresser.  Her mother left a few dollars and a small life insurance policy.

The family member who was the beneficiary listed on the policy paid the funeral bills and booked a flight to Las Vegas, where most of it was gambled away in a few days.   While it was certainly legally theirs do to with what they wished, it seemed to add an exclamation point to two lives that were taken too quickly.

Loss and waste….that was the backstory that influenced our initial thoughts on Las Vegas.   Nevertheless, we looked forward to our first visit to the city with great anticipation.  There was life waiting there for us.

As the plane began to descend, we were watching out the window as the desert gave way to subdivisions and golf courses.    Somewhere over the campus of the University of Nevada – Las Vegas, Kelsey and I experienced one of those unusual visitations of the Lord.   We both heard Him in a silent inner voice as He spoke the same words to both of us:  “Your inheritance was squandered in this city, but I have sent you back with real money to buy back your own inheritance.”   We wept to realize how well loved we all are by God.

As we raced through the clamor of the Las Vegas airport on our way to the rental car counter, I received a phone call from Lou Engle, founder of TheCall.  We had been in conversation about our giving direction to a series of arena sized gatherings for fasting and prayer across the nation.  He had just been given a check to cover the rental of the NFL stadium in Nashville for TheCall to be held the next August.    At the time, my mind was anywhere but my duties with TheCall, but the timing of connecting with Lou in Las Vegas would later prove to be part of God’s grand drama.

In our rented car, we made our way through afternoon traffic to the University Medical Center with one brief stop – to buy a video camera.  We laugh about it now….we had raised three little boys without so much as thinking about a video camera, but this was our little girl!   It seemed everything was different.

Walking on to the nursery ward, we found a nurses station and asked to see a baby by the last name we had been given.  The nurse on duty gave us a blank stare.  “Who?” She asked.

I repeated the name.   She looked at her computer screen.  She checked a clip board.  She consulted with another nurse who gave her the same blank stare.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have a baby by that name.” She said.

A million thoughts raced through our minds.  Was this a joke? A cruel hoax? Had the baby been removed from the hospital?  I couldn’t believe we had come all this way…for nothing.
A half second later, a third nurse chimed in.  “That baby is downstairs in neo-natal.” She said.
It was as if the upside down earth had righted itself.    I could breath again.   We had to restrain ourselves from running down the stairs to neo-natal…after all, our girl was there!

The nurses at neo-natal were expecting us.  We were whisked through a waiting area and into the nursery itself.   Two rows of bassinets sat in the center of a large room, head to head.  We followed a nurse down the row, looking at each puff of hair protruding out from the bundle of blankets, wondering “Is this one ours?”.

Near the end of the line, the nurse turned on her heels and warmly told us “This one…she is yours.”  Truer words have never been spoken.  She picked up the baby and handed her to Kelsey, then directed us to a small room off the nursery.

“Go in here,” she said.  “You can have some privacy.”   With that, she shut the door and we were alone in the quiet with our little girl.  We pulled the blanket back from her face and stared.  Kelsey gently sat in an easy chair and, as she gazed at the face of her new little girl, began to weep.   In that moment, every dollar, every paper filled out, every phone call….it was all worth it.

After a season of time with our little bundle of joy, we left to go to our hotel for some rest.   We would return the next morning to meet with the social worker.

We had been referred to this adoption agency by a friend in the adoption business and had been told “Be aware. It’s not a Christian agency…and it is a business.”    The next morning, again with Zoe in our arms, we were excited to hear our social worker tell us “Everything looks good on your paperwork, but if you’re praying people, it never hurts to pray a little as it goes through.”
We chuckled.  We assured her we were praying people.

One thing led to another and she began to tell us the story of her pastor and their church.  They wanted to build a prayer tower on a nearby mountain that would loom over the city of Las Vegas.  Reaching across Zoe, who lay sleeping between us, she pointed to the mountain and said “A few months ago, Lou Engle prophesied that there would be a house of prayer on that mountain that would contend with every false ideology in Las Vegas…..have you guys ever heard of Lou Engle?”

Kelsey and I stared at each other.  The lengths to which God would go to orchestrate the rescue of this little girl were astounding us.  He had knit together a cast of characters around prayer, breathed a little prophetic wind on it and sat back to watch the fun.

A few days later, someone emailed us a note about the meaning of Las Vegas’ name.  It referred to an open meadow or field.  It was another one of God’s poetic touches.    We were so happy to bring Zoe – this little girl, rescued from an open field like the baby in the book of Ezekiel – back home with us.

Even then, it wasn’t over.   Almost one year to the day of leaving Las Vegas with Zoe, we were back in the city.  This time, rather than a hospital, we stood on a large stage erected in the UNLV basketball field house.   We stood near our new friends, Paul and Denise Goulet – the social worker’s pastors – and with Lou and Therese Engle, giving leadership to TheCall Las Vegas, as 8,000 people gathered to pray and fast for a move of God in their city.   I had been privileged to spend much of the previous six months networking within the city and doing the behind the scenes production for this massive gathering.

The $7,000 gift sown into the hope for revival in Las Vegas the year before was still paying dividends.    The baby rescued in the desert was there in our arms.

Our full inheritance, bought with real money and a touch of the prophetic, is still yet fully to be realized but it started like that of so many others, with a word of LIFE spoken over a little girl in the barren field.

The Zoe Foundation goes to Hotlanta…

Join us November 21/22 in Atlanta, Georgia for an adoption seminar, a vision/fundraising banquet and Sunday services at IHOP-ATL!

For more information, maps and to RSVP for the free banquet, go to www.thezoefoundation.com and hit the ATLANTA ZOE WEEKEND tab at the top!

See you there!

When you play with fire, you’re gonna have fun.

We had a crazy weekend.  I actually welcomed Monday with open arms, thinking it would feel great to get back into the groove.

This evening we worked together as a family to clear some brush near the front of The Compound.  Let me just say….I love this property.  It’s not the prettiest yard in the world, but the combination of the stone walls at various points, the goofy concrete lions, the gate, the trees…. I love it.

The Compound sits on roughly an acre, which isn’t huge, but the house itself is on a bit of a knob, with all but one of the surrounding houses considerably lower than ours.  It means the view’s a little better than you might get in town, and you can look down over your neighbor’s privacy fence and remind them that your toilets are higher than their sinks.  Have a nice day.

After clearing brush, of course, we had a brush pile….so we did what anyone else would want to do – enjoyed a small fire with marshmellows and hot dogs.  I would probably never have done this at any other house, but this is The Compound.  It’s meant for danger.

I found an old concrete planter and we converted it into a portable burn pit.  I did a grocery run and by the time I nosed the Montero back through the gate, Kelsey had a good fire going.

Zion strummed his guitar, we all sang, and we all laughed when he freestyled a blues song that ended with his shouting into the night “Thank you, Tri State area!”.

I kept glancing down the driveway expecting for a fireman to walk up from the gate in full turnout gear, but they never came.  Apparently our neighbors are learning that the new folks are the sort that are going to have a fire once in a while…and not to worry when the little boys sit on the lions waiving bows and arrows.

A good time was had by all.   It also got me thinking about building a proper burn platform for bigger fires…

Hannah’s Dream Adoptions site goes live.

We now have a temporary site up until our more robust version arrives.  You can take a closer look at www.hannahsdream.com.

Also, if you’re in the Atlanta area, be ready for the Atlanta Zoe Foundation Weekend coming November 21/22.  Schedule to follow.