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Showing posts from March, 2012

Forgiveness for All Things

When you're in the newspaper business, you get used to the idea that your mistakes are on display for everyone to see.  As I used to say, "When I mess up at my job, everybody knows about it.  There's no hiding it." That was evident on the day I wrote a story about the new marching band director in town.  I gave the entire bottom section of the sports section to the story about this new director and the impact the band was having on the basketball atmosphere.  I thought it was a pretty good piece. Two problems.  One, I misspelled his name throughout the article.  Two, I left an "L" out of the word public, when talking about how long he had taught in public school.  Needless to say, I was embarrassed.  My co-workers loved every minute of it.  From them on, I never missed the word public in a story.  My co-workers also laughed frequently about "pubic" school. As bad as that was, I got over it.  We re-ran the story, with everything correct.  No h

Jesus knows all about you

I remember when Sara, my wife, was pregnant with our daughter Elizabeth.  Sara would read books to our unborn child.  Both of us would talk to her in the womb.  We would feel her kick and move around.  It was amazing to say the least. Yet, according to Psalm 139, Jesus already knew her.  He formed her inner most parts.  He weaved together her organs.  He was already aware of her personality.  He knew everything about her long before we ever met her face-to-face. That's awesome to know.  The God of the universe, the King of all things, knew Elizabeth before we did.  Even more amazing, he knew me long before my parents did.  In fact, he still knows me and knows me better than I know myself. Nothing is a surprise to God.  Not my my joy or my shock.  Not my reactions or my words.  Especially not my sin.  God knows everything I'm going to do long before I do it.  He also knows when I disappoint him. We think we can hide our sins.  I don't know why we think that.  We beli

Standing near the storm

I've always been fascinated by storms.  My wife will hunker down in a closet or a basement with our daughter and enough supplies to survive a week alone.  I will stay upstairs or in the living room staring out the door or windows watching the storm.  I love seeing the wind, hearing the thunder, watching the lightning, and observing the wrath of a booming thunderstorm.  I've always said if I could be out in the middle of nowhere, and know that no one would get hurt or that no property would be destroyed, I'd love to witness a tornado up close and in person.  Storms just fascinate me.  I'll admit I'm a bit of a weather geek. That being said, two weeks ago I was reminded of the fury and violence of severe storms.  The neighborhood where my wife and I lived in Crittenden five years ago was hit hard by a tornado.  Some homes were destroyed, but almost every home has some kind of damage.  When we served in Eastern Kentucky, I regularly drove through the town of Saly

God is present in the tough times

What a difference a year makes! I looked back through my prayer journal this morning to what I wrote a year ago.  I noticed the entry for March 10 indicated it was a hard morning.  That's the morning I learned things weren't going to go the way I had planned. Just a few days prior, my pastor had informed me he was retiring from the church.  He had been offered a position to be a chaplain at the hospital (which he is VERY good at), and he was announcing his decision the following Sunday.  At the same time, I had been in talks with a church and it was going really well, or so I thought.  The plan was for me to announce my resignation the following Sunday. March 10 was the date the church called and informed me that while I thought everything had gone well (and they agreed my visit went well), they had some reservations about my fit with the church.  They were no longer going to pursue me as a candidate.  (To this date, the church has not hired a youth minister.) I was dev

Commitment is the key

Recently, I attended the meeting for coaches of the under 4 YMCA soccer league.  Intimidated is probably not strong enough a word to use for the experience. If you are unaware, I usually call soccer a "communist" sport in jest.  I just don't understand it.  I covered it for 8 seasons as a sports writer and to this day, I simply don't understand some of the rules and nuances of the game.  So why was I at this meeting?  I signed up to be a coach in case they needed a warm body who could handle kids.  Guess what?  They did.  I am now the warm body coaching my daughter's soccer team.  I thought it would be easy: a game a week, a practice and some quality time with my daughter.  They'd provide everything else. Not exactly. Try two games a week plus a practice.  Plus refereeing and coaching the games.  Plus organizing the parents.  Plus teaching the basics of soccer.  Immediately I felt over my head.  This is not what I signed up for. I waited through the