The enemy is huge. They’ve camped in the valley, showing off their strength. Their camels alone are too numerous to count. One could as easily count grains of sand on the seashore.
I suspect it wasn’t any simpler to count the troops. At least not the Midianite and Amalekite warriors.
Gideon’s men? An ambitious preschooler could manage that.
There were only 300.
He had to send the rest of ‘em back to their tents.
But now I’m not sure who made out better: those sent home or those left to fight. Because it looks like 299 of the 300 remaining are about to become the punchline in a “how many Hebrew soldiers does it take” joke.
::
(more…)
2009/05/29 | Categories: Gideon, Work | Tags: dependence, Gideon, Strength, Work | 4 Comments »
I don’t like to do housekeeping.
Talking about it is almost as little fun.
So I’ll make this quick.
Email Subscription: Subscribing by email is back. Click on the “Subscribe to A Different Story by Email” link (catchy, I know) in the upper right corner. You won’t receive an email at the time a new post is published but should receive an email sometime each day when there is an update. Not flawless, but it’s an option.
Feeds: I had to update my own RSS and Blogger subscriptions (yes, I subscribe to my own . . . to make sure I know what you’re getting . . . it’s not all narcissistic) to get them to pick up the feeds correctly. Same address, but you may need to delete and resubscribe in order to stay current if you subscribe in a reader or Blogger. Of course, if you’re still waiting for your reader or Blogger to update you, well, you won’t read this anyway.
Blogrolls: If you have A Different Story listed in your blogroll (a million thanks for that) and include a feed for the most current post, that may need to be updated as well.
Thanks all for coming along. I appreciate all of you and your encouragement.
2009/05/28 | Categories: Blogging | Tags: RSS, subscriptions | Leave A Comment »
Reduction in force
Still too many men.
When Gideon had 32,000 men, God told him it was too many. Gideon knew it wasn’t nearly enough.
Yet, he’d learned to listen to God. He tested Him and tried Him and now believed Him.
So he took his 10,000 remaining men and got ready to fight with what he had.
And then he heard those awful words.
You still have too many men.
10,000 is too many?
::
I’m in the middle of one of these myself. My boss got an email just last week.
The labor grows larger while the forces grow smaller.
Management is not so popular with us right now.
::
I’m not sure how Gideon felt about management about that time, but he went along with it. Just like we’re doing.
These that remained, these 10,000 were all fighting men, ready to go to battle. The cowards, remember, already walked home to their wives and mothers.
But not all were destined to fight this battle (oh, there would be others).
He took his still too many men to the river where God said He’d pick and choose.
And then He watched them drink.
This one shall go with you . . . This one shall not go with you.
It all came down to how they drank their water.
::
Serious?
No resumes.
No list of past conquests.
No demonstration of agility with the sword or accuracy with the bow.
No test in courage.
No meaningful measure of the warrior’s fitness at all.
Just how they drank their water.
::
You knelt on the riverbank? Thank you for your interest. You have not been selected for this position but we will keep you in mind in the event a suitable position opens in the future.
We don’t need you this time.
You lapped like a dog? It’s our pleasure to extend this offer to fight with us.
Go get ready for battle.
::
What of those who took their RIF notices and went home? God didn’t need me. He preferred to go to war against the horde with just 300 men than to take me along. How bad a warrior am I? How useless in this army He’s put together.
He didn’t pick me.
He’s better off without me.
Still too many men.
When Gideon had 32,000 men, God told him it was too many. Gideon knew it wasn’t nearly enough.
Yet, he’d learned to listen to God. He tested Him and tried Him, and now he believed Him.
He remembered how the angel had said to go in the strength you have.
So he took his 10,000 remaining men and got ready to fight with what he had.
And then he heard those dreadful words.
There are still too many men.
Ten thousand is too many?
Is it really the best time for a reduction in force?
:: (more…)
2009/05/27 | Categories: Gideon, Work | Tags: Gideon, lapping water, RIF, Work | 4 Comments »
I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! (Philippians 1:20-22)
::
“Either way, I win.”
One of the dear saints in my church told of her upcoming surgery to clear what even she would call a ginormous aneurysm from way too close to her heart. The surgery is risky, and complicated by other troublesome health conditions. “I’d like to continue on,” she said. “But if I don’t, well, that’s o.k. too. I know where I’m going. And I’ll see Jack again. I haven’t seen my husband since I was, what, 35 years old.”
Either way, she wins.
Either way, a glorious outcome.
Two such excellent choices. One hardly knows which to choose.
::
This gentle warrior would tell us of the ultimate win-win scenario. And while I nod in agreement, I marvel at how she has grasped this in such a tangible way.
For me, it’s much more abstract. I don’t have a daily sense my finite condition. I read in God’s word that our lives are but a vapor, that we are as grass that withers and fades. And of course I agree. But all the while I agree, I don’t see that vapor dissipating today or tomorrow. I expect that the green grass of summer will hold out a few more seasons before it fades.
Would I nod so readily if I sensed that withering to be closer at hand?
::
Paul wrestled with the choice (though it was not his to make). “What shall I choose? I do not know!” He saw the beauty in living on in his body for he knew how God would continue to use him mightily. Yet the tug of kick starting his eternity in the heavenly realms had a certain appeal.
It left him wondering.
What’s the better choice? Which will I love more?
Which will exalt my Redeemer the most?
::
While we may not sense that the choice rests so closely on the horizon, it’s still important that our grip on this mist we call life is not so tight. Not that all the clenching in the world could make us any more able to hold the vapor in our fist.
Holding tight makes withering grass crumble.
::
Will I see the joy in both options today?
And will you join me in praying for this sweet saint and the challenges she faces in the days ahead?
::
This post originally appeared in March . . . not that long ago to repost already, I suppose. But it remains an important one for me as God continues to drive home the reality of our – of my — finite and uncertain journey here. Contrasted with the infinite wonder of our eternity with Him, it’s a curious thing we do, holding on to withering sprigs.
I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! (Philippians 1:20-22)
“Either way, I win.”
One of the dear saints in my church told of her upcoming surgery to clear what even she would call a ginormous aneurysm from way too close to her heart. The surgery is risky, and complicated by other troublesome health conditions. “I’d like to continue on,” she said. “But if I don’t, well, that’s o.k. too. I know where I’m going. And I’ll see Jack again. I haven’t seen my husband since I was, what, 35 years old.”
Either way, she wins.
Either way, a glorious outcome.
Two such excellent choices. One hardly knows which to choose.
:: (more…)
2009/05/25 | Categories: Finding Life | Tags: Eternity, Heaven, life | 2 Comments »
That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:10)
::
I spend a lot of time on bleachers. My kids’ basketball season started in October, right after football season. It’ll run until sometime in July, overlapping baseball and ending . . . just in time for football. Having my own heroes play on the sixth and eighth grade teams grants me a new privilege this year I didn’t realize I’d appreciate.
I get to have new hero on the seventh grade team.
Number 41.
::
Rarely does one see a seventh grade ball player work so hard and show so much heart as my hero Number 41. After a game, while his weary teammates gather their gear to go home, he is still on the court working his shot. Getting ready for the next big game.
Coach Lindquist calls him into the game for those special moments. Moments that call for the courage that it seems only Number 41 can muster. He takes to the court, and the crowd collectively holds its breath, always waiting, always hoping.
The fans brace, tense as Number 41 attacks each step, disciplining his wayward legs. He seems able to neither bend nor straighten, only to bounce awkwardly from one foot to the other. The psychedelic colors of his leg braces blur as he battles to thrust himself down court.
Sometimes, he gets into position before his teammates.
But other times, he falls.
A lot of times, in fact.
But every time he crashes to the ground, Number 41 wrangles himself back up to his feet.
Smiling.
Always smiling.
::
Number 41 loves the game. And the game loves him.
He defies the gravitational pull of a crippling disability and plays man-to-man defense. He fights his troublesome feet to stay in position during a free throw. He forces himself to stay upright and dodge his defender.
Wide open, he calls for the ball. He’s open! Pass him the ball!
As happens so many nights, Number 41 gets the open shot. The crowd stops breathing. The shot goes up . . . and it’s short. Again. A groan escapes from stands.
But tonight was different. Number 41 got the shot. And he put it up, just the way he’s been training to do.
The crowd exploded. On both ends of the bleachers.
He made the shot!
::
Number 41 knows his limits. He knows what he can’t do. His legs tell him all day long that he can’t run. He can’t dribble. He can’t play ball.
But he does it anyway.
He could sit in a chair and eat doughnuts and watch t.v. until what function he does have just atrophied away. Who would blame him? Walking to the refrigerator is grueling enough. Who’d expect him to run lines at basketball practice night after night, flashing a devastating grin all the way?
::
Number 41 isn’t my hero for nothing. He’s my hero because he has heart. He has courage. He looks his affliction in the eye . . . and he flashes his bright white teeth.
We could learn a lot from a guy like this.
::
This post originally ran in February. I mistakenly thought this one had already been read a fair amount. Turned out my kids accidentally bookmarked this post on their computer instead of the main page so they were gaming my statistics. Since it’s probably only been read 11 times instead of the 237 times my stats show me, I think I can excuse running it again.
The boys are grounded, by the way.
Number 41 is my favorite 7th grade basketball player.
That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:10)
I spend a lot of time on bleachers. My kids’ basketball season started in October, right after football season. It’ll run until sometime in July, overlapping baseball and golf and ending . . . just in time for football. My heroes play on the sixth and eighth grade teams, while their dad coaches the seventh graders. Having an extra team in between grants me an unexpected privilege this year.
I have new hero on the seventh grade team.
Number 41.
:: (more…)
2009/05/22 | Categories: My Kids | Tags: affliction, basketball, Courage, hero, weakness | Leave A Comment »
I’m shooting for wrapping up the move over the weekend. I’m sitting on the urge to write so I can pay attention to that and be done with it. So in the meantime, I’ll put up a few reruns. Hope you don’t mind.
(As to the move, I may go dark for several hours, maybe longer. Give me some time and come on back. And remember you may need to update your RSS subscriptions and all that technical stuff.)
This first piece was originally published in December. As we approach a year since she went home, Debbie’s on my mind often. She’s a big part of why I blog, and I’m reminded today of the impact of her life on me and so many others, right up to the very last.
Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. (2 Corinthians 5:1-5, NIV)
For instance, we know that when these bodies of ours are taken down like tents and folded away, they will be replaced by resurrection bodies in heaven—God-made, not handmade—and we’ll never have to relocate our “tents” again. Sometimes we can hardly wait to move—and so we cry out in frustration. Compared to what’s coming, living conditions around here seem like a stopover in an unfurnished shack, and we’re tired of it! We’ve been given a glimpse of the real thing, our true home, our resurrection bodies! The Spirit of God whets our appetite by giving us a taste of what’s ahead. He puts a little of heaven in our hearts so that we’ll never settle for less. (2 Corinthians 5:1-5, MSG)
For some reason, I’ve really been missing my friend Debbie the last couple of days. Not that I don’t miss her other times, but lately it’s been a little closer to the surface.
Might have been unexpectedly seeing this amazing picture of her on a friend’s Facebook page.
Might have been that things have been a little challenging at work lately, and that Debbie always had a way of helping me keep my head and remember why I come to the office. (Here’s a secret: it’s not just about the paycheck.)
I counted on that, and I just don’t have it any more.
Or it might have been that I found myself wondering what it must be like for her now, walking on a beach that might just look a lot like this picture, basking in true sunlight, and already understanding something that I’ve been struggling to get my mind around lately: This life just ain’t what it’s all about.
:: (more…)
2009/05/21 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: Debbie, Eternity, Heaven | 3 Comments »
1 Early in the morning, Jerub-Baal (that is, Gideon) and all his men camped at the spring of Harod. The camp of Midian was north of them in the valley near the hill of Moreh. 2 The LORD said to Gideon, “You have too many men for me to deliver Midian into their hands. In order that Israel may not boast against me that her own strength has saved her, 3 announce now to the people, ‘Anyone who trembles with fear may turn back and leave Mount Gilead.’ ” So twenty-two thousand men left, while ten thousand remained. (Judges 7:1-3)
Gideon is about to learn a little something about payback.
God’s been patient. He’s answered every question, quieted every doubt.
He sent an angel, shot fire from a rock, soaked a fleece and left a fleece dry.
And now He flips it around.
It’s Gideon’s turn.
You have too many men.
:: (more…)
2009/05/20 | Categories: Gideon | Tags: Gideon, Strength, Trust | 3 Comments »
Welcome to the new place!
Glad you found your way over.
I appreciate your patience while I get the rest of the furniture moved in and clean stuff up.
::
As I mentioned when you were leaving the old place, help me not look like such a ninny, and get the comment section filled up with something besides my name!
Thanks for coming!
2009/05/20 | Categories: Uncategorized | 6 Comments »
Gideon said to God, “If you will save Israel by my hand as you have promised- look, I will place a wool fleece on the threshing floor. If there is dew only on the fleece and all the ground is dry, then I will know that you will save Israel by my hand, as you said.” And that is what happened. Gideon rose early the next day; he squeezed the fleece and wrung out the dew—a bowlful of water.
Then Gideon said to God, “Do not be angry with me. Let me make just one more request. Allow me one more test with the fleece. This time make the fleece dry and the ground covered with dew.” That night God did so. Only the fleece was dry; all the ground was covered with dew. (Judges 6:36-40)
::
Gideon didn’t know if he was coming or if he was going.
He narrowly escaped a lynching after he messed with the worship props of a couple of false gods. And then his dad, either trying to save him or avoid having his son’s blood on his hands, all but asked Baal to strike him down.
If Baal turned out to be real, Gideon was in a world of hurt.
To make matters worse, the Midianites, the Amalekites and their friends from the east had crossed the river and camped out in the valley. He didn’t suppose it was for a Bob Dylan concert.
It would mean war.
::
He remembered the angel – blasted fellow that got him into this in the first place – had said that Gideon would strike down the Midianites and Amalekites together.
Looked like it was time.
God’s Spirit came on him, and he gathered His people for battle.
And then, as if on cue, Gideon asked for a sign.
Where have we heard that before?
Seems we’re so familiar with the fleece. Ever since childhood Sunday School. But by the time we even get to the fleece, Gideon has already flipped and flopped between belief and doubt so many times I got lost.
It feels a little like Groundhog Day to me, writing the same post over and over and over.
Gideon doubted. Gideon asked for a sign. Gideon believed.
Gideon doubted. Gideon asked for a sign. Gideon believed.
Gideon doubted. Gideon asked . . .
::
So here it is, the “stupid fleece test” as it’s been called here in the comments. (I apologize for the frequent use of the word “stupid” in this run. It’s really more directed at me than Gideon, since it seems to pop up most often when I see myself in him.)
Gideon asks the Lord to confirm His promise.
If in fact You will give our enemies over into our hands like You promised, just show me this one more thing. I’ll put a fleece on the threshing floor overnight.
You bring the dew. If it’s only on the fleece, and everywhere else is dry, then I’ll know. I’ll believe.
I’ll be sure it’s You and we’ll go kick some Midianite butt.
Always thinking spiritually practically, I was glad to see there was finally a use for the threshing floor.
::
Sure enough, morning came, the fleece was soaking wet, and the threshing floor was dry. To be sure it wasn’t his imagination, just a damp feeling on a cool morning, he squeezed the fleece.
Emptied out a full bowl of water..
The fleece was really wet.
The ground was really dry.
It was really God.
Let’s roll.
Let’s not.
Is Bill Murray around here somewhere?
::
Alarm goes off. We gotta get up in the morning and do it all over again.
He no sooner gets the sign when he questions the sign. He wasn’t so sure again. And who wants to go lead an army against the Amalekite horde when you and God got your wires crossed?
To Gideon’s credit, he knew this was getting old. He suspected God’s patience was wearing thin. Because when he asked for yet another sign, he apologized.
Don’t get mad. But maybe it was a fluke. Maybe the fleece was like a Sham-Wow and just soaked up all the humidity in the air. Maybe I reversed the signs. Maybe . . .
Can You do it the other way?
Can you make the ground wet and the fleece dry?
Just to be sure?
::
Times like this remind me that it’s so good I’m not God. I wouldn’t have allowed another test. I’d have sent Gideon packing back to his stupid little winepress to grind out some wheat. I’d have found somebody much more worthy of the task.
God did not.
As far as God was concerned, Gideon was the plan. He was it.
Gideon couldn’t outlast God’s patience and God was determined that he believe.
So He gave him yet another sign.
The fleece in reverse. Nothing to squeeze out.
Wet ground. Dry fleece.
Believing heart.
By the next morning, Gideon and his men were camped out and ready to fight.
::
And I am reminded again of the reality of God.
The truth of His Word.
The depth of His patience.
The magnitude of His call.
::
Then Gideon said to God, “Do not be angry with me. Let me make just one more request. Allow me one more test with the fleece. This time make the fleece dry and the ground covered with dew.” That night God did so. Only the fleece was dry; all the ground was covered with dew. (Judges 6:36-40)
Gideon didn’t know if he was coming or if he was going.
He narrowly escaped a lynching after he messed with the worship props of a couple of false gods. And then his dad, either trying to save him or avoid having his son’s blood on his hands, all but asked Baal to strike him down.
If Baal turned out to be real, Gideon was in a world of hurt.
To make matters worse, the Midianites, the Amalekites and their friends from the east had crossed the river and camped out in the valley. He didn’t suppose it was for a Bob Dylan concert.
It would mean war.
:: (more…)
2009/05/18 | Categories: Gideon, Uncategorized | Tags: belief, doubt, fleece, Gideon, Trust | 1 Comment »
The men of the town demanded of Joash, “Bring out your son. He must die, because he has broken down Baal’s altar and cut down the Asherah pole beside it.”
But Joash replied to the hostile crowd around him, “Are you going to plead Baal’s cause? Are you trying to save him? Whoever fights for him shall be put to death by morning! If Baal really is a god, he can defend himself when someone breaks down his altar.” So that day they called Gideon “Jerub-Baal, ” saying, “Let Baal contend with him,” because he broke down Baal’s altar. (Judges 6:30-32)
::
He was probably still wearing his street clothes when he slipped into bed that night. He’d stolen in through his bedroom window like a teenager sneaking in from a bonfire and keg.
He hoped the noise and smell of campfire wouldn’t wake his dad.
Pulling the blanket up over his head, he clamped his eyes down and tried to appear as though he’d been sleeping for hours.
He held back the urge to scratch his nose, wishing his eyelids would stop fluttering. Those things always gave away a faker.
His bones ached from the stillness when the sun started to stretch shadows across the room.
And then he heard them.
The men had come. They were storming around out in the yard.
Angry men.
::
His father rushed out without noticing Gideon’s pitiful attempt to feign sleep, anxious at what brought such a ruckus to his doorstep so early in the day.
Turns out they what they wanted was his son. They wanted Gideon.
Their altar was in ruins. Their Asherah pole burned up like kindling.
It was an outrage.
The investigation led to Gideon. Straight to the chicken heart buried under the covers in his bed. He pulled the blankets a little tighter.
Get him out here! He needs to die.
::
He knew it. He knew they were going to kill him. He’d told the angel that, but it didn’t seem to matter then. Stupid angel. Convinced him that God was really in this thing.
What had he been thinking, tearing down the altar?
God was not God. God was not real.
What was real was a whole bunch of guys on his front lawn. Armed, angry guys, mouths watering for his life. He held his breath, waiting for his dad to drag him out and feed him to the bloodthirsty crowd.
Just like he’d known all along would happen.
::
Crazy things kept happening here though. He strained to hear his dad through all the shouting.
Joash, who he was so sure would kill him with his own hand for razing his altar, spoke up for him. He was a fence-straddling false god lover himself, loyal to any old god that came into the neighborhood as long as he made a promise or two.
Yet he stepped right into it. He took these brutes on.
And took on their god.
::
Gideon’s father stopped them in their tracks. What kind of god did they worship that needed clowns like them to defend him?
If Baal was really all that, surely he could defend his own honor. He didn’t need a bunch of neighborhood thugs to mete out justice for him.
He was Baal, for heaven’s sake.
And this was Gideon. Gideon the mouse. If Baal couldn’t deal with Gideon himself, maybe he wasn’t worth fighting for in the first place.
So let Gideon contend with him.
Just let the two of them have it.
::
I went to bed last night on that thought, ready to get up this morning and tap out a few priceless lines about the whimpy gods that these guys felt the need to defend.
As I started to fade into the night, I thought I saw Gideon crawl out from the safety of his bedsheets and peek out the window. Cool way to work the wind down. I’d have to add that.
But as I looked out the window to see what he would have seen, the sight rattled me.
He would have seen me in that crowd of dorks in Joash’s yard.
And I didn’t look too good.
Jumping around with the rest, all bluster and sputter, trying to defend my stupid gods. Trying to make them seem appropriate. Trying to convince myself they are spiritual, and good, and of great value.
::
They aren’t.
They’re none of those things.
They’re gods. With little g’s.
All the bluster I can crank out won’t make them acceptable and pleasing.
Still working on tearing down those altars.
::
The men of the town demanded of Joash, “Bring out your son. He must die, because he has broken down Baal’s altar and cut down the Asherah pole beside it.”
But Joash replied to the hostile crowd around him, “Are you going to plead Baal’s cause? Are you trying to save him? Whoever fights for him shall be put to death by morning! If Baal really is a god, he can defend himself when someone breaks down his altar.” So that day they called Gideon “Jerub-Baal, ” saying, “Let Baal contend with him,” because he broke down Baal’s altar. (Judges 6:30-32)
He was probably still wearing his street clothes when he slipped into bed that night. He’d stolen through his bedroom window like a teenager sneaking in from a bonfire and keg.
He hoped the noise and smell of campfire wouldn’t wake his dad.
Pulling the blanket up over his head, he clamped his eyes down and tried to appear as though he’d been sleeping for hours.
Gideon held back the urge to scratch his nose, wishing his eyelids would stop fluttering. Those things always gave away a faker.
His bones ached from the stillness when the sun started to stretch shadows across the room.
And then he heard them.
The men had come. They were storming around out in the yard.
Angry men.
:: (more…)
2009/05/15 | Categories: Gideon | Tags: Gideon, Idolatry | 1 Comment »
Just down the road and to the east at Getting Down with Jesus, Jennifer tossed out a challenge to consider the question “Why We Blog” and post on it this week. (Unsolicited plug for Jennifer: Stop reading this and go read her today instead. You may wonder about me, but you’ll have no problem at all understanding why she blogs. Amazing God-seeking heart rushes out every time she uncaps her pen.)
The timing of her invitation is good for me.
I just passed the 200-entry mark (without a lot of fanfare, thanks, since I completely failed to notice).
The soon approaching expiration of my domain and hosting contract remind me that I’m nearing the end of a full year of writing out in the light of day.
And I’m in the process of moving A Different Story to a new home (at once frightening, painful and tedious — I’ll be whining about it in an upcoming post or two if I ever get Gideon out of my hair).
All of that makes it a very good time for me to reflect on Why.
::
In a word, I blog because of the grasshoppers.
Yes, grasshoppers.
About a year ago, I prayed and waited while a dear friend and coworker succumbed to all that we hate about human frailty and slipped away into her Father’s sweet embrace. Today, her workstation sits empty beside mine, reminding me daily not only of her absence, but of her passionate love for Jesus that used to bleed out everywhere she went in the office.
We mourned her loss. And we rejoiced that now she gets it. Now she feasts at the table with Him.
At the same time, I mentally pounded my chest for a while, selfishly feeling abandoned, wondering who would be here to remind me of why I work. Who would be here to tell me how Jesus would be lifted up? Who would help me remember that we don’t just adjust claims, but we advance the Kingdom?
Who would be here to do that when her cubicle stood hollow? When her phone rang unanswered?
::
When I pulled back and let God speak a while, He reminded me of the thing He’d put in me that I’d long since relegated to old tattered notebooks stacked in a closet.
If you write, you understand this already. Words can’t stay inside. They have to come out or they start on fire inside you.
So I’ve always written, because I can’t not write.
But I always quickly put it away for no one to see.
Because years ago I had walked away from the dream, a coward.
::
After Debbie went home, I spent a lot of time with God asking a lot of questions. One of them was how He wanted to use me. Because if Debbie taught me nothing else, she taught me that He had big plans for all of us. He had stuff He wanted us doing, day in and day out.
During one of those times, in my cubicle over my lunch hour, I read from Numbers.
I read of the scouts entering Canaan to check it out. I read of the cowards who returned with tales of terror and impossibility.
And that’s where the grasshoppers came in.
They told of grasshoppers, dwarfed by giants in the land God promised.
But I also read of Caleb who came back telling of wonders and delights in the land.
Caleb refused to be counted among the grasshoppers.
And I read that God called him a different story.
Because of his passionate faith and obedience.
And it all came together.
In a matter of moments, I had penned my first blog entry, purchased adifferentstory.net and determined to let God finally have His way with my writing.
::
Jennifer mentioned it sometimes seems a little risky and self-indulgent, this blogging thing. It’s both of those.
The cowardly grasshopper still rises up now and then. Why would I put myself out here like this? I still wonder, every time I hit Publish,
Who would want to read this stuff?
And too, almost a year later, I’ve found that beyond letting God do His thing and use it how He wants (sometimes in the most startling ways), I find some things that feel like they’re just for me. Maybe that’s self-indulgent. Maybe that’s God working.
Writing as I study helps me understand what God is saying better, and putting it out in the light helps keep me accountable to it. Blogging has permitted me to “meet” some wonderful folks who are working out their faith out there too.
And it’s helped me get a piece of the dream back.
The longer I do this, the more I believe that when we write, we become the people we truly long to be.
The ones God’s made us to be.
::
Just down the road and to the east at Getting Down with Jesus, Jennifer tossed out a challenge to consider the question “Why We Blog” and post on it this week. (Unsolicited plug for Jennifer: Stop reading this and go read her today instead. You may wonder about me, but you’ll have no problem at all understanding why she blogs. Amazing God-seeking heart rushes out every time she uncaps her pen.)
The timing of her invitation is good for me.
I just passed the 200-entry mark (without a lot of fanfare, thanks, since I completely failed to notice).
The soon approaching expiration of my domain and hosting contract remind me that I’m nearing the end of a full year of writing out in the light of day.
And I’m in the process of moving A Different Story to a new home (at once frightening, painful and tedious — I’ll be whining about it in an upcoming post or two if I ever get Gideon out of my hair).
All of that makes it a very good time for me to reflect on Why.
::
In a word, I blog because of the grasshoppers.
Yes, grasshoppers.
:: (more…)
2009/05/12 | Categories: Blogging | Tags: a different story, Blogging, Caleb | 1 Comment »
::
That same night the LORD said to him, “Take the second bull from your father’s herd, the one seven years old. Tear down your father’s altar to Baal and cut down the Asherah pole beside it. Then build a proper kind of altar to the LORD your God on the top of this height. Using the wood of the Asherah pole that you cut down, offer the second bull as a burnt offering.” (Judges 6:25-26)
::
If my kids and I were talking about Gideon, they might say something like this:
Dude! Seriously? God told Gideon to tear down the other god’s stuff and then chop it all up and use it for firewood?
Burn!
After I finished lecturing them about calling their mother Dude, I might notice how clever they were to say something like Burn! Not just because Gideon was going to burn the old idol stuff up and they think fire is cool, but because he was going to burn the old idol stuff up with his sacrifice to God.
::
Burn! is the best response ever to what Gideon is going to do. Spend a little time in the urban and slang dictionaries online and you’ll see. (Sorry, no links here. I won’t take responsibility for referring you to them and you reading bad words.)
You might hear Burn! after someone has just delivered a massive insult to another, not leaving even the slightest chance for a rebuttal.
For instance, when Westley called Humperdinck You miserable, vomitous mass, the prince stood still with his mouth hanging open.
Until he shut it because he had nothing to say.
Buttercup, standing by, could have said, Burn! It would have been perfect.
I digress.
::
Gideon the Chicken Hearted burns Baal and Ashtoreth.
Literally.
Figuratively.
All a perfect day’s work in my book.
God wants His people’s whole heart. And here among Gideon’s kin, that means two things have to happen. The fake gods must be destroyed. And the one true God must be worshipped.
When He gives the instruction He does, God sees that both are done simultaneously.
::
He’s really not interested in being one of our gods. He wasn’t all that into the Hebrews’ contingency planning. He’s not that into it when we do it either.
A little god over here, a little goddess over there.
A little money over here, a little job security over there.
A little power over here, a little influence over there.
A little perfect family over here, a little good image over there.
Between ‘em all, we figure we’ve covered all the bases.
Until we consider. The Lord your God is one.
Not one of many.
Just one.
::
Tearing down the fake god altar. Using the cheap counterfeit as firewood to burn a fragrant offering to the one true God.
He laid major smackdown on Baal and company.
Burn!
I can smile at God’s clever work here, but then I trip over how He might choose to tear down my altars and use my own idols for firewood.
Grin falls off as I tumble and tilt, trying to regain my footing and stick my landing.
I’m thinking it might be good if I tear those idols down myself. Before He has to.
Burn!
::
And you? How are your altars and idols stacking up these days?
Know what they are? Ready to let them burn?
::
That same night the LORD said to him, “Take the second bull from your father’s herd, the one seven years old. Tear down your father’s altar to Baal and cut down the Asherah pole beside it. Then build a proper kind of altar to the LORD your God on the top of this height. Using the wood of the Asherah pole that you cut down, offer the second bull as a burnt offering.” (Judges 6:25-26)
If my kids and I were talking about Gideon, they might say something like this:
Dude! Seriously? God told Gideon to tear down the other god’s stuff and then chop it all up and use it for firewood?
Burn!
After I finished lecturing them about calling their mother Dude, I might notice how clever they were to say something like Burn! Not just because Gideon was going to burn the old idol stuff up and they think fire is cool, but because he was going to burn the old idol stuff up with his sacrifice to God.
:: (more…)
2009/05/11 | Categories: Gideon | Tags: Gideon, Idolatry | 1 Comment »
So Gideon took ten of his servants and did as the Lord told him. But because he was afraid of his family and the men of the town, he did it at night rather than the daytime. (Judges 6:27)
::
Gideon is ready.
At last.
For at least the next ten minutes or so, he believes. It’s truly been God he’s been talking to.
He’s ready to roll.
God tells him what to do. Pretty simple, really. Just tear down the altar to Baal, cut down the Asherah pole, and build a “proper altar” to the Lord. (Nothing more on all that just yet – give me a day or two to come back.)
Sounds like good, godly instruction.
::
There’s a catch.
The altar belongs to his father. So does the bull he’s supposed to sacrifice on his new altar.
Lemme get this straight, God.
You want me to rip down my dad’s altar. The one where he gives Baal his due. And you want me to kill another one of my dad’s bulls.
Did you forget, God?
We don’t believe in you like we once did. We worship other gods now, just in case. You’re one of many to us.
We don’t tear down one god’s shrine to build an altar to another.
Listen. If I wreck my dad’s stuff, he’s gonna kill me.
Have you seen the guys in this town?
And Baal. He’s big. Ugly. And bad.
They’re all gonna kill me.
::
No, they’re not. Not really.
Jump back a couple of verses.
At that moment where Gideon first really saw God, the angel was quick to reassure.
Do not be afraid. You are not going to die.
Peace.
::
The Lord spoke peace to Gideon right before he sent him to bring violence against these false gods.
But despite the blessings of peace and assurance of living past the day, Gideon was afraid. So he set out to do the deed at night, hidden under the cover of darkness.
He was afraid of his family.
He was sure his dad would kill him for tearing up the place.
::
Do you see what is so important here?
Yes, his fear carried him into the dark to do God’s work. There’s something about waiting until nightfall because he was afraid that we just don’t like. We want him to stop being such a chicken. We want him to be bold. (Though his wanting cover is perhaps something to which we privately relate).
But that’s not the big deal. At least not the big deal that I see.
Here’s what we can’t miss:
He did as the Lord told him.
He tore it all down and built the proper altar to the Lord. He made his sacrifice.
He did it.
::
Wracked with doubt.
Trembling in fear.
He walked forward, and he did it.
He was a coward and a doubter. Still, he found a way to obey a God he was so unsure of.
Of God, he was uncertain. Of his family’s wrath he had no doubt.
He chose obscurity. But he also chose obedience.
And that helps me like Gideon a little bit more every day.
::
So Gideon took ten of his servants and did as the Lord told him. But because he was afraid of his family and the men of the town, he did it at night rather than the daytime. (Judges 6:27)
Gideon is ready.
At last.
For at least the next ten minutes or so, he believes. It’s truly been God he’s been talking to.
He’s ready to roll.
God tells him what to do. Pretty simple, really. Just tear down the altar to Baal, cut down the Asherah pole, and build a “proper altar” to the Lord. (Nothing more on all that just yet – give me a day or two to come back.)
Sounds like good, godly instruction.
:: (more…)
2009/05/08 | Categories: Gideon | Tags: Gideon, Obedience, Trust | Leave A Comment »
If you don’t know me beyond what you read here, you may have been hornswoggled into thinking I’m some sort of nice person with an occasional insightful thought. If that’s the case, and you don’t want that to change, you might not want to read on.
Long day at the office. I’m in the mood for a bit of a rant. It’s more than twice as long as it should be It’s not a particularly fine piece of writing. Laura, you might be happy to see the sarcasm come through. Jennifer, it’s a different kind of technicolor.
I’m irritated today. I’ll be back with Gideon by the end of the week.
You may know that by day I am a casualty claim adjuster. Yes, one of those people, as I often hear when I tell folks that. I handle claims for people who are injured or have their vehicles damaged in auto accidents, or when they slip and fall on other people’s property, or when stuff just happens to get wrecked or people get hurt for any number of sometimes bizarre reasons. Every day is a new adventure.
I do a pretty decent job of it, if I can say that. While the interactions I have with folks can often be adversarial by their very nature, I tend to get on pretty well. We can usually reach a mutually acceptable agreement on things without too much blood or tears.
But sometimes, it’s just not going to work out that way.
::
I’ve learned over the years that there are a few classes of people that are more challenging than others. The ones that I instinctively know will present some problems as soon as they are identified as such.
People who work in the insurance industry are toward the top of that list. Because they “know how things work.” Even when they don’t.
A son-in-law helping his mother-in-law is a little higher than that. It’s the moment he’s been waiting his whole married life for: to prove himself to his wife’s mother. He has a lot riding on the claim, and the more blood he can draw, the better.
And Christians. At least those who somehow in the course of a claim manage to intentionally identify themselves as such. I’m sorry to have to say that. But it’s true. There’s an occasional clunking sound in the office, that of my head dropping onto my desk at the moment a customer has found a way to point out that he is a Christian. (Disclaimer here. I’m positive I’ve dealt with some amazing people of God who have never told me. They’ve just shown me. It’s the name droppers I’m talking about.)
The only upside to these interactions is that it’s me dealing with them, and not one of my colleagues. I see it as damage control.
Body of Christ, we can behave badly.
And then spiritualize it.
::
I had a recent encounter with a fellow believer that I was actually looking forward to writing about one of these days. It started badly and ended beautifully.
Well, I thought it had ended. Beautifully.
The gentleman is a pastor who lives very modestly. Our insured caused an accident and unfortunately, his car was damaged beyond repair.
Totalled.
Settling a total loss on an older model vehicle in rough condition is difficult. In most cases, the amount the car is worth is not sufficient to purchase a replacement vehicle. That sounds unfair. I know. But what’s legally owed – thus what an insurance company will pay – is not what it will cost to buy another car but what the damaged car was worth before the crash.
This car was simply not worth much. And there aren’t many comparable vehicles available for sale.
::
We called local dealers for quotes and established a price. I made him an offer, permitting him to keep the car without taking a deduction to buy back the salvage, which we would normally be entitled to take.
He requested double what market said the car was worth, and I explained to him why I could not pay that amount. To his credit, he remained respectful and polite throughout.
At one point, he called with a proposal. The Lord had told him not to settle for any less than double what my offer had been. If we were unable to pay that amount, then he would simply withdraw his claim and move on. We would not hear from him again.
We discussed this for a while, as I couldn’t see the sense in him accepting no compensation if he couldn’t secure the compensation he sought. I told him that I understood that the wisdom of God was foolishness to men, but that even so, this didn’t seem prudent. (I don’t often have conversations like that in my job.)
He insisted on this ultimatum: pay me the amount I’ve asked for or pay me nothing. That’s what God is saying.
And then he ended the call.
::
We talk a lot in the claims world about good faith and bad faith. It seemed to me that I could have simply closed the file at that point and not paid him a dime. Those were his terms: pay my demand or pay nothing. It didn’t seem like the good faith thing to do.
So I cut a check for the amount I had offered and I wrote him a letter explaining that it didn’t seem I’d be acting in good faith when I had clearly documented damages and failed to pay them. At the same time, I didn’t want to pressure him into compromising what he believed God led him to do.
So it would be his call.
Cash the check, destroy the check or return the check. It was up to him.
::
Truthfully, at this point I was frustrated with the man. I felt manipulated. The essence of his proposal is that God told him what his claim was worth. So what does that say about me if I refuse to pay what God told him? Was I unfaithful? Was I disobedient? Even if God didn’t tell me the same?
He was kind, and gentle, and respectful, but it seemed he used his faith as blunt instrument over my head to force me to pay more than he was entitled to.
I wondered how one who didn’t know God would have responded. Would it have been a big joke? Would they have felt shamed and manipulated?
Would they have taken a few steps farther away from God?
Would the Kingdom look farther away? And more like someplace they didn’t want to be after all?
And then I remembered why I don’t like handling claims for self-proclaimed Christians.
Because, sometimes, they pull stunts like this.
::
Two days later, I had a call from the pastor. He had received my letter and wanted to apologize. He acknowledged that he had done exactly what I had supposed. He told me that he’d been prideful and haughty and that God had corrected him.
And he agreed to accept the check.
::
I was so humbled by this man when he called. I wished then that someone else had worked with him so they could see what happens when a believer blows it.
That we recognize it, own up to it, confess it and seek forgiveness.
People with claims can sometimes be jerks. They are in difficult circumstances, and that often brings out the worst in people. Even Christians.
But this fellow put down his pride and actually called to apologize.
I admired his humility and his courage.
And I thanked him for what he did.
::
I don’t admire him quite as much today.
Today I received his complaint via the state department of insurance.
He had called the other day to tell me the door fell off his car. It was a short, cordial conversation.
He said he just wanted me to know he’d lost his job.
I’m not unsympathetic to that. I’ll be losing mine soon.
It’s a bad deal.
It’s the part of my job that is perhaps most difficult. I can handle the conflict, the investigations, the analysis, the stress, the workload, the name calling, the nonsense.
But I have trouble when it comes down to not being able to meet people’s needs. I must make decisions based on contracts and laws.
And sometimes that makes my heart hurt.
My industry is one of fulfilling contracts, meeting obligations, paying entitlements.
It is not one of extending grace, offering mercy, meeting needs.
At least not in concrete, tangible ways that reach beyond legal obligation.
::
It didn’t bother me that he filed a complaint. Seriously. The file handling was proper. In fact, I paid out on a claim that had actually been withdrawn. He’s entitled to seek assistance from the insurance department. That’s what they are there for.
Complaints happen. Sometimes it’s because we’ve messed up and need to fix it, and sometimes we didn’t but folks just aren’t ok with the outcome. I can live with that. It’s a good check on the system.
What bothered me was the letter he sent to them.
His letterhead clearly identified him as “Reverend.” And in bold letters splashed the following from Malachi 4:6:
And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.
His letter wasn’t always coherent. But he made it clear that he found my actions, though within the law, to be unjust. He would pursue it to the “highest court of the land” in order to obtain satisfaction.
He closed with Micah 6:8:
He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?
He underlined mercy.
If I had a single “life verse,” Micah 6:8 might just be it.
::
It all kind of clashed together at that point.
One the one hand, I was frustrated that he made this huge display, whapping us on the head and making God’s Word into a both a bludgeon and punchline. When the first words of a letter suggest smiting with curses, it doesn’t set the most receptive tone.
But on the other hand, I was back to feeling manipulated. Like his confession and apology after he’d tried to force my hand before were just part of the game. Neither of those ploys worked – unfortunately that’s all they seem to be now — so he’d resorted to invoking courts and curses now.
If I had another hand I’d say that on the other hand, he worked his way into that part of my heart that is often so conflicted about my role at work. I know this guy is in a predicament. I know he has economic needs. I’d love to be able to do something more for him. But I have to pay what I owe. I’m spending somebody else’s money. Mercy is not often in the equation.
And on another hand I don’t have, I just don’t know what to do with it when Christians use their faith as leverage to get what they want.
I’m out of hands. Probably not out of issues.
::
Let me say this. We are to extend mercy. We are not to demand it of others.
Paul told Timothy that God’s Word is useful for many things. Look it up. 2 Timothy 3:16. It’s God-breathed and useful for teaching, correcting, rebuking and training in righteousness. He loves you to pieces, but He did not breathe life into His Word so that you could use it for leverage.
He did not include in that list that it is useful for threats and manipulation to get your way.
Acting like that does not draw others closer to the Kingdom. And it may well thwart the efforts of those who are actively seeking to minister to those you are thwacking on the head with your piously justified bad behavior.
I have some damage to undo in my office today. I need to remind some people that the Kingdom is still within their reach even though there are people who look like they love God and would like to rain down curses on them.
I know that I’ve said I would try not to tell you what to do here. I don’t have a name badge that says “Holy Spirit.” But I’m going to today. If you are doing stuff like this and using God and your faith and His Word to get your way in the marketplace, stop it.
Stop it right now.
I don’t want to get into a debate about whether or not Christians are supposed to roll over and play dead when they are being ripped off or exploited (or perceive that they are). First, that’s not what happened here. And second, it’s not the point.
There are available avenues for this gentleman to pursue his grievance. And he’s utilizing them.
But I could do without all the spiritual headbopping along the way.
::
If you don’t know me beyond what you read here, you may have been hornswoggled into thinking I’m some sort of nice person with an occasional insightful thought. If that’s the case, and you don’t want that to change, you might not want to read on.
Long day at the office. I’m in the mood for a bit of a rant. It’s more than twice as long as it should be It’s not a particularly fine piece of writing. Laura, you might be happy to see the sarcasm come through. Jennifer, it’s a different kind of technicolor.
I’m irritated today. I’ll be back with Gideon by the end of the week.
:: (more…)
2009/05/06 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: claims, Micah 6:8, Rants | Leave A Comment »
“Please do not go away until I come back and bring my offering and set it before you.”
And the Lord said, “I will wait until you return.” (Judges 6:18)
::
Gideon teetered.
He rode the seesaw up, then crashed down to the ground.
Believe. Doubt.
Accept. Refuse.
Regard. Deny.
Faith. Not quite sight.
::
With the plank faltering on the balance, at once teetering, now tottering, Gideon asks first for his sign, then for the angel’s patience.
Will you wait for me? Will you tarry to permit me to bring an offering?
Yes, of course. I will wait.
Gideon went home, killed an animal and did some baking.
When he asked the angel to wait, he wasn’t kidding. This was no “Hang on a sec, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He did not run in and pop a frozen dinner into the microwave. He didn’t reheat leftovers.
He slaughtered a goat.
He prepared fresh meat.
He baked bread.
All while the Lord waited.
::
Patient, the Lord was. He waited the better part of the day as I understand ancient cooking practices.
He waited while Gideon prepared to serve Him.
He waited while Gideon prepared an offering.
He waited while Gideon prepared for his sign.
He waited.
And when Gideon was ready, so was the Lord.
He brought his offering and set it before the angel. The angel accepted, then touched it with his rod. In a rush of wind and flame, the rock that held the offering ignited, and fire consumed the meat and the bread.
Gideon staggered.
I have seen the angel of the Lord face to face!
::
Teetering halted.
Wavering frozen.
Question turned to answer as Gideon realized.
The angel, you see, leapt up onto the open end of the seesaw, thrusting Gideon into flight, then disappeared himself into the air.
I have seen.
::
For this single moment, though dreadfully brief, faith did become sight, and Gideon’s belief stood still.
It wouldn’t last. The quest for just one more sign would continue.
But now? Now, in this instant, he held it.
For this blink of an eye, it was all his.
Above all else, he knew the Lord would still be there when he finally latched on.
::
“Please do not go away until I come back and bring my offering and set it before you.”
And the Lord said, “I will wait until you return.” (Judges 6:18)
Gideon teetered.
He rode the seesaw up, then crashed down to the ground.
Believe. Doubt.
Accept. Refuse.
Regard. Deny.
Faith. Not quite sight.
:: (more…)
2009/05/04 | Categories: Belief & Doubt, Gideon | Tags: belief, doubt, Gideon | 1 Comment »
Update: Thanks for the correction, Isaac. It’s great when your kids are old enough to read your blog. They catch all these mistakes us old folks make. Doggone young punks…
You can catch up on the rest of the Gideon posts here.
::
Gideon replied, “If now I have found favor in your eyes, give me a sign that it is really you talking to me.” (Judges 6:17)
::
They didn’t have shows like Punk’d! back in Gideon’s day. It was even before Candid Camera.
Wait. No tv.
No electricity.
In fact, not a lot of practical jokes recorded in Biblical history.
Yet Gideon suddenly seems to sense that he’s the butt of some colossal Old Testament stunt.
::
Just who does he think he’s been talking to?
We don’t see anything in the record about Gideon having any fun-loving prankster friends. And his enemies weren’t that sophisticated. The Midianites and Amalekites were more slash and burn than subtle types.
They wouldn’t waste time setting up a pitiful guy like Gideon for humiliating shenanigans.
::
So then what happened? Five minutes ago, Gideon accosted the angel, sure enough he was in God’s presence to blast His past performance.
Now he’s not quite sure this is really Him.
He needs proof.
He asks for a sign.
This soon becomes Gideon’s thing, asking for signs.
::
Gideon’s impulse is to believe this is God. His knee jerk is to accept without question.
But a funny thing happens when he starts to sop up what’s gone on. Doubt dribbles in. His mind floods, and he begins to wonder.
And worry.
Is it really You?
Can You prove it?
Are You just setting me up?
::
Stupid Gideon. He might just as well be me.
He believes. Until he thinks too hard about it.
His faith works. Until he starts to break it down.
What he can’t wrap his mind around, he cannot be sure is true.
He might just as well be me.
::
God puts in my heart to believe. He makes that my knee jerk too.
And I can plod along watching Him work, seeing Him move, and know without a doubt that it’s Him.
All Him.
And only Him.
And then I begin to break it down. I over think it. I push my heart out of the way and let reason take over. And then I wonder, and worry, if it’s really Him.
Why did I come out from behind the winepress?
Where are the cameras? What’s the joke?
Is it really You? Or is it monkeyshine?
Can You prove it?
::
Yeah.
Oh, yeah.
He can.
::
Update: Thanks for the correction, Isaac. It’s great when your kids are old enough to read your blog. They catch all these mistakes us old folks make. Doggone young punks…
Gideon replied, “If now I have found favor in your eyes, give me a sign that it is really you talking to me.” (Judges 6:17)
They didn’t have shows like Punk’d! back in Gideon’s day. It was even before Candid Camera.
Wait. No tv.
No electricity.
In fact, not a lot of practical jokes recorded in Biblical history.
Yet Gideon suddenly seems to sense that he’s the butt of some colossal Old Testament stunt.
:: (more…)
2009/05/01 | Categories: Belief & Doubt, Gideon | Tags: belief, doubt, Gideon | 1 Comment »
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