Duckabush Blog

Honoring an Expert Builder

I recently had the delightful privilege of attending the 25th anniversary celebration of Trinity Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Canton, Michigan. Pastored from its inception by my father-in-law, Reverend Bill Moore, the church was founded in 1979 and has enjoyed tremendous blessings from God of growth and ministry throughout the past quarter-century.

As a special treat for my wife's parents, the celebration committee flew my entire family in from Washington (all seven of us), housed us lavishly at a nearby hotel, and whisked us out from a storage closet at the proper moment in the program. It was a glorious surprise, especially considering how many people were "in the know" -- Kathy's parents were overjoyed.

The congregation was unstinting in their enthusiastic desire to heap honors on Pastor Moore and Cindy -- indeed, they presented them with a series of gifts and accolades that awoke a deep sense of "holy envy" in my heart. As I considered the ministry of that church over the past 25 years and all the spiritual "bricks" that built it, I was filled with a yearning that my life would be shown to have produced this kind of eternal fruit.

What are the bricks that make up a church? I'm not talking about the physical building, or even the individual members that exercise their spiritual gifts during a particular time slice in the life of a church. I'm referring to an N-dimensional church -- one that occupies the usual three physical dimensions to be sure, but that extends across time and a number of spiritual dimensions as well.

Imagine a church that is measured in "length" in Biblical teaching, perhaps in "width" in fellowship; "tall" in terms of evangelical outreach. Viewing the slideshow of pictures assembled from the last 25 years, I was struck, even stunned, by the large number of lives that have been dramatically changed by the ministry of this church. Marriages saved, relationships restored, griefs comforted, families bound together. Men and women, boys and girls have found meaning, freedom and purpose in an intimate relationship with their Creator.

I think that a church, at least a thriving church, has a distinct vision or driving purpose specific to that particular body of Christ. It will possess a continuous history and often a connection to a larger organization. It may have scars and blemishes. Some churches acquire a disfiguring handicap that can transcend a particular time or membership and stunts growth for generations. Others develop policy and procedural "muscles" that help it to remain vital and to avoid falling into error or apathy.

One of the tributes for Pastor Moore involved a skit along the lines of "what if Bill Moore had not been our pastor?" The parodied Pastor Howitzer and his "my-way-or-the-highway" organizational philosophy threw Bill's gentle style into sharp relief. Here Howitzer displays the organizational chart for his "Church of the Army of God":

A few minutes later, the spoof pastor has his secretary do pushups for failing to remember creamer in a cup of coffee -- it really helped me to reflect (by dramatic contrast) on the type of influence that this particular pastor has had on this particular church, through patience, peace and kindness.

I fear that if I were a pastor, I would tend toward the Howitzer model, particularly the camouflage vestments. This could be one among many reasons why God has not called me to be a pastor. :)

In his letter to the Corinthians, the apostle Paul writes:

"For we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building. By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as an expert builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should be careful how he builds. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If any man builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, his work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man's work."

In my mind's eye, I can picture Pastor Moore walking around the construction site with a set of plans, correcting a crooked wall here, arguing about windows with a foreman there, bringing cold soda-pop to a group of roofers in the hot sun, talking on the phone with material suppliers and generally overseeing the construction of God's church over the years.

I think of my own life, and the things that I have built and am building that have eternal value. How much hay and straw and wood am I using in my day-to-day activities, as I serve my church, raise my children, build my business? And where can I lay my hands on some gold, silver, or costly stones?

It seems evident that my father-in-law, along with many others, has built with gold, silver and costly stones. Trinity EPC is a vibrant church with a large number of members actively using their spiritual gifts in the ministry of the church. Truly it is an honor and a privilege to be a part of God's work and to see the result of our labors become so much larger than the sum of individual contributions.

Slug's prank

Dear readers --

What my dad doesn't know is, when I first saw him drink "tar" I thought, "wouldn't it be funny if he was allergic to that ground hay, also!" So one day when my friend F.D. (Fiendish Dog) came over he, my brother Slug, and I went out and collected pollen. When we had collected about two ounces of it we substituted it for his barley grass. I borowed his camera and took a picture of him while he drank it.

Apparently my dad can put two and two together; after he saw me with the camera, and Fiendish Dog's green-stained hands, he pretty much figured out what happened. This is what he looks like right now ... AAAAHHHH! HELLLLLPPPPP!!!

Desperate Measures

It is a sad thing to see a man brought to his knees by the trials and vicissitudes of life. In cases of extreme physical discomfort, even the most rational of men may set aside his education and experience, engaging in the most superstitious of rituals, hoping for some relief. I am ashamed to admit that I have fallen prey to such unscientific methodology, in the midst of allergy season.

I live in a forest, and I seem to be allergic to tree pollen. Rudely, the trees around here continue to pollinate each Spring, year after year, with no apparent concern for my troubles. A kindly neighbor has given me Green Magma Organic Dietary Supplement with Essential Nutrients, Active Enzymes, Antioxidants and Chlorophyll (ground hay), which I consume daily, much to the amusement of my children. As it is entirely unpalatable, I mix it with tomato juice:

Mixed, it closely resembles tar, or at least it no longer looks like tomato juice. Nevertheless, I drink it down faithfully, hoping against hope that my allergic reaction to tree pollen will somehow be diminished by um, er, consuming minced barley grass.

I suppose, even if eating hay does not help at all, it does not seem to do me any harm; I do try to resist the impulse to trot around the house neighing like a horse. Nobody seems to mind -- during allergy season my family has come to expect a lot of weird noises and even weirder behavior from me.

Spring!

While I hear of snow flurries in other parts of the world, we enjoyed sunshine and temperatures in the upper 60's (I even used the seventy word in one phone call boast). I happened to be out on the road on Saturday, and saw many trees just bursting forth in bloom, several captured here. God sure did a nice job creating this earth, didn't He?

Arguing with God

Last Sunday we continued our study of Rick Warren's book, The Purpose Driven Life. I was intrigued by a claim made by Warren (page 93, if you have the book):

"In the Bible, the friends of God were honest about their feelings, often complaining, second-guessing, accusing, and arguing with their Creator. God, however, didn't seem to be bothered by this frankness; in fact, he encouraged it."

Warren went on to give examples from the Old Testament, including Abraham's shrewd haggling over the destruction of Sodom, Job's forthright speech to God, and Moses argument with God in the aftermath of the golden calf fiasco.

I've got nothing against honesty. Indeed, if you can't be honest with God, you have serious issues in your understanding of His power and His goodness.

We all do a considerable amount of second-guessing of God, particularly when we don't know His will or understand His plan. And, given the examples Warren cites, I can't really find fault with some limited and respectful arguing with God, especially as we grapple with God's attributes, (like mercy and justice). I myself have dared to question God regarding His management of our church.

But I get a little uneasy with the idea of accusing God (wasn't that Satan's role, in Job?) and complaining (or murmuring) against God. This seems to be a quick way to acquire a non-stop, one-way ticket to 40 years' wandering in the wilderness. I wonder if we can become a little too enamoured with the idea of God as our best friend, and fall into error in understating God's role as our Lord?

As I considered the examples Warren listed, I flipped back to Exodus 32 and 33, reading some of the context of Moses' argument with God.

God was telling Moses to go on up to the promised land. He was graciously sending His angel ahead of them to keep His side of the covenant and deliver the land into their hands, even though they had broken their side of the covenant before the figurative ink was dry. (Read Exodus 32 -- it was like a newlywed jumping into an adulterous affair while still on the honeymoon -- a pretty sad story.) But God Himself would not go with them, as He said, "I might destroy you if I go with you even a single step." (Tim's paraphrase.)

On the surface, Moses seems to be asking God not to remove the validation of His Presence, perhaps out of fear that his position as leader would be vulnerable without God to back him up. But a closer reading of chapter 33 helps to clear that up; it reveals something very obvious and yet profound:

Moses was arguing for God Himself -- he wouldn't settle for God's gift (the promised land) but wanted God's actual presence. He correctly recognized that God's gift was worthless when compared to God Himself. "If you won't go with us, we don't want to go!" Moses told God. (Another Tim paraphrase -- I'm just not in Eugene Peterson's league, I guess.)

I think that this is why God allows us to argue with Him -- He wants to bring us up to the next level of faith by revealing Himself through a dialogue. In each of the examples Warren cites, the parties involved learned more about the character of God, and adjusted their faith accordingly.

There are plenty who chase after God's gifts. The "Health and Wealth Gospel" folks would have you believe that God wants you to be rich, and your appropriate faith response is to enjoy those riches (after tithing, of course). The Prophecy types are eager to acquire the secret knowledge of God with regard to future events, although I've never been clear exactly why. Many Christians put their faith in God as fire insurance, correctly reasoning that there are no other options.

My understanding, however, is that God desires fellowship and friendship with us -- He wants us to want Him, not His gifts. Like a parent, sometimes He lavishes gifts on us, and other times He withholds things that would harm us -- but always, He desires a deeper and more satisfying relationship with us.

I've been unemployed and self-employed for a long time now, and one of the things I desire most of all from God is a steady source of earned income. Yet God continues to deny that to me. Perhaps He is teaching me to want Him, not His gift.

The Passion

Photo courtesy of Aztlan Communications Network

Under a certain amount of duress, I drove with Kathy to Tacoma to see The Passion today, while my Mom watched the kids. Receiving free tickets, and even being chauffered to the movie theater by my Dad, it was all accomplished with very little inconvenience or pain to me. Except, perhaps, the pain of watching.

Don't get me wrong. I thought the movie was very well done, extremely effective and reasonably true to the Biblical accounts of the Gospels. I found the scriptural quotations to be well-chosen and believe the overall presentation was closely representative of the actual event. But it was a difficult and draining experience to view the portrayal of Jesus' agony up to the moment of his death, in such graphic detail.

I'm glad that I went, for some values of 'glad'.

(This is a programmer joke -- 2+2=5 for some values of 2 and 5. Admittedly, not a very funny joke, but, hey, I'm a programmer, not a comedian.)

What I mean is that I felt responsible to see the movie and I'm proud that I went through with it, but it did not, technically, make me 'glad'. I went to see it because I think for the next month or two it will be one of the most effective ways to engage a non-believer in a discussion about Jesus; indeed, I tried it out on a WalMart checkout clerk on the way home and found the conversation to be very easy and natural.

My wife says that I am too negative in this posting and that I fail to inspire my potential reader to rush out and see The Passion. Perhaps so. Frankly, to quote an obscure line from "Knight's Tale", going to this movie is "something each man must decide for himself." I will probably not allow my children to see this movie, but I would encourage my brother to do so, if he hasn't already. If you love God, seeing this movie will probably deepen your understanding of the sacrifice that Jesus made as He died in your place. If you don't love God, and you reject His Son, then going to this movie may not help you particularly, unless the Holy Spirit uses it to touch your heart and change your mind.

I was very moved by the scene in which Mary manages to connect with Jesus as he makes his way along the Via Dolorosa. Rather than speak of his suffering, or even express his love for her, the actor playing Jesus says, "See, I am making all things new!" (As far as I know, Jesus does not actually say this until quoted in Revelation 21:5.) Gibson communicates Jesus' sense of purpose and submission to God's plan very accurately, using flashback scenes to carefully underscore the fact that Jesus gave up His life; it was not taken from Him. Even as His mangled body is crushed beneath the weight of the cross, Jesus' unswerving commitment to fulfilling the will of the Father blazes forth in this majestic moment.

There was nothing in the movie that surprised me, particularly, except a few 'jump' scenes (as when Jesus stomps on the snake's head or when a Roman soldier knocks an offered cup of water out of a woman's hand). I've seen the Puyallup Passion Play several times, where considerable effort is made to realistically portray the beating and crucifixion of Jesus. And of course I've studied all four of the gospels fairly carefully and read a number of commentaries that explain various cultural customs and practices more clearly.

I was impressed by the way that Gibson used Satan to actually present the essence of the Gospel, in the opening scenes of the film. Satan, trying to discourage Jesus, tries to tell him that there is no way one man can bear the sin of all people. Through this backhanded device, the viewer can clearly understand that Jesus' intent is to bear the sin of all men in His own body, according to the will of God the Father.

There was, perhaps, a bit more reverence of Mary than seems appropriate to me, but from a Catholic perspective, it was fairly restrained.

I strongly identified with the thief on the cross who asks Jesus to remember him, when he comes into his kingdom; the power of God never ceases to amaze me as revealed in that scene. In the midst of the darkest moment of all of Creation, as the Son of God, King of Kings and Lord of Lords is being brutally tortured to death by His own rebellious creatures, God reaches out and uses that opportunity to snatch a soul from Satan's grasp.

Truly, he makes all things new.

Elk Rocket Scientist

It is said by some local hunters that, in order to shoot an elk, you have to outdumb them -- trying to outsmart them will leave you sitting alone with a blank elk tag. Personally, I have a lot of experience in chasing them around with a camera, and I can attest that they have a unreasoning prejudice against people pointing things at them.

I was out yesterday helping a customer with a virus problem; as I returned home, I noticed a half-herd of elk grazing in the clearing that will, we trust, soon contain the Retreat Center. They glanced indifferently at my car as I hurtled past; lifting their heads briefly, they soon returned to the serious business of nibbling Mom's flowers and fruit trees.

I determined to get a close-up picture -- not owning a telefoto lens, I routinely fail to capture wildlife with my digital camera. As I stepped out onto my deck, I was pleased to note the sound of a helicopter nearby -- although I am careful to move quietly, and am widely known to be dainty in size, the elk usually (for some unknown reason) hear me coming.

Unfazed by cars and helicopters, the herd perked up their heads and began trotting away as soon as I descended to the ground. Gnashing my teeth, I snapped a few halfhearted pictures but was mostly treated to the uninspiring sight of 40 elk bottoms.

Elk, unlike me, are not particularly dainty. When pursued, they cause substantial destruction among the local flora; I soon abandoned the chase in hopes of preserving what grass may remain down by the pond.

About an hour later, a neighbor called to warn that the herd, having been reinforced and now 80-strong, was heading back through our property. Hope springs eternal in the heart of an amateur photographer, so I sidled out onto my front deck to try once more. Again, most of the elk quickly reacted to the dire threat of my camera, and harumphed and galumphed gracelessly into the underbrush where they glared at me from under lowered brows. (Actually, I'm not sure elk have eyebrows, but they definitely managed to glower.) Just as I was about to give up, a particularly feckless elk doe walked around the corner of my house and provided me with this picture. She may have been the victim of a practical joke, elk lodge hazing, or perhaps even a triple-dog-dare. As you can see, she was startled by my presence but too dumb to run away.

I suppose if I was an elk hunter, I would wait comfortably at home and shoot the first elk that rang my doorbell, except that they would probably eat the doorbell instead of ringing it. There is the additional drawback that I don't have a doorbell.

The First Flower of 2004

Spring is almost here! The trees are budding, and the flowers are starting to bloom -- here is the first flower that I have seen growing outside this year. I think it is some kind of a violet -- if you know its actual name, please post a comment.

Duckabush Death March

One early March day dawned bright and clear, the morning sky washed that deep shade of cornflower blue that only comes after a good rain, or so my wife told me.
"Could you please pipe down, and pull the blinds closed a little tighter?" I mumbled into my pillow.

The shrieks of my children preventing me from resuming my slumber, I rose to greet the day, albeit in a surly manner. After a desultory attempt at work, I was forced to acknowledge that this day must be spent outside. I summoned my two oldest sons, Slug and Weasel, to my office, pointing imperiously for them to sit at my feet.

"Something wrong with your finger, Pops?" snickered Weasel as he slouched against my desk, kicking his leg aimlessly at my computer's reset button.

"We must seize the day and hike to the Ranger Hole!" I trumpeted. "But first, I will tell you a story of the road marches we had when I was in the Army."

My sons concealed their pleasure by rolling their eyes and holding their stomachs, groaning. "Seriously, Dad," whined Slug, "Can't we just hike to the Hole and pretend we listened to your stories?"

Two stories and four hours later, we climbed into my trusty bronze car and careened up the valley to the trailhead. "The problem with kids today is that they don't have any stamina," I warned. "You two watch me carefully and you'll see how a real hiker handles a trail."

"Can we get going yet, Pops?" Weasel droned. "How many times are you gonna lace up your shoes?"

We set off at a brisk pace; I wanted to see how quickly these soft youngsters would fall to the wayside. Just as I expected, they were soon both out of sight.

"How long do you want us to wait for you?" shouted Slug from the top of a small mountain.

"Slow and steady wins the race," I wheezed.
"I don't know about slow, but you don't look any too steady."
Weasel always did have a sharp tongue.

Their boundless energy was beginning to discourage me, as I puffed up an incline that rivaled the North Face of the Eiger. I motioned for the boys to halt, and after five or ten minutes, caught my breath. "Say, I just remembered that I left my camera in the car -- why don't you two run back and get it." Craftily, I hung the camera across my back where they wouldn't see it until they returned, when I could apologetically 'discover' it. Lacking my years of hiking experience, they both fell for this ancient ruse.

"You sure didn't get very far," griped Slug, returning. "The car is locked, and you forgot to give us the keys." He didn't even seem out of breath, so I gave him the keys without even a twinge of conscience. A kid like that needs more exercise, I've always thought.

In what seemed only moments, he and Weasel had returned, resuming their disrespectful practice of prodding me forward. "Ha ha ha, that was some joke, eh?" I laughed nervously. "I had the camera all the time."
"Very funny, Pops -- nearly as funny as the time you had me and Slug search the beach for your Palm Pilot, until we remembered that you don't own one!" Weasel chortled, poking me expertly in the small of the back with his walking stick.

Finally we reached the river, where I passed the time entertaining fantasies of pushing both of them into the glacier-fed waters. It fell to me, as their father, to provide these impressionable young boys with an example of maturity and good sense. This was a bit of a problem, since I had managed to grow to adulthood without acquiring either.

Slug seemed to respect and understand this, as he retrieved his hat from the patch of stinging nettles where I had thrown it. "You sure are a scalawag," he guffawed, tossing my wallet into the bottom of a ravine.

The trip back to the car was even worse, if possible. Weasel amused himself by running laps around me, loudly keeping count. Slug jogged ahead, ostentatiously taking naps whenever he found a comfortable bed of pine needles. I found their vulgar display of physical prowress very distasteful, and said so:
"I find your vulgar display of physical prowress very distasteful."

As I sagged into the driver's seat of my little bronze car, muscles aching and gasping for breath, I took the only revenge possible:
"There I was in the woods. The rain was pouring down, and my M-16 was slung across my back. Suddenly, the Sergeant-Major popped out from behind a tree. 'Gimme 20 pushups', he roared ... "

This posting made in honor of Pat McManus, author of many hilarious short stories.

Homeschool Recess

Two years ago my Dad convinced me to build a deck. Craftily, my wife became involved during the planning stages and doubled pretty much all the dimensions of the deck. In spite of labor shortages (I only use volunteer labor, to avoid exploitation of salaried workers) the deck was mostly finished last summer and now wraps around half of my house. We get a lot of use out of it -- it stays much drier and cleaner than the gravel and mud which it now conceals. Here is Daniel enjoying some early Spring sunshine during recess.

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

Today started out rather dreary, so I decided to post a picture with a little sunshine. For some reason, my children (Sarah especially) like to scrunch up their faces whenever their picture is taken.

Each morning of this week, Kathy has taken the older three kids over to the cottage to do their schoolwork in relative peace. I walk over early to get the wood stove started, and they frequently amble over as a group to meet me or wait until I get back. Sarah and David like to be part of things; this picture was taken on the way back home.

So far it is working well for everyone -- I am getting up earlier than I usually do, which pleases Kathy and helps me to get more work done before noon. Since I read my Bible and pray while I'm waiting for the stove to get going, it is helping me to be more regular in that discipline, as well. Kathy seems more cheerful; getting school DONE rather than dragging it out over the course of the day seems to help her a lot. Strangely, a win/win situation.

Loyalty Days

In a month or so we will be celebrating "Loyalty Days" here in Brinnon -- a local festival involving a parade (quite a sight in this rural village) and a short presentation, a few speeches by local politicians, and a patriotic theme.

I was reading a book today by Tom Clancy, in which a side character (who is soon after killed-off) describes the protagonist, a businessman: "[He] is a great man, and I would lay down my life to protect him." Frankly, the book wasn't very good, but it made me think about the people for whom I would lay down my life: a fairly short list.

We live in a cynical world that teaches loyalty to self as the supreme virtue. This is not a new idea. Polonius admonishes Laertes in Hamlet:

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

I don't think I buy it.

Most people subscribe to the idea (if not the practice) of loyalty to family and close friends, while others are able to drum up loyalty to a larger organization, people group, or even nation.

For some reason, loyalty is one of those words that sends a zing up my spine ... it has weight and substance in the matters of my heart. Ask me what I hope for most of all in a friend? Loyalty. What hurts me most in a relationship? Faithlessness or betrayal.

Some people mock this virtue. "Dogs are loyal", they say, with a smirk. It is a pseudo-virtue often attributed (at least in fiction) to a person too dumb to think for themselves. Even villains in action movies have 'loyal' henchmen, who frequently die because of misplaced loyalty to their leader.

So what is loyalty? It involves trust, and dedication, and a fixed positive faith. A loyal spouse will not permit her husband to be slandered, a loyal friend will not believe ill of his comrade without strong evidence. Perhaps loyalty is a kind of love ... a love that says, "You and I, we have a bond that is exclusive and separate from these others." But the best kind of loyalty goes beyond that -- it is an active, informed, intelligent desire to protect and seek the best for that person, perhaps even at the cost of the relationship.

Loyalty is rare, in my experience, and is therefore very precious, according to the laws of supply and demand. Sometimes the only person who can intervene in a crisis is someone with unquestioned loyalty -- in such cases they can be the only ones who have the 'ticket' or credibility to confront, rebuke or advise.

How do I go about surrounding myself with loyal people? Here are a few ideas, off the top of my head:

1) Become very rich, famous, or influential.

Hmmm. How will I know if my friends are loyal to me or to my money, prestige, power, or connections? I would imagine that question keeps more than a few rich, famous and influential people awake, nights.

2) Pursue a grand and noble cause.

Nope. While I might rub shoulders with the best of people, there seems no guarantee that such idealists will become personally loyal to me. Indeed, if we disagree on how to implement our grand and noble cause, I might find myself trampled, discarded or destroyed.

3) Be loyal to others.

This, at least, is potentially achievable; my example may serve as a model for others, who might spend some of their loyalty on me. No guarantees here either, but there is at least a glimmer of hope.

So how do I show loyalty?

1) No gossiping. A loyal friend never gossips.
2) Be faithful. A loyal friend keeps his promises.
3) Tell the truth. Loyalty doesn't allow for deception.
4) Seek the best. A true brother looks out for the interests of his friend; he protects, guards, preserves, even challenges.
5) Forgive. Loyalty overlooks offense and forgives insult.

Jesus said, "Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before men, I will disown him before my Father in heaven." Matthew 10:32-33

I've never really understood these verses -- I'm unsure if Jesus is speaking of salvation or some kind of a reward; but I'm pretty sure I don't want to be disowned before the Father, either way. I guess one conclusion I can reach is that loyalty, like love itself, must be grounded and connected to Jesus the Christ, and can only be properly and truly achieved to the extent that it is practiced toward Him.

Indeed, if I am ultimately loyal to my Lord and my King, I will express that loyalty in love and kindness to the people He loves, which is, according to John 3:16, all people.

A tall order.

Censorship

Big Brother is watching!!

And editing these posts--beware all who dare to write.

KME (maybe)

To Blog or Not to Blog

That is the Question. But I don't have the answer. I Blog because I must. You Blog because you are a "bucko." Tonight the blogging is a bit daft but then perhaps this is just a draft and we are all safe from my beginning blogging.

KME

The Muffin

This is, as we call her, the muffin. When you are short, you tend to have to look up a lot.