bridge diving?

Last week I saw a man jump off a bridge . . . .in fact I videoed the whole thing with my digital camera! No he was not trying to commit suicide, nor was he totally out of his head. In fact he was just doing his everyday normal go-to-work routine, because diving off the bridge is how he makes his living. I know, this does not sound like a legitimate job, but in the former Yugoslavia, you gotta make a living any way you can.

If you click this link, it will take you directly to the video, for some reason Jake and I could never figure out how to embed it in this blog. http://homepage.mac.com/daderholdt/iMovieTheater6.html

There are many ways to live out our existence here on this planet, but this has to be one of the most unique one's I have ever seen. No great spiritual lessons or anything like that today, I will post a "heavy" tomorrow. Today I am just enjoying a guy who jumps off bridges for a living. In contrast, my work is down right boring. Till tomorrow.

I am going to die soon!

That was the word from my 13 year old daughter. Then my oldest daughter pipes up, "yeah my days are numbered too." They were being pretty serious. We were discussing the first command in the bible with a promise, that one should honor their father and mother. What is so fascinating about this conversation is that my kids do honor us; they actually even like us! They tell us that this is not the case often with their peers. Interestingly enough I felt the same way that my daughters do when I was their age. I guess it is always easier to see where you fail rather than where you succeed.

Here is a photo of the two of them together!


What is it about how we see ourselves and our actions that is often super critical? Then at other key moments in life it is as it we can’t see ourselves accurately at all! To know thyself seems to be a significant challenge that takes an entire lifetime . . . or at least I haven’t completely got a total grip on me yet. I just need to make sure I keep as a filter, that I am a child of the living God, and I think I do. But that filter seems to have two effects, one is that it reminds me constantly that I no mere mortal locked into an existence of 75 years. Two though, is that my Father is so high and far beyond me that I cannot measure up. Even the fact that He knows this and forgives me already does not help my feelings of unworthiness.

It seems that the power of sin is in its secret life. And as Ray Anderson points out the church is often an accomplice in this secret by affirming only those who appear to be righteous. Let’s face it, the very very last place on earth that a struggling Christian can confess that struggle is with brothers and sisters in the church. The problem is this, we all struggle at some level. So today I confess, to whomever may read my words, I struggle. There I said it. No super Christians here.

I should have bought a lottery ticket

There would have been a very very high chance of winning. Much better than the statistics of what happened this morning. Heidi is on her way to an MK re-entry seminar in California, and soon I will be on my way to settle her in for college. Unfortunately for both of us, our beginning ticket is with a highly irregular carrier known as Cirrus Airlines. Mind you, they were not all that irregular when we bought the tickets months and months ago. In fact I have successfully flown with them about a dozen times. But now, they generally leave 3-6 hours LATE everyday,(when they do not cancel the flight entirely), causing virtually everyone to miss their connections to somewhere else in the world from Frankfurt.

So being the careful planners that we are as Westerners, and not wanting my college freshman daughter to be stuck in Frankfurt for 24 hours in the airport, we went and had some talks with Cirrus and Lufthansa on Friday and got Heidi switched to a day later flight out of Frankfurt, with Lufthansa picking up the tab for a hotel for her to overnight., because everyone agreed, there was no way that she was going to make her connection in Frankfurt . . . yet . . . the flight left on time.

I should have bought a lottery ticket. The chances were greater that I would win a million Euros, than that this flight would leave on time. Both Cirrus and Lufthansa agreed . . . they gave Heidi a new day to fly and a hotel room without a whimper, because there was no chance in heaven or hades that this flight would leave in time for her to make her connection . . . yet it did. Only the second time in 34 days that it left on time, but it did.

Who would have thought? Now I do not know if she is in the hotel in Frankfurt, or if she is actually on the plane to LAX. Hopefully I will hear something later today and know, but as of right at this moment, I have no idea.

Not many things are dependable in this world, the airlines least of all. At least God doesn’t change His mind, character or promises. That we can hold on to with a firm grip. But I still should have bought a lottery ticket . . . it would have been a large boost to the GCF.

minarets and independence day

Today Heidi and I climbed to the top of a minaret on the Muslim side of the city. The mosque was beautiful and peaceful. Although this was true, the climb up into the minaret was difficult. It of course had a circular staircase (no elevator) that went on for what seemed like forever. My legs were pumping with blood by the time I got to the top.

Here is a photo I took from the top of the minaret.


The most interesting thing on top of the minaret was the huge loudspeaker, which calls the faithful to prayer five times a day. Yesterday was Independence day. There is not much independence in the Muslim faith it seems, and at the same time too much in the Christian faith. Islam seems to control every aspect of a "good" Muslim's life. But according to the statistics that I have seen, the church and the those outside of the church, have the same exact challenges. I wonder why Christianity has evolved into a Faith that allows one to do almost anything in the name of freedom? I wonder why we are just amazed that Muslims pray five times a day; don't you? And many days far more than five times a day.

Our independence from rules and regulations is a great gift from God, but it is to allow us more of everything with Him, not less with Him. I need to remember that everyday.

stuck in a beautiful place right?

We were driving through a most beautiful place. We were amazed at how green the water was. There are few places in the world which have such green rivers. And then it happened, we came into a line of standstill traffic that stretched as far as the eye could see. And if you have to be stuck somewhere in the world, at least be stuck in a beautiful place, or perhaps it would be better to say, you should find beauty wherever you find yourself stuck?



Life is too short to be stuck somewhere ugly in life. This applies to every kind of stuck, in life. Regardless if you are stuck in a job you can't stand. Regardless if you are caught in a relationship you cannot abide. Regardless if you are stuck in an impossible situation, you had better find some beauty there, or you are gonna crash and burn. I know, I have been stuck in some of those kinds of places.

Now where I am typing this blog from is just naturally breathtaking. Unfortunately it seems few places in life where you get stuck are like this. Most of the time, even the word stuck implies ugliness. But you have got to find some beauty or your soul will crumble. You will find that which makes you you will begin to shrivel. Paul says in Philippians 4:12 that he learned the secret of being content. Contenment is a big subject, but at least one aspect for me is finding beauty wherever I get stuck in life.

flattered, fleeced and fished

Yes this happens most every week. It happens when you are the rich person in a poor society. People are always angling for your perceived resources. They flatter you hoping for some money to fall out of your pocket. They will fleece you mercilessly at the first possible opportunity. They will constantly fish you, trying to find out what you have and how accessible it might be. My great question is how to be a prudent generous person?

Prudence is required because money is power and power is generally a weapon. Yet generosity is a natural result of thankfulness and a healthy spiritual life. I am always wondering how the two mesh in any way. "You cannot have power for good without having power for evil. "Even mother's milk nourishes murderers as well as heros." - Bernard Shaw, Major Barbara

Most of the time, I just feel resentment that I am being FFFed rather than thankfulness that I have enough to be the recipient of such behavior. What a sad tale that reveals about the true condition of my heart. "In an ego-centered culture, wants become needs (maybe even duties), and self replaces the soul, and human life degenerates into the clamor of competing autobiographies." - Cornelius Plantinga. Madeleine L'Engle suggests that the very meaning of the word integrity is slowly starting to mean self-centeredness. In other words, half the time when someone suggests that they cannot do such and such and "keep their integrity" what they truly mean is that simply do not want to do whatever is under discussion.

These are deeper waters than I usually travel, but I think Plantinga and L'Engle have hit my nail on the head . . . I cannot be generous because I have spiritualized both the condition of my wallet, and the needs of the person asking, so that in the end, I feel fully justified in sending them on their way. That is no thankful heart.

rest, relaxing and revving up

am practicing at resting. It is not something I do well. I do not know how to stop working. I do not know how disconnect and quit at the end of the day. I do not know how to rest. Thus I am practicing. I am practicing at having a whole day where I do not work at all, not one tiny bit . . . we are sharing an American holiday with friends in Mostar Bosnia. Not working is surely hard work!

This shows that I am far far too task oriented and that I take myself and my work way to seriously. I need to lighten up and have more fun. But what if work is fun? How is that different than fun fun? And what exactly is fun anyways?

Is fun being frivolous? Is fun being silly? Is fun being distracted? Perhaps fun is that which brings mindless feelings of happiness? Maybe fun is that which you want to do rather than what you have to do? Perhaps fun is just a tempo change in life? Fun might be that which requires no effort or no thought? Frankly I don't know. But everyone tells me I need to have more, so I am practicing at resting . . . at having fun. Maybe I will run another marathon.

A cross in the forehead

Not only did the ancient crone have a small Cross tattooed into her forehead right above the eyebrows and running down into the nose, she also had her mother's name tattooed onto her left wrist, and her father's name tattooed onto her right wrists. She was 90 if she was day, maybe more, honestly. And the story behind the tattoos was amazing.

She is the only person we have met here in the former Yugoslavia who was born in the era of the Ottoman Empire. And it seems the Turks had a penchant for taking young children away and whisking them off to Turkey. The way that one people group here began to combat the child-taking was by tattooing the Cross into their foreheads and the names of the parents on each arm. That way the parents and the child would forever know to whom the child genuinely belonged. And to this day, this ancient Vloch woman clearly has a cross tattooed into the middle of her forehead.

I think perhaps we should start this tradition once again . . . in the church . . . where we who say we are Jehovah's children would make the strongest declaration of that fact, a Cross tattooed into our foreheads, and several names of God tattooed onto each wrist. Isn't that the kind of declaration of possession, faith and commitment He is longing for from us? Isn't that the type of irreversible binder we should place on our lives? Why wouldn't we do that? Oh . . . the answer to that question is all too revealing.

how much would you pay?

I wonder how much you might be willing to pay to see you daughter graduate from High School? I mean let's face, most of you drive down to the local high school and see your kid graduate, right? I only wish!

For us, we have been apart from her for the majority of her 12 years of school. You see her basically for 3 months out of each year. You have parented from afar. Cheered her on via email. Called her on the phone at $3 a minute when she was in 2nd grade. Made yearly costly trips to Germany to see her and encourage her. You have have done all of these, yet you cannot afford any of this. It's more painful than words can express to be apart. But she is worth every cent!

Finally grade 12 comes, as well as senior trip, AP English trip, Junior Senior Banquet, Graduation trip, all part of the wonderful advantages of going to school in Europe, all expensive. I am talking your language here, you are paying or have paid the same for your kids. They are completely worth it. You do not resent a nickel.

You have seen them grow and change and slowly but surely turn into young adults along the way. Now in 8 days, she will be heading off to college. It is hard to comprehend how my little girl became this young woman.

But to see her graduate, how much would pay? How far would you travel? What effort would you put forth? Just to see her graduate, how much? $200? $400? $1000? Just to see her graduate? Try $1400 . . . we did . . . and it was worth every penny. And I will do it again for Jake and again for Helen, and I am sure it will be worth every penny again and again. Plus we drove 4000 kilometers . . . and we will do it again and again. I just feel sorry for those who live even farther away like the Russia and Turkey teams. But how much would you pay?

accents

What is in an accent? I have one, and so does everyone else. It's just that mine is played out a little differently than most peoples. In Russia, folks generally pegged me as a Bulgarian trying to speak Russian. When in Bulgaria speaking Macedonian, they think I am a Russian trying to speak Bulgarian. Are you laughing yet? And when in Macedonia speaking Macedonia, they know I am not from Macedonia, but yet they do not know were I am from . . . and so I play a game.

When they ask me where I am from, I take the question in it's most concrete possible form and tell them that I live in Skopje, in the neighborhood known as Taftalige. "No where are you from" comes the next question. And I continue to play, "well we have lived all over, and ethnically I am German." as I continue to dodge the question they are really asking, which is "where were you born?"

Now if you spoke to me on the phone like Beth Knight-Pinneo did recently, like her, you would immediately know that I was born in the Southern USA, somewhere deep in the South. You can't shake those accents. And I have been honing mine down for years! Back home I am accused of being a "yankee" and in the Northeast I am called a "reb" or worse yet, "bubba". A couple of weeks ago I called the college in Rome GA where Heidi will be attending in the Fall to talk withone someone there, and I started laughing because of how strong her accent was . . . and she thought I was laughing because she did not think she had an accent after 3 years in Southern CA! In general, you can't get rid of your accent completely without professional diction lessons, or a voice coach.

This game of "where are you from" is extremely frustrating, because it is a daily reminder that I am instantly identifiable as a foreigner here because my speech patterns. That is just so very old and irritating. But I hope that I am also as instantly identifiable as a person of Faith, because I have the accent of Christ. Now that rocks.

Fog

It's like being in another dimension. Little makes sense. I am not joking. The grandmothers at the river this morning were taking off their tops and riding their bicycles in their bras, and one was even pulling their granddaughter (I assume) behind the bike on her rollerblades! Grandpas had taken off their pants and were walking along the river in their tidy whitys and boxers. I asked one of the other standard earlier-morning bikers what was going on? She had no idea, but she did say that grandparents walk around in their underwear to get a tan prior to going to the beach. I just think the whole world has gone mad. It was like being in a fog of surrealism. Nothing fit together correctly in my understanding of the world today.

This nothing-fits-together-correctly-fog is the kind of fog that disables leaders when they lack clarity about what they are to be doing and why. Flirtations (see previous post) and fog together make for a powerful synergy that cripples leaders. This fog is the type that prevents accurate assessments of people and situations. Have you had a leader over you so totally misunderstand you that you were left breathless by their assessment of you personally or your work? When this happens to me, I have to evaluate who is in a fog, me or him. As often as not, it's me.

Fog in life is when you cannot correctly assess the world around you. It's like going out for your usual morning exercise ride and suddenly seeing retirees walking and riding in their underwear like they were this morning in Skopje; the world is out of kilter, the axis are not set properly, the data you are receiving does not compute.

This happens to all leaders at one time or another. Unfortunately Fog makes Flirtations even more attractive. These two F's in a persons life will erode their leadership influence and power. I read this morning 1 Timothy 4:16, "Keep a firm grip on both your character and your teaching. Don't be diverted. Just keep at it. Both you and those who hear you will experience salvation." Amen.

flirtations

I am not exactly talking about David and Bathsheba or Samson and Delilah here, but I may be. Flirtations are one of the three keys that consistently lead to leadership failure. Now I love flirtations. And it's the very nature of flirtations to be a distraction. That is actually the point of a flirtation . . . to have a distraction, to have a change of . . . something in the course of the day, to ease the intensity of focus. This is bad. It shows the weakness of my character.

There are at least three types of flirtations that I can see. When Jesus is telling the parable of the Wedding Feast, there were three excuses given why the invited ones couldn't come right at that moment: one had bought a piece of property, one had just purchased five teams of oxen, and one had just gotten married - e.g. property, transportation and relationships. There are probably as many flirtations as there are people in the world, but these three are particularly universal.

In the course of our lifetimes, we spend unbelievable amounts of resources on property, and yes, we do have to have a place to live, this is a fact. But the size, location and costs of our housing choices may well be more of a wall than a flirtation. "But it's a good investment" people tell me all the time. "For who?" is my answer/question. Who benefits from the investment, me or the King?

Transportation is such a kicker for me. My poor wife married a horse trader. Her parents would (and still do) get a cheap car and drive it until the wheels fell off, literally. Me, I wanted a different car each quarter of the year. I just loved the variety! I keep the same woman, but I loved to trade cars. I got it honest from my own father. But you will notice that I have been using the past tense, because it is a black hole for losing money. That was 20 years ago. Today people just want something new and often big. Living overseas for the much of the last 12 years has changed my perspective a bit. Most of the citizens of this world do not own a car or truck. Most people in the world own a bike or a pair of shoes. Transportation can be a real flirtation - a distraction from our focus.

Relationships. Well here I could be talking about David and Bathsheba here, or lots of inbetween stuff as well. The whole point that got slammed home to me was that I can spend quite a bit of time pursuing, investing, chasing and energy on flirtations in my life. I can think of a 1000 reasons why these flirtations are important, healthy even! But this statement just kills this line of reasoning, "Simply put, if you are not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it goodbye, you can't be my disciple." (Luke 14:33) Man that cross thing bites.

the demon came back

Well I was following up the young lady who had been set free from a demon in the office here in Skopje (see earlier post) and it appears that the demon has returned to re-take his territory. I was talking with Pastor Venso who had been part of a great healing campaign here in Macedonia the last few weeks, where many were healed and he told me on our trip back to Kochani that unfortunately that the young girl in question had started to pass out again and speak with the voice of this demon.

It seems that we have seen a literal fulfillment of Luke 11: 24-26. I do not know if this lady has had seven more demons more wicked than the original one come into her, but the original one certainly has. This girl had her spiritual house swept clean and put in order, but she did not take the most important step of installing a new Lord! Consequently, there was no way to defend again the demonic spirit that returned to her.

This lesson I evidently need to learn and relearn all my life, Christ alone must be the goal of my life. Getting rid of stuff and nastiness is a lesser part of freedom. Establishing Christ as the center is the real goal, and anything less is insufficient. Pray for me that I will keep Christ the capstone of my life.

How will Jesus be with us?

One of my students pointed out that the gospel records leave many questions unanswered. Jesus states at the end of Matthew's gospel that He will be with us to the end of the age. But Matthew gives no clue to us how this will be so. In Mark's account, in what way is the Lord "working with them" in Mark 16:20? And so on and so forth in Luke as well. There are questions unanswered.

Matthew does not tell us how or in what manner Jesus would be with us until the end of the age, and this is more than a little troubling. Was he suggesting an allegorical view of what he was writing? Not hardly, for then the ascension passages would have to be allegorical. A spiritual view? Many seem to hold to that, but in the end it leaves much to be desired. A literal view?

What is confusing here is how concrete and uncomplex we are in comparison to a triune God. It seems to me that the conclusion to the promise of Christ on earth prior to His departure for heaven was answered in Acts, when the Holy Spirit came on each one of them as tongues of fire. When Jesus was on the earth, both Father and Holy Spirit were as well, because They are three in one. Now when Holy Spirit is with us, Jesus and the Father are as well for the same reason. The confusion for me and my students come when I apply my limitations to God; the limitations of a single person in a singular form. At the same time, it would have been wonderful if Matthew had been more concrete about the mechanics. Now what is an age?

hellfire, ur . . . hailstones

This part of the world has generally mild weather, except for temps, which are really hot in the summer and plenty cold in the winter. But last night was an exception. We had a 30 minute blast of hailstones falling out of a lightning filled sky, and torrential rain to boot. Our street became the Amazon river. Even our basement had water in it - a first.

But the worse part of it was that Brenda and her parents were caught out in this storm . . . or at least we thought. So we just prayed for their safety until things let up enough that Jake and I could venture out looking for them in the car. Just as we were going out the door, the phone rang and it was Brenda calling to tell us they were safe and asking if we could come pick them up. Whew!

We were amazed and in awe of the storm. The kids and I watched it from all the various angles we could in the house and on the balcony. Unfortunately the flowers did not fair well in the storm, nor did our grape vines. The marble ice rockets pretty much ripped them to shreds. But flowers will grow back . . . we are most relieved that everyone was safe. There was still debris everywhere this morning.

That hailstorm came out of no where . . . and it was loud and scary. It reminded me of judgment. No one really thinks much about judgment. We all seem to feel that we are no worse than anyone else. And in truth, we aren't. Unfortunately "everyone else" is not the standard of measurement being used. I was a bit amazed how difficult it was for my students at Evangelical Theological Seminary to accept that there is an eternal place of pain - hellfire - where people will spend eternity. Somedays I wonder if my students are not the only one's struggling to believe this.

In today's cultures of "tolerance", it gets apparently ever more difficult to believe BOTH that God will permit large numbers of human beings to suffer in eternal torment AND that He is ever gracious and loving. The dissonance created by the tension of believing both of these tenets at the same time gets steadily more difficult to bear. I feel like these beliefs are seeping out of evangelical christianity and instead we have a creeping universalism taking hold that reflects the beliefs of our culture and urban legends more than God's Word. I see this in myself some days and it worries me. I have to shake my head and remind myself of the truth. Oh Lord help my unbelief. But I am convinced that the majority of us are struggling with this concept, for our sense of urgency about world evangelization is a true barometer of how feverently we believe this or not. I don't see and sense much urgency in us these days. People are almost always more interested in cultural differences and unique experiences of the missionary, than the purpose of being one in the first place.

grilling and chillin' and spiritual growth

In the photo below, you can see me doing one of my all-time favorite activities. There are so many fine nuances of this exquisite task that each time becomes an attempt to best the previous one. There are three main elements to consider as one tries to produce ever-tastier delicacies for family consumption.



The three elements are 1. the quality of the meat, 2. the marinade, 3. and temperature control. Mess up any one of these three and you will be disappointed in the results. Depending on how badly you fluff one of these three you might be very disappointed with the results.

It seems to me that the spiritual life I am trying to live has multiple elements to it as well. Yesterday afternoon in the middle of syllabus writing, I get a phone call from the pastor in Kochani. He along with three other people are stranded at a gas station near Skopje as their automobile has suddenly stopped working. The pastor has an urgent meeting to attend in Kochani; he wants to know if I will come pick him up and take the four of them to Kochani.

Now I already had been having a rather unproductive day as far as the syllabus writing was going and I was experiencing more than a bit of frustration with the process. Moreover being a typical man, I am generally unfavorably predisposed toward interruptions of any variety, but especially four hour interruptions such as a "quick" trip to Kochani poses. So the first element of spiritual life has to be framing, attitude, or perspective . . . whatever you want to call it. You gotta frame what happens as positive and make the best of it. This is the choosing of the meat if we want to stay with a grilling motif. In other words, I need to see what happens as a steak, rather than roadkill. (Hopefully today's readers will all be grill aficionados, otherwise someone will think that the person writing this is more than slightly twisted.)

The second element of spiritual life is relationship. Vertical, horizontal, repetitive and consistent. Spiritual growth is not something that happens in a vacuum, it's in the day to day working of relationships. Why would the national pastor call me you ask? It's because we are friends. Not co-workers, not acquaintances - friends. As Venso got into the Peugeot he rubbed his hands together and said, "This is great, we can argue all the way to Kochani!" The three ladies in the backseat promptly went to sleep while Venso and I indeed argued about all kinds of fun stuff for the two hour ride to Kochani. I felt like a polished stone on the quiet ride home alone. This is the marinade of grilling. It is what you soak life or the spiritual life . . . it is what gives life flavor.

The third element is pace. Sustainable pace. Or if we fall back on grilling for the last time, this is how hot the fire has become. Too hot - the meat is burnt on the outside and raw on the inside, plus the fire goes out quickly. (BTW, this is GRILLLING, which means using REAL wood charcoal, not gas, and not those factory chemical cubes you get in America that they call charcoal). Not hot enough the meat never cooks and frankly the meat is not safe to eat if the heat is not hot enough. Unfortunately, this one is the most difficult for me. The hotter the better is generally my motto. I grew up in the era that proclaimed, "I want to burn-out for God!" Reality is that no one benefits from such a mentality. Now if only someone would help me get the heat - the pace - just right.

Are we the trustees?

According to Dr Walter Hansen at Fuller Theological Seminary, we are indeed. If we accept his premise (actually it's a simple observation) it would radically change the way we do ministry. No more would we use a two-step system where we spend the vast majority (some statistics quoted out there say 98% - Christianity Today) on ourselves, and expect the rest of the Kingdom of God live at some sub-standard level of living.

Once again according to Christianity Today, "Americans are in the top 1 percent of all wage earners in history, " yet, " . . . there is little difference between the amounts that Christians and non-Christians earn, spend, save, charge, or donate to charities." (http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/005/23.40.html)

“The Western Church is the trustee of the financial wealth of the global church." according to Dr. Walter Hansen of Fuller. If we are the trustee, and we are, why do we overwhelmingly spend our resources on ourselves? Why do we expect our brothers and sisters around the world to go without, be hungry, not have access to medicine, not have almost all of the things we take for granted? The real question is why do we spend 98% of all the money that comes into the church on us?

Before you get all riled up and think that I am bashing the North American church, let me say LOUDLY, that missionaries are far worse. We have swallowed a Victorian era missional strategy that demands our poor brothers and sisters in Christ remain that way . . . and of course we say that we are doing this for their own good. Which is genuine hogwash as they say in the old country . . . we are doing this for ourselves. More for us, less for them. I wonder if that passage in the New Testament about the Rich Fool (Luke 12:13-21) describes us the Trustees, far more than the parable of the shrewd manager in Luke 16?

Perhaps the Father has a great redistribution-of-wealth plan coming. Perhaps this is the only way that He can make me see myself as I really am. The strangest thing is that while all of us feel that there is not enough to make ends meet, in truth we are embarrassingly wealthy. Or as Dr. Bailey at Alliance Theological School states, "While none of us feels like we have enough a realistic comparison with the people of this earth forces us to face our amazing wealth."

When I think about this a bit, I come to the realization that I am a selfish person and fairly uncaring as well. Mostly I am consumed with me. Of course I can state that I have a daughter in college, there is little retirement money, that cost of living is outstripping income, or a thousand other reasons. Truthfully, I am a bad trustee. I think God has made a poor decision here. The question is, what am I to do about it?

mentally defective

This was the third taxi driver's assessment of the second taxi driver. Jake and I had been trying to resolve some travel dilemmas, (see previous post) and after very limited progress at Lufthansa's center office, we were catching a taxi to the church. We got into this taxi with one of those nasty Neanderthal types, he even had the physical features! And immediately he began to talk about each woman we passed as if she were potentially his personal pleasure opportunity. He intentionally pulled into the crosswalks, so that the women had to pass around his car and his filthy dialogue made me want to smash his face into his Russian steering wheel (in the name of Jesus of course) . . . I did not appreciate his comments one bit, but in front of my 16 year son made it feel 10x's worse!

I told him that my woman was plenty for me and that only a fool needed more than one woman. His disgust at my simplistic views almost shut him up. When we got out of the car, I told Jake, "People like that make me feel so slimy, I feel like I need a bath!" And I pointed out to him that if his sisters or mother got into that man's taxi how uncomfortable it would be for them!

My anger and disgust was still running high when we finished our tasks at the church and were hopping another taxi home. I basically told the taxi driver what the previous driver had been like. His assessment cheered me much, "Those kinds of people are mentally defective" he told us. I could not agree more. At the same time, but for Christ in me, there goes my life.

Worse yet, how do I share the Gospel with a mentally defective chump like that? I mean I have always been able to bridge large social gaps . . . I can switch gears from golfing with my physician to digging a well by hand in the village with illiterates in a heartbeat. I have a large box for people to play in . . . I can generally love them and hate the sin that destroys them. But when someone embraces the nastiest and dirtiest recesses of human depravities . . . I don't see anyway to reach out in love, when I want to pound them instead. I am not a very good missionary some days.

What if?

Well I have been tracking their flights for the last month, ever since I noticed in the newspaper that Cirrus Airlines was not functioning well. Of course the chances of missing my connection in Frankfurt seems to be in the highly-likely to certain range, as I have a scheduled flight with them soon and one would think that knowing ahead of time would help one avoid the trauma of missing a connection, but not necessarily.

I already have hotels, cars and such scheduled on the USA side. But since I can't be certain 100% that I will miss my flight to the states, I can't cancel all the stuff on that end. I thought about booking a hotel room in Frankfurt but that too seems premature for the same reasons. What if Lufthansa puts me on a different flight to Dulles even though me coming in late on Cirrus is not their fault? What if a miracle happens and I actually get to Frankfort in time to make my connection?

As you can see from these "what if" scenarios, the virtually endless combined possibilities make prediction all but impossible; travel can be a nightmare. Even someone with many many years of living out of suitcases and endless traveling cannot resolve this dilemma . . . there are too many undetermined factors that will come into play that very day and force decisions. The "what-if" game makes one old before their time.

The "what-if" game gets played out in life much the same as it does in traveling in the hairy arm-pit of Eastern Europe. Much of life is simply a series of what-ifs. No one reaches my age in life without wondering what their life would be like today, if they had made a different set of choices along the way. Yet, no one can survive long if they continue to engage in this process of a what-if fashion. Life cannot be lived in this manner.

That is why the only way to live is by principles, and of course the best place to get those is in God's Word. Now I wonder where I might find a biblical principle with which to deal with Lufthansa and Cirrus? Perhaps Matthew 24:20?

the good ole' days?

Life expectancy in 1906 was 47 years of age in the USA. The maximum speedlimit in most cities was 10 mph. More than 95% of all births took place at home, not in a hospital. At least 90% of all doctors in the US had no college degree. Again this is all in 1906, 100 years ago in the USA. Most women washed their hair once a month, and they generally used borax or egg yokes for shampoo. Only 6% of all Americans had graduated from High School. Marijuana, heroin and morphine were all available over the counter at local corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, "heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health." And last but not least is the statistic that there were only 230 reported murders in the entire USA. (Contrast that with 16,900 murders in the USA in 2005).

Billy Joel sang that the "good ole' days weren't always good and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems." That seems to sum it up pretty well. I wonder what it will be like in 2106? My grand children will find out I guess given the progressive curve of life expectancy, though I certainly will not be here. As I have mulled over these statistics this morning the conclusion that I reached is that much change has happened both good and bad in the last 100 years, but today is mine to make and shape and influence. The past is done and tomorrow may not come. Today is all I have. You too.