1 Thousand "Thank You's"

The revolution of thanks is ending on this one for me...not in life, but merely for this blog account. This seems to me to be the most unlikely of places to discover a reason for gratitude, but nonetheless, here it is.

I just read an excerpt from a book called, The Secrets We Keep, by John Eckeberger and I couldn't finish it. It's a book about the sexual abuse that Eckeberger experienced as a kid and it goes into some very detailed descriptions.

It was too much.

I couldn't handle it. I sat at my computer with tears streaming down my cheeks at the thought of such unimageinable evil in this world. I wanted to reach out to Eckeberger. I wanted to reach out to the man who was the source of this pain and hurt. But there was nothing that I could do. I was left with reading about the loss and hurt that had happened and I couldn't even do that. I wanted to read what he had written. I wanted to support him by hearing the words that he had poured into, but I couldn't do it. I had to skip ahead, past the hurt, to the end of the first chapter. I wanted to see if there was a redeeming ending to the horrific accounts that were just expressed on the pages.

There were none.

Obviously, being the first chapter, my hopes were far too high for what had been written. I read the excerpt on Eckeberger's blog, which shares the name of his book and allows for comments, feedback, etc. from readers. The very first comment on this chapter from his book gave me what I did not expect...

Hope.

Speaking of similar abuse in his family, the comment said, "...those secrets have been a source of pain, suffering, and the brink of destruction...the secrets, no long secrets, have also opened the door to Jesus' healing power, forgiveness, and most of all unending grace..."

I'm grateful that Eckeberger has opened the door to release the foothold that the enemy has held for far too long. That he is willing to share his hurt and healing with the world in order to allow others to do the same. To provide a place of release. A place of healing. A place of hope. A place where people can allow God to hold us close in the midst of our hurt.

Thanks

God provides healing, forgiveness, and grace in the gravest of circumstances. It's beyond my understanding. I don't know how to deal with this kind of tragedy in the world, but I'm grateful that God does. That He is holds us close.

1000 thanks!

Okay, surprisingly Thanksgiving put a temporary stop to writing my thanks. It amazes me at times how something that is supposed to make you do one thing creates so much work and busyness that it pushes you toward the complete opposite edge. So I'm going to write one thing down today that really hit me over Thanksgiving to be thankful for...

Ephraim

I was overwhelmed to have my boy with us this year. It was a little taste of Hell not having him in our arms last year, and I cannot convey the kind of gratitude that is in my heart to have him near right now. I truly feel the gratitude toward God that I believe I'm supposed to have all the time...a gratitude that is so deep that it's beyond my abilities to express.

A Thousand Thanks...

Okay, so 1000 thanks was going to take longer to post at the rate that we were going than an elderly man changing trying to remove his undershirt (if you haven't seen this, just picture it...you'll know what I'm talking about). The whole point was to make Laurel and I more grateful, but taking that much time wasn't really making it happen, so there has been a change. We've decided to each write down 100 things we are thankful for each week until we get to 1000. It's a lot more work, but it's forcing us to notice things that have previously gone unnoticed because we have created this arduous task in life of focusing on the future rather than the present.

The downside: you will not read all 1000 things we are thankful for.

The upside: you will not read all 1000 things we are thankful for.

Join us. Write your thanks. Here are a few highlights from my list this week:

I woke up this morning.

It's amazing how often I take for granted the simple fact that God has given me another day.

It truly is a gift.

Ephraim saying, "Daddy"

He's always called me "Dadda", but out of the nowhere my rambunctious little boy started saying, "Daddy." It made me teary-eyed.

Watching "Community" and

eating popcorn with Laurel

It was amazing!

A Thousand Thanks...

Okay, my wife is much more ambitious about this than I am...but that goes right along with her personality...and mine. She already gave thanks for a few things that I was going to write down today, so I won't repeat it (check out her blog for the others: chrisandlaurel.blogspot.com).

Seventeen

Thank God that I made it to the gas station this morning without having to push my Bronco down the street.

Eighteen

And, yes, Laurel said this one, but I am too thankful not to mention it too. I am so thankful that our son is finally starting to sleep through the night. I was literally going insane from lack of sleep.

A Thousand Thanks...

My wife, Laurel, has this way of inspiring me to live life differently. She'll start a conversation with me out of the blue with some new way in which she understands life or how she longs to begin a new way of thinking. She'll stress over the way her life has been and develop a craving to stop merely existing and start truly living. I live a little differently. If I come to a new conclusion about life, I typically get excited about the new thought and move on. Laurel, on the other hand, takes action. She feels compelled to change not only her way of thinking, but her way of doing.

This is the start of a new way of doing...

She was telling me how she has the desire to live a life of gratitude. She said that she wants to notice all of the seemingly insignificant things that happen all around us everyday. So we put our heads together and came up with a solution. We will work back and forth between our blogs to come up with "A Thousand Thanks". If you see missing numbers on my blog, you need to look at Laurel's (chrisandlaurel.blogspot.com). Hopefully we can all start making lists and see the things that are going well in our lives instead of focusing on the negatives. Maybe we can learn to be thankful in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:18). What would life look like if we did that?

A Thousand Thanks...

1. Jesus


2. Laurel


3. Ephraim


4. Family


5. Friends

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

Laurel and I were just talking this last week about the difficulties and sacrifices that we make because I'm a pastor. The biggest thing that I brought up was that we are really sacrificing financially...if you aren't aware of it, pastors don't make a lot of money, so we don't have a lot of money.

We went and watched Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps later that day and at first my suspicions of our being financially challenged were quickly confirmed by the film. I started to realize more and more that we forgo the majority our fiscal potential and I was feeling a little envious of the possessions that others are able to obtain.

What was amazing was that as the movie continued, I began to feel an oppression over me. The movie really wasn't that dark (I honestly expected it to be much more so considering it is an Oliver Stone flick). Yet, I could not shake this oppressive sensation.

Just before the credits began to roll, I had an epiphany...Jesus is right: the desire for wealth leads to destruction (1 Tim. 6:9 paraphrased). We quote all too often that "the love of money is the root of all evil," but the verse before it says that if you want to get rich, it leads to destruction.

My epiphany: I'm not sacrificing at all as a pastor. The real sacrifice is to give up the spiritual freedom and blessings of God in order to want money...to want to get rich.

The reality is that there is no freedom greater than to be totally dependent on God...when you can do nothing about your situation. It sounds moronic to say it out loud, but it's true. When I'm not in control and God is, I can let go. I can have freedom that money will never provide. I guess Oliver Stone was pretty right on when he subtitled the film, Money Never Sleeps. It makes me not want money. I really like to sleep.

Everybody wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to die...

I had a hard time finding it. And I can't tell you how many people wanted to say that it was written for Kenny Chesney in 2008, which is ludicrous. It's a little angering to see something as credible as Wikipedia state such nonsense. I mean the site that let's anyone write down anything that they want and call it fact has lent itself to me on numerous occasions including on multiple reports that I've written for grad school. But my faith has now totally and utterly jumped out the window when it comes to finding facts through the infamous site of tentative knowledge. Where were you on that one fact checker?!?

How could anyone say that "Everybody Wants to Go To Heaven" was written so recently?

It's an old song.

The oldest version I could find is by Loretta Lynn around 1960. I'm guessing that she is the original author, but I can't get it out of my head that it's actually older than that. Maybe it's the daunting tone of the relatable lyrics that makes it sound like it has always been around. Maybe it's the connection I feel to the author when she proclaims the call to live in the tension between Heaven and Earth that makes me sense that this is something that we've been living with since the beginning...to long for paradise with God Almighty, but to continually fear taking that last breath.

I've been thinking about death quite a bit over the last couple of months (probably since my last post...Ephraim is finally starting to sleep, so I am finally starting to sleep, which makes me a little more able to think. The only downside is that I can't blame my lack of sleep for irritability and lack of patience that may occur). I read a book that talked a lot about death. I took part in a funeral here at church. And there have been some other instances that are now alluding me which have turned my attention toward the end of this life here on Earth. It's really made me think about the way that I live my life. Because of that, one person keeps coming to my mind...Grandma (don't tell her this is why I was thinking of her. She may get the wrong idea).

I started to think about the legacy that you leave behind when you die, or lack thereof. I started to wonder what my funeral would look like, what people might say, what music would play, would anyone show up?, etc. Then I thought about my grandma's funeral (really, don't even mention this part to her). I thought that if I was to say one thing about my grandma...if there was one thing that I would always remember her for and tell my kids and grandkids about her, it's that I longed to love people the way that she does.

That I want so badly to be as loving and kind-hearted as she is.

At funerals you always end up trying to find something nice to say about the lifeless mass that is now laying before you even if that rotting collection of carbon was a rotten and miserable example of a person.

At my last church, I ended up attending a lot of funerals. It was an older church and a lot of people died while we were there (not because I was there). I can remember one funeral in particular where the only thing anyone said about the guy was that he loved golf.

"He was always out playing golf."

"You couldn't get him off the course."

"What a great backstroke."

It became blatantly obvious to me that the guy kind of sucked. Not at golf obviously. I think he was probably pretty good at that. But I think he sucked at life. No one had any stories about spending time with him. No one talked about the way the trip they took impacted their life. No one talked about the time that they got to sit down with him and feel so deeply connected with him that their life would never be the same now that he's gone. Just golf...he kind of sucked.

I'm not talking about this kind of situation. My grandma is the sweetest, kindest, sometimes ditziest, most loving woman on the planet. I have had the opportunity to grow up near my grandparents and have spent a lot of time with them, and I have never heard my grandma say one negative word about anyone. Not one. There was a time when one of our extended dirtball family members was being talked about and everyone was chiming in on the terrible things that he had done. Her only input was,

"But he's a good man."

I admire her for that. I wish that I had her view of other people. That I could love others the way that she does (okay maybe you should tell her this part. I'll get to be her favorite for a while if she hears this).

All of this made me think that I need to love the way my grandma does. I need to be as kind as she is. I need to see people with the eyes that she has because she lives out the second greatest commandment almost to a fault. But she does it because she truly lives out the first.

I want that in my life.

Sleep, I miss you so much...

We are in the middle of some sort of sleep regression with Ephraim which means that he takes anywhere from 40-60 minutes to fall asleep and then he's up 4-6 times a night. As a result, I'm tired. Laurel's tired. And we are ready for a good night's sleep. I think I slept for about 5 and a half hours last night if you add it all together.

You might be thinking that this is normal and I should stop complaining...well...keep that to yourself. We haven't been able to sleep through the night for more than a few nights in the last 6 months. We are tired...very tired.

Really I'm saying all this not so much because I just couldn't wait to write it down, but more so that I can sound like I'm not really a major slacker. I've been meaning to write something funny, creative, interesting and mind-blowing. You know, the kind of blog post that you tell your friends about. The kind that you cannot get out of your head. The kind that keeps you up at night (like me) because it completely changes your entire view of life. But I need to sleep first. So Lord willing, something will be coming soon.

Ted

Ted was one of my best friends growing up. He showed up one day when we were in fourth grade to check out the class he was about to join. Ted's family hadn't moved to Visalia yet, but they came to Mt. View Elementary so he could meet his teacher as well as some other students. Our teacher, Mrs. Goates who was the kindest teacher that I think I've ever met and who surprisingly shared some physical characteristics with her namesake, had me show him around the school while the rest of the class went to P.E.

He was hilarious! I liked him from the moment I met him. I think we could both tell right away that when he started school here we were going to be good friends. It didn't hurt that we were only 2 of 8 boys in our class.

I had no idea what to show him at the school other than where the bathrooms were, the drinking fountains, and where the cool kids played tetherball and kickball on the playground. Ted picked up on my inability to decide what to show him next and asked if I was supposed to be in P.E.

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll let you go," he said. He turned around and walked back to the office where his mom was waiting for him. I found out years later that he thought I didn't want to show him anything else because I wanted to go to P.E. He had no idea that the chubby kid standing before him didn't have the slightest desire to go to P.E.. I was more than eager to hang out and show him more of the school if there was just more of the school to show.

One of the reasons that I liked Ted so much is because no matter what was going on Ted made you laugh. We got chased around town one day on our rollerblades by a minivan which freaked me out, but not Ted. He thought we were getting some good exercise.

Everyone that knew Ted wanted to be around him...all the time. We had a lot of fun together growing up. But one of the best realizations for me was when I recognized that Ted wanted to be around me all the time too. It wasn't just me that liked Ted. Ted liked me...a lot. He was calling and asking me to come over to his house or asking if he could come over to my house almost everyday. We were best friends for many years, but we started to focus on different things and we drifted apart in high school.

I haven't seen Ted in probably 10 years or so. But I couldn't help but think of him this week when I was spending some quality time with God. I haven't spent very much time with Him lately. Life has been too crazy. Work. Family. Yards. Friends. Things have been out of control and I've slacked off on spending some quiet time with Jesus.

I woke up early this week to take care of Ephraim (our 1 year old boy). He went back to sleep, but I couldn't. I decided that I really needed to spend time with God. So I sat down in the living room and read some of the Bible and started to pray. I almost immediately felt...amazing. I didn't realize that this lack of time with God was dragging me down so much. And as I was praying and thanking God that I could spend time with Him, I understood that it wasn't just me. God was glad that He could spend time with me. He wants to be around me all the time...even if I don't. Although, after I spend time with Him, I always want to spend more time with Him.

This realization was monumental for me. Just like with Ted, it wasn't just me that likes God. God likes me...a lot. He really wants to spend time with me. He wants to hang out with me. I'm His friend too. That makes me want to spend even more time with Him.

I've felt my whole life like I've been calling up God to hang out only to find that He's constantly calling me to come over to His house...or to see if He can come over to my house to hang out for a while. I love that!

I don't know what's happened to Ted at this point. I hope and pray that he's doing well. That he's figured out what he's helped me figure out...God doesn't just love us...He likes us too.