Meatballs

I love meatballs, although, this has not always been the case.  As I was growing up, there was always meat at our dinner table.  For a brief time in my childhood, our family raised hogs. (Some had been known to be “cap gun” eating hogs). Thus, pork was one of our staple forms of protein.  We also tried our hand at raising geese for a while.  (Unfortunately, the hogs not only ate cap guns…they also ate geese. Thus the geese never officially made it to our table).  We would also occasionally purchase a side of beef, and we frequently ate venison bagged from the hunting season of the previous November.

My mother would not serve the meat as simple, basic meat.  For reasons that befuddled me at the time, my mother was insistent upon adding onions to the meat.  I hated onions…she knew I hated onions…yet she would constantly attempt to sneak the little white devils into the burgers, on top of the roasts, or wrapped around pork chops and there was never an onionless meatball to be found.

Meatballs and mashed potatoes were a common meal as a child, and though I liked the idea of the meal…it became tiresomely impossible to pick out every tiny onion piece out of each and every meatball on my plate.  As everyone else was finishing up their supper…I was still removing the translucent flakes of doom from the first of my three meatballs.

She would say things like, “They are so small you will never notice them.”

Right!...and so wrong!

They were so small…yet noticeable…and extremely difficult to extract.  Why didn’t she keep them bigger…thus making my life easier?  I cannot begin to imagine how many hours I could have spent helping with the dishes had I not been so busy removing onions.

Today is different.  Whether it is because I tired of eradicating the onions from my meatballs or because I actually acquired a taste for the little white vegetable, I now enjoy onions…and I am quite fond of them in my meatballs.

I cannot help but observe a metaphor of unity in the meatball and onion.  Once my mother had put all of the ingredients of the meatball together…the burger, the onions, the eggs, the oatmeal, etc…there was no chance of truly separating the elements.  In fact, in attempting to do the impossible…damage is actually caused to the meatball.

In John 17:20-26, Jesus prays for all of the people who WILL believe in him…in the future.  He prays that these believers will have “unity.” Unity is more than just getting along…it is being bonded together…to form a greater good…like a meatball.  Jesus says that this unity will actually reflect the Glory of God.  It makes me want to be a part of that unity…how about you?

Could Use a Little Salt

I remember growing up with church pot lucks.  Some people like to refer to them as “pot bless.” However, from my experiences, not all pot bless selections are a “blessing.” It became my practice to keep my eye on the entry way door as people brought Crockpot after Crockpot of hot dishes, pans of bars, baskets of rolls and the like.  If you paid enough attention to the conversations before and after church, you could begin to glean the knowledge of who was diabetic, who had high blood pressure and or who was on some new “non-sugar, non-fat, carrots only diet.” I would watch to see who brought what tray and or what Crockpot…then I would know whether or not to avoid the “blessed” item.  It seemed that cookies without sugar were not as good as cookies with sugar.  Bars without butter were not as good as bars made with, say, a pound of butter, and hot dishes without salt tended to be a bland combination of noodle and tomato.  All this to say…there was indeed some “luck” involved when it came to the flavor of your plate.

I think it was roughly third grade when a peanut farmer came to our school. He shared with us the intricacies of the peanut.  We had been studying about George Washington Carver.  This farmer brought enough peanuts to shake a stick at.  Note: This event took place before the age of peanut allergies in schools…and if someone did happen have a peanut allergy…it may have been considered a serious “pot un-luck."

I was incredibly excited! I loved peanuts! In fact, there had been a few sightings of peanuts within our   house.  It seemed that in our home, peanuts were such a treasured possession that they would remain secreted away only to be eaten by Dad when all of the children were in bed and ice cream was being served.  Totally not fair! I have done my best to keep this tradition alive and well.

This peanut farmer brought pounds upon pounds of peanuts, still in the shell, just ready to be cracked into.  At the end of his talk…(which I remember very little…except that Mr. G.W. Carver was not the same man that crossed the Delaware, Christmas day in 1776)…he allowed us to take as many peanuts home as we wanted.  It may have been upwards to 10lbs of peanuts that I brought home in a brown paper grocery bag that day.

My parents were going to be so proud…so happy…they may have considered doubling my $0 allowance…or maybe I could even have some! When I arrived home and showed the bag to my mom she said, “Wow! That’s a lot of peanuts! What are we going to do with all those peanuts!?”

“Ummm, eat them! Hello!”

I cracked open the first one and ate it… “Huh…tastes a little different.”

My mother tried one. “These peanuts are raw!”

“Aren’t all peanuts raw?”

“No, usually they are roasted.”

I ate another one, “Could use a little salt.”

In John 17:6-19, Jesus continues His prayer to the Father, now praying for His disciples.  His prayer parallels an idea that he had shared with them at the Sermon on the Mount found in Matthew 5.  Jesus’ prayer, in a sense, is that they could “salt” the earth…that they would bring flavor to the world…that people could taste and see that Jesus is good.  Salt in its very nature, is used to preserve and bring flavor to life.  Does your life burst with flavor or does your life leave a bitter taste? Jesus is calling us to bring the flavor of Christ to life.

My Time is Coming

Sarah is gone for the weekend.  Her family sent for her to head home to Michigan, so that they could honor her by celebrating her up and coming 40^th birthday.  I have been trying to keep the house tidy while she is gone…but I’m not…or perhaps more accurately…the kids AND I, are not.  I have been trying…seriously, I have been trying, but apparently…I am really bad at it…because despite the fact that I am trying to make the place a little cleaner…it is actually getting worse!

The truth of it is…that it will continue to get worse…yet it will be clean before she gets home…well…it will at least “look” clean.  I could do it now, but then it will just get messed up again…so why try?  It’s not time.

Tomorrow will not be the time either.

There is a very specific time…the perfect time…and it is the time shortly before she arrives home.  The cleaning must begin early enough to complete it…but not too soon as to leave time for another mess to be created. So some time on Monday morning…the time will come…and then…I will panic…and clean and clean and clean…or should I say…hide stuff…hide stuff…hide stuff…

My time is coming…

In the Gospel of John chapter 17, Jesus begins to pray.  This moment is just before he is going to be crucified…and he begins his prayer with the phrase, “The time has come.”  If you read through the Gospel of John, you will see Jesus refer on several occasions…that his “time has not yet come.”  Later in the same Gospel we find that…His time has come.  The time for the full revelation of his saving work is about to be revealed.  When Jesus reveals his saving work…the Glory of God is shown.  Whenever Jesus saves a soul from sin…heals a body…creates new life within us…Jesus is glorified…and when Jesus is glorified…God is glorified.

This truth has changed the way that I look at salvation…it is so much more that “fire” insurance.  The salvation that Jesus has offered to me…is something that reveals his very character…the character of a loving, gracious, merciful God.

May the Glory of God be revealed!

I Can Drive!...Kind of...

In the late 80’s and early 90’s it was customary to enter into the realm of advanced technology while pursuing your driver’s license.

In the summer before our sophomore year in high school, my classmates and I stepped into the hot non-air conditioned confines of our public high school building and underwent hours of drivers training classes.  These interesting classes of stop signs and passing lanes, helped us refresh our sleep deprived, overworked, I just weeded 3 acres of potatoes, selves.  Attendance was required…open eyes were not.

The classroom was only a part of the educational requirements.  There was also the Simulator.  Advances in modern technology had developed a large, semi-tractor trailer filled with steering wheel consoles and a large retractable screen secured to the front.  Each student would enter the trailer (also no air conditioning), sit at a console, and pretend to drive a car that was projected onto the screen in front of the entire class. Everyone drove the same car…at the same time…it mattered not which direction you turned your steering wheel…the car magically followed the road laid out in front of us.  For dramatic effect, the instructor would occasionally flip the reel to reel projector off as a ball rolled into the street, followed by a young boy chasing said ball and yell… “You killed him!...You are going to prison for the rest of your lives!”

The experience was much like playing Turbo on the Atari…without the dying children and prison…or like sitting in one of those grocery store carts with the attached car.  You turn the wheel, yet, you really have no control over where the cart is going…nor what is being put into the cart. You desperately want to steer away from the broccoli and back over to the cookies, but your mom strapped you into the “car” too tightly and continues to repeat “No” after every request for Little Debbie snacks or Cocoa Puffs.

Once completing the required classroom hours and simulator hours, you sat down to take a written exam.  If you were lucky enough to correctly guess enough answers, they gave you a “permit” to drive.

The day I passed my exam and received my permit, my mother handed me the keys and gave me full access to the car and said, “You drive home.”  After we had traveled nearly one of the thirteen required miles home…she said to me, “You have never really driven a car have you?”

“Nope…but I did have 8 hours in a simulator…does that count?”

“No…no it does not.”

To her credit, she allowed me to finish the drive home and did not allow me to drive again until I had completed the next requirement…actual behind the wheel training.

I remember very distinctly the feeling of suddenly having full “access” to a whole new world of options.  I had just stepped into something that had always been out there...as a promise for the future…but had never yet experienced.

In John 16:23-33, Jesus reveals a truth that throws the disciples into a whole new world of thought.  He tells them, that from the moment of his crucifixion…the disciples will be able to have direct access to the Father, which was unheard of in their culture.  They had always needed a mediator…a priest…someone to go before the Lord for them.  However, when Christ was crucified…the veil in the temple was torn…and suddenly a whole new world was revealed to the disciples…and all who chose to follow Him.

We can have full access…to the Father...because of what Jesus did!  Incredible!

Birth

My wife loves giving birth.  I know right!? That seems entirely foreign to me.  I have been there.  I have experienced…the screaming…the tears…the fear…the panic…and that doesn’t even include what Sarah may have been feeling.

Sarah had long labors…the shortest one being around 13 hours and the longest pushing 36 hours.  I remember the long grueling walks, during the nine, post-due date days, while expecting our fourth born.  I am pretty sure I developed plantar fasciitis from those walks.  Sarah then labored all through the night, at home, before going into the hospital at 4:30 in the morning. I don’t do well with such a lack of sleep.

Our third born brought a particularly hard labor, after hours of attempts to induce labor activity, I was forced to sleep in an uncomfortable recliner for the night.  I remember having to rub Sarah’s lower back continuously the next day, while my cheeseburger got cold.

It has always struck me that after each delivery Sarah would verbally state, “I love that feeling. When it’s all over, and I hold my baby for the first time…it’s all worth it.”

That’s pretty impressive.

Jesus uses these experiences as a metaphor in John 16:16-33.  He is telling His disciples that He is leaving...but He will see them again in a “little while.” Jesus says to them, “You will feel grief”…pain…but, like the pain of a mother giving birth, it will last a short while, and then they will be overcome with a joy that will last forever.

Jesus promises…that He will return and with His return, a joy that will last, and last, and last.  He will not die again. He will not leave again. He brings a joy that will last.

Reveal

My son’s eyes nearly exploded out of his young face as he saw his grandfather pouring a blanket of sugar over his bowl of Cheerios.

Whenever our children came home from having stayed with Grandma and Grandpa for a weekend, a day or even an hour, Sarah and I had to help them relearn our own house rules.  Such as, cookies are not allowed for breakfast, lunch or dinner.  Caffeinated coffee is not intended for children under 8 years old.  Donuts are not considered to be a “whole grain” food.  There is no need to blanket Cocoa Puffs with sugar,  and despite Grandma’s favorite rally cry, “Grandma’s my name and spoiling is my game.” Dad’s slogan remained, “Dad’s my name and no…you can’t have that…or that…or that.”

I remember when my son first came home and asked to put sugar over his cereal.  Though Sarah and I had both grown up pouring sugar over our cereal, we wanted to limit the amount of sugar our children took in and with it, lower their energy level, naturally.  Thus, we chose not to introduce our children to this treasured secret.  I have memories of pouring sugar over every spoonful of Wheaties while simultaneously digging in the box for the next cool cereal box toy.

Like my son, I was always the first one up in the mornings, so I was nearly always the first to get at the cereal and have the first crack at the cereal box toy.  I remember some my favorite rewards included a $1 bill from Cheerios (I was one of one million people who shared a one million dollar jackpot), a Wacky Wall Walker (what is more fun than throwing a sticky plastic octopus to the wall and watching it crawl down the wall…until it gets dirty…then it just falls to the floor and gets dirtier) and a color changing spoon from a box of Trix.

I recall on one such occasion, where I had to dig inside of a box of cereal to find a prized piece of red cellophane, that was needed to be able to read the secret message on the back of the cereal box (this was at a time where germs had not yet been invented in my pre-adolescent mind, so I was certain no one would mind my sticky little fingers handling every sugary, frosted flake inside the box).  Without that simple red filter…there was no hope of reading the important secret message…which probably said something like, “Trix are for kids.” or “They’re Grrreat!” or some other super important message.

Our lives are filled with revelations.  Our parents reveal to us our misbehaviors and their expectations of us.  They, perhaps, reveal that wooden spoon hidden in the drawer when those expectations are not met.  Our parents can also reveal many life skills to us…like, how to live…how to manage money, how to treat others, how to speak to others, how to love our own children and how to reveal these things to our children as well…and perhaps, how not to blanket our cereal with an acre of sugar.

As great as our parents are as “revealers,” there is another who reveals an even greater message.  In John 16:5-16, Jesus promises that the Holy Spirit will come and “reveal” to the world its guilt in sin, righteousness and judgment.  Though that may sound negative, there is a beauty in recognizing our own guilt.  When we recognize our own guilt, our own lack of righteousness and the judgment that follows, we find ourselves primed for the message of hope that is also revealed.  The message is the promise that Jesus has conquered our sin, given us His righteousness and taken our deserved judgment upon Himself.

That is a message that is worth having revealed.

Unloaded

My wife and I sat peacefully on the sofa together, enjoying some quiet time as the kids rested.  Before we had our fourth child we were able to put all three of our children down for naps all at the same time, in separate rooms.  We would put our oldest daughter downstairs in her own room, our son would nap in our room, and our youngest daughter (at the time) would sleep in her crib.  As parents of three children four years old and younger, times like these were cherished moments for the two of us.

As we sat there basking in the silence, we began to hear the small voice of the one year old, cooing unintelligibly in her room.  She seemed cheery…pleasant…even happy.  She, unlike our son at that age, had not yet learned to extract herself from the confines of her crib, so we had no reason to be concerned. Finally, we felt that as “good parents” we should check on her.  I was elected to sneak a peek at the happy girl, to make sure she was still safely confined and happy. The idea was to sneak a peek, without being noticed, so that the happy play could continue and thus extending our time of peace.

I slowly turned the knob and cracked the door.  As a slit in the door jamb expanded, I was blasted by an odor worse than death itself and struggled to remain conscious.  Through blurry, watery eyes that were struggling to adjust to the dim light, I saw something unexpected.  This little one year old girl was not wearing her footy jammies.  This little girl was not wearing her little white onesie.  My child was not wearing a diaper! Our one year old artist had painted her white crib brown! This little bundle of stinky joy was sucking her two favorite sucking fingers!

I had two words to express my response.  Number one, “Nasty!” …There could not be a second word because I had passed out before I could come up with one…technically…I probably didn’t faint…just wished I had.

After pinching myself in an attempt to wake up from the bad dream I was hoping I was experiencing, I raised up the courage to croak out the words, “Sarah!...Carissa needs you!”

We all need change in our lives at some point.  This little girl needed a diaper change…but she decided to make the changes that she wanted to make, on her own…it didn’t turn out so well.

Change will always lead to conflict.  If we resist it, we find conflict with those implementing it.  If we embrace it, we find conflict with those resisting it.  Not all changes are worth embracing.  Likewise, not all changes are worth resisting.

When Jesus came to this earth he brought with Him some changes.  These changes were not something that most people wanted to embrace.  Jesus brought truth and love to a world stuck in untruth and hate.  In John 15:18-16:4, Jesus tells his disciples, about how much the world will hate them because the world first hated Him.  The world hated Jesus because He revealed to the world, that the world was stuck in sin.  Jesus came to not only reveal the sin…but He came to take care of the sin.

When I stepped into my daughter’s room on that fateful day and turned on the light…the revelation of her filth came into the light.  Then my wife and I dealt with the filth.  We were not ok to let her continue in her filth, so we revealed it.  Certainly, she was too young to know that we were revealing her filth and dealing with it. But we were not.  When Jesus reveals to mankind…to the Jewish leaders…to his disciples…to us…the truth about ourselves…what will we do? Will we hate him? Or, will we embrace how he is trying to change us and deal with our sin?

It’s a battle between love and hate.