Cheeseburger

 

“Dad!? Can we go to McDonalds!?...PLEASE!??”

“Yeah! Dad!? PLEEEEAAASSSEE,” begged my siblings.

“No…we are not going to McDonalds…it is too expensive.”

“But Dad! We haven’t eaten anything all day and it’s already 2:00 in the afternoon!” I retorted.

“Yeah and we are soooo hungry,” my 4 year old sister added between finger sucks.

“No!” my patriarch stoically avowed.

“But Dad! We can share a drink…really…c’mon Dad!” I implored with the staccato of a jackhammer.

“Yeah Dad! We really want to eat!”

“You should have eaten more for breakfast.”

“But Dad! We left at 6:30 a.m. and have done nothing but shop for lumber, light fixtures and floor tiles all day! Not only is that just flat out boring, but the boredom makes us think of nothing else but our empty stomachs.”

“Mine is even digesting itself!”

“We are only stopping once for food today.  I am not willing to spend money to go out more than once in a day.  I intend for our only food stop to be the Old Country Buffet at 4:55 p.m. …5 minutes before they switch to the “dinner” pricing…so we can eat the roast beef at the “lunch” price.

“But Dad! We are sooo hungry now!”

The battle continued.  I was by far the most vocal in my obsessing effort to convince the foremost authority of the family to feed us.  It was scriptural after all…“When a child asks for bread, does his father give him a snake?”  In this case…the snake was the equivalent to nothing…at least until supper.  My siblings were of minimal help.  They agreed with the arguments and desires that I was laying before our father.  I trust that they too shared in the craving for a semi-warm and flattened cheeseburger wrapped in yellow paper.  Despite the shared longing of  my other brothers, they refrained from the same vocal badgering…perhaps too intimidated by the domineering beard of the powerful being behind the steering wheel.  My 4 year old sister on the other hand, being absent of the same fear, chorally agreed, singing, “booger, booger, booger!”

“C’mon Dad! We don’t even want roast beef! We want super salty fries, limp with grease,” I reasoned.

“FINE!”

“YES!” I thought.  “Victory! I have defeated the strong man with constant bantering!”

We arrived at the McDonalds and ordered according to the guidelines laid out for us by our parents.  We were to share fries and share a drink and we had to settle for burgers wrapped in red paper instead of the yellow paper because the cost of cheese was too much to add.    

We received our food and began to eat while my dad began to write out the check.

“Oh, I am sorry sir…we don’t accept checks.”

“That’s all I have to be able to pay.”

“I am sorry, but we can’t accept checks.”

The next thing I know is that a burger is being ripped out of my mouth by my father and thrust back into the hands of the McDonalds workers…who slid the remainder of our order into a nearby trash can.

We left the restaurant, hungrier than we had entered.

I see a number of parallels to temptations in life through events like this.  I see Satan attack in much the same way as I attacked my father.  He hits us with the relentless temptations…over and over until often we cave to the pressure; only to find that what we thought would satisfy is ripped from our tongue leaving us more depraved and unsatisfied than we had begun.

Yet, thanks be to God who has set before us the great treasure of eternal life by faith in the grace of Jesus Christ, which is even better than the roast beef of Old Country Buffet.

May we come to see the temptations that the enemy lays out before us for what they are…empty unfulfilling promises. May week seek the Lord in prayer (Matthew 6:13) to lead us away from those temptations and into the plans that He has for us.

I’ll Pay for It

I remember the first time that I met my father-in-law.  It was in early May and I was just finishing up my Sophomore year of college…though I had already 3 years under my belt.  I can’t help it…it is in my over achieving nature. He was coming to pick up his daughter from her first year of college and I was going to meet the father of the prettiest girl in school. 

I first laid eyes on him as he stepped out of a 1997 Ford Expedition.  It was a Thursday afternoon, and I noticed his white beard, his comb over and his khaki pants.  I soon discovered that he wore khaki pants every Thursday…and every Tuesday…and every other day of the week that ended in “y.”  In fact, when he sat in this behemoth of a vehicle you couldn’t tell where his pants ended and the khaki colored seats began. 

He greeted me and I met his wife who was the bearer of the identical image this man’s daughter who I had been “seeing” for the past 3 months. He invited me into the dark green SUV.  I sat in the 2^nd row of the oversized vehicle as it rumbled into the Holiday gas station near the college.  The man stepped down out of the enormous truck and began filling the fuel tank with 87 octane unleaded gasoline.  The unit drank in nearly 30 gallons of fuel and cost a mere $27.  The 4.6L V8, as with any V8 consumes gas like a high school boy swallows pizza.  

He finished his filling…stepped back into the vehicle and stated, “Wow! 50 miles per gallon, that’s down a little bit from last time…must have been the headwind.”

The overarching irony of this man was perhaps the paradox of his amazing generosity, coupled with his intense frugality, of which has been known to be called “cheap” in certain circles.  He had a history of conservative fiscal discernments, which included buying “used” spark plugs and infamously ordering 1 large beverage and 4 empty cups to quench the intense thirst of his then four young children from a McDonalds drive through.

He proceeded to transport the four of us, himself, his wife, his daughter…and me…a panic stricken pale face northern Minnesota boy who was smitten with the beauty of his youngest offspring, to Old Chicago Restaurant in Minnetonka, Minnesota. Old Chicago was a casual but expensive pizza place, at least comparative to the only other pizza place I visited, which was Pizza Hut.  Not because I liked Pizza Hut better…but rather because I worked there…and I could eat there for FREE.  I came to learn that he and I shared some of the same conservative fiscal discernments.    

The man’s daughter and I sat next to each other in the large booth while he and his wife sat across from us.  I was careful not to sit too close to the beautiful girl as the last thing that I wanted was to get on the bad side of the bifocaled authority before me.  A bearded waiter came by to take our order.  Immediately I could tell that the spectacled man liked and respected the waiter. 

“Are you all ready to order?” The waiter asked.

“Yes, we are,” the man said, “You look like an honest fellow.  I always tell my wife ‘You can always trust a man with a beard,’ isn’t that right Marilyn?”

“Just give him your order Ken.”

“Ryan why don’t you start…what will you have?”

“Oh, I don’t need anything…how about just a water…do you charge for lemon?  I’ll have some lemon if there is no charge.  Also, are these saltine crackers complementary? I will just have them.”

“What!!? This is on me…order what you want.  I will pay for it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“Then I will have a calzone…why don’t you fill it with mozzarella, pepperoni, ham, bacon, sausage…do you have any other meat in the house? Maybe some ground beef too. Maybe some mozzarella sticks too…and pie…peach pie if you have it…for dessert…and maybe a beer…I mean a root beer.”

“Anything else?”

“Hmmm…I don’t know…we’ll just start with that I guess.”

“And for you sir?” the waiter asked the beautiful girl’s father.

“Are these crackers complementary?” He asked.

Kenneth Dobert, became my father-in-law just 3 years later and I came to learn that “I’ll pay for it,” was a mantra that extended infinitely beyond that first encounter.  When there was a question of finances, you would often hear this man’s voice, “I’ll pay for it.”  He paid for innumerable things…from missionary needs and church debts, to pastors’ vehicles and hospital bills.  It was incredible to see how generous this man really was, especially in contrast to the frugalness of his nature.

I left that day with a picture of another generous man…the MOST generous man.  Ken paid for many things.  The Lord blessed him to be able to do so, yet there was one thing that he could NOT pay for in people’s lives.  He could NOT pay for their sins.  But Jesus could…and DID! I also left that day…and began to grow a beard.

The Spirit of God has continued to remind me of His grace.  He reminds me that I had a debt that I could not pay…but Jesus DID pay it. 

Because Jesus paid my debt and forgave me, I think I can now understand a little more clearly what Jesus is asking when I read, Matthew 6:12.  He has forgiven me…and because of that…I can forgive others.

May you come to ask Jesus to forgive what only he can forgive and be drawn to likewise forgive others.

 Daily Eggs

In 2003, my wife and I took a group of 23 people to Ciudad Mier, Mexico. This was not our first “rodeo.” We had each participated in several international missions experiences, some together and some individually.  This one however was unique, as to the fact that one of our team members was 3 months pregnant.  What made this excursion even more personally challenging was the fact that this pregnant and hormonal team member…was also my wife…and…we were celebrating our 3^rd wedding anniversary.  We have always enjoyed taking trips for our anniversary…like when we took 21 students to Columbus, Ohio on an overnight bus ride, not to mention the occurrence of lodging in a sewer flooded dorm room at a Mexican orphanage.   

Until this season in my life, I had been unaware of the dietary demands of a pregnant woman.  In the weeks leading up to this immersive cultural experience, I had taken to learning to minister to my pregnant wife.  Some nights I would head out to Perkins at 11:00 p.m. for fried cheese sticks and chocolate shakes, and other nights it would be to Subway for a ham and cheese sandwich.

“Why can’t I just make you a ham and cheese sandwich?” I would ask. 

“Because I want mayo!”

“I can put mayo on it…that’s not a prob…”

“I WANT SUBWAY MAYO! OK?”

“Yes, dear.”

In this event, we were approaching the Rio Grande and the U.S./Mexico border and we made a final stop in Texas.  I tended the two 15 passenger vans, adding fuel, checking oil and kicking the tires of the two vehicles and an 8x12 foot trailer packed with luggage, tools and instruments.  While I ensured the vehicles to be travel worthy, the rest of the team entered the convenience store to purchase any last minute snacks.  I was just closing the hood and counting heads, when our ministry coordinator, Rick, approached me in a panic and cried, “Ryan! Your wife needs you!”

“What!? Why!? What’s up?”

“I don’t know! But she is standing in the middle of the store crying!”

“What did you say to her Rick?”

 “Nothing!...Really…Just that if she can’t find anything to eat here in an American convenience store I don’t know what she is going to do when we get to Mexico!”

“Hmmm…apparently they don’t have Subway mayo.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

I went inside and found my wife standing in the middle of the store revealing all emotions known to mankind.  I went to her and attempted to sooth her…mostly unsuccessfully.  We navigated the store and finally were able to purchase a number of items to hopefully help satisfy her prenatal impulsions.  With our experience in cross cultural opportunities we felt confident in what we would encounter.

Our first meal at the orphanage was a breakfast consisting of unseasoned scrambled eggs and runny refried beans, followed by a supper of unseasoned eggs and runny beans.  The next day’s menu was different, as it consisted of runny refried beans and unseasoned scrambled eggs and to mix it up for supper we had scrambled beans and runny eggs.  Each meal of each day was the exact same and after 10 days of cramming down the high protein enriched meal…I…and NOT…my pregnant wife…was struggling.  My gag reflex was going overtime as I wretched with each bite.  I normally liked both eggs and beans, but by this time, my prayers had become “give me this day…my daily cheeseburger…with bacon and fries…and a coke,” as opposed to bread!

I felt guilty for my lack of appreciation, especially when my gestational wife was not having the same struggle.  I felt like the whining Israelites of Exodus 16 and Numbers 11, when they complained about their daily bread…the manna from heaven and asked for meat.  Yet, God provided for them, even giving to them what they had requested. Imagine my humility when on the next day I found sliced frankfurters on my plate…mixed in with the scrambled eggs and runny beans.  It was like…like…quail from heaven.  The salty goodness of the franks was like magic in my mouth. “Thank you Lord!”

Our God is indeed a gracious God.  I cannot fully understand His love and mercy for me and why he chooses to bless me so richly, yet he does.  I am still learning how to pray and how to ask Him for what I need.  Matthew 6:5-13, tells us that he knows what we need even before we ask of it…yet he longs to have our hearts aligned with his in prayer as we request it.  Thus I will pray, “Lord, give me my daily bread…or eggs…and maybe an occasional frankfurter.”

May you come to seek the Lord’s provisions as your heart aligns with His in prayer.

 Hitch

 

Recently, I have become aware of a concept that boggles my mind.  This new idea appears to be more than just an impractical objective; I would describe it as an utter, non-functioning impossibility.  The target is “hitchless towing.”  The thought is that a vehicle can tow a boat trailer or a camping trailer…without…being connected to a vehicle. 

Huh? How does that work?  I guess the answer is…wirelessly.  My immediate counter thought would take into consideration how many times my cell phone drops calls, looses Bluetooth or can’t find a wifi signal.  Scary!

I did some looking online and I did in fact find Toyota is making efforts in this technology.  In their demo videos, you see two identical minivans traveling the road.  The vehicle behind, is in reality being “towed”…wirelessly…by the vehicle in front.  At first glance my reaction was, “This is the dumbest concept in the history of mankind.”

Then I remembered a recent road trip with four children sitting behind me.  My mind suddenly saw the brilliance of this idea.  The kids can ride in the second vehicle and the parents in the front vehicle.  Wonderful!

Now, if I could just get my hands on two identical vehicles that have this technology implemented, but then, who would make me a sandwich from the cooler in the back while I drive.  That’s a deal breaker…not to mention the impracticality of the costs. 

Honestly, I would be incredibly apprehensive about “hitchless towing.”  Whether it is a vehicle following the one I am driving, pulling a boat to the lake or a camper being pulled to a campsite, I want to have a solid connection.  I guess a “wireless” connection seems convenient, but I desire something a bit more substantial. 

As I have continued to learn to follow Christ, this is how I see prayer.  Prayer connects me to God.  In many ways we want our Christian lives to become as easy and convenient as possible, like sitting in a vehicle being wirelessly towed by another, enjoying the mind numbing entertainment of video screens soaking up my brain cells.  Sure that sounds relaxing, but it does not sound desirable.

What I want is connection…real solid connection with God Almighty…The Father…The One with the Hallowed Name.  Prayer is that connection.  Like locking down the hitch to the 2” ball, with safety chains and wire-harness set to go.  I want to follow where the Lord is going.  He gets to decide and I get to follow.  His Kingdom Come…His will be done…on earth as it is in Heaven (Matt. 6:10).

May you be connected to God in prayer as your prayers align your heart with the heart of God’s heart.

Emptied

My wife made me aware of two occurrences…both similar. My son exclaimed, “Ugh! Why do I do that!? I don’t even WANT to do that!?”

“What are you talking about? You don’t want to do what?”

“Give away all of my money!”

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“I keep giving away all of my money!”

This is a striking statement coming from a young man who is just as frugally minded as both his mother and father.  I have been known to buy several items, use them, only to return them, (note: they are still in like new condition).  For some people, generosity just comes naturally, like my father-in-law.  He was perhaps the most generous man that I have known, constantly giving to those in need, often anonymously.

This situation with my son caused my wife to pause, so she questioned farther. “What do you mean? When are you giving all of your money away?”

“I just did it again! I emptied my wallet and gave all of my cash t Alba…the sponsor child from youth group.”

“Oh! Well, I think that’s great Isaac! But, you said, ‘again,’ when else have you done that?”

“Last September…when those guys from Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge came…I emptied my wallet and gave all I had then too!  I hate that! But I can’t help it! Why do I keep doing that!?”

“Maybe it’s the Lord’s leading…maybe it’s a gifting of the Spirit.”

I don’t share that story to in anyway bring praise to my son.  If anything it ought to bring shame to me, because I tend to resist such responses.  What does strike me is the picture of Jesus.  Jesus gave so much more.  These past few weeks of advent I keep thinking of what Jesus gave up to come to us…to be with us.

Jesus had everything…and he gave it ALL away.  He didn’t just give what was in his wallet…he gave it all.  He gave up his amazing, glorious throne in heaven and, instead,  took up a borrowed feed trough.  He gave up his home to live on this earth without a home.  He left heaven to enter a world where he would know hunger, poverty, pain, suffering, betrayal, thirst and everything else this world promises.

Why? Why was he willing to give it ALL up? Because of love, and because he loves us…you and me…he not only gave it all up (Phil. 2:7)…but then offers everything that he gave up…to us.  He invites us into the full inheritance (2 Cor. 8:9) that one day we can spend eternity with him and without hunger, poverty, pain, suffering, betrayal and thirst.

May you come to see the love that Jesus has for you, and all that he gave up for you because of that love.

The Demerit

For hundreds of year teachers have faced numerous challenges in the realm of education.  Educators must navigate the paths of curriculum, relationships and the treacherous uncertainties of classroom management…namely…discipline.  In my experience of educational exhaustion, countless strategies of discipline have been implemented on my behalf.  I have been lectured, yelled at, sent to the principal’s office, hugged, ridiculed, given detention and others…except “paddling.” Interestingly however, I recall that in my physical education teacher’s office there was a residual paddle with names written on it from its history of a disciplinary instrument.  I can only be left to assume that each name written on that paddle represented a backside of a misbehaving junior high school student who needed to be put back into line at some point in the paddle’s storied past.  Fortunately for me, I lived at a time after the allowance of the use of paddles.  Some schools allow the usage of “demerits” as a disciplinary strategy.

A demerit is a tally mark of wrong doing. If you happen to misbehave in class, you would receive a demerit.  If you turn in your assignment late, you receive a demerit.  If you run in the halls or call Alice Allison a name like Acne Alice, you get a demerit.  They just keep adding up.  My wife once received 10 demerits in her high school for passing a note when the entire class was warned that there was to be “NO TALKING.”  In fairness to her…passing a note was not talking. Even so, shame on her…times 10.

I am thankful that I have not kept track of the acts of shame that I have committed in my life.  If I had a light for every act of shame in my life, I’ll bet I could light up the annual Rockefeller Christmas in midtown Manhattan. 

Jesus is the central figure of Christmas.  It’s not Santa Claus or the Grinch.  It is not Mary or Joseph or the shepherds or even the angels. It is Jesus.  Why?  Because this is the moment when God takes the incredible love that he has for the world and gives to it…Jesus, (John 3:16).  Why is that such an act of love? It is because Jesus brings two of the greatest gifts known to mankind.  The first gift is that he takes away our demerits, (1 John 3:5).  He takes away our sins, our shame…our wrong doings.  Yet, there is a second gift…as if the first isn’t great enough.  He also, gives to us…all of HIS merits.  He takes away our yuck and gives to us all of His goodness and righteousness, (Romans 4:24).

May we come to reflect on the real gifts of Christmas this year!

Hand Warmers

I remember my first year of deer hunting in the Minnesota Northwoods.  November weather in Minnesota is a vacillating conundrum of confusion.  One day you may find yourself sun bathing in 64 degree sunny weather, while the next day you are wondering where you left your wool socks and rabbit fur trapper hat from two days ago.  

A young boy’s first day of deer hunting is an important day in his growth to adulthood, almost as important as the day of his birth or his wedding day.  I remember many of the important days of my life including my 21^st birthday, when a bunch of my friends took me out to a local place and we consumed an exorbitant amount of…cheese.

On this first day of progressive manhood, my dad woke both my older brother and I up at 4:00 a.m. and made us start getting dressed right away.

“Hey you two, get up and get dressed.  Be sure to wear warm clothes, it is supposed to be cold and it looks like we got about 10 inches of snow last night.”

“What about breakfast?”

“You don’t need breakfast.”

“But I am hungry”

“Have a bowl of cereal then, but be quick about it.”

I poured some sugarless Wheaties into a Styrofoam bowl followed by the milk which came out of the carton in clumps of icy slush.

After breakfast I pulled on my long underwear which was too small for my legs, followed by three pairs of socks and 2 shirts and some holey blue jeans.  I then donned an old green snowmobile suit covered in patches and holes.  I slid my feet into the barely insulated rubber boots that were 3 sizes too large, which gave me room to grow…too much room to grow, but the extra socks helped to take up the extra space.  I shouldered on an orange vest, an orange hat and some thin orange mittens, and finally stepped out of the camper and into the cold Minnesota forest.  The wind slapped me in the face like an icy wet dish rag.  I sank into the depth of snow and fell forward onto my hands and knees.  My mittens were instantly full of snow and my hands simultaneously became ice cubes.

My dad had packed for me a set of charcoal heated hand warmers and 1 book of matches.

“Light these when you get cold” He directed.

I was cold now, but I waited.  We trudged through the deep snow and my dad dropped me off at my stand.  I crawled up onto the platform while it was still as dark as pitch.  I could not find the matches to light my hand warmers so I waited the 65 minutes until daylight, getting colder each minute.  At daylight I found the matches and began to…attempt the lighting of the charcoal stick for the hand warmer.  I struck match after match trying to light the hard fuel stick only to have each small flame flicker out by the winter wind.  My fingers were stiff with cold and stung like the needling stingers of wasps.  It did not take long before my matches were gone, the entire book…empty.

Sitting there, hopeless and cold, I struggled to know what to do.  After pondering my predicament for a whole 60 seconds or more, I crawled down from my stand and walked to my dad’s stand at about 8:00 in the morning…maybe 90 minutes into the open shooting hours of the opening day. 

“What are you doing!” My dad shouted in a whisper!

“Do you have any more matches?”

“What!?”

“Matches…I need more matches…I can’t get my warmers lit.”

“It’s opening morning!”

“Do you have any matches?”

He tossed me down another book of matches and when I made my way back into my stand, my frozen fingers were finally successful in lighting my charcoal hand warmers…and I was happy…at least my hands were happy.  The rest of me was still cold. 

It wasn’t until later that night, when we got back to the camper and we ate a hot supper of hot dogs, beans and root beer, that the rest of me found some “happiness.” In fact, after my dad lit the camper furnace and I crawled under my sleeping bag I went from happy to something deeper than happy.

Christmas often reminds me of how much our life we spend trying to be “happy.”  I see happiness as being like a hand warmer.  It heats up… it warms our hands…at least for a while.  Yet the rest of our bodies remain cold.  Then the hand warmer wears out and we are left seeking happiness again. 

Joy is different.  Joy is sustaining.  Joy doesn’t burn out.  Joy is deeper than happiness.  Joy is like sliding under the warm covers on a cold Minnesota night, while happiness is trying to warm your entire body with a cup of hot cocoa. 

On that first Christmas the angels appeared and proclaimed, “Good news of great JOY which will be for all the people!” May the depth of that reach you this Christmas! Good news of great JOY! Some of the packages under your tree may bring some happiness this Christmas, but only the Good News of Jesus can bring the Great JOY! Joy can ONLY come from the Spirit of Christ.

May you find Great Joy! This Christmas!