Autopilot

I am reading about two young ladies who are sailing around the world solo. One of them had to stop to have some repairs made on her autopilot, so she lost the "non-stop" part of her attempt. To put it all in a sentence, she was trying to become the youngest girl to sail solo around the world non-stop. The media made a big deal about her losing her shot at that, but only the 'non-stop' part is out, the rest has not changed.

Here are the links - one of these young ladies is from Thousand Oaks, CA, the other from New Zealand.

Abby
Jessica


You can follow along with me if you would like - they have web sites, of course, with maps and photos and videos, and all that. I am not that old, but I can remember when people sailed in races across oceans, or when older people made these very same attempts - but the technology simply did not exist for minute-by-minute updates, blog updates, vlogs, sat phones, GPS systems, etc. In fact, the autopilot on board would be a vane witch simply kept you going in the same angle to the wind, but was no use at all if the wind shifted even a little bit. As a result, sailing across vast distances solo meant that you either took in sail when you had to sleep, or you didn't sleep for days at a time. Today, you can plot a course from a laptop, or input a course on a dedicated control unit with a keyboard, and the boat will respond by sailing an exact course. Some of them will even make minor changes in the rigging of the vessel as needed for wind changes, and even the most basic unit will wake you with an alarm if you go very far off course. In fact, you can chose how far off course you get before the alarm pulls you from your bed.

Where is that technology for our churches, our teaching, our personal spirituality, even our daily lives? Our nation? I would propose that WE are the autopilot. Or at least I would propose that WE are the 'alarm' portion. It is up to us Christians, and the Bible-believing churches around the world, to sound the alarm when we see our world wandering off course.

Roughing it smoothly

There are times in my life when I go off to be alone. I have a Jeep, and I like to take it out into the wild parts of Southern California by myself sometimes and scout out trails I have found in books and maps. See abandoned mines and ghost towns and such, and sit on top of mountain peaks and look out as the Eagles (or California Condors) fly by with a puzzled look on their faces.

I have a boat, and I enjoy getting it out on the water by myself. Many is the time that I have been out on the lake with not a soul around for a mile or so, drifting down some backwater canyon, spotting wildlife, watching fish feeding at the surface all around me, baking in the SoCal sun, or hiding in the shade of a tall rock wall as I drift or idle along.

But, be aware that MY version of getting 'out there' doesn't mean I leave the comforts of home behind. I spent a week in Yosemite with my daughter a couple of years ago - she hiked the backside of Half Dome while I went shopping in the Village - and I had to borrow a camp trailer from some friends so I had a real bed and a shower with me. I love to get 'out there' but I do want my technology along for the ride, thank-you very much.

And that Jeep of mine? Has power windows, AC, relining bucket seats, cloth interior, cruise control, automatic transmission, and my iPod cranks through the stereo. The boat is pretty much equipped in similar fashion as far as a boat can be: reclining seats, a shade top, an ice chest or two, and an iPod-ready stereo as well. Even has a place to charge my iPhone, and/or my laptop. The dog even has a favorite spot to nap. Yeah, let's be clear that I never said anything about 'roughing it.'

When I was a Youth Pastor a half a lifetime ago, I would be delighted to see the young people bring friends to church. But there were times when I noticed that the reason they were bringing these people was because they wanted to create a little bit of their normal (non-Christian) environment around them like a bubble, to insulate them from any chance of actually coming into contact with God. Yes, they were in church making Mom and Dad stay off their back, but they had brought their own comfort zone right along with them.

I'm sure we don't do that, do we? I mean, we would never choose a church based on the rockin' band, or choose a pastor based on how many times we laugh during a sermon, would we? No. We aren't like those kids back in my youth group, we would never tell God, "I'll give you my life, as long as I can bring my lifestyle along with me."

2 Timothy 4:3 Could NOT possibly be aimed at me - at us - could it? It says, "For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear."

Well, as a church we are about to embark on choosing a new Pastor. I hope and pray that we hear from God, and select one who can challenge us, rock us out of complacency, shatter apathy, and generally cause us to grow as our outgoing pastor has done. It doesn't always make for a comfortable experience, but I think we might want to thank God for that, and not try so hard to bring our comfort zone with us.

Local Favorites

I subscribe to Netflix. Yeah, I know. Thirty years without a television in the house, raised our two kids TV free, and now I have come to this. Forgive me, I hope I haven't let anyone down, but we have been avid movie watchers for a long time. In fact, it all started because we wanted to pre-screen any movies or other media our kids watched when they were young. And when we found a good movie - especially if it had some value in teaching morals, ethics, Biblical truths or even if it was just good clean fun - we would buy it and put it on the shelf for later viewing. Phew - I don't know why that seemed like such a confession, many of you have borrowed from our vast library of movies, so I don't know if this was a surprise to anyone. The big laugh is that I think anyone cares! Let it go Chas, let it go...

But back to Netflix - I have completely run out of ideas of movies to add to my waiting list, so they finally stopped sending me movies. It seems a shame to pay the six bucks per month (or whatever it is) and not have a movie in the mailbox now and then, so I was going through the 'suggestions' part of the Netflix web site. Wow - our society has sunk even lower than I thought! Talk about the frog in the boiling water!

And every once in a while I get a suggestion of a movie from a friend or relative. Wow. I don't know where to even begin on that topic! I forget that most everyone else on the planet has soaked their brains in the mass media for their whole life, and I hope nobody takes this as a personal slam, but the media IS aimed at about an elementary-school intellect. You know that, right? Breath Chas - breathe. Keep moving..

But the thing that I wanted to blog about today was the little tab which shows up on Netflix called "Local Favorites." I almost always watch and enjoy movies which were hated by 'the critics,' or which tanked at the box office. I even have purchased whole seasons of television shows which were canned after one season, or LESS than one season. Shows like "Firefly," and some Summer fill-in shows too. They have to have intelligent dialog, and some sort of mental challenge, and that just doesn't seem to do well with the general population these days. I just don't have the same tastes as the rest of the world, I guess. And after spending an hour this morning shopping around on Netflix, noting the high reviews of some titles and the very low reviews of others, I have come to the conclusion that the "Local Favorites" for Ventura, CA do not reflect well on this part of the world. Sorry Ventura, but you are not giving a good show of intellect, morality, purity, and certainly not holiness.

So - as Samuel Clemons once said, do I "live my life in such a way that I could give my parrot to the local pastor?" Or in today's parlance: could I post the "history file" of my web browser in my blog for all to see? If I posted the list of movies I have rented or borrowed, removing those which I only saw a few minutes of before stopping them, of course (happens a lot) what would those lists say about me?

Wow - I'm not there yet. Let me say THAT is a true confession. But I am sure aiming for it.

Philippians 4:8 says it pretty well: Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.

Mother's Day and the big toe

Well, my family gathered for a nice dinner at "Panda Express," a famously Non-Authentic Asian food place that we all love. I wasn't invited. I know! Sounds so harsh that way, doesn't it?

And our Pastor announced his resignation, on Mother's day as well.

And we had protesters carrying signs out front of the church again.

That all sounds SOOOOOOoooo severe when I type it out in such simple terms, don't you agree? But behind all that are stories. Details. Love and concern, warmth and promise.

For one - my family getting together without me was because they were in Atlanta, GA and I was in Southern California. Little detail there, and if you realize that Stephen had to fly there for business, but Hope and Kristen were willing to drive a very long way out of the way on their trip from KJ's school to Sunnee Lynn's wedding so they could get together for Mother's day, well it's actually heart-warming. My wife even dropped her huge piece of luggage on her bare toe just to prove her love for us - we all truly enjoy a good laugh now and then... She really did hurt her foot, and I am praying it is not broken or anything! I'll pass along details as I get them...

Next, our Pastor announced his resignation because God has opened up a new and exciting door for him in a way which only God could do. Our church is part of the Assemblies of God, a worldwide denomination of Pentecostal churches, and the Southern California District is one of the largest districts in the entire movement. The leadership has been in place for a couple of decades, but a change was brewing and some say it was needed - get some younger, more forward-looking folks in there. No knock on the previous administration who served so very faithfully and so well for so long, but there are times when the only change we need is just change itself.

So - there were meetings, phone calls, emails, and our pastor was considered for the position of Assistant Superintendent. This was his response - I would only leave the church here in Ventura if God called me. And I would only consider it to be God calling me if two important things came about:
1. I would need to be able to lead us back to our Spirit-Filled roots, and
2. The vote of the presbytery would have to be unanimous. That's right - 100%-

Well - the new Superintendent did in fact agree that we need a man just like Dr. Cervero to do exactly what he was offering: lead us back to our roots in Spirit-filled pentecostalism, and the vote DID in fact come in at 100% unanimous. That vote broke records going back over 25 years, BTW.

So we get to find a new pastor, a task I don't look forward to but a task we can easily trust God for help with. After all, it's His church anyway. And there have been so many good men in contact with our church over the years, and so many of them are close by or right on the edge of being or becoming available, it will be hard to thin down the list of candidates.

And Our Pastor gets to move through a door which was so very obviously opened by God just for him. And if you don't know it, our pastor is the perfect man for the job - it was almost as if God knew what He was doing (of course).

As to the protesters - we have ticked off a local man who thinks we are not radical enough in our pro-life stand. We are VERY pro-life, in case you are wondering, but we just are not radical enough for this guy. So we get protesters and very ugly graphic pictures of aborted babies on our sidewalk and driving up and down the street in front of the church on Sunday. Yes, on Mother's day too.

So - another week begins. God - help me! And I truly mean that: Lord, you are a part of the details of my life. Help me with all the things which could honor you, or which could distract me. Amen.

Feet to the fire, and other loving things a father does

Finish strong. I have heard that so many times, and I have SAID it so many times that my kids are quite tired of it. But the thing is, nobody can actually put pressure on you unless you allow them to.

Example - God has a standard. A way of living which honors him. I just read 1Timothy chapters 2-5 and believe me, there is a standard of Godly living. But God doesn't seem to strike us from the face of the earth if we do not live that way. Old Testament nations did have that unhappy end from time to time, but not so today. No, instead, if we call ourselves by the name of Christ and if we are in a loving relationship with Him we put the pressure on ourselves. How so? We want to please our heavenly father.

That - of course - is the most intense pressure of all, is it not?

The card game

Yesterday I wrote about a life - changing moment in the life of my family which revolved mostly around my daughter. She was just a little girl at the time. Today I want to visit a moment in time which happened with my son. Stephen was little at the time - I don't know how old he was exactly, but I'm pretty sure that Kristen didn't exist yet so he had to be less than six years old.

Stephen and I were playing a card game. It's not important to the story, but we were driving along in an RV at the time - Hope was driving - and we were sitting at the dinette just behind her. I was losing the game, big time. I wanted to grab something from the kitchen, or use the restroom or something - don't recall exactly what, but it took me away from the game for a moment. Stephen offered to shuffle, and I though that would be fine. But as I was only a few feet away, I glanced over his shoulder and noticed that he was stacking the deck. Yup. Pure, innocent little lad was setting me up! His little cute hands and his little cute head were so focused on the task that I stood and watched until he had it all set. Then I came back to the table and he smiled.

Well, what happened next is one of those 'moments.' I don't know if it defined anything, but I have used it as a sermon illustration, and told it so many times now that poor Stephen wishes it had never happened. But it did. We began to play the hand. But as soon as the cards were dealt out, I pointed out the window and got Stephen to look away for just long enough for me to swap hands with him. I was all proud of myself, I thought I was going to teach him a lesson here.

But to my amazement, he began to win again. This was funny, I thought. It didn't take a mind-reader to see that Stephen was truly puzzled at the fact that he was winning as well, something was 'up.'

Well, we finished the hand and he had absolutely beaten me by a bunch. It was coming to the moment of truth - and as he looked at me and confessed that yes, he had in fact stacked the deck, a warm feeling of love began to come over me for this kid. This large, fuzzy, warm, loving, hug-machine of a boy which God blessed us with:

When I switched hands, I had indeed blown it. Because...

He had stacked the deck so daddy would win.

The color of love, and other things.

You know how there are moments in your life which define you? And moments in your life when you know, you just know, that your life will never be the same. Well, this is the story of one such moment. I wish I could recall the exact time and place, but I can't. Because moments like these are not important because of the numbers on a calendar or the time and place. They are important because from them, there can never be, will never be, any going back.

My family consists of my wife and our two kids. Our son is our oldest, and our daughter came along when he was six years old. That's a good spa: six years. More than some, less than others. It worked real well in our case. But this moment I'm writing about was a long time coming. And our daughter, Kristen Joy, had everything to do with it.

You see, my father was color blind. Like most color blind folks, he had one or two week colors, and he was good with other colors. So, as my wife and son watched me pick odd colors to paint rooms, or to upholster couches, or as they saw me stop and ask what color a card was when we were playing a game, they just began to assume that I had inherited Papa's shortcoming. It was obvious. But it was also not true. I have perfect color vision. I just don't happen to agree with what color goes with what, and that has always been the case.

So this one particular moment - we had invited our little baby girl into the world that was the Wolf family. Being "Raised by Wolves" is really not such a bad thing. She was the darling of her mommy, her daddy, and her big brother right from the start. She stole our hearts, and I think I could forgive her anything. Anything. But back to the moment in question: we were playing some table game. She was just so very young at the time, so I guess it was some very simple game. But at one point I had to make a simple choice. I had to go with the blue, or the green. It was so simple. I made my choice, and I called it. But I guess I must have been pointing at green when I said "blue," because everything stopped and all eyes were on me. I looked from one face to another, and I began to see that there was a problem.

I pointed to a nice sea-green vase on the shelf and said, "THAT's a sort of a blue, right?"

Silence.

I pointed to several other objects around the room which, to me, drifted between the pure blue and the honest green. "That?" I asked, "that?"

"No daddy," said my son, shaking his head as if he had just told somebody they had four months to live.

I looked at him to see if he was kidding around. No. I looked at my wife. A look of sorrow met my gaze, but no humor. This was it. This was the moment. Whatever happened next would determine if I was out or in as far as this family was concerned. Whatever happened next would set the stage for the special relationships this daddy and his kids would share for the rest of eternity. Whatever happened next would set the stage for the life and happiness of this alpha male for decades. Decades!

And so it happened - I finally gathered my courage, and looked into the pleading eyes of my little girl. This was that moment. My life was about to be altered in such a profound way that I couldn't even begin to imagine at that moment, and now, almost twenty years later I still don't know if I have a handle on it. But..

I looked into her eyes, pointed at the bluish - greenish thing, and said, "blue?"

For such a young, innocent face to take on such a look of deep regret, you would think it had to be fully aware of what was really taking place. But there is no way such a young child could know. Could she? I still have no answer all these years later, but I will never - as long as I live - forget her sad, sorrowful look as she reached out and took my big rough hand in her tiny, smooth one and said,

"Well, it's a type of blue, daddy."