I was first alerted to this video via Strong Fathers.
It’s worth a listen to…
I was first alerted to this video via Strong Fathers.
It’s worth a listen to…
I’ve been trying to get into shape for a multiplicity of reasons. One of my little goals was to run the Fort Worth – Mayfest 5K.
Please understand, I am not a runner.
The last time I ran anything that looked like a mile was back in college.
I dislike anything that even hints at cardio!
But, the Mayfest 5K became one of my goals.
For some reason I hadn’t signed up for it. I hadn’t put down my $20 entry fee. I had talked about it with my in-laws a few weeks before, even talked about getting a team together.
Yet, I still hadn’t signed up for it.
I had just finished working out in the gym, was changing clothes in the locker room when their was breaking news on the wall TV. Two bombs had been exploded at the Boston Marathon.
I was stunned. Utterly stunned.
I remember going home, and not even wanting to turn on the TV. I knew that it would be all over the networks, and I was right. You couldn’t turn to any single channel and not find that one clip being shown over and over again.
I ended up feeling sick, then feeling numb.
After sitting there for an indeterminate amount of time, I knew what I had to do.
I had to sign up for the Mayfest 5K. I just had to do it. I couldn’t not do it.
I got online and registered. Put my entry fee on my card. Received my receipt in an email.
That was it. I was signed up. I even made a team! It’s team “PuG.” (Pick up Group).
I promptly texted my family members and friends that said they might want to run as well. I gave them the name of the team; and now I’m hoping that they are able to get off of work and run with me.
My question for you is, will you run too?
Will you run with me (assuming your in Fort Worth)?
Will you run something, somewhere?
Let’s let the bad guys know that they can’t win. We won’t let them win.
If you happen to be in Fort Worth during Mayfest (May 2-5), please consider running. Join me in running the 5K. If you want, join my team : PuG
PuG stands for Pick up Group. It’s a gaming term, where random individual players are thrown together to accomplish a group goal.
Let us run.
Let us run, not because we are scared; but because we are free.
Let us run, not in spite of; but because of.
I’m running. Will you?
I’ve always wanted to minister to military families.
To be honest, I think I suffer from no small amount of hero worship for those in the military, police, and fire/rescue. I don’t deny it. Instead, I try to embrace it. These people choose to put themselves in harms way to save other people.
They deserve more than just our respect.
They deserve our active concern.
We should take care of them. Period.
Our church is less than a mile from the Naval Air Station and Joint Reserve Base (NAS-JRB). In the past 10 years, no one from the base has ever entered into our church. We are separated by a lake, numerous stop lights, high ways, bridges, etc. If I was stationed there, I would want an easier church to get to as well.
Still, I’ve always wanted to minister to an active military family. To serve them in this fashion would be a true honor and labor of love.
It just doesn’t happen.
But, one thing does. You see, our church (and our house which is only a block away) is directly in the landing/take off path of the NAS-JRB runway. I see planes landing and taking off all of the time!
This is my Pilots Ministry: Every time I see or hear a plane flying over head, I pray for those pilotes. Heck, I even pray for the mechanics that work on those planes! Mostly though, I pray for those pilots, in those planes, at those times. It’s gotten to the point, I can tell you if it is a Naval plane or Air Force plane by the sound of their engines!
Still, they need our prayers.
It is our privilege to pray for them, even if we never meet them.
They are ours, and they deserve our best.
Oh, and if you see someone in a military uniform having lunch, call the waiter over and ask to anonymously pay for their meal.
It would be a blessing for both of you. I know that it was for my family.
That title could just as easily read, “A Great Man of Godly Influence.” Both are just as true.
When I think of Nelson, I think of a grand ship, sailing the seas. Those of us blessed to have met him were able to get caught up in his wake of grace and mercy. I was one so blessed.
I met Nelson at church during my college years. You see, I had been convicted by the Holy Spirit for not knowing anyone outside of the college group; though I had been a member for well over two years.
One Sunday, I donned my one and only suit. Walked up to the side door to the church, and there was Nelson. He was the greeter, assigned to that door.
“Well, hello!” he said. “Are you just visiting?”
I responded, “No sir, I’ve actually been a member for a couple of years now. And that is the problem. I don’t know anyone in the church. Can I stand here and greet with you, maybe get to know some of the other members?”
Not only did he let me greet with him, but he told me about everyone who came through that door. He seemed to know everyone!
This began a two year long friendship, where he mentored me in ministry.
Nelson was a deacon, and apparently got to take part in hospital visitation per his duties. One day, he asked me to go along.
I was horribly frightened, but jumped at the chance to spend some time with him.
I remember his advice to this day. “Tim, there are two things to remember when visiting in the hospital. First, don’t step on any cords or tubes. Watch where you step. There will be cords and tubes everywhere. Secondly, you don’t have to say a thing.”
You know what, he was right.
I ended up training and working part time as a hospital chaplain for about four years. He was spot on.
When he found out I was friends with another member of our church, and elderly retiree from the mission field. He made sure to invite me to go visit him in the hospital as well.
Nelson taught me what it meant to care for others, by caring for them in front of me. He lived out what it means to be a Christ follower. I can only imagine how many other young men and women got caught up in his wake as well. Each of us touched by God’s grace and mercy, lived out in the life of Nelson Turnbow.
I hear this quite a bit.
I’ve actually seen this take other forms as well, but this is the most common question in my experience.
I’ve also heard it as a regular sentence, such as “God is just…”
That tends to be followed by “…testing us.”
This is where I begin to get a bit perturbed.
You see, I often hear this when someone is sick. It isn’t the sick person saying this, it is usually some other family member.
I’ve ran into this while working in the hospital. I’ve ran into it while being a pastor. I’ve ran into at funerals, as well as hospital visits.
I don’t like it for two reasons.
First, it’s a misconception about God.
Secondly, it’s a selfish assumption.
While there are examples in Scripture of God testing people; those tend to be the exceptions not the norm. They tend to be types of afflictions and/or persecutions that lead somewhere. They prove a point.
Scripture is quite clear that God doesn’t bring stuff onto people arbitrarily, and definitately not out of spite. Instead, most bad things that happen are biblically understood as the consequences of our actions, possible discipline of God (not a test), or as a direct result of the “World” acting antagonistically against us.
This is what really gets my goat. You see, the question is a self-centered question. Why is God doing this to ME?!
It could be the death of a beloved friend…and the question makes it about me.
It could be the serious illness of a family member…and it makes it about me.
It could be a natural disaster, terrorist attack, or aliens attacking…and it makes it all about me.
It is horribly selfish.
I just want to take the person, shake them really hard, and tell them: “It’s not about you!”
It’s about our loved one facing that horrible illnes. It’s about the family, that lost their poor child. It’s about the spouse, that lost her dear husband.
It. Is. Not. About. Us.
It. Is. Not. About. You.
So please, don’t go there.
Here is the promise that I hold onto.
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28
In this, there is the expectation that bad things will happen. It also promises that whatever it is, can be worked around for the good of those that Love the Lord, and are working out of the calling the Lord has upon their lives.
Even if I don’t understand it.
That is the kind of faith I need, when the bad stuff starts happening. Not blaming God. Not it being about me. But one that trusts he is with us, and working through the situation…even if I can’t see it.
At times, words fail me.
I wish I had a picture.
No I don’t.
The boys were… Let’s just say restless in church.
Yeah, that’s it. Restless.
We were all tired, and Sunday is a day when no one is forced to cook. We went to a local Italian Restaurant (which was really good).
How do I explain?
What words do I use?
Here’s the picture (in words).
The 2 year old is beside me, the 5 year old (and mom) is across the table.
I’m wearing a very nice shirt/tie/sweater-vest combo with slacks.
The two year old, steadies himself using my leg as a brace. The one area that isn’t covered by a napkin.
Some how, some salad dressing (wife shared with 2 yr old) ends up on my shirt. Still not sure how that happened.
Then, my wonderful child decides to “hug” dad’s arm, and give it kisses…
Yes, Pizza hands and kisses…
On my really nice shirt… and slacks.
I’ve learned, when you sit beside the child; you’re just as likely to wear his lunch as he is himself.
I’ll label this as “Things they didn’t teach you…in life.”
I’ve got two boys. Two small boys at the moment. They are both sweet and incouragable, all at the same time. Man, I love my kids.
I’m worried for them.
I’m worried for them for more than just one reason.
In the movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, there is a point that really got to me. It is at the very end. The youngest son, stands up to his mother, letting her know that THIS particular young lady was who he loved…was who he was going to marry.
She relented to their union, accepting the young lady into her family. Then she says something along the lines of:
“…but, I reserve the mother’s right to worry…”
You know what, I reserve the father’s right to worry as well.
I’m not worried about terrorists. I’m not worried about natural disasters. I’m not worried about the things that might sneak up and tag them from behind.
I can’t do a thing about those.
I’m not worried about what I can’t control, but those things that I do.
I think that I may write about some of those worries here for a little bit.
Do you worry about your children? If so, what are your worries?
For some reason, I developed the desire to make some home made tomato soup.
After a quick google, I came upon this recipe at formerchef.com. I ended up halving the recipe… sort of.
My loving wife was willing to pick up any extra needed ingredients, and I was set!
This was a first time for me. Yet, I did acquire a sense of satisfaction with finishing the project.
Here are some pics from my tomato soup experiment.
It turned out a little bit salty. Next time I eat some, I’ll probably add a little bit of milk
For a “first time” experience, I’m well pleased!