is there sex in heaven?...

For those of you who do not know who Peter Kreeft is, he is a professor of philosophy at Boston College.  He is Catholic in upbringing and education, but his writings have blessed my life in the past.  His book Three Philosophies of Life challenged my theology and helped me see this life of faith in new ways...

Anyway, I was perusing his site and found this old article he wrote entitled Is there sex in Heaven? I am not sure if you have ever thought about how sex, humanity, and heaven all work (or do not work) together; but this was an interesting read that might provide some fodder to contemplate. There are some things in this article that I am not sure how to process emotionally or mentally.  But it is helping me seek God's heart more in the arena of life.  Let me know what you think...

the Shepherd of the sheep... a poem by D. Case

The poem below was penned by my friend's dad who is suffering in the hospital with/from cancer.  His perspective is humbling, and his faith inspires me. The picture is of him a few days ago (picture and poem used by permission)...

The road is often narrow

and the path is often steep,

but my heart will rest by peaceful streams
with the Shepherd of the sheep.

Rejoice my soul in valleys

and fields of lily white,

The morning star will soon appear

and chase away the night.

Take wing ye burdens to that lonely hill,
and cast thy yoke beneath the tree
where His blood is flowing still.

So be strong my heart and praise Him 
when waters are so deep,
The path you trod is quite well known
to the Shepherd of the sheep.

a word no one really likes...

Being a parent of two kids three-years-old and younger I have come to savor those moments of quick compliance from the aforementioned munchkins. Yet, this idea of how they listen and respond has captured me lately. This thought process provokes much in me in regards to a word that I learned to perceive as ugly over the years. Actually, it seems to be a word no one really likes... The word is obedience.

Reading books by Christian authors about raising kids can be a very spiritually introspective endeavor. Never did I think it would be the cause of such self-consternation. Much of the mental fodder has been produced by the book Shepherding a Child's Heart by Tedd Tripp. The author's definition of obedience is very clear and frankly a bit unnerving. He says, "obedience is the willing submission of one person to the authority of another. It means more than a child doing what he is told. It means doing what he is told - without challenge, without excuse, without delay."

For those of you less rebellious at heart this may not be a difficult concept. For those of you with my penchant for wanting to do things on my terms this definition can leave one undone. The first sentence is something I get, and I appreciate. In terms of my followership of Jesus, all in all, I would say I am moving toward an every moment life consuming submission to HIM.

But even though that is where I am moving, it doesn’t mean that I move well. The second part of his definition shows where my obedience is found wanting. The terms of “without challenge, without excuse, without delay” add up to a demanding standard for obeying God. I’ll be honest I do ok on “without excuse”. I am better when it comes to “without delay”. But when it comes time to ante up “without challenge”… yikes! I fail miserably.

In my life I have come to realize I am a person who questions things the first time around – shoot, I’ll even question it the second time just for good measure. I am sorry to say I have done/do this with the Lord. Even though I know God is Sovereign; there are often moments when I question His sanity, because the ways He chooses to move often do not make sense to my finite mind. Therefore, I hedge at times in doing what I feel He may be asking in the moment.

Hold up a second, I guess I have to retract a prior statement. Because I do tend to challenge, I see that there is a delay in the way I respond to God. And because I delay I line up the arguments of why I may not have obeyed in the moment… hmmm, sounds like more excuses. I guess I am not the man I would like to think I am.

The more I look at the terms of this type of obedience – without challenge, without, excuse, without delay – I am forced to confess I can’t do it on my own.

Because of this my thoughts have been forced back to John 15. Christ knows that in my humanity I can’t do it, and so He states this reality. In verse 5 He says, “I am the vine you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” Then after helping me see I can’t do it on my own He talks about obedience! In verse 10 He says, “If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and remain in His love.” For this statement to come after the previous seems so cold and relentless. For the longest time I loathed myself because I didn’t understand this passage. According to this passage I need to obey to remain/abide in His love. Well, how am I supposed to obey if I can’t do anything?

As I have gotten older the Lord has allowed me to see this passage through different lenses. Verse 5 for so long left me feeling frustrated. I know can’t do squat, but for Christ to say it left me feeling like I got kicked in the groin. Since then, thankfully, my perspective has matured. Now I see that in verse 5 Christ grants me freedom to be ok with my ineptitude. The way He clearly communicates my inability to do anything with out Him allows me to embrace my brokenness and empowers me to seek more of HIM.

The fact is I am a child of God at the price of a blood that was not my own. I was not able to muster up anything that could/would bridge the atrocity of the sinful mess I am to reconcile me to the Holy, Loving God Almighty! So, if it took this to start the relationship, why do I strive as if the onus on remaining in fellowship is solely mine? If it started with HIM, it needs to continue with HIM. If this whole thing started simply by His grace than we must be sustained in the same vein!

The older I get the more I see that the untenable standard called obedience is something more beautiful than what I once perceived as an ugly list of do’s and don’ts. Obedience is God’s greatest call to and experience of His sustaining grace in my life. This call of obedience forces me to choose submission to the Holy Spirit every moment. Obedience leads me to a place where dying to my self is the best (and only reasonable) option; for as I obey I remain/abide in His love. And if you think about this, this in itself is a gift. This obedience to which I am called brings about more of my transformation into His life for my own good so that I might be used more for His glory.

The onus is not on me to manufacture but to remain. Remain in the place that allows me to know and feel my desperate need for the One who bought me at the price of His blood. Remain in the place where He becomes my Everything as I embrace that I have nothing. Obedience is the call to remain and be sustained by grace; it’s no longer just a word no one really likes.

a message for those who minister...

For those of you who minister to people (whether formally or informally) this "charge" given by N.T. Wright to a group being ordained is humbling. This charge is based on 1 Corinthians 1:18-2:5. The profundity found in this simple wisdom is freeing and empowering. Click here to read the transcript. Be blessed!

parks, poop, and public restrooms... a father's tale

A couple of weeks ago I was forced to come to terms with the reality that I am not the "cool dad" I thought I was. Mommy had to work and I had the kids for the night. So, in all my genius I thought I would take the kids to Mingo Park. That is a local park in our town that must have been designed by engineers who were either completely discontented as kids by a simple teeter totter; or, more likely, they were tripping on acid when they drew up the plans for this playground area.

Anyway, with this brainchild of mine before me I began to pack up the kids. I had my two and a half year old daughter, Vera, go to the bathroom. While she was doing that I changed Jonah's, my 14-month-old son, diaper. She sounded like she had unleashed Niagara Falls in the toilet, while I changed his "soiled" diaper. In that moment I thought I was golden. After both were done, I let them run around a bit while I did the dutiful dad thing of packing an extra set of clothes and snacks. When all was completed, off we went.

When we got to the park we snagged a bench and set our stuff down. As the three of us ran up the entrance ramp to the playground I noticed a foul stench emanating from the nether regions known as my son's bum. I couldn't believe it! I lifted the boy up to confirm and my gag reflex began to kick in as I did. All the while Jonah just smiled.

So, I told Vera to go play while I changed Jonah on the grass next to our bench. Even though the changing of poop filled diapers in public like that may be un-kosher to some, I chose that route to allow visibility of Vera as she kept playing. As people passed the reactions covered the spectrum - the glares of "how dare he!" to "aww, that's so cute!" After finishing up something dawned on me. Vera had stopped jabbering and running and all I could see was the top of her head peaking out over one of those tic-tac-toe walls. The following dialogue went something like this...

Me: "Vera, you ok sweetie?" Silence... "Vera, you ok?"
Vera: "Yeah, dad... (Insert long uncomfortable pause). Daddy, I pooped."
Me: "Did you already poop or do you need to poop?"
Vera: "Daddy, I pooped. And I need to poop some more"
Me: "Yikes."

So, the three of us walked over to the public restroom. Now there are all sorts of things I could say at this point, but the fact is there is no redeeming value in talking about the condition of a men's restroom at a park. I am sure you understand what I mean.

Anyway, I put Jonah down next to me to help Vera out of her sullied underwear. He watched us for a second then bolted toward the urinals. Considering that all the liquid I could see in the urinals were a brownish yellow hue the scenario playing out before me was not good. So, with one hand already helping Vera balance as she was trying to carefully remove the dirty undie, I snag one of his arms with my free hand. He stopped dead in his tracks. Then as soon as he felt me relax he lunged forward. Thankfully he's only one so once I tightened my grip he couldn't get any further. As she continued to step, oh so carefully, out of her dirty skivs I managed to get him into a position I could carry him comfortably.

After that we threw away the underwear. Our next task was to get her to the toilet to help her finish "the deed". The first two stalls were... what's the best way to say this? Full! The third was empty, but it had that look. You know "that look". It's the look that says if one were to make skin contact with the seat that person would become intimately acquainted with scabies. I looked around for one of those seat cover dispensers, but, of course, none could be found.

The funny thing is even my daughter at the age of two seems to have developed sensibilities to how toilets should look. She looked at me as if to say, "I am not sitting on that thing." So, while holding Jonah in one arm I lifted her up and helped her stand on the seat. Still holding my arm she safely balanced herself and then carefully squatted over the pot.

Thankfully she was ready and she dropped off the remaining kids at the pool in less than a minute. Vera got so excited that she started squealing as only a two-year-old girl can. Jonah just stared quizzically trying to figure out what was so exciting. Now, as truly awkward as that moment was, I couldn't help but laugh. Soon, all three of us were laughing as we stood there in the stall cleaning up. After a minute of that, we walked out of the stall, got new underwear on the girl, washed our hands, and then raced toward the entrance ramp to the playground once more.

When people talk about father hood they don't talk about moments like these; we should, but we don't. I can clearly say that even though it wasn't pretty or perfect, we got through it - together. Even more so, amidst all the craziness of that instance I couldn't help but be humbled by my inadequacy. I don't know how mothers make it look so easy! The truth is that even something as inane as this event has clearly shown me how much I need Jesus to get through each day - especially the ones involving parks, poop, and public restrooms.