What To Do With Your Depression

Shove it. No, not in the way you think. Nor should you should shove it down.

You should shove it out into the light. Let me explain.

I counseled an old married couple in the community this morning, and at the heart of their difficulty was the fact that the husband wasn't sharing his the entirety of his struggle with depression with is wife. As a result, she had less insight into his struggle and felt helpless and out of control. This was something that my own wife called me out on early in our marriage.

Depression can be devastating, but it doesn't need to be destructive. It isn't some overbearing monster that we are powerless to fight against. It is actually quite normal. And it must always be engaged. Left unchecked, depression can ruin lives. Actively engaged, it can enrich lives. How can you turn your depression into a net positive?

1) Acknowledge it. It's not as if people don't notice. When you just tell people it's a bit of stress, or that it's just a passing phase--they know you're lying to them (or to yourself). When you look at the landscape of your life and see nothing but darkness--when you feel hopeless--then you're depressed.

2) Don't be a victim. People with depression suffer...a lot. But they aren't victims. Very few cases of depression are chemically or biologically based, and even those cases can be effectively treated. Depressed people already feel hopeless and helpless and the last the we should do is treat them as such. If you have depression, take responsibility for it. When the "black dog" (as Churchill called it) rares its ugly head, sit down, grab a pen and paper, and spell out the lies that it is telling you about your life. Take the positive data from your life and stare the dog down.

You can also engage in behaviors that limit the triggers for your depression. Go to sleep at a decent time and try to get a full night's rest. Avoid lethargy. Work extra hours at your job. Put in extra time at the gym. Get sucked into a new hobby. And don't self-medicate with alcohol!

3) Let people know. Depression thrives on privacy and imagination. When you're alone, there is no one to ask you to help with the groceries, let alone check your destructive thought patterns. You'll find that many friends and family member have or are struggling with depression. This normalizes the struggle, makes it safe to talk about, and enables you to more effectively combat it.

4) Enlist the support of several key people. This may involve some of the friends and family above, but it especially involves (1) a counselor, and (2) your spouse. There is a stigma attached to both depression and to seeking out help. Frankly, the stigma is stupid and those who uphold it are ignorant. Counselors are trained to ask you the right questions and help lead you on the right rabbit trails that will help you understand yourself better and heal. They are key allies.

Even more important than the counselor in many ways in your spouse. Your spouse may not be able to treat you in the same ways as a counselor, but he/she is your daily companion in the fight. Either they fight with you, or you hold them at arm's length and they fight against you. God has placed one person in your life to see all of the deepest, darkest parts of you. One person in your life with the charge to love you unconditionally as long as you both shall live. If you're willing to get physically naked in front of them, you should be willing to get emotionally naked as well. They know you the best and can help you the most.

5) Go to church. Not just to check the box or feel like a good person, but because you need to hear the Gospel! "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?" (Jer. 17:9) Even with positive data points, you can't will, think, or feel your way into a healthy state of mind. You need to be reminded that Jesus came for the sick, not the healthy; the sinners, not the righteous. You need to be reminded to "Set your minds on things above, where Christ is...for your life is hidden with Christ in God." (Col. 3:1-4) This heart-penetrating message, delivered point blank to your heart and those alongside of you in the pews, will transform you.

That is what I mean by "shove it." Shove your broken heart before your own eyes in acknowledgement, take responsibility for it, shove it before the eyes of others, especially those best equipped to help you, and shove it before the Throne of Grace, where your most malicious marks will be most masterfully managed.

Resting in Christ

In God's providence, He makes me take my own medicine after I offer it to others.

Just yesterday, I preached on the importance of resting by faith, just as much as walking by faith. There are times when we simply need to be reminded of the completed work of Christ and its ongoing effects so that we might find comfort in overwhelming situations.

This morning, I realized that someone from the community had left me a voicemail while I was preaching. The man said he met me at a political event (packages for soldiers) where I offered a prayer. He said that he and his wife really needed by help, preferably before the evening (that was last evening!).

I panicked. I was watching my boy while my wife was working out. I couldn't even call the man back. While I was listening to the voicemail, my boy wanted my attention. I grew frustrated at my smart phone for not letting me know I had a voicemail, my own negligence for not checking my voicemail yesterday, and my little boy for wanting my attention when there was a pressing matter I needed to address.

When my wife came home, I was high-strung, irritable, and ready to race out the door to go to work at church. I needed to take my own medicine.

First, resign the things you can't control. You don't invest too much thought or feeling into circumstances you can't change. You have to seek contentment in such things, and focus on circumstances you can change.

Second, do this by seeing the big picture. God is sovereign (all-controlling) over all circumstances. His total control and His perfect character--most clearly manifested in the person and work of Christ--is the basis for your contentment.

Third, taking responsibility for the things you can control. You must give your "yesterdays" to the Lord and offer yourself to Him today. In this case, I needed to call the man as soon as I was able, apologize for missing his call, and ask if I could be of service.

By God's grace, the man was gracious and asked if I could visit with he and his wife tomorrow morning. I enthusiastically said "Yes!" The added perk--I get to enjoy driving by the Wisconsin snow-scape!

Before I walked through this process, I was a mess--and I spilled onto other people and things. In submitting to God's sovereignty, resigning the things I couldn't control and taking responsibility for the things I could--I found peace and a measure of the rest that Christ alone affords.

Christmas: Worst Time of the Year?

This was the topic I proposed for my "Dinner, Drinks and Deep Discussions" Meetup group last night. Christmas is often presented as the happiest time of the year, but it is also the season when depression and suicides spike. Why?

One person signed up--a young, black woman a few years older than me. Her profile announced that she was a single mother of three and was excited to have a social life again.

With that in mind, when I arrived at our site--the American Legion bar--I thought I had misfired badly. This woman, largely unfamiliar with Menomonee Falls (91.6% White with Native American coming in at number two at 3.5%), would be walking into a stuffy, downstairs bar filled with older, blue collar white men who like to hunt. I got there early and a number of the men were already slurring their speech. (Granted, I know most of these men, and care for all of them.)

I warned my new friend about the dynamics when I met her upstairs, and she didn't seem to mind. I was on pins and needles when we went down there. The reception was warm (several guys started chatting with her and she got a free drink for her first visit), but likely overwhelming. The guys talking to her (buddies of mine) were loud and didn't give her much room to speak.

I kept trying to cut in, but even my big mouth kept getting drowned out. Eventually, I was able to start directing the conversation a bit. Not the topics mind you--just the tone. A couple of the men--one older and one younger--started discussing what would bar someone from Heaven. The younger, Roman Catholic friend joined my new female friend in contending that suicide was unpardonable because there was no opportunity to repent before death. The older, Vietnam-vet friend joined me in contending that our salvation is not conditioned on our works, but on those of Christ.

Suicide is murder and is indeed a sin. But Jesus tells us that my anger is tantamount to murder (Matthew 5) and is every bit as worthy of death as murder. We are all worthy of death and damnation (me most of all!), but our salvation is not based on the quality of our repentance, but the quality of Christ's sacrifice. Two of the enduring images from Hebrews is Christ as the great high priest, always interceding on behalf of His people, and Christ as the once-for-all sacrifice, covering His people once and for all from their sins.

Pretty intense conversation to step into with a black single mom from inner city Milwaukee, and an old vet and young man with no filter from the boonies!

Well, talking about religion would obviously not be a taboo among these folks. I was thankful for that. And as I was counting my blessings, my female friend asked if she was the only person who looked like that (pointing to her skin) who came into the Legion bar. We all immediately chimed in and said "Oh, no. Bob comes in as well." Being able to name the one exception does not help.

So, of course, we started talking about race relations. My young Catholic friend started talking about how he was fed up with everybody stepping lightly around the N-word (he actually used the word). He thought the word was horrible, but also thought the only way to rob it of its power was to take away the mystique and treat it as a crass word worthy of condemnation. Good logical point. But the fact that he kept using the word made me want to curl up in the fetal position, growing up as I did in the DC area. My female friend didn't seem to mind, but engaged my Catholic friend on this issue.

He then also happened to mention that he was a skinhead, but that not all skinheads are racist. In fact, the movement was partially started by Jamaicans. Whether or not he was correct, I was feeling increasingly eager for a second drink.

But--in an incredible God way--invisible bonds were forming between these three very different people. They all discovered that they had suffered from severed relationships. The vet's wife had walked out on him and his two little children and he raised his kids alone. The young Catholic man's dad left when he was little. The young woman's kids were all born and raised out of wedlock, and the two fathers are almost entirely out of the picture. She had to raise them on her own.

I have watched "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" about twice a day over the past several days with my boy, and felt like I was watching something comparable to the changing of the Grinch's heart in that bar. I saw the older vet shed tears as he talked about how hard it was to raise his kids alone. And at the end of the discussion, my female friend said something along the lines of "I loved this. Everybody else here is a mess, and I feel like I can be myself. I would love to do this again."

She also told me that she had never known a pastor who would share a drink with people, be messy with them, and be accessible and not judgmental. Like the rest of those in our conversation, I confessed that I am sick and broken. My only hope, and my assured hope, is found in my Savior.

And for the first time, one of these events will translate into visits to the church. The old vet, who was going to do Christmas alone, will be having dinner with my family tonight and joining us at the Christmas Eve service. And while the single mom attends another church, she told me not to be surprised if she comes and visits our church after the new year. I prayed with her before she left.

Is Christmas the worst time of year? We all agreed that it is a pretty dark and broken time, but not irretrievably so. There is something about the hope of Christ that changes everything.

The Christmas season is like a black canvas, awash in the dark stains of loved ones lost, relationships ended, and dreams unfulfilled. But the blacker the canvas, the more stark that shining Star shines over sinners like us. The hope of Christ splashes light and life across the landscape. And one day, there will be no more night (Rev. 22).

Another Crazy Weekend

On Thursday, my wife got a flat tire. We have been all over the road ever since!

A dear sister from the church drove Lindsey and Tabby back to the house and drove me back to the car. I got there at the same time as the tow guy, who turned out to be a member of the Wisconsin Army National Guard, and we enjoyed a good chat as we put on the spare. On the way home, a member of a local political party invited me to come give a prayer for a gathering in which packages would be put together for deployed soldiers.

On Saturday, I prayed for the assembled gathering just before the senior Senator from the state of Wisconsin gave some off-the-cuff remarks. Our retired pastor saw my face on a local TV report on the gathering. More importantly, I was able to reach out to a number of former vets and even met a chaplain who served half a century ago! Sadly, I had to throw my business card at him as I raced home to tend to my sulky son, who was happily rehearsing for his first ever Christmas play.

Later that day, over 40 people joined us for a housewarming party. Just over 20 people came from the church, and just under 20 from the community. People from all walks of life, engaged in conversation. Beautiful! My wonderfully-introverted wife put on a Martha Stewart-like spread, and engaged folks for 5+ hours (after wrestling with the sulky son earlier in the day).

One neighbor is a recent widower and lives alone. I really hope we become close with him. I can't imagine what life would be like without my wife and little ones. Our God is so gracious to those so bereaved! May this dear man be like Anna after her long years as a widow, or Simeon when his old eyes finally beheld the Christ-child (Luke 2)!

Late in the night, I did one final run through of the second part of our "Gospel According to Ruth" series at the church. I preached on our dear sister, Ruth (from the Old Testament, between Judges and 1st Samuel), who knew the pain and brokenness of the Christian life, yet was sustained by grace through faith in Christ until she arrived in the heavenly fields of Boaz. I needed conviction and comfort from that precious passage of God's Word as much as anyone!

Last night, I watched my little boy perform in his first Christmas play. He was nearing bedtime, and mussed his hair in his fatigue. He was also surprisingly subdued, watching his flamboyant girl-friend twirl her dress through every him. And I loved every minute of it.

This was the same boy who cried in my ear as a newborn. Those same cries were haunting echoes to me as I missed most of his first year of life and the attendant joys of those many "firsts." I remember saying goodbye to him when he visited Ft. Hood with my wife, wondering if I would ever see him again. His pictures were taped all over my walls in Afghanistan. I remember the first night I saw him in Baltimore, grinning at me. That night, I turned in bed to see him standing and staring at me.

I am now a father with growing kids and I cannot wait (though I do so with natural fear and trepidation) as they grow in knowledge of and love for the Lord. May he learn through God's tender shepherding what it took me numerous hard providences to learn. May he grow in grace without the grief that finally broke me of just a few of my idols. May God give me wisdom as I join my wife in shepherding this young boy and his baby sister. We have frail hands and faint hearts. But we also have a faithful God.

Tired. Spent. Blessed.

Is Christianity A Drug?

This is drawn from a speech I gave at Toastmasters two nights ago:

"The eminent German economist, Karl Marx, once called religion an "opiate for the masses." Is he right? I would like to answer that question in two ways.

First, it can be. We come up with all sorts of "opiates" to deal with hardships in life--from the brokenness of our natures to tragedies that beset us. Religion can be a convenient way to baptize the opiates and gives us convenient ways to deal with these hardships.

Second, Christianity is the furthest thing from an opiate for the masses.

It is the further thing, first, because it is an insult to human pride. Jesus said that He came for the sick, not the healthy; the sinners, not the righteous. Nobody likes to hear that they're broken--that they can't please God in and of themselves. Yes, we have inherent dignity, but that dignity is corrupted. Christianity is the one religion that says, in essence, "You suck." It is the religion of the broken heart. That is why Christ was put upon a cross. He told us that we were great sinners in need of a great Savior. We killed him for it.

Christianity is not an opiate for the masses because it calls men to wage war against themselves every day for the rest of their lives. On a daily basis, I cannot simply accept each of my thoughts and desires for what they are. I have to consider what it means to obey God and glorify Him. And that requires me, each and every day, to wage war against myself. Christians have often been accused to waging war against others in the name of religion. But Biblical Christianity recognizes that our war is "not against flesh and blood, but against the powers and principles, the spiritual forces of darkness..." And the greatest kingdom of darkness is within our own hearts.

Finally, Christianity is not an opiate for the masses because Christians will inevitably be marginalized. Some would argue that Christianity has often gained great political and cultural power, but we must separate a "Christian culture" from the Christian faith. Moral principles do not make Christianity. As stated before, Christianity is an insult to human pride--telling us that we are great sinners in need of a great Savior. We do not like to hear that, nor do the people we tell about it. To be a Christian is be marginalized.

In conclusion, Christianity is not an opiate for the masses. It is a tough pill to swallow. Yet it is a pill worth swallowing. Those who have embraced Christ have found that He alone is truth, beauty, power, and meaning. It is a pill worth swallowing, but in Christ, we have life and life to the full."

How do you think I did? I am always open to feedback--positive and negative. This is a messy business and I am growing like the rest of you!

The man charged with evaluating me for the evening gave a very thoughtful and detailed evaluation. Stylistically, he loved my poise, energy, and ability to express all of my points without notes. He also thought that I talked to fast and that some of my sub-points and the impact of my arguments was lost in the process. At the same time, he repeated my argument and main points--which means that he heard a defense and basic propagation of the Gospel! Even though it was implicit, he also believed he heard a call to action: Embrace the Gospel.

Also stylistically, our "grammarian" noted that I started sentences over again seven times. That's a lot. What that means is that I raced to start a sentence, it wasn't coming out right, and I backtracked and straightened it out. That is also a consequence of my energy and speed.

Virtually every person had the same response to style--impassioned and personal, but too fast. This has always been an issue for me, and is even more of an issue in the slower-paced Midwest. Please pray that I would find a way to better control my tongue and better reach people with the Gospel!

As for substance, one evaluator believed that the message was "welcoming yet firm." Always a fine balance between warmth and clarity! Two people noted that the content could prove objectionable--one wondered if the subject would alienate, and another believed the tone "seem really appropriate for a sermon situation." Another fine balance--truthfulness and tact!

Another net gain in all of this--it leads to conversations after the meeting. One member explained to me that he was raised Lutheran, but left the faith once he became an adult. Some others have indicated that they are fellow believers and are cheering me on. It is worth risking marginalization!

I must admit, I have a tough time swallowing the pill at times. That is due to the fact that I have a tough time with myself. I cannot stand the remaining power of sin within me, and that fact that it will not be fully put to death until I am with God in glory. So I must take my own medicine--not the opiate but the pill, because I know that Christ is worth it and that nothing else compares to Him.

Are All Religions Basically the Same?

A few nights ago, I met with a new friend from one of the Meetup.com groups for my first ever fish fry. The fish was good; the conversation was even better. Yet, I had to stop the conversations mid-stream at one point due to a claim that this friend made (one I hear all the time): All religions are basically the same (ARBS, for short).

I find this claim astounding for a number of reasons (and my friend backed off this claim later):

1) No religions teach this. It is neither propounded by their texts or adherents. People have even fought wars (sadly) over the clear differences between religions. So these enlightened observers must know something that the "sacred texts" of these religions don't teach, and know more than devotees of these religions do.

2) This enlightened knowledge must come from somewhere. Religious claims are rightfully rooted in authoritative religious texts. Christians have the Bible; Muslims the Q'uran. Without a source of authority, our ARBS friends become an authority unto themselves. Pretty audacious to invest themselves with such divine authority.

3) What is the essential teaching that apparently unites all religions? Responses vary only by degree: love, the Golden Rule, etc. In other words, the essential teaching is ethical (a code of conduct). Yet, all religions root their ethics in metaphysics (above-physics, things higher than the human realm). Christians, for example, "love because He (Christ) first loved us." Behavior doesn't happen in a vacuum. It arises from more basic beliefs. So the essential element in all religions according to our observers is not essential to any of those religions.

4) Any good religion must offer some form of accountability, right? Something that calls us higher--to people and places beyond ourselves? Yet for those who make love the central teaching of all faiths, they can define love and exhibit it however they wish. The Golden Rule can easily become a cynical quid pro quo--"You better tolerate my behavior as I tolerate yours, or else!" There is no inherent call to submission or obedience to God or of self-denial toward one's fellow man. As with much of the "spiritual, but religious" movement, such a view enables each person to define spirituality around him/herself. Convenient.

5) Each religion is grounded in some form of authoritative source, and that authoritative source is concerned first with metaphysics, then with ethics. If the meat of a religion is found in its metaphysics, it would be fair to ask where religions differ in this regard?

I would find a partial point of commonality with the ARBS crowd here in that most religious systems, whether they deal with the Mosaic Law, Nirvana, reincarnation, etc--do believe that there are means by which men can secure God's favor and have a hand in their own salvation. Most every worldview follows the pattern of Plato's ladder, in which men can ascend to "the One" through reason, experience, ethical behavior, etc.

Yet I would also contend that none of these religious systems deal seriously with the world or the human person in their respective states of brokenness. While many religions account for brokenness in this world, they cannot satisfactorily explain how Humpty Dumpty can put himself back together again. It would seem that this ability to re-create the human person would belong only to man's original Creator--not to any Utopian scheme with no basis in reality.

Christianity is the one religion that replaces Plato's ladder with Jacob's ladder--where God Himself in the person of Jesus Christ comes down to be broken for man's brokenness and to offer man wholeness to a degree in this life and in its entirety in the life to come.

Some call religion an opiate for the masses, and for many, religion is simply a self-justifying system to placate festering consciences. Yet Christianity offers no such opiate. It does not offer you a shoulder massage of platitudes about being a good person. It tells you that you are sick and desperately need a remedy that you can't reach. It tells you that you are a great sinner in need of a great Savior.

No, Christianity is not an opiate. Rather, it is a tough pill to swallow. That's why the human race put Christ on a cross. We could not accept either the diagnosis from God or the divinely-supplied remedy. Yet that act of rebellion was performed in accordance with God's supreme love. Christ endured our insults so that we could endure the insult to our pride, bow the need before our Savior, and find in Him the way, the truth, and the life.

Talk about a satisfactory--even breathtaking--basis for our love. We can only rise up because He first came down.

Following Under the Influence

Last Wednesday morning (the 2nd), I was sitting in a Starbucks, enjoying a wonderful conversation with the retired, long-time pastor of Falls Presbyterian Church, Neil Tolsma. On the front-end of my own ministerial journey, I love collecting the wisdom of those on the tail-end. Pastor Tolsma is an emotional Dutchman who grew up on a dairy overlooking the New York City skyline, sat under the teaching of some of the most eminent 20th century theologians, and labored for decades in relative anonymity for the sake of the elect--known and unknown (2 Tim. 2:10). He's a book that writes itself!

Little did I know how that cozy time of edifying conversation would give way to the raw, wind-bitten nature of Army life! On Friday afternoon, after Pastor Ben helped me pick up and bring home our new dining room table, I left my wife with a valuable helper (thank you, Gram!) and sojourned across Wisconsin to my unit in Eau Claire. While I love hotel rooms (thank you, Army!), I go stir-crazy in the silence and have to keep the TV on the whole time. Oh, how I hate silence (except in prayer, but even then, I often pray out loud).

My Saturday at the unit began relatively normal. I mingled with soldiers and engaged in some basic apologetics with one skeptic-friend. I then drove my (borrowed--thank you, Pastor Ben!) car through the open entrance of the the barbed wire gate in order to carry some boxes of books and other belongings inside. Pretty soon, I was ensnared in another conversation (I love it!) with a fellow believer and one of the few black men in small town Wisconsin (by his account and my observation).

My brigade chaplain then arrived with two chaplain assistants in tow to take me 1.5 hours away to Ft. McCoy so I could give the benediction for a change of command ceremony. Really, Chaplain Bacon was just using the ceremony as an excuse to come and spend time with me. A wonderful older brother in the faith. We walked past my car, through the barbed wire gate, to an awaiting vehicle. In the early evening--after a wonderful time with those brothers--I gave the benediction and visited with the commands of my units throughout the state (Eau Claire is simply the headquarters) and came back in the dark. I arrived at the Reserve Center, to find my car trapped behind the barbed wire.

I had the men take me to my hotel instead, and mapped my course to foot-march the 3.7 miles to the Reserve Center in full uniform at 0700 the next morning. I texted a soldier at the unit to let the command know that I would be late in any case. I ordered a wake-up call for 0630, then called a soldier who had prevented his brother from committing suicide a few days prior. The soldier was still shake up (obviously!) and he let me pray with him over the phone. I don't think I've ever had a soldier refuse in circumstances like those. I got to bed at a late hour, dreading the wake-up call that was drawing closer by the minute.

At 0720, I woke up to the startling realization that the wake-up call never...well...roused itself to do its work. I was about to turn into a spinning flurry of activity when I received a call (0721) from a female soldier who was struggling with depression. Out of a dead sleep, I spent the next 35 minutes counseling and caring for her. She talked openly of her brokenness and also of her interest in various religions and their common teaching on the "law of love." I spoke to her of a human brokenness--that she knows all to well--that can't by nature conjure up such love. The love of God is found in Christ being broken for broken people. (Remember, it was 07-whatever so I wasn't nearly that articulate. I sounded like Barry White had swallowed a frog.)

I got to the unit in time to lead a chapel in the company commander's office. About half a dozen soldiers attended, as well as a young boy (it was family day). I offered a 15 minute sermonette on the true nature of sin and the need for the Gospel from the aftermath of David's affair with Bathsheba. Soon after, I jumped in the car and drove back across the state--stopping briefly to grab lunch to-go from Culver's and arrive at my Milwaukee unit with 20 minutes to spare before I need to lead their chapel.

It turns out that the Milwaukee unit is really just 15 minutes from my house, in the same complex as the recruiters' company. I will be there often, Lord-willing. I introduced myself to the 200+ soldiers, then enjoyed another brief chapel service with about 20 of them. I preached on the man born blind from John 9 and the need to understand and embrace the true Gospel (not the feel good, "I'm a good person" version). I had a good discussion with several of them afterward.

I went home, grabbed my little ginger-bread boy and rushed off to the evening service at Falls. I was bleary-eyed and absent-minded as I tried to keep the little one in check, especially as he began pushing furniture and yelling during the congregational prayer. I put him in the nursery. The cool thing--no matter how he behaves--he always loves to pray and sing hymns with Daddy in the car. He will pray and sing simultaneously with me--as if he knows the words--then cries out "I pray!" or "I sing!" Adorable and a reflection of God's glorious grace.

That blurry weekend really found its culmination on Monday night, when my wife graciously allowed me to go to a local bar to watch the Redskins on Monday Night Football. Down time? I think not! While my Redskins were working hard to lose to the Dallas football team (I will not use the name), I found out that my bartender is a 10-year vet from my unit! He got put out of the Army after breaking his back in a fall out of a second story window in Iraq (don't ask). We became Facebook friends on the spot (which means we also have to be friends in real life, right?). We also had a great time talking during the course of the game.

The next night, with a bit more rest under my belt, I joined the American Legion for their Christmas potluck. Just before dinner, they asked me to say a prayer. I walked up, and one of the 40 or so elderly people there yelled out "HE'S A CHAPLAIN?" Earlier, one of the vets made sure that I had been carded at the bar. THIS, my friends, is why I grow out my facial hair and grizzled grays in between army drills.

After the potluck, an older woman came up to me and described herself as a widow. I asked her how long. She said 38 years. Her husband was electrocuted in a freak accident in his mid-30s, leaving behind an 11 year old boy and 6 year old girl. This widow wanted to know why that happened. I told her that the better (and more comforting) question is not "Why?" but "Who?". Who did God send to show His heart toward death and His power over death? (John 11). We only have God's Word to deal with such questions--and it is sufficient. And we know that God has the final word over death.

In all of the recent episodes, I remember Paul's words to Timothy in his final letter--"I am chained even to the point of that of a criminal, but the Word is not chained" (2 Tim. 2:8-9). In a week like this, I feel my chains, but keep moving by God's grace. The Word is not chained.

Yesterday, the session formally approved my sermon series on a book of the Bible featuring several other widows: Ruth. For the next four weeks, I hope to show how God works in and through our brokenness to great and glorious ends--if only we will open our eyes. Flyer below, and with that, I bid you all adieu and God's peace.

Churchill

One mark of a great biography is found in the ability to make a very old death newly devastating.

I turned the final page of the final volume on Winston Churchill by William Manchester (really, Paul Reid after Manchester's death), and felt the pangs of the inevitable, yet titanic loss of perhaps the greatest leader of the 20th century.

Here are a few reasons why you should love Churchill:

1) He, and Britain with him, stood alone against a seemingly invincible tyrant in Hitler. In the early 1940's, Hitler and Stalin--the last century's greatest monsters--carved up Poland like a turkey, before Hitler wiped out the rest of western Europe and pulverized England with wave after wave of bombers ("The Battle of Britain"). Remember, the Soviet Union was Hitler's ally, France was crushed with barely a fight, and the United States was entangled in isolationism. Britain stood alone. Yet they stood.

2) Churchill alone was able to call Britain from the moral equivocations of Neville Chamberlain (the previous Prime Minister) to a renewed moral vigor that would sustain them in the dark days ahead. Churchill knew that Hitler was posing both a moral and mortal threat to Britain and the West, and instilled with the courage of his convictions, was able to call Britain to stand upon the vast inheritance of Western civilization and withstand Hitler's onslaught. Only the light of moral conviction and ground courage in such moments, and Churchill lit the lamp.

3) Churchill, unlike the more pragmatic Franklin Roosevelt, saw the threat that Soviet communism posed to the free world and sought to thwart it. To give FDR his due, his pragmatism enabled him to navigate America's isolationism and eventually guide them into the war. He also was dynamic in his own right. Yet, he lacked Churchill's sense of moral conviction--that Western values are just of worthy of our blood as Western peoples. As a result, FDR consistently spurned Churchill in favor of "Uncle Joe" Stalin. FDR's progressive idealism blinded him to the evils of communism and he was unable at times to distinguish true friends and foes. Churchill, on the other hand, worked vigorously to restrain the shadow of Soviet tyranny.

4) He was a modern renaissance man. Not only could Churchill call forth courage in the face of seemingly invincible evil, but he was an unparalleled orator and parliamentarian, an artist of the highest caliber, and a Nobel Prize-winning author. In other words, he was a genius. Few men are endowed with such gifts--and quite a few of them are quite quirky. Even fewer are endowed with the ability to harness such intellectual gifts in order to lead a people.

On January 24th, 1952, Churchill's top aide, Jock Colville, walked in on him while he was shaving. Churchill told Colville that his father had died on that day many years before, and that he would die on that day as well. On January 24th, 1965, Winston Churchill indeed breathed his last. The Queen had a stone placed in the floor of Westminster that simply read "Remember Winston Churchill."

We could do much worse than heed those words and heed the man.

Of Heresy Hounds and Lukewarm Lovers

I was not called up to Falls Presbyterian Church so that I could simply share the Gospel with lots of people of behalf of the church. Rather, I was called to cultivate a culture within the church--a culture that desires to engage the surrounding community to the glory of God.

Such a culture is a direct outgrowth of the Gospel. Think, for example, of the beautiful portrait of God's love for sinners that is found in the Prodigal Sons parable of Luke 15. There, you see a heart that is both able and willing to retrieve a lost sinner at great personal cost.

Yet, while such a culture is a direct outgrowth of the Gospel, it is not an accidental outgrowth. Sinners within the church are not immediately perfected so that they display the very heart of God. Often times, they display the calloused, self-righteous heart of the Elder Brother in the Prodigal parable--unwilling to bear any burden for the "sinner over there."

This self-righteous heart is often manifested through two seemingly opposite personalities: The Heresy Hounds and the Lukewarm Lovers. The Heresy Hounds are not as concerned with salvation and growth as they are with precise formulations of complex truths. For example, some may have known Jesus for a short time, but if they haven't resolved whether they are infralapsarian or supralapsarian, they are to be viewed with suspicion and browbeaten (intentionally exaggerating here).

The Heresy Hounds fit the stereotype of the Elder Brother quite nicely, but the Lukewarm Lovers are just as deadly. The Lukewarm Lovers are willing to open the heavenly gates as far as possible to let people in, but end up forgetting that it is pierced hands that open those gates to some and not others. They are willing to take the Gospel for granted, and perhaps leave people ignorant in their sinful estate.

The church culture that flows from the Gospel and impacts the surrounding community is one that doesn't trample over the cross as part of a moral crusade or go around the cross in order to be sensitive. It brings sinners--inside and outside the church--before the beautiful, horrible cross.

All of that said, part of cultivating that culture is simply getting people from the church out into the community. There is something about being "out there"--often times in uncomfortable situations--that makes believers more dependent upon Jesus and desirous to see Him at work.

On Thursday, a handful of church members joined me for our first ever Turkey Trot. We were joined by one friend in the community. Only one? Jesus certainly doesn't mind only one (Luke 15). Again, sometimes it's just about getting out there!

On Saturday, 17 members of our church joined me at the Falls Presbyterian Church booth at the downtown Christmas market. We likely interacted (briefly) with over a hundred people, handed out Bibles, books, invitation cards, and hot chocolate. I ran into neighbors of mine and chatted with them for a while as well.

I learned a number of valuable lessons about this event for next year (i.e., arrive earlier, hand out cards more often, spread our people out amongst the crowd, better signage, etc), but here are a few blessings from Saturday:

1) About 15% of our church came out to this event they knew nothing about and on short notice.

2) In the process, we all were made a bit uncomfortable.

3) We also raised the profile of the church within the downtown community.

4) We relied upon each other. Outreach is a team sport. There is power in having different people with different gifts, all seeking the glory of the Lord who saved them.

One young man told me recently that he found one of our cards on a lawn he was about to mow. He wasn't sure if that was good news or bad--should we care that our cards are treated like trash? Not at all. Most of these cards--like most business cards--will be thrown away. But it takes a set of hands to throw one of these cards away, and we can pray for those hands. May our cards make their way onto park benches, lawns, and into trash receptacles throughout the Falls!

Getting Graded on the Gospel

I rehearsed my first official Toastmasters speech (the "Icebreaker") a time or two in the car. I wanted to make sure I shared the right stories and struck the right tone. My speech was entitled "Worst of Hypocrites" (re-telling here is based on memory, since I don't use notes).

"My name is Stephen Roberts. I am a follower of Jesus Christ, a husband to my best friend, a father of two children that I adore, and...sad, but true...a hypocrite.

I know that hypocrisy is the reason why many claim to reject Christianity, and if you are one of those people, then I am the guy you're talking about. I am a hypocrite, and it runs in my family.

(My dad, in his repentance, is very gracious with me speaking about our past.)

My parents became Christians when they were in college--as hard as it might be for some of you to believe--I know people can often take Christianity for granted out here.

A few years after getting married and having their first batch of kids, my dad's business collapsed. He became very depressed and was prone to despair. This from the same guy who took us to church week after week to hear about the one source of true hope in the world!

His depression wasn't tied up in a neat, little bow, but gave way to anger. He took his children to Sunday School week after week to hear about a Savior who bore the world's anger, but didn't repay it in kind. Yet he manifested that same anger toward his family.

But who am I to point the finger at my dad?

When I became a Christian, in many ways, I was a jerk. Even though I believed that my new faith was a sheer gift of grace, I berated others for not embracing an obvious truth--as if it had been obvious to me!

And my hypocrisy continues to the present day. Tonight, I led my family in prayer around the dinner table. Yet, earlier in the day, I was impatient toward my little boy--who bares all my same traits!--and with my wife, who is so wonderfully different from me. I had the gall to lead the family I hadn't loved well before the Lord in prayer.

I am a hypocrite, but not without hope. In fact, I think that we are all hypocrites--striving for standards or ideals that we can't possibly keep. I am and will always be a hypocrite. I strive to keep the law of God. How can I possible keep God's law when I am a mere man, broken under the weight of my own sin and suffering? My hope is found in the fact that God sent His Son to fully keep that law in my place, so that I can get up each day anew and strive to keep it in gratitude.

But let's leave the language of hypocrisy. I think it best to describe people as messes. We are all messes, broken under the weight of our sin and suffering, The question is "Whose mess?" You are either God's mess or your own mess. I am God's mess.

God tells us in His Word that "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners (and Paul adds), of whom I am the worst. But it was for this very reason, that in me, the worst of sinners, He might display His unlimited patience as an example for those who might believe and have eternal life."

When you see me, you will not see strength, but weakness; Not wisdom, but foolishness. But I hope that you will also see that I am God's mess. I hope that you will see that His same patience can be your hope.

I sincerely thank you for your time."

Here are a few excerpts of the written feedback on the substance of my speech:

"We are messes--like that description. Great message about being a hypocrite. You told a story. People love hearing messages in a story. It's relatable. Very sincere, nice pace--voice loud and clear. Great enthusiasm."

"As an active church goer, I sympathized and could think of examples from my own experience."

"Confident, powerful, sincere...Good introduction; content came from the heart. Great message for us to apply to ourselves. Everything "vocal" was excellent."

"It was personal, informative and teaching/preaching. Very enthusiastic, forceful. It was fast at the end, but that is you!"

"Your ability to tell a story makes me feel like I'm transported to the moments in the past as you described your very personal story. We got to know you extremely well since you were so open about yourself...The speech was well structured, but flowed freely. Like a great conversation with a friend. I wouldn't ask you to change anything about the speech. I like how personal and humble the story was. For most people, it's difficult to own up to our flaws. I like that you shared your faith openly and how it makes you the person that you are."

For my own part, I love having a captive audience for whatever it is I want to share. And I love that they need to pay rapt attention in order to take notes. :) I also appreciate the feedback and believe I'll grow from it, by God's grace.

If any of you in the Falls area would like to practice your public speaking and/or share your faith with others, come and visit this fun club! We meet every other Monday at 6:30pm at Uno Chicago Grill. Come put your mess on display!

Further Inroads: A Status Report

Greetings, Friends.

It has been a while since I've written, and for good reason: We've finally closed on our house. It's more than a house. It's a blessing to us and an instrument of blessing to others.

We feel truly blessed here. On the same day as the closing, a number of church members joined me in loading up a U-Haul at our storage unit, and then unloading it at the house. Thanks to their labor of love, the whole process took about two hours. The next morning, another group of folks from the church came to our house and helped us unpack about 90% of our belongings. Our hyperactive toddler has plenty of room to run around, and our little infant girl can crawl to her heart's delight.

Due to this tremendous show of support, our family has not been completely swamped with unpacking. Last Monday, I officially joined the Toastmasters, waited for the impromptu speech portion, pulled a coin out of a bag, and spoke about the year on the coin and what it meant for me.

2012. That was the year in which my wife and unborn baby went under the knife. That was the year I prayed that the Lord would take me instead of my wife and child. That was the last year I would have with my wife and child before I would deploy and potentially have my prayer answered. But I could bear 2013, because the Lord had blessed my 2012.

On Wednesday, I conducted my first run "meetup" in the bitter cold behind A.J. O'Brady's pub. I met a new Catholic friend on that run, and he joined me afterward at the Legion bar for a drink. We talked for about an hour, and shared some banter with some of the men at the bar. This new friends has borne a great deal of heartache. Let us pray that his trail of tears become for him a pathway of grace.

"They make the vale of tears a spring, with showers of blessing covering." (Paraphrase of Psalm 84:6 in the Psaltar hymnal)

Early this week, I took over the Meetup group that was formerly devoted to the Menomonee Falls Young Professionals. The online portion was about to be shut down, and the group allowed me to re-purpose the site. I have tentatively called in "Dinner, Drinks, and Deep Discussions" after the same-titled group in Sterling, Virginia. I am not sure how best to reach the surrounding community with this group, nor what form it should take. Please pray that the Lord would give me wisdom in this matter!

Yesterday, I met with a troubled teen and his mentor, who attends our church in the evening. This young man lives in a home with his adopted mom, an array of adopted siblings, and his mom's live-in boyfriend, who constantly threatens him. His mom likewise threatens to give him up to foster care (a virtual death sentence for a young man of his age). By God's grace, the state of Wisconsin has a program that allows at-risk teens to do five months of dual training/learning at Ft. McCoy. In His providence, I will drive by Ft. McCoy every time I go to my drill at Eau Claire, and a number of our drills will actually be in the field at Ft. McCoy. That means that I can probably visit this kid once a month. This kid also represents the community we're trying to reach in the greater Falls area--broken under the weight of sin and suffering and in need of grace (just like us!).

Today was probably the best of them all. The soldiers at the local recruiting station secured me an invite to their monthly gathering in nearby north Milwaukee (15 minutes from our house). Upon my arrival, the Company Commander told me how much they've longed for chaplain support over the years and told me of a number of the ways he hoped I could get involved. He then gave me an hour to just talk with the gathering of recruiters from all over the Milwaukee area. It was a precious time. They saw my heart for them, and responded in kind. They took almost all of my business cards and church invitation cards, and a number of them said they'd be in touch. This will hopefully be the first step in the intertwining of my pastoral and chaplain callings in and around Menomonee Falls.

This afternoon, I visited the head of the Business Improvement District in downtown Menomonee Falls. She oversees all of the businesses and improvement projects in that area. I secured a booth for Falls Presbyterian next Saturday at the Christmas Market--a fair of sorts for the community where independent businesses will advertise their goods inside the downtown businesses. Ironically, our church booth will be in The Main Mill--a prominent pub. For four hours, folks from our church will hand out free Bibles, books, invitation cards, candy, and (hopefully) hot chocolate.

Only two days before that fair, I will host the first Menomonee Falls "Turkey Trot" on Thanksgiving morning. It will probably not draw many people--only two have signed up so far on Meetup--and we're starting late in the ballgame. But it will be a good trial for what could be the first annual Menomonee Falls Turkey Trot next year, supported by the downtown Business Improvement District. Both the trial run this year and the potential run next year would draw attention both to the charming downtown of the largest village in Wisconsin, as well as to the host church--Falls Pres--which will bring all donated goods to the local food pantry.

For those of year in the area, please consider coming to both of these events next week!

One final note--our church family has been amazing. Several men in the church diagnosed and fixed our plumbing issues and have offered their services for other handyman projects. Families continuously drop off meals, and some have given us extra frozen meals for later. One family heard that we lacked a microwave and dropped one off for us tonight. Meanwhile, the elders have constantly offered me wise counsel to further hone the work I try to do, and at the same time eagerly encourage me to act boldly. I am pretty sure that this sure has already metaphorically offered us the shirt off of its back.

All of this reminds us, of course, of the wise words once preached by my friend, Phil Proctor: This is not my ministry, nor our ministry. This is God's ministry. He has simply privileged us, by grace through in Jesus to Christ, to take part in His breathtaking work.

Random Tidbits and Prayer Requests

It's the small things. I already shared a little bit about my time with one of my Army units this weekend, so I probably don't need to tell you that these are tiring weekends. I may be a bubbly extrovert, but imposing yourself upon dozens of strangers from the early hours of the morning until the early hours of the evening is not easy work!

But God's grace is ample and sufficient. I forgot my coffee when I left home yesterday morning for my hour-long car trip. So I stopped by a charming independent coffee place in small town called Mukwanago (try pronouncing that!). The staff and customers all greeted me warmly, thanking me for my service, and the owner gave me a $5 gift card for coffee in the future. We'll be back!

During my lunch break at McDonalds, as I was following the beat down of my hometown Redskins, parents kept approaching me with their children, and each of the kids would come up to me and thank me for my service. One dad told me that his boys were all in the Scouts and suggested that they might become soldiers some day. I sure hope so.

For all of the frustrations attendant to the Army life, especially in the Reserve world, there is still a striking cultural difference between this institution and the culture at large: It doesn't turn victims into celebrities; It turns servants into heroes.

I won't usually have this privilege when I'm drilling in Eau Claire (four hours away), but I was able to join my family for the evening worship service at Falls Presbyterian and hear an encouraging sermon from Romans 8 on suffering and hope. I was tired and distracted, but because the Word does not return void, I came away blessed.

The Bible and the Egg. Thankfully, there's no debate here as there is with the chicken and the egg. The Word was the means by which God created this world, and the expression of His will for it. That said, we recently found a Bible verse printed on the inside of our egg carton. This pleasant surprise joins a box of Angry Orchard Hard Cider, which had a Gospel message folded up and tucked inside the box. Welcome to the Midwest, where more folks wear their faith on their sleeve (and egg carton) and haven't been shamed into silence.

Religion and politics. I'm always nervous when I think of how best to employ my great passion for politics. It stirs up great emotion in most people (often unhappy emotion) and becomes an unfortunately means for defining someone prior to any substantive exchange on a personal or spiritual level. Despite this nervousness, many of my best Gospel engagements over the years have occurred at local polling places with people from both parties. As always, I must pray for wisdom and work to be winsome and personal by God's grace. Thankfully, I do not have to choose between the pastorate and politics. Fundamentally, I am a Christian and can love the Savior who first loved me through whatever task the Lord sets before me.

This morning, I met with the county volunteer coordinator for my given party, and plan to get plugged in a hopefully write/ghost-write op-eds in support of this movement over the coming year. I will attend a rally for my favorite presidential contender this afternoon and aside from enjoying a great speech, will have plenty of cards on hand for folks who may be interested in meal or a church.

Prayer Requests

Please pray for my participation in this political rally this afternoon, and for my second gathering with the Toastmasters tonight--that the Lord would give me at least one opportunity in each venue to say something of the Gospel. And please pray that I would seize those opportunities, by His grace.

Please pray for my American Legion meeting tomorrow night and my first running meetup on Wednesday night, that again, the Lord would give me opportunities to know people, love them, and share with the true hope of Jesus Christ.

By God's grace, we will be closing on our house this Friday. Please pray that the whole process would go smoothly and that we would be able to quickly switch into our hosting-gear and start fulfilling the promise of a meal, drink, and good conversation that I have made to so many!

Please also pray for my family. They have borne the weight (and wait) of about six months of uncertainty and trying transitions--practically the whole of our baby girl's life! Please pray that amidst all of the new (and wonderful changes), the Lord would help me to re-focus on my marriage and family and enable us to have some routine and stability!

Army Life Is Always Active

I visited one of our subordinate units this weekend in a place called Sturtevant (near Racine, south of Milwaukee).

Yesterday, I spent most of the day walking the hallways and visiting with the soldiers. When I first joined the Army, this type of introductory work intimidated me. I would walk the hallways aimlessly, shooting smiles at passing soldiers and hoping that someone would stop and want to talk. Now, I am much more at ease engaging a host of new faces. I can go up, shake a hand, introduce myself, and ask some basic questions (Where are you from? How long have you been in the Army? Married? Kids?).

There's a different breed of soldier out here.Virtually all of them are from Wisconsin or Chicago and are homegrown. Most have never gone through a divorce--either their own or their parents--though most are still acquainted with death. And most of the soldiers of this particular detachment of Army firefighters have never deployed. Unlike many soldiers I have known, these soldiers love coming to drill and there is a great espirit de corps.

The leaders of this unit clearly love their soldiers. While most of the soldiers haven't deployed, their NCOs have--numerous times. These NCOs are reachable at all hours of the day and take great pride in being able to care for their soldiers. One NCO today talked about coming home from Iraq and the older veterans who greeted his unit at the terminal at 1 in the morning. He got choked up.

At this morning's chapel service, virtually the whole detachment showed up (some 20 soldiers or so). This included a Muslim soldier from Iraq who I befriended yesterday. I read Isaiah 53 and we sang the first verse of Amazing Grace--a staple of chapel services conducted on the fly. I then read and preached from Matthew 27, when the Son of God was put on trial by mankind.

I emphasized the clear innocence of Jesus on that day, and the equally clear verdict of mankind (including us) to kill him. We do not reject Jesus because we don't see Him in the flesh or lack the miracles. We do not reject Jesus because Christians are hypocrites. We (mankind) had Him in the flesh, along with His miracles. And Jesus Christ, of all born in this world, was no hypocrite. We rejected Jesus because we hate God by nature, and thus killed the Son of God in the flesh.

The beauty of that passage comes with the knowledge that soon after the people cried out "His blood on us and our children" and invoked God's curse upon themselves, Jesus cried out "Father, forgive them" and shed His blood in mercy, not judgment. And though the criminal Barabbas deserved to die, it was the innocent Jesus who bore the death he deserved. Oh that we would confess hearts like Barabbas, that we would truly savor a Savior like Jesus!

Every soldier took one of my cards, and I hope that I am able to follow up with some of them in the future. I let them know that there's always a place at our table and an open bed in our home. I wish I could follow up with them every month, but am tied to the "mother" unit in Eau Claire. Pray that the Lord would bless this brief excursion with future opportunities to share the Gospel and love on soldiers!

Life on the Run

Sometimes I think I am on this internet thing too much, especially when I go through withdraw symptoms after going 12 hours without checking my email.

But sure enough, every little while, am important email springs up from something church-related, Army-related, freelance-related, or house-related--many of which are time-sensitive. Perhaps this validates my wife's insistence that I join the 21st century and get a smartphone.

In any case, I got one of those important emails the other night. The organizer of the the Menomonee Falls Running Club on meetup.com decided to step down, triggering a brief amount of time when someone else can step up into that role before the group is shut down. I immediately volunteered, and subsequently, am now the leader of the local group before even closing on a house.

My life is now out of order, or at least my plans for my new calling are a bit out of order. The first quarter is devoted to integration in both the life of the church and life of the community. Mostly reconnaissance and trust-building type of stuff. Nice and slow.

Volunteering for leadership roles in the community is a fourth quarter priority--meaning, next summer. It is funny how the Lord, in His holy, wise, and powerful providence, will rearrange things on me every time. Without a house for the first six weeks, all of my early hospitality plans have gone out the window. But, hey, I can go ahead and take over a group and its 120 local followers right away. I guess ordinary pencils still have their use--for making plans.

One irony in all of this is that I haven't run in three months. I will run for three months, culminating with a marathon or something similar, then will work myself ragged and will hardly move a muscle for the next three months. I actually rely on leadership roles to keep me motivated. I will run all year if I can help other runners in the process.

So I went for my first run yesterday, on another atypical 70 degree day in Wisconsin in November. I left the church, went south on Pilgrim Ave, then east on Good Hope Rd. I constantly had to switch sides of these major roadways in order to stay on the sidewalks (people treat shoulders like extra lanes here). I enjoy running by lush green fields as I made my way to Appleton Ave, which runs diagonally through town. Once on Appleton, I passed a number of shopping centers until I arrived at my desired destination--the Army recruiting station. Closed.

So I continued on my run northward on Appleton until I hit the intersection with Pilgrim, and took it south back to the church. I unintentionally ran 5.25 miles out of the gate and now have a preview of what soreness at age 50 will feel like (only 17 years away!). I will be hosting my first run here in the Falls on Veterans Day--a two mile out and back through our ample green spaces to simulate the Army PT test, just without the yelling. There's an open invite at the American Legion bar afterward.

Please pray for me in this new position of influence and opportunity to bring hope and grace to the lives of others in my own, broken only-by-the-grace-of-God sort of way. Feel free to join me if you live in the area! As with the larger race of life, there may be some pain involved, but also satisfaction.

The Unspoken Bond

This was only my third time, but when I entered the local Army recruiting station in my civilian clothes and barely adolescent beard, I was greeted by a chorus of greetings.

I didn't need to wear the uniform--they remember their own, and they remember their chaplains.

The first question I was asked: "Have any of our soldiers shown up at your church yet?"

Apparently, a number of them are looking for churches (good ol' Army with its middle-America culture) and want to visit! I told them I would love to see them there. I can honestly say that I love the church--the people are loving, and the preaching is warm, rich, and most important, biblical!

I cannot wait until our family moves into our new home. These soldiers will hopefully be unofficial uncles and aunts to our kids, and will always have a place at our table.

(I had a dear elder brother in the faith ask me today if my family eats beans six days a week so we can host others on the seventh. That has never been a problem. God has always provided plenty on all occasions. We have always been blessed by those who host us and serve leftovers--it shows that they are giving of what they have.)

While I share a unique bond with fellow soldiers, the rest of the church to which I belong also shares bonds in the community. Some gather with fellow trappers and hunters for a quality outing. Others have play dates with friends in their neighborhood. In all of these communal bonds, opportunities are in place to get deeper--to know others' struggles, yearnings, and beliefs. And in those deepening relationships, there are opportunities to share the truth of Christ--the hope for every broken sinner.

There is one deeper bond, and that is the one shared by those who know Jesus Christ. That bond transcends all others, for it is forged in divine blood. When we share the Gospel with others, we seek to bring new meaning to the term "blood brothers" and welcome people who may be very different from ourselves into the most intimate of relationships.

What is a camouflage uniform compared to the blood-washed robes of those belonging to such a great Savior?

Evangelist Update: A Torrent of Opportunities in the Falls

Greetings, Friends.

Since we're currently in the Dells, I am only able to get in to the Falls about once a week while my wife attends Community Bible Study and before my kids nap. Thus, I pack out every inch of my schedule with to-dos in the church and community. Thank God that we will return to Oconomowoc on Friday and I'll be able to commute in on a daily basis.

Here are the places I went today and handed out my business card and our church invitation cards:

1) U-Haul Storage Facility--chatted with one of the first people I met upon arriving--the manager of the facility. Decent guy, and runs the place with his wife. Look forward to getting to know them better. He seems to be pretty open with me when we chat.

2) Gents Barbership--the man who runs this place in the heart of the "downtown" excels at his craft and takes great pride in his work. We also became buds when he gave me my first haircut here. He is Greek, his wife is Dutch, and his mother-in-law is curmudgeonly. :) My business cards with Falls Pres now sit alongside the piles of cards of other local business owners near the front door.

3) Nino's Bakery--also located in the heart of downtown. I visited for the first time today, having already gotten to know two of the workers there on separate occasions. The place was founded and is run by a Sicilian family and they take pride in their bakery as a place where the local priest takes his parishioners to talk. Anyone want to join me there next week for a cup of Joe?

4) YMCA--amidst the rush (there were hundreds of cars in the Y parking lot), I reconnected with a believing friend who I met a few weeks back, and met a couple other workers. My friend would like prayer for her two boys--12 and 4.

Acouple dozen more cards bearing the name of "Falls Presbyterian Church" are floating through the bloodstream of the community.

We also handed out the church invitation cards this past Sunday morning during Sunday School and before and after the morning worship service. If you haven't picked yours up yet, please come by!

Remember: Contrary to the popular thinking of our day, faith is no private matter. Your beliefs--for better or for worse--are not only the most important thing about you, but they are you. They are not only the things you hold most dear, but they explain how you think, what you say, and what you do.

In order to love someone, you must first know them. In order to know them, you must know what they believe. And if you truly love them, you will share your hope in Jesus Christ with them--knowing that the Gospel alone is the power of salvation (Rom. 1).

The Vet and The Son Who Didn't Come Home

This afternoon, as my little ones were napping, I zipped down to a nearby sports bar, ordered a half-price daiquiri (mixed fruit was the flavor of choice), and barreled down on a long-term writing project. "What project," you ask? (You didn't ask, of course, but I wanted to ask the question for a sense of rhetorical flow.) I am writing a month-long devotional for Haven Ministries, a wonderful Christian ministry that has long held my wife in their employ. The devotional will be based on my experiences as deployed chaplain.

Naturally, such work deserves a daiquiri as I am reminded that two people who served over there with me are no longer with us. I also am reminded that the helpless infant crying in my arms when I left could stand and stare at me from his pack-and-play upon my return. Not that these things carry any bitterness, but they will always be wounds I sadly and proudly bare for the cause of sharing Christ with my soldiers and serving those who serve our country.

Any time I allow myself to dwell on that time, I get a bit on edge. There is just something so raw about that experience--a "something" that lodges in the heart and mind of every vet that never goes away. After working and writing for a few hours, I paid for my drink and walked toward the door, eyes a bit glassy as the old highlight reel of sights, sounds, and smells went coursing through my head.

I walked right by an older man in one of those decked out veterans vests, proudly displaying his time of service in the 101st Airborne and in Vietnam. I took a few more steps, stopped, and went back and introduced myself to him. I love finding fellow veterans, knowing that we share a bond. I especially love finding Vietnam vets so that I can thank them for enduring fire from home and the enemy. They made it so that soldiers today can proudly face the enemy without fear of attacks from home.

This veteran, like all the rest, is a hero. I googled him after our encounter, and found this tidbit about him: He "served in 1966-67 with the 173rd Airborne as a Combat Medic.  He is the only Medic to have made a Combat parachute jump during the Vietnam War." He didn't tell me any of that. Knowing that I am a chaplain, he simply said that he was the last face that many of our soldiers ever saw.

He also served alongside the heroic Catholic chaplain, Charles Watters. Chaplain Watters cared for this soldier, and cared for hundreds of other soldiers while under fire. He was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor--one of seven chaplains to ever receive that honor. You can find more about Chaplain Watters here.

This veteran has two sons who proudly wear the uniform. One just returned home from Afghanistan. He also had a son who died last year at age 30 from a medical illness exacerbated by alcoholism. This man tried to save his son, but couldn't. But he puts his hope in the God of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who has defeated death and will one day do away with it once and for all.

Before we parted ways, I prayed with this dear, heartsick veteran and father, largely along the lines of the picture and Bible verse he showed me from his son's funeral:

3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 4 ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21)

Until that Day, dear brother!

New Mission; New Cards

My new business cards and church invitation cards came in yesterday. They are black with some accents of blue and print in gray or white.

I will hand out my card to most everyone I meet, along with an offer of dinner at my house or simply time and space to talk. With these cards, people will get a small token of my affection for them.

I will hand out the church invitation cards to most anyone who is looking for a church, or might be willing to shadow the door of one at some point. With these cards, people will not only be invited into my heart and home, but in the hearts and homes of Christ's people.

While my time in town yesterday was brief, I was able to drop by the Army recruiting station with my new cards and personally invite each of those gentlemen into my house (starting 13 Nov) and to Christ's church.

One of the soldiers briefly attended college in Grand Rapids, down the street from my own college, and along with his wife, has stopped going to church. But he is willing and interested. Please pray that they would come to both our house and our church!

For those of you interested in the new invitation cards, we will be handing them out on Sunday at Falls Presbyterian, along with the challenge to hand several out to unbelieving friends, family, neighbors, or strangers in the course of the coming week.

This is not a full-fledged evangelistic campaign. It is the first act of what should be a wonderful play. In this first act, our people will become more comfortable with making their identity in Christ part and parcel of their everyday conversations and identity.

We will all fear and stumble at times for fear of giving offense and of what others might think of us.

But again, we're living to God's glory, even in our weakness. #AlwaysBeReady

Pictures on a Wall

Thank you to everyone who prayed for me and my unit today. On the two hour drive to the unit, I prayed that the Lord would bring just three soldiers to the chapel service. Three soldiers attended the service. I preached on the man born blind from John 9 and answered a lot of questions afterward.

I was brought to my new office and was shocked to see a name tape on the wall "1LT Randy Croel." Randy was one of my good chaplain friends in my initial training for the Army in 2009. We would often go on runs together. In 2011, we attended the captain's course together as well. This would've been just after our initial training--when we were both young, uncertain chaplains launching our careers in God's grace. I experienced a wave of something like nostalgia.

In the hallway between a number of offices and the chow hall, seven photos and short write-ups rested neatly framed upon the wall. These were seven men from this unit who were killed in action during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Four of them were lost to IEDs in Iraq in 2004--a brutal time for our soldiers. One of the men was a father of three. Another one was an elder at a Lutheran church who led Bible studies on the deployment until he was killed. This Bible study, the write-up mentioned, was a great source of strength to this soldier, according to many in the unit.

The final picture was of a soldier killed in 2011 in Afghanistan--two years before I deployed. He was just 22. Officially killed by "small arms fire."

My best exchange of the day came with an NCO with a Master's in Psychology who deployed with a segment of our unit in 2011. There was an edge to this soldier--a look I see sometimes in soldiers who have seen or experienced quite a bit downrange. Indeed, the segment of the unit he deployed with experienced IED blasts and small arms fire most every day. At times, the surrounding area experienced more concentrated action than at any point since WWII. The vast majority of the unit were awarded Purple Hearts (for those wounded in the line of duty).

This was also the unit where Justin Ross, the 22 year old soldier, was killed--by a sniper, not by small arms fire. The NCO still calls him "my soldier"--a poignant reminder of something special about the Army. No battle buddy killed in action in simply a picture on a wall, but "my soldier" to someone who will spend the rest of their life preserving that person's memory. In a sense, Dave Lyon was my soldier, which is why I'll speak of him until the day I die.

I found one comment made by this NCO particularly interesting. He said "I know it sounds weird--and don't take it the wrong way--but I think this soldier was the best person to die. His dad is a pastor and his family is very religious. Of all people, they are probably the ones who could most handle this."

I think I understand what he was saying. He wasn't diminishing the soldier's tragic loss, nor was he diminishing the pain felt by the family. He recognized that this pastor and his family had a hope that transcended death--that made it less bitter. For where, O grave, is thy victory? Where, O death, is thy sting? Please find more below on the life and death of Corporal Justin Ross and his family:

http://arlingtoncemetery.net/jdross.htm

http://www.wiscnews.com/article_b5b92579-edf1-5b07-baea-fbd088b718bc.html

https://www.facebook.com/ArmySpecialistJustinRossMemorialPage

Three Simple Requests

A week or so ago, I asked the Lord for one simple, specific request, and lo and behold, the Lord was pleased to graciously answer that request.

Today, on my first (unofficial) day with my new unit, I asked three simple things of the Lord on my 2 hour drive from the Dells to Eau Claire (beautiful, by the way):

1) Put one person in my path who can show me around and give me the lay of the land. A wonderful female NCO provided the answer to that prayer as soon as I walked in the door.

2) Enable me to reserve a time and room for a chapel service tomorrow (the first one conducted for the unit in about two years). It will be at 1100 CST in the classroom of the training site.

3) Use me to bless one soldier in particular today. I'm not sure how the Lord may have answered this prayer, though I had a lot of buoyant introductory chat-versations with soldiers.

Please pray for the chapel service tomorrow. Usually, these services draw 5-10 soldiers (the number balloons on deployments), often because of poor advertising and conflicting duties. Pray that the Lord would bring some believers and unbelievers, and we would all grow in our knowledge of and love for Jesus Christ through the power of His Word and Spirit.

A Long Night with the Legion

Before my first session meeting at Falls Presbyterian drew to a close, one of the elders stopped the discussion, turned to me, and said "I think it's almost time for your American Legion event. You have our blessing to go." Another elder helped me pack some food to go, and then the session prayed for me. God's grace is so clear to me in the way this dear group of brothers and fathers in the faith stand alongside of me and behind me.

I proceeded to my first American Legion meeting at their building in the center of town, wolfing down southern-style BBQ on the way (as we say in the Army, "Eat now. Taste later."). I sat down amongst a group of men who were almost exclusively from the Korea and Vietnam eras. Only one other veteran my age was there (also a member of the Village Council and follower of Falls Pres on Facebook).

The meeting was pretty standard: Funds raised for those in need and funds dispersed to those in need. Past and upcoming events. Resources for veterans facing all manners of hardship.

The time afterward was not so standard. A few of the older vets invited me to the Legion bar in the basement (a great place, filled with older folks and the hometown Miller Genuine Draft on tap). I sat down next to the occasional tender of the bar, who I met on one of my first days in Menomonee Falls. He is a funny, gregarious, get by day-to-day musician. And his dad in Florida is dying.

He updated me on his dad's condition since the last time we talked, and will go down in the next week to be with his mom in these final days. I talked with him about Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus, and the beauty of God as the unfailing father. He is bringing his Bible down to Florida with him. Please pray that he would find comfort through that life-giving Word.

While talking to the bartender-musician, I also chatted with the commander of the post and one of the few black men in Menomonee Falls. As the commander told me about a veteran who could use some extra care, my other friend told me of his inspiring climb up the economic ladder in inner-city Milwaukee. He also wanted to know what the DC elites would think about a conservative, black Republican who wears a Confederate belt buckle and loves to hunt. :)

On the other side of the bar, a half dozen widows (all of whom reminded me of my deceased grandmother) put back shots and bantered back and forth. When the conversation on my side died down, I went over and visited the women. "Oh, you're the new chaplain!" they said. I told them how good it was to meet each of them and sat down to talk with one of them in particular.

This particular widow told me that her husband died just two years ago. He didn't join the Legion until late in life because he was only in the Army for a few months and didn't think he was allowed. BUT, she readily declared, he was pushed out of the Army because of poor eyesight, despite the fact that he excelled in every test he ever took. I was inspired by how quickly she defended her husband, as if he was still there beside her.

She said he had been sick in recent years, but still always drove her if she wanted to go somewhere so that he could spend more time with her. 58 years of marriage. "He was always my best friend."

A powerful final experience to think and pray over on my drive home.

The Smell of Grace

I signed up to attend the local Toastmasters club on Meetup.com. I knew that Toastmasters give people the opportunity to practice and grow in public speaking and hoped that I might have an opportunity to give some glimpse of the Gospel to folks from the community.

Just before the meeting, I had dinner with an older member of the congregation--a passionate evangelist--and he had once been in Toastmasters. He told me that one exercise they may do is take a random topic chosen for the night and ask for volunteers to speak on that topic.

I arrived in the back room of a local pizza place, where about 20 people were gathered. I tried to make small talk with others in the few moments between speeches. An hour into the meeting, I wondered whether I had chosen the wrong venue to take a stab at outreach.

Then the random topic was announced: Potpourri. I didn't know how the format worked, so the lady who introduced the topic called upon someone to to talk about potpourri. She then asked for a volunteer and I thought "What the heck!" and volunteered.

I said something along the following lines (though not nearly as polished--I was later told I said "Uh" five times!).

"When I think of potpourri, I think of the smells, the sights, the sounds of this world in its original beauty. I think of the glory of this Creation and the world as it was meant to be.

I am a soldier, and when I deployed, it didn't smell like potpourri. It smelled like exhaust and chemical-laden burn pits, and figuratively, carried the stench of death. Potpourri also reminds me of the sweet scent used to cover the smell of death.

When I think of potpourri, I think of a world without these things. I think of a world where burn pits are filled, deserts are turned into gardens, and every tear is wiped from our eyes. I look forward to that day."

Was I too abstract? Too morbid or sentimental? I don't know. There is nothing polished about sharing the Gospel. I am a sinner trying to communicate biblical truth with other sinners. I appreciate the fact that it was noted that I said "uh" five times. My weakness was clearly exposed! I hope and trust that God showed His strength in my obvious weakness. At least I am doing this now rather than just talking about it.

Afterward, I met a number of people including a few fellow believers from different denominations. I handed a few of my old cards from Sterling. Still riding my extroverted social high, I gave a cheerful goodbye to the gals working in front of the restaurant and started kicking myself as soon as I got to the car, thinking I should have tried to talk to them a bit.

I then realized that I forgot my Toastmasters folder and went back in to grab it and found myself in a good conversation with four or five of the workers at the place. I told them about Falls Presbyterian and invited one of them in particular to come. I acutely felt the emptiness of my pocket, devoid of any current business cards or church invitation cards. I won't make that mistake again. They will be on the printer by the end of the week.

In any case, one of the gals was interested in visiting the church. She was convinced we have a sign with constantly changing messages in front of the church (we don't). I just continually repeated the intersection--"We would love to see you at Falls Church at the intersection of Pilgrim and Good Hope!" I hope she comes.

Please pray for these continued endeavors, dear friends. And may our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, be known and loved by more hearts and confessed by more tongues!

A Call to Come Home: A Status Update

Greetings, Brothers and Sisters.

The report below is intentionally dry so that you will have the bones in place for the stories of flesh and grace that will follow in the weeks and months to come, in God's gracious providence. As I will preach at Falls Presbyterian tomorrow, the theme for this season will be "Come Home"--the call of God to truly live within the blessed confines of His salvation by grace through faith in Christ.

On October 1st, I officially began my labors as an Evangelist with Falls Presbyterian Church in Menomonee Falls, WI. The installation service, featuring my friend, Pastor Matt Barker, and the two other pastors at Falls, Pastors Ben Snodgrass and Jonathan Falk, provided a stirring initiation into this new work. Below, I will present to you my initial approach to this work, things I have learned and done thus far, and ways in which you can pray.

First, over this first quarter (three months) of work that I do as part of a two-year calling, I have two focuses: Integration and Promotion.

Integration: I will work over these first several months to become integrated within both the church and the community. I will attend church events and engage in a lot of hospitality with my new friends at the church in order to know them--their passions, gifts, struggles, etc--in order to later engage them in outreach. I also will visit groups, individuals, and events within the community that will provide a foundation for the church's eventual engagement with the community. Specifics to follow in my report of current activities.

Promotion: There are two great advantages to a robust effort to promote the church--more people in the community will know of the church, and members of the church will have the opportunity to identify with the church and engage with others on a very simple level. Efforts at promotion will include both technological and personal components.

Second, I have hit the road with these focuses over my first week of work, and I would like to share with you cool opportunities that have already arises, as well as lessons that I have learned.

I visited our local Army recruiting station this past Wednesday and had a great conversation with several of the active duty soldiers there. Their unit has virtually no chaplain support, and they asked me to come introduce myself to the unit in the nearby Milwaukee suburbs later in the month.

Afterward, I visited our local American Legion post, where I met the group's commander and transferred my membership. We hit it off, and on Friday, I helped some members of the group--as well as some Boy Scouts and JV football players--unfurl a giant flag across the local high school football field before the Homecoming football game.

On Friday morning, I providentially encountered a retired soldier on the street and got his business card and will follow up with him. I also visited the Chamber of Commerce, where I met and got the business card of the local volunteer running the place and got lots of good resources and information on the community. I then visited the YMCA, where I met the coordinator of their veterans programs and got to know a number of the workers there.

With regard to promotion, I have taken over and updated our Facebook page (and will keep it regularly updated). I also hope to get both bumper magnets and invitation cards for the church in the next couple of weeks, so that our church will be splashed across dozens of bumpers, and so that every member will have the opportunity to hand cards out like candy to friends, co-workers, and strangers--and get more comfortable with regularly relating to folks on a spiritual level. As the Army would say, we will follow a crawl-walk-run pattern. Please pray for us in this crawl phase!

A few lessons I have learned:

I knew the culture here was far different than the East and West coasts, but I am noticing how those differences play out on the ground level.

On the coasts, you usually have to introduce the basic truths of the Bible to folks, while most folks are have attended and/or currently attend church here. They have a general comprehension of those truths, but need to have the significance and meaning poured into those truths for them.

People here worship the Packers. I love football and will cater to this love and use it for the Gospel.

Civic activism is huge here. No need for community organizers. Volunteering in local government, the school systems, and organizations like the Boys Scouts is rampant.

It is those civic activities where I will gain more traction in engagement than at local bars and pubs. This is a more family-oriented and house-centered culture than the DC area.

People tend to hibernate a bit during the winter (largely in their finished basements with accompanying wet bars), but tend to travel north to cottages with their families each weekend during the summer.

Milwaukee and its environments may be the most segregated area in the country. This is a shame, but also a wonderful opportunity to show how the Gospel speaks to and transcends every culture.

Some people in the "village" of 40,000 have heard of Falls Presbyterian--most have not. And when they think "Presbyterian" they think the large, unbelieving mainline Presbyterian churches in town.

Third, please pray for us in the following ways:

1) That I would be faithful in my own labors and witness to the Gospel as I further integrate into the church and the community.

2) That I will find opportunities to follow-up with the contacts already made, as well as establish new contacts in the community each successive week.

3) That my relationships with brothers and sisters in the church would blossom in God's grace and create a shona-ba-shona (Afghan for shoulder-to-shoulder) mentality would be inculcated.

4) That the profile of Falls Presbyterian and the Gospel she proclaims will both be held forth in the community and become better known.

5) That more and more opportunities to share the Gospel would be presented to our precious body of believers!

With Gratitude in Christ,
Stephen