Archive for July, 2008

Pace-exploration again…..

{ July 30, 2008 @ 1:29 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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Setting the pace once again!…..

Moment of clarity one:  Nothing shakes you like a forced ambulance ride in which you are wide awake.

Moment of clarity two:  You can fool everyone into thinking that your heart (physical/spiritual) is fine.  You can fool yourself into clouding over the problem by thinking “it’ll get better.” But deep down…you know.  And deeper down:  God knows.  You’re not fooling Him.

Moment of clarity 3:  You can’t shortcut a trial.  There is not a “pass go/ straightly to BoardWalk” option on suffering or trials.  God wants me to extract each moment I can from a trial to see Him and grow in Him.  And during the trial….it sucks. 

Moment of clarity 4:  No matter how much a control freak one tries to be…they can’t control everything.  And they are not better about control than God himself.

Monday Afternoon April 21, 2008……….

 My dad calls me minutes after the doc leaves after dropping the bomb.  I have to hold it together because what adult male wants to lose it in front of his dad, even on the telephone.  Dad tries to re-assure me, and does….a bit.  I fill him in, and let him know that the pacemaker is due to something genetic. 

“They say it’s genetic, Dad, and if you give me 500 bucks….I’ll blame it on Mom!!” 

“I’ll give you a thousand!”

Mandy gets the full scoop and then the visitors start coming.  Tim and Katie, Hollie and Dave, The Lindsley’s, the Sampson’s, Krista and Danielle, (all great and welcomed by the way) and one I won’t forget.

A girl who has dazzling potential yet is self-destructive and doesn’t realize it was keeping me on my toes.  I attended her truancy hearing, and then watched her skip our youth conference.  I yelled at her when I found her.

Really, really yelled.

I really care for her, but she finally drove me to my last straw/nerve/ thingy. 

I thought she would hate me forever.

She began to press a family friend to come to the hospital to see me. 

And pressed and pressed and pressed some more.  She pressed to the point that the family friend finally came up to the hospital around 7ish.  She sat in a chair, said nothing, and stared at the wall.  She said not one word to me the near .5 hours she was there. 

I asked the lady before they left what the deal was, and she exclaimed that the girl “pushed and pushed me to come up here.  When are we going to see jason?” 

Unbelieveable.  Which leads me to moment of clarity 5:  God will use all different types of people….in all different types of ways…..to comfort you in times of trials and doubt. 

My dad (expected)

The girl (un-expected)

More to come.

Jason

Pace-exploration

{ July 29, 2008 @ 11:03 am } · { Uncategorized }
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Setting the pace once again!…..

Moment of clarity one:  Nothing shakes you like a forced ambulance ride in which you are wide awake.

Moment of clarity two:  You can fool everyone into thinking that your heart (physical/spiritual) is fine.  You can fool yourself into clouding over the problem by thinking “it’ll get better.” But deep down…you know.  And deeper down:  God knows.  You’re not fooling Him.

Moment of clarity 3:  You can’t shortcut a trial.  There is not a “pass go/ straightly to BoardWalk” option on suffering or trials.  God wants me to extract each moment I can from a trial to see Him and grow in Him.  And during the trial….it sucks. 

Monday Morning April 21, 2008……….

I have not eaten since 9 a.m. Sunday morning, and am ready for anything.  But I can’t have anything save ice chips.  So…I eat those.  A seemingly nice Russian lady comes in to ultra sound my heart.

Yes, you read right…ultra sound…what I commonly thought was for babies and pregnant moms.

I am trying to be laughable/ friendly/ funny.  So I ask, “how’s the baby?”  She puts the little ultra-soundish thingy down and stares intently in in eyes.

“Baby?”  “This is no baby.”  “This is YOUR HEART!”  “What are you silly or something?”

Apparently it’s still illegal to laugh in Russia.

The nurses often gather around the room looking to see the “Patient.”  Also apparently, it’s not normal for 34 year olds to get pacemakers.  They would come in and ask me “No offense, but do you abuse  intravenous drugs?”  “No offense taken…but no.  Why do you ask?”

“Because the only other way we can explain this is that either you are a drug user or it’s genetic.”

Ahh….thanks for the diagnosis. 

Finally, the Doctor comes in.  He’s of Indian (not Native American) descent.  His full last name is….

vaduganathan (Va-doo-gah-nathan)

He states for us to call him Dr. Nathan.  I wholeheartedly concur and abide by his request.

He states that I have a complete heart block.  While my heart muscle is fine, the beats are not in sync.  and due to that, the low beat is the only one registering.  And it will tire me out working on its own.

He gave me two months tops since I was “in pretty good shape,” according to him.  I could be doing anything and keel over and die.  Anything.

Sleeping.

Sex.

Preaching.

Anything.

Turns out a lot of athletes (which I don’t claim to be one) have this problem and don’t know it, since they are regularly notorious about having a low heart rate due to being in such fantastic shape.  Some athletes (Hank Gathers) have died from this, while on the playing field.

The doc leaves.  And once again, I’m alone.

What in the world has happened?

Moment of clarity 4:  No matter how much a control freak one tries to be…they can’t control everything.  And they are not better about control than God himself.

More to come.

Jason

Just when you think……

{ July 29, 2008 @ 7:46 am } · { Uncategorized }
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Wow.

 

Just when I think things are starting to roll, they begin to rock.  I’ve had to preach the last two Sundays, and have heard some good feedback.  And the feedback is not from people who would tell me I’m great when I sucked.  They would be honest enough to tell me when I inhale rapidly.

Last week (July 20) I talked about the Bible.  Yeah, I know, you’re supposed to talk about the BIble.  But I talked about how the Bible is to be read with transformation in mind, not just information.  I told our congregation that I wanted them to scoot up and sit closer to one another.  We are always so spread out all over our auditorium.  They hemmed and hawed, but they did it.

Two days ago I talked about Dark Nights.  The idea is from St. John of the Cross, a 16th century priest.  He spoke of times where God’s presence seems to not be tehre and God has seemingly abandoned the believer.  In these nights growth most often is acute, seen, and painful.  At the close, I asked people if they were going through a “dark night” to stand.  I then asked others to pray over them, whether they knew them or not.  Seemed to go well, and exactly like I had hoped it would play out.  God seemed to have answered some prayers.

Again, I made the congregation move up.  Again, they complied.  We had a really good time of prayer (or so I thought) both during the pastoral prayer and at the close; when I asked people if they were going through a “dark night” to stand.  I then asked others to pray over them, whether they knew them or not.  Seemed to go well, and exactly like I had hoped it would play out.  God seemed to have answered some prayers.  People responded that the message was a tough-but-necessary one that seemed to have landed very well.  Numerous comments, all good.

Until today.

In a comment left on the back of our attendance-measuring device, a church member stated that we shouldn’t have smaller group prayer times, and to “quit making me move from my chair.”

All it took to shatter my feelings (and that’s a whole other conversation in itself) was that one comment.

Why?  i respect this person.  I like this person.  I want this person to like me.  And yet I feel like they neither like nor respect me.  This is the second time this year I’ve done something in public worship that this person (from my point of view) completely blasted. 

I can’t win.

I give up.

Maybe I should sell insurance.

I heard that it takes something like 9 positive statements to zero out a negative one.  Well, the inverse is also true: One negative statement can zero out 9 positive ones.

My ultimate hope is not in comments; either good or bad.  It’s not even in changed lives…..as nice as that would be. 

As the song/hymn states:  My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.

But it still hurts.  So may the pain be used to grow me.

 

 

Until this morning.

Back to Pace-exploration

{ July 22, 2008 @ 9:56 am } · { Uncategorized }
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I was exploring all the fundamentals of the pacemaker when Croatia interrupted me.  So, here’s to another round (or 4) of pacemaker observations.  But just to recap…..

I was not feeling too hot the weekend of April 17th-20th.  Eventually, I went to a “doc-in-the-box” type of place, where they gave me a poison antidote to see if my heart would beat more faster.

It didn’t, and I was off to the hospital….in an ambulance, complete with the ever-so-cheerful early-mid 20’s paramedic who had failed bedside manner classes in “paramedic school.”  (See May blogs for more.)  At first they didn’t know where to take me, only to finally place me in the ImCU (Intermediate Care Unit, the B team of the ICU).  By the time I arrived at the hospital it was nearing midnight on Monday morning.  For an eerily brief but lengthy-feeling period of time, I was alone.  Here’s where I left off………..

 Just me, God, fears….and crying.  I cried intensely.  I was so scared, then got mad because I was scared….after all I tell people to trust God for a living right?  Right.  And in the middle of trusting God….one can admit that he’s scared.  But I couldn’t show fear in front of people Right?  Wrong.  But being prideful prevented that…for a while.

Moment of clarity one:  Nothing shakes you like a forced ambulance ride in which you are wide awake.

Moment of clarity two:  You can fool everyone into thinking that your heart (physical/spiritual) is fine.  You can fool yourself into clouding over the problem by thinking “it’ll get better.” But deep down…you know.  And deeper down:  God knows.  You’re not fooling Him.

Aiiight…now that we are caught up….here’s the beginning of the rest of the story.

Mandy came up to stay for a few minutes.  Technically, she wasn’t supposed to stay long, but the nurse graciously allowed her to stay with me for a few extra minutes.  The boss nurse told me some good words of re-assurance, letting me know that nothing bad was going to happen to me.  Her manner was humorous, which surprisingly, was exactly what I needed.

Editor’s Note:  Thank God for ESPN in hospitals!!!

The next nine hours were and are a blur.  I didn’t sleep much, due to the fact that every 15 minutes, my blood pressure would be taken automatically by machine.  So, every time I began to get sleepy….BOOM! My arm would shrivel like a child star’s chances of being relevant past 20.  Not to mention the blood issue.

Like clockwork, every 1.5-2 hours from 1 a.m. -9 a.m., they would take vials of blood for testing.  “Hi, I’m here to take your blood,” someone would come in all cheery-eyed and nice.  I wish I could have shared their happiness.  The first two times they took blood, they took about six vials per time.  I hate needles.

I HATE NEEDLES….especially when they are driven into my veins.  Not my idea of a Sunday night/Monday morning. 

THey were taking the blood for “tests,” but I think they were just vampires who were thirsty.  I’m only slightly kidding.

By 6:30 a.m Monday morning, I was getting a tad grumpy.  Between the constant “pings” of monitors, a lack of complete privacy due to my door being open for monitoring purposes, no more than 10 minutes of sleep at a time, and the blood-suckers, I was ready to leave the hospital…..

The last guy to come in for blood would feel my wrath.  “Hi, I’m here to take some blood for testing!” 

………..”what are you exactly testing for?” 

 ”Enzymes, stuff like that, you know.”

……………….”no, I don’t know.”

“Oh…well, can you hold out your arm for me?”

He inserted the needle to drain blood.  Within about 4 seconds, one of the veins of my arm just completely disappeared.  Not “it hid from me in a charming game of hide and seek in vein/vain.”  Disappeared.

I looked at him.  He looked at me.  We had an awkward exchange of glances.  He anticipated a question.  Little did he know what was to come.

“Do you know how long it took me to get that vein to show up?  4 years.  FOUR YEARS!  Four years of hard work, and strict (at times) diet.  And YOU took IT in FOUR seconds.  How do you like your job dream-killer?”

“….uh….err….umm…I’m just a lab tech, I’m sorry.”  He looked like I had just shot his dog, or NOT shot his cat…… :)

“I know….I’m just playing around.”  (That was a lie.  I wasn’t playing at all, but the look on his face demonstrated a need for me to shift the mood if I could.)

“sorry again,”  he stated.  I told him that it was ultimately no problem. 

Did I mention that I hadn’t eaten since 9 a.m. Sunday morning?  I was ready to eat paint off the wall by 10 a.m.

I was ready to leave by 10 a.m.

Moment of clarity 3:  You can’t shortcut a trial.  There is not a “pass go/ straightly to BoardWalk” option on suffering or trials.  God wants me to extract each moment I can from a trial to see Him and grow in Him.  And during the trial….it sucks. 

More to come.

Jason

 

 

Croatia Chronicles part 15: The Aftermath 6.18.08

{ July 13, 2008 @ 6:29 am } · { Uncategorized }
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It’s 4:30 a.m.  Yeah, I can read your mind.  “What are you doing up at this hour? Can’t you sleep?”  The answers are:  I don’t know, and no I can’t.

 

I figure I’ll try and toss around for a couple of hours, and will venture up to church.  We’re right in the middle of Vacation Bible School, so the church will be filled with little kids, and with “helpers.”  In the past, the pastoral staff has been criticized for not being “visible” during VBS.  People wanted to see us around a little bit, even if it’s just to walk around and shake hands, etc.  For me, I would think people would NOT want that, but I think I understand what they mean. 

 

It’s 9 a.m. and I arrive at church.  I figure I can get all my work done today, and veg out.  I run into a volunteer who also happens to be a parent of a student in our ministry.  “What are you doing here?  You should be home!” she scolds me as my smile quickly evaporates.  “I’m just trying to help out,” I meely reply.

 

“Well, since you are here can I talk to you about something?”  I warily agree.  She proceeds to basically dump on me for 30 minutes about things she doesn’t like regarding student ministry and our church. 

 

Welcome back Jason!

 

I then find out that our speaker that I’d lined up for today can’t do it.  So with five hours of notice, I’m going to prepare a talk.

 

This isn’t lost on me.  I didn’t plan on preaching at all during our mission trip.  The day before we leave I hear about the BEAT.  I didn’t anticipate preaching twice more.  That’s three times I didn’t anticipate.  Yet, God knew it would happen.  How do I discern this?

 

Why preaching?  Is it because I’m supposed to?  Is it because I like it?  Is it because I’m good at it (which is only by God’s grace if that’s the case)? 

 

Is it God’s desire for me to preach more?

 

I’m not even back in this country 24 hours and I’m preaching again tonight.

 

I am beginning to realize I can’t deny that God desires me to be preaching more in some capacity.  And it’s not because He needs me.  He most certainly does not need me.  Yet, it seems to me that He is choosing to use me via the element of preaching. 

 

It also seems to me that He is bruising me quite greatly.  I’m living with a limp so to speak.  Emotionally, this has been the hardest two months of my life.  I’ve hit the breaking point so much that I’m broken for good.  Part of that is bad, but a larger part is good.

 

I can identify with broken people more and more.  I don’t dare say completely, but I can safely say “more.”  I understand depressed people better.  Between the pacemaker, relational issues, and church stuff, I have been irrevocably altered. 

 

Changes are coming.  I don’t know when the next one will be.  But I do know that I’m in a state of upheaval.  I just want to be faithful in the process.  Here’s what I think God desires to teach me:

 

-He uses the broken:  God will not use a person greatly unless He breaks them.  And that breaking is not a one-time occurrence.  It’s a continual process.  I’m in the being-broken business.  He is not shy to be forceful in this process and will employ any means He sees fit to do so. 

 

-He works outside of my understanding:  How we could go from what was planned to what actually happened is beyond me.  If I were writing the script for that trip, I would not have employed some of the things that occurred.  Why He did what He did and how He works to glorify Himself is beyond my capability to comprehend.  And you know what?  That’s beginning to be okay with me.

 

-He will glorify Himself in spite of our best/worst plans:  Did God glorify Himself in spite of the fact that nearly nothing went as scheduled?  Yes.  Did God do amazing things despite the fact that Stefan was in the hospital; the camp idea went completely down, and nearly every day was a complete struggle to plan and execute?  Yes.  Does He have to let me in on His plans and His ways before He does what He does?  No.

 

While I don’t know the changes to come…. it seems like I’m about to make a major shift.  That’s exciting and scary at the same time.  So I guess the mission trip hasn’t ended.

 

It’s only just beginning.

 

Croatia Chronicles part 14: Home 6.17.08

{ July 12, 2008 @ 9:09 am } · { Uncategorized }
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It’s 3:30 a.m. and I think I’m the first one up:  Check that.  I know I’m the first one up.  Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse…..

 

I take the first shower of the day, but I make it a quick one.  For only 3 hours of sleep, there is a spring in my step that I’ve not anticipated.  I get out of the shower, and start the cleaning process; albeit as much as one can with commotion and people waking up.

 

We are supposed to leave at 5 a.m. to get to Zagreb.  With each passing minute past 5 a.m., I grow more and more irritable.  I just want to go home.  And while I know they aren’t doing this on purpose, I feel as if the people who don’t want to go just yet will ruin it for me by being late to the airport, therefore being late to the plane, and missing it. 

 

I am now struck with a sense of overwhelming selfishness.  How shallow am I exactly?  Maybe I’m coming to the depths….of my shallowness?  How dare I think such things?  These are people whom I love and respect.  They are not thinking in the same planet as I’m projecting onto them.  I need to grow up.

 

And to trust God….a little.

 

On the way to the airport, I ride in the luggage van with John, who helped to pick us up from the airport on June 5th.  I am getting sleepy and have a hard time staying awake.  One sentence John says sparks my interest.  “I’m Allen’s boss…. can you email me with your thoughts on the trip?  He’s not always the best with working with others and I want to help him learn and grow.” 

 

I’m not having any more problems staying awake.  I AM having problems with my heart.  Not my physical heart, but my heart of hearts.  I unfortunately have a first thought that is more rancid than rat droppings:  This is my chance to completely stick it to him for all the trouble he’s put me through the last 12 days.  I’ll show him. 

 

POSTSCRIPT:  I’m posting this blog entry on or about July 12th.  I haven’t written that email yet. 

 

How can I think that?  Again, the depths of my shallow-ness are beginning to be seen, and it both scares me and makes me sick.  Wow…I am a depraved human…even with the Holy Spirit convicting me of such stink-filled sin.  I imagine what I would be like without the Holy Spirit’s convicting power.

 

I would be the worst sinner of all-time.  I know myself too well to think otherwise.

 

I begin to think of evidences of God’s grace in Allen’s life and ministry.  He loves God.  He loves this country and these people.  He’s planted his life and family here.  He has more faith in his pinky than I do in my body.  He is trying to see revolution of a different nature embrace a war-torn and gun-filled area.  He wants to see Jesus reign.

 

When I do write that email, I’ll make sure to view my time with him through those lenses.

 

It’s 6:10 a.m.  We arrive at the Zagreb airport to a very long line that seemingly gets longer by the second.  I begin once again to get a bit nervous.  Will we make it?  Will we have to catch another flight that will push us back from arriving in Houston? 

 

We finally get to the counter and get all loaded in.  As we are walking to the gate, a rather brisk walk by me, we notice the second part of the crew dilly-dallying around the rental car line.  They will never make it if they are now just getting in line, even though their flight/s leaves an hour after us. 

 

It’s 7:40 a.m. and we are on board our airplane into Frankfurt.  The flight is rather uneventful, and I’m too amped up to sleep at all.  I doze, but not much.  We fly into Frankfurt on time, with enough layover to comfortably find our gate and get ready for the long flight stateside to Chicago.

 

I’m switching seats.  A brother and sister want to sit together, and I think they haven’t seen each other in a while.  So I switch with the brother, and I’m on the opposite side of the plane from the team.  I am sitting next to Scott, a Minnesotan high school kid flying back from a class trip to Germany.  We talk basketball, hockey, the cold, and other things.  I even watch BOTH movies they offer, 27 Dresses, and Definitely Maybe.  The first one stars Katherine Heigl, whom Oprah has dubbed the new “it girl,” due to her starring role in Grey’s Anatomy (which I’ve never seen) and the movie “Knocked Up,” which I’ve also never seen. 

 

It’s a cute little flick, but predictable in how the new Hollywood trumpets romantic comedies.  People meet….then they fall in like….then they have sex….then they have a cliff-hanger deal breaker happen, only in the end to get back together to live happily NEVER after.

 

I know this will shock everyone, due to my propensity to love romantic comedies.  (Mandy hates them so we achieve some sort of Jung-ian balance in the world).  But I too, am not so fond of romantic comedies anymore.  They treat sex as if it’s an afterthought.  “Hey want to go to the mall and then have sex?”  Sure, why not, in fact, let’s throw the football afterwards.”  This is an indictment of the culture we live in, and I for one am getting nauseated…. at myself for being silent about it.  I’m not the boycott type.  But while I watch this cute little movie about a bridesmaid who is never the bride, a movie that in a weird way holds marriage to be the end-all/be all, sex is so trivialized and relationships are so dumbed down.  I don’t think I can watch romantic comedies any more after getting off of this flight.  I need to be different…. Think different… live different.

 

We roll into Chicago.  After a brief panic due to not seeing our luggage right way, and after heading out of customs, we get to the American Airlines ticket counter.  Heidi and I have to get our boarding passes from Chicago to Houston due to a snafu at the Zagreb gate.  She gets her’s successfully.  Mine?

 

Not so easy.

 

Due to my first name being Paul, there was an error in the booking of my flight.  I was originally booked as “Jason Hess,” which should come as absolutely NO shock to whomever reads this.  However, for international flights, apparently one must book their legal first name.  So I’m booked as Paul.  The only problem is that “Paul” isn’t on the list.  But Jason was…until his ticket was cancelled.  So while I’m in the “book,” I’m not in the “Book.”  I’m thinking back to my trip to Albania, in which I wasn’t even in the “book,” but somehow made my way from Toronto to Vienna, Austria.

 

By God’s grace, I get my boarding pass via standby, and we are off to the gate… except security.  This will be fun.  I have to get hand-checked every time I go through security, and Chicago is no different.  In Virginia back in May, I had a quite notable run-in with the security guy.  He took his job REAL seriously, to the point that people were gawking at me as they walked by due to his. …ahem….through-ness.  He was too enthusiastic in patting me down, and I felt like people were just staring at this guy as he dropped to his knees both behind me and in front of me to make sure I wasn’t carrying drugs or bombs.

 

I told this story to our student ministry, and they laughed.  Some of the guys on our flight may or may not have thought I was exaggerating.  Well…they are now knowing I’m not.  Tim is looking at me and is intermittently laughing and turning his head, due to the nature of the security guy’s kneeling.  It’s embarrassing, but there’s really nothing I can do.

 

We eat at Quizno’s, while we call home to let folks know we are in the states.  We get to the gate, and do what all good Christians do when waiting for a flight:

 

We play spades.

 

Our flight gets delayed for a while due to weather, but we get on board about an hour past our scheduled departure time.  I am not sitting near any of the team due to our gate snafu, so I am by myself for the flight home.  That’s okay with me though.  I’m sitting next to a guy who quickly falls asleep, so I do the plane crossword puzzles. 

 

It’s near 8 p.m.  We land safely in Houston, and after obtaining the luggage we look for Shannon Johnston.  We are unsuccessful at first, but then we find her to God’s praise and grace.  I see her blond hair, yet I see other people as well.  The passenger front door opens……

 

And Mandy comes out!!  Katie quickly follows her.  Our wives have come to see us!  How great is that!  The drive home is filled with Croatia stuff and remembrances.  Shannon asks us our favorite part about the trip.  I go last on purpose, for the battle still rages within me to see evidences of God’s grace in the trip.  We arrive at Fellowship around 9 p.m. to our families.  Heidi’s parents greet her.  Karen greets Taylor along with Karen’s parents. (Karen is Taylor’s girlfriend-soon to be fiancée) 

 

We are home.  We are safe.  To God be praised.

 

But there’s still a lot to sift through.  And Lord willing in the coming days and weeks, I will.  I haven’t slept on the plane so I can try and sleep at home.  Lord willing, I will.

 

Croatia Chronicles part 13: Amped 6.16.08

{ July 11, 2008 @ 10:36 am } · { Uncategorized }
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I’m mowing again.  It’s our last full day here, and I’m kind of glad it’s a tad lazy.  Our plans are to:

-clean up/fix up as much as we can around camp

-have dinner with Bronko-Svetjlana-Stefan-Manuela

-Pack up

 

So, with a bit less on the agenda, I’m going to try and enjoy the day.  My clothes have dried, so I can leave some stuff behind for others, and take less stuff home.  I’m still trying to live on less, which in a sense is good and in a sense is a crock; for “living on less” in the U.S. is still “more” than the majority of the world. 

 

We shower up and get clean and head into Sisak.  We once again arrive at the always smoke-filled, mostly pleasant internet café.  I check some email, have some water, and proceed to play spades at a walkway next to the café.  We split off into groups who want to stay, and groups who want to pick up some last minute souvenirs. 

 

It’s 6ish p.m.  We return to the pizza café where Svetjlana first fed us.  All of us are there, and we meet Nikolina and Manuela later.  As we are there, I sit next to a team member and we start dreaming.  We dream about a possible church plant that is next to the University of Houston in which we can radically impact college students.  It’s nice to dream and think forwardly for once.  The saddest thing is, however, we are still years away from that reality.

 

After we say our goodbye’s, a few of us go to Boojo’s to talk to him.  It’s right in the middle of a Croatia match.  The outdoors section of the restaurant is packed.  The inside is not so packed, but still very smoky.

 

And for the next two hours, he talks to us.  He basically ignores his own bread and butter; pardon the pun, to hang with us.  I couldn’t help but think how I would not do the same.  And to top it off, he buys us coffees and water’s!!!  We talk about beer, and how certain things one does to beer is “Blasphemy.”  I find his word choice intriguing, and it reminds me that in some way big or small, God puts a stamp of eternity in the hearts of everyone.  Now don’t get me wrong.  He’s not a Christian.  If he dies today, he would unfortunately be spending an eternity in hell.

 

But he used the word “Blasphemy.”  That couldn’t have been by accident.  Perhaps God is drawing him to faith in Jesus?  I can only hope and pray so.

 

It’s 11 p.m.  And I have to admit that I’m getting a little nervous.  The longer we spend with Boojo, the less I sleep.  The less I sleep, the more I’m going to want to sleep on the plane.  The more I sleep on the plane, the more jet-lagged I get, which will be bad for everyone in Pearland.  We finally leave before the game ends, so as to avoid either riotous fans protesting a loss, or….riotous fans celebrating a win.

 

We stop by the gas station to fill up.  Debbie is driving the rental car, and gas in Croatia is about $9.00 per gallon.  Basically, you promise your first-born in order to pay for a full tank. 

 

It’s past midnight.  I’m setting my alarm for 3:50 a.m.  I want to get in, shower, and clean up the sinks so I can be completely ready to go and get home.  We finally get to bed.  But I’m ready for home.  I’m amped to go home.  I’m now a bit nervous that I will not be able to sleep at all because of how excited I am to go home.  Other teammates do not feel the same way I do.  They are sad to leave.  They want to stay longer.  And while I can understand their viewpoint, I confess I do not share it.  There are things waiting for me back home.  There are people waiting for me back home.

 

One in particular.

 

I miss Mandy.  I’m ready to see her.  I have to talk to her about a few things; things that will radically affect our future; things that I’m afraid to talk to her about.  But I must tell her. 

Croatia Chronicles part 12: Dejected 6.15.08

{ July 8, 2008 @ 3:55 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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It’s 5:30 a.m.  I’m up early again.  Even after taking an Ambien CR last night, I’m a bit too wired for this early of a morning.  I get ready to go to war….spiritually that is.  I’m preaching today, and I’m trying to get ready for today’s festivities.

 

We get to the Moscenica church and get settled in.  The church praise team will sing a set, and then our team will sing, and then I will preach.  Again, I’m not nervous, but I am having a bout of nervous energy.  I want to do well by God’s word and these people.  There is an acute sense of pressure on me.  This pressure I sense is good.  It’s valid pressure.  It is not pressure I’m putting on myself per se. I think it’s normal pressure a teacher of the Bible should feel before a sermon.

 

I preach on Isaiah 6:1-8, talking about Isaiah’s response to seeing God for how big and grand He really is.  Translation went smooth, and afterwards, we met Clark, a missionary from Canada who was in for a three-year stint helping with Croatian farmers. 

 

We then return to Interspar, and are off to Svetjlana and Bronko’s summer house for a day of leisure.

 

We have a ton of barbeque, and some Croatian specialties.  These folks re-define hospitality.  I need to, no I MUST learn from them!  After a huge lunch, we sprawl out to do many things; talk, read, play, or in my case……….sleep.  I was out.  I mean out.

 

I was more out of it than a pre-25 Hollywood starlet photographed at any nightclub.  People actually tried to wake me………and failed.

 

After I woke up, I went out into the yard to hang out with people.  While I didn’t hear conversations I knew what some conversation was about.  The changes are coming and I can’t stop them.  I can hear change coming.  I can see change coming.  I can even taste it.  And normally, I’m okay with changes.

 

Not right now.  This change looms like a cloud over the entire trip for me.  I can’t shake this feeling.  1997 comes back into my mind.  Feelings and memories I thought were buried and gone have re-surfaced and have me down. 

 

Way down.

 

See, in 1997, I was an intern at my home church in Kingwood.  I worked with students there and was doing okay with that until March.  In March, our (at the time) youth pastor was asked to leave.  Or, I should say, he resigned after being asked to.  He wasn’t fired…. for the record.  Overnight, literally, he moves away and is replaced by an “interim” youth pastor who happened to be the intern while I was in high school.  While this guy and I were friends, and are very close friends to this day, the relational hole was gaping for me, and for many of the students.  At the same time, the church was going through a very rough time as we were looking for a new pastor to replace our long-term senior pastor.  They had come close, but the vote came just shy.  Then, after the vote, there was a churning of hurt feelings, and attacks on people theologically and personally.  After a culling of the membership roster, which revealed that people voted who weren’t members, and that….gasp…a few people were charismatic theologically (although you couldn’t tell because they kept it to themselves, and didn’t bother anyone), the elders blistered the church, asked people to sign a theological statement saying that they agree to support and defend the doctrinal statement of the church, which included a precisely-worded statement about the ceasing of tongues.

 

For the record, most Bible church doctrinal statements that I have seen do not include a statement about the ceasing of tongues, choosing to keep a non-essential……non-essential.

 

Suffice to say, it was a rocky time for our church then, and for me personally.  I was 23-24 years old, my first full-time ministry position, and was stuck in the middle of a church split.  I would spend many nights at the church campus, alone in my office until the wee hours of the morning, sifting (and at times weeping) through my thoughts about what had and was happening.  It was as if a part of me thought that if I just stayed there long enough at night, time would reverse itself and we could be whole again.  There began to be a soundtrack to that time, a soundtrack that relied heavily on bands such as Jars of Clay and White Heart, who both had albums released in 1997.   Their songs ministered to my soul during that time.  Now why do I say this? 

 

Hollie lets me borrow her iPod and alerts me to a Jars song that got her through some tough times, something she did by the way without me prompting her.  It so happens that the 1997 Jars album is on there as well.  I listen to her song, then I go straight to the Jars ’97 album.  The song/s bring me full circle to the way I was feeling in 1997.  The word I use to best describe that feeling is:  Melancholy.

 

We leave to return to camp.  We have a team meeting in which we begin to ramp up for leaving on Tuesday morning.  We discuss plans for packing and the last day of work at the camp, and we are off to bed, spades, or other endeavors. 

 

I have a conversation with a team member.  Part of it is good.  We cry and hug together.  The other part of it is so bad I want to just die.  (Not suicidal here, I promise)  I have never felt such conflicting emotions so close together.  In one instant I’m so praising God for the breakthrough I have in expressing issues and handling stuff in a God-honoring way.  In the next second (literally…the next second) my heart is overcome with grief. 

 

I never knew I could feel such depth of pain.  I’m not sure how to praise God with this.  I hope to at some point, but at this point, I’m not even numb. 

 

I think I’m slowly shriveling up emotionally.  How can I experience such highs and lows in ONE DAY?  Oh…..that’s right….Elijah did (1 Kings).  I’m no better nor worse, so I can expect the same.  Yet, even though I “know” that, it still hurts worse than anything I think I’ve ever experienced in my life. 

 

Why am I even here?  What good have I done?  I can only hope that I’ve done the Kingdom of God some good at some point.

 

I have to trust the sovereign hand of a God whom I can’t always figure out.

Croatia Chronicles part 11: Jousted 6.14.08

{ July 6, 2008 @ 7:29 am } · { Uncategorized }
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We have a change of plans.  Yeah, I know, big surprise right?  We have nothing until the afternoon, which delights me, because my body is screaming at me these words, “I’m tired.”  So we play the card game spades for a while.  Sam, Grant, Heidi and I play for a while, and we not only play cards, but emit various wisecracks along the way.  At one point, I even nearly convince them about “Bicycle (card company) Rules” that could have helped Heidi and win……via cheating. 

 

We spend a gloriously lazy afternoon at Timi’s house.  A few folks go and watch the Sisak Storks play.  I opt to stay at the house to check email, and possibly take a nap. During my first round of email checks, I am alerted to a semi-crisis back home.  A couple of emails and phone calls later, crisis resolved.

 

 We eat lunch, and then I’m suddenly asked to leave the kitchen.  Ana fixes us nearly an army’s worth of food as is her custom.  I am washing dishes, which stuns her because men don’t do that in Croatia.  This lets me know that Mandy would never survive over here because I …get to…do the dishes.  But right after I wash, Kathi asks me to go somewhere else.  They are going to have “woman” talk-time.

 

I go willingly and re-check email.  And it is at the computer, checking email that I’m faced with a looming feeling.

 

I have to face the fact that change is here.  I’m not going to be the friend to certain people like I’d like to be.  I wish to have the friendships with them like the people their age.  Two examples are on this trip.  Two people are in their forties, and two people in their late-teens/ early-twenties. 

 

I’m either too old or too young.  I’m in exile.  I’m the only 35 year old on the trip.  Everyone else is at least 6 years younger or 11 years older.  I am getting too “old” to hang out with the late-teen crowd.  I’m still too “young” to hang out with the over-40 crowd.  Wow I’m relationally stuck and it hurts.  I’m seriously feeling out of place in any crowd, and that sense of not being able to land in a group really is weighing on me. 

 

It’s 6 p.m.  We are meeting Stefan and his family to go to the Sisak jousting tournament.  We have to catch a boat ride and go across the river to get there, so we walk alongside the river and stop for pictures.  I really have to force a smile.  I don’t feel like smiling. 

 

POST SCRIPT:  I’ve seen the pics….and guess who looks most like he’s not smiling?  I guess I can’t even force a smile.

 

While on the boat ride, I get to talk to Hollie and David some more about our lives and our trip.  The ship horn blows in my ear annoyingly, until I realize that if it blows much more, I’ll be just like my father in the “unable-to-listen” department.  We arrive across the way, and get ready to enter the jousting tournament.

 

This is a heavy medieval feel as we enter the castle grounds.  The smell of grilled meat fills the air, and we get ready to enjoy some jousting.  There’s just two things:

 

One:  It’s beginning to turn cold, and we (I) are not dressed for the occasion.

Two:  There is a murmur that “Americans” are here.  This is a bit weird to me.

 

We go by the grill to obtain our pound of flesh.  I’m not really into pork, so I go looking for other food.  I run into Bronko, who’s nursing a Croatian beer.  He offers me one, but I’m not really interested.  I remark that I’m looking for food, and he points me to another grill….cooking the same thing the others were cooking!!!  Resigned to my fate, I obtain a pita full of the pork/lamb/cow product.  We make some small talk until Tim finds me. 

 

It turns out that there are some Croatian t.v. reporters who want to interview the crew!!  So, we catch up with the crew in time for Tim and I to be interviewed.  I try to get a plug in for the BEAT but once they hear from Tim that we are Christians, my interview is cut way short.  Alas, so much for our t.v. debut! 

 

It’s raining slightly and very cold by this point.  We spend some time mulling around the gift stands before finding our seats.  By this point, it’s raining heavy, and the umbrellas are out.  The only problem is that everyone else’s umbrella is out also, so we are getting the drip-off from the other umbrellas. 

 

There is much pageantry to the opening ceremony, complete with a version of “Pomp and Circumstance.”  The m.c. is good, even though we can’t understand a word that he is saying………that is until he suddenly speaks perfect English!  He welcomes us, and mentions the American group being here, saying that it is an honor to have us. 

 

We’ve been set up.  It turns out that Svetjlana pulled some strings to get us interviewed and introduced.  I’m at a loss.  NOW THAT’S HOSPITALITY!  For the next two hours, we watch jousting (not the horse and knight, but hand to hand on a jousting …dealy-thingy), marksmanship efforts and more.  We also try, with little success to stay warm.  We are all given a shot of brandy so I down it…. and it’s fire to my esophagus.  Absolute misery!!!  Yet, for a small bit, the alcohol warms us.

 

Did I say that I’m so cold?

 

It’s 11:30 p.m.  I’m preaching tomorrow.  I’ve got to get some sleep. 

 

Croatia Chronicles part 10: Graced 6.13.08

{ July 3, 2008 @ 4:31 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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I usually do not eat breakfast cereal, nor do I have cheese for breakfast.  This week, both of those statements have changed.  While I do not anticipate that this will be a transfer to behavior at home, I must confess that I am now looking forward to my helping of muesli and gouda cheese each morning. 

 

It’s 9 a.m.  Breakfast has been served and people are painting.  I am sink-washing some clothes right now.  Hopefully the sun will stay out so it won’t rain, and so my clothes will dry……….before I head back to the StatesJ!!!


It’s 11:30 a.m.  We are eating lunch, which is heavy on starches and carbs….no problem there.  A vagrant comes up to our camp, and I’m not sure what to do.  We know one thing we can do:  FEED HIM!!  So I load up a plate, heavy on starches and carbs for him, and he converses with Allen for a short while.  I’m wondering if there’s anything we can do for him, and Allen is talking with him at the same time.  While we aren’t able to help him in any other way (namely because he refuses it), I am thrilled that we meet a temporary need to help him with food.  Watching him makes me thankful for food. 

 

RANT:  This makes me very unhappy to be an American right now.  Okay, stop throwing crud on your screen or if you are reading on paper, don’t email me hate mail.  I love America.  I love my country.  I’m grateful for this land.  However, we are known internationally as the land of excess.  I live in the fattest city in the country (Houston and Detroit trade the crown but we are the current champions my frie-end…) And I can’t think of a more pungent example than our restaurants.  The portions are too big, and I buy into it so much.  I don’t need to super-size anything.  I eat too much already. 

Seeing “Croatian homeless guy” scrapping up his food while so many of us are bringing doggie bags home (finger pointed at me, not you) makes me ill.  I will quit being part of the problem, and will start being part of the solution.

 

For me, no more excess.  If I go out to eat, I’ll order what I know I can eat at one sitting….and what I can eat reasonably, not the typical “eat till full, wait two minutes, and overstuff to the point of pain.” 

 

Back to scheduled recap….

 

We go back to Boojo’s to grab dinner for everyone.  He is floored that we would buy take-out from him.  I am sensing that he is ripe to the gospel.  At least I sure hope he is.

It’s 5:30 p.m.  We are back at the BEAT.  I’m in the zone.  We are going to do the final leadership training pre-BEAT and then the BEAT itself.

 

Tim and I are co-leading the last part of the leadership training on the nature of the church.  I sense it goes well, and am given good feedback.  What originally was not to happen has now not only happened, but has happened in a way that I couldn’t have dreamed of earlier.  We haven’t just taught BEAT leaders.  We’ve taught people from two different churches in Sisak.  God is quite good to me.

 

It’s 8 p.m. and the BEAT is on.  Annabella and Ivona show up.  I’ve never seen them before.  Apparently, Annabella has had problems in the past, but is now smiling and enthusiastic.  Ivona is nice, and wants to go to the States for college.  However, they disappear just before things officially kick off.  I wonder where they are going, so I discreetly follow them.

 

They are outside smoking. 

 

That’s no problem.  I just feel sad for them.  I think that they think that we would look down on them for that.

 

How can we?  All of Europe smokes!  I swear I saw a five year old kid smoking at one of the café’s!!!  This situation takes me back to days ago, and reminds me of people and situations I’ve encountered before.  Case in point:

 

One time in Virginia a church deacon was talking to me while at a potluck supper.  The one thing I can say that Southern Baptists do right (among other things) is that they know how to live out Acts 2:42……the breaking of bread part.  I know Southern Baptists believe in at least two things:

 

Christ AND carbs…..potato salad, bread, pecan pie, etc.

 

He and I were talking and the subject of smoking came along.  Now, to preface this for a bit:

 

I don’t smoke.  I have asthma.  Asthmatics shouldn’t smoke (are you listening Lindsay Lohan?).  Therefore I don’t.  My grandfather did….for many years….and was one of the greatest men that ever lived.  My dad did….for many years…and is one of the greatest men who live today.  Both of these men have served God faithfully for years in ways big and small; official and off the books.  Do I agree with their smoking?  No.  I think it is quite harmful.  Do I think that smoking is the unforgivable sin? 

 

……..no…….

 

Anyway, armed with that knowledge, here’s the rest of that conversation.  The deacon commented on the other deacons, who smoked right outside the church building.  “Can you believe these guys?  How can they do that to their body?  Don’t they realize how destructive they are being?”  Note that he was talking to me while shoveling his FOURTH Plate of heavy starch/carbs down his gullet.  He weighed 385 pounds at the time, and was 5’6. 

 

Smoking was the unforgivable sin, but gluttony was okay?

 

I’m guilty of gluttony more times than I can count.  How can I judge someone for smoking?  Especially someone who I’m not sure is even a Christian?

 

Why do Christians expect non-Christians to act like Christians when they aren’t Christians?  Why can’t we go to their turf and expect them to act like…non-Christians?

 

And why is smoking the deal-breaker?  I know Christians who smoke and non-Christians who don’t?

 

Can we ever get over ourselves?

 

Can I get over myself?

 

I sure hope so.

 

I’m happy that they walk back in.  Stefan is here, and his parents are here again.  Svetjlana comes over to me.  She has been concerned about my condition.  I let her know I’m fine.  Then, she staggers me with this:

 

“Jason, I love you very much.” 

 

At this point, I’m overwhelmed.  I’m not sure what to do other than to hug her, which much to my glee…overwhelms her!!!  She’s misty-eyed, and I want to say so bad that immortal line from “A League of Their Own” that states “THERE’S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL.”  (Stefan…plays baseball for the Storks……get it?)  I can be knocked over with a feather (preferably the Storks feathers) And then I’m overwhelmed again by this:She’s going to hear my talk.  And so is her husband.  Holy crap.  The pressure is evident.

 

 

Taylor and the band are leading in singing.  Some people sing, while others listen attentively.  I walk outside to get on my knees and beg God for His anointing on me to talk.  I’m talking about my pacemaker and equating it to Jeremiah 17:9  which states that:

 

 9The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick;who can understand it?

 

I listen to Hollie and Ian share their faith stories.  Both of them are very smooth in front of the crowd.  Both of them share the story of how God intervened in their lives to save them and give them His grace.  I’m in the back thinking “I don’t need to follow this.  God can do this with Hollie and Ian alone.  God can do this alone….”

 

I find myself before the BEAT with Stefan translating for me.  I am not nervous.  Yet I’m anxiously hoping God will penetrate hard hearts.  Between the translation and my talk, we go about 40 minutes.  And by God’s grace, we have them paying attention the whole time.  Time will tell the fruit born from it, but I’m excited, and elated.

 

We talk and eat Croatian pizza afterwards.  I don’t eat it, but try to battle my innate shy-ness and chat with people.  Stefan comes up to me to talk about the BEAT.  He is excited and tells me how grateful he is for me.  I’m not good with accepting compliments, although I’m grateful for them.  But what Stefan tells me is beyond complimentary.  His comment strikes me to the core of who I am.

 

“Jason,” Stefan states, “It’s like Jesus oozes through you.”  Okay, you can really knock me over with a feather of any type.

 

I don’t think I’ve ever received that compliment before.  And it couldn’t have come at a better time.

 

I’ve just received the “win” I’ve been looking for.  Everything is beginning to make sense.

 

It’s (nearly) all worth it.

 

It’s 1:30 a.m.  I’m bushed, but fulfilled.  Grateful.  Very grateful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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