I have read and admired George Grant for years. Yesterday I discovered one more thing to admire him for–his wonderful “shed office.” He blogs here— and here.
Streaming the Gospel Coalition 2011
The Gospel Coalition Conference in Chicago is going on this week. I would love to be there with my sons (Come to think of it, I would love to be there with my daughters, too) but I just returned from a two–week visit to Israel and I have a church to pastor. If you get a chance you might want to “tune-in” the live streaming broadcast of the plenary session speakers.
An Easy Target
Do you ever get the feeling that the enemy is using you for target practice?
Other than my parents who were dutiful, good, Christian folk, people didn’t want to spend time with me while I was growing up. I didn’t have many friends, and the people who paid attention to me did it in such a way that it made me wish they had ignored me. They beat me, mocked me, called me painful names, and said things to intentionally hurt me, things that I would rehearse in my mind in the last few minutes before I went to sleep at night or think about when my mind was unoccupied like when I was mowing the lawn or delivering papers. I mowed lawns and deliver papers a lot. My parents wanted me to learn to work hard and earn money, and I didn’t have any friends with whom to fritter away time or loiter.
In the last few years I have been invited to one particular activity fairly regularly. I’ve been invited regularly to play paintball. The dialog usually goes something like this.
“Hey we would love for you to play paintball with us.”
“Oh, thanks for the invitation but I don’t know how to do that.”
“That’s no problem. It’s easy to learn. We’ll be glad to teach you.”
“Thanks, but I don’t own any equipment.”
“That’s OK. We have some old stuff you could use.”
They just seem so eager. Too eager. It makes me a little uncomfortable.
These are people who have invested hundreds of dollars and obscene amounts of time in sophisticated equipment for this sport. I have never done this but I have thought about it a lot. I would really like to believe that the years since my cruel Jr. High experiences have made me a much more likable guy. I’d like to believe people just love spending time with me now. I would like to believe that I have become socially attractive over the passing years, but I don’t think so.
Here is my theory: I am a pastor so people think I am fairly harmless. They know I do not own or know how to operate paintball equipment. I am well into middle-age now and I’m not as quick on my feet as I used to be. I have a wider-than-average body. I never have nor will I ever own any camouflage clothing. These factors make me a very attractive paintball date. On top of this I have an above-average ability to irritate people, thus the regular invitations to play paintball with people who are only casual acquaintances.
I just don’t see why anyone would think I would enjoy being a human target for their sadistic pleasure. It’s not just a little frightening to know that there are lots of people like this out there on the loose. “Hey, it’s my birthday. Why don’t you bring your in-experienced, old, irritating, slow-moving, wide-as-a-barn carcass over for the afternoon so me and my homicidal friends can chase you around the backyard and shoot you repeatedly? It only leaves a small welt that will go away within two or three days. I have a feeling the fun would be a little one-sided. I have a nagging suspicion that their wide smiles are masking a complex and disturbing cocktail of psychological disorders.
Maybe I’m just a little paranoid but don’t bother to invite me to play paintball with you and your friends. It just doesn’t sound like it would be much fun – for me. It is at times like this that I take comfort in the knowledge of God’s unconditional love and constant protection for me – even when the enemy wants to use me for target practice.
Ken Pierpont
Northwoods Conference Center
Watersmeet, Michigan
June 24, 2007
Travel the Road
Tomorrow morning I will open my Thanksgiving message with the story of Timonthy Scott and William Decker , two young guys who have traveled all over the world preaching the gospel and documenting their travels on film. Their films have motivated the believers and captured the attention of others, too. You can read about them here.
Here is an example of one of their fascinating films. It’s just the two of them. They travel with two backpacks, no crew, no support. They stepped it up a couple notches since the missionary slide shows I remember.
A Lingering Memory
The old man rests in his chair in the corner of a shady porch. He lives there in the tasteful house alone surrounded by his books and his memories. He is a happy man loved by family and friends. His children and their families often visit on weekends but he spends much of his time alone reading and writing. Every morning and every evening he walks along the lakeshore drinking in the seasons like a child gathering shells on the beach. He prays on those walks and feels close to God by the big water and under the vast sky.
The soft breeze and the fading sunshine of evening lull him to sleep like a baby in his mother’s arms. In his sleep he goes back and back over the years, even the decades to a late spring night. Before him is a young woman in a summery, sleeveless, blue dress. Her skin is darkened by the sun. The breeze blows her long brown hair. Her dark eyes look steadily on him. She never looks away for a fraction of a second when she kisses him. Her mouth is hungry for his. She is in no hurry. She makes no attempt to pull away as he tenderly tugs her to himself. Her soul is deep and her heart is loyal.
Wordlessly he sweeps his young wife into his arms and carries her over the threshold. From the waterfront the sound of a band wafts on the gentle wind. The atmosphere is influenced by the sound of it like the scent of lilac and the pale purple twilight. White curtains rustle in the window. The moon shines on the hardwood floor. Stars blink on the in the heavens. Crickets sing somewhere out in the cool night.
Out on the porch the corners of the old man’s mouth turn up with the lingering memory of a lingering kiss.
Advice for the Lonely
The family sang at a funeral in Kentucky this week. The chapel was packed. Over five hundred people signed the guest book. We wound up the hill to the cemetery for the graveside service and military rites, then we gathered at the Baptist Church for diner with the family. As a small girl Lois lived in a small house just across the creek from the church. I went to the food table hoping to find scalloped corn. There was none, but the green beans were like nothing you will ever eat out of a can. We sat down and Lois gave me a bite of her banana pudding and said, “This is the way they make it down here. You’ve never had better.” [Read more…] about Advice for the Lonely
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