God speaks through donkeys and Eagles.

God speaks to me through the oddest things. During a break from studying my sermon this week I caught a clip of one of those home make-over shows about a Vietnam vet who recently lost his legs. The man was totally confined to a wheelchair and unable to even spend the night at home because the house was not handicap-friendly.  There was an interview clip in which the woman was talking about the sense of loss -- her tall, handsome husband now legless and needing to be in a care facility. I am getting to the part where God spoke to me: she said "I took a vow to love him, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, and I love him."  That little clip stuck in my head and I used it in my message today.

Then, Sunday evening the Eagles Farewell I Live was on TV. What a great sound. That was the music I loved -- Eagles, Steely Dan, and that era of great musicianship and great lyrics. I was enjoying the concert when another of those moments happened when God spoke to me through an unlikely source.  

Joe Walsh of the Eagles did a video insert talking about 10 years of sobriety, and then sang this…

Well you know I was always the first to arrive at the party,

Oh… and the last to leave the scene of the crime.

Well it started with a couple of beers,

And it went I don’t know how many years,

Like a run away train heading for the end of the line.

Well I finally got around to admit that I might have a problem,

But I thought it was just too damn big of a mountain to climb,

Well I got down on my knees and said "Hey!"

I just can’t go on living this way,

Guess I have to learn to live my life one day at a time.

Oh yeah, One Day at a Time.

Oh yeah, One Day at a Time.

Well I finally got around to admit that I was the problem,

When I use to put the blame on everybody’s shoulders but mine,

All my friends I use to hang with are gone,

But I hadn’t planned on living this long,

Guess I’ll have to learn to live my life one day at a time,

It was something I was too blind to see,

I got help from something greater then me,

Now I have to learn to live my life one day at a time.

I have never been addicted to alcohol or any kind of drug, but I minister to people who struggle with those addictions, and that song was just powerful. It should become the anthem of the 12-Step movement.  I hope my friends who are struggling will hear God speaking to them through "One Day at a Time" and get down on their knees and say "I just can’t go on living this way,"

The 6,700 mile youth service.

Through the amazing use of technology our youth service spanned 6,700 miles tonight. Paul Ruddell, brother of Youth Pastor Steve Ruddell, is in Singapore studying missionary church planting. Using two Macintosh computers, iSight cameras and iChat, they did a live connection. Paul was able to watch the Praise & Worship Band and then he showed some photos and video clips from a recent short term summer mission trip to Vietnam.

With full duplex live video and sound -- projected wall size on our end -- it brought a bit of home to a young man far away, and reconnected our youth with him.

I spoke to a full-time field missionary who told me how laptops, broadband, email, chat and the instant connectivity has revolutionized missions. In years past, when a missionary had a serious prayer request or need, it could take weeks, or even months, for the mail exchanges necessary to get assistance. Now, when a need arises, missionaries often find someone online and can get prayer and support in real-time!

Thank God for the convenience of instantaneous communication virtually worldwide.

This, too, shall pass.

Those four words have been both an encouragement and a caution to me over the years.

Things not going so great? This, too, shall pass. Things will get better. 

Everything perfect? Enjoy it while you can, because this, too, shall pass.  Life has seasons and this is but one of them.

We have enjoyed a season of favor in which so many things have fallen neatly into place, with seemingly little effort.  The past two weeks have been the opposite.  Odd stuff… some strange interpersonal relationship issues… communication breakdowns... staff members bailing on meetings with little or no notice... people stressing and nerves on edge.

It makes one wonder.

There are factors contributing to this -- it is back-to-school week for our university students, several people are preparing to move out or in (I guess both, actually) of apartments, we are going into high gear preparing for the arrival of a group of musicians and dancers from California who will be with us for about 12 days, rehearsing for two appearances at a big community event (30,000 attendance predicted) --- it is just a stressful time for a lot of people and, in time, this, too, shall pass.

I remember a line a character spoke on a TV show recently: "My dad always said 'It will all work out in the end. If it hasn't worked out, it isn't the end."

In the throes of transition

Along with the recent series of military transfers from our church
has come a trickle of new, incoming people. God has a way of
balancing everything out. Our new sound man came drifting in the
door and stayed. His mother was so pleased with the changes she saw
in him (particularly after summer camp) that she came and stayed and
now leads our Hospitality Ministry. Her name is Leona and she is
unreal. She arrives at 7:30 AM to prepare for a 10:00 AM service, and
she cooks every Sunday morning. Cooks. Not snacks. One Sunday she
made breakfast burritos. Last week it was blueberry pancakes and
chicken salad sandwiches. The woman is a serving machine. I have to
credit the local mega-church for some of that --- they really have a
way of training people to serve, and Leona came from there.

There are others: young couples full of promise, full of challenge,
and wanting to really make a difference. Singles with hopes and
dreams and passion and talent. It is the stuff of pastoral dreams.
But it doesn't come problem-free. People are complex. Relationships
are messy. Group dynamics are difficult. In a constantly growing,
constantly changing environment stability is difficult to maintain.
It really feels sometimes like we are juggling chainsaws.

There are some areas of success, for which I can take no credit;
there are areas of difficulty and challenge for which only I will be
blamed. Such is the nature of "the-buck-stops-here" leadership, I
suppose. We have people who need to be more closely mentored and it
seems there is never enough time. There are changes that need to be
made in programs and leadership and I am often too slow to act,
making it even more difficult when I finally act. God is about to
send more capable leadership our way to help with leadership
development, and His timing is always perfect.

I hate goodbyes.

Living, as we do, in a place where transient military families are part of the reality, you'd think it would get easier to say goodbye when people move on.

It doesn't.

What are the options? We can hold people at arm's length and try not to get close to avoid the hurt that will inevitably come when they leave; or we can open our hearts and our arms and love intensely while knowing a departure will come.

This summer we have said goodbye to too many people. The Waters family left for a new assignment, the Andrew family likewise. Gus Fimbres went to San Diego to care for his aging father, and Mike, Roxanne and Jenna Doidge moved to Gig Harbor, Washington upon Mike's retirement from the U.S. Navy. They were with us for almost six years, a very long time as military assignment go. Even after 31 years of military service and achieving the rank of Commander Mike was about the least-likely Naval Officer I have ever known. Roxanne was pretty much single-handedly responsible for nudging Windward Worship Center out of our warm, complacent cocoon and into the world of caring for the homeless and the forgotten.

It is not productive to live life with our eyes focused on the rear-view mirror, so we take what was wonderful, and enriching and joyful in each of those relationships - we build upon those things and allow them to propel us forward, and we treasure the memories.

And still, we hate goodbyes.

Langley, or is it Lingle?

I posted my very elementary family tree online and got an email from a Pastor in Oregon who does genealogical research as a hobby.  He found info that might fill in a lot of blanks for me if it can be verified.  He wrote…

    Is there any chance that your Grandfather Charles Langley could have gone by the last name "Lingle"? 

    In my research I came up with a "Charles W. Lingle" being listed as the father of your dad. It may just be due to someone elses sloppy     genealogy research (which is what I would guess happened). What I found says that this Charles Lingle was born in 1873 in Indiana the son of Benjamin Lingle and Ruth Lindley. It lists your dad as being his son from an unknown marriage, with siblings Ethel, Gertrude, Julius, Pelham, Geneva, & Mary. 

    It also said he (Charles Lingle) had a wife named Stella Davidson, and they had three children Robert, Ralph, & Frances. 

This has me amazed. I never could quite figure out why things seemed to come to a dead end when we tried to trace my father's family, and now it is possible that there could be a different last name involved. I could have ended up named Gary Lingle instead of Gary Langley.  (Not sure how I feel about that. It is a bit like learning you were adopted.) 

Lingle is a fine name -- in fact, Linda Lingle is the current Governor of my fine State of Hawaii.  But how different would life had been with a different last name? Is the Shakespearean quote  true?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet."

    --Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

Names have meaning, significance. In the Bible a change of heart or destiny was often marked by a change of name. Would I have been the same person I am now with a different name? Perhaps a better person?

Funny thing is, the same situation exists on my Mother's side of the family. My mom's maiden name was Hartley… we thought. When I was a teenager the grandpa I had never met showed up, and I discovered that his name was really Hardee. Hardee, not Hartley. It was complicated, but essentially he had more than one family over the years, and in the one into which my mother was born he went by the last name Hartley.

Hartley/ Hardee / Langley / Lingle -- what's in a name, indeed.

The futility of vanity blogging

I read some statistic that said there are about 10 or 11 MILLION blogs active on-line. Another article estimated 32 miliion.

Thirty-two MILLION attempts to put some thoughts, some ideas, some concepts before the reading public, as if we might have a unique perspective the world needs to hear. Fat chance.

I did an experiment and started randomly clicking the little link at the top of many blogs… the link that takes you to some other randomly selected blog, and then another, and another. I hit several dozen, one right after another, and found content intriguing enough to pause and read on only 3 or 4. (One was, for example, a very SCARY musing by a guy from SIngapore who proposed a second holocaust targeting the Malay population of SIngapore before they overrun the country and pollute the gene pool. ?????)

Who reads these things, anyway? It is difficult to believe anyone does.

A little sociological experiment is proposed: If you actually stumble onto this -- either by accident or intentionally -- and read it, post a comment and at least say where you are from. I will be SHOCKED if there are any comments here in a week. Or a month for that matter.

Blogs are an exercise in vanity and futility.