too smart for my own good

I like the title of my post today.  It sounds like I'm talking about myself.  But alas, I am not.  Jakob is the one that is too smart for my own good.  Sometimes he does things that we don't expect him to do, and it makes us proud knowing that he is a smart boy, and other times he does things that indicate he is not just smart, but perhaps an evil genius with plans to overthrow us.  He likes to vacuum.  He knows how to turn the vacuum on and pushes it around, back-and-forth like Sarah.  He also knows how to turn on the dishwasher, unlock it when it is done, and he puts the silverware away in the right drawer, but not quite the right order.  He's not tall enough to see, which he inherited from me.  He knows how to turn a movie on on his iPod, break the iPod, and then fix it when we are at a loss for what he has done.  He picks up many things he sees, and being a quiet, loner type, he sits and figures other things out.  All of these habits are all well and good.  Counting Sarah, it gives us two people in the house that like to clean.

But like the Force, there is a dark side to his intelligence.  He can be cunning and deceptive.  I put him in his bed last night, and he wasn't too thrilled to be going to sleep.  Sometimes he lays right down, and other times he throws a fit.  I guess that's normal.  Last night, as he was throwing a fit, I decided to stay and play with him to calm him down before leaving his room.  I picked up his blanket and put it over my head, and I asked, "Where's Daddy?"  He kind of laughed while still crying as he pulled the blanket off my head.  I did it a second time, and this time, he laughed a little bit and stopped crying.  The third time I did it, he laughed pretty hard.  Since it was working, and I'm kind of a one trick pony, I went for four straight times.  I put his blanket over my head, asked where I was, and instead of having the blanket ripped from my head, I heard scooting.  He had timed me like a batter times a pitcher.  He lulled me into a false sense of peekaboo security.  I put the blanket over my head, and he knew it would stay there until he pulled it off.  He felt unguarded and tried to get away.  Sadly for him, it's a toddler bed, and there's only one quick way in or out, and it was just to my right.  I caught him in the act.  I put my right hand up at the last second, and he crashed into it.  He was stuck in the bed.

I will admit to being proud of him.  It was a fine display of intelligence.  I laughed out loud when I realized what he was doing.  I hugged him, told him I loved him, and put him back in his bed.  It also worried me, though.  I suspect our hands will be more and more full in the years to come.  He really is and will be too smart for my own good.

love each other

It was a simple command: love each other.  Love other Christians.  The commandment is simple, but the execution isn't always easy. I would venture to say that it would be impossible to find any Christian today who is beloved by all other Christians.  We have personalities.  We have differences. Add in that not every Christian makes himself oh-so lovable, and some even go out of their way to be abrasive, and these simply understood words become even more difficult to follow.

You don't have to spend too much time in church or around Christians to find out who people do and don't like in the Christian world.  We haven't traditionally been very guarded with that kind of information.  Some even feel like it's their Christian duty to put down others in the name of defending doctrine.  It's easy to do.  I've never found it difficult.  Doug Fields said, "Criticism is low-hanging fruit–it’s such an easy and attractive tactic for an unhappy person."  He's spot on.  It takes little to no effort to criticize.

It certainly doesn't take any work of God in our lives.  There is no spiritual gift of grumbling, although if there were, we could all pick out the ones we know that really exemplify it.  The world will hate us, especially for what we do in the name of Christ.  Being devoid of God, they still have criticism and hate down pat.  Let's be different.

Ephesians 4:31-32 tells us to, "Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behavior. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you."

Let's not hate on each other.  Maybe we could show grace towards other Christians, be kind and forgiving, and not completely write someone off for one thing we dislike about them.  Let's follow His command to love  each other.

an annual birthday tradition

Saturday was Jakob's second birthday.  It was a great day, and even though I should have been doing school work, I mostly sloughed that off to spend the day with him.  Or, you might say he was the opportunity for further procrastination.  I honestly think it's a combination, but I really do love him, so I give him more credit in this.  If you want a pictorial history of his day, you can watch a video HERE.

Saturday was also the first night game in the history of the Big House, where U of M plays its home games.  They were playing the hated Notre Dame.  The very first game I ever watched with Jakob was  a Michigan v. Notre Dame game.  He was born on a Thursday, and Sarah wasn't discharged from the hospital till Sunday afternoon.  So of course we watched the Michigan game in the hospital room.  It was an exciting game, both because I held my precious newborn in his U of M outfit, and because it went right down to the very end.  Oh, and Michigan won, which put it over the top.  My first game with Jakob was a win.

Last year, I spent the day of the Michigan v. Notre Dame game with Jakob.  He was still small enough and inactive enough to be convinced to sit on my lap.  I couldn't do that now, but he did last year.  Together, we (or I) watched Michigan beat them at the very end of the game.  Two years in a row, it was the most exciting Michigan game of the year, you know, because they actually won.

So now Jakob has been around for three Michigan v. Notre Dame games, and all three have gone down to the very end of the fourth quarter, with Michigan crushing their dreams and the ND fans' hearts.  It has become an annual tradition to watch this happen, and it'll always be right around his birthday.  I look forward to next year.

let the last time be the last time

We're finishing up our Surrender series by Francis Chan this Sunday.  The topics that have been covered have been Surrender Stuff, Surrender Status, Surrender Sin, and this Sunday will be Surrender Self.  It's so nicely alliterated.  I recommend it solely based on that (and the teaching really has been good, too).  After each video, there is time for group discussion.  After watching the video on surrendering sin, I got up to discuss, but it took a more teachy approach (not that I'm putting that down, because I think it worked).

One thing I talked about is that I've personally noticed how difficult it is to quit sinning, especially when you grow accustom to your sin.  You can even get to a point of disgust with it, but you can fool yourself into continuing indefinitely with one simple thought: "Okay, I swear this is the last time."  How many times have you told yourself right before sinning that this will be the last time?  In comparison, how many times has it turned out to truly be the last time?  We allow ourselves to sin, and when the next opportunity comes up, we often tell ourselves the same lie again, and we tend to fall for it again and again.  This is the last time.

It's kind of a crazy if you think about it.  Why do you think about making this the last time?  Probably because the Holy Spirit is convicting you, shouting to you, "NO!  Don't do that again!"  So you tell yourself (and Him) that it's okay, this will be the last time.  What you're really saying is, "Please be quiet.  I want to sin."  You blow off the Holy Spirit's convicting you, and you proceed.  I know how this goes.  I've been through this.  But then I felt the conviction turned up a notch when I said, "This will be the last time," once.  Because I felt like God's response was, "No, let last time be the last time."

That's now what I tell myself when I am tempted to sin.  It's not a fool proof method, because I am strongly a fool, and I fail, but it works a lot more often than giving myself one last sinful hurrah after one last sinful hurrah.

So do you struggle with lusty sins?  Stealing?  Cheating on tests?  Whatever it is that you struggle with, let the last time be the last time.

two scoops of apple butter

I like most things made from apples.  Apple flavored Jolly Ranchers were my favorite ones to steal from my youth pastor's office.  My current favorite dessert is Sarah's upside down caramel apple and walnut pie, and it replaced regular old homemade apple pie.  Those caramel apple suckers are the best suckers of all time...of all time!  I have drank so much apple cider during one day to make myself sick, and I still bought another gallon the next day.  And then there's the caramel apple (I obviously love the combination): I'll be making up for lost time with those after I get back into shape.

But there is one apple based delicacy I have been unable to enjoy for four years now: apple butter.  I used to really like it.  I have never liked grape jelly too much, so I mostly ate strawberry.  Apple butter was a great alternative I got probably once a year when we'd venture to Shipshewana.  What isn't to like about apples smashed to a spreadable pulp?  We'll get there.

You know what else is traditionally awesome?  Two scoops.  Really doesn't matter how it's being used.  Two scoops of raisins in every box?  I'll buy that.  Two scoops of ice cream?  Yup, that's better than one.  How many scoops of sugar in your coffee?  Two, you say?  Yes, of course.  It is a wildly popular amount of scoops of anything.  So the thought of two scoops of apple butter should bring a smile to anyone's face, especially my apple-loving face.  But it doesn't.

When I worked at Baymeadows in Florida, we did old fashion visitation, or at least in a sense.  I was filling in one evening for one of the other pastors, which put me with people I wasn't used to spending time with.  It was a much older crowd, and I didn't spend a lot of time with the elderly.  I spent the bulk of my time with the teenagers and the Christian school students.  So it was bound to be different, if not a little awkward.  Just when I thought things were going well, Amish country came up.  I mentioned how I liked going when I was a kid, because I liked the chicken, the apple butter, and going places with my mom.  That's when my life changed.  A very elderly lady reached over and put her hand on the back of my hand.  I thought she was going to say how sweet it was that I liked going places with my mom.  Elderly ladies tend to appreciate that.  But no, that wasn't it.  She kept her hand on my hand, looked me in the eye, and in a very sincere voice said...

"I love apple butter.  I have two scoops every day on my toast.  It keeps me regular."

It was a scarring moment.  I think of it every time I see apple butter on the shelf.  I could not take having it in my house.  I don't need permanent reminders.

what I no longer want to be

micoach screen shot, describing my completed workout and how I felt about it: I hated its guts.

I have a knack for surprising people with a special talent: I'm fast.  But there are a lot of fast people, and certainly most people are faster than me.  So what's the big surprise?  I'm really fast...for a fat guy.  Some have said that I'm deceptively fast.  I just don't look like I'd be quick, which is probably a better word for it.  My quick bursts do not last long enough to make me a fast mile runner, because until last week, I hadn't run a mile in over 5 years, partly because I wouldn't want to, and partly because I couldn't.

I used to brag about being a really fast fat guy.  It didn't bother me much.  I wasn't happy overall with my physique, but hey, at least Sarah still loved me, and at least I was still fast.  But I don't much feel like bragging about it anymore.  I've grown tired of the instant joke material it creates.  I do not like putting a shirt on in the morning and hoping it still fits.  Sucking in to do up my pants doesn't much appeal to me, either.

I don't want to be fast for a fat guy anymore.  I want to be viewed as kind of slow for being in such good shape.  So I've been working hard.  Thanks to the encouragement of Sarah and other friends - not to start, but to be successful - I've got my act mostly together.  I'm no where near where I want to be, but I'm moving in that direction steadily.

I've cut out pop.  I've begun counting and tracking my calories on the myfitnesspal app for my phone.  I track my workouts.  I go to the gym two or three times a week, and I'm committed to running and walking at least 2 miles (combined) one other day.  I track my progress on my runs using the micoach app.  And I didn't start last week.  I've held off on mentioning it until it became a solid part of my routine.  Anyone can diet and exercise for two or three weeks straight.  I know I've done it many times before.  But this time, I think it's different.  I have goals, I have the tools, and I actually have the ambition.  I've bee working out for 6 straight weeks, and I've lost 2 pounds per week all but two weeks.  I don't like missing the gym, which is what led to running in the first place.  I have to exercise.

What are my ultimate goals?  First, to throw away every pair of fat pants and never buy them again.  I want to move down to at least a 32-inch waist, which means addressing the Starbucks' proportioned muffin top above the waist.  If  I stay on track, that's attainable by Christmas or shortly after.  I hate shots, so I want to avoid diabetes, which runs in my family.  I like clothes.  I want to wear them and enjoy them and not hold my breath hoping to be able to button them without sucking in.  And I want to honor Sarah, who's gained all of 5 pounds in 10 years of marriage and carrying one child.

So I'm on a journey.  Feel free to encourage me, and I look forward to the day when you say, "Huh.  You know, you're kind of slow."

I come from a stiff necked people.

If you grew up in church like me, and you had a youth pastor whose goal was to teach you the entire Old Testament in three years of Sunday school (we only covered Genesis, Job, and Exodus while I was in there), and the only version you were allowed to learn from was the King James Version, then you would know that the Jews were a "stiff-necked people."  If you read or watch the news, you'll occasionally see the modern day evidence of this still being true.  And so it should come as no surprise to you that I am an obstinate man.  That's the non-KJV way of saying stiff-necked.

One area that I am particularly to digging my heels in over is Christian movies and books.  People have instigated me without being anything more than friendly and perhaps slightly pushy in their wording.  Saying things like, "You have to read/watch/do this!," especially about something I'm not particularly interested in consuming in the first place, can cause it.  Examples: "You have to read The Shack!  You'll love it!"  I didn't read it.  I probably wouldn't have liked it.

I cannot say for sure where this comes from, other than the obvious (my heritage).  Maybe it stems from, "You have to see Facing the Giants," because although I was promised I'd love it, I didn't.  Then everyone insisted I would love Fireproof, and I hated it.  After having a planning meeting with two of my youth pastor friends with similarly silly Christian backgrounds, I think I am better able to put a finger on it.  Maybe it's most likely that I am permanently scarred from all the ridiculous Christian movies I watched growing up at "watch night services."  You know the ones where people are left behind, others go to Hell, and some were even beheaded?  Yeah, those movies.  I think it's likely that I haven't liked Christian movies since I was a kid (except the Butter Cream Gang, and there's no explanation for my liking that one).

I think I will just stick to the Bible and books written by pastors whose teaching and writing don't make me want to jam pencils in my ears.  I will stick to movies that interest me, and not be guilted into seeing anything I think will bore me.  I say all that to say this: please don't invite me to see Courage with you.  My heels are already deep in the earth over this movie, and it's not even out yet.  I know the message is great, but I can get the same message from Deuteronomy 6 and the life of my parents.  I don't need B actors (and that might be a compliment) to get it.