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If you’ve never read Philemon, you should. Go get your bible and read it. I’ll wait right here………………Pretty good stuff, huh? Wedged between bible heavyweights Titus and Hebrews, Philemon is a short letter from the Apostle Paul that packs a punch. Now, Philemon is a friend of Paul’s, a model Christian, an active worker for Christ, and a slave owner. While imprisoned, Paul meets Philemon’s runaway slave, Onesimus. Onesimus has apparently stolen something from his master and has fled to Rome. Under Roman law, Philemon had every right to put Onesimus to death.

Paul writes this letter to his friend to convince him not only to forgive this runaway slave, but to welcome him home as a brother in Christ. There are a whole lotta lessons in this short letter, but to keep me on task, I’m going to focus on one train of thought.

“Therefore, although in Christ I could be bold and order you to do what you ought to do, yet I appeal to you on the basis of love. I then, as Paul — an old man and now also a prisoner of Christ Jesus — I appeal to you for my son Onesimus, who became my son while I was in chains. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he has become useful both to you and me.” (2:8-11)

Because Paul was an elder and an apostle, he could have commanded that Philemon welcome Onesimus home with open arms. But instead, he chooses to appeal to his friend’s Christian commitment. He wanted him to want to take Onesimus back, not as a slave, but as an equal in the Body of Christ. I don’t know about you, but when someone tells me I have to do something, my mind goes into overdrive coming up with all the reasons why I don’t have to. When you counsel a friend about overcoming sinful behavior, do you blast them with bible verses, or do you appeal to what you see as their strengths? Do you give them some wiggle room and trust that the Holy Spirit will have a say in the matter? I hope we all do that.

“I am sending him — who is my very heart — back to you. I would have liked to keep him with me so that he could take your place in helping me while I am in chains for the gospel. But I did not want to do anything without your consent, so that any favor you do will be spontaneous and not forced. Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while was that you might have him back for good — no longer a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother. He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a man and as a brother in the Lord.” (2:12-16)

Paul is saying, “This is a great guy, I’d love for him to stay with me, but because I love you both, I’m sending him back so that you can be blessed by what he has become. You haven’t lost a slave, you’ve gained a loyal friend and a brother in Christ. But hey, the ball’s in your court.” Again — ample wiggle room.

“So, if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has done you any wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand. I will pay it back — not to mention that you owe me your very self. I do wish, brother, that I may have some benefit from you in the Lord; refresh my heart in Christ. Confident of your obedience, I write to you, knowing that you will do even more than I ask.” (2:17-21)

When you know someone that’s new to the faith, do you personally invest in their lives? Do you “cover their bets”, so to speak? Or do you give them a big hug, welcome to the family and say, “Good luck with all of THAT!”? You wouldn’t teach your child to swim one day and then let them go to the pool by themselves the next. You hang out in the shallow end, cheer them on as they tread water, and make sure you’re there in case they get into trouble. Which, by the way, they usually do. Trust that people will do the right thing, but don’t be offended or surprised when they don’t. Forgive them as Christ forgives you, help them up and get them back on track.

There’s a whole bunch of good stuff in this little letter; many rabbit trails I could go down, but for now, It’s enough for me to reflect on just a few of them. We never learn how the homecoming turns out, but I imagine a really cool reunion, where we see Onesimus walking toward Philemon (whose hoping that Onesimus will find his way back, but doesn’t know for sure). Philemon looks up from what he’s doing, recognizes Onesimus from a distance, stands up, starts walking toward his old slave and new friend. The camera zooms out for a wide shot, then fades to black….think last scene in The Shawshank Redemption.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I live in Texas, and proudly so. Even though I’ve lived here most of my life, I do remember and miss the four seasons of my home state of Virginia, which technically is a commonwealth, but I digress…

In many parts of America, people have been enjoying cooler temperatures and the changing of the leaves from green to beautiful shades of yellow, orange and red. And while we’ve had a few days here of cooler weather, I’m still wearing my flip flops in the middle of November, and things don’t look particularly “fallish”. No matter;  I set out yesterday to look for signs of fall in my neighborhood.

Besides, who’s to say that one must only enjoy the colors of fall if they happen to fall from a tree? Sure, I had to pay close attention, but there were fall colors all around:

Lots of beautiful bursts of yellow:




And my favorite color any time of year, red:


Okay, so maybe we don’t have bus loads of tourists heading our way to behold the beautiful fall color, but did I mention I’m still wearing flip flops? In November?

And there truly is beauty to be found if you just slow down long enough to notice it:

Like many 13 year old boys, my son plays video games. Much to my dismay, most of them are somewhat violent, and we’ve gone round and round about what is appropriate and what isn’t. The games he is allowed to play (and honestly, the only ones he’s interested in) are military games. We’ve discussed at length the difference between warfare and gratuitous violence. He’s a smart kid and I honestly think he understands the difference.

More recently, he has told us that he wants to enter the military after high school. And while the mother in me is wary of that, I’m also proud of him. My heart tells me he understands the concept of honor; that there are some things worth fighting for. Even dying for.

Then I found this poem he wrote in the 4th grade, which I’ve posted here before. Yes, I think he understands.

I am William B. Travis
I wonder when this war will end
I hear screams of dead men
I see death
I want this war to end
I am William B. Travis
I pretend I am not here
I feel confident
I touch my rifle
I worry I might die
I cry to God I will be alive
I am William B. Travis
I understand that I must do my duty
I say I want freedom
I dream that I will see my family again
I try not to worry
I hope this war will end soon
I am William B. Travis

Several years ago, before the days of ipods and music downloads, I bought a CD on a whim. I’d never heard of the artist before, but something drew me to that CD. I now own 4 CDs by Jonathan Butler. He’s an amazingly talented acoustic guitarist with a voice like butter. He’s also a Christian, although not all of his work would be categorized in that genre.

I came across this song again recently and recalled how listening to it helped me through some difficult times. I share it today along with a prayer for anyone stumbling through the dark to look up. Miracles really do happen.

In a Miracle (by Jonathan Butler)

I know you feel like letting go
You’ve suffered more than I could know
But if you’d seen the things that I’ve seen
Hold on my brother now,
It wont be long

Don’t think that He’s forgotten you
He’s by your side within you too
Through your worst fears
He’s right there
Waiting for you now
Waiting for you

He can make any desert bloom
In a heart like yours there’s room
for changes
and the change is coming soon
Don’t you know it’s just begun?
We’ll move that mountain with love

In a miracle

And all the things you used to know
Like skies of blue and fields of snow
With my hand on my heart
I promise they are
waiting for you now
waiting for you

He can make any desert bloom
in a heart like yours there’s room
for changes
and the change is coming soon
Don’t you know it’s just begun?
We’ll move that mountain with love

In a miracle

There’s no limt to
all the things He can do
Imagine what He can do for you
He’ll rescue you safe
from the prison of pain
and back to your life again

Tears bring Him closer
closer to you

He can make any desert bloom
in a heart like yours there’s room
for changes
and the change is coming soon
Don’t you know it’s just begun?
We’ll move that mountain with love

In a miracle

Hey y’all. I apologize for the leftovers. I’ve been a little overwhelmed this week. This was originally posted in March of last year, so it may be new to some of you.

There are many reasons why I don’t watch Martha Stewart on television. Here’s another one. The following is an excerpt from the opening of her show yesterday. I recorded it and typed what she said verbatim, with the exception of a few uhs and ums. The comments in parentheses are my thoughts as I’m watching this touching little dog tribute.

“I think all of you have heard this already. There was a tragic propane tank explosion at the Pazazz Pet Boarding Kennel in Carbon County, PA. (Actually no. My satellite provider does not offer the 24 hour All Dogs News Network.) And it resulted in the death of at least 17, probably a few more dogs. Among those who perished was Paw Paw’s grandson, Ghenghis Khan who I picked to become one of my own dogs. (Who is Paw Paw?) And fortunately Karen Tracy the co-owner and trusted Chow breeder of the kennel did not sustain any injuries, but her home was very badly damaged. (Well, praise God that she is not injured.) She is currently living with her brother nearby. I spoke with Karen yesterday and she told me that three of her Chows are at the veterinarian in intensive care. I think two more died yesterday of injuries. But the good news is that there are still a few dogs remaining from Paw Paw’s lineage, and I’m very grateful for that. Paw Paw was such a great dog. (Oh, Martha! That’s great. We need to keep breeding lots and lots of dogs, especially dogs with bloodlines from a dog that was special enough to be owned by you. It’s not like thousands of dogs are being euthanized everyday because nobody wants them.) Despite the horrific tragedy, Karen remains hopeful and optimistic and plans to rebuild her kennels. (By the way, what happened to the driver of the propane tanker? I’m sure he’s okay, since you haven’t mentioned him yet.) So I’d like to wish a speedy recovery, also to Timothy Kleinhagen, who was the truck driver who was delivering the propane that somehow exploded, and he is in critical condition since the explosion. So, anyway (SO, ANYWAY?!?) – Timothy courageously attempted to remove the dogs from harm’s way before narrowly escaping very serious tragedy himself. (You mean he’s still not out of the woods, and will probably spend several months in the hospital undergoing painful rehabilitation? Well, that sucks. But at least he saved some of your precious dogs.) So, Karen wanted me to tell you how touched and grateful she is by the tremendous outpouring from the public. Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah…”

Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not a dog hater. Dogs are great. And I was actually sympathetic as I watched and listened to her outpouring of sadness and regret about the loss of her puppy and the other dogs. That is, until she mentioned a HUMAN BEING who is in intensive care as a result of this tragedy almost as an afterthought! Give me a freaking break! If you check out her blog, there are more tributes to dogs past and present with lots of pictures, and approximately one sentence devoted to the man who risked his life in an attempt to save them. Ridiculous! Almost as ridiculous as that stupid woman who publicly mourned the loss of her pet chimp while her friend clings to life in the hospital with her face torn off. (But don’t get me started…)

Lately I’ve been having what seems to be a never ending struggle with my daughter and her room. Every day I ask her to clean it up and every day she assures me she will. I believe she believes herself when she promises to do so, but I think she suffers from what I often suffer from. The feeling of being overwhelmed by all the stuff. So rather than taking on small tasks and doing a little at a time, she gives up and simply lives in the mess. I’ve been tempted to clean it for her on several occasions. Have done so, actually. But I want her to take ownership of her space.

Alas, we are at an impass. Because if I allow her to take ownership of it, I must also accept that her room will never be as neat as I want it to be. I have to surrender control to her. Lately, that’s what I’ve done. I’ve simply avoided being in her room for any extended period of time.

Until this morning.

After she had left for school, I took a deep breath, promised myself I would not come unglued, and ventured into the land of unseen carpet. It was bad, but I’ve seen it in worse shape. I decided that rather than doing a major overhaul, I would simply put everything into manageable piles.

I’ve decided on a new plan of attack. Rather than demanding that she keep it clean all by herself, rather than getting fed up and doing it all myself, we’re going to sort through the mess together.

Because sometimes little girls get overwhelmed. Small messes become bigger messes and try as they might, they can’t ever seem to get to a place where things are right again all by themselves. They need someone who has been where they are to say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this all by yourself. I’m here to help you find your way out of this mess, and once it’s clean again you can manage it on your own again. But just remember, you’re never really alone. I’m always here to lend a helping hand. All you have to do is ask.”

Eight women sit together Sunday evening
I know all by name, but most not much more than that
Tonight’s topic? Wounds.

We watch the DVD.
I see women on the screen as they share past hurts
And while these are real women with real hurts
I am largely unaffected
These are strangers to me

I wonder if I’ll be willing to share any part of my story
when we turn off the DVD.
I’m expecting awkward silence

But instead, the woman in the group I know best
shares something I never knew
I marvel at her courage
because knowing her as I do
I understand how difficult the sharing must be

One by one we each share something painful from our pasts

I see my own past hurts mirrored in other stories
Not the same scenarios so much
as the weight they’ve carried
because they’ve seen themselves
as damaged goods
unworthy somehow
of their heart’s desires

I say a silent prayer
I ask God to help them see themselves
for who they are
caring
strong
kind
worthy
beautiful
and worth fighting for

Dare I ask Him
to help me see
the same in me?

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” ~ John 10:10

I’m a big fan of words. Not individual words per sea, but when words are strung together in such a way as to affect us deeply. Whether the results manifests themselves in a good laugh, a good cry, a call to action, or some combination of all of the above. Words are powerful.

Two forms of word play I have particular affection for are quotes and song lyrics. I don’t know why. I’ve just always admired a good quote. A small collection of words that conveys a powerful concept. As for lyrics, I think there’s something magical about combining thoughtful words and music, especially when it seems as though the songwriter has somehow peeked into your heart and found a piece of your own story.

Yesterday, with a song that’s been playing in my head for the past several days, I came across a quote that was in opposition with said song. It left me feeling conflicted, because I tend to agree that the words in the song and the words in the quote were both true, even though they were at odds with one another. Here’s the quote:

“It’s better to keep grief inside. Grief inside works like bees or ants, building curious and perfect structures, complicating you. Grief outside means you want something from someone, and chances are good you won’t get it.”
~ Hilary Thayer Hamann (Anthropology of an American Girl)

As I spoke these words aloud though, they felt bitter in my mouth. Grief outside often does indeed mean you want something from someone, and the stiff upper lip side of me tends to agree. “Stop whining,” it says. “Don’t burden someone else with your problems.There are certain things that must remain unsaid. Bury them deep and no one gets hurt,” and on and on.

But those aren’t the words I want to believe. The words I want to believe are these:

Say (by John Mayer)

Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put ‘em in quotations

Say what you need to say [x8]

Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you’d be better off instead,
If you could only . . .

Say what you need to say [x8]

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You’d better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open

Say what you need to say [x24]

I’ve thought about both the quote and the song quite a bit. Maybe it’s just me, but I think the quote comes from someone who builds walls around herself. Walls built in an effort to insulate her from getting hurt again. I understand that. But I also think those walls don’t really insulate you from pain. They just keep others out, and by doing so, allow you to focus on yourself almost exclusively. (A sure recipe for misery.) They’re also pretty painful for those who are trying to get through them to reach you. And sometimes words left unsaid are every bit as painful as the ones that are. Sometimes moreso.

Are you holding back words you need to share?
“I’m proud of you.”
“I believe in you.”
“You make me smile.”
“Thank you for being there for me.”
“I know this is difficult, but I’m here for you.”
“I wish things could be different.”
“Things are going to be okay.”
“I love you.”
“Hang on.”

I think I’ll vote for reaching out and saying what needs saying. It just might be exactly what someone needs to hear today…

Recent media reports have once again brought the nation’s attention to the age old problem of bullying. It’s nothing new, it just seems the consequences for the victims are so heartbreaking and severe these days. There are cries for new laws and legislation and for better education of our kids about the consequences of bullying.

My 13 year old son came home last week and informed me everyone at his school signed a “No bullying” contract. He also said it was a worthless piece of paper. Kids signed their papers and went right on being horrible to one another.

To exacerbate the problem, we have a generation of kids who have been raised on the self-esteem bandwagon. They’ve been told by parents and teachers that they can be anything they want to be. This is nice in theory, but it’s simply not true. When you teach a child they are entitled to anything they want, their needs and desires become their priority. Is it any wonder so many think so little of their peers? Especially the ones who they deem of no value to them? So those who bully feel entitled to bully and those who are victimized feel entitled not to be victimized. Please don’t misunderstand–I am not blaming the victims of bullying, only suggesting that their tolerance level may be lower because they’ve been taught that respect is something to be given and not earned.

So is there a solution? The short, unfortunate answer is no. There will always be bullys and those who are bullied. But I think the kids that are rarely mentioned in these scenarios are the ones who can help change the tide–the kids who are neither the bullys nor the victims. We need to encourage our kids to stand up for the underdog, to stop minding their own business and get involved.

The following clip is my favorite scene in “A Few Good Men”. I think Lance Corporal Harold Dawson has the best line in the entire movie:

At 1:40 in the video the following exchange takes place:

Pfc. Downey: What does that mean? Hal, what did that mean? I don’t understand. Colonel Jessup said he ordered the Code Red.

Lt Commander Galloway: I know…

Pfc. Downey: Colonel Jessup said he ordered the code red. What did we do wrong?

Lt. Commander Galloway: It’s not that simple…

Pfc. Downey: What did we do wrong? We did nothing wrong!

Lance Corporal Dawson: Yeah, we did. We were supposed to fight for people who couldn’t fight for themselves. We were supposed to fight for Willie.

May we all find the courage to fight for Willie.

“The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who in times of great moral crises maintain their neutrality.” 
~ Dante

Thanks to my buddy Mike Ellis, whose post Bullying Sucks inspired this post.