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Comment by Chris S Heinz on July 22, 2008 at 2:52pm

Building Something Together

“Shallum…repaired the next section with the help of his daughters. The Valley Gate was repaired by Hanun and the residents of Zanoah. They rebuilt it and put its doors and bolts and bars in place.” (Nehemiah 3.12-13a)

There is more joy building something together than building it alone. That’s what I learned from many of you. Three months ago we started a campaign called the Yes We Can Van Campaign. The point of the project was to raise enough money to buy a reliable, safe, somewhat new van for a family of six – one mother and five children. And you know what? You came through. I just signed the check and handed the keys over, watched as the salesman showed Lorraine the features of her new van. And I was filled with joy at what we did together.

It was a little what Nehemiah might have felt as he surveyed the new walls of Jerusalem, after they had been rebuilt. You see, the beloved city’s walls were broken down by wars – destroyed and burned-out. Nehemiah thought he should do something. So he rallied the entire community to rebuild the walls. And they did it together. If you read the book of Nehemiah, you know what I mean that they did it together. I don’t know how many individuals are mentioned by name, but it’s a lot. Each adds his or her own part: Shallum and his daughters, they repair one part of the wall; Hanun and the people of Zanoah, they attach the doors and bolts and bars (You know the old saying – Get your hardware from Zanoah, don’t you know – ah); and others, well, they do their part to complete the wall.

So while we didn’t build a wall, we built a van, many of us.

Of the 57 donors, 49 are individuals, three are businesses and five are non-profit organizations. We come from ten different states and even Canada. We are professors and programmers, students and salesmen, baristas and book worms, golfers and grannies. Some of us work from home; some of us don’t leave the office; some of us are unemployed. We’re preparing to marry, preparing to travel, preparing to homeschool, preparing to study. Some of us are rich and not very old while others are old and not very rich. A bunch are in-between. But it doesn’t matter. Point is we built a van – together.

I think it’s more satisfying this way – 57 donors total – than if one person wrote a big check. Sure, that would have been cool and it would have been quick, but we would have missed out on building together. The story would have gone like this:

Daddy Warbucks bought a van.

Whereas the story we wrote is more like this:

John wheeled in the four tires while Kasey draped the seat belts around her neck like a scarf. Following close behind was Nick, who gripped the spark plugs tightly, knowing he couldn’t lose them. Delivering her part with Olympic flair, Maggie made discuss-throwing motions with the steering wheel. Todd, he hoisted the engine with a crane, ready to lower it into the body. Heather stood nearby to cover the naked form with color as soon as every part was added. And when it was complete, everyone let out a loud “Hooray,” which was heard three or four counties away, because together they had built a van.

Which story do you want to be part of?

There is more joy building something together than building it alone.

What should we build next?

Comment by mary jamieson on July 17, 2008 at 5:02pm

i read this verse and i cant find it at the moment (could anyone tell were it is) IF YOU SEE YOUR BROTHER SIN A SIN THATS NOT UNTO DEATH YOU CAN PRAY TO YOUR FATHER TO FORGIVE HIM AND HEAL HIM AND HE WILL)

Comment by Chris S Heinz on July 17, 2008 at 12:47pm

A Great Redemption Story

“Let the redeemed of the LORD say so--those he redeemed from the hand of the foe.” (Psalm 107.2, TNIV)

I have a confession to make. I didn’t watch the Major League Baseball (MLB) All-Star Game. I didn’t even know it was on. In other countries this oversight might not be a big deal. But in America, baseball is known as America’s Past Time. What happens when you don’t participate in it? Does it make you un-American? I’d like to know who actually made the decision to anoint baseball as America’s Sport. Is it written in the Constitution? Scripted somewhere in invisible ink? I don’t remember anyone holding an official vote. In the land of democracy, shouldn’t there have been a vote? I probably wouldn’t have voted for it. I remember only two things about playing baseball as a kid: my pants were too tight, and we had to wait through the entire game to get ice cream afterwards (I realize now there might have been a connection).

But on the other hand, baseball has delivered some great stories. I’d like to tell you one.

Josh Hamilton didn’t play baseball in college. You might have thought college ball was in his future after being named Amateur Player of the Year and High School Player of the Year. But it wasn’t, but not because he wasn’t good enough. Instead of college ball, Hamilton went straight to the professional league. Immediately after high school, he traded his graduation cap for a professional baseball cap. Instead of taking out a college loan, he signed a multi-million dollar contract with a professional team. Hamilton played his first two seasons on minor league teams, where he helped one of them win the league championship.

It was before his third season that he got into drugs. Or rather, that drugs got into him, in a major kind of way. Barely in his twenties, Hamilton would spend the next six years between baseball and drugs and rehab. He played baseball a bit, but mostly he sat out. There was a four year stretch that he didn’t play in one game. Instead of waking up in a clean hotel room because of an away game, he would wake up in a dirty trailer in the countryside or in the cab of his pickup, wherever he got high the night before. It appeared his baseball career was over. But here’s where the story gets good.

Something changed. Hamilton got help, got his addiction under control, and he returned to baseball. He started practicing on his own, then with a team, then played in minor league games. Then the unthinkable happened—he got picked up by a major league team—after mostly everyone, including himself, assumed his career was over. But it wasn’t. He had a solid first season in the majors. In his second season, which is going on now, he is the talk of baseball. He was named Player of the Month twice in a row. He was selected to the All-Star Team as the outfielder with the most votes. He broke the record for the most home runs in a single round in the Home Run Derby. Hamilton is back, better than ever.

And that’s why this story is good. But it’s not what makes this story great. Here’s what makes it great.

Hamilton tells his whole story, not just his rise to baseball fame, but also his fall to drug addiction. It has both a pit and a peak, and he’s not shy about it: “I decided to be open about what happened to me,” he says in a recent ESPN interview, as he describes his drug addiction. But that’s not where his interview ends. He goes on to say: “How am I here? I can only shrug and say, ‘It's a God thing.’ It's the only possible explanation.”

People need to hear great stories, ones with pits and peaks. Stories without pits lack authenticity and connection. Stories without peaks lack hope and promise. We need both elements because we need authenticity and connection, hope and promise. We need to tell what we’ve been redeemed from. And we need to tell what we’ve been redeemed to. Both are necessary to complete the story of redemption. Otherwise, what’s the point?

So get your stories ready for a new official past time…

Telling redemption stories to one another.

Comment by Greg Outlaw on July 12, 2008 at 8:43am

Wow! That was great Chris! Thanks for this thought provoking and funny devo! GOD ROCKS!! and you Rock!

Comment by Chris S Heinz on July 10, 2008 at 9:26am

Rest Stop Ahead

“One day Jesus was praying in a certain place. When he finished, one of his disciples said to him, ‘LORD, teach us to pray…’” (Luke 11.1)

On our drive to New Hampshire last week, we stopped at several rest stops. If I had my way, we wouldn’t have stopped at all. But I’m outnumbered by two females, both of whom have like half a bladder each. And they have to empty them often. I guess I can’t blame my five year-old, who has the bladder of a five year-old, as you might imagine. But my wife, what’s her excuse?

There are two reasons I don’t like stopping at rest stops. For one, it slows us down. We have a destination to get to. If the car’s stopped, then we’re not making forward progress. I mean, once you’re going, don’t you want to keep going? And second, most rest stops are nasty. They’re not at all restful. If I’m not mistaken, aren’t rest stops by their very name and nature supposed to be restful? But they’re not. They create anxiety just by stepping inside them. Last week I wanted to dip myself in ammonia after I entered one.

The world is out of whack and I want to fix it. To do this, I’d like to start a chain of rest stops. These will be the real deal. The rest stops will be called Tinkletown and they’ll be sprinkled throughout the highway system. We’ll air television and radio commercials within 100 miles of each location. These commercials will feature our corporate jingle, which will also be called “Tinkletown” and sung to the tune of “Funkytown:”

Won’t you take me to Tinkletown?
Won’t you take me to Tinkletown?

Can’t you see kids all across the country singing this to their parents? Now this is a real rest stop, finally. But seriously though, don’t we all need rest stops? Even if we’d rather keep going, we’d probably agree the journey is better when we stop and rest. The challenge, though, is making ourselves stop.

I’d like to suggest prayer as the ultimate rest stop, would like to advertise it and sing its jingle, even at the expense of not promoting Tinkletown. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

I don’t know about you, but stopping to pray is difficult. We have momentum in what we’re doing. We’re on our way. We’ve moving forward. And suddenly to stop and pray is, well, stopping. And if we’ve stopped, then we’re not moving. It feels like going backward. Doesn’t matter if we’ve made resolutions to pray more. Usually in the moment, the project takes precedence over prayer. We don’t take a rest stop.

But Jesus did. There are particulars about Jesus’ prayer habits that we can learn from. Whether we work in an office, work in a home office or work at home (no official job but work nonetheless), we can take rest stops during the day. Luke 11.1, this little verse made up of one’s, provides some tips:

“One day” – Jesus doesn’t just pray in the morning before his day begins. He prays during the day, throughout it, when he’s on the job. We might have to change our mindset of when prayer should happen.

“Certain place” – Jesus finds a certain place to pray. I don’t know where it was, but it was somehow different or particular, a certain place. Find your certain place, wherever is a rest stop for you, so you can pray. Go outside, sit in the supply closet, hang out in the bathroom, use an empty room. The key is to take your mind off work, to really stop.

“When he finished” – Jesus has a starting time and finishing time. I don’t know how long it is - five minutes, twenty minutes, sixty minutes? Doesn’t say. The amount of time isn’t important. The point is to stop and pray.

“One of his disciples said to him” – Immediately after Jesus is finished, one of his disciples speaks to him. This gives the impression that they are waiting for him to finish. Even though people are waiting on him, Jesus still takes a rest stop. This is a good lesson for us. There will always be projects and people – new ones replace old ones when we’re done – but there’s no time like now to pray.

“Teach us to pray” – The disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray. This means prayer is not automatic; it’s a discipline. It takes time and effort, doesn’t come easily. So don’t be frustrated if it takes time to develop. Just take the time…

There’s a rest stop ahead.

Comment by Chris S Heinz on July 1, 2008 at 4:04am

Walk on the other side

“Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother [or sister] has something against you, leave your gift…go and be reconciled…If [they] sin against you, go and show [them] their fault….” (Matthew 5.23-24; 18.15)

Driver’s license examiner must be one of the most difficult jobs in the world. For one, the majority of people you’re testing are teenagers. Some teenagers—I’m not saying all of them, but some of them—are known for being, well, impulsive and for not following directions and even some for not thinking things through. And these examiners are supposed to get into a vehicle with said teenagers. And even more, they’re supposed to let them drive. I’m not sure if these teenage qualities are ideal for operating a moving vehicle, much less with you inside.

Furthermore, examiners are not supposed to react, even in ridiculous situations. It’s like they received training from the military or the World Series of Poker on how to keep a straight face. Despite whatever nonsense they encounter from their teenager drivers, they don’t show it. And all the while their insides are screaming. Maybe they’re secretly jamming their pen into their thigh or imagining a terrible accident with their kitten – I don’t know. But whatever their tricks, they work.

My examiner had clearly received special training because what would have broken most people did not break him. You see, I failed my first driver’s test. That examiner said I didn’t use my turn signal enough. So after consulting several experts—my teenage friends—I decided I’d do the opposite from what failed me: I would use my turn signal as much as possible. Seems like good logic, right?

The test started off well. When I had to turn right, I flipped the signal up. When I had to turn left, I flipped it down. I was doing everything right. I could almost smell the photo machine developing my picture, could almost feel the smooth plastic of the license sliding between my fingers. It wouldn’t be long until I could take a girl downtown without my mom in the car. But then the road did a peculiar thing – it curved.

I panicked, not able to remember the rules of turn signals. A little droplet of sweat formed on my forehead as I tried to recall what turn signals were used for. My hands moistened and for the first time I wish I had driving gloves on, although up to that point I never understood the point of them. My mind betrayed me as it ran in various directions: “Do I use the turn signal for turns and winding roads or just for turns?” “It must be for turns only.” “No, what about the curves in the road?” Then I remembered my original strategy – to use the signals as much as possible. And I did.

I signaled at every curve of the road. Yup, if I was winding left, the signal showed it. And when I veered right, my signal lit the way. And all the while, my examiner sat motionless, making little notes on his clipboard. He might have been writing, “moron,” I don’t know. But you wouldn’t know it because he didn’t make a sound – not a giggle, not a grunt, nothing. It wasn’t until I returned the car to its parking spot that he finally spoke: “You failed because you used your turn signal too much.”

I had it both ways: Either I didn’t signal enough or I signaled too much. It was one or the other.

I think forgiveness is this same way: at different times we find ourselves on either side of it. At one time we find ourselves needing to forgive. We’ve been wronged and while we’ve been commanded to forgive, we still struggle to offer it. We’d rather hold the grudge, give the silent treatment, remain in control. For a while it feels good to withhold what only we can offer. So we hold back forgiveness.

That is, until we need to be forgiven. Then we think differently. Then we want forgiveness to be offered quickly to us. Then suddenly we’re the object of the grudge, being treated with silence, helpless. Suddenly we’re at someone else’s mercy until they forgive us. And we have nothing – no leverage, no control, no say. And we long for quick forgiveness. We realize how it is on the other side. Let’s offer forgiveness.

It won’t be long until we’re in need of the same.

Comment by PREACH on June 30, 2008 at 1:22pm

The Word of God:

"Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Curse God and die!" (Job 2:9).

JOB'S WIFE: LEARNING OF GOD AND GRIEF

Shattered by the loss of her children and her wealth; Job's wife was overwhelmed with grief and anger. As her husband agonized with the additional pain of boils all over his body, she lashed out at Job and his God. In essence, she said, "Still hanging on to that God of yours? Lots of good that is doing! Ending your life would be better than living in this misery." The Bible records her words, "Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Curse God and die!" (Job 2:9).

Such is the common reaction to suffering of those with no faith or awareness of God's higher purposes. While intense suffering can blind even the strongest believer to God's love and faithfulness, that blindness should only be temporary. Anger directed at God over the long term displays an unwillingness to trust His higher purposes. Anger denies both the sovereignty and the mercy of God.

Satan, the author of suffering, pain, grief, and loss, hopes to use these weapons to turn people away from God. With Job, Satan's plan didn't work. With Job's wife, however, it did. With people who understand that their lives are in God's hands, the suffering is no less intense, but the outcome is different. Instead of saying, "Curse God," they can say, "The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD" (Job 1:21). In the midst of brokenness, God is there, joins in our pain and sorrow, and shows that His heart is for each one of us.

Wisdom for the Journey:

Man can endure almost any suffering if he can see a purpose or meaning in it. Conversely, he will be miserable even amidst great luxury if he cannot relate his life to some larger context which makes it meaningful. Viktor E. Frankl (1905–)

I owe more to the fire and the hammer and the file than to anything else in my Lord’s workshop. I sometimes question whether I have ever learned anything except through the rod. When my schoolroom is darkened, I see the most. Charles Haddon Spurgeon (1834–1892)

Comment by Chris S Heinz on June 27, 2008 at 6:21am

When forgiving seven times isn’t enough

“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘LORD, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’” (Matthew 18.21-22)

I have a friend who’s a professor of chemical engineering. It’s a wonder we’re friends because he’s really smart. He deals with complex formulas and statistical models every day. I’m happy if I mix my protein shake right or get to work without making a wrong turn. But not him. He probably uses some sort of atomical scale that was purchased by a grant to measure his shake and he probably has eighteen different routes to work, and he chooses the best one based on the time of day, time of year, dew point and daily mean temperature. But we’re friends anyway.

One thing you need to know about him – he uses a digital recorder to remember important thoughts. I guess there’s that many brilliant things going on in his cranium (Me, I could use the discount recorder, the one with the mini memory). The first time he pulled out his digital recorder, I thought he was beaming us up. I expected to see Captain Kirk and Spock. But instead he placed it near his mouth and repeated the last line of our conversation. I actually felt quite pleased, having appeared on his recorder. I imagined him reviewing his recording for the day:

First he hears his thoughts on behavioral physics, then how to make a colloidal machine, then a reminder to meet with his doctoral students, and then sandwiched between jokes about catalytic micropumps (which can actually be quite funny) will be my contribution, my place in the good doctor’s oral record: “Chris says to watch the movie Elf.” Wow, Chris, brilliant. Like I said, it’s a wonder we’re friends.

I appreciate my friend’s digital recorder because I can see my reflection in it. What I mean is, the recorder reminds me of myself, of my innate ability to hold onto things and not let them go. To play them back again and again. To relive them, fresh. Most often I do this when I’ve been wronged, when someone has sinned against me. And I can’t let it go.

Peter asks Jesus how many times he should forgive the same person. He thinks seven times – that’s enough. But Jesus comes back and says, “No, not just seven times, seventy-seven times.” I don’t blame Peter for thinking seven. I mean seven, that’s a lot of offenses from the same person. Can you imagine forgiving the same person seven times? After about two or three, you’re already thinking about walking away. But Jesus says seventy-seven.

To forgive literally means to “send forth, to send away.” This is not referring to sending the offending person away, but sending the offense away. It’s cancelling the debt caused by the offense, because as soon as someone sins against you, there’s a debt owed to you. This system exists because of the law of Justice that God instituted in the world. In forgiveness, the offending person no longer stands condemned for his sin. There is no longer an “account” opened between you. However, let’s be clear what forgiveness is not.

Forgiveness is not forgetting. The offense is sent away, not necessarily the memory. You might still remember what happened, and in some cases you need to remember. But just because you haven’t forgotten doesn’t mean you haven’t forgiven.

Forgiveness is not living like the offense never happened. In fact, it’s living with the consequences of the offense. Certain offenses will necessitate change. If you have to change the relationship—introduce boundaries or regain trust, for example—it doesn’t mean you haven’t forgiven. It means you’re living with the consequences.

So let’s be generous with forgiveness – offer it seventy-seven times if you have to. But be smart about it too.

Like the good professor.

Comment by Greg Outlaw on June 25, 2008 at 5:22pm

Hi Chris! Thanks for adding your voice to theNET!! It's great to have you here! Blessings! Greg

Comment by Chris S Heinz on June 23, 2008 at 7:49pm

Here's an example:

Meeting the Parents

“Finally, brothers [and sisters], whatever is true…think about such things.” (Philippians 4.8)

Here’s a free lesson: On the evening before you meet your future in-laws, do not watch the movie, Meet The Parents. It’s not a good idea, puts all sorts of things in your head, which will mess you up. If you haven’t seen the movie, you can guess what it’s about. A man is meeting his fiancee’s parents for the first time. And because this movie is a comedy, lots of things go wrong and it’s hilarious. But it’s not so funny when you’re living it. Like I did.

First: lost in translation. Colette’s parents are from Massachusetts and both have thick accents. They’re also French Canadian. Put the two together and what do you have? Massachutan-French Canadian. Unfortunately I wasn’t trained in this particular dialect. So at the airport when they greeted me, I had no idea what they were saying. Her mom would open her mouth and certain sounds would come out but it was a great mystery what they meant. Colette had to step in and translate: “SHE SAID SHE’S GLAD TO MEET YOU.” “WOULD YOU LIKE TO STOP FOR DINNER?” After awhile I got the hang of it and now that I’m seven years into the family, we can communicate quite well.

Second: near luggage miss. As we waited at the baggage claim for my luggage, we saw suitcase after suitcase go by. Soon everyone from our flight was gone, but we were still there; my suitcase had not yet arrived. I imagined myself resorting to what the man in the movie had to do when his suitcase didn’t arrive – wear the family flannel pajamas. I looked at Colette’s dad and pictured myself in his flannel pajamas. Nothing against flannel, but I’m not a flannel type of guy. I like fabric that’s more, well, delicate. I don’t want to wear clothes that you can sand wood with. Finally my suitcase arrived and along with it, normal fabrics like Eyptian cotton. That night I thanked God for the Egyptians.

Third: breaking things. I don’t have room to describe these events but will provide a survey of the damages: door knob – broken; vacuum cleaner – broken; camera – broken. As you can see, I was busy in New Hampshire. I didn’t just sit around.

Fourth: engagement awkwardness. Not only was I meeting Colette’s parents for the first time, I was also planning to ask for her hand in marriage. After these incidents, it’s a miracle I still did. On the last night, I gathered up enough courage to climb the stairs to her dad’s office. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking. I had only met this man a couple days before and now I was asking for two things: 1) to take his daughter away to my kingdom and 2) to join the extended family. And what did he have to go on? What evidence had he to make this decision? Well, only my performance over the last couple days of course. Brilliant.

After an awkward conversation (“So, how long have you had this singing fish on the wall? By the way, mind if I marry your daughter?”), he gave me his blessing: I could have her. I was surprised by his response. I mean, he didn’t put up much of a fight, even after my blithering moments. My first thought was that maybe he didn’t like his daughter that much. But then I realized that couldn’t be it, so I thought harder. Then I realized (not so easily) that maybe he actually liked me, liked the idea of us together, and that’s why he said yes. Turns out this was it, even though it was hard to believe.

It was hard to believe because I watched Meet the Parents before actually meeting the parents, and as I said, it messed me up. So be careful what you let in. Watch what’s influencing you. Guard your thoughts. Fix on what’s true. Keep a clear mind.

You never know when you’ll need it to speak Massachutan-French Canadian.

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