One young lady perked up and exclaimed, “The Dollar Tree?”
It was a priceless moment.
From time to time I teach a middle school Sunday School class. This year, the curriculum takes them through the Old Testament books of 1 and 2 Kings. This morning, we covered 1 Kings 12-14, when Israel divided into the northern and southern kingdoms under Jeroboam and Rehoboam, respectively. When Jeroboam sets up two golden calfs in the north, it’s a repeat of the golden calf episode in Exodus. God’s people tend to make the same mistakes over and over.
It’s a challenge to engage any class of young or old with this particular narrative. Metal and wooden idols seem kind of silly to modern ears. So we have to talk about those thing we fear, love, and trust more than God, which are our idols.
While we have much to learn about idolatry, we’re familiar with Dollar Tree. True, most of the stuff there is junk. But almost everything costs $1.25. Inflation, you know. Between them, Family Dollar and Dollar General, I never feel like I’m more than five minutes away from a discount store. This reality says much about what we value. It’s stuff. It’s the creation rather than the Creator. Once I take a step in that direction, my life drifts further and further away from God, something Paul writes about in Romans 1.
Anyway, because of our discussion this morning, when someone mentions idolatry, I’ll always think of Dollar Tree!
On my walks and drives around the neighborhood, it’s not unusual to see mattresses on the curb for trash pickup. However, I share this one as one of the dirtiest and nastiest I think I’ve ever seen.
It could have been in someone’s garage for a while. Maybe they just never got around to getting rid of it. Mildew grows fast in the humid Florida air. If the house was unoccupied and the power was off, imagine the black mold growing throughout the rest of the house.
I guess it could have been someone’s mattress, but I cringe at the thought. I know mattresses get dirty and accumulate a lot of dust mites and dead skin cells. But this much?
Some friends of mine had a bedbug problem a few months ago. Needless to say, they had to get rid of their mattress and boxspring. They left theirs on the curb, but someone actually took it before the trash guys showed up!
They say you should replace your mattresses every seven to ten years. How old do you think this one was?
I’ve had this picture on my phone for a while now. I walk by this house a couple of times a week, and am always amazed by this garage door.
First of all, I wonder, “What in the world happened here?” I’m guessing the spring is broken, but why is the door hanging crooked like that? Did a rail break loose inside the garage? Did the wheels come off one of the tracks? I’m not sure how to get a garage door to do this.
Next, I wonder, “How come you haven’t tried to fix it?” At least find a way to lower it so it’s not open like this all the time. An open door is an invitation for critters to come in and squat in the garage.
This same house also had elaborate Halloween decorations on display.
So I couldn’t help but wonder, “If you’ll take the time and effort to decorate your yard, don’t you have a few minutes to try and fix the garage door?”
I’m tempted to assume this is a rental property. If so, I guess the landlord hasn’t been by in a while. I’m thinking that code enforcement hasn’t been by in a while, either.
How would you react if you pressed the button to close the garage door and this happened?
On our last return trip from Dallas, we stopped for the night in Pensacola, FL after a full day of driving. I had a reservation at the Fairfield Inn and Suites just off I-10.
The sun was setting as I pulled into the parking lot and walked through the front door to check in. I was immediately greeted by a bubbly, cheerful woman at the front desk. I said, “I’ve got a reservation for the night” as I handed her my drivers license and credit card.
After she tapped on her computer keyboard a few times, she said, “Well, we don’t have you in our system, but I’ll bet your room is at the other Fairfield Inn and Suites just off I-10 in Pensacola.” She called to confirm our reservation, and I drove a few miles back to the correct location. There are two? Well, that’s confusing.
The reception at this hotel was much different. The building looked brand new and I could tell that crews were still working on the landscaping. I walked into a very nice lobby, only to find no one at the front desk. I waited for a few moments, and then started to look around. Past a display of snacks, through two doorways, I saw a woman on the phone, typing as she talked to someone. I waited a few minutes, hoping she would notice me, but she never looked up. I walked a little closer and said, “Hi!” a few times. Nothing.
Finally, the woman happened to look up, and was startled to see me. After she shuffled some papers around, she came out to check me in. She said, “Sorry, I’m deaf.” I felt bad as she explained, “I can only hear in one ear.” She was kind and checked me in, explaining that she was filling out an incident report, she was ADHD, and breakfast was from 6:30 to 9:30 in the morning.
It must be tough working the front desk all by yourself in the evening. And I’ll bet the person on duty is expected to handle a variety of tasks for not a whole lot of pay.
We had a good night and a good breakfast before we hit the road for home.
I got to go see some live music the other night for the first time in a long time. When my wife heard that Mercy Me was going to be at the Saint Augustine Amphitheater, she immediately got tickets for us and a couple extra for my daughter and her husband.
I’ve been to the amphitheater for a couple of high school graduations, but never for a concert. It’s a really nice outdoor yet covered venue. The website says it seats just under five thousand. We had seats in row X, so I guess that would be twenty-four rows back, not including the many seats on the floor in front of the stage. The distance is not a problem since everything is also projected on an enormous screen in back of the bands.
We arrived when the doors opened after pizza just up the road at Mellow Mushroom. Official parking was sold out in advance, but a shuttle picked us up from the free parking offered at Anastasia State Park. The long lines made me wonder just how early people arrived to get in.
Security was tight. They checked bags and waved wands over us as we held the contents of our pockets in our hands. A very nice woman scanned the tickets on our phone, and a friendly usher took us to our seats.
As I watched others arrive, I learned why so many came so early. I’ll bet half of the crowd bought supper at the concession stands when they arrived. I watched people carry in all kinds of sandwiches, nachos, pizza, popcorn, and beverages. One could easily spend as much on food as for tickets. (A plastic cup of water was $4.) We were supposed to return them for reuse, but just between you and me, we brought them home with us.
Once we sat down, I watched as merchandise advertisements flashed across the enormous screen. The two warm up acts were Andrew Ripp and Crowder, whose songs we hear on Christian radio every day. All three of the performing groups had t-shirts, hoodies, CDs (yes, they still sell CDs), drink bottles, books, and other items for sale. Again, I could easily spend as much for merch as I did for a ticket. A seven-day cruise with the featured group was advertised for January. The bands also supported Children International, so concert attenders could sign up to sponsor a child. The business end of the contemporary Christian music industry is alive and well.
Four sound and light technicians ran an amazing control board. Lighting effects were coordinated with each musical number. Lyrics were displayed in perfect sync with the singers. Stage crew supplied the right guitars for various songs. It takes many people to put on a concert like this!
I enjoyed all the performers. Everyone on stage was so talented, bringing songs they had no doubt done many, many times before. I think they looked like they all enjoyed their work, even though they had no doubt done these songs many, many times before.
I’m still searching my memory to remember the last concert I went to. As I do, I remember some from the past.
Chicago (twice, once with the Beach Boys)
Maynard Ferguson (many times going back to high school)
Steven Curtis Chapman with the Afters and Geoff Moore
Phil Wickham (before he made it big)
Relient K several times with my daughters
Russ Taff
Amy Grant
Hillsong
I’m sure there are more. The longer I think, the more I remember. Lol.
Having performed in front of people, I appreciate the talent and hard work of these artists. Having written this, I’m determined to pay more attention to and go see musical talent that performs near me.
I was reading Psalm 115 this morning and I was struck by how interactive the Christian faith is. It is not just words on a page. It’s not just stories in a book. It’s not just images of biblical truths on t-shirts or coffee mugs. We experience the truths of the faith because God interacts with us in sensory ways.
The psalmist backs into this by describing idols made by human hands. They don’t say anything, see anything, hear anything, smell anything, feel anything or go anywhere. They are good for nothing. On the other hand, God does all of these things and more. That’s why we can trust him to help, protect, remember and bless us.
It’s not subtle. God is dramatically different than anything else you can fear, love, or trust.
He speaks. He speaks words that create life, hope, and peace. We know that all he has to do is say the word, and something happens.
He sees. He sees what’s going on in the world and in our lives. He looks into our hearts and see what we truly desire. He can also see what we ultimately trust.
He hears. He hears our complaints, laments, questions and cries for help. He hears our praise and thanksgiving. He hears every request, too.
He smells. Prayers and sacrifices wrapped in smoke are a pleasant aroma to him. The stink of death doesn’t deter him from giving us new life.
He feels. He feels the touch of the desperate who need healing, the worship of the thankful, and the pain of the nails that held him to the cross.
He walks. He walks through crowds, on top of the water, and up the hill to a cross.
Created in his image, we see, hear, taste, smell, and feel, too. If we’re paying attention, each of our senses connects us to the Creator. They give us sensory access to his divine power and nature.
So what did I see, hear, touch, smell, and taste today? And how did it remind me of my God, who is so much more than any idol I might craft in my mind or heart?
Since my appointment was at four in the afternoon, I didn’t expect to find any drinkable coffee in the waiting area at the dealer where I waited for an oil change and tire rotation. By that time, whatever was in the big pump carafe would be a lukewarm eight-hour old pot of weak brown liquid undeserving of the name “coffee.”
Boy, was I wrong. And I was pleasantly surprised to see a brand new commercial grade Keurig brewer on the counter next to paper cups, creamer, sugar, and a carousel of regular and decaf K-cups. Impressive. It was plumbed so you never had to fill the reservoir with water. A really cool color touch screen let you pick the size and strength of your coffee. I looked around to check and make sure I was in the right place. Yep. Same old uncomfortable chairs. Some of the same magazines and books. Same toys in the corner for kids.
I know I shouldn’t choose my auto mechanic based on the coffee provided in the waiting room. In the same light, you shouldn’t pick a church, a doctor, a hotel, or an airline for the coffee they serve. But when the coffee is good, it makes a difference when you’ll be waiting for a while.
Yesterday, I noticed the dark, the quiet, and the solitude of my predawn morning walk. Today, I noticed the lights.
The night sky is filled with lights: the moon, stars, a few planets, and the red and green of an airplane far overhead.
Street lights extend from utility poles light up some of the intersections as well as random stretches of road in the neighborhood.
I’m surprised at how many homes keep the lights on each side of the garage or atop a front walk lamppost lit all night long. They are bright, illuminating the driveway and the cars parked there. Security lights shine into every corners of backyards.
You’ll also see a lit up doorbell on most homes. A tiny little light just to the side of the front door is on all the time, but you’ll only notice it at night.
Those who support law enforcement display a blue light on the front of the house.
Solar-powered landscape lights are still on, lining driveways and front walkways. Sometimes they shine lights up onto trees and the side of houses, creating interesting shadows.
Sometimes I’ll see a single red light on the side of a house, near an electric meter. It must alert someone that something is working correctly. Or not. Who knows?
Just above the trees I can see the tall lights above the soccer and baseball fields. The action begins early on tournament weekends.
I carry my flashlight when it’s dark. Some walkers and bikers wear flashing red or green lights so passing cars don’t miss them.
I can see tiny blue or green alarm lights flashing inside parked cars. they are armed and ready.
Today, the headlights of a car delivering newspapers (two people on my block still get a paper delivered) roared past me before pulling sharply into my neighbor’s driveway just long enough to fling the paper somewhere in the yard. Just as quickly, his taillights disappeared around the corner.
Lights are on inside homes, too. Others are up at this very early hour, too. The flicker of TV screens peeks through the front window curtains.
Some neighbors leave their Halloween inflatables inflated and lit all night long. Strings of orange lights frame doors and lay across shrubs.
And appropriately, lights shine on the American flag, either from the base or the top of flagpoles.
It’s not very dark at night around here. And I’m sure we’re just a few days away from the first Christmas lights.
Technically, it was still dark. The sun wouldn’t officially rise for another hour. But this was the full moon’s moment as it illuminated my early morning walk with my dog.
About half way around the block, with another half mile to go, I realized what a blessing and privilege it is to be able to walk in the dark with no one else around and feel completely safe. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful.
I’ve been in cities in Haiti where every home was surrounded by a concrete walls topped with razor wire or pieces of broken glass. I would not be out walking during the day, much less at night. I’ve lived in the inner city, where the night echoed with the noise of arguments, speeding cars, and gunshots. The bitter thirty degrees below zero cold of a midwest winter cut any time I spent outside to less than a minute. One hundred mile an hour hurricane winds made me tell the dog, “You’re gonna have to hold it.”
But this morning’s air is motionless. Shorts and a t-shirt were perfect. No cars are out on the road. No one else is walking their dog. Owls hoot to each other in the distance before other birds begin their morning song. A motion light turns on as we walked by. The only sounds are my footsteps, the clicking of tiny toenails on the street, and the faint sound of a single engine airplane somewhere overhead.
To no one in particular I said out loud, “I’m going to write about this moment.”
Waite for it... 