Before we began
I wondered
could you fill
the voids in my life
change the traits I could not?
I yielded
You did it all
which leads me to believe...
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Knocking in Heaven's Door
Saturday, a chance to catch up on yard and house maintenance, at least until my body screams, “Enough.” Trying to remember the good times when I could work all day, I put some classic rock on Pandora and cranked up the outside speakers. Bob Dylan’s “Knock, Knock, Knocking on Heaven’s Door” soon brought back a Facebook discussion over the previous several days, ranging from do all people go to heaven, why or why not, can people change, forgiveness, and justice. Some deep issues done well with divergent views.
Since Unconventional exists to discuss what it means to follow Jesus, we can all benefit from making sure we’re on track, so that when we stand, knocking on heaven’s door, that door will open. So, some basics that touch the results of following Jesus.
First, all people go to heaven who want to go there. Honest. But...
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Decaying Past and Present Life
I like old stuff. Always have. Dad’s aunt and uncle would escape the Utah winter and snow to stay in Santa Monica for several months each year, and I’d quietly listen to tales of much earlier frontier days. On the bike trips, old farms, barns, and houses entrance me. Two years ago we spent a few days in Deadwood, SD, where Wild Bill Hickok was killed, where Calamity Jane capered, and I was nearly in heaven. Last spring Sheila and I visited an old central California town. She headed for an antique store; I crossed the street to a hotel/bar about 120 years old.
So, when Roland Peachie, a friend from high school days, posted the pic above, the decaying barn first drew my attention.
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Feline Fellowship
Pet lovers will get this. Non pet lovers may not. But hang in there, because this really isn’t about cats, but people. Particularly, principles for deeper connections between fellow followers of Jesus, necessary ones, that I learned from Sandy, our cat. I thought he was just a lost kitten when he strolled into our lives along the top of a bank, and nobly ignored us as we called him. He had business to attend to. I did as well, and walked away.
Our grandkids, Josh and Hannah, soon brought him to me.
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Rock Star
Determined to become the next big rock star, I bought a guitar. A Sears Silvertone, black with an orange starburst around the sound hole. My good friend Ken and I began practicing, and the first obstacle emerged. I couldn’t tune the blasted instrument! Oh, I knew the strings and frets to press to match the tones of adjacent strings, but my ear couldn’t hear the differences. Ken soon tired of tuning mine. OK, ditch the gitfiddle and just sing. Next obstacle. Being tone deaf doesn’t lend itself to singing virtuosity.
So my dream died, but a new force emerged. Jealousy
Read MoreRoadmaps
Several years ago a buddy and I hopped in my Ford van and headed to Yosemite for some winter camping. We hit all the backroads we could find, but faithfully followed the map. Until we got lost. The map just didn’t match the territory; it couldn’t get us to our goal. Running on fumes from the detours, the van crept into the aptly named Dinkey Creek, the last gas station for a dozen miles, just as the operator was closing it down for the winter. An hour later and we’d been hiking in snow.
This week, a Facebook friend sparked a challenging discussion when she posted an article “Sick of Christianity?” The author seemed to want to rewrite the Bible and condemn judgmentalism in the church in order to justify
Read MoreWhen Angels Ride Along
It all seemed so simple. Needing a break from studying during our final finals week in college, a bunch of us took a break from our studies to view “Easy Rider,” the iconic cult biker film featuring sex, drugs, and bikes. It entranced me. Not the sex and drugs, although I certainly couldn’t claim faith then. But Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper captured the freedom of traveling on two wheels.
The idea burst upon me like inspiration—I’d work for a month or so, save enough to buy a bike, and head to Canada for a month before grad school started. Three weeks after buying the bike, I took off. Way too early, I knew almost nothing about riding or bikes. Not enough to know the danger.
Read MoreComplexity's Paradox
43 years ago this month, I was a grad assistant at Pepperdine, living off campus with a rarely present friend, riding a motorcycle and a cool car, with three girl friends (none of whom knew about the others, fortunately). On the outside, life appeared perfect. But internally, I was a mess. After four years of spiritual searching, I surrendered control of my life to the only being worthy of it. I certainly didn’t meet that standard.
The ride since has been wild. I’ve pastored churches and sinned and grown, written books and sinned and grown, taught at Christian universities and high schools and sinned and grown.
And the further I travel through life, the more the complexity of life amazes me.
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