19th hole

Hi everybody. My blog went out of control and was hijacked by hackers. Golf hackers, that is. But that's all right. I used to love golf.

Except when I played with the guy who took a Mulligan on every hole and tee-ed up his shots on the fairway and foot wedged his ball out of the trap. Gimme's at 3 feet… Eraser in hand, as someone wrote.

Then he had the nerve to tell you he beat you by two strokes and I had to buy the brews. I mean the Dr. Pepper.
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Today was my birthday, thank you very much. As a present, drop by on Sunday and read the only "story" I've written in years. I hope you'll like it, even if it's not about golf.

You are loved,
Brady

If God wills

We are excited about this summer. Every three years we make a furlough trip to see Dad and Mom, Sisters and Brothers (+in-laws) and renew contact with supporters and partners in Fresno.

Son 1 will stay in Europe working the two-week kids’ camp and then following a short training in one of the French churches. The rest of us plan on bugging Beth and Randy for a week before visiting relatives in Arkansas and Kentucky.

The kids are thrilled to go to Mexico with Randy and Co. to build houses. Steph and I will get some down time and visit California, staying with anyone who will feed us. The five weeks we spend in Fresno are energizing.

The church in Lausanne plans all activities and worship times during our absence. The members miss us, but for eight weeks they get to do what THEY want. I appreciate their hard work and faithfulness.

We are blessed. My mission-teacher-friends tell me that 150 years ago those who went to Africa to teach the Gospel packed their meager belongings in coffins. They knew they would never be coming back and were ready to give it all, even their lives, to preach Christ.

St. Paul's

This morning I’ll head into the rain for a five-minute walk to the local parish Reformed Church, called St. Paul’s. I won’t give you the whole name of the church. Way too long. Every Tuesday morning it hosts 30 minutes of prayer,

For the last 15 years I’ve been going to Bible studies and prayers in that church. There will be 5 or 6 ladies there, most well into their 80’s. My pastor friend Roger leads the meeting. There’s a $400,000.00 dollar organ and a paid organist.

Everything starts with the organ. Then a printed introduction and the singing of a hymn (with piano). A reading from the Psalms. Variation on a hymn (piano only). New Testament reading. Classical piece (piano). Short commentary on the second passage. Silence. Hymn (with piano). Responsive prayer reading. Spontaneous prayer (sometimes). Lord’s prayer. Blessing. Organ.

Recently, Roger told me there was a rebellion among the organists. In one of the monthly, 30 minute worship times, the group had decided on less organ, more prayer. The organists rebelled. Less playing time means less cash. Less cash means unhappy organists. His conclusion on a down day, “The church is run by money.”

Guess we need more prayer.

Fishers of men

Did Peter and Andrew, James and John respond to the call, “I will make you fishers of men,” because of their love for people and their desire to bring them into covenant with God, or did they see the call as an inside track to Kingdom, close proximity to the Prince, their new nets pulling in political power and influence? (All for the common good, mind you.)

The more one reads Gospel descriptions of the disciples (and by the disciples), the less their early response to the call becomes an example to follow (though they should never be ridiculed). But Jesus, who knew what was in people, thus refused to reveal himself directly except through parable and sign and walk, slowly brought many of his followers to a life where they would carry the cross gladly and submit to the baptism obediently.

I think I’ll focus my eyes on the call of Jesus and on his fishing life-style rather than on the courageous, but misguided, response of the disciples. For everywhere in his sacrifice, his serving, his searching, his giving and his Message, the master fisherman is at work. And peoples’ lives are still changing.

Doctor visit

Odd day today. A fever and chills kept me in bed yesterday.
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When I see my doctor we have to get reacquainted each time, since I only go in for a yearly tuberculosis test (so I can do the kids’ camp in France). That’s ok by me. But there are major differences between medical visits in Lausanne and those I used to have in Fresno:

• Here, I walk to the doctor’s office.
• All of the magazines in the waiting room are in French, but they have exactly the same covers as those in American waiting rooms.
• The doctor only makes me wait a maximum of 15 minutes.
• I don’t have to sit in the examination room alone and naked for another 15 minutes. Normally, we are in the doctor’s office. And I’m not naked.
• It is actually cheaper to see a doctor here than there. But I have to pay everything (by post) before getting reimbursed by insurance.

The biggest difference between Fresno and Lausanne is that 21 years ago, all the Fresno doctors were old men. Here, they all look like teenagers, and they seem to be surprised that I’m in good health.

Have a heathly/ful weekend.

Phine Whine

For spiritual cleaning, check out this post. It's written by Bill Gnade at Contratimes. Great stuff.
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When I first discovered the blog world through Randy, passion, creativity and inspiration oozed from so many posts that I got hooked. I became a faithful reader of carefully chosen blogs. Several Fresno people encouraged me to blog. (Well, not several, but there was Sandra, and maybe my Mom.) I promised Wife I would write, but not whine. For blogs are not only a source of encouragement, but also a spot where folks park their whaaaambulances.

Is whining a basic human need? (I’m asking this because if you only knew how much I REALLY WANT TO WHINE TODAY, but I made a promise…) Or do a few of us just see the world in the same light as the Ecclesiast, whose every line is highlighted in the depressed disciple’s Bible?

Some of us really do feel bad about not counting our blessings one-by-one. Some of us are really lousy pray-ers and just pick back up what we just poured out. But we still desire (desperately) to see grace fill our hearts and actions. We want to follow the beaten missionaries’ example and sing at midnight.

I will try to sing bass today to Paul and Silas’ melody of love intoned in a Philippian prison. Well, that’s what I want to do… And maybe drown out the siren from my whaaaambulance.

Response

RE: The Post “March 15”

FYI Cecil, Dr Zivalgo had nothing to do with us ending up in Europe. However, our second date was to see the Jazz Singer, and it's one of the reasons I'm in Europe today. They've NEVER heard of Neal Diamond here. (Sorry, Steve.)

Brent: I figure with interest, I owe you about $18,000. That may have something to do with us staying in Europe. But I'd rather owe it to you for all of my life than not pay you.

Randy: I will take you up on that meal. I’m sure it’s tripled in price since 1981. BTW, sorry about the keyboard.

It's funny, I thought of Greg during the LJ Silvers post. He's such a haute-cuisine / restaurant guy. I love the posts where a restaurant is mentioned. I’ll take you out when we get to LA.

Monsieur G.: There are no LJ Silvers in Switzerland, that I know of. There used to be a Wendys, a KFC, and a Subways in Lausanne. They are now history, as is the BKing in Geneva. However, we do have a Starbucks here, though I’ve never been.

And thanks Wife. The meal was fun.

Seize ans

This little girl broke through into the light exactly 16 years ago today. Born early on a Sunday morning, she has brought lots of joy into our home.

Every dad should have a girl like Daughter. When she was younger, I’d walk into the apartment with a “I’m home!” and Sons would not even look up from their books. But Daughter would come running yelling “Daddy”. Man, it felt good to get home.

Happy Birthday, Daughter. You have truly blessed our lives. And may the next 16 years be even sweeter than the last 16.

March 15

25 years ago yesterday a timid preacher wannabe couldn’t get up the courage to ask out a certain young lady. Easter break had just started, and like good Christians, my roommate, his fiancée and I attended Sunday night service at Highland in Abilene. About a thousand people were present. When my roommate to whom I will forever be grateful saw my not-yet-known-to-be future wife (NYKTBFW), he said we wouldn’t leave that sanctuary until I’d asked her out. After worship, with only 7 of us still lingering in that sacred hall, my roommate finally gave in. He asked her out for me.

He also loaned me 5 bucks. We all went to Long John Silver’s and ate a healthful meal of deep fried fish and deep fried shrimp and deep fried hushpuppies and cabbage disguised as coleslaw. Roommate and fiancée suggested I accompany NYKTBFW to her place in her car. They’d pick me up there. While waiting on her front porch ten minutes later, they drove buy honking. Deserted, I got invited in. We silently watched the end of Dr. Zivalgo with her roommate. I then walked home.

Every March 15 Wife fries fish, home-makes hushpuppies, grates cabbage for coleslaw, and we remember our first March 15 together.

Senegal

It’s not every day that you discover a new continent. Son 1 is flying from Marseilles to Paris to Dakar to spend a week with Christians in Senegal, and it’s his first trip to Africa.

The Christians on Missions program has a goal of giving their year-long interns exposure to foreign cultures (as if living in a diverse, troubled neighborhood in Marseille was not culture shock enough). This year, they are going to Senegal as learners and will be spending time listening to Africans talk about walking the Christian walk in a country that is 94% Muslim. They will no doubt explore mosques, sit also at the feet of teachers of the Koran (Imams), and walk the streets of Dakar, soaking up the culture. One of the questions their teachers will be asking them is how they would go about bringing Jesus to this kind of culture.

They’ll be back in Europe in a week’s time. I’m excited for Son 1. Can’t wait to find out how it went…

Blinded by the structures

The entire system was rotten, so rotten it stank unto heaven. In divine mission, Jesus had declared the temple a den of thieves and not a sanctuary of prayer. He had scattered tables and men, coins and chairs. With the same whip he had herded sellers and sheep.

Jesus had also proclaimed the temple’s ruin when he spoke of the destruction of the temple of his own body. One temple would be resurrected in three days. The other would fall, never to be rebuilt.

To this corrupt, sick, distracted and hypocritical structure a poor woman gave two copper coins as an offering to God. And Jesus praised her because: she gave more than any other. She gave all that she had.

The message did not take root. The disciples were soon caught admiring the wonderful stones and the size of the gates. They were still unable to see.

The lessons are numerous:
Our inability to see through God’s eyes…
The goodness in a person…
The force of generosity…
The example of trust…

Read the Gospels carefully this week. See Jesus at work and learn from him, keeping your eyes on people and off the structures. And there’s no telling what you’ll see.

What will happen today?

You never know how a day will turn out once it starts, even with a list and an up-to-date agenda. I imagine that’s why study and prayer should start the day and leave their imprint on all that follows.

An old friend and parttime member called yesterday afternoon with news that his 80 year old mother was in emergency at the local university hospital. He needed to record her final words. Could I find a recorder and come?

25 minutes later, behind the curtain of stall labeled “I”, we prayed. Then two other family members arrived. Doctors discussed options. Surgeons were called. Nurses explained intensive care procedures. Decisions were made. Prayers were prayed.

Our old friend joined us for dinner. Also present were little Luc (his mom too had just been operated on) and C. with her nephew from Chile. We prayed, asking for healing and blessing. During the meal, a call informed us that things had gone well. Our old friend went home. C. went to Luc’s mom’s to help. Luc crashed here.

We later crawled into bed after and prayed about all that had happened, aware we should pray more, content to have been in God’s presence throughout the day, wondering about tomorrow.

Tram 12

I sometimes use public transport to Geneva, biking down to the Lausanne station, a train to Geneva, a $4.00 bus pass for the days activities, riding trams from one Bible study (catechism) to another before catching the 22:36 train home.

Last night, tram 12 was only 1/3 full. The young lady in front of me was droning on in nasal tones to the young lady next to me.

Yes, I want to immigrate.(Where?) Canada will often take those of us who are handicapped. You know, besides other things, I can’t see in one eye, but I get on just fine. Sometimes I even forget that I’m handicapped. Do you have any pets? (No.) I have a dog. He’s ten years old. Do you have any children? (No. I’m not married.) Oh really? Let me tell you: You are one of the kindest people I have met. I think you are an exceptional person.

I stepped off the tram thinking that my fellow passengers had offered each other wonderful, yet simple, gifts: listening to and answering questions from a stranger who evidently doesn’t get much attention (and on a tram, no less!); sincere appreciation expressed to a listener: You are an exceptional person.

Geneva Retreat

This past weekend, the Geneva church had their annual Winter retreat here in Lausanne. It’s great for us in that we get to participate in all the events except for sleeping in someone else’s bed. You know how it is when you share a room, or a hall, or a wing, with anywhere between 4 and 80 people. Different bedtime rhythms, different WC paces, different snoring tonalities. You get the picture.

The theme this year was from John 6.60, words of some of the disciples: “This teaching is difficult. Who can accept it?” We had good lessons from three teachers on some of the obstacles to stronger faith and ways to grow in trust in Jesus.

I had very little to do but lead a small group and make sure I got enough snacks during the breaks (very successful).

Sunday morning we woke up to 15 centimeters of new snow and, fortunately, nearly the entire Lausanne church made it for the joint worship and lunch. Lots of good things are happening in the Geneva church. A new meeting place for next month, perhaps a new, full-time European minister in the near future. I know you’ll pray for this work.

Lausanne City Elections

A major task stands before Wife and me: voting in our first municipal election. A law was recently passed giving us longstanding foreigners of good reputation the possibility of influencing the local political scene.

We have a parliamentary system. You vote for LISTS, be it Communist, Green, Socialist, Central, Radical, Liberal or Right/Extreme right. Special poster boards cover the town. Admire the Cathedral and you get a free glimpse of a party candidate. Look at the mountains (the snow is incredible on those dark blue ranges), there’s someone’s smiling face in the foreground staring right at you.

I like looking at posters and deciding if the face matches the party. The farther left you go, no lie, the more pimples you’ve got and the longer it’s been since your last haircut. The farther right you go (here, Liberal means Right, not Left) the more Swiss-German you’ve got to look.

I’m thankful that the present government gave us the vote, but it’s time we kick the bums out and change things for the better. This year, I’ll vote centrist. We’ve got a Green government and a communist or two, and I’m pretty sure they’re responsible for the ugly posters in town.