A quote

"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step." - Martin Luther King Jr.

Defensive

Confession

YOU Feed Them

You feed them. YOU feed them. Those were the words that Jesus spoke to his disciples on that now famous day when the thousands were fed. What was he telling the disciples, exactly?

Well ... in my mind this is how I see things. The crowds were hungry - literally and spiritually. They were eating, no devouring, the words of the master teacher Jesus Christ and as they sat, all day long under the burning sun, they became physically hungry as well. They had needs only half of which were being satisfied. I think that the disciples, when they came to the Lord and asked him to send the crowds away, missed that all important detail - that the crowds were being fed spiritually - and the disciples were asking Jesus to deprive the crowds of further spiritual nourishment. More than that, they were saying "Hey, Jesus look ... you're in charge of this 'shindig', you need to find a way to feed them."

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

You see, Jesus looks his disciples square in the eye and says "YOU feed them", a powerful command that should have rippled through the millennium and centuries. Of course, I know how hard it is to fulfill such a command. I am just like those disciples - you tell me to 'feed them' and I'm totally lost. How the heck am I supposed to do that? Now give me a gazillion tons of grub and a line of hungry homeless and I can get into the trenches and spoon out dish after dish of food with the best of them; but, to come up with the way to feed them - well just forget that. I can feel with and for the disciples. I am them. I think that many churches are. I believe that many churches see the need but have absolutely no idea how to go about implementing a way to feed the people; I'll even go so far as to say both physically and spiritually. I think there needs to be a re-visioning of the church - church needs to be turned inside out as well as the people.

So, how do we, we the church of True North, go about feeding the people? Well, I have no answers to that question - I hope John has some ideas on Sunday but quite honestly I'm not sure exactly in what direction he'll be heading with this text ... that's the bad thing about writing before the message is delivered. I guess, if you join me on Sunday (and yes! I will be there this Sunday) we'll all see how far off the mark I truly am.

Control Freak

I really hated missing True North on Sunday evening - I am SUCH a control freak that I feared disaster or catastrophe would happen were I not there to make sure everything got done “right” and that everything was set up“correctly”. Much to my chagrin - True North went off without a hitch; the High Freques sounded better than they had since opening and the images worked perfectly with John’s message, everything got set up and taken down exactly as it should have, fresh warm just baked cookies at the ready. Sigh… … it’s very crushing you know … the realization that I truly am unimportant to this team …

Strolling

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Morning Drift

Sitting at Pearson Toyota, finished with the State of the Church report and I'm watching a young mother with infant and the My Baby Can Read program when all of a sudden, over the loud speaker, I think I hear - "Mr. Castle for teen-age sex."

My mind snaps back into the present reality and I realize I must have misheard the loud speaker - sure enough, on repeat, it was "Mr. Castle call on line six." How I got teen-age sex out of that I'll never know!!!

Moth Invasion!

it's ok to be ...

The Son

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art. When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock a the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said, 'Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you,and your love for art.' The young man held out this package. 'I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.'

The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. 'Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift.'

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected. The man died a few months later.

There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

On the platform sat the painting The Son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. 'We will start the bidding with this picture of The Son. Who will bid for this picture?'

There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, 'We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.'

But the auctioneer persisted. 'Will somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?'

Another voice angrily. 'We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh's, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!'

But still the auctioneer continued. 'The Son! The Son! Who'll take The Son?'

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the long time gardener of the man and his son. 'I'll give $10 for the painting.' Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

''We have $10, who will bid $20?'

'Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters.'

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

The auctioneer pounded the gavel. 'Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!' A man sitting on the second row shouted, 'Now let's get on with the collection!'

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. 'I'm sorry, the auction is over.'

'What about the paintings?'

'I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only The Son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took The Son gets everything!'

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: 'The Son, The Son, who'll take The Son?' Because, you see, whoever takes The Son gets everything.

(You're My) Best Friend

Would you take better care of yourself? Would you be kinder to yourself? Would you be more forgiving of your human imperfections? If you realized your best friend was yourself. Who is always with you everywhere? Who is on your side when others are unfair? And tell me, who will never let you down in any situation? Who will always see you get your share? And that's why I am a best friend to myself. And I take me up whenever I feel low. I make myself as happy as a best friend would. I'm as nice to me as anyone I know. Lyrics by Helen Reddy; Music by Ray Burton

I wish that I could say that I believed in these lyrics. I wish that I could say that I live these lyrics, that I AM these lyrics, or even that I am TRYING to live these lyrics. Unfortunately, I am my own worst enemy and I must rob myself of the company of me so much of the time. I don't even allow myself a glimpse in the mirror - how ghastly I believe I am.

Someday, possibly, I may be able to befriend myself - but for now I know it's not yet time...

Are You Ready for What's Next!?

Are You Ready for What's Next!?

Ok, so I Matter ... now what? Ok, so I'm found ... now what? Ok, so I've received the living water ... now what? Ok, so I am a new creation ... so, Now What!? Well, now we'll be exploring what it means to be loved by God, to be found valuable and worthy in God's sight; you ARE a new creation through Christ so now we'll look at what that means to BE a new creation in and through Christ. First we'll look at how we're Changed (Inside & Out) in Luke 5 and then move into and through Christ's mission and ours as we learn that we must Feed Them in Luke 9 and to care for The Least of These in Matthew 25. From there we'll Let Our Light Shine out from under a bushel as we look at Matthew 5. Finally we'll end this six-week sermon series by examining our call to be Sent in Luke and our Commission in Matthew 28. Are you ready? Really ready? Are YOU Ready for What's Next!?

High Freques

Godparents for Tanzania. Bringing hope through education to the youth of Tanzania.

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FishForPeople

   

                      

"The belief in a thing makes it happen."

- Frank Lloyd Wright

Measure of Success

"You have achieved success if you

have lived well, laughed often

and loved much."

- Author Unknown

I Never Got To Say Goodbye

Dying Inside

by Hatter Nataleigh Fox Something so hardgoes straight to the soul;it seems impossible to get overand my heart is left with a big hole. I am trying to be happy, wearing a smile;but I am dying inside.The world seems to be fading,and I just want to run and hide. Everywhere I go I see your face,and realize how much I miss you;and on the day you dieda piece of me died too. SEAFORD - Kathleen M. Giles, 66, died on Jan. 11, 2009, in Scottsdale, Ariz., where she had gone for medical treatment. She was born Kathleen Murphy in Dodge City, Kan., and grew up in Sublette, Kan. She graduated with honors from Kansas State University with a double major in English and Math. Kathleen married Gary Giles and they moved to Virginia, where she taught at Hampton High School. Later they both attended the University of Virginia, where she earned a Master's degree in English Literature. After her children were grown, Kathleen continued her love of learning by obtaining a Master's degree, an Education Specialist degree, and a Doctorate degree in Counseling from the College of William and Mary. Her counseling and service work was very important to Kathleen. She worked in various capacities, including Executive Director, at CONTACT Peninsula and its Rape Crisis Center. Kathleen also performed individual and family counseling, first at a group practice and later in her own private practice. She served in many professional capacities, among them a member and chair of the Board of Directors of Virginians Aligned Against Sexual Assault (VAASA) and chair of the Peninsula Victim Advocacy Team. She also served on the Child Sexual Abuse Conference Planning Committee. Her public policy efforts included testimony and advocacy at the state and local levels that were focused on measures for abuse prevention. Kathleen expanded her counseling to include organizations. She worked with a medical hospital and numerous church organizations and clergy throughout the Commonwealth of Virginia. Most recently, on the national level, she provided leadership training and organizational development to the National Legal Aid & Defender Association (NLADA). Kathleen impacted countless people with her healing spirit and gift of reconciliation. Kathleen is survived by her husband of 44 years, Gary Giles; her children, Alan Pedersen-Giles and wife Jennifer, Anne Giles and husband, Scott, and Geoffrey Giles and wife, ReneE. She is survived by her father, L. Duane Murphy; and her sister, MaryAnne Bruno and husband, Donald. Kathleen is also survived by her grandsons, Jens and Westen Pedersen-Giles; and her granddaughter, Aria Kathleen Giles. A mother to be admired, Kathleen enriched the lives of a wide circle of those whom she touched and helped. She had many interests including the arts, music, reading, a variety of crafts, cooking, traveling and telling stories. She had a special love of sailing. A memorial service for Kathleen M. Giles will be held at 2 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 7, 2009, at the Covenant Hall of Yorkminster Presbyterian Church, 6218 George Washington Memorial Highway, Yorktown, VA. The family requests that flowers not be sent. Instead, any donations in Kathleen's memory should be made to Heifer International.

Disappointment

disappointment - n. a feeling of dissatisfaction that results when your expectations are not realized; "his hopes were so high he was doomed to disappointment"

I suppose that I am that noun - my hopes were set so high that i feel smacked with the potential of failure. Our attendance last night at True North was quite sad you see ... 25 people and there were 14 of us that were working (let me count the ways: John, Crystal, Jack, Kim, Kianne, Suanne, Brianne, Robin, Kevin, myself, Brian, Scott, Nick, Mark) to include band members, media, pastor, cookie baker, and team members. Five others were family members or significant others (Nick's girlfriend whose name I failed to get [shame on me!], Oenita, Tommy, Jimmy, Megan) of those involved in the service. Two attend faithfully (Mary and the young lady from St. Paul's Lutheran whose name I've forgotten[i know, i am soooo bad!]) each and every week. That left only four people (three St. Mark's regulars and 1 who for the life of me i cannot bring a mental image of into my brain) who had not been to True North before.

disappointed - adj. Thwarted in hope, desire, or expectation.

Disappointed? Oh heck yeah. Especially on the heals of the S/PPR committee meeting in which Pastor Jeff basically doomed us to failure; or so it sounded to me. sometimes i just wish that he'd keep his opinions to himself. i mean, how am i supposed to feel after being told that the minister of True North is not the right fit for such a service, that he [John] really has a heart for hospital chaplaincy, that the attendance has been seriously lacking and that the amount of monies collected each week is a trifle that isn't even enough to pay the lighting bills.

How do I pull myself out of this dejected feeling, this slump that causes my heart to fear and to withdraw, this lingering gut-wrenching feeling of desperation? Desperation is not what is needed right now, desperation is not helpful, desperation will only lead to impulsive actions and decisions that will (ok, could) cause the complete and total collapse and destruction of True North.

And yet ...

What am I to do? Where do I turn? (ok, i get how immensely selfish and arrogant those two questions sound - I am a part of a team and first and foremost I must MUST remember that it is 'what do WE do' and 'where do WE turn'!)

Obviously to God. We've known since day one that this has to be a god-driven service. We've known since our first service gathering that God has to not only guide us but lead this service. So?

So ...

So where does God seem to be? Where are those whose hearts he is touching and who he will (eventually) be bringing to our doors? I'm impatient, I know. I am results oriented, I know. We have now completed five weeks of a six-week sermon series and this weeks numbers suggest that the novelty has worn off and we are officially a fragile worship service that is limping upon on its last leg. Will next week be the death crawl into oblivion?

All I can do right at this moment is shed tears and plead to god for the salvation of this church mission. Lofty goals aside, i must pray for my own salvation as well which has seemed to be so immensely tied into the success of True North - almost as if i know that god will, would, could (ok, might maybe) consider my work and efforts when at final judgement i stand before the throne to be ... to be what? Condemned? I believe that deep within my broken heart. Will there truly be any deed or work or action (successful or otherwise) that can bring me into the arms of god even after my condemnation?

Have I been lying to myself and all the others all this time? Well of course I have been but I mean could I have so deceived myself?

When I told John last night that all I want from God, all I hope for from God is to be treated justly, when I said that I know that at that moment I was honest with myself, with God, and with another human being. I had hoped True North would help tip those scales of justice some what. Tip them how? I'm not sure yet. I know what I deserve, I guess I hope that the scales get tipped just a tad bit towards that grace and mercy that I hear so much about.

I'm fatally flawed and deserve nothing, no thing, absolutely no justice at all from god and yet here i sit with tears running swiftly down my cheeks praying for some sort of reprieve in the face of a struggling church that seems to be breathing its last dying death rattle.

God, remove me ME from this equation. Take this flawed and condemned person, that needs to see the success of True North for her own selfish purposes, away and apart from what I know can be all that You have desired it to be. Bring about a revitalization to True North that will bring hope and healing to all those whom you touch - that will bring strength and renewal to those who obediently follow your lead, and may True North be that beacon of light, that shining example of Your love, into the hearts and lives of this darkened community in which True North has been planted. Guide them oh Lord, let them feel and know your presence and may they ever trust in You. Amen and amen.

Such an idiot ...

... and sometimes it just really REALLY shows WAY more than at other times.

I worry about my son - heck I'm an overprotective mother so of COURSE I worry about my kids. He went to NYC for the weekend (much against my advice) to see his long-time girlfriend (of four years, a great young lady whom I love dearly. I know they'll marry some day). Ok, I get it, it's their anniversary and all that. But it's the middle of the fall term and the timing could be better.

Sure enough, he gets stuck in NYC and doesn't get out Sunday as originally planned. Ok, I get it; I get that things happen and there are extenuating circumstances, really I do. But I was boiling mad. So mad that I railed in on his father last night (course I was already biting at the bit to fight with him from earlier in the morning!).

In retrospect, I think that the thing that made me most mad was that he didn't think that I'd be worrying JUST as much about his trip back to Tech from NYC as I was about his trip TO NYC. He never thought to call us and say "Hey look, this is what happened and well I didn't get out so I'm still here." A phone call woulda been nice, son! Instead, we call him at 10:30 at night and find out that he's not almost "home".

At least I came to my senses BEFORE I kicked my husband out of our bed last night ...