Sunday

Huddled together under the sparse shade of the surprisingly less than adequate umbrella (certainly Starbucks could spring for larger patio furniture), we laughed and lamented the impending start of the new school year. Grateful to be immune to the fall's back to school anxiety, my happy go lucky attitude turned into a bit of amazement, both in a good and somewhat regretful way. I was a bit awe struck thinking about what would motivate adolescents to want to hang out with not-as-hip adults. Could it be the free algebra tutoring? Or how about the free pass to hide behind the sound board during service? Oh I know. It's the free rides around town when the parents can't play chauffeur. Well, whatever the reason, I guess the Lord makes us relational in ways we don't always deem "expected".

But what struck me more was an unexpected sadness that the grande Frappachinos and Chai teas (which Kamala's mom mistakenly orders as "tai chi") we were clutching were the primary drivers for my challenge to spend a daily five minutes with God for a week. The Type A-er in me wanted to see change - that those five minutes of fellowship would spur them onto a desire to give that time to God without any external motivation. I wanted to hear that their times were so good that five extended into ten, and the value of being in the Lord's company was well worth the investment. But I suppose I should leave the growth part to God. In the meantime, I'll keep watering, even if it is with hot white chocolate.

Nothing’s sacred, the days are cheap
Truth is thin on the ground
Still our prophets are crucified
Nobody believes we’re stumbling
It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming

Someone’s saying a prayer tonight
For hungry mouths to be filled
Someone kneels in the dark somewhere
And darkness is already crumbling
It’s Friday, but Sunday comes

(Chorus) Sunday – Hallelujah – it’s not so far, it’s not so far away
Sunday – Hallelujah – it’s not so far, it’s not so far away

Broken promises, weary hearts
But one promise remains: Crucified, he will come again
It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming
It’s Friday, but Sunday comes (Chorus)

Darkness is already crumbling
It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming

Just for the record, I don't think teenagers should be allowed to drink coffee. There, I said it.

Fear

Coming to a threeway intersection on the way to the next tee box, I was practically thrown out of the cart when my driver slammed on the brakes (whiplash hardly begins to describe what I experienced with all the rather abrupt stopping that afternoon). A right turn would turn us uphill into a wooded area. A left turn carried us down into an equally wooded unknown. And going straight invited us to bump on down a pothole riddled, narrow path just wide enough to squeeze us through. Of course, no tee box to be seen from where we sat. But how can I know what will happen if we choose to veer right, towards the shaded, less paved path? Is there enough room up there to make a U-turn? If only course knowledge came with a paid green fee.

Will I carry regret with me for years to come if I say no? How will he feel if I take steps this way instead of that way? How will she treat me if I do invest that time for that particular thing? There is always risk involved when a decision cannot be calculated or extrapolated, without that valuable course knowledge. And sometimes that risk brings fear...fear of the unknown. But if we never move, how do we ever get anywhere? How can I ever get to the next tee box?

When you do what you know is true, things get clearer. When you don't do what you know is true, what you don't know paralyzes you.

This statement struck me enough to cause me to risk my life, fumbling to find a pen to write down the nugget of truth on the remnant of a Post-It while I drove to my dental appointment. When I don't stand on the rock of truth, I cannot budge. Fear grips me to waver and even avoid the issue. But how I am fueled with confidence when my faith in God cements truth behind my actions. I have no need to doubt, no need to regret, no need to weigh the dissenting opinions of those who find it necessary to voice their thoughts.

And so I listen and look intently for God's leading, letting faith be the data I rest on to inch my lead feet forward with itty bitty nudges that grow bigger with that faith. Can't wait to dance with God!

My Way

Morgan Pressel pulled out driver on her approach to the green on the par 4, 14th hole in the final round of the US Open at Pine Needles. I suppose being 4 shots behind the lead with only four holes to go can make you whip out the big stick when you're not on the tee box. And to my utter amazement, I did not hear any protests from the announcers in regards to club selection. Instead, they remarked that it had come down to doing what you gotta do when you wanna save a stroke to win. On top of that, they sarcastically remarked, "How often do you get to practice this shot?" I had to laugh out loud, because I have heckled a fellow golfer for pulling out his driver on the fairway, even though that's his most reliable club. You just don't do that, y'know?

The other day, I picked up a copy of Golf magazine, of which I am four months behind reading. My scanning eyes happen to get stuck on the monthly "Cool Shots" article that coincidentally read, "Hitting Your Driver off the Deck". Now that had to be one of those times when God says to the nearest angel, "Watch this" punctuated by a big grin. Apparently this is not an original shot, so much so, we need to be taught the proper way to do it.

God continually has a sense of humor when it comes to these life lessons. In all this, I was keenly listening to what God wanted to teach me, since it definitely wasn't the golf shot (I can hardly hit the driver off the tee box; there'd be no way I could hit it off the fairway). For most of my life, I have been aware of a sense of doing things in a particular way. As an example, I very much prefer that cups and smaller bowls are placed in the upper carrier of my dishwasher, while pots and plates go in the bottom. My brother doesn't seem to share the same sentiment. In fact, I rather doubt he has sentiment at all when it comes to placement of dirty dishes. I have learned to suppress this frustration, though, since it is so not worth an argument. But I do not think suppression is what God wants me to go after. I feel He is telling me to let go of things that are not a matter of right and wrong. Let Rich put a cup in the lower carrier. Let my golfing friend use his Taylor Made on the short grass. Let them be who they are, and enjoy who God made them to be. Lighten up, Annie, and enjoy God's creation. I think I will find that they enjoy me more too.

In the meantime, do you think you can teach me how to hit my driver off the tee, God?

Baby Come Back

A few days ago, I noticed an eerie shadow protruding slightly behind the sponge that sits on the far side of my bathtub. The shadow didn't disappear with the time of day, so after awhile, I finally mustered up the courage to investigate. That little shadow was the short stem of a baby flower! I quickly recalled the cleanup from some gardening I had done just a week ago, and realized that this scrubber, which was just one step away from the dumpster, lay host to a new plant. Once used for the occasional tub scrubdown, that raggedy ol' sponge had transformed into the new home for a poppy sprout.

Just recently, I was once again struck by the awesomeness of God's redemptive nature - His extraordinary ability to redeem that which was lost, and even that which is outright antagonistic, where He is consciously forsaken. Our souls can be dead in the world, but then the Spirit reinflates our hearts the moment we turn back towards Him. How close to that trash bin we can be, and then suddenly, there is life renewed. What an opportune time for that sprout to bring life to that seemingly useless sponge. Rubbish becomes the bearer of new life. So once again, I was reminded that the Lord confirms the truth He communicates to us. I bet that's just God's form of punctuation. "Let's just make sure they know it's Me and that's My message...period...for now." But oh, just to hear His sweet voice. It's music to my ears.

If we would just stop feeding Him illustrations, maybe He could stop preaching. Until then, I'm going to first service to get a seat up front. Wanna join me?

Let Go Part II

All I have in my head for this entry is the urge to let go. God has been admonishing me to more than just be still, be patient, and wait. He has been admonishing me to let go. It's like that feeling of learning to ski. As a beginner, I was stiff and unyielding, overadjusting and flexing every muscle to compensate for the imbalanced slipping and sliding on the slopes. Once I relaxed a bit (mind you, this took a couple seasons), the turns came much more easily. I don't know about you, but it is amazing to me how much easier it is to capitulate than it is to labor, and yet I fight it every step of the way.

It is burdensome to hang onto what ails you or what you don't understand or what is not completely in your control. People can easily fall into one of those categories. We're all so different, and those who find their way into the intimate confines of your constitution can be, well (if I may call the glass half empty), liabilities. You risk their making a misguided move only to wound you. It is a gamble we willing take in order to enjoy the fruit of friendship, and better yet, fellowship. But when the inevitable contusions are inflicted, forgiveness is the only way those wounds and scars can heal.

In Matthew 5:3, Jesus wisely affirmed this in the truth that "blessed are the poor in Spirit". How ironic is it that once we reach the end of our proverbial rope, God will go beyond our earthly limitations if only we ask Him.

And so I humbly acquiesce, I willingly yield, I surrender all. "...Yet not my will, but yours be done." (Luke 22:42)

Looking forward to the freedom.

Sifting through my past blog entries, I was surprised to see that in my first edition of Let Go (http://anniebob.blogspot.com/2006/01/let-go.html); God was teaching me something somewhat different.

Long Way to Go

Friday, 24 May, Sunol Valley Palm Course, Hole #8 195 yards to the center of the green.

As we waited for the green to clear, my impatience surveyed the situation - an impending, unwelcomed gallery and the opportunity to tee off first in my foursome (as my fellow golfmates had decent chances to land the green). My driver was the perfect club for this hole, as it had never allowed me the luxury of more than 200 yards. My debate to hit or not lasted all of 10 seconds, at which time I stood up on the box, launched my slightly scuffed Lady's Precept straight at the pin, and fished up my brush tee before seeing the ball land. Chip and putt for par was the last thing I thought while my buddies prepped for their shots.

Driving up to the green, we counted 1 on the green, a 2nd near the right bunker, and a 3rd in the sand trap. Driving donuts in front and to the right of the green, we all could not believe my straight shot was nowhere to be found. So I settled for a drop and the unsatisfying feeling of having hit a decent shot that would get lost in a double bogey or worse. But as I scurried to my back of the green chip, I noticed a ball about 15 yards beyond the green. There it was, over 220 yards from where I had smacked it. In disbelief, I chipped on, and two putted for bogey. Good thing I let those guys in front of us clear before I hit!

Not a hole in one, and not even par, but passing the 200 yard mark was pretty sweet. When's our next tee time?

What a Feeling

Remembering our spiritual forefathers, I am drawn to the example of Aaron and Hur and how great a role they played in Moses's victory over the Amalekites. If it weren't for their unselfish gestures of support, how would the landscape of history have changed? How would God have shown His sovereignty and glory if not through the raised arms of Moses, held up by the strength and endurance of his trusted compatriots? I'm sure God would have devised another amazing, maybe even stupefying way to display His mighty fist. But this story speaks intimately to me through those two, who steadied the banner of God, which just so happened to be the weary arms of a friend.

I have been poked by this, because sometimes I only minister to the needs of my friends when they hurt, when they've fallen down the proverbial hill, and when my eyes see the blood. Would I climb the mountain to persevere for them? My heart cries out "of course I would!" because it breaks when their pain is evident to me, whether spoken or simply sensed. But what about the times when they are experiencing His joy? He has designed us to be limited, and even in the times when we are joyfully serving Him to our utmost, there are some tasks that do require a third or fourth hand. Why do I only look for the fallen, when I can also be used to give a boost to the faithful servant who could reach a little higher if only with a bit of help?

My 7 year old nephew sparked this notion in me one Sunday in GX service. Motivated by the speaker's assignment to not only befriend those who would be there for you, but also to be the kind of friend people seek out, Nicholas asked me how my big toe was doing. This threw me for a loop, because I had practically forgotten about my latest mishap. Back over Christmas, I had pulled a ligament in my right big toe while working on the master bathroom. And here I was, more than three months later, still nursing my "work"-related injury, but going at it solo, because those around me had moved on with life. It's not to say that I expect my friends to nurse me back to health (how would they?). But the mere mention of it struck an encouraging chord in me that I have long not felt. The same chicken nugget consuming boy who I am quick to reprimand for drinking too much milk before dinner's end reached out to hold up my arm...I mean big toe. When I questioned why he recalled the clumsy event, he simply replied, "I knew it hurt a lot." And even though I was walking almost normally that day, somehow he knew I had just gotten used to the pain. Now his asking did not instantaneously heal my toe, but it may as well have. This kind of championing made me walk with less of a limp that day.

Ultimately, what is my driving motivation? To encourage (which is not my gifting) so that my friends feel better no matter what level they're at? Possibly. But more likely, God is just waiting for another tidbit of glory to come His way. And that morsel doesn't always have to come from His pulling us from the wreckage.

On an indirectly related note, check this out. Now this is tight. Why can't it be this simple?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpVsF4W8V2Y

I Will Remember You

Easter Sunday will never be the same. To me, it has always been the celebration of God's power, the satisfying of His wrath, and His triumph over the sin of man. But now it will also be the anniversary of a death. My mind is charred with images of friends shrouded in black, and my heart is stirred with pangs of regret and endearing words spoken too late. Too young, too soon, too many unnecessary tears.

As family and friends touted the finer points of his life and personality, I was struck with the realization that my friends may not be able to say the same things about me. Granted, I'm not him, but the qualities that touched their lives are ones I would do right to emulate. But sometimes I find myself living my life like He's already finished making that proverbial, dramatic change in me, and there's not much left to do but tweak here and refine there. True, He has done an amazing work these past 10 years in quelling my irrational anger, but shoot, I ain't perfect...not even close! I walked away from the memorial wanting so much to step aside and allow God to continue to change me, however painful the molding might be. I have to trust that He will complete the good work He has started in me, however much time I have left on this earth.

May you find rest, L.

C is for Cookie

Which is your favorite Girl Scout cookie? A coworker coerced the rest of us into shelling out our hard-earned loose change (which isn't so loose anymore - $3.50 a box?? you almost have to take out a loan to buy a box of cookies that costs 85 cents to make) to send her niece to Disneyland. No fair using a green beanie clad youngster to pull heart strings and expand waist lines.

Girl Scout cookie popularity and associated personality:
Thin Mints 26% Popular, strong, confident
Samoas 20% Brainy, complex, mysterious
Tagalongs 13% Artistic, creative, dramatic
Do-Si-Dos 10% Easy going, trustworthy, friendly
Trefoils 8% Loyal, true blue, honest
The other varieties combined account for the remaining 23%

Well, whichever cookie is your favorite makes you too weak to say no to kiddies bearing age old sweets. Yum.

Prop Me Up Against the Jukebox if I Die

If I were stranded on an island and could only listen to three songs for the rest of my natural life, these are the three I would choose. When I was asked this, I couldn't even consider any secular songs; I would want the words of God to be what keeps my mind and heart hopeful. And these days, I'm also finding myself skipping over the secular songs on my iPod (yes, I have an iPod - that's a whole 'nother blog entry) when I'm running or cooking. My heart just wants to sing the praises of God. Now how cheesy does that sound?

So here are the three songs I can't get enough of today:

How Great Thou Art sung by Gary Chapman

Your Grace is Enough sung by Chris Tomlin
Great is Your faithfulness oh God
You wrestle with the sinner's heart
You lead us by still waters and to mercy
And nothing can keep us apart
So remember Your people
Remember Your children
Remember Your promise Oh God
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough for me
Great is Your love and justice God
You use the weak to lead the strong
You lead us in the song of Your salvation
And all Your people sing along
So remember Your people
Remember Your children
Remember Your promise Oh God
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough for me (x2)
So remember Your people
Remember Your children
Remember Your promise Oh God
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough for me
Your grace is enough
Heaven reaching down to us
Your grace is enough for me
God i see your grace is enough
I'm covered in your love
Your grace is enough for me For me

Still sung by Hillsong

Hide me now

Under your wings

Cover me within your mighty hand

When the oceans rise and thunders roar

I will soar with you above the storm

Father you are king over the flood

I will be still and know you are God

Find rest my soul

In Christ alone

Know his power

In quietness and trust

I watched this documentary relaying a few accounts of Christians who were persecuted for their faith in China. I was struck by this one man who was imprisoned for over 20 years, all the while remembering the words to "The Old Rugged Cross". On the video, he and his 70? 80? year old (shoot, they looked practically 90) wife sang this hymn for the cameras with an outstretched arm and fist seeming to keep the beat, but I think more to symbolize how much he believed in what he was singing. Those words carried him through two decades of imprisonment. Pretty powerful.

So what are your three songs?

Boy in the Box

If you ask me, sometimes I do believe we are dealt raw deals every now and then. Now this isn't a red flag to warn of a venting session fueled by self pity for somewhat uncomfortable circumstances. No, this is simply an attempt to offer an entry and give some indication that I am still alive and kicking!

I think I may have missed the mark, though, in that my attitude has not been right in relation to a friend holding a proverbial bad hand. Reading in James about exuding God's peaceable and gentle spirit made me think hard about why I can't seem to love my friend as she needs to be loved. Maybe because I'm not God? Seems too simple an excuse. I seem to be suffering from feelings of having something to teach her, as if my similar experiences give me special insight into her situation. I am praying that I would step aside so that God could do His thing through me instead of my trying to do God's work for Him. Definitely character building for me.

The Lord has beset a less than subtle nudge that I need to show care for her in this time, and that means I need to make myself available to her, even in the midst of my busy schedule. This doesn't require me to initiate; she tends to seek me out with a frequency that is less than commodious. Who knew I was claustrophobic? Times like these, though, I am grateful my time is practically my own. I think my friend just needs company and someone to bounce her thoughts off of. Maybe she can get her emotions out on Wii Sports. It's amazing how therapeutic boxing can be!

In the meantime, is it too early to pack? Can't wait to leave.

Running

"When I first took up running, it could be more accurately described as "wunning," because I would walk and run. I would be walking, and then I would talk myself into running for just five minutes. Once I was over that five-minute hurdle, I found that I could run ten minutes. And so it went. I discovered it required some perseverance and self-discipline on my part to build up endurance for running. Show me a person who is successful in anything, and I will show you a person who has some discipline. In the same way, to be successful spiritually means consistently embracing what will help us spiritually while turning away from anything that would weaken our walk. It comes down to exercising and applying discipline in our lives as Christians. I know that's a word we don't like to hear. We don't like the idea of discipline. But if we want to be successful as followers of Christ, then we will need discipline in our lives. I believe that one of the most important things that will help us spiritually is getting God's Word into our lives on a consistent basis. We must learn to daily study the Bible and hide it in our hearts, and we can start a little at a time—like me and my "wunning."

Leave it to an evangelist to sum up my life. I'm tired of the backwards steps, and the inevitable feeling that you're getting nowhere. Gotta get some of that discipline boost along the way. Ya, that'll do it. Anyone have some handy?

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Have you ever felt like all the love in your heart is directed in all the wrong places? Like you've put your last quarter in the near extinct payphone only to pick up the receiver of the phone next to it and not get a dialtone? There's that panic involved in letting that last quarter loose and not having your emergency call tap through. Guess that's what happens when you don't intentionally seek after God. You love the things of this world, but the things of this world build you up and up and up, then suddenly drop you off a 10 story cliff. That's the day you wake up and are bewildered to realize that you've gone way past your exit. So not only will you be late getting to where you're going, but you might also run out of gas turning back. It's all about pain. Pain that you've brought on yourself.

Redemption, fulfillment, and joy. What does it all mean?

Go ahead, world, take your best shot. I've been there before; I'm ready to fall again.

Time After Time

It boggles my mind that I can survey the past and see how my choices have influenced and perhaps even steered how the Lord has cut in half, reversed, and even killed dreams that were not in line with His will. But what does that matter if those dreams were simply visions of what my own, ill-governed heart dreamt up?

Just recently, a friend (thanks, g!) reminded me that it's not happiness that the Lord promises us. But He so desires to give us His blessings. I often look with bewilderment upon myself when I choose all but what God wants for me, those things that He knows I need. My weak-faith-laced distrust of the only giver of good things does nothing but dispell the illusive hope I so desperately need.

Now therefore reflect carefully on the recent past, before one stone was laid on another in the Lord’s temple. From that time when one came expecting a heap of twenty measures, there were only ten; when one came to the wine vat to draw out fifty measures from it, there were only twenty. I struck all the products of your labor with blight, disease, and hail, and yet you brought nothing to me,’ says the Lord. ‘Think carefully about the past: from today, the twenty-fourth day of the ninth month, to the day work on the temple of the Lord was resumed, think about it. The seed is still in the storehouse, isn’t it? And the vine, fig tree, pomegranate, and olive tree have not produced. Nevertheless, from today on I will bless you.’” Haggai 2:15-19

Okay head, talk to my heart. I want those blessings!

Now That You're Near

This weekend, as I lay practically immobilized by periodic stomach pains and playing host to a ping pong game between a fever and a headache, I was reminded of God's perseverance. How much so do those I expect care and concern from disappoint me. But from God, how much more does He care for me, regardless of how far I stray? When I take a trip away from home, He remembers me. When I fall ill, He watches over me and takes care of me. He remembers me. And how much I do cherish His remembrance of me.

The older I get, the more I understand how differently God has wired women and men. Outside of the obvious unlikenesses, we women tend to be more insecure, needing constant reassurance. This, I find, can be the source of far too many miscommunications and misguided expectations. Is it because we have been tagged the weaker sex and the helper and thus have subsequently forced ourselves into these predetermined molds? Or is it simply because that's the way we were created? Regardless of why it's this way, it's just that way. And in relationships, there's got to be some effort from the girl to not be so needy, while the guy has to show care even when he doesn't feel the need. Ah, if it were only that simple.

Thankfully God provides ample love beyond what we think we need. He remembers us. He remembers me.

Coming Attractions

Just before I headed out the door to meet my coworker for a ride to SFO, United emailed to announce a two hour delay to my flight. Good thing I checked before taking off! So after a nap, some golf on TV, and a little weekend cleaning, I headed off for a weeklong toil in the far east.

Armed with a handful of crosswords, Alice's Walmart book, and my mp3 player, I thought I was ready for the 12 hour flight. And just as we were in queue to take off, the tower called us back to the gate to troubleshoot an electrical problem with engine #3. I can't say I was disappointed they caught the problem before we took off, but they did make us sit another two hours before we left SFO. And to my dismay, I was seated next to the most fidgety men on the plane, who could not sit still for the life of them (what exactly does that phrase mean anyhow?). Add in a few not so entertaining movies, some nasty Chinese American plane food (the instant noodle snack mid-flight was the best meal), and you have for a rather unpleasant jaunt to the office. But the worst part didn't hit until the next morning.

95F with a heat index of 110F. Did I mention I witnessed the first run of a fire test facility at the plant? The pretty flames were cool to look at, but man, if it wasn't hot enough to begin with...

The one redeeming part of this trip so far has been the food, which has been predictably decent. Oh, and seeing a few coworkers again. They seemed to have recovered well from their visit to ALCF with me last year. And I do look forward to continuing that conversation with them this week.

Stir fried snake heads with celery shoots anyone?

Climb Every Mountain Part II

It is with with great joy that I type this entry with all 10 finger digits in tact! Half Dome has been conquered, and hence, crossed off the proverbial list with permanent ink. *insert smug grin here* Okay, so it wasn't actually conquered, more like scaled, or shall we just say that I got up and down with no flying Tupperware hurled down at me with the force of a sledge hammer? Outside of being out of shape and being feasted on by a few dozen skeeters, I hiked the 18 mile, 4500+ ft of elevation without requiring emegency evacuation or the need to run down the mountain in record time to avoid appendage amputation. God is good, and even better the second time around.

It is finished.

I Am Desperate For You

There are times when teaching is not enough, when lessons are better experientially learned. Turn off your brain and let life lead you by the hand. This past Sunday, my pastor let me do just that...gave my head a rest and let my heart experience worship.

Climbing out of bed was quite the chore. And even more hindering was the long, arduous walk to church. Every bone in my body yearned to roll back into my comfy bed and doze the day away. But somehow, the Spirit motored my legs the quarter mile to my preferred place of worship. After Pastor Paul's 10 minute exhortation, of which I do not remember much, the transformation of attitude commenced. Terrance and Portia led the singing fest off with an upbeat, joyful tune that brought parishoners to their feet. But the magnitude of my sin caused me to grieve in the midst of what should have been celebration. I could not lift my hands, chained by a burdened heart, caused by a chasm dug by my own depravity. Then suddenly, as if God landed a decisive one-two punch on the evil one, my guilt turned into a sense of privilege and an awareness that an amazing dose of grace was gifted to me. It then became a new day, and worship began. And my most prized form of communication with the Lord came to life again (I believe that music, especially harmony, was just too good for God to keep to Himself). And the best part - when the Spirit led Portia to sing a melodic prayer for the pastor. Oh my sweet, sweet Lord.

I didn't want it to end.

Anyone Out There

Is anyone home?

What originally started out as an outlet for my random musings has become a black hole for monthly, inconsequential brain farts. I don't know why it means anything to me, that someone reads my ramblings. But honestly speaking, it does. I guess it would help if I publicized this site, but I am wary of letting the riffraff in. So to the few and far between who do read my blog, is it worth it for me to continue?

I write this while I'm a bit tipsy, too, so take what I say with a large grain of salt. My bed is squeaking to my heartbeat, very weird.

The Remedy

Between you and me, this new job is tough. In my little mind, I have the end goal all tied up in a little pretty package, complete with a shiny bow and matching tag. How to get from here to there is a bit fuzzy, but the steps are not completely indelible. The problem is motivation. How do you bring others to run the race with you?

I find myself pondering the way Jesus led His disciples throughout His three year, active ministry here on earth. And as ideal a leader as He exemplified, there were still times He caught them sleeping on the job, panicking when the winds rocked their otherwise placid world, and allowing greed and selfish ambition to pave the way. But what can you expect? They were mere men! So if the greatest leader of all time had problems with His less than perfect flock, then how much better can a marred excuse for a captain lead an equally sinful crew?

Okay, I'll leave that question unanswered. Time to take the pessimistic cap off. As I begin to meliorate my wielding-the-wand-of-authority skills over my 180 fledglings, I sense a need for change, mondo change. Not having intentionally sought it out myself, my curiousity is causing me to more carefully gander at the wares my recruiting "friends" have thrown my way. Exciting times coming...I hope...I pray...