Just when you thought it was safe to take off the studded tires.
It snowed four inches yesterday. We're beginning to understand what everybody meant when they told us that the winters are not bad here, they're just long.
I believe....
I spent this evening talking to a group of teenagers from the church about the Apostles' Creed. They asked some excellent questions, and it was great to see these young people show a genuine interest in the teaching of Bible. The discussion went far afield at some points, but that was perfectly fine with me.
But why is it that when I'm with teenagers I feel like I'm 60 years old? I think because when I was their age, there was no significant difference in my mind between a 38-year old and a 60-year old. And I'm sure it's the same with them.
Interesting news from Alaska.
I've been meaning for some time to post local news stories that are uniquely Alaskan. I came across one the other day, actually a sad story. A locally famous moose by the name of "Buzzwinkle" died. Buzzwinkle earned his nickname last winter after he ate too many fermented crab apples, got his antlers entangled in someone's Christmas lights, and then spent the day staggering through the streets of downtown Anchorage. If I remember right, Buzzwinkle had to be put down a few days ago by the authorities because he was dying of some natural cause.
Only in Alaska!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Monday report
One of the challenges of having young children in Alaska is knowing what to do with them during the long winter months (and since we have an inch of snow on the ground, it is still basically winter here). This winter, we've found two activities that have worked: ice skating and sledding. Today, being a Monday and my day off, we took the kids sledding at a place just outside of Wasilla called Hatcher Pass.
What a gorgeous day to be outside! The sun was shining, it wasn't too cold, and the mountains were beautiful. As far as I can tell, Hatcher Pass could be a Vail or Breckenridge were it ever fully developed. The only drawback was the sled hill had about six inches of fresh powder on it, making it hard build up any steam on a plastic sled.
The day's comic relief was taking Brinkley for a ride in the sled. She hunkered down on the sled with her head on her paws; I think she might have been praying. The next time I tried to take her down, she bailed out right away. Brinkley is a old and wise dog, and knew sledding was a bad idea. After all, she hasn't live to be over 80 dog years by pulling stunts like that.
We treated the kids and ourselves to some hot chocolate later. Then, we came home for the usual routine: dinner and bedtime.
Robyn and I finished the day by reading together. Our current book is "1776", by David McCullough.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Our daughter, bookworm extraordinaire
Our oldest daughter Meredith, age 7, loves to read. So we were not surprised by her enthusiastic response when Robyn told her about a reading contest she could enter. The rules are simple: read 40 age-appropriate books by September 15th and submit a list of them to the contest organizers (a homeschool curriculum company). The first 250 students in each age category to submit their book list receives a $10 gift certificate for the catalog. And all those who finish their books by the deadline are entered into a drawing for cash prizes.
Meredith is not the type who has trouble focusing on a goal once she is determined to reach it. As soon as she heard about this contest, like a world-class sprinter exploding from the blocks at the starting gun, Meredith began her mad dash to finish her 40 books. Nothing else in life mattered. Mealtime, which for most of us is a pleasant break from our daily activities, was for Meredith an annoying interruption. Even her piano playing took a hiatus. Instead of hearing the halting notes to "The Entertainer", we heard the regular flutter of pages as Meredith methodically worked her way through book after book after book.
Meredith tore through our personal stash of qualifying books in no time. So, Robyn took her to the library to plunder their selection. That was yesterday morning. By yesterday afternoon, Meredith was back at the library for a new stack. And then today, she had to go back to the library a third time for yet another supply. She must have been the talk of the librarian break room. Every one of them expressed amazement that she was back for more.
This evening, less than 48 hours from the time she began, she finished her list. Forty books, all duly read and noted on her list. By my calculation, she read about twice as many books in two days than I read in four years of college. She is the Princess of Print, the Queen of the Tome.
I told her tonight at dinner she is a genuine bibliophile. She asked, "What's that?" Drawing on my seminary language training, I explained to her with all the erudition I could muster what the Greek roots of the word are, and what it means. I know that at this rate, she'll be smarter than me soon. But, at least I still know a few things she doesn't.
Meredith is not the type who has trouble focusing on a goal once she is determined to reach it. As soon as she heard about this contest, like a world-class sprinter exploding from the blocks at the starting gun, Meredith began her mad dash to finish her 40 books. Nothing else in life mattered. Mealtime, which for most of us is a pleasant break from our daily activities, was for Meredith an annoying interruption. Even her piano playing took a hiatus. Instead of hearing the halting notes to "The Entertainer", we heard the regular flutter of pages as Meredith methodically worked her way through book after book after book.
Meredith tore through our personal stash of qualifying books in no time. So, Robyn took her to the library to plunder their selection. That was yesterday morning. By yesterday afternoon, Meredith was back at the library for a new stack. And then today, she had to go back to the library a third time for yet another supply. She must have been the talk of the librarian break room. Every one of them expressed amazement that she was back for more.
This evening, less than 48 hours from the time she began, she finished her list. Forty books, all duly read and noted on her list. By my calculation, she read about twice as many books in two days than I read in four years of college. She is the Princess of Print, the Queen of the Tome.
I told her tonight at dinner she is a genuine bibliophile. She asked, "What's that?" Drawing on my seminary language training, I explained to her with all the erudition I could muster what the Greek roots of the word are, and what it means. I know that at this rate, she'll be smarter than me soon. But, at least I still know a few things she doesn't.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
The wait is over
Spring has finally arrived to Alaska. Almost all the snow is gone, the sun is shining long hours, and the daytime highs are in the 40's (yes, that means Spring around here).
But a far more significant harbinger of the new season is Opening Day for the 2008 Major League Baseball season. Unfortunately, the Cardinals' Opening Day on Monday was a disappointment. It started out great, to be sure. The Cards had a 5-1 lead over the Colorado Rockies and seemed to be cruising towards their first "W" of the year. Albert Pujols hit a home run (which at the time, put him on pace to hit 162 homers this season!). Things were looking up. Maybe the Cardinals were putting last year's woes behind them and were back to their winning ways.
But, the game was rained out, and since it didn't last five innings, the whole thing was scratched (even the individuals stats don't count - so much for Pujol's first homerun). They played the game the next day and lost 2-1. The winning run was walked in. This does not bode well for the season.
But, there are 161 games left. And, thanks to the amazing technology of the internet, we are able to listen to every single game of the season through our computer. So, even though St. Louis is far, far, from Wasilla, we'll be able to hear Mike Shannon and John Rooney call what we hope to be another run at a pennant this year.
But a far more significant harbinger of the new season is Opening Day for the 2008 Major League Baseball season. Unfortunately, the Cardinals' Opening Day on Monday was a disappointment. It started out great, to be sure. The Cards had a 5-1 lead over the Colorado Rockies and seemed to be cruising towards their first "W" of the year. Albert Pujols hit a home run (which at the time, put him on pace to hit 162 homers this season!). Things were looking up. Maybe the Cardinals were putting last year's woes behind them and were back to their winning ways.
But, the game was rained out, and since it didn't last five innings, the whole thing was scratched (even the individuals stats don't count - so much for Pujol's first homerun). They played the game the next day and lost 2-1. The winning run was walked in. This does not bode well for the season.
But, there are 161 games left. And, thanks to the amazing technology of the internet, we are able to listen to every single game of the season through our computer. So, even though St. Louis is far, far, from Wasilla, we'll be able to hear Mike Shannon and John Rooney call what we hope to be another run at a pennant this year.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
An unwelcome visitor
Early this morning, about 5:00, while all of us were still sound asleep in our beds, the doorbell rang. I've experienced a few knocks at the door in the middle of the night, and there is nothing that will get me out of bed quicker. You just can't hit "snooze" on the doorbell.
Since it was an odd hour to come knocking, I decided to shout through the door instead of just swinging it wide open to see who might be there. When I asked, "who is it?", the voice from outside responded with obscenities. The more I asked him who he was, what he wanted, who he was looking for, the more he piled on the insults and obscenities. And, he kept banging on the door, trying to push it open, and ringing the doorbell.
It was obvious he was drunk, but the scary part was not knowing if he was just a mildly belligerent but basically harmless drunk, or an armed and dangerous, violent drunk. So, I kept the door shut.
One of the first things I told the guy was that if he didn't go away, I would call the police. He said he didn't care and that he was staying. So, I hollered at Robyn to call the police. While we waited for the cops to arrive, which seemed to take a while (Robyn called again to let them know the situation was pretty urgent), I tried to tell our visitor that he was at the wrong house. It was useless; he was convinced he was at the right house and wasn't going anywhere until I let him in. I'm thankful the kids couldn't hear the man, because although their vocabularies would have expanded significantly, it would have been with words not suitable for a pastor's children!
Robyn and the children stayed upstairs. Maggie and Moriah actually slept through the whole episode, but Meredith and Sander were pretty scared. Meredith prayed that the police would come soon, and Sander was shaking all over.
I was very relieved to see two police vehicles drive up yo the house, with their spotlights on (one of my thoughts was actually, "I'm so glad to live in a place where I can trust the police to do the job that needs to be done here."). I watched out the window as the two officers, a man and a woman, talked to the man, put handcuffs on him, frisked him, and led him back to one of the cars. Thankfully, it didn't look like he was armed or meant any harm. After they arrested him, one of the officers talked to me and didn't seem too worried about it. It appears he was just stoned out of his mind and was at the wrong house. His belligerence was because he thought I was giving him a hard time for refusing to open the door.
I couldn't go back to sleep after that, though. In my mind, I don't believe he is going to come back (unless he makes the same mistake twice!). But, I will feel better after a quiet night or two.
When we talked about it with the kids, I said that we should not only give thanks to God that it wasn't a more serious situation, but that we should pray for this man (I also explained that he had drunk too much wine or beer). Sander did pray for him tonight when I put him to bed: "Thank you for the man who knocked-ed on the door last night, thank you that the police camed-ed, and thank you that he drink-ed too much wine"!
Since it was an odd hour to come knocking, I decided to shout through the door instead of just swinging it wide open to see who might be there. When I asked, "who is it?", the voice from outside responded with obscenities. The more I asked him who he was, what he wanted, who he was looking for, the more he piled on the insults and obscenities. And, he kept banging on the door, trying to push it open, and ringing the doorbell.
It was obvious he was drunk, but the scary part was not knowing if he was just a mildly belligerent but basically harmless drunk, or an armed and dangerous, violent drunk. So, I kept the door shut.
One of the first things I told the guy was that if he didn't go away, I would call the police. He said he didn't care and that he was staying. So, I hollered at Robyn to call the police. While we waited for the cops to arrive, which seemed to take a while (Robyn called again to let them know the situation was pretty urgent), I tried to tell our visitor that he was at the wrong house. It was useless; he was convinced he was at the right house and wasn't going anywhere until I let him in. I'm thankful the kids couldn't hear the man, because although their vocabularies would have expanded significantly, it would have been with words not suitable for a pastor's children!
Robyn and the children stayed upstairs. Maggie and Moriah actually slept through the whole episode, but Meredith and Sander were pretty scared. Meredith prayed that the police would come soon, and Sander was shaking all over.
I was very relieved to see two police vehicles drive up yo the house, with their spotlights on (one of my thoughts was actually, "I'm so glad to live in a place where I can trust the police to do the job that needs to be done here."). I watched out the window as the two officers, a man and a woman, talked to the man, put handcuffs on him, frisked him, and led him back to one of the cars. Thankfully, it didn't look like he was armed or meant any harm. After they arrested him, one of the officers talked to me and didn't seem too worried about it. It appears he was just stoned out of his mind and was at the wrong house. His belligerence was because he thought I was giving him a hard time for refusing to open the door.
I couldn't go back to sleep after that, though. In my mind, I don't believe he is going to come back (unless he makes the same mistake twice!). But, I will feel better after a quiet night or two.
When we talked about it with the kids, I said that we should not only give thanks to God that it wasn't a more serious situation, but that we should pray for this man (I also explained that he had drunk too much wine or beer). Sander did pray for him tonight when I put him to bed: "Thank you for the man who knocked-ed on the door last night, thank you that the police camed-ed, and thank you that he drink-ed too much wine"!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thoughts on preaching
Our local newspaper, The Frontiersman, published an article on its website written by a local pastor containing his thoughts on the media's response to the preaching of Barack Obama's pastor, Rev. Jeremiah Wright.
I had been thinking about this myself a bit, and his article prompted me to leave a response. One of my comments was, how strangely refreshing that a preacher is making news for what he says in the pulpit, not for his scandalous conduct!
The pastor who wrote the article argued that since preaching is an art form, especially African-American preaching, it is sheer ignorance on the part of the media to parse small snippets of his sermons as though they alone actually contain the message he is communicating to his church. If the reporters knew the first thing about sermonizing, he argued, especially in the African-American tradition, they would understand that what Wright has said is not really what the congregation takes away from his sermons.
It was an interesting article, though I disagreed with much of it. The pastor was correct to say that sermons are not lectures. A sermon does aim for the heart; preaching is not merely an intellectual exercise. And, it is true that there is a great art to preaching that goes beyond simply communicating information in a didactic fashion.
If I had more space (I was only allowed 100 words!), I would have included the following thoughts:
First, preaching is all about communicating truth. The Apostle Paul wrote, "by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God" (2 Cor. 4:2). Now, preachers exaggerate to make a point, or even say something shocking in order to drive their message home. Jesus himself did this. He said to cut off your hand if it causes you to sin (Matt. 5:30). He didn't mean this literally, but was communicating the truth of the seriousness of sin.
Truth is the preacher's stock-in-trade. It is a sad thing to hear a preacher making outrageous assertions to evoke an emotional response. Can truth ever be dispensable in this way for a preacher? How can he preach God's truth with integrity if he is not committed to truth in principle?
Secondly, preaching, at least Christian preaching, is the proclamation of a message. Namely, the good news of Christ's death and resurrection to save us from our sins. Political sermons, whether on the left or right, use a sacred instrument for profane (as in, common) purposes. Do we have such a low view of the Kingdom of God, and such a disregard for the urgency of the gospel, that we forfeit preaching Christ in order to advance our agenda for this world? The first Christians turned the world upside down precisely because they preached the glory of the world to come (and that had come in Christ).
I had been thinking about this myself a bit, and his article prompted me to leave a response. One of my comments was, how strangely refreshing that a preacher is making news for what he says in the pulpit, not for his scandalous conduct!
The pastor who wrote the article argued that since preaching is an art form, especially African-American preaching, it is sheer ignorance on the part of the media to parse small snippets of his sermons as though they alone actually contain the message he is communicating to his church. If the reporters knew the first thing about sermonizing, he argued, especially in the African-American tradition, they would understand that what Wright has said is not really what the congregation takes away from his sermons.
It was an interesting article, though I disagreed with much of it. The pastor was correct to say that sermons are not lectures. A sermon does aim for the heart; preaching is not merely an intellectual exercise. And, it is true that there is a great art to preaching that goes beyond simply communicating information in a didactic fashion.
If I had more space (I was only allowed 100 words!), I would have included the following thoughts:
First, preaching is all about communicating truth. The Apostle Paul wrote, "by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God" (2 Cor. 4:2). Now, preachers exaggerate to make a point, or even say something shocking in order to drive their message home. Jesus himself did this. He said to cut off your hand if it causes you to sin (Matt. 5:30). He didn't mean this literally, but was communicating the truth of the seriousness of sin.
Truth is the preacher's stock-in-trade. It is a sad thing to hear a preacher making outrageous assertions to evoke an emotional response. Can truth ever be dispensable in this way for a preacher? How can he preach God's truth with integrity if he is not committed to truth in principle?
Secondly, preaching, at least Christian preaching, is the proclamation of a message. Namely, the good news of Christ's death and resurrection to save us from our sins. Political sermons, whether on the left or right, use a sacred instrument for profane (as in, common) purposes. Do we have such a low view of the Kingdom of God, and such a disregard for the urgency of the gospel, that we forfeit preaching Christ in order to advance our agenda for this world? The first Christians turned the world upside down precisely because they preached the glory of the world to come (and that had come in Christ).
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Sad news
Who knows the battles of the heart that rage within a person? We found out yesterday that one of the coaches at the gymnastics school where Meredith and Maggie take lessons was killed the day before. "Coach Jay" was 42 years old, and was by all accounts a great coach and popular with the kids and parents alike. Our children didn't have him as a coach, but knew him since he worked there. I had never met him, but I distinctly remember watching him once listening excitedly as Sander explained to him that once he was four years old, he was going to take gymnastics.
Coach Jay struggled with some serious personal problems. A friend of ours, whose children took lessons from him for years, ministered to him in the midst of his struggles, helping him and speaking to him about the gospel. But he was overcome in the end. He was shot by police officers who went to his house after a call from his father in Florida who was fearful that Jay was suicidal. Apparently, Jay purposely drew their fire in order to be killed.
The whole thing is sad. Yes, God is in control and will bring good out of it. But the only right response to something like this is to do what Jesus did before the tomb of Lazarus, to weep over the evil sin has brought into this world.
Coach Jay struggled with some serious personal problems. A friend of ours, whose children took lessons from him for years, ministered to him in the midst of his struggles, helping him and speaking to him about the gospel. But he was overcome in the end. He was shot by police officers who went to his house after a call from his father in Florida who was fearful that Jay was suicidal. Apparently, Jay purposely drew their fire in order to be killed.
The whole thing is sad. Yes, God is in control and will bring good out of it. But the only right response to something like this is to do what Jesus did before the tomb of Lazarus, to weep over the evil sin has brought into this world.
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