100 Last Year

My grandmother learned to play on her. So did my great aunt. So did my brother, sister, I, and my four children. Bless her heart.

She was born in 1908 in Chicago — at least that’s what the serial number indicates. My parents had it restored for me in 1981, right down to the elegant Bush & Gertz signature logo. The musician/technician disassembled her entirely, replaced internal parts as necessary, and stripped/refinished every piece.

Her first scratch came from one of my cats. That was the same day my indoor cats became outdoor cats. Don’t feel too sorry for them. They lived a bunch more years, and were happier outside than in.

She’s well-preserved for her age, what with the restoration and all. Still, she’s birthed four more piano students since ‘81, no small feat. Her countenance is still polished, her posture erect, her ivories still white and lined up like a perfect set of teeth.

Today she sits with pride in the living room, where anyone driving by our house can enjoy her beauty.

And I missed her birthday. I know she still loves me, but I can’t help but grieve. She reminds me how often I overlook other important things and events in the lives of real people. How often somebody tells me about a deep heart matter on Tuesday, and I see them on Thursday without asking a thing about it.

I pray my piano will forgive me. I pray you will, too — with all my Heart and Soul (I bet you recognize the audio).

Still a Lady

Ever wonder what it’s like inside an ant bed? Amazing!

Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.
Without having any chief, officer, or ruler,
she prepares her bread in summer and gathers her food in harvest.
How long will you lie there, O sluggard? When will you arise from your sleep?
A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest,
and poverty will come upon you like a robber, and want like an armed man.
Proverbs 6:6-11

Voids beg to be filled. Two examples:

1. Our oldest son joined our family by way of foster care when he was 4 1/2. For the next months, we watched the tug of war in his mind between the familiar (his birth mother and abusive father) and the current (my wife and me). We watched him wage war with angry outbursts and physical flailing.

My wife wisely saw that he could not give up the past until he found a present and future hope that was secure. By grace, a judge terminated his parents’ rights and separated him from his past. We adopted him on his 6th birthday.

From the first, he called me Daddy Mike — a name we agreed on to indicate my fatherly function and personal presence in his life. But it was a temporary title, one that could have been transferred to the next father figure. It simply gave him a place to hang his need for a father. I was a daddy; I became the Daddy. His void was filled.

2. My second son recently married a single mother. Her daughter called him Paul. But as the couple grew closer, and the three of them spent more time together, she yearned to address him by a fatherly title. Finally, when they were engaged, they let her do so. Instead of Paul, he became Pa.

In that moment, her identity changed. That which she innately hoped for was realized. She found a place to rest securely. Her void was filled.

Yearning for a father — it is a very real need and desire, a void to be filled. Like many things, it is a worldly picture of a spiritual truth. God made us to yearn for a heavenly Father.

Is it not enough that He would sacrifice His obedient Son to redeem us from my sin, then assign that Son’s righteousness to my account? That way I can enter His throne room to serve Him, and be spared His wrath reserved for the unrepentent.

Apparently not. Beyond redemption, God adopted me, bringing me as a son into His throne room to dine at His table, to indulge in His fellowship, to share in an inheritance.

Like all children (and especially the lost, the orphans, those with no known father at all), I yearned for a father.

God met my need temporarily on earth. But far more significantly, He has met my need permanently now and forever. I may rightly say, “Our Father, who art in heaven….”

Dear pastor,

When I asked you this morning whether we might use the worship center projector and screen to watch the upcoming Super Bowl, I was delighted to learn you were already intending to devote a sermon to the sport.

I want you to know that I became so excited that I immediately went into my attic and dusted off the helmet I wore during my memorable 5th grade football season at South Hills Elementary School. It still fits, as my head was much fuller of prideful thoughts in those days, which explains why I was so easily tackled (Proverbs 16:18b “…Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall”). Fortunately, the front of the mask is relatively open, which allows my nose to grow when I make too much of my current humility.

Sadly, it would be unbiblical to actually wear the helmet in the service. (1 Corinthians 11:7 “For a man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God, but woman is the glory of man.”) Therefore, If we can find five more in the congregation with helmets, I submit that we can reinforce your message by using them as offering plates. To truly make the most of it, I am thinking we could divide the ushers into two teams and see which raised the most money in, say, the last 2 minutes of the service. We will have to be careful, however, to avoid any rush by givers with second thoughts, who may wish to get their quarterback.

To keep pace with your message, I humbly suggest that we employ projection of a large stopwatch on our screen, which pauses each time you stop to take a breath. In the case that you do not spend enough time on your sentences, we will exercise some form of discipline, as scripture prescribes (Hbr 12:10a “For they disciplined us for a short time as it seemed best to them…”)

I’m sure you will close the sermon with a pastoral prayer, for which we shall bow our heads. If we can arrange for a referee to quietly move to the platform as you pray, we will see prophesy fulfilled as you say “Amen” and people resume their sitting postures: (Zechariah 2:1 “And I lifted my eyes and saw, and behold, a man with a measuring line in his hand!”

I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can find many other ways to bring a strong offense to our assembly.

Thanks so much for tackling a subject that is profound, challenging, and will undoubtedly fill our stadium with seekers.

Yours till the final whistle,

Mike

What’s the best middle name ever? I think this blogger hit the nail on the head (click here).

While you read, remember Jesus the Christ.

I am almost beside myself with giddiness tonight, as I resolved a max-nagging problem on a Web site today! For more than a year we have lived with a shopping cart that kept charging shipping on a product we wanted to ship for free. No more! Hooray for focused time and online chat support.

So, in CELEBRATION, I am giving myself permission to share this page, which was sent my way recently.

The page is furthermore significant because so many people are traveling to see Barack Obama’s inauguration. Security is prime concern, and security check points will be everywhere.

So, with no further adiue, I present this page of customer reviews for “The Playmobil Security Check Point.”

Until next time, be safe.

Good ideas rise on the shoulders of fair ideas. Great ideas rise from good ones.

A comment to my last post has inspired what I think is a great idea. You be the judge.

The comment said, “If only I could put this extra 30 pounds out on the curb…and wait for someone to take it away.” Meant in jest, perhaps, but — what if?

On a visit to Germany one year, we noticed tons of furniture and other goods in front of people’s houses. We were perplexed. But our hosts explained that on a certain day, people set out their unused goods for others to have. Anyone in the community was free to shop through other people’s castoffs. Junking Day, they called it.

Do you see the connection? We have people who have extra pounds. And the world is full of people who are underfed and need extra pounds. So what if we could post our pounds for exchange? “Free fat for all!” Upload 30, download 30. (Of course, somebody would try to commercialize the concept, and try to charge through Paypal. But that’s not the spirit of it, really. I’m thinking something more like the original Napster.)

That’s just the beginning. I also know people who lack the natural hormones required for growth. Oh, what they would give to be a few inches taller. I also know people who bump their heads on door frames because they are so tall. Like pounds, the world would benefit from a redistribution of inches.

In an ideal world, we would have a standard. Pounds or grams or stones? Inches or centimeters or hands? But I’ll leave the details to you. I’m a big-ideas guy. Which leads to the point of all this:

Big is not necessarily great. But all ideas start someplace.

Recently, I posted some thoughts on the pending conversion of all video signals to digital. This resulted in an overwhelming chorus of comments (tied for most comments ever on one of my posts), which told me I had struck a raw American nerve.

(Of course, the matter is more serious for some than others. For instance, evolutionists are predicting that, within only a few years, rabbits will no longer be able to hear — basing their prediction on the fact that rabbit ears receive only analog signals on today’s TVs.)

But what concerns me most is this: Listings in the “Free Stuff” section of Craigslist suggest that an increasing number of television sets are committing suicide. Looks for yourself. How else would you explain the number of suddenly-broken TVs that people are setting on their porches and curbs? For example:

* “Non-working 32″ TV. Not sure what is wrong with it. Just want it gone!” [Do you blame the set for giving out, when that's how the owner feels about it?]

* This TV needs a convergence control board. The picture is messed up (like curved and three d looking with the colors side by side).” [Wait a minute. I thought 3-D was the new thing for movies.]

* “36″ Mitisubish TV – It does work but colours are a little off. Maybe an easy fix if you have the skills. We used it for video games. Would work well for a kids DVD or VCR viewer too. Lots of inputs on the back. Cabinet is in nice shape. It’s sitting on the sidewalk in front of the house.” [I wonder how long the cabinet will be in nice shape, sitting out there on the sidewalk.]

* “TV won’t turn on – if you can fix it it is on my porch.” [Actually, I'm not sure if this means we can take it and fix it, or he'd like to have it back if we can fix it on his porch.]

* “TV does not power on. TV is very heavy, about 175 lbs. I will not be able to assist in moving the TV as I am only 7 months out of knee surgery and am not going to risk it. TV is on second floor apartment. Come get it please, can be picked up anytime after 7 PM any day this week.” [There's nothing like 7 months of knee surgery recovery to make you sick of Oprah, I suppose.]

* “Toshiba 48″ Rear Projection TV, no picture — NOW ON THE CURB.” [We actually had a TV like this stop working many years ago. We asked the repair guy, "How do we get rid of it?" He said, "Put it on the curb." Sure enough, next day somebody had already picked it up. Hope springs eternal.]

This hardly scratches the surface of the listings. I just thought you’d want to know.

If you’re in the market for a dead TV, there are some real bargains out there. Who knows? A blank screen may be preferable to what the live TVs are showing.

As if we did not have enough to worry about — global recession, the Holy Land at war, and a new administration based on “love means never having to say you’re sorry” — I learned today of yet another devastating challenge.

Close to 7 percent (7.75 million households) in the U.S. are not prepared for the digital broadcast conversion of television airwaves scheduled to take place Feb. 17.

According to published reports, this shortfall is so overwhelming that “officials with President-elect Barack Obama’s transition team asked last week to delay the conversion.”

I have not slept since I heard the news. Of course, I just read it a few minutes ago. But there are probably people who are so consumed with this issue they are not sleeping. Sadly, a group is likely forming up, soliciting funds, and creating grassroots efforts to postpone this grossly unfair moment when some TV sets go dead.

Never mind that even I have heard about the conversion multiple times for more than a year. Never mind that…

…contrary to common misperception, a household will not cease to function if the TV stops working.

I don’t mean this statement as a moral high ground, as some might. I simply mean that we have come to a sad state of affairs when the possibility of losing a TV signal rouses such unrest.

Let’s throw a fit. That’s what a kid would do if he were denied TV, even if he’d been warned for a year the moment was coming.

To paraphrase Marie Antoinette, “Let them eat Internet.”

Last night, Dad came into the hospital emergency room with chest pains.

When I needed to find the ER, I spotted somebody with an official-looking name badge. I assumed people with name badges would be from the hospital. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m a visitor, too.”

I wonder how often we rely on externals to identify people.

In the course of a half dozen hours in ER, Dad was interviewed by (at least) two nurses, a physicians assistant, ER doctor, and cardiologist. Each one sported some type of uniform: Scrubs, white jackets with names stitched on the front, name badge, etc. — always something distinctly medical.

Dad gave them free access to his mind (“When did the pains start?”) and his body (“Breathe in. Breathe out. Does it hurt when I press here?”). When they entered the room, we four family members parted like the Red Sea to let them pass through. We took our cue from their uniforms.

I wonder what people assume about me, based on my externals. Not only what I wear, but what I talk about and how I say it. How I treat people. How I respond to them. How they see me respond to others. Romans 13:14 says to “put on Christ.” Am I wearing the right uniform today?