As we think about fixing up our house to sell, repairs are uppermost in my mind. (Well, right behind Rebecca’s wedding in two weeks.) So Friday I was stunned to discover that our roof is leaking. I thought I’d fixed it last fall. This meant urgently finding a pot to catch the dripping water. I am sad.

Later Friday I was further stunned to find our detached carport roof is leaking. This meant frantically moving and repacking some boxes that were sitting there in the water. I am sad.

“When it rains it pours” is a common line that Morton Salt adopted as a slogan many years ago. It means their salt pours freely, even in high humidity (when salt tends to cling together and not pour). Their salt stands the test.

Today I’m calling the insurance company and perhaps a roofing company. I mean, how can you sell a house with two leaky roofs?

Did I mention that we also need to replace the fence? However, I spoke this morning with a dear friend who is arranging to come up and spearhead an effort to make fence-replacement a home project. My pocketbook and demeanor thank him.

“When it rains it pours.” From a Morton Salt perspective, that’s a good thing. It demonstrates our best qualities.

And when the storm clears, perhaps it even brings out our friends to be our rainbows — God’s promise that He will not overflood us beyond our capacities to survive by crying out to Him. I am happy.

We ate at Jason’s last night, where we saw they are turning off the dining room lights for an hour today. The promotion says it’s to help save the planet.

Get real.

Part of me hates the fact that people try to make it look like they’re making a massive effort, when turning off the dining room lights is symbolic at best. The real power-suckers are back in the cooking and dishwashing area. But that’s not my real beef. I understand marketing.

What gripes me is that the most ardent fans of “save the planet” are often hypocritical.

Let’s face it, nobody’s real agenda is to “save the planet.” If it were (and if they stood by their assertion that people are ruining the planet), the solution would be simple:

Kill all the people.

That said, I can think of three general reasons why people scream “save the planet.”

1. They mean “save the people.” A deteriorating planet is a threat to people — that is, “me.” Therefore, thwart the threat. It phrases nicely as “be good stewards of the environment,” but it’s ultimately man-centered. Actually, it’s me-centered. No planet, no me.

2. They mean “honor creation which is where god lives.” They have a low understanding of god, because they have made him up out of their own imaginations. Anything marvelous or infinite or unexplainable becomes god, so they want to deify it.

3. They mean “honor God’s creation.” They don’t mean “everything is a part of God,” but that “everything is a gift from God.” They recognize the planet is deteriorating, as is all creation spoiled by the fall. It is ultimately God-centered. Honor God’s relationship with His creation.

The first cause will fail. It is defensive, survivalist, and impermanent. It will fail for the same reason other man-centered causes fail. No matter how committed people may be to this “cause,” they are ultimately more committed to themselves.

The second cause will fail. The underlying belief system is invalid — based on the best a man can come up with. It prefers to be limited by the size of man’s mind, so is also man-centered. Ultimately, they mean worship creation, a false environment-god.

The third cause will triumph. It reaches beyond the temporary creation to the permanent Creator. When the planet in its present form is destroyed, the Creator (the “cause,”) will still be. When “every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,” He will find those who have done so even in their honoring of the environment.

Want to be a good steward of the planet? Do the real thing. Get real with the only reality, the real God.

You know the story. Pharisees try to trap Jesus by getting Him to say they should not support the Roman government by paying taxes. He asks for a coin, determines whose image is on it, and says to “render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” (Luke 20:25)

The star of the story seems to be the coin. It’s the part you give to “Caesar.”

That’s wrong.

The star is Jesus. And I forget too often that His point is not the part you render to Caesar, but the more important thing, the part you render to God — “the things that are God’s.”

All things are God’s. Even (as it turns out) the things that are Caesar’s. Because God’s image is embedded in every piece of His creation. He made even Caesar.

April 15 we are called to account for our rendering to Caesar.

But someday — on “the day that is called Today — we will be called to account for our rendering to God.

Caesar and Jesus both died. But only one rose from His death.

Render unto God the things that are God’s. April 15, 16, 17 and forever.

One year Sherry and I planted a garden. It fed a multitude — a multitude of squash bugs, tomato worms, etc.

So this Garden of Eden thing is hard for me to grasp. By faith, however, I believe God’s garden was better than mine.

Genesis 4 and 5 records the time between Adam and Noah. There we find two murders, plus a boring genealogy. We see who was born, and how long people lived (nearly a millennium in some cases).

But I think the lesson is this: All but one generational report ends with these words, “and he died.”

Stunning! With Cain’s murder of Abel, physical death exists for the first time. Then we find that death occurs not only by man’s immediate hand, but by the simple passage of time. Maybe we take this for granted today, because our experience tells us it’s inevitable.

There’s one exception. “Enoch walked with God, and he was not found, for God took him.” Nestled among all the natural deaths, we find one man who “walked with God” (as had Adam before the fall). We are left to conclude that God gave him something besides death.

This week, Christians historically confront the story of death head-on. Death… where God’s sustaining gift of animation is sucked out of a physical body, to be sent… where? Who knows, unless God tells us?

God does, in scripture and directly through the words of Jesus.

Jesus walked on earth with God in heaven. Jesus died — then He didn’t. Like Enoch, “he was not found.” The grave could not hold Him.

Because He did, we too may overcome spiritual death and see God as one who walked with Him, if we surrender our self-sufficiency to Him. It’s a tall order, one we cannot satisfy on our own. As God told Cain, “sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it.” Pride wants to hold us back.

But it need not.

“Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, he was buried, he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures” 1 Cor. 15:3-4.

He is risen! May this week be one whose truth rises and rules in our hearts as well.

As of last Friday, it takes two fingers to count my daughters who are engaged. Yes…

Kim is officially engaged to Mr. Kevin Lee.

I am not kidding. It is official. As you can see by the picture at their celebratory Red Lobster dinner, Kim has a ring and everything. (“Everything” is, in this case, a date — which is August 29.)

The proposal took place in late afternoon on a Corpus Christi beach, under the watchful eye of soaring seagulls and the applause of crashing waves. Kevin put one knee down in shallow water to ask for her hand. “Of course, I said ‘Yes,’ ” said Kim. “He knew I would. How could anybody be nervous about it when they know I’m going to say ‘Yes’?”

Wait a minute. A beach? In March? Well, providence provided a 90+ degree day. What can you say?

Mike got a text message picture soon thereafter, and Sherry further confirmation a bit later.

For Kevin’s mother, the news took a more roundabout route. True, Kevin called her personally, but he started out with a different story. “Mom,” he said, “it didn’t turn out quite like I planned. She said ‘No.’ ” His mother did just what mothers are supposed to do. She commiserated. Then he sprang the truth on her.

When they left here earlier today, they were on their way to stop by and visit his mother. At that point, we suspect she will do the other things mothers are supposed do to when their children make their hearts stop beating. She might kill him.

Kim and Kevin should have many bright days before them.

May the sea symbolize their marriage to come: Vast in its horizons, ceaseless in its opportunities, seasoned in its saltiness, and created for a purpose by its Maker.

See the Web site.

See the ads go.

Change, ads, change.

But change to something that makes sense, OK?

These ads are supposed to be “content-sensitive.” That is, the marvelous search engine ad servers read the Web page, do an instant analysis, and send an ad they think will appeal to a reader of that page.

It is truly remarkable that such a thing might happen. It’s doubly remarkable that it works so well, so often.

But once in a while there’s a hitch in the system. Witness this delightful ad, which appeared recently on one of the Fox News sites (yellow highlighting added):

Does that ad miss the mark, or what?

It lines up with the literal root of a word, but it misses the heart of the message. Badly.

I’m thinking that sounds familiar. It sounds like me.

Literally, I can do the right thing. My external behavior is picture-perfect. But my attitudes, my motives, even my when-you’re-not-looking behavior show up poorly. Inside, I’m missing the heart of the message. I’m on the right page, but I’m a pretender.

In Matthew 5, Jesus says the Pharisees are pretenders, too. They are teaching people how to be like this ad: “Line up with the right letters, in the right order, and you’re good to go.” But Jesus calls their bluff. Their say-so doesn’t make it so.

They have a page where they should be, but it’s not the one they’re on. It takes somebody outside our page to tell us that.

Christ knows toxic when He sees it. And He points out that we can only pretend to cleanse ourselves or our world. When it comes to toxic assets, we aren’t cleansers. We’re carriers.

When son Paul married Liz, her daughter Hannah gained a father. Mostly. To watch the family interact — to see Hannah regard Paul, and Paul regard Hannah — they were father-daughter in every way.

But under the surface, where the law reigns, the situation was different. Because he wasn’t Hannah’s biological father, his legal responsibilities were slightly tempered and his rights weren’t as absolute. As evidence, she still wore her previous last name.

All that changed Tuesday morning, when Paul’s adoption of Hannah was officially pronounced by the court. Under oath, Paul became her real father, accepting the irrevocable duties that come with that high office. As such, Hannah became especially chosen by Paul. She became his daughter and his legal heir. It was a marvelous occasion, followed by a justifiably marvelous celebration at Paul and Liz’s apartment!

When Hannah goes to school, or church, or just introduces herself to anybody anywhere (which she is rather prone to do), she will no longer need to explain why everybody in her family is named Branch but she. She is a Branch — marked with the name that confirms her membership in the family.

Of course, there is much to celebrate, simply in the merits of this moment. But also what a reminder of our own adoption as believers in Christ. In fact (and this should touch a believer’s heart), Jesus Himself was adopted, by one who played no role in His conception, Joseph.

In turn, we are adopted into God’s family. We have become His children. We hold an irrevocable promise as heirs.

Hannah’s adoption reminds me of that, so that the adoption process itself glorifies God. And my adoption by God brings new meaning to the precious process by which Hannah has been adopted — chosen and received by another person, whose love extends far beyond what she can even imagine at this point.

Congratulations, Hannah! Congratulations, Paul and Liz!

It’s a high calling, and worthy of your efforts. Rejoice and be glad!

When Paul ordered a new joke book through his school, he was eager to try it out.

“Hey, Dad,” he said. “Do you want to hear the joke about the mushroom?”

“Yeah!” chimed in Kim. “Tell him the joke about the mushroom!”

Paul turned to the right page and read, very deliberately, “What kind of room can nobody go into?”

OK, we’ll bite. What kind? Paul squealed with delight.

“A mushroom!”

So there you have it: The Mushroom Principle.

As our family gets larger, and the kids’ social lives get more complex, we look for ways to cope. The Mushroom Principle has become one way.

According to the Mushroom Principle, the punchline sometimes comes first.

If we don’t know why certain things happen the way they do — if they make no sense — then maybe they’re just the punchline to a story that’s unfolding. Sure enough, the biggest catastrophes often turn out to be the things we laugh about the hardest later on.
Right, Sherry?

Well, sometimes it’s much later.

(From our 1991 family newsletter. I think the Mushroom Principle still applies today, don’t you?)

When it comes to this world, I’d give God an F. Make that four F’s.

This morning, at the intersection between a night’s sleep and the morning’s waking, my mind began to turn over the immensity of God’s work in creation.

“In the beginning…” Wait a minute. Genesis begins with God’s foundation of a realm where He would eventually place man. But God had no beginning. He just started the story there because it’s what He chose to show us.

Before the beginning, God had a thought. More accurately, He had the fullness of the thing that we experience as only a shadow — the thing we would call a “thought.” (For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. Isaiah 55:8)

In the fullness of his thinking and imagination, God pictured the entirety of our universe perfectly, and He did so all at once. At least that’s the way I imagine a God-Who-Can-Do-All doing it. If it wasn’t that way, it was an even better way. He only does things the best way with the best outcomes. (And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. Gen 1:31)

Here’s something I hadn’t pondered before:

Not only did God create all the things we can discover, and all the things too big to know, and all the things so small they are forever hidden…

Not only did God create all things with infinite diversity and variety…

Not only did God create things physical, things spiritual, and even the idea that we could have an idea…

He created nothing without giving it a function. (The LORD has made everything for its purpose, even the wicked for the day of trouble. Proverbs 16:4)

Every single thing now — or in the past from the beginning, or in the future to the infinity of all being — bears a particular assignment from God, a purpose to fulfill. All of creation somehow cooperates with all other parts, even in its broken state. Beyond that, each thing bears an assignment common to all, to bring God glory. (Yours, O LORD, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the victory and the majesty, for all that is in the heavens and in the earth is yours. Yours is the kingdom, O LORD, and you are exalted as head above all. 1 Chronicles 29:11)

Just one example, rain. By His say-so, the water we can’t live without is distributed in a way so creative that only God could have imagined it. He moves it unevenly, creating extremes of environment so He can showcase an even broader variety of animate and inanimate being. Different terrains. It floats in pools. It cuts across the landscape to reveal wonders beneath the earth’s surface. In the storm, He shouts His presence. (Keep listening to the thunder of his voice and the rumbling that comes from his mouth. Job 37:2)

God’s mind saw it all in a flash.

Before the beginning, He saw function to all things.

Then He fashioned all things. In the beginning there was nothing, then there was something. His thing.

When all things rebelled, as He foreknew (He ordained it as part of their function), He made Himself to be their source of freedom.

And He did (does!) all things for the sake of celebrating the very highest good possible — His glory, His fame.

Four F’s, perfectly imagined and executed.

I used a camera in church today. (Please don’t ask. And I hope you ignored that big bang in the sound area at the back of the church.)

I left the camera on my seat for a while after church, and my wife later picked it up.

When I unloaded the pictures this evening, it was apparent that somebody had helped himself to the camera and intruded his likeness among my photographs.

Here’s where you come in. Can you help me determine who this is?

I am posting his photo below, in the form of a jigsaw puzzle. Click [Create Puzzle], and see how fast you can put him back together.

Then comment below. Who is this intruder?