How About A Goal Free January 2010?

I will tell you tomorrow why goals seldom work. If you have the courage, tune in! Happy New Year!

Dino

Tiger is a Hacker

I did not realize I had Tiger Woods on such a pedestal until he disappointed me. As a golfer I am quite a hacker (if you have ever spent nine with me, you know I am not overstating here). But I always admired golfers. I would drop almost anything, even a grandson, to watch Tiger play on T.V. His story was (is) so compelling. His dad, his unprecedented success, etc. He played with the greatest golfers in the world for years. No one has come close to matching his overall performance.

I don't know the history of the term hacker. I think it came from the sound effects of my golf game. If you play with real golfers or notice golf on T.V. you know it sounds different when they play. A sweet, whistling movement of wind, followed by a solid click happened when Tiger swung. When I swing it sounds and looks like I am clearing brush from a vacant lot with an axe.

The term hacker has never been used to describe Tiger. Yet today when it comes to playing life he is hacking his way down the fairway. Yep, Tiger is a hacker. But Tiger is not alone. The Bible is filled with stories of hackers. King David was a hacker. Wise King Solomon was a hacker. The woman at the well was a hacker. Wow, Tiger fits right in -- In fact if you find a church today that is really alive you will find a bunch of hackers who discovered Jesus Christ in the middle of their back swings.

Every time I read another confession from a woman in Tiger's past I feel ashamed and sad for him. I am sure they represent many more. The late Wilt Chamberlin, an NBA legend, claimed to have slept with 20,000 women. Probably a bit overstated by Wilt. He did seem more proud than ashamed.

I wonder how Tiger feels right now? I am sure he feels stupid for getting caught. There is a place of love and forgiveness for him (you too) if he wants it. I don't think the place is with Elin or most golfers on the PGA (except John Daily). The media has too much fun with this one to let it go. Tiger has no place to run to but a cross. A place for hackers.

What Scares Us About Tiger?

I feel like I always take the side of people who fail. Not because failures need my advocacy. Neither is it because I struggle deciding between right and wrong. People who fail give us a false sense of security. We really don't need that kind of security.

When other people fail it brings out the worst in us. I am talking about we religious people. We fail at a alarmingly similar rates as the irreligious or other religious. I am embarrassed. We don't have a flawed Gospel, or a erroneous Savior - but we are flawed and erroneous people. For every Tiger -- there is a Ted Haggard (metaphorically speaking). Why do we insist on using every moral debacle as an opportunity to validate we are right about something? Are we afraid deep down inside that we are not right? Does some Michael Jackson, Tiger Woods, Barney Madoff story give us a sense of relief about our own doubts and short comings?

The Pharisees from Bible days provide perspective beyond a huff, blow, and head shake. They were underrated you know. They lived a standard of righteousness beyond what we could do. Funny that we spend a lot of time feeling superior to them. Jesus accused the Pharisees of being empty. They felt superior to people like Tiger Woods. If they were living so well why did they feel the need to feel so superior? Jesus said it . . . because they were right on the outside but wrong on the inside.

Do you think Tiger wasted a lot of energy laughing a bad golfers? I doubt it. If Tiger needed affirmation he could look at his trophy case or most recent scorecard. He did not have to be entertained by me hacking my way down the 18th fairway at Oak Hills Golf Club in Columbia. Neither should I be entertained by him hacking at life. I should look at my own scorecard. That is where the analogy breaks down. I would rather look at his.

Our faith in Christ should make us moral people. Other people's failures, however, should never make us feel good about ourselves. Grace should make us patient and slow to enjoy the failures of others. Dave Crowder described it this way:

And we are His portion and He is our prize,

Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,

If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.

If I am drowning in grace then I don't have time to enjoy those who are not. Tiger is one step away from drowning in grace himself. Yes, the step is long, but with his credentials (as with all of us), he is out of options.

What a Year! Wrap Your Arms Around That!

Dec. 31, 2008 was the first day of our What a Year! year. Our second grandson was born. The year is ending with new thoughts about a Savior. Brock was the sixth live birth in our family. Every single birth was an invitation to a life-changing relationship - no Christmas would ever be the same.

As we prepared for Christmas 2009 my mind goes back to another live birth. Wait, hold on, not that one yet. A mere 50 years ago my parents had a new baby boy to add to the Christmas celebration. Six weeks old at the time, I was more than a baby. I was a new relationship for the next 50 years of their journey. A day would not go by that I would not at least cross their minds. The first 25 years there were plenty of long conversations. The last 25 not as many but always a thought.

Much has been said about the Savior, Christ the Lord. Although absolute truth slept in a manger when the Way, Truth, and Life came to earth, the ramifications move beyond. The Word became flesh also offered a new relationship. Jesus is Savior, but Jesus is also a new relationship. He is a God so big I can't wrap my brain around Him, yet He became so small that I could wrap my arms around Him. A God and a relationship in one. Awesome! Merry Christmas 2009 from the Senesi family.

Welcome?

A friend prompted me to search for Oregon signs. The old sign said something like, "Welcome to Oregon, unless you are from California." Since I spend a bunch of time in the church world it would be too easy for me to ask, "What does the welcome sign at your church say?" So, I am not.

Our default mode is to speak harshly about big picture stuff that is out of our control and probably not our responsibility. Maybe it would be like throwing a grenade at a safe distance. For example, I can get a chuckle out of a state border sign that according to Google Maps is 2,651 miles away from my front door. Yet when you read the story behind the sign there are perfectly good reasons people in Oregon might feel that way.

So, here is the bottom line. In my life today there is a great big welcome sign. Unfortunately there is a great big exception, or two, or three. The scary part? Most of the exceptions in my life I am totally blind to -- my nature is tribal. We all are that way I think, or most of us are. We love people who are just like us. We either pity (we confuse this with caring) or make fun of all the rest. So the challenge today is not to the state of Oregon. The challenge is to me first. Then I will toss a grenade your way. Don't worry if you don't need this. I did. Maybe you can toss it another direction if you didn't . . . 2,651 miles in another direction if you want . . .

White Knuckle Drunk - Observations from "The Swamp"

If you have any connection with the recovery community you probably have already heard the expression, "the white-knuckled drunk." I spent almost ten years in New Orleans deeply involved in the recovery community. I learned so much -- I need to put more of it in print.

I wondered, as I Twittered and Facebooked through "The Swamp" with my great friend Manley, if there was anyway I could connect sports with life. I understand that most of you don't quite have the "football love" that some of my friends and I do. BTW, for you, "The Swamp" is the home field of the Florida Gators. Florida's football success over the past four years may place them as the greatest college football team in history, or at least in the top five.

I went for friendship and the experience -- my team, the Tennessee Vols, were expected to be slaughtered by the powerful Gators. Long story short -- it did not happen as the whole world, including me, expected. The Gators won, but not by so much. But, unlike most Vol fans, I was not as inspired by the heart, courage, and resilience of my team. Don't get me wrong, those traits were all there and deserve a smattering of applause. I was proud.

The bottom line is to win. As optimistic fans we can always talk about being "on the verge," effort, and moral victories. I was there, I sat closer to the action than any other live college, pro, or high school game in my life. The Vols were much closer to being embarrassed like everyone predicted than winning. One more "no fumble" yard by Tim Tebow and the route would have been on. My team was battling way too hard not to come closer to win. The Vols will lose again this season. At least 5 more times -- probably more. Way too many white knuckles on the Big Orange sidelines. Way too many white knuckles on the field.

Now, the bridge -- My concern in The Swamp about my team, is my concern about me at times, and you. My team was working way too hard not to get better results. If there is not more than your best effort pushing you forward, although you may be coming close, you will collapse before you will ever win.

Hopefully, some personal application is coming to view for you here -- I want to think about it more before I try to be profound. I walked away more bothered than encouraged Saturday. But, the greater point -- I may be wrong about Vol football (I hope so) but I don't think I am wrong about life. My best effort alone at being smarter, better at relationships, more moral, more loving, less dysfunctional -- will only leave me with white knuckles and an eventual collapse. I need outside help. Let's talk more about that this week.

Leonardo da Vinci Senesi

A new dog will be moving into our house soon. The sworn limit of two, four-legged pets has been lifted. The girls are happy. I am questioning my resolve. We have already met Leonardo, and as you can tell, named him, etc. Leonardo is lucky, he was born in a good home (our friends, the Cockrells) and will move to a good home. Plenty of love to go around.

Reminded of the old story about an ad in the newspaper: Lost dog, walks with a limp, has the mange, one eye, answers to the name of Lucky. "Lucky" as the story goes, really was named correctly. Lucky was lucky because someone cared enough to look for him.

Michael Vick's dogs were not very lucky. As the story continues to be written, the gruesome nature of his crimes have come to light. Michael Vick was wrong and deserved punishment. Yet (thinking out loud) I feel so conflicted. I watch our confused culture continue punish a person for something he has already been punished for. If his mistakes were drugs, adultery, abortion, etc. he would have been forgiven years ago (if those would have been considered offensive in the first place) by the NFL and others. I am a Steve McNair fan, as a football player. But the sordid and tragic details of his lifestyle seemed to be only a small part of the story of this football hero.

Second chances are all relative, right? You deserve a second chance in direct proportion to how much I am repulsed (offended) by what you did the first time. I will think of dogs every time I see Michael Vick this season. I can't help it. I may hide Leonardo's eyes when he comes on the screen. Stitch does not watch T.V. (our other dog), he lives outdoors, so no protection needed there. But I will be reminded of second, third, and fourth chances I have received from God, my wife, my children, and my friends. I will remember (in spite of some cracker jack sermons) my tendency to be offended by the sins in others I have never committed, and not offended by the sins I have committed (and still do commit).

Will Michael Vick sin again? Yep, I'll bet he has. Will he abuse dogs again? Maybe. Our tendency to relapse is great. Will I be sorry I wrote this if he does? Nope, not at all. We have no hope but grace. Thank you Lord. I need some now.

Watch Me

Gary Sweeten is a friend. But even more than a friend, he is a gift to leaders in the body of Christ. He has been God's gift to me during good and bad times. I met him in Cincinnati over 10 years ago. Gary is a writer, counselor, and speaker. One of his latest articles, Crisis of Leadership, is dead on. Every leader and follower, anywhere, Christian or not needs to read this - http://sweetenlifesystems.com/page1135033.aspx

Take 10 minutes, read it slowly, don't skim it. Share the link with your friends.

How important is it? I have been thinking a lot about how Satan opposes Gospel influence by opposing leaders of the movement. You know someone who has been influenced. Bad choices, stupid choices -- we have all been there on some level and done that. It seems we are going through another bad stretch. Take your potential to ruin your life, family, and church, seriously today.

I am not a Christian t-shirt, bumper sticker guy - not that there is anything wrong with that. But I wear a Christian t-shirt every day, like it or not. There is a sticker on my car. My house has a sign in the front yard. My checks and return address have a fish. All of them say, This is How a Christian Lives, Watch Me.

I have tried to remove all those things, but it is too late. They all come back one way or the other. This how a Christian spends his money, treats his children and grandchildren, surfs the Internet, deals with other leaders, makes decisions, loves his wife, loves his neighbors, says hello, spends his free time, responds to disappointment . . . and on and on -

Weekend Blogitoral: Michael Jackson is in a Better Place

I was profoundly moved by the death of the King of Pop. Similar to Elvis only even more vivid for me, I grew up with Jackson. With the exception of a few 45's (Google that if you are under 40) I never spent much money on his music. Yet, in his prime, he was everywhere. You could not avoid his music and influence.

I am not on a which hunt. I am no more offended by Michael's life choices than God is offended by mine. What struck me unexpectedly through a radio interview last Thursday was a commentary from a friend of Jackson's. I do not know for sure who was being interviewed. Repeatedly in the interview, calmly and confidently, the person kept saying, Michael is in a better place.

In some ways this is a tough blog to write. I am thinking out loud here. I am not sure what I really want to say, and by no means do I want to come across as that guy. You know, the guy who has an agenda -- A vulture who jumps on the things people far from God say in order that I can look smarter than them. The arrogant and unChristian, I am right and everybody else is wrong, that keeps people far from God, far from God --

Yet, the confidence and calmness of the Michael is in a better place comment made me feel awkward inside. Did this friend know something about Michael that was not obvious through casual examination of the evidence? Maybe or maybe not.

Pop culture has a theology. In fact, everybody has a theology and a belief system. Everybody, however, really can't be right. I mean, will we say at Charles Manson's funeral, Charles is finally at peace? I don't think so. Did we say something similar about Mother Theresa? Probably. So, where does Michael Jackson fit on the scale? How about Elvis? Princess Di?

Ultimately only God knows if Michael is in a better place. But if he is, it is not by chance, it is by choice. At some point in Jackson's journey he would have responded to the invitation of Jesus, before his death.

However, why not begin with what we know. How about you? When you die, where will you go? What will others left behind say about your whereabouts? How can you find out more about life after death? No matter your belief system, most of humanity (not all) believe death is irreversible. Wherever Michael is, that is where he will be. His music will live here as long as there is a planet, but he is gone. Sad day.

Weekend Blogitorial: Accidental Father

I know the headline may put one thought in your mind about fatherhood. I borrowed the term from the 1988 movie called, The Accidental Tourist. At risk of being misunderstood, I can't help but to think of my dad, when I think of something that happened that was totally unintentional.

My dad was a great dad. He could do a seminar for young fathers if he were an intentional father. He never, to my knowledge, read a book, watched an instructional video, nor went to better father support groups. Don't invite him to teach your young fathers. I am not sure it will be all that compelling.

Some of us live our lives looking for seminar material. My dad lived his life doing what he was supposed to do. When it came to being a father, he was just good at it.

Of the things I admire most about my dad, the fact that he was just plain good at stuff without trying, was the most. He was the best man in my wedding. That was not accidental either. I wrote in his 2009 Father's Day card: To The Best Man I Ever Met.

Dino Sr. turned 77, Friday. My sister and I had breakfast with him at IHOP. I had coffee with him at 7:00 a.m. this morning before heading off to Louisville. Time with him now is like gold. Time with him is now intentional.

I have met many people over the years that grew up without good fathers, or without fathers at all. When my dad was 5 years old, his dad died (In Italy - Coal Miner's Asthma). Certain things in life are beyond my comprehension. I guess what I am saying is, Why Me? Why was I born the son of Dino Senesi, Sr.? Why did I have coffee with my dad this morning?

Maybe it would be better to say, I was the Accidental Son. Not because there was no human planning involved, there was. Only because I was so blessed and had nothing to do with it. I did not plan or deserve to be born to either of my parents. It just happened.

I think this is the time I am supposed to thank God for His amazing grace!

Monastic Retreats for Dummies IV - Like Water to Fish

So, enough suspense already (see Friday's cliff hanger). What kind of secret information was written on the tablets hidden within the chapel at Mepkin Abbey?

First let me give you the words of monastic hall of famer, Thomas Merton. I will tell you more about him later. His words were in a guest registry at the entrance of the chapel.

Let there always be quiet, dark churches in which people can take refuge . . . Houses of God, filled with His silent presence. There, even when they don't know how to pray at least they can be still and breath easily.

The subject of silence seems to twist and turn. What spiritual neurosis in me caused me to avoid the silence? What about the Bible? Real Christianity has lost a bit of its appeal in recent days. God tells us clearly through the Apostle Paul, "Be anxious for nothing," (Phil. 4.6). I end too many days with red hands from the consistent wringing and fretting.

Here is one quote on the easel, then I will begin to list the series of bullet points that I understood the most. You make application. I am in process.

Silence for a monk is like water to a fish.

Here are more random thoughts from the secret monastic locker room wall on the benefits of silence:

1. Sanctuary to receive God's word

2. Strengthen us in weakness

3. Openness to God

4. Settles me down

5. Leads to serenity

6. Gives reality and depth of God

7. Intimacy with Christ

8. Receive what God is offering in the moment

9. Fosters continual prayer

10. Keeps me aware of the needs of others.

More coming this week. This is not all that was on the sacred tablet at Mepkin Abbey. Let me know which one of these connect with you.

Weekend Blogitorial - Free Speech, David Letterman, Sarah Palin

I am a huge fan of television comedy. Since 1980, before David Letterman was cool, my sister, Debbie, and I have been Letterman groupies. I seldom watch Letterman now due to a different routine. I do keep up with an occasional Top 10 list and see him periodically. He made me laugh. Letterman, for me, was always good for a giggle while surfing.

Sometimes my bar should be higher on these guys. In the past I have conceded (maybe rationalized) the majority of "Letterman" types do not remotely value the things I do. I have never used that as a criteria to enjoy their entertainment.

David Letterman crossed my line recently. Not because I am out to defend Sarah Palin or her politics. Not because I believe Letterman should be censored. Sarah Palin's politics are much like mine, but I am not playing the liberal vs. conservative media slant. Maybe another day . . . but there is nothing new under the sun about that tired old rant. BTW, take a look at the comments on the National Organization for Women's Hall of Shame blog if you think conservatives are the only people who have noticed Letterman.

Letterman's blatant disrespect for Todd and Sarah Palin's children (June 8,9) gives me a window into his soul. I am not surprised or necessarily outraged by his comment about Sarah Palin's "slutty flight attendant look." That is, at least not for Sarah Palin. I have wondered how flight attendants might feel, however.

Bottom line for me - I am done with Letterman. He crossed a line when he made a sexual joke about a Yankee baseball player and Palin's under aged daughter. Yes, it was pointed at her older daughter, Bristol, but even then, not funny. Bad judgment. Deeply flawed thinking. Disregard for women, rape, children, healthy sexuality, and much more. Not funny.

I am sad, but sad mostly for Letterman. To add to the outrage was his arrogant attempt at a non-apology on June 10th. Here you see the "heart" behind all this. Essentially, he blamed the need for the non-apology on the Palin families' reaction to his humor. He made himself up as the victim in all this.

How does all this fit on the big picture? I will not write CBS or Letterman. I will not rant to people (with the exception of this blog). I will simply exercise my freedom and make a choice. He is free to say what he wants. I am free to be critical of his judgment and stop watching him. Simply put, if Letterman can make a choice, I can make a choice. So, I am. And you know what else? You and Letterman, are free to criticize my choice inspired by his choice. What a country!

Monastic Retreats for Dummies III - A Visit in the Monastic Locker Room

I felt like I was in a movie. My monastic IQ was pretty low as I drove on the grounds at Mepkin Abbey. A few things from church history class at Milligan College came back to mind. The name St. Benedict rung a bell. So, I wanted to get the back story here. I wanted to see up under the hood of monastic life.

On day 2 I hit that monastic jackpot. I was prowling, wait no, I was enjoying the chapel during non-prayer meeting hours. I started opening doors. You know, no harm intended. I walked into a side room off from the main chapel. I saw an easel pushed away in the corner of what looked like a classroom. Page after page of notes were scribbled on the easel pad. Private notes.

Looks like the abbot (head monk) needed to have a "come to Jesus" meeting with the monks. You mean, Baptist churches are not the only places that have those kind of meetings? What I found on the pages of the pad, on the easel, was gold to me.

The issue seemed to be that some of the monks were struggling with keeping their mouth shut. Okay, now it was starting to feel creepy Baptist. My struggle with keeping my mouth shut is one thing. My tribe's well documented talking issues are another. But . . . these guys . . . those who had given their lives to silence and solitude?

What I read on the proceeding 10-12 large, ruled pages, scribbled with a marker, was in a word, revolutionary. So revolutionary that I have decided to do my first cliff hanger blog in history.
See you Monday. In the mean time . . . keep your mouth shut.

Monastic Retreats for Dummies II - Silence Every Voice

I think my uncle was right. We need to be over matched to grow. Yet, people (my pastor, Bill Howard, told me this) have perfectly good reasons for doing what they do. I will never grow with the Lord if I avoid environments that make me feel awkward, silly, and inadequate. My sense of adequacy or even superiority freezes me in time. But they are so comfortable. They are so reassuring and dependable.

Why would I go on a retreat at Mempkin Abbey? I confessed earlier this week that solitude and personal retreats have never been a priority. I knew at this point I needed more. I needed deeper. I needed quiet. Yet the prospect was awkward.

Wayne Cordeiro 's book, Leading on Empty, was recommended to me in March. Perfect timing. In the midst of Wayne's valley he withdrew to a monastic retreat. As he unfolded the story, the following caught my attention:

During my time of solitude, I asked God to silence every voice but His own.

That was a hammer for me. All the voices in my head needed to stop. From Fox News to ESPN; to the Internet to the latest book; from the recorded voices throughout my lifetime; even from the dark side, Satan himself, something had to stop the voices. Thus, getting away from them was the only way.

The monks had committed their lives to silence. This particular order had gone contemporary. I hope they never contemplate taking abbey out of the name of Mepkin Abbey. I hope they never show a movie clip in vespers. But, for a few hours a day, while they worked, they could talk to each other. Don't know when and why they changed, but they did. For some reason. Essentially it came to around 12 on 12 off on the talking thing.

I wanted to ask them questions. I would have loved to interview one of them for my blog. But . . . no talky. Not many voices there on the Ashley River. Not many at all. Not any place for me to say: bed hard; food cold; or I quit. Just a place for all voices to stop. It took awhile, but I think it happened, except for one voice. More on silence coming.

Monastic Retreats for Dummies - Prayer, Solitude, and Silence for the Rest of Us

Mepkin Abbey turned out to be more significant than I thought. Don't get me wrong, the minute I pulled out of my driveway in West Columbia to drive that way, it was huge personal win.

I left two hours later than I should have. That was normal. Check-in at MA is 1-4 in the afternoon. I left around 1:45 but had two stops due north of my destinations so . . . I did not get there until about 4:20.

I already felt spiritually over matched. Around 22 monks live at Mepkin Abbey. Some are in their 80's and 90's. I am not sure if any of them have sinned very much. I mean, there was no internet, no cable t.v., or anything that might cause a person's mind/heart to steer off course. Here are guys, who have been at this prayer, silence, and solitude thingy for as long 65-70 years. Their first daily prayer meeting is at 3:20 a.m. Those who had not figured it out were long ago court marshaled or had faced a firing squad.

My beliefs about God are different than those guys at Mepkin Abbey. But to totally dismiss their experience with God because of the apparent theological flaws might cause me to miss something. I do believe in theological non-negotiables. However, my list has shrunk over the years. I confess.

So, the journey to M.A. began with a profuse apology to the monk in charge of check-in. The only thing that made me comfortable was his baldness. Little did I know that God had me right where He wanted me. Apologetic and spiritually over matched.

I remember what my Uncle Harold told me years ago. I was a highly motivated, sixth grade basketball player. "Always play with people that are better than you." That is a great principle in spiritual growth. I will talk to you more about why I shy away from Uncle Harold's advice tomorrow. Maybe you will see why you do too, if you do.

My World - Monastic Retreats for Dummies

Could it really be all about me? Tune in next week and follow my mystical journey to Mepkin Abbey www.mepkinabbey.org . Most of the experience was far too personal -- or could smell a bit self-promoting to tell the world about, yet there are parts you won't want to miss.

Feel no pressure of a "this is how spiritual I am" web log. In my years on the spirtual journey, this was the longest personal retreat by far (3 Days). My previous record was 24 hours, with an exhaustive list of cancellations. I don't think my experience at the abbey will intimidate.

I guess it might be best to call this "Monastic Retreats for Dummies" or "Silence, Prayer, and Solitude for the Rest of Us."

Top Ten Reasons Why I Twit . . . or Tweet.

10. Don't want to disappoint my 16 Followers. Sounds kind of cultic, huh? Not that there is anything wrong with that.

09. Burns Calories.

08. Demi and Austin Twits . . . or Tweets. Need I say more?

07. Dustin Willis does not Tweet. Deep down, since 2006 I have always dreamed of being CTD (Cooler than Dustin). I am living my dreams.

06. Improved thumb speed. Working toward Senior Thumb Olympics 2011.

05. It just seems like the right thing to do.

04. Mr. Culturally Relevant, Ed Stetzer introduced me to Twitter. He also tells me what to Tweet. Scary part . . . I obey him.

03. Going Green.

02. Come on Ma, Everyone else but Dustin is doing it.

01. My Siamese Cat, Lilly, can't read my Twits. Yes! Even though I have a sneaking suspicion she is smarter than me and runs my household behind my back, she does not have a cell phone and is not one of my followers (I don't think . . . ).

Other Peoples' Plates

What a great weekend in the Crescent City! Some of my dearest and closest friends -- where I spent over 16 years of my life . . .

Food is a big deal in New Orleans. No overstatement here. I have lived and traveled in quite a few places. Food is high on most lists list everywhere. So, there is food in New Orleans, and then there is food every place else. If they love you, they feed you in New Orleans. From chocolate covered pecans to stuffed grape leaves I had it all. I did not fall off the wagon, but I did sample a bunch of stuff.

As I thought back on the weekend a pattern emerged. Almost every meal I had, in public, someone with me gave me something off their plate. One meal, someone handed me their plate and ordered another one. We took sharing a meal together to another level. How did it feel? Well, I noticed it. That should tell you something. Over time it looked like a profound lesson, and then lessons.

My grace story has always been . . . getting something I did not deserve, that belonged to someone else, offered freely, with no strings attached. The pattern that emerged from the weekend became a great reminder to me of God. He has put me around people, amazing people, every step of the journey, more than I deserved. People have loved and cared for me, more than I deserved. He gave me a wife, children, grandchildren, son-in-law parents, sister, and more, that is far beyond what I have deserved.

I have been given opportunities to see, do, and serve - far beyond what I deserved. Almost like a great big heavenly plate being pushed over my plate, with a fork saying, here you go, have some! Awkward at times, unexpected, out of the blue, a little personal. How do I feel about it? Well, I am noticing it. That should tell you something.

Marley and Me - Level 10 Girl Movie

Notice I resisted the temptation to say, "Chick Flick." Although never knowing anything in my adult life but Girls 'r Us in my home, I don't think that gives me permission to politically insensitive. Can we agree on girl movie? Girl movies appeal to our feminine sides if we are boys. We all have one, right?. Of course, for the girls, those movies are just another feel good, sinus draining, tear inspiring movie.

Marley and Me seemed to do well at the box office. But when you watch a big yellow lab from birth to death of old age you know you are at level 10. I don't think there was a man part it it, except for the chaos and destruction caused by Marley (the dog named after Bob Marley).

"Journey" is what is in right now. I talk about the journey when I speak, coach, and write. New churches called "The Journey" are common place. I walked away from the DVD version of Marley and Me thinking instead of Marley being a part of the journey, that we were a part of Marley's journey.

As we watched Marley get put to sleep by the vet at the end, as the tears and mucus flowed freely, we all made certain discoveries. Marley meant no harm . . . in all the chaos and destruction he caused from birth. Marley was a good dog with bad habits. Even though he was declared by his owner, as the "world's worse dog," he was the hero of the story. Just another day in the life of Girls 'R Us . . . and the scene of just another . . . Level 10 Girl Movie.

I Love Coffee too Much to Risk Drinking a Bad Cup

I have been victimized by Consumer Reports Magazine. Whether the subject is washing machines, cars, or coffee, what they say goes in my book.

The headline of this blog is not original with me. The line is included in a coffee marketing campaign - Eight o' Clock. Consumer Reports concluded in last month's mag that for at home coffee, Eight o' Clock coffee is the best. Not Starbucks, not Dunkin' Donuts . . . Eight o' Clock. Wal-Mart or Target. Less than 4 bucks a bag. I was in before I drank my first cup.

Such a common thing in America these days . . . drinking a cup of coffee. At least 400 million times it will happen today. I have already had my first cup of Eight o' Clock at 6:49 a.m. I will likely have another before noon. I am doing my part to keep common stuff, like the wheels on the bus, moving round and round. Coffee is now the #1 adult beverage in American, passing soft drinks.

I am sure that something uncommon will happen today too, between cups of Eight o' Clock. I would hate to miss it. I don't want focus too much on the wheels . . . on the bus. I might be hypnotized into thinking it is just another day.

Manufacturing God vs. Discovering God

I work best under pressure. I have been standing on platforms and talking for God now for about 35 years. I confess I have had good days and bad days.

My friend, Craig Gilliam, from Shreveport, once gave me an article that described the pressure of the contemporary preacher/communicator. The article had a phrase in it to the effect, "The Old Testament prophets of God had the luxury of speaking only when they had a word from God. Today's preachers are required to stand up and speak weekly, no matter if they have a word from God or not."

How does it work for me? Never perfectly, let me assure you. Sometimes I consider the opportunity to process God out loud in front of people . . . whether it be a blog, an article, or a sermon, as a gift from God. I am an out loud processor. I look for God more and process Him better when I have to talk or write about Him. When I am in pain, going into a shell (my tendency) and disengaging is the worse possible option for me.

If you are not sure God is even there you may question the validity of out loud processing. But, to me, faith is not so shallow and contrived that we can talk off of pre-written scripts without some sort of tension. Answers to questions so large as Where did I come from? and Why does life happen this way? just do not fit on t-shirts and bumper stickers . . . not that there is anything wrong :) with t-shirts and bumper stickers. If God could be reduced to a plastic dashboard image then He would fit just about doggone anywhere. God is way too big for that.

God is discovered not manufactured. That makes things messy at times. For the out loud processor, God is often discovered in real time, either listening to or talking through issues. To the internal processor God is often discovered in a room alone, with a Bible, or an IPod, listening and seeking. Keep your eyes and ears open today. Resist the temptation to create God. Discover Him. The story is much better that way.

Orange Guppy Makes Senesi "Deadline" - Two Rails

I wish life always worked off the good script. Abby's orange guppy died within 14 days of purchase. We put "him" (died before we named him) in the freezer and traded him in on a new blue guppy that was actually alive. The transaction did not cost us a penny (except for travel expenses).

We often live with a situation comedy mindset. All of life's problems are really shallow and trivial in a situation comedy. Even then there should be a perfect, predictable rhythm to it. Happy. Crisis Introduced. Tension heightens. Crisis Solved. Happy.

My friend, Johnny Rumbough sent me a profound article from Rick Warren. In the article Warren addressed the rhythm of life:

I used to think that life was hills and valleys - you go through a dark time, then you got to the mountaintop, back and forth. I don't believe that anymore. Rather than life being hills and valleys,I believe that it's kind of like two rails on a railroad track, and at all times you have something good and something bad in your life. No matter how good things are in your life, there is always something bad that needs to be worked on.And no matter how bad things are in your life, there is always something good you can thank God for. You can focus on your purposes, or....... you can focus on your problems. If you focus on your problems, you're going into self-centeredness, "which is my problem, my issues, my pain." But one of the easiest ways to get rid of pain is to get your focus off yourself and onto God and others.

Problems vs. Purpose - I don't think Rick's observation is shallow or trivial. Do you? Few situations work like the orange guppy crisis. Most are much deeper and don't resolve so neatly. To me, that defines faith in our heavenly Father. We all have great faith when the orange guppy dies before the 14 day deadline. When the deadline passes real faith begins.

I Almost Quit Saturday

I am not a fast distance runner. I compete with few people except me. But the Lexington Race Against Hunger Saturday was a new challenge. I wondered, as my son-in-law David and I drove through hard rain on Saturday, Do they postpone races due to rain? Do the laws of baseball take effect? Unsafe playing surface, terrible playing conditions, bad for the fans . . . yada, yada, yada.

The runners ran in driving rain, 6.2 miles, up and down wet hills. The man in me could not walk away (because David drove). This was my first race since October. I was not in great shape.

The first 3 miles were labored but okay. Then, it happened, the 1000 lb. guerrilla jumped on my back. He has jumped me before, don't get me wrong. All 1000 lbs. hitched a ride this time. I wanted to walk so badly. Maybe not quit but walk. The muscles in my legs screamed for mercy.

Now, in honor of the late Paul Harvey, the rest of the story. David, would normally beat me by a mile in a competitive 10K. Literally, a mile . . . between 9 -10 minutes. In running, that is a long way. David, for some unknown reason came back and met me at the 3 mile mark. He escorted me, running along side, to the finish line. We ran identical crummy times. We laughed, I yelled at him, he waved me forward, I struggled.

Remember, I almost quit, but did not. Why? Because someone came back. I would not have noticed if he didn't. He could have run the race for himself. He probably should have. He would have been out of the rain 10 minutes earlier. He could have (as he often does) placed in his age bracket. He gave it up. I am not sure why, but I am glad he did. Because he did, he multiplied his effort.

Slow down for someone else today. Your bottom line results will be increased most likely. In the Saturday's race, David's results literally doubled. Many have done this for me over the years. I hope I have returned the favor, but could not possibly have done it as much. I run too many races for myself.

As Good As it Gets

My friends in Wisconsin and Ohio will get a giggle out of all this. We had a blizzard in S.C. last night. Less than 1/2 inch of snow fell. But . . . Anna and Abby had as much fun in less than 1/2 inch, as your kids have in a foot. I am not suggesting all things are relative. But maybe in some things, like snow, I am suggesting just that.

Heard three mission trip reports yesterday at Headquarters. Besides the great passion I felt from the leaders who went, I noticed that what makes someone happy in the jungles of Peru and in India is totally different than what makes people happy in West Columbia, S.C.

From the political front, Christians have a reputation for giving the glass is half empty spin on everything. Barack Obama is a win on two fronts. First, the involvement of the next generation in the political process is in a historic shift. Second, is the need to see people of different racial/ethnic backgrounds followed and trusted as leaders. The most under appreciated resource in grass roots America is Latino, Asian, and African background people. When they lead, we mistrust them, and seldom follow them like we would a white guy. We also pat ourselves on the back when we give them the smallest responsibilities. They know that, btw. MLK's dream is yet to be reality, but we are closer than ever.

My politics are different than Obama's. His politics scare me. Yet, so did John McCain's. Politics scare me. For the most part, with the exception of Mike Huckabee, they all were reading off of "get me elected" scripts.

Truth is local communities of people who profess to be Christ followers are responsible for becoming the change we wish to see. Not President Obama. Not Oprah. Not John McCain. No matter what your politics look like, President Barack Obama is as good as it gets. Let's pray for him and let him lead.

Resolute - Low Bars

By now some of our best intentions for 2009 could be gone. A low bar for you may be a high bar for me. So, among other things, I have two issues to address in this new year.

1) Stop drinking out of the milk jug. One of my dirty little secrets . . . My oldest daughter, Anna, busted me early this week for drinking out of the milk jug. I am not sure she can accept the fact that as a man, drinking out of the milk jug reflects my desire to save the environment. Think about the paper cups and glasses I am saving. My decision to swig could have a positive affect on our environment for 500 years. First person I ever saw do it was Granny Street over 45 years ago. She was way ahead of her time. But, family is more important so I will quit.

2) Start treating our cat, Lilly, better. Again, maybe a man thing. For someone who can't articulate all that well, she controls conversation and decisions in our lives. She is overweight and no one cares. She is lazy. She uses our new couch for a scratching post and no one cares. With no expectations, no accountability, I struggle a bit with that relationship. But, Lilly rules. I need to accept that fact. Besides, serial killers often mistreat animals in their early years. So, I try to pet Lilly once a day reflecting my desire not to be a serial killer. If I become one I know Lilly could be a early victim. Awkward? Yes but . . . it is getting easier.

A low bar for you may be a high bar for me. Maybe that is okay. You can advise and support me out of your strengths and experience. I can refuse to stay where I am. I can commit to new and better, whatever that means.

One reason we fail is that we think in leaps instead of baby steps. Losing 10% of you current weight is proven to make you healthier. Exercising 20 minutes a day, three days a week will matter. Spending 7 minutes with God, every day, if it is better than what you are doing now, will make a difference. So, move on. Set a goal. One you can reach. Pet the cat. Walk past that tempting . . . ummm . . . milk jug. You and those around you will enjoy the results!