The Paper Boy

        When I lived in Madagascar in the early 90’s news from the rest of the world was often hard to come by.  A couple times a week flights would come in from France and on those flights would be copies of the International Herald Tribune in English, that would make their way to the paper boys in the area of Antananareina. 

                  These guys would hawk papers and magazines to all the tourists and ex-pats who passed by that area of town each day.  Over time I got to know many of them, some of them very well.  One of them, Fidelis, would also hold a copy of the Tribune for me as they came in. Some days I would drive through that area and couldn’t even stop and he would just throw the paper in my car and I would pay him later.

                  Whenever I could I would just stop and talk with them, and became know to them as Monsieur Sport.   Often I would walk to Antananareina, and I as I did someone would recognize me and the word would spread up the street to the post office area and by the time I reach there, all the guys would be waiting for me.

                  These guys also became my protectors in some ways.  When I would bring my car to the area they would stay with it to keep it from being robbed.  They would help me find parking places.  When I walked down the street they would walk with me to keep the pickpockets and other thieves at bay.  They let it be known that I was okay, and in return I simply talked to them as children of God deserved to be talked to.

                  Before I left the country in 1995 I had a chance to take many of them to a basketball game at the national stadium with the Malagasy national team. I think I bought tickets for 20-25 of them.  As I left I tried to give them all things to say goodbye.   I gave my friend Fidelis clothes, t-shirts, warm-ups and many things.

                  A few years later in 1999 I returned to the country, and I remember walking down that street and hearing the voices “Tonga David”, “David is coming” and the moments of reunion and joy as I talked with this guys who were surviving on their few dollars a day, but who always treated me with honesty, friendship, respect and care.  That day I had a box of 90 copies of the book of poetry I had published a couple years earlier, and I gave it to them as something they could sell and make some money from.

                  Today, fourteen years later, I drove through the streets as we sought to go to a local hotel  to enjoy their incredible bakery.  As we circled the area a guy approached the car to sell me a paper or magazine and I looked, and it was my friend Fidelis.  He was much older (though still young in age, maybe in his mid-30’s) and life had not been easy to him it was plain to see.   Twenty years after I first met him he was in the same place, doing the same thing, for a few dollars a day to survive until the next.

                  I called him by name, and in that instant he recognized me. The smile on his face was huge, and covered the missing teeth.  In a moment he was running around the area trying to find a place for us to park.  Finally we did and as we got out of the car I introduced him to my wife and my children.  We talked for a moment and told him we were going to make a tour of the area to do some things.

                  He stayed right there with the car, watching and protecting as always.  We returned about an hour later.  There was another guy with him, who also remembered me and as I looked at his face, beaten by the years, I recognized his smile.  We talked quickly.  He told Jenny how he still had the clothes I had given him all those years before and that they were worn and beaten, but he had never forgotten what I had done for him.

                  He then told me about the others I had known then.  Guys who twenty  years ago were between the ages of 15 and 30 and who I had the honor to know and walk among, and he told me that some of them had died over the years and were no longer there.  Others, gone to who knows where. 

                  As I type these words I sit in the dark in a house in Madagascar, because the power is gone, while a huge storm rages outside, but in my eyes I still see the smiles of my friends.  Today, I cried for those who are gone.  Almost unknown to the world in which they walked, they made a huge difference for me.  In this darkness I see the smile of my friend Fidelis.  As I left him today I stuck 20,000 Malagasy ariary in his hand, not even, ten dollars.  Odds are I may never see him again.  I am so grateful I could today.

                  I understand and am reminded again that the people Jesus most liked to hang out with were the rejected of the earth, the tax collector, the prostitute, the horrible fishermen, the leper, the marginalized.  Today, for just a moment, I was reminded that every life matters, and I am grateful for my friend Fidelis.

Thanksgiving (from Madagascar)

                In 1863 in the midst of the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln and his secretary of state William H. Seward were talking in October.    Seward said, “They say, Mr. President, that we are stealing away the rights of the States.  So I have come today to advise you that there is another State right I think we ought to steal.”

                Lincoln looked at him and said, “Well Governor, what do you want to steal now?”   Seward replied “The right to name Thanksgiving day.”

                Until that point in time Thanksgiving had been celebrated at different times in different states, but that day Seward presented Lincoln with a proclamation that said invited all citizens of the United States to set aside the last Thursday of the November to give thanks to “our beneficent father.”  The proclamation also commended to  God’s care “all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers” and called on Him “to heal the wounds of the nation” and restore it to “peace, harmony, tranquility, and Union.”

(Doris Kearns Goodwin, Team of Rivals pages 577-578)

                And so was born Thanksgiving day as Americans have come to know it ever since.  So tonight, 150 years after the proclamation,  I sit in a house on the other side of the world, where we have not had water for most of the day the last few days, where we are cooking some of the world’s best tasting fries over charcoal fired cooking pots, and where we listen to the rain beat down, and I am reminded that all is a gift of “our beneficent father”.

                So my prayer is with each of you as Thanksgiving in America comes in a day or two.  May you know great blessing.  May your day be filled with joy. May your mourning be comforted.  May you find peace, harmony, and tranquility.

Intentional Parenting

            The new school year is upon us and as we go into it three questions come to the forefront for parents.

            > What are our goals for our children lives? (not what do we want them to    do, but rather, what do we want them to be)

            > What do we want our children to know about God, if anything?

            > How do we want to help our children grow this year?

            Recently I had lunch with a young man around seventeen who has some questions about life.  In the midst of the conversation he said to me, “I’m not really sure what the Bible says or what it means, but I sure would like to know.”

            This young man was not new to the church, he was there every Sunday since childhood.  He had participated in youth events, been on mission trips, and is generally viewed as a “good” kid.

            So, I delved deeper and I asked him, “As you were growing up and you talked with your parents about life and about God what did you learn from them?”

            He answered, “My parents never talked with me about God.  They took me to church, but they never discussed it with me.”

            I asked, “Did they ever pray with you.”

            “At meals,” was his answer.

            We have here a young man who grew up in a good family, was in church every week, had all his physical and emotional needs met, but at seventeen feels a bit lost and has no real sense of his own identity or the love of God in his life.

            As parents we get caught up in the world around us, in busyness, in our lives, and we forget that the schools, and friends, and teachers and coaches are spending more time with our children then we are.  Our window for influence is small and because of that we must be intentional in our parenting with our children.

            Over the course of the next ten months they will learn many things that will shape their future.  We, as parents, are called to be the caretakers of our children, to help them grow and become the people that God wants them to be, and the things that they learn in the days ahead will help determine who they will become, and most of the time, they will be learning from someone besides us.

                        We have the chance now – to shape our children as God would want, and it does not matter what age they are.  Yes, it is harder to get in when they are older.  We know we can shape the infant, but not always when they are teens because they have years of life built up.  But still, God can strengthen us to do so.

            Travis was a young man I knew years ago.  He died way too young at age 21, but he made a profound impact on people around him.  When I met he as a 16 year old he was an angry young man.  His dad had left him, his brothers and mothers for someone else, and had said to his face "I don't want anything else to do with you," and meant it.

            I had the joy of being in Travis life as he overcame this hurt, discovered how deeply God loved him, and spent his days sharing that love with others around him.  At his funeral his dad came to me, and said, “I really blew it with him, didn’t I”   He was looking for sympathy, and I looked him in the eyes, and said, “You did more damage than anyone could ever imagine to your son by not being a father to him, and yet he was healed by the love of God.  Just think who he would have been had you loved him like you should have, and here’s the thing, you still have that chance with two other boys”

            He walked away.  He never took advantage of his opportunity.

            Let’s look down the road to ages 18 or 22, or 25,   What kind of people do we want our children to be?

            Do we want them to be independent?

            Do we want them to have a great compassion for the world around them?

            Do we want them to give back generously from what God has blessed them with?

            Do we want them to be equipped with knowledge and vocational skills?

            Do we want them to have a hope and faith in God?

            Do we want them to be able to give an answer for the faith we have?

            If we want these things for our children, then we must teach and model them and the time to start is now.  Some day we are going to send them out on their own.  That day is going to come sooner than we think.  It will be here in a blink of an eye. I just looked around and my daughter is 8 years old, my son will be six soon.  A week ago he had all his baby teeth, they went to see my parents, one tooth is gone, a new one is coming in, and a second one is about to fall out. 

            Before I know it they will be living on their own, and I have dreams and visions for their lives, not in what they will do, but in who they will be, and my time for teaching them grows shorter everyday.

            So let us begin today.  Let us intentionally parent our children so that they may become all that God is calling them to be.

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

New Hope Church
July 14, 2013

Hallowed Be Thy Name

June 30, 2013
New Hope Church

ALIVE - Living Right

April 28, 2013 at New Hope Church
1 Peter 3:8-22

ALIVE - Living Witnesses (Part Two)

April 21, 2013 at New Hope Church
1 Peter 2:11 - 3:7

ALIVE - Living Witnesses (Part One)

April 21, 2013 at New Hope Church
1 Peter 2:11 - 3:7

COLLIDE: GOD, Isaiah 6:1-8

Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty,
Who was, and is, and is to come.

COLLIDE:PRAYER, The Story of Hannah, 1 Samuel 1:1-18

Presented at New Hope Church on February 10, 2013

Fame - A Child's Perspective

        The whole thing started on a whim, really. I had no idea that I was going to get to spend a day as a theatre mom.  Well, spend a day as a theatre dad amongst a hundred plus theatre moms I mean.  Above all I had no idea that once again I would be the one to learn the big lesson, and that I would learn it from my own child.
                A week or so ago.  I ran across a newspaper blurb that said that Beef and Boards was holding open auditions for the part of the Von Trapp family children for an upcoming production of The Sound of Music.   My daughter, Mia, has watched that movie more times than one can imagine in the last year, and knows the stories and characters inside out, so I asked her, "Mia, would you like to audition for a role in the production."
                As we talked about it I explained that it would be highly unlikely that she would get a role.  I told her that there would be hundreds of kids auditioning, many whom by age five, six and seven, would have more theatre experience, vocal training, and dance training than ten other people she knows would have combined in their entire lives.  I talked with her about the process, and how after an initial audition there would be a call back for finalists and then someone would be chosen.  My goal was for her just to have the experience and we understood that a call back was unlikely, and that on the million to one chance she got offered a part we probably wouldn't take it because 56 performances in seven weeks might be a little more than would be healthy to do.
                Mia thought about it for a couple days and then on Monday told me, "Okay, Daddy, I'd like to audition for the role. I know I won't get a call back or a part, but I'd just like to try."
                We still had to wait a couple days to see if we had an audition time and finally on Wednesday we got an email that we had an audition time on Saturday at 10:20, just a mere fifty minute drive from home. On Thursday and Friday I found myself trying to come up with reasons not to go, and at the same time I wanted my child to have the experience. Finally on Friday we decided that since the auditions were the next day, and it was a musical audition first and foremost we better pick a song to practice.  Mia sang through a bunch of things she knew and she picked Fairest Lord Jesus as her audition song.  I then played the melody for her from her piano song book a few times to help her prepare.  It is important to understand that there are four people in this house who play a little piano.  My five year old is pretty good, Mia is not bad, Jenny can play a little, and I am pretty dangerous with my one-fingered melody line interpretations.
                The rest of her preparation consisted of her laying in bed on Saturday morning singing hymns with her mother.  At our church, during worship times, we sing a lot of contemporary songs and choruses, but in our home, the songs of choice are hymns that have stood the tests of times, and hold within them words of theology and comfort.
                We arrived on time for the audition, along with hundreds of other people.  We brought in our snapshot of Mia in front of a Christmas tree for a head shot, and carried our little book of Hymns for piano. We watched as girl after girl came in with their full page resumes, their professional eight by ten photos, and their large books of "show tunes for auditions for children" and the like.  We sat in our corner and listened to conversations from experience theatre moms.  We heard countless stories of "Remember when we did this production?" or, "You were so good in the little mermaid," and the like.
                After a while Mia was on deck and we moved into the hold room with just one other girl, and a photographer from the Indianapolis Star who was doing a story on the auditions. The girl in front of Mia entered the audition room, and Mia moved up next to the door and I stepped out of the room.  Mia had told me before, when we heard about the paper being there, that she wasn't interested in being in the paper.  I saw him take a couple pictures of her before she went in to audition.
                The audition was short.  Just a couple minutes, and she came over to me and said, "Okay, Daddy, I'm done."  I noticed she had a piece of gold paper in her hand, and then she said, "Oh, and I have a call back at 4:00."  I looked at the paper and it was like the gold ticket from American Idol.  I just wanted to shout, "We're going to Hollywood."  At that time the reporter came over and asked for her name, and I said, "No thank you. She doesn't want to be in the paper."  He kept trying to convince me and I said know.  He wanted to show use the picture but we didn't want to look.  As we got out of the building we talked about it and went back in to look at the picture.  It was fabulous of her studying her song before she auditioned.  He told me it was his best and favorite picture of the day and would be using it if we would let him. 
                I left the decision up to Mia, and she talked with him for a moment, and kept saying, "No thank you" to him.  I finally told him, "It's her decision, and I'm going to respect her."  He told me I should be proud of her for her audition and for her politeness, not many kids would turn down a chance to be in the paper.  I thanked him and we went to the car.
                In all, over 151 girls auditioned for one of the five girl parts in the production, and about thirty-five got call backs.  (The call-back story is for another time).  My untrained daughter whose father took her on a whim made the cut for this professional production. But, I am proud of her more for something she taught me in the car after it all was over as we drove home to prepare for the call back.
                I asked her, "Mia, you are sure you don't want to be in the paper?  We can still go back."
                She answered me, "Daddy, I don't want to be famous.  I didn't go and sing today so I could have fame. I sang because Jesus lets me sing, and I just wanted to sing for him."
                Now, we all know that men don't cry, but if men did, that sure would be a good moment to do so.  The road was a little hard to see for a moment. All of us who are parents often question what we are doing right and wrong in our children's lives.  In a society that is all about self, about personal happiness, personal success, me, me, me, it can be a challenge to raise a child to see the bigger picture of life.  As a coach I talk often about using God-given gifts to their fullest and less about winning.
                In one moment in my car on Saturday I realized that my daughter understood something very important, that matters more than personal fame ever could.  It wasn't about her being recognized by others. The motivation was simply her taking what God had given her, doing her best with it on that day, and offering it back to him. Nothing more than that.  Definitely nothing less than that.
                My first day as a theatre mom was a good one.  I wish I had a copy of that picture

Character

   

Growing up I often heard it said that sports builds character.  A few years ago I came to realize that was not true. 
         The more I was around organized and competitive sports the more I came to believe that sports does not build character, rather, sports reveal character.

Character is built in our homes, our families, our churches, our day-to-day interaction with our children.  If sports truly built character, then it would seem to make sense that the more success one had at sports the more quality character a person would have.

Yet I look at the history of a Ray Lewis, the devastation of the acts of Oscar Pistorius, or the sideline rantings of brothers coaching opposing teams in a Super Bowl, and I just think, that is not what I want my children to be.

I think about the arrests of SEC athletes, or the athletic scandals of ACC athletes or the complete moral failures of Big Ten programs, and I realize that sport is not something that builds character.

Does this mean that I believe that sports destroy character?  Not at all.  I think it can be a great proving ground for character and integrity.  The two athletes pictured above with my daughter are great examples of strong character.  They are Godly women, who achieved academic and athletic success, and led their school to a national championship.

Their characters were forged in the fires of their families.  Their honesty, integrity, determination, drive, and confidence started with Godly parents who loved, taught and cherished them. Athletic competition enabled them to display and refine qualities that were instilled in them by their parents.

I write these words to remind all of us as parents that we are responsible more than anyone for shaping who are children will become.  We are responsible for them mind, body and soul.

If we try to pass off that responsibility to coaches, or to schools, or to any other person, we are cheating ourselves and our children of a valuable life experience.

We are responsible for praying for our children.  We are responsible for their understanding of what to do with their God given abilities.  We are responsible for the nourishment of their bodies, of their mind, and of their spirits.

Our window of responsibility is a short one.  One day they will leave us and their character will be put to test in the fires of the real world.  Their success or failure, not as athletes, but as people, is intricately tied to what we do with them and for them now.

           As a parent I understand how hard that path is.  I pray that God will give us all the patience and wisdom and strength that we need, so that our children may become all that they are intended to be.

Will You Pray at Us?

This piece was first written in 1995, situations in the Sudan have changed, and south Sudan is now a nation.  The persecution of Christians has not changed.

WILL YOU PRAY AT US?

I pray for them.  I am not praying for the world, but those

you have give me,  for they are yours.

John 17:9

     They were Sudanese Christians.  The country is rated one of the worst violators of human rights in the world and I wouldn't dare mention their names here, but I had the opportunity to meet them at an athletic competition in another country.  I did not want to meet them.  I had just received news from home that a friend had died and I just wanted to be alone.  The last concern, the last desire on my heart was to reach out to someone else, I was busy being wrapped up in my own grief.

     Fred persisted.  He made the contact.  He got to know the whole group.  Finally I had the opportunity to spend the afternoon with them.  We ate together and we watched a video of a basketball game, and then the two who were Christians invited us into their room before they left to return to their country.  When the one looked at us and said, "Will you pray at us?"  I almost cried right there. 

     They told us the needs they had.  One had been married only seven months. Both were extremely worried about their families and the religious persecution they were facing at home.  They told us how friends seemed to disappear everyday.  They had a little security because they were athletes and affiliated with the military, but if it wasn't for that they did not know what would happen to them.  Militant Islamic forces are still waging war against the people from southern Sudan where these men are from.

     When they finished telling their stories we began to pray.  I prayed for one, Fred the other, and not only did we pray for them, we prayed at them, we threw our hearts and souls into the battle.  We realized that our time with them was brief, that we would soon be separated.  We also realized that God had put them in our lives at that particular time for us to encourage as they returned to face the struggle ahead.

     Jesus knew he was about to be separated from his disciples as he prayed in the garden.  The prayer he prayed is recorded in the seventeenth chapter of John.  An interesting thing is that he did not pray a general prayer, "Please keep them all safe."  Rather, he said, "I pray for them.  I am not praying for the world, but for those you have given me, for they are yours." 

     Jesus said, in essence, let me get straight to the point, let me pray directly at the subject at hand - not everyone, but these you have given to me.  He prayed for just a few men, the ones in his life, realizing that they were part of the great plan, the Father's plan.  Luke goes so far as to tell as that as Jesus prayed in the garden he shed great drops of blood.  We need to learn from the master how to pray at the people He has put in our life.  We need to move away from the generic, "God bless everyone" prayers, to Christ-like, "God hold this my sister or this my brother" prayers.  We need to be specific in who we pray at.

     Thank God he gave us the chance to pray at our Sudanese brothers. We prayed at them to encourage them, to remind them that Jesus died and lives for all men.  We prayed at them to remind them that they had brothers in other parts of the world who held them in their hearts.  As we drove away from their hotel the last image we had was of the rest of the team going through their Muslim prayer ritual, prostrating themselves and praying toward Mecca.  These men returned to a land where they will be persecuted for their faith.  We fervently pray that we will hear from them again, but they could be gone in no time.

     Who do you pray at?

More Than Winning

      I was looking at my championship rings the other day.  You can see my favorite one. 
     I've been blessed to coach some incredible athletes in my time, have won some conference championships and some international gold medals.  Despite this success, winning has never been a priority for me. Most people are surprised when I tell them that I really don't care about winning, but the truth is, I don't.
   Winning is an artificial measure of success that is often trumpeted by our society, but as I've been involved in athletics for over three decades I've come to understand that winning is not the true measure of success. 
    A good friend of mine who played in the major leagues for years told me once, "In sports you'll always be better than someone, and there will always be someone better than you. You can't let the final score determine whether you were successful or not."
     He's right.  The true measure of success is not in what the final score is.   The true measure of success is in what you have done with the gifts God has given you. 
     John Wooden, easily the greatest basketball coach ever, simply said that "Winning is knowing that on any given night you have done the best you can that night with the skills God has given you."

      Earlier this year I had the opportunity to start a new organization called Grove Volley.  Our tagline is "Training for Success".  Grove Volley grew out of a need in our community here in Greenwood for quality training of athletes in the sport of volleyball.  We particularly identified a gap for girls ages 8-14, and wanted to fill that gap.  One of the reason I wanted to be involved with Grove Volley was to help athletes and parents train for real success, regardless of what the final score on the scoreboard is. 

     When we see skills improve, and new players fall in love with the game and develop some skills, That is success.   When we see average players become good and good players become better players, that is success.  When we see excellent players become better and become leaders who push others to excellence, that is success.  When an athlete maximizes their God-given ability they have been successful.  
      When a team bonds together and maximizes their capabilities, they have been successful.
     God calls us to do the most we can with the gifts and talents he has given us.  In being part of Grove Volley we have a commitment to excellence that goes beyond any scoreboard.  I'm excited about this part of my life.   

Christmas Eve 2012

Time to Blog Again

      It's time to blog again!   So much has been going on since I last came to this page.  From the move to Indiana, to ministry at New Hope Church, to the foundation of Grove Volley, life has been busy.  The gifts of God have been incredible and there is much to write about and talk about, and so DrDaddyB's blogspot is coming back on line.  I look forward to journeying with you and hearing from you.