In the midst of a mission doomed to failure, I ran into Momo (see here and here).
I was tracking down the fair mother city's most infamous homeless couple, the Reverend Jack and Annie. Jack is a drunken street preacher. Annie has followed him for at least 7 years. I was ordered to deliver wrapped gifts to them from another entity. After some phone calls I learn Rev Jack is in jail. Who knows where Annie is.
And to my delight, Momo gave ME three small gifts each wrapped in newspaper, one for each member of my family. I look forward to christmas morning to see what they are.
Who said Christmas has to be about consumerism, malls, credit debt and family disfunction?
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
and on this day 7 years ago...
Agent Wife & I were married.
On that artic day in Saskatchewan in 1998, we had no idea what the CEO would do with our lives. That plan was slowly revealed four months later...and still unfolding.
It's been a great 7 years.
On that artic day in Saskatchewan in 1998, we had no idea what the CEO would do with our lives. That plan was slowly revealed four months later...and still unfolding.
It's been a great 7 years.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
file this under R (for "random")
*a gentle nod towards Gentry and his "Captain Random" posts*
1) I met with Agent S (aka the librarian) for breakfast last Friday. We joined together to toss ideas back and forth about possibly setting up some kind of shelter-type ministry. The fair mother city could physically use another shelter. The Salvation Army has been the only one available for years. We discussed the model used in Nashville called "A Room at the Inn", which is run by various churches across that city. I'm OK with most any model, as long as it's "relational based" versus "just meeting the need" or "yay us...look what we do for the poor". And, therefore, I am very cynical when it comes to churches in the mother city coming together for the common purpose of serving the poor...especially for a concerning relations with the poor. A relational-based model in ministry to the poor has no room for a sterile, "physical needs only" mentality nor is there room for media induced ego. Maybe the CEO put S in my life to cure my cynicism in the church. Which reminds me of a quote a heard today: "I love Jesus, but I can't stand his wife". HA.
2) I love December because of the quality of mail that arrives. Christmas cards rock. Instead of junk mail and credit card applications (which always earn a date with the shredder), we get personal notes and photographs. Which reminds me...sorry to you friends who usually receive cards from us every year. You won't get one this time. We're too broke and poor to justify the postage all for an ego stroking photo of us for your fridge. No christmas for anyone this year. But please, keep your cards coming to us. HA.
But in the midst of holiday cards (I meant that...don't fight me on the use of the word "holiday") we have also received some missionary support propaganda. I can't necessarily criticize this method of financial security because I use to indulge in it myself. You know, send letters, advertise what you "do for the Lord", diplomatically ask for money, etc. Now days, fund seekers send:
-cool trendy marketing brochures, thanks to new home computer programs
-fancy portraits for your fridge! (that's what christmas cards are for)
-hip newsletters to let you know the wacky day to day antics of said missionary family, complete with kids corner, web address, etc.
I cannot criticize this. How do I know what the CEO told them about funding themselves. But this flies in the face of the George Muller biography I'm slowly devouring.
3) Everywhere I turn, someone is talking about U2 and Bono. So now I want to get this new CD. Really bad. I haven't listened to U2 since Rattle-n-Hum (1989?). I never disliked them. I think you have to be a lyric kind of music lover to really appreciate them, and historically, as an instrumentalist, I always listened to the instrumental part of music.
4) We are traveling to Houston again. We will be there for a few days between Christmas & New Years. I originally thought I'd escape having to take another trip home. But now that I'm a parent, I realize this kind of thing means a big deal to mom. I need to get out of my selfish, isolated universe. I'm planning on enjoying Houston this time around.
1) I met with Agent S (aka the librarian) for breakfast last Friday. We joined together to toss ideas back and forth about possibly setting up some kind of shelter-type ministry. The fair mother city could physically use another shelter. The Salvation Army has been the only one available for years. We discussed the model used in Nashville called "A Room at the Inn", which is run by various churches across that city. I'm OK with most any model, as long as it's "relational based" versus "just meeting the need" or "yay us...look what we do for the poor". And, therefore, I am very cynical when it comes to churches in the mother city coming together for the common purpose of serving the poor...especially for a concerning relations with the poor. A relational-based model in ministry to the poor has no room for a sterile, "physical needs only" mentality nor is there room for media induced ego. Maybe the CEO put S in my life to cure my cynicism in the church. Which reminds me of a quote a heard today: "I love Jesus, but I can't stand his wife". HA.
2) I love December because of the quality of mail that arrives. Christmas cards rock. Instead of junk mail and credit card applications (which always earn a date with the shredder), we get personal notes and photographs. Which reminds me...sorry to you friends who usually receive cards from us every year. You won't get one this time. We're too broke and poor to justify the postage all for an ego stroking photo of us for your fridge. No christmas for anyone this year. But please, keep your cards coming to us. HA.
But in the midst of holiday cards (I meant that...don't fight me on the use of the word "holiday") we have also received some missionary support propaganda. I can't necessarily criticize this method of financial security because I use to indulge in it myself. You know, send letters, advertise what you "do for the Lord", diplomatically ask for money, etc. Now days, fund seekers send:
-cool trendy marketing brochures, thanks to new home computer programs
-fancy portraits for your fridge! (that's what christmas cards are for)
-hip newsletters to let you know the wacky day to day antics of said missionary family, complete with kids corner, web address, etc.
I cannot criticize this. How do I know what the CEO told them about funding themselves. But this flies in the face of the George Muller biography I'm slowly devouring.
3) Everywhere I turn, someone is talking about U2 and Bono. So now I want to get this new CD. Really bad. I haven't listened to U2 since Rattle-n-Hum (1989?). I never disliked them. I think you have to be a lyric kind of music lover to really appreciate them, and historically, as an instrumentalist, I always listened to the instrumental part of music.
4) We are traveling to Houston again. We will be there for a few days between Christmas & New Years. I originally thought I'd escape having to take another trip home. But now that I'm a parent, I realize this kind of thing means a big deal to mom. I need to get out of my selfish, isolated universe. I'm planning on enjoying Houston this time around.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Open letter: To all "financiers of the kingdom"
There are many followers of Jesus in this day and age who are convinced that the CEO has called them to "finance the kingdom". They can be anyone from joe-blow book store employee who supports a mission work monthly, to those with a "Joseph/Daniel" calling , as in - someone of supreme influence within the financial or political realm.
Financing the kingdom is very much a different calling from a guy like me, who is called to be a street-level, get-yer-hands-dirty, undercover agent. Although, if I had access to serious financial jack, I suppose I could do both. But spending my time chasing after finances takes away from my time on the ground level "doing the stuff". So I guess doing both wouldn't be feasible.
As an agent, I've been on the receiving end of these "kingdom funders" several times. And this is not necessarily a 'good thing'. Thus, my open letter:
Financing the kingdom is very much a different calling from a guy like me, who is called to be a street-level, get-yer-hands-dirty, undercover agent. Although, if I had access to serious financial jack, I suppose I could do both. But spending my time chasing after finances takes away from my time on the ground level "doing the stuff". So I guess doing both wouldn't be feasible.
As an agent, I've been on the receiving end of these "kingdom funders" several times. And this is not necessarily a 'good thing'. Thus, my open letter:
To all who are called to (or contemplating) "financing the kingdom":
First of all, thank you for being willing to use your gifts of money-making to finance "the kingdom". That is very generous of you. Everyone has a gift and/or talent, plus sometimes it just takes physical resources (ie: greenbacks) to make some things happen. So without you, who knows what wouldn't get done. If making money is your true, God-given talent (and God knows it ain't MY talent), then by all means, go do what you do...and do it well.
Which brings me to my primary point. If your talent and calling is making money to fund kingdom initiatives, supporting missionaries, or relieving poverty, etc, then why the hell do you get in my way by trying to call all the shots?!?
Money is a powerful tool and it gives people (ie: YOU) the ability, if not, desire to control others. Example: you sit on the advisory boards of the ministries you fund. That's a conflict of interests in my book. We agents and ground troops DO NOT need financial carrots dangled in front of us. We agents and ground troops DO NOT need to be told WHAT to do or HOW to do it. The CEO of the universe gives us instructions. Your money and influence will NO LONGER control us. The CEO can provide for us with different means, I'm sure.
Do not create any more obstacle courses for us or hoops to jump through. If you are called to raise money to give, than RAISE MONEY TO GIVE. Otherwise, get the hell out of our way and shut your arrogant asses.
Signed,
Agent B
(on behalf of all the CEO's agents world wide)
First of all, thank you for being willing to use your gifts of money-making to finance "the kingdom". That is very generous of you. Everyone has a gift and/or talent, plus sometimes it just takes physical resources (ie: greenbacks) to make some things happen. So without you, who knows what wouldn't get done. If making money is your true, God-given talent (and God knows it ain't MY talent), then by all means, go do what you do...and do it well.
Which brings me to my primary point. If your talent and calling is making money to fund kingdom initiatives, supporting missionaries, or relieving poverty, etc, then why the hell do you get in my way by trying to call all the shots?!?
Money is a powerful tool and it gives people (ie: YOU) the ability, if not, desire to control others. Example: you sit on the advisory boards of the ministries you fund. That's a conflict of interests in my book. We agents and ground troops DO NOT need financial carrots dangled in front of us. We agents and ground troops DO NOT need to be told WHAT to do or HOW to do it. The CEO of the universe gives us instructions. Your money and influence will NO LONGER control us. The CEO can provide for us with different means, I'm sure.
Do not create any more obstacle courses for us or hoops to jump through. If you are called to raise money to give, than RAISE MONEY TO GIVE. Otherwise, get the hell out of our way and shut your arrogant asses.
Signed,
Agent B
(on behalf of all the CEO's agents world wide)
Thursday, December 15, 2005
The Legend of...Betty Cherry
This afternoon I tagged along with Agent Wife and Agent Offspring for one of their regular assignments. We drove 21 miles north to the city of Anson to visit Betty Cherry, who lives in a care home. Grandma Nelly is usually AW's partner in this weekly outing, but she is on vacation for the holidaze.
Betty Cherry is one of the last, if not THE last, remaining relationships with "the family" from the old izzy days. She is an 80 year old, mentally slow woman that talks with a slurred mumble that's difficult to interpret. She showed up at the izzy food pantry one Sunday night when we were cleaning. We couldn't make out a word she said, but figured she wanted food. Betty lived in the near-by drug infested, gang riddled apartment complex. But thankfully, the thug culture had an unwritten rule that Betty was off limits, so she lived there as peacefully as possible.
To the best of our knowledge, Betty has no family. She has never been married and has no offspring. We know of no siblings, relatives, or where she was born . We probably wouldn't have known her name if it weren't for her TX ID card. We once took her to our friends, the Carrs, who have farm animals out in Jones County. Every time a rooster crowed, Betty cried. But not in a scared way. I think the animals brought back repressed memories. She must have been raised on a farm somewhere.
Betty is funny. She has the mentality of a little kid. She likes coloring books and crossword puzzles (she can't spell - she just fills in random letters). Like a child, Betty has no social graces. If she sees something she wants, like the gum you're chewing, she'll yell out a mumbled, "Gimme one of those".
Betty is a diabetic and therefore must watch sugar intake...but she's worse than a crack addict looking for a hit when it comes to sweets. Like Oprah on a baked ham, Betty will devour anything sweet that crosses her path. At various food outreach functions, someone had to monitor her...usually after she downed three pieces of pie.
My favorite memory of Betty was about 5 years ago. The Bossman and I were in his office with the door closed. Betty peeked her head in and tried to say something with a mouth full of cookies and chocolate on her lips. The Bossman said, "Huh?" Betty kept repeating her garbled phrase, "awwwffffme meeenaaaa FFWWW?!?" over and over with cookies in the mouth. Fifteen minutes later I got off the floor from crying and laughing.
Since Betty is mentally handicapped and has no family, she is officially a "ward of the state", as in, Texas is her legal guardian. Her health got to where she needed assisted living and she can no longer walk. Betty's health care worker invited her to move in and be roommates. That worked out for about a year until that lady got married. With the new husband and all, Betty ended up in the care home in Anson. She hates it there. The workers are actually really good to her, but she can't stand being cooped up when she had freedom all these years.
I've been hearing reports of Agent Wife and Grandma Nelly's visitations in Anson. I was really honored to be a part of it today. I enjoyed our game of dominoes and the stroll around the greater Anson metro area.
Someone told me that in The Book it says something about "entertaining angels" as if heavenly beings come to earth disguised as people. I don't know if that's true and I don't care. But it wouldn't surprise me if Betty Cherry was one of them.
Betty Cherry is one of the last, if not THE last, remaining relationships with "the family" from the old izzy days. She is an 80 year old, mentally slow woman that talks with a slurred mumble that's difficult to interpret. She showed up at the izzy food pantry one Sunday night when we were cleaning. We couldn't make out a word she said, but figured she wanted food. Betty lived in the near-by drug infested, gang riddled apartment complex. But thankfully, the thug culture had an unwritten rule that Betty was off limits, so she lived there as peacefully as possible.
To the best of our knowledge, Betty has no family. She has never been married and has no offspring. We know of no siblings, relatives, or where she was born . We probably wouldn't have known her name if it weren't for her TX ID card. We once took her to our friends, the Carrs, who have farm animals out in Jones County. Every time a rooster crowed, Betty cried. But not in a scared way. I think the animals brought back repressed memories. She must have been raised on a farm somewhere.
Betty is funny. She has the mentality of a little kid. She likes coloring books and crossword puzzles (she can't spell - she just fills in random letters). Like a child, Betty has no social graces. If she sees something she wants, like the gum you're chewing, she'll yell out a mumbled, "Gimme one of those".
Betty is a diabetic and therefore must watch sugar intake...but she's worse than a crack addict looking for a hit when it comes to sweets. Like Oprah on a baked ham, Betty will devour anything sweet that crosses her path. At various food outreach functions, someone had to monitor her...usually after she downed three pieces of pie.
My favorite memory of Betty was about 5 years ago. The Bossman and I were in his office with the door closed. Betty peeked her head in and tried to say something with a mouth full of cookies and chocolate on her lips. The Bossman said, "Huh?" Betty kept repeating her garbled phrase, "awwwffffme meeenaaaa FFWWW?!?" over and over with cookies in the mouth. Fifteen minutes later I got off the floor from crying and laughing.
Since Betty is mentally handicapped and has no family, she is officially a "ward of the state", as in, Texas is her legal guardian. Her health got to where she needed assisted living and she can no longer walk. Betty's health care worker invited her to move in and be roommates. That worked out for about a year until that lady got married. With the new husband and all, Betty ended up in the care home in Anson. She hates it there. The workers are actually really good to her, but she can't stand being cooped up when she had freedom all these years.
I've been hearing reports of Agent Wife and Grandma Nelly's visitations in Anson. I was really honored to be a part of it today. I enjoyed our game of dominoes and the stroll around the greater Anson metro area.
Someone told me that in The Book it says something about "entertaining angels" as if heavenly beings come to earth disguised as people. I don't know if that's true and I don't care. But it wouldn't surprise me if Betty Cherry was one of them.
Betty with Agent Offspring - Nov '04
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
profiler quiz: Criminal Minds
OK, Criminal Minds probably isn't the greatest show in the world, but I still like it. And I think I'm finally figuring out why.
I missed my life's calling. I was meant to be a profiler.
I now know what I was meant to be because of my perfect score on the profiler quiz. It told me this:
YOU SEEM TO POSSESS AN INNATE UNDERSTANDING OF JUST HOW UNPREDICTABLE HUMAN NATURE TRULY IS. YOUR INTELLECTUAL CURIOSITY, OPEN-MINDEDNESS, AND EMPATHY TOWARDS OTHERS SINGLE YOU OUT AS A STRONG CANDIDATE FOR CRACKING INTO THE MINDS OF OTHERS!
I wonder if I could put this on my resume. Maybe the FBI will hire me.
I missed my life's calling. I was meant to be a profiler.
I now know what I was meant to be because of my perfect score on the profiler quiz. It told me this:
YOU SEEM TO POSSESS AN INNATE UNDERSTANDING OF JUST HOW UNPREDICTABLE HUMAN NATURE TRULY IS. YOUR INTELLECTUAL CURIOSITY, OPEN-MINDEDNESS, AND EMPATHY TOWARDS OTHERS SINGLE YOU OUT AS A STRONG CANDIDATE FOR CRACKING INTO THE MINDS OF OTHERS!
I wonder if I could put this on my resume. Maybe the FBI will hire me.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
the Muller files...
I'm getting more & more into the George Muller biography. Which is funny as I'm a slow reader. And this book is horribly written. But as an agent, I appreciate the "just the facts, ma'am" writing style. I think Roger Steer simply pasted together a 320 page timeline of Muller's journal writings. And this is a very good thing because I don't think miracles from the CEO need any dramatization. Just the facts, ma'am.
I was very encouraged by today's reading. Basically, Muller got these ophanages up and running on little money. The years between 1838 and 1846 were the greatest trials of faith. Money came at just the right moment each and every time. Sometimes it seemed delayed. Yet every orphan had no clue of the financial issues as each were clothed well and ate very well.
From page 88: " Muller's journal often hints at, but rarely attempts to analyze, why it was that God allowed this period of trial".
Muller says "...but only for the trial of our faith, our gracious Lord delays as yet, to send larger sums.' Muller saw a purpose in the trial similar to that in the Old testament story where God tested Abraham by telling him to offer Isaac as a burnt offering on the mountain in Moriah. In one sense, the period was a test of Muller's obedience, and a time when his character was molded-prepared, in fact, for his life's work." (italics mine).
Being prepared for his life's work. That's exactly where I feel I'm at now.
My favorite passage on page 89, as quoted by the manager of one of Muller's orphan homes: "...the years of trial were 'designed by the Lord to deepen Mr. Muller's faith and to show him that prayer is no vain thing. Many years afterwards he faced his financial trials with scarcely a tremor".
Scarcely a tremor. That's where I want to be. Or at least start a cool band with that name.
I was very encouraged by today's reading. Basically, Muller got these ophanages up and running on little money. The years between 1838 and 1846 were the greatest trials of faith. Money came at just the right moment each and every time. Sometimes it seemed delayed. Yet every orphan had no clue of the financial issues as each were clothed well and ate very well.
From page 88: " Muller's journal often hints at, but rarely attempts to analyze, why it was that God allowed this period of trial".
Muller says "...but only for the trial of our faith, our gracious Lord delays as yet, to send larger sums.' Muller saw a purpose in the trial similar to that in the Old testament story where God tested Abraham by telling him to offer Isaac as a burnt offering on the mountain in Moriah. In one sense, the period was a test of Muller's obedience, and a time when his character was molded-prepared, in fact, for his life's work." (italics mine).
Being prepared for his life's work. That's exactly where I feel I'm at now.
My favorite passage on page 89, as quoted by the manager of one of Muller's orphan homes: "...the years of trial were 'designed by the Lord to deepen Mr. Muller's faith and to show him that prayer is no vain thing. Many years afterwards he faced his financial trials with scarcely a tremor".
Scarcely a tremor. That's where I want to be. Or at least start a cool band with that name.
Monday, December 12, 2005
testimony #003
Mental note to self: don't forget this moment. Ever. Especially when things look bleak.
I'm beginning to love the mail man. Today I open the mail. It was a chunk of christmas cards. And two of them had rather large, unexpected financial gifts. It's more than what I asked the CEO for, which will get us through December and allow us to help some others that we recently heard about.
And it came today...of all days, when I so desperately tried to cash this Canadian check, which is damn near impossible in the fair mother city. It has to be sent to a collections agency in Dallas to be cashed. It could take 4-6 weeks. Which will be in time for January, I suppose.
I've been the one who panics. Agent Wife, as always, has been calm & cool the whole time. She always is. She's low maintenance and never worries about money. She's the best wife ever.
Thank you for your provision, Lord. May I never whine about needs again...
I'm beginning to love the mail man. Today I open the mail. It was a chunk of christmas cards. And two of them had rather large, unexpected financial gifts. It's more than what I asked the CEO for, which will get us through December and allow us to help some others that we recently heard about.
And it came today...of all days, when I so desperately tried to cash this Canadian check, which is damn near impossible in the fair mother city. It has to be sent to a collections agency in Dallas to be cashed. It could take 4-6 weeks. Which will be in time for January, I suppose.
I've been the one who panics. Agent Wife, as always, has been calm & cool the whole time. She always is. She's low maintenance and never worries about money. She's the best wife ever.
Thank you for your provision, Lord. May I never whine about needs again...
did I mention that job hunting sucks?
Maybe it's my sick humor, but I find it funny when I log into the Texas Workforce Commision site and get this encouraging message:
Welcome Agent B!!
You have _0_ call ins.
You have _0_ new job matches.
Welcome Agent B!!
You have _0_ call ins.
You have _0_ new job matches.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
The agent family christmas tree
Agent Wife & I started a holiday tradition several years ago. Some of the ornaments that we decorate our tree with are various trinkets that members of the family (folks from the old izzy days) and dear friends gave us. And these trinkets are not always christmas-ey things
One ornament is a long, dangly, native feather-looking earring that some homeless guy gave Agent Wife. I don't remember who it was. Then, we have about 100 glow-in-the-dark angels (the naked baby-butt kind) from a widow lady who use to come get groceries as well as help volunteer. Then there's a red plastic coin purse from Sissy (one of Jed Clampett's sisters). Oh yeah...from recent years there's the santa shot glass from Obi-Wan.
But my favorite is the GM ignition key on a shoe string. It was given to me by a homeless guy named Gentle Ben, who was in our lives for a whopping two weeks. He had a van that he talked about every day when he showed up for lunch. I never saw the van. It was giving him problems and he was tired of trying to keep it fixed. He decided to head back towards Odessa, TX and leave the van where ever it was...broken down on the side of some street here in the fair mother city. It was like a burden to him, I guess. He handed me the key, worn around his neck and made some profound statement...something like, "Here...I'm now free from this". I've never seen him since.
Lord...where ever Gentle Ben is...may he now be free.
Gentle Ben at "The Table" in izzy February 27, 2002
One ornament is a long, dangly, native feather-looking earring that some homeless guy gave Agent Wife. I don't remember who it was. Then, we have about 100 glow-in-the-dark angels (the naked baby-butt kind) from a widow lady who use to come get groceries as well as help volunteer. Then there's a red plastic coin purse from Sissy (one of Jed Clampett's sisters). Oh yeah...from recent years there's the santa shot glass from Obi-Wan.
But my favorite is the GM ignition key on a shoe string. It was given to me by a homeless guy named Gentle Ben, who was in our lives for a whopping two weeks. He had a van that he talked about every day when he showed up for lunch. I never saw the van. It was giving him problems and he was tired of trying to keep it fixed. He decided to head back towards Odessa, TX and leave the van where ever it was...broken down on the side of some street here in the fair mother city. It was like a burden to him, I guess. He handed me the key, worn around his neck and made some profound statement...something like, "Here...I'm now free from this". I've never seen him since.
Lord...where ever Gentle Ben is...may he now be free.
Gentle Ben at "The Table" in izzy February 27, 2002
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