A few months ago, Ashley and I signed up for Financial Peace University with some other friends from church.
For the longest time, we thought the whole Dave Ramsey thing was a cult. (Since he lives here, people in Franklin can get a little whacko about their coupon-clipping and campaignging against consumer debt.)
But, as we started reading and listening to what he head to say, much of it began to make a lot of sense. So, we started to do what he said, focusing all our savings efforts on knocking out debt quickly.
The most effective apologetic is love. This may seem simplistic or even naive in a pluralistic, universalistic, spiritually heightened, anti-Christian, and syncretistic world, but knowing all the "right" answers is not nearly as effective as demonstrating a transformed life of genuine love and concern and care.
How do you rebuild a country after a major disaster?
Begin with the local church.
As cliche as it has become in some circles, the local church really is the hope of the world (originally a Bill Hybels quote, I believe.)
Of course by "church", I don't mean a building or a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization, but rather the local expression of the Body of Christ in a particular area -- a fellowship that cares deeply about following God and reaching its own community.
With the Church to Church program, we are connecting churches from around the world to Haitian churches to empower local leaders to rebuild their own country. It's a great model, and we're seeing tremendous fruit from it.
Watch this great video from Katie Rowland, describing one such relationship between a U.S. church in California and a local church in Haiti.
What do you think -- is the hope of Haiti the local church?
Rules can be tricky. They keep us safe from really going off the "deep end," but they can also constrict our passions and can murder our hearts.
I've struggled with them my whole Christian life: to be disciplined without being legalistic, to embrace grace without abusing it, to have some structure in my life without being ruled by it.
Rules. In and of themselves, they aren't necessarily bad; they're just structures set in place towards a specific end.
Today is my wife's birthday. When I asked her what she wanted, she said, "I just want to be celebrated."
So, we started early this year, and I took her out to her favorite restaurant last night, "let" her beat me at mini-golf, and watched a chick flick with her.
This morning, I made pancakes for her and may have a few more tricks up my sleeve to remind her of what a blessing she is to me. I'm doing my best to make her feel celebrated.
It's been six months since the earthquake in Haiti. Most of us have moved on and more or less forgotten about the disaster, but some have not. From what I can gather from reports by my colleagues on the ground, there is still a lot of work to be done.
In other words, if you were thinking that you were off the hook, there is still reason for you to go to Haiti.
You should think about following Adam McLane's example. A member of the YMATH group we sent in February, Adam saw the destruction of the quake a couple weeks after it had occurred. For all intents and purposes, he's done his "good deed" with this humanitarian crisis and could move on.
As with anything in life, expecting events to happen in a certain way is even a part of going on a mission trip. It doesn't matter that you're going to serve someone else. Inevitably, there are expectations that arise:
You have an idea in your head of what the culture will look like and feel like.
You often have an idea of where you will sleep and what ou will do.
You usually have an idea -- an expectation, even -- of what you, personally will get out of the trip.
I know that I sparked some controversy in last week's posts about patriotism and faith (okay, so it was almost two weeks ago now). I know that I don't have all this figured out. I was venting about some of my discomforts with tying religion and political allegiances too closely together and am still working out a lot of this. Thanks for your comments that have helped me think through this a little more.
I don't mean to beat a dead horse (what an awful word picture, by the way), but let's look at it one more time, in light of Scripture. And please, if you disagree with an assumption or think I'm being naive, speak up.
I don’t understand stories – why some end and others seem to go on forever. In a way, it seems cruel. I know that it’s not. But it sure feels that way sometimes.
This feels like a season of death, but maybe it’s just a transition between stories.
In the late spring, we buried Lois, the matriarch of our church. She was a sassy but sweet woman who lived a life that was nothing short of inspiring. Her laugh was infectious and her smile cathartic. She had an edge to her that made her both fun and unpredictable. You never knew what kind of response you might provoke in her. It wasn’t uncommon for her to razz you, even from the comfort of her electric wheelchair with a tank of oxygen wheeling behind her. That image, in and of itself, was part of her charm and humor.
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A few months ago, Ashley and I signed up for 
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Today is my 
It's been six months since the