Thursday Thought

At Ben’s Pretzels, they mix flour, water, and salt—and make magic. At Ben’s Pretzels, they thank you for stopping by calling out, “Have a pretzel day!” At Ben’s Pretzels, you hear Christian music playing over the speakers and read Bible verses on the walls. No visit to Shipshewana, Indiana would possibly be complete without a pretzel at Ben’s. As I’m blessed with a wife who agrees, we recently sat down to a steamy hot twist slathered in butter and bursting with bits of crunchy crystal salt.   Munching while marveling at this delectable (but hardly diet-worthy) treat, my eye caught sight…

When I first began preaching,  I ran every sermon outline by my friend and mentor, Mike Kellogg of Moody Radio.  Peering over his glasses, he matched his steely stare with a deep-throated warning I’ve never forgotten: “This had better be about the Bible.”   Throughout my ordination process, that same truth chiseled itself into my soul.  In truth, I still think about it every time I’m crafting a sermon outline.   It is the yardstick I use to measure my own sermons—and those of others.  A few weeks ago we traveled to Florida, our flight taking place during Sunday morning church…

“I seen ‘em way before I got to the intersection,” recalled my friend, Jack.  “They were on the sidewalk just outside a Starbucks in downtown Chicago, waving iPads as they gestured.”  I knew a story was brewing with Jack. There always is. “Who were they?” I asked, taking Jack’s bait. “At first, I wasn’t sure. Since I go that way a lot, I figured it was probably an environmental group like Sierra.  You see them a lot.  Young folks hungry for conversations and contributions—mostly the latter,” Jack chuckled. “So if it wasn’t Sierra, who was it?” “The ACLU. That’s who. …

Her name is Agnes.  She misses her mother.    The shards of her broken life frame a story that redfines tragedy.  I listened to bits and pieces as we sat in her third floor apartment outside of Chicago—a long way from her childhood home in Budapest, Hungary.  At the age of eleven, she awoke to the sound of a gunshot in her front yard, announcing the arrival of German storm troopers.  Black booted soldiers forced their way through the front door—in search of Agnes’ mother.    One week previously, the Nazis hauled away her father in a similar early morning assault after…

It is earth’s highest mountain above sea level.  It is also the the most coveted prize in mountain climbing.    At 29,029 feet, Mount Everest pierces high enough into the sky to be on a level with commercial jetliners. Since Sir Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzig Norrgay made the first successful climb in 1953, nearly 4000 others have made the attempt and about 200 have died in the process.  This season alone, after forking out $25,000 for a climbing permit, at least 11 climbers have died.  Among them is Christopher Kulish, a 62-year-old attorney from Boulder, Colorado.  Ironically, Mr. Kulish…

Not many get shot out of the sky and live to tell about it. Even fewer reach the age of 100. Freelin Carlton has done both.  The World War 2 vet was captain of a B-24 bomber, notoriously tricky to fly.  The “Liberator’s” controls were stiff and heavy.  No cabin pressurization, no heater, no windshield wipers—and no washroom.  Worse, the plane had only one exit—in the tail—which was challenging to access in an emergency evacuation.  Hence, the bomber enjoyed the dubious title, “The Flying Coffin.”  Between 1940 and 1945, the Consolidated Aircraft Corporation built more than 18,000 of the massive…

We are a nation at war.  With each other.    For now, the battles are fought with blogs rather than bombs, tweets rather than tanks.  Still, we appear to be inching toward a civil war of values.      So where does the Bible fit into a culture like ours?  What exactly is the role of Scripture in a divided nation?  And can we really expect the Bible to have a hearing as the fighting heats up?   These are the questions that gushed over the banks of my mind as I held a copy of the American Bible Society’s 1864…

I won the lottery!  Well…not really. It only felt that way, when on a recent flight to Pennsylvania, I was seated in an exit row.  For those who don’t travel much, sitting in an exit row seat means you don’t have to hunch, lurch, twist and otherwise contort your body to fit into what the airlines claim is a seat.  The amount of legroom is almost humane. But the gift of this non-smooshed seat comes with a catch. A flight attendant actually “interviews” you just before take-off.  You must confirm that you… A. Will read and comply with the emergency…

She was just seven years old.  But Lynnette had clearly crossed a line. It was an offense that called for an apology.   I went to her room wanting to teach her that an apology is more than a quickly mumbled, “Sorry.” It means naming your offense, acknowledge that it was wrong, and then asking for forgiveness. With a bit of prompting, Lynnette came through with a very nice apology. As she uttered the words, “Will you forgive me?” I looked her squarely in the eyes (I was down on one knee).  I said, “Of course I forgive you. I’ll…

Deep inside I’ve always wished I was more macho.  The barrel-chested “Mr. Brawny” brand of guy. Alas, I’m a smidge over five foot eight and decidedly “un-brawny.”  So why the fixation? A macho guy wouldn’t have given a second thought to flying with a World Vision team to Senegal.  But I did.   A macho guy would scarcely have noticed the beetles crawling under the door of our hotel, or the lizard that seemed to chuckle at me as he skittered across the window curtain.   Me?  I was a bit squeamish, especially as I eyeballed a spider on the wall that…