Evendays

I recently posted about P., our friend who has been fighting against his drug addiction. I saw him today. He’s decided it’s not worth fighting, at least for now. He had given me his bank cards so I could pay his bills, but when I went this morning to do that, I saw he had emptied out well over half of his account in the last few days, leaving him and his daughter with nearly nothing to live on for the month (February!!!) and all the bills unpaid from last month. He doesn’t even remember what he did with the money. After a short discussion on the phone, he came and picked up his cards and headed off. I write this knowing that you will pray for him. He may have to touch bottom before getting things in order. Or he may just sink. And then, what will he leave behind?

I spent the week doing assessments of students who are in their last semester at the Glion Hotel School located about 40 minutes away. They’ll receive their BBA in six months. My friend (boss for a week) is a partner in a consulting firm that handles the orientation for students’ future employment, counsel based on interviews and psycho-metrics. I’ve told you about it before. It’s a great opportunity for me to make good money real fast in a legal way. What came across this time more than ever was the difference between self-confidence and arrogance. I’d always thought the two were difficult to distinguish. Not so. The arrogant no longer sees himself as a learner. Pride certainly does precede the fall. Even in our confidence in Christ, we must see ourselves as learners… Of God (in his fullness)… Of the Bible… Of others. Continually observing. Continually asking questions. – Loaned Blue Like Jazz to one of the consultants with whom I’ve spent time conversing about God. In his hotel room that first night, he read the first 50 pages. He came up to me the next morning and told me he’d learned that HE was the problem. (Does THAT ring any bells?) Enjoy the weekend.

I’ve known P. for several years. He has all the religious, feel-good vocabulary down. He can witness you to death. But P.’s an addict, and circumstances led to the point where he could only see his son if I was there for the hand-off between P. and his (separated) wife. About 5 months ago he stopped talking to me. I had become his enemy. I’d expected it since often addicts aren’t too stable in their relationships. Then 2 weeks ago P. gave me a call, needing my help. “Before, you offered to take care of my finances, help me pay the bills. I want to give me my bank cards and access to my account. Will you do it?” After several visits, a few times with the church, P. gave me his cards. But, he crashed and burned this last weekend. (Did you know you can get drugs even though you don’t have money? Pushers are good friends. They keep in contact.) P. is enslaved yet thinks he can beat the habit. Shaking and sweating, hurting all over, the need controls his thinking. A friend of mine says were all addicted to sin. Ever since Eden, we can’t get off the habit. Praise God that he can “fix” it.

D. asked me to meet with his father, André, who’s in the last stages of Leukemia. We hit it off pretty well just before Christmas, and since then he’s invited me back every week to talk more about Jesus. He needs to embrace Eternal Life, yet there is much resistance. André was an actor and was quite handsome, but now innumerable tumors cover his body. His clothes hide most of them, but about 50 cover his face and forehead. When he looks at himself, he sees death. André defends his non-conversion by saying: “I could never be a priest or a pastor, preaching to people the Gospel.” Or: “There are some people I just can’t do good to. I just say, ‘To Hell with them!’” Each time we set up an appointment, he tells me that he’s not sure he’s going to be “here”. The response, as kindly as possible, is: “Then why aren’t you getting ready for Eternity?” André broke my heart today. Federer was playing Haas in the Australian Open. André was more interested in the match. I can understand being more interested in sports than in Bible study. Really, I can. But if you only had a few days to live…?

Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains, Your judgments are like the great deep (Ps 36.6)

If you have a view of the lake, know that it will “hide out” from time to time. Wife, about 15 years ago, met some neighbors that had moved here from Germany. They had a great apartment with a wonderful view of… the fog. For their first 30 days here they never saw the lake, not even once, though it was less than two miles away and they towered 600 feet above it. Then one morning the sun broke through and they had a splendid view. Yes, splendid! Evian is on the other side of Lake Leman from us, and the French Alps rocket straigh up to around 8,000 feet behind that lake-side city. More towards Geneva, peeking through the valleys, you can see Mont Blanc rising 15,780 feet above sea level. But the most wonderful views are towards the southeast, in the Canton of Valais, where glaciers and the Rhone river have cut a narrow path leading to Italy. Behind us are the Jura mountains. They climb to about 5000 feet and are covered with snow this winter. Lausanne is a beautiful place to visit. So come see us.

Last Sunday morning three of those present had hands wrapped up or in a cast from cuts, falls or sudden shocks. One those is C., our church treasureress. Lausanne’s got workers that clean the sidewalks/crossings when snow comes. This is very important in a city where everyone walks, and walks a lot. C. was crossing the icy street in front of the grocery store and did one of those 10.0 falls in the middle of the street. (Flashback): When I was at ACU, there was a place on the walkway to the Coliseum where chapel was held that was big entertainment to godly students. At a certain spot, just feet away from the entrance hall, ice would form on cold days and the ignorant chapel-goers would go sprawling. Dozens of sadistic students (all professing Christians) would stand behind glass windows and watch fellow classmates and respected professors bite the ice. (Present): C. picked herself up (she’d actually torn ligaments that ripped away the bone in her wrist, forcing an operation later), reentered the store. Not to complain, but to buy a kilo of salt which she carefully spread on the icy crosswalk. I love that kind of heart, don’t you? Walk sure footed this weekend, and if you fall, warn others so they don’t.

Not everyone everywhere plays the same sports, even if there are gazoogles of NHL teams in Florida. Our kids grew up in a fun gymnastics club. When the boys decided to get “serious” about sports, Son 1 chose the Olympic sport “Team Handball”. After several years on the same club, he became a goalie. Son 2 plays pivot. Normally you play indoors on a basketball-sized court with a netted rectangular goal on each end, a half circle painted 6 meters from the goal in which only the goalie can roam. You have a half-sized soccer ball that you pass to your teammates. You can dribble the ball, and there is a “traveling” rule. The offense’s objective is to pass and fake and jump until the defense is totally confused, then find the open teammate who will launch the ball with all his force from less than 20 feet away at the unsuspecting goalie. You receive no points for hitting the goalie, but score a moral victory if you knock him out of the game. The defense’s objective is to protect the goal by slapping around the offense, looking surprised when called for a foul, shaking your head when the goalie flinches.

We’ve got a friend who is the only person around qualified for the job she does. About 50, originally from the North-East (USA), she speaks fluently “accented” French and uses all her energy ministering to young and old alike. Contact her and she’ll likely be visiting one of the older ladies in the huge apartment building where she rents. God has used her to convert several of these widows who reach out to other widows. Our friend organizes a Seniors’ Retreat every year. About 20 were together last fall, praying and studying the Bible, doing arts and crafts and hunting for mushrooms. She plans the menu for 140 during the summer youth camp. She assembles a team and dispenses her force, following every French cooking regulation and feeding every camper. In a word, our friend is indispensable to the French work, an arm or a foot to the Body of Christ. Her only desire is to stay in France and work, live near poverty level, no retirement, visit her children maybe once a year, happily exhaust herself in service. But she has lost her financial support. Some of her ex-funds will go to a new building. Perhaps others to where the work is growing faster. We “European” workers are thankful for all we receive, but know that our ministry can be effectively stopped when supporting churches make budget decisions.

When we arrived in Switzerland, Wife began teaching me French, 3.5 hours per day, one-on-one. During that time, I stumbled upon a book that promised to teach me French in 90 days, creatively entitled: French in 90 days. One chapter consisted of a list of questions… Conversation starters, if you like. And one of the questions was (and please, silently read this with a French accént): I was ready for Charles, an elderly member of the Lausanne church, when he got stuck with me alone for an hour. At the café, I popped my well rehearsed question. And he was off for 45 minutes of “discussion” as I pretended to understand, nodding all along. I think we solved many problems that day. 30 months ago in California I shared some political opinions, and probably came close to losing my support. I also spoke up once around some relations and was really convincing, but they don’t talk to me anymore. So we have a rule here: To evangelize, never talk USA politics (even when asked) and never give an opinion about the death penalty. Just nod. Politics are cultural. Just ask Arnold.

Like most of you, our Sunday morning Christmas Day assembly was the three W-s: Worshipful, Wonderful and Well-attended. Sure, not everybody came. But we still had a full house (we do, um, have a small house…) and 20 of us stayed for a Christmas Day meal together. This is in contrast to the growth-minded, large churches I read about on the USA Today site a few days before Christmas:

Cally Parkinson, a spokeswoman for Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, Ill., said church leaders decided that organizing services on a Christmas Sunday would not be the most effective use of staff and volunteer resources. The last time Christmas fell on a Sunday was 1994, and only a small number of people showed up to pray, she said. “If our target and our mission is to reach the unchurched, basically the people who don’t go to church, how likely is it that they’ll be going to church on Christmas morning?” she said.

I just finished Frost and Hirsch’s book, The Shaping of Things to Come. They write: Christology determines Missiology which determines Ecclesiology. Then they continue:

If we get this the wrong way around and allow our notions of the church to qualify our sense of purpose and mission, we can never be disciples of Jesus, and we will never be a missional church.

I think I get their point. I’ve just always considered worship, even corporate worship, as what those who have offered themselves to God love to do (or to be). Even on Christmas.