Bad Boys

“Bad Boys, Bad Boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?” These are the theme song lyrics to the TV Show Cops. Each week, this Reality Series show has camera men ride along with local police and law enforcement departments around the nation. The cameraman follows along as officers pull over suspects, raid houses, and pull sting operations. There’s no commentator, no follow-up, and no explanation, only the here and now.

A typical scene goes something like this: We meet Officer Johnson and he explains to us how long he has been a cop and why he became one. Then, he receives a garbled radio call in his squad car. The camera, seated next to him records everything. Officer Johnson tells us that this area of town is known for its drug problems and that there currently is a suspect outside fighting with someone else. The camera looks forward as we race through the streets with lights and sirens blaring. We roll up to the scene and several questionable looking people race up to the car and tell the officer, (in the most ignorant sounding accent you can imagine) “Them there boys is a fightin.” Officer Johnson gets out and both suspects run. The camera shakes all over the place as the cameraman tries to keep up with Officer Johnson and the running suspect, crossing through people’s back yards and over streets. When the camera finally catches up, all of the action is done. Officer Johnson has his knee on the suspects head and is handcuffing the man. He announces out of breath, “The other one got away, but this guy dropped his drugs.” The suspect is then taken off to the car and we get out-of-breath analysis from three or four other cops involved in the chase. The camera then cuts to the next scene.

I don’t watch television at home, but when I get a chance, I love to catch a glimpse of this show. I know it’s probably a terrible show and not worth watching, but for some reason, I cannot turn it off. I have tried to figure out why this is. Perhaps there is a secret satisfaction of seeing someone else get their come-uppance. Or, maybe it’s the carnal side of me that likes to see a little blood and action. It could possibly be human nature to laugh at other people’s folly. Despite some rude references about West Virginia by friends of mine, I don’t think it is because I’ll see my hillbilly relatives on there.

I truly respect police officers and the job that they do, putting their very lives on the line so that my family can sleep safely at night. But, I can’t help but think that my interest in this show has nothing to do with these heroic men and women; I think it has more to do with a perverted sense of justice in my own heart.

There, but for the grace of God, go I. I have done things in my life that would have meant that a fine gentleman in blue would have taken me before a guy in long black robes with a hammer to have a discussion about immediate future as a guest of the state. I did not get caught at the time and grew out of such behavior – yet, I realize that I could very well have been in front of that camera on cops.

I also realize, in my journey towards God that there is much that I have to atone for. I know the blackness of my own heart, my selfishness, greed, lust, pride, envy, hate, and much more. I know that I deserve punishment, but am very thankful that Jesus provides me with grace and mercy.

Yet… There is still that carnal side of me that gleefully watches someone else get busted.

I know who the real bad boy is.

I’m very glad that God doesn’t have a TV show like Cops where he busts sinners.

On that thought... Just promise me that if you do ever see God’s Cops show some day and there is a chubby bearded guy running from the camera, turn the television off. It’s a terrible show and not worth watching.

Para Cruzar la Frontera

Dispenseme por favor cualquier error en el texto español abajo. Todavía soy aprendiendo el idioma.

Ahora, estudio para mi Grado de Maestro en Seminario. Tengo que aprender griego y hebreo como parte de mis estudios. Tengo entusiasmo de esto, pero también tengo miedo. Yo ya he pasado años para tener fluidez en español y yo sé cuán dificil que puede ser.

Ha sido el cruce de muy difícil la frontera al dominio de otro idioma. De hecho, no ha sido tanto un cruce de la frontera. Ha sido más como chocar por la frontera. Ha habido mucho dolor.

Empecé aprender español en grado 4^th y siguió aprendiendo por el colegio. He estudiado el idioma para más de doce o quince años. En la escuela, yo aprendí muchas palabras, pero nunca aprendí a comunicar. No fue hasta que empezara que asisten servicios de una iglesia en español que atravesé la frontera de fluidez.

Principio, empecé asistir cada semana y entonces luego sólo podría asistir cada pocos meses. Pasaría tres o más horas con un grupo de personas que sólo podría hablar español. Fue muy difícil. Muchos veces, yo regresé a casa con un dolor de cabeza de la concentración que fue requerida.

Asisto ocasionalmente los servicios ahora porque estoy muy ocupado, pero cada semana, hablo con el Pastor español, Alfredo. Yo lo ayudo con su inglés y él me ayuda con español. Ahora, tengo el vocabulario y capacidad para hablar como un niño de diez años de edad. Puedo hablar bien en temas normales, pero información técnica es todavía difícil.

Lo mejor cosa sobre communicando con Alfredo es que compartimos una fe y el conocimiento de la Biblia. Cuándo estamos atascados para una palabra en ingles o español, la persona que lucha citará un verso de Biblia con la palabra o el concepto en ello y el otro puede comprender. Por ejemplo, él hablaba de una mancha en la ventana y no comprendí la palabra que él utilizaba. El citó de Efesios 25-27. Entonces comprendí la definición de mancha. Otro tiempo, hablaba con él sobre los Palos Verdes árboles en la propiedad y no podría recordar la palabra para espinas. Pude utilizar el 2 Corintio 12:7 y entonces, él me enseñó el espina de palabra. Estos son justo dos ejemplos del muchos veces que hemos utilizado este método para comunicar.

Te recomiendo a aprender una segunda lengua. Lo ayudará a expandir su mente, pero también expandir su vista del mundo. Para crucer las fronteras culturales son muy útiles en rompiendo libre del egoísmo y una mente-cerrado. También lo ayuda a aprender empatía, la paciencia, la bondad, y la generosidad. Te fuerza a ver el mundo de un vista diferente.

Regresaré a mis estudios ahora. Espero que usted haga también.

Pero el fruto del Espiritu es amor, gozo, paz, paciencia, benignidad, bondad, fe, mansedumbre, templanza: contra tales cosas no hay ley. Galatas 5:22-23

ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

I am now studying for my Masters Degree at Seminary. I have to learn Greek and Hebrew as part of my studies. I am excited about this, but also scared. I have already spent years to become fluent in spanish and I know how hard that can be.

It has been very difficult crossing the border to fluency in another language. In fact, it hasn’t been so much a crossing of the border. It has been more like crashing through the border. There has been much pain.

I began learning Spanish in fourth grade and continued learning through college. I have studied the language for more than twelve to fifteen years. In school, I learned many words, but I never learned to communicate. It wasn’t until I began attending church services in Spanish that I broke through the border of fluency.

I began attending weekly at first and then later I could only go every few months. I would spend three or more hours with a group of people where I could only speak Spanish. It was very difficult. Many times, I went home with a headache from the concentration that was required.

I rarely attend the church service now because I am very busy, but each week, I spend some time speaking with the Spanish Pastor, Alfredo. I help him with his English and he helps me with Spanish. At this point, I have the vocabulary and speaking ability of a ten year old child. I can speak well on normal topics, but technical information is still difficult.

The best part about communicating with Alfredo is that we share a faith and knowledge of the Bible. When we get stuck for a word in either language, the person who is struggling will often quote a Bible verse with the word or concept in it and the other one is able to understand. For example, he was talking about a smudge on the window and I didn’t understand the word he was using. He quoted from Ephesians 25-27. I then understood the definition of mancha. Another time, I was speaking to him about some Palo Verde trees on the property and could not remember the word for thorns. I was able to use the 2 Corinthians 12:7 and he then taught me the word espina. These are just two examples of the many times that we have used this method of communication.

I encourage you to learn a second language. It will help you to expand your mind, but it will also expand your view of the world. Crossing cultural frontiers is very helpful in breaking free of selfishness and a closed-mind. It also helps you learn empathy, patience, kindness, and generosity. It forces you to see the world from a different point of view.

I will return to my studies now. I hope you will too.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23

How Sweet it Is

Life is too short for broken relationships.

Rifts between loved ones, cold distance between former friends, and estrangement through busyness are all perfectly terrible ways to waste precious time and precious people. There will come a time when you lay on your deathbed awaiting your end. Will any hurt be worth taking to your grave? Will your pride be so much that you push people away even then? Will all of your time spent in pointless activity be worth the loss of time you might have spent with someone you cared about?

In the last few weeks, I have gotten a chance to experience reconciliation in some relationships in my life. One, a family member, has finally opened up, allowing me and my family back into his life. The other is a friend that I used to work with who crashed his life through drugs, disappearing from my life for several years.

In both cases, it was not my desire to break the relationship, but it happened anyway. The hardest part was facing the fact that, no matter how I felt, no matter what I did, it was up to the other person to come back.

With that said, it is so sweet to be able to reforge broken bonds, to be able to connect again to those you have lost. It is amazingly easy to get past the pain and hurt if you just decide that the person is more important than the past.

I learned much about broken relationships and reconciliation as a child. My father and his father were at odds through a large part of my childhood. During that time, I had no grandparents. They were there, but I wasn’t able to see them because of stubborn hard-heartedness on the part of both my father and grandfather. As a child, I could never understand why my grandpa didn’t love me. I now know it had little to do with me, but the damage was still done to a little boy. It wasn’t until my early teen years that they reconciled.

I am no saint. Though I observed the lesson, I didn’t learn it till later in my adulthood. During my late teens and early twenties, I treated the relationships in my life flippantly. I threw away people as though trash. It tears my heart as I think back on hurt that I have caused others.

I greatly regret the 2-3 years that I was apart from some very close friends because I was so self-focused. I also regret some terrible things that I did and said to people during that time. Nothing can ruin a relationship faster than self-centeredness. There is still a girl to this day who I owe a deep apology too for how I treated her. We once were friends and now, no longer are. I hope one day to reconcile that relationship.

I am taking steps now to reach out to people who I have pushed away in the past and those who I have just been too busy to make time for. There are no acceptable excuses.

This is important to God. Jesus says in Matthew 5:23-24 that reconciliation is even more important than going to church today or offering to God. He says to leave the gift in front of the altar and go be reconciled, then come back and offer at the altar.

As I said before, Life is too short for broken relationships.

That’s my challenge to you, this very day. Will you toss away friends and family as though they were garbage? Will you let those past hurts be more important than the person that you valued? Or...Will you reach out. Will you begin to bridge the gap?

This is the day. Don’t let another day pass without reaching out to bridge the gap. It doesn’t matter if they’ve hurt you or you’ve hurt them. It doesn’t matter if you were too busy yesterday, only that you aren’t too busy today.

Someday, some random Thursday afternoon, you are going to get that call. You know the call I am speaking of, the call that says there will never again be a chance to reconcile with them because they are gone. If you don’t do something today, then that someday will come all too soon.

I urge you, stop reading this blog, turn off the computer, and make that call. Be humble. Be forgiving. Ask for forgiveness. Reconcile. Today. Now. Don't wait till it is too late.

How sweet it is to be welcomed back.

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Romans 12:17-18

First Friday

My wife, daughters, and I took a walk through the First Fridays Artwalk in Phoenix last week. What an incredible experience! Not only is it good exercise (we eschewed the shuttle and walked from the Phoenix Art Museum), but it is an incredible experience in humanity.

First Fridays take place, coincidentally, on the first Friday of each month from 6:00pm – 10:00pm in downtown Phoenix. Local art galleries, museums, churches, and small businesses along Central and Roosevelt streets open up in the evenings and the world comes to their door. Add to this, street performers, costumed folks, vendors and the fact that it costs nothing to visit, and you have an event worth checking out.

The best part about First Fridays is the people. Two rich older Scottsdale socialites stood in the a gallery, rubbing elbows with a couple of tough looking lesbian chicks viewing paintings that were obviously the work of the fluttering Spanish artist standing out front. A skinny dude dressed like a dime-store cowboy complete with a bushy handlebar mustache walks by a young girl sporting a purple mohawk, chains, and more piercings than I can count. Two Sedona type ladies wearing hemp skirts and too much turquoise jewelry pass by an asian girl dressed like a cupie doll. A black man with dreadlocks piled high enough to be seen from outer space hands wearing suit hands fliers to a group of young Hispanic kids walking by. A middle-eastern man sells gelato from the storefront of a gallery where he lives with a native-american artist who makes silver jewelry. A lone girl dances by herself, swaying to music that only she can here from the iPod plugged into her ears. A group of several dozen people amble along made up to look like zombies, carrying signs proclaiming “Lose Weight on the Undead Plan” or “Zombies are People Too.” They are preceded by a group of guys and girls dressed up like the Ghostbusters, complete with Proton Backpacks. People of every color, shape, age, and economic group intermingle peacefully.

First Fridays are also about the music. As you walk the east route down Roosevelt, you wade through pools of music. Our first steps took as past an urban church with young street rappers alternate laying down the best rhymes while sharing their testimonies about Christ releasing them from the bondage of drugs and gangs. Next was man playing the pan pipes, selling his CD’s. A little farther down, in front of a small record store that still sells vinyl was a female heavy metal group complete with a generator and screaming electric guitars. Just across the street was a group of men in kilts playing the bagpipes and on up a ways, a white teen played a snare drum and high hat while a black teen played acoustic guitar and sang love ballads. There was a man sitting at an organ playing big band music and from a local cathedral, the sounds of an a cappella chorus rang out like a chorus of angels. The dreadlocked man in a suit had a large boom box playing reggae and many of the galleries had some sort of peaceful music playing with the exception of the Victorian house with the flashing disco lights that had throbbing techno music coming from inside. A homeless guy sat in the median tapping on an old bongs in a desultory way with a tin can placed in front for donations. A little further up, another guy played blues on a saxophone with a hat in front of him (he received a lot more donations).

Vendors sold everything from homemade jewelry to hemp clothing to tamales, to protest t-shirts while street performers did all kinds of crazy things from magic to the guy who jumped barefoot into a pile of glass.

What a crazy and awesome experience. And, here is where the lesson comes in –

This is what I picture eternal life to be like. As I read the Book of Revelation in the Bible, I don’t see that we will spend an eternity wearing white robes and sitting on clouds playing harps. Where that silly idea came from, I don’t know, but it just won’t seem to die. No, I see eternal life here on earth in a great city with all of the different types of people and cultures in the world, living, loving, and serving together in a truly diverse society. (Revelation 5:9 and Revelation 21:1-27)

As I looked out on the crowds at First Friday, I could see God everywhere. He was in the art and the music. God Himself is an amazing artist and musician. He lavished color, texture, and sound on His creation. I believe that our varied artistic abilities are just one example of the ways in which we are made in His image. He was also in the people. It is much easier for me to see Jesus hanging out in these crowds than to see him in many of the churches I have been to. God loves these people where they are, he wishes only that they come to him. He doesn’t expect them to put on a suit and sit rigidly in pews on Sunday morning, he wants them to put on His love and go into the world around them.

I invite each of you to visit First Friday. Immerse yourself in the crowd. Get a little crazy. Dress differently than you normally would. Get out of your comfort zone. Buy something from a vendor and drop some money in the hat in front of a street performer. Talk to the weirdest looking person that you can find. Your probably the weirdest person they can find too. Experience the wonders of diversity and pray for those around you. Be sure to get that gelato – trust me, it’s worth it.

First Fridays link for info: http://www.artlinkphoenix.com/ or http://phoenix.about.com/cs/enter/a/firstfriday.htm

The next First Friday event is November 6, 2009. Maybe I'll see you there. I'll probably be wearing my kilt.