Busyness

Busyness. I know I’m not the only one who struggles with busyness. You’re busy. I’m busy. We’re all busy. My busy lifestyle gets in the way of so many things I really need to do—good things, healthy things. That whole “idle hands are the devil’s workshop” is bs. The enemy does his greatest works in my life by keeping me from what God REALLY wants me to do. His best tool is busyness.

One of the things I REALLY need to do is stay in touch with my daughter Katie and my son-in-law Nick (See Below). They left Tuesday (March 31^st) to fulfill one of their dreams: To thru-hike the entire Appalachian Trail—all 2,168.1 miles of it. It’ll probably take them 5-5½ months to pull this off.

So what does this have to do with busyness? Well, I made a commitment to them. I committed to send them a Bible verse and a word of encouragement—every day—for the duration of their hike. Nick has his iPhone with him and promises to touch base every time they get service. And even though they won’t be able to read my emails each day, I've committed to write them.

It always helps to have some accountability, so I’m going to ask for your help. I’m going to post my updates to Katie and Nick periodically on the Men’s Blog here. It will help to “hold my feet to the fire” knowing this. I would also cherish your prayers for my kids. I know that they are always in God’s hands, yet we’re still called to pray and ask for God’s care. I would love it if (when you happen to think of Katie and Nick) you would lift up a prayer for them.

With that…here’s the first three days.

—Dan        

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Day One. First Day on the Trail.

Now, I’m sure that you’re both swimming with thought and emotion, so I’ll make it brief. I really wanted to just retrace some of what we've already talked about (over and over) at the house.

This thing…this trip…this big adventure that you've dreamed and planned and thought about for almost a year is finally here. It’s no longer future-tense. It’s here…it’s now! And I know that by the time you finally read this, you will be either minutes away from starting the AT…or days into the hike. Either way, I simply want to remind you of this:

Trust.

You need to trust. You need to trust each other. You need to trust that everyone back home is cheering you on and praying for you daily (and sometimes “minutely”). But more importantly, you REALLY need to trust God. Proverbs 3:5-6 says,

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to (or acknowledge) him, and he will make your paths straight.”

You are going to experience all kinds of stuff on this journey: joy, fatigue, quiet, homesickness, beauty, peace, elation, despair. You get my drift. But as you take each step…one step at a time…try and remember that nothing you experience on this hike will happen without first passing through God’s hands. Nothing. Everything in life is part of God’s plan. The good AND the bad. And honestly, this is probably the hardest part of following and understanding God for me. I know that He’s in control of everything in my life, yet, I don’t want the tough stuff. I only want life to be easy. I want everyone I love to be safe and happy and problem-less. But that isn’t the way life works…and Jesus NEVER promised that. And the truth is, it’s usually the hard things in life that have taught me the most. I know this will be true for you too.

So, please seize this moment in time…this “Magic Window”…the next 5 months or so and take it all in. Drink it all in! The good AND the bad…realizing (and trusting) that God is near…that you need to lean into that truth…and that He will see you through to Maine.

Love,

Dad    

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Day Two. 0.2 Miles in...

It was great to hear that familiar “ding” from my phone last night—telling me I got a text message from you two—even after reading it:

“Alright, we are laying down in our tent! We are only about 0.2 miles into Springer Mountain. Haha. Doug and Patti dropped us off about halfway up the Approach Trail.”

I couldn't help but laugh. Your Uncle Doug prides himself on his navigational skills. He thought he dropped you off at the trail head. Oops. I’ll make sure he doesn't live this one down. That being said, I’m sorry. The Approach Trail is ROUGH…especially when you’re first starting out. Mom and I were sitting in the living room with Jon and Carrie Alexander when your text came through—which ended up dominating our discussion for over an hour. I wish you could have been there to hear what they had to say about you two. You would have been encouraged. Jon and Carrie are as excited as we are that you’re doing this—and equally expectant for how it’s going to stretch you and grow you personally…and as a couple.

Which brings me to your scripture verse of the day. This one comes from Philippians 4:4-7:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

There’s a lot packed into those few verses, I know. Yesterday was a hard start…and there’s more hard days ahead. I will admit, I’m grateful for what I know you hiked through today. I remember that portion of the AT from when Ben and I hiked it. I hope you were able to “rejoice” as you tramped through those dense wooded paths…under the many rhododendron arbors…and by (what seemed like) countless streams. I also hope today eased some of the anxiety you’re feeling from yesterday.

Please re-read those words from Philippians. Let them really sink into your head. Try and focus on a few of the truths found there, like:

God is near…you need to talk to Him…you need to tell Him everything you’re feeling, and you need to ask Him for His help. When you do all that, you get a promise: peace. And not just ordinary peace, but a peace that neither of you will be able to know or understand—one that will guard and protect your hearts and minds.

That’s a promise from Jesus…for EVERY situation…even if you’re only 0.2 miles into the trip.

Love,

Dad

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Day Three. Be Still

Silence. That’s what I struggled with last night. The silence. I know that silence from your end is what most of your hike will look like from our end, but it doesn't make it any easier. I laid in bed last night wondering how far you hiked yesterday…whether you felt better about things than the day before…whether you met some people on the trail…and whether you had to use your knives on them. Just kidding…kind of.  

I’ll admit. I hate silence. I love quiet, but I hate silence. I love the quiet of the woods—especially right after a heavy snow (like on Christmas night, Katie, when we took Peanut for a walk in about a foot of snow). I love that kind of quiet. But, silence, that’s a different story. Like nothing in your ears from noise-reduction headphones or when Mom goes quiet when we’re arguing…I hate that kind of silence.

I used to hate silence from God. I still struggle with it, but at least I don’t hate it anymore. When I was about your age, I went through a real “dark night of the soul”. That’s what St. John of the Cross called them; those times in our lives, when things get rough, and where God seems silent—to the point of non-existence. I began to doubt everything during this time; the faith system I was raised in. The teachings of Jesus. I worked myself to the point where I doubted God’s existence.

And all of this grew (it what seemed like) God’s silence.

It was around this dark night that I came across today’s Bible verse…and I know you know this verse already. It’s on the plaque that hangs over our back door (so that I see it every day before I leave the house):

“…Be still, and know that I am God…” Psalm 46:10

Be still. Be silent. That’s the best place to find God. I learned (and continue to re-learn) this lesson the hard way; that when I get quiet…when I get silent…I have a much greater chance of hearing or experiencing God. There’s going to be a lot of quiet time on your hike, so please try and use it. Use it to “be still and know”. 

Sometimes God speaks the loudest in silence.

I—on the other hand—would love to end your silence. Please let us know how you’re doing, as a soon as you can.

Love,

Dad

Masculinity

Here's more food for thought from our buddy Trent. -- Dan 

Fear freezes men. Fear keeps us in isolation. The lie we propagate is invulnerability.

Stand on your own two feet…pull yourself up by your bootstraps…depend on no one.

Vulnerability tells us we are not alone.

Vulnerability makes us strong.

The typical man today is isolated and lonely. Other men are viewed as adversaries and this prevents friendships. We know that we were created for more, but we don't want to be known, we don't want to be vulnerable.

We hide.

We hide in plain sight. We keep ourselves so busy with activities and acquaintances that we rarely know anybody well. As a consequence, how well can we really know ourselves?

God's plan is different. Jesus brings us to right relationship with God and provides the template for right relationship with men. Iron sharpens iron. Friendships are fostered through adversity.

“One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”  Proverbs 18-24

Thank you Jesus for my friendships.

- Trent Culver

Building Fences: Cambodia 2014

Our good friend Trent Culver just got back from a life-changing trip to Cambodia. Enjoy!

—Dan Foote

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Cambodia 2014

 “But many who are first will be last, and the last first.”  Matthew 19:30

The most defining experience of my life; sweating alongside orphan children and my brothers and sisters in Christ. We worked in sweltering heat and overwhelming downpours, in the dirt and mud of a rural Cambodian orphanage. I may never see these Cambodian brothers and sisters again in this life but I am certain we will meet again when we reach our eternal home.

Even better, Jesus will have removed the language barrier.

What a privilege to meet these kids. They live at the absolute bottom of the food chain. They are the stray dogs at the bottom of the heap in the poorest country in Asia. What can we bring? Why should we go? Their dominant religions attribute them no value. They live on the streets or in the wilderness. They live off the meager scraps from the only slightly better off families in a nearby village or town. They forage an existence of bananas and bugs in the wilderness. Prostitution and trafficking is everywhere and dignity is stolen. Massive genocide under an evil, psychotic dictator followed by uncontrolled HIV and Aids has left an entire country full of young people and a LOT of orphans. Jesus gives them value. He tells them that they are as important as anybody. Buddhism and Hinduism provide them nothing but discouragement. Religions that teach karma tell these beautiful children that they are flawed and full of bad luck, or karma. As a result, they are kicked to the side.

To the orphan child, and even more the community in which he lives, Christian ministry creates one question. A question that their religions can't answer. What are these rich, white Americans doing here helping the dirty little orphans? Don't they know that these kids possess bad karma? The Americans, the most privileged people on the planet are sweating in Cambodian mud? Don't they know they're doing the worst work in Cambodia and for whom are they doing it? The stray dogs? Of course these white giants have good Karma, they live in America where everybody is a movie star, athlete or master of business.

Cambodia is a country ripe for Jesus Christ. Whole towns receive Jesus and God performs miracles. Their hand-to-mouth existence makes them more aware of the supernatural. They simply know there is something bigger than themselves. So often Americans have to hit rock bottom to look up. When you believe you're at the top, rock bottom is a long fall. Cambodians, especially its orphans, live at rock bottom. They have nowhere to look but up.

I just recently completed a two week trip to Cambodia. It included four and a half days of the hardest work I've ever done. I helped build a chain link fence that totaled over a half mile in length. In addition to removing the old, dirty, termite and fire ant infested fence and posts and clearing heavy rainforest vegetation, my team carried and set approximately 45 tons of concrete fence posts. Shouldering each post I imagined Jesus carrying His cross to take the weight of my sin. I carried many of these posts with a small 13 year old orphan with a work ethic only exceeded by an enormous spirit. He never stopped to rest and he never stopped smiling. These are incredible people. Our work tells both the kids, and their community, that these kids are valued to a group of Christian Americans. A few consider, who is this Jesus Christ that gives grace instead of condemnation? The orphans gain respect and lives are both temporally and eternally changed. Jesus gives the stray dogs value and confidence. The fence more firmly establishes property boundaries. It is a daily visible reminder to the community of the value inherent in these kids. I could work the rest of my daily career and not find a significance comparable to what I realized in 4 and a half days of work at the bottom of the heap in the poorest country in Asia.

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” Matthew 25: 37-40

Christ is the hope for Cambodia. What a revealing and awesome experience. 

—Trent

Men of The Book

I wanted to share a story from my childhood. Sorry. It’s sort of long, but it’s got a point in the end. Here goes:

I’m an old fart now. I grew up in the 60’s and 70’s in a time when school always started the day after Labor Day…ended on June 1^st…and all the mothers I knew were (what is now called) stay-at-home moms. But one year, as I started 2^nd grade, my mom went to work. It was a HUGE deal. My dad was a teacher at the time and the addition of my younger brother Doug, a couple of years before this, taxed the household budget. My parents had to make some hard decisions…and as crazy as this was in 1967…Mom went to work and got a job as a secretary.

Needless to say, they had to find childcare, for my brother Doug who was at home all day, and for my older brother Dave and I when we got home for school. After lots of searching and interviews, my folks landed on Mrs. Leveau—the widowed mother of one of my dad’s former students. In reality, Mrs. Leveau wasn’t that old…maybe early 60s…but she seemed ancient to every 2^nd grader.

But more importantly, there was something I didn't like or trust about Mrs. Leveau.

It was hard for me to understand at the time—let alone articulate—my feelings towards Mrs. Leveau. There was just something about her. I later came to know it as “hypocrisy”—meaning this: Mrs. Leveau was just downright mean when my parents weren’t around, yet as soon as they got home, she was so sugary-sweet I nearly developed diabetes. Mrs. Leveau’s brand of babysitting consisted of keeping Doug in the playpen most of the day while she planted herself in front of our color TV in a rocking chair. When Dave and I came home from school each day, she would barely look up from the TV and mumble a greeting. Then, when Dad came home she was bubbling with, “Why hello, Mr. Foote! Davey, Danny and Dougie have been JUST wonderful today. Haven’t you, boys?” It was enough to make me puke. This went on for most of the school year.

Then, an event occurred that changed everything. It happened on March 4^th—my birthday. It all started with the fact that I had to go to school on my birthday. Every kid thinks they should get the day off from school on their birthday, right? But that was not the case in 1968. Still, I was looking forward to birthday cake and presents after dinner later that night and hardly paid attention when my brother Dave got off the bus early to go to a neighbors for Cub Scouts.

I walked in the door that afternoon and found everything as usual. Doug was standing in his playpen and Mrs. Leveau was parked in front of the TV. She didn’t even look up. I bounced in and said, “Hi Mrs. Leveau! Did you know today was my birthday?” Nothing. She never even acknowledged me—and something started to stir in me. I didn't know what it was. I later came to understand it as “righteous indignation”. I scowled at Mrs. Leveau and asked, “Aren’t you going to wish me a Happy Birthday?” She simply mumbled, “I don’t wish sassy little boys Happy Birthday”.

And that’s when I snapped.

Something deep inside me let go and I marched back to my bedroom. Slowly, methodically and deliberately I began carrying out stacks of our Beginner Books to the living room. The Beginner Books were the (now famous) books published by Random House—written by the likes of Dr. Suess, Bennett Cerf and P.D. Eastman. The Cat in the Hat…Go, Dog, Go!...Green Eggs and Ham. We had them all.

As I stacked the books about 10 feet away from Mrs. Leveau and her throne she looked up from the TV and asked what I was doing. I responded to her the same way Mrs. Leveau had responded to me throughout that school year. I said nothing. I just continued to trot back and forth from the bedroom and stack my books. When I felt like I had enough, I stopped and looked at her. “Will you tell me what you’re doing, young man?” she squawked. I gave her nothing. I simply grabbed the first book and…

…threw it at Mrs. Mrs. Leveau’s head.

I chucked it with all I had in me. The book hit her square in the face…knocking off her glasses—breaking them. As she reeled from my first volley…I pelted her with another book…then another…and another. Sam the Firefly…Hop On Pop…A Fish Out of Water…each book knocking Mrs. Leveau back, defenseless.

She screamed as I showered her with books. When I threw my last…I bolted for my bedroom and jumped into the top bunk. Mrs. Leveau stormed into the bedroom and preceded to yell and flail at me with the paddle my parents used for spankings. I squirmed and squeezed close to the wall, out of her reach—waiting for her to give up—which she finally did. “You just wait until your father gets home, young man!” she huffed as she left the room. I quickly sprang from the top bunk and bolted past Mrs. Leveau in the hallway—just missing her grasp. I ran out the front door into a drizzle of rain.

I ran to the empty lot two houses down and stood with no jacket on—in a daze in some puddles. I waited for the greater storm that was soon to arrive: Dad. I knew I was already dead meat, so what did it matter if I got all muddy. I remember sloshing in an ankle-deep puddle when Dad’s car pulled in the drive.

I waited.

After a time, Mrs. Leveau came out, got in her car and left. Soon after, Dad stepped out and whistled for me. This was it. It was The End.

But it wasn’t.

As a matter of fact. I never got a spanking or even yelled at for the “Beginner Book Incident”. Yes, I had to call and apologize to Mrs. Leveau on the phone, but that was it. And in short order, Mrs. Leveau was gone, Mom quit her job, and home was back normal. My parents knew things obviously needed to change.

The reason I share this long personal story is because I sometimes think about it when I read about Jesus temptation in the desert (READ: Matt. 4:1-11). Each time the enemy throws a temptation at Jesus, what does He do? He throws a scripture verse right back. Boom. Boom. Boom. Like the books I chucked at Mrs. Leveau each time she tried to get out of that rocking chair, Jesus slams Satan with the Word of God. He was a Man of The Book.

That’s a great lesson for us. Now, I’m not saying that Mrs. Leveau was Satan, but what I am saying is that my righteous indignation was warranted. Mrs. Leveau was a hypocrite. I knew something was wrong and it festered in me until I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed to fight. Likewise, we need to get good and angry about the way the enemy is constantly trying to destroy our lives…and we need to get serious about the fight…the same way Jesus did! And the best way to arm ourselves is with His words—the Word of God. We need to be Men of The Book.

And that’s what we’re trying to do with Wake Up Call. We’re trying to help arm each of you for the fight…to try and help you know, and study, Jesus’ life and His words…the best ammunition for the war we’re all in.

I sure hope you’ll get signed up for it (www.flatironschurch.com/mens/#wakeupcall) ...and that your belly will get full of righteous indignation…and that you’ll arm yourself to protect your heart, your home, your family, and your friends. 

Let’s be Men of The Book!          

—Dan  

I Am That Man

We’re deep in the middle of January 2014 and I’m already behind.

Am I the only one who feels that way? Am I the only one who’s late on responding to emails…and phone calls…and has this ever-growing list of undone chores at work and at home? It’s bad. I feel like I’m behind on everything. I mean, I’ve been talking about washing “Lil Red” (my ‘97 Ford Ranger pickup) since Thanksgiving. I may as well just re-name it “Lil’ Gray” at this point.

And all of the joy from the holidays has been snuffed out or deafened by the cry of guilt I feel from leaving so many things left undone.

And there seems to be no end in sight.

I’ve recently asked my admin Lori to help me get some of this monster under control—and help me schedule as much of my world as possible. I hope it helps, but I know myself too well…and I don’t have the best track record, when it comes to transformation and change.

But I want to change.

I want to be…as Jim Burgen’s teaching in the “I Am That Man” series over the last couple of weeks…“a common man with an uncommon desire to succeed.” I want to succeed at home as a husband and father and (recent) grandfather…I want to succeed in my relationships with the people God has put along my path…and I want to succeed at flatirons as the men’s pastor.

The truth is…my success in those areas all rises and falls on whether I have an uncommon desire to succeed in my relationship with Christ. It’s been sobering listening to Jim talk about this—pointing out my failures in putting Jesus first in my life. I know this is true, but so often (and I’m sure I’m not alone) that growing list of things to do gets in the way of what should be at the very top of the list: Jesus.

So I’m going to succeed this year…and I want/need you to hold me accountable to this. I want to follow what Paul writes about in Romans 12:1-2 when he writes,

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” (Emphasis mine)

I need to change (transform), but the only way that change can happen is if I no longer cling to my bad habits (conform). And the only way I can transform is by renewing my mind…which comes from walking closely to Jesus…and reading, studying, mulling over His word.

So, in this New Year…2014…I’m committing myself to reading through the entire Bible again—something I haven’t done in a couple of years. I’ve done it in the past, but I slacked off in the last couple of years. I’ve let other stuff get in the way.

And hopefully, by this time next year, if you ask me, “Are you that guy who read through his Bible last year…who drew closer to God through his study…and was transformed and renewed?” I’ll be able to say… 

      

I am that man.

Want to join me?           

—Dan   

A Cartoon Thanksgiving

“I’m not an artist. I’m a cartoonist.”

I’ve said these words more than I can count…and I’m thankful for it.

For as long as I can remember, I have been able to draw cartoons. That’s it. Cartoons. Sure, I can maybe fudge my way around a watercolor when I have to, but in the end…I’m still just a cartoonist.

The first time I remember really realizing this—and garnering the attention you can receive from drawing funny pictures—was in kindergarten. This was in 1966 and the Batman TV series was at the height of its popularity. It was at this time that (during playtime) I would take some crayons and construction paper and draw Batman. After I’d finish one, I’d give it to one of the kids watching over my shoulder. I have to admit; my little 6 year old heart and head loved having that crowd of classmates around me—oooing and aahing as I colored the Caped Crusader.

I was hooked.

I quickly learned the fastest way to break the social ice and make friends in school was to draw funny pictures, and it really helped me when we moved away from my hometown for two years and had to start anew in different schools. Then, it REALLY helped in high school where I honed my ability to do caricatures. Getting sent to Principal Sater’s office for caricaturizing him as Frankenstein’s monster was one of my personal highlights.

And I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world when I got to be a cartoonist for a living. Out of college, I worked my way through a handful of newspapers before landing my dream job: Editorial cartoonist for The Dallas Times Herald—a Pulitzer Prize winning major daily newspaper. Things got a little heady when my cartoons started regularly appearing in Newsweek, The New York Times and, The Washington Post. And just like little 6 year Danny in kindergarten, I loved the attention (and respect) garnered from having my work published nationally.

A little TOO much.

I began obsessing over this—landing in Newsweek. I would run to the nearest newsstand each Monday, rifling through the latest Newsweek—heart pounding—hoping…wishing…even praying that one of my cartoons had made it on to their Perspectives page. And when one of my cartoons did…it was like a drug! A huge rush! I would walk back to the newspaper, head swirling in ego…then pretending like it wasn’t a big deal to everyone else.

But it WAS a big deal to me.

Deep down…in that dark and secret place of my heart…it was a huge deal! It somehow validated me. Getting reprinted nationally became my idol…and I would have done anything to appease it. Which is one of the main reasons why it hurt so badly when The Dallas Times Herald closed its doors in 1991—ending my career as an editorial cartoonist.

I thought it was the end of the world, but in reality…it was the beginning of something new…and healthy…and right. The closing of the Times Herald doors marks the opening of my heart to God.

Since that fateful day in December of 1991, God has continued to pick away at that dark and secret place in my heart…and do a mighty work. He has painstakingly walked me through my own “valley of the shadow of death” and helped me kill that greedy, lusting part of my life that had become an all-consuming, unquenchable fire of ego. Honestly. I wouldn’t have done it on my own. Left up to me, I would still be craving and lusting after that attention.

Which brings me to another school and another time.

Last week I was in Kabul, Afghanistan with a team of men from Flatirons visiting our partner organization. We were asked to paint the walls of the cafeteria at the new school—a haven for the street kids of Kabul. Someone suggested that I draw some cartoons to decorate the walls; fun pictures for the kids to enjoy as they ate their free lunch.

As I worked on these pictures (painting side-by-side with one of the school’s leaders) I was struck by the difference a few years can make. 

I am still able to make friends and break the ice with a funny picture, but God has taken this odd, little gift He’s given me and allowed me to use it for His purposes. He had redeemed the brokenness in my heart and made it new…and healthy…and right.

Paul writes in Romans 8:28 – “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." 

I used to question God about my fatal career as an editorial cartoonist. I doubted His goodness when The Dallas Times Herald closed down, and I often wondered what the heck He was doing (or NOT doing) with this gift He’d given me.

But sitting on that dirty school floor last week in Kabul…next to my fellow Afghan cartoonist…decorating walls for kids who might never see or meet me…I was humbled and grateful. Grateful that all things DO work for the good…according to His purpose.

So, in this week of Thanksgiving, I am grateful that Crayola pictures of Batman in kindergarten led to…caricatures of Mr. Sater in high school…which led to President Bush in The Dallas Times Herald and Newsweek…which eventually led to a school basement in Kabul.

And I love God all the more for it. Happy Thanksgiving!  

        

—Dan   

Team Players

Wednesday, November 20, 2013 - Kabul, Afghanistan

There is a given with any Flatirons trip to visit one of our partner organizations: Every team has its own personality. You take a group of people, each with their own personalities, quirks, desires, and way of connecting...put them together for several days and the group takes on a life of its own.

As a whole, this 2013 men's team is a VERY fun group of guys. One of the group put it this way, "I don't think I've ever laughed this much...when beer wasn't involved!"  It's true. There's been more laughing and cutting up with this trip than any trip I've taken...in Colorado or Texas.

We've got seven guys on this men's trip to Afghanistan and I can't help but categorize them, like America did with The Beatles in the 60s (John is the "smart one", Paul the "cute one", etc.). Here's how I've broken down this team down in alphabetical order:

Bob is our wise and gentle leader...

Brad is our deep thinker...

David is our well-traveled, grizzled vet...

Jake and Jim are our young, wide-eyed first timers...

...and Zeke is our prankster.

Of course, each of these men are so much more, but it gives you a quick idea of their personalities and how they might play into the team dynamics.

So, each morning we've been getting up and going through a devotion centering the life of Abraham--the key (and common) Bible character in the 3 main world religions: Judaism, Islam and Christianity. This morning we started by answering the question, "Have you ever had God speak to you?"

Now, this team was put together half a year ago. We've gone through several trainings and prep meetings, and we've done a handful of social get togethers too. So, when Zeke answered, "Yeah, about 10 years ago when I kicked meth" and tried to continue, I blurted out, "Whoa! Whoa! Hold on there cowboy! You're going to have to explain that one!"

Zeke went on to share his story of being addicted to meth...of trying to get help and getting no answer from 8 clinics and a, "We're full, but good luck getting help" from another...and then, of his dream, where Jesus sat next to Zeke and told him he needed to change. Zeke finished by telling us he kicked meth the next day...with no help from anyone...except Jesus.

Some of the guys already heard Zeke's story the night before, but the old farts (yours truly) who went to bed early missed it...and sat there with our mouths hanging open...amazed at his story...and the way God works. As I already wrote, this team of 7 (now sitting in a living room in Kabul) had been picked 6 months ago...from a pool of about 20 men who were interested in joining us in Afghanistan and we interviewed.

And the devotion we were doing this morning...dealing with how God speaks to us...was prepared and written and printed almost 2 months ago...long before any of us knew anything about Zeke's story. And I was struck by these two truths:

God is always SO far ahead of us; orchestrating every step we make and piecing together our lives...like little, brightly colored tiles into one, big, beautiful mosaic.
God is at work in lives of the people in this church we call Flatirons like I have never experienced before...and a lot of times, I get a front row seat to it!

I know God can do anything and that He is in the redeeming business, I just never saw it as blatantly and in-your-face before as I do at Flatirons now. Maybe it's because I wasn't looking hard enough before or maybe it's because people are SO much more open and honest about their past mistakes here.

I don't know. All I really know is this, I love it!

And I love that God was WAY out ahead of us, planning, preparing and orchestrating the paths of:

- a BMW repair shop owner
- a charter school CPA
- a former editorial cartoonist
- a world-traveling engineer
- two best buds since childhood and...
- a former meth head

Working in the lives of each of us and putting us all together to do His will in Kabul, Afghanistan. No one could ever (or would ever) even think of doing things this way except God...and I am forever humbled and thankful.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."   Isaiah 55:8-9

Dan