Nameless but not Unknown

The season has begun for the best sport ever created. I love baseball for so many reasons - some  practical and others nostalgic. And I have been a fan of the San Francisco Giants from my childhood until now. Something unique about the Giants that they share with only two other clubs, each of them as storied a franchise as the other, is the fact that when they play their games at home, the names of the players are not on the backs of their uniforms. I suppose the idea is that when you play for those who are your fans, they already know your name.

Being nameless is not always easy, though. Just ask the guy who let Jesus borrow his donkey so He could make his famous Palm Sunday trek into Jerusalem. That procession with  its thronging, adoring crowds is something that Christian churches still commemorate all over the world. Yet this event would not at all have been possible without this man’s generosity. And we don’t even know his name:

“Jesus sent two of them on ahead.  “Go into the village over there,” he said. “As soon as you enter it, you will see a donkey tied there, with its colt beside it. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone asks what you are doing, just say, ‘The Lord needs them,’ and he will immediately let you take them.” (Matthew 21:2-3)

Two things stood out to me as I read it this week. The phrase “just say ‘the Lord needs them’” and the word immediately. I’m so impressed by this individual whose selfless and generous devotion to his Master only required a “Jesus needs it” and not only is it given no questions asked, it is given no minute squandered. It didn’t matter that the donkey could have been a primary source of income that day, what with all the visitors in town for the approaching Passover. Don’t worry about the fact that the colt was probably bred with care and not a little difficulty. Jesus is asking for it - so in return there’s no questions asked.

But what is ironic to me, is that this livestock owner’s demonstration of sold-out loyalty to the Savior in a crucial moment of His destiny did not warrant a mention of his identity in the Gospels. The Holy Spirit certainly could have brought it to Matthew’s otherwise limited memory or lame capacity to pass on credit. But we will never know his name.

Just like another key figure in the passion week story. I’m thinking of the landlord of the upper room. This time the disciples sent on ahead to make preparations are told they will find a “certain man”. And all they had to tell him was “The Teacher says my time has come and I will eat the Passover meal at your house”(Matthew 26:19) and it was better than done. What he gave, no doubt, were utensils, plates, basins, copious amounts of special food, lamb with herbs cooked until tender, and the best wine. And what did he get in return? Water on the floor from twelve pairs of dirty feet having been washed, a table strewn and stained with crumbs, slopped wine, gnawed bones as well as guests hastily departed to leave behind lots of messy dishes, and a room in disarray. And again, no name is recorded.  He too has remained anonymous to this day.

Both these stories beg a question.  Is what I have completely at Jesus’s disposal, all so He can both penetrate the walls of a city and the hearts of its inhabitants? Or so he can have a place prepared for his purposes to unfold? It may never result in my fame, but as long as it results in His, then it’s worth whatever I have to give up. Because in the end, my sacrifice always pales mightily in comparison to His.

God’s prophetic plans are continually unfolding, even today. So He quite often needs followers whose resources are immediately available. Who knows if one of His many important moments has come in our lives or for those around us. He may need what we have to get to a new place or to have a resting place. But regardless, we can be sure of this: He knows our name, even if the crowd doesn’t.  He is your biggest fan. And he never forgets what you forfeit. After all, it’s His applause we should be playing for anyway

Global Student Movement: A Slam

Tag Line
It's a global student movement
A powerful enduement
We're speaking to the nations with a message that is proven
A cause that's meant to move ya
'Cause God is speaking through ya
Either sending us into the world or bringing the world to ya

Our generation
We're so mobile
From Mobile to Guyaquil to Grenoble
We're over being selfish loners or home owners
Blindly ogling more bling and just staying put,
Prone to put down roots
rooting for the home team’s touchdown,
But down in our hearts we're not touched by much stuff anymore
Just down on everything and everyone who don't happen to be hometown.


We can't be patting ourselves on the back
if we keep putting on the back burner
the urgent need of the world
while we only think of how to splurge

like bigger and better bread earners and spurn
the fact that we were called to act and not just stand pat

Stuck in tit for tat
Never straying far from where our friends are at
What I'm saying is that
like stray cats
We're pilgrims made to roam and move and be going places that may lack a welcome mat
That's in fact where some of us need to be at

The call doesn't encompass poor cop outs
Where we  camp out on our campus quad outcrop
planning how we're gonna pass the weekend
or pass our next exam. Us?
God wants to amp us up to lend a hand,
our good works like a light set out on a stand. Understand
that our vision should be more than a canned rehashing
of the same old stagnant plans of man
that can't fulfill us like planting a church in Afghanistan can
Cause if it's all just about going through the motions
to get a paycheck, then hey you better check
your motives, man.

Are we capable of being deeply moved in our emotions
by owning up to the notion
that our future just might include people who live across the ocean?
OK, then let's shun the self-promotion
Cause It's not about me -o man
That's what's all the commotion
Is about. It's  way bigger than that. See

It's global.
As God's spirit blows across the globe,
It'll so both mess you up  and muster new hope
So don't have have the gall
To go and blow off this urge to go
your ego making you go and lowball
the Heavenly Father's higher call Acting like a know-it-all when all I know is
the cry of the lost bellows to us who are all here below to give our all so all can know the all-knowing One

Sure His plan has been moving slowly  but surely
but it doesn't mean I get all surly
Cause God doesn't owe me an apology or explanation
for why the nations are in the state the'yre in -
but surely Goodness and Mercy
are gonna follow us if we set out to be all about
winning for Him this entire world that's been spinning
since he first spun it in the beginning.
He's all about sending us out to be spending
ourselves for what he's planned as an incredible ending

A bonus to a life with a greater purpose he has shown us
So we own up that even though we're mature grown ups here
he's the true owner of us
and of all we dream and do
The onus is on us y'all, it's true

Only cast a glance at the planet
and if you can imagine the plan every woman and man it has on it
That's the tonic. And it's ironic how our narcissism is so chronic
that we care more how look through the lens of a Nikon
than through the eyes of God
emulating shallow pop icons
Our worship of self is at its root demonic
The Internet, we're always on it
Though we've sworn off it
We're like a dog returning to its vomit
hoping someone will like us on Facebook
Look, face up to it, we always show our best face
Unable to face up to our true selves
I can con you but it's unconscionable to conceive that you can
Even contemplate conning the incomparable Creator. Come on, man!

Take a minute to envision this: we need to have a strong sense of conviction
about the immense future he has for us without limit
which has to include the winning of lost souls in it
And it's infinitely better than we could ever imagine
or can have planned it. And it
is a plan
that's always managed to fashion from among mankind
ample examples of passionate
Christ followers fulfilling God's long-standing
goal that his people refined like gold
wouldn't gloat or self-promote nor admire how much we glitter
but liter-ally
be living letters for all to read with clearer understanding

Creation is groaning for our revealing
While the chic and powerful of this age ignore us
The long-gone cloud of witnesses gone before us implore us
To gain the prize, not being wise in our own eyes
but with a gaze galvanized on Christ
And not on the throw-away plans of a life
where we strive to be liked
Right, like don’t settle for more what’s like discipleship light


This up and coming generation.
It's time to get pumped up about what's coming up.
It should  give us holy goosebumps to know we are not just lumped
together with umpteen generations of students and teens
but we're unparalleled and unique!
God's end times go-to group. This genre of WhatsApp and GoPro gals and gents
bent on capturing  life on the go
Pro-moting the Savior
And acknowledging the call to go to all who don't know
That's something we have to do.
It's too urgent not to, bro.

God will give us the know-how
to make him known as we live sold out and solely for His renown.
That's what's going down.
So no, man, do I plan on napping when God is mappingout so many amazing things that are about to be happening.  Now.

Eat and Wake Up

Christmas budgets are most likely a bit higher in France than other places in the world. Not because shopping at FNAC, which is France’s answer to Best Buy, is any more expensive to purchase that iPad or bluetooth speaker. It’s because while other people are putting out only cookies and milk for Santa on the night of Christmas Eve, the French are spreading the table with some of the most expensive stuff you can find in the grocery store.

When the clock strikes twelve and a lot of the world is hunkering down under the covers to get a few hours of shuteye before the kiddos rouse themselves at the crack of dawn, in France, the party’s  just getting started. The Christmas Eve meal is the culinary highlight of the year for most French families. This is when they celebrate Le Reveillon, meaning "awakening" or "wake up", because it starts sometime close to midnight and normally goes on until the wee hours of the morning.

The whole family is expected to come together (historically after the Christmas mass - back in the day) to slowly and methodically plow through course after course coming out of the kitchen. And they really know how to flash their gastronomical savoir-faire, those French. A sampling of what eventually makes it’s way onto your plate before the night is done would be:  

Appetizer: caviar and oysters;

First course: foie gras (think really expensive and unbelievably fatty Underwood liverwurst spread)  and lobster;

Second course: escargot and scallops (also known as Coquille Saint-Jacques - just because it sounds more cool);

Main course: roast turkey with chestnut stuffing and some other type of wild bird; (like goose, pheasant, quail or guinea fowl);

Cheese course:  a variety of expensive and beautifully aged bleu, hard, soft and goat cheeses served with bread and nuts; and

Dessert: Buche de Noel - the traditional Christmas dessert which is basically a rich chocolate cake wrapped up into the shape of a Yule Log

If you ask me, finding a roll of Tums in your stocking late Christmas morning might be a necessity after a meal that rich. But it’s also true that good food and great memories go hand in hand in the land of Oh la la. And I think they may have got something right here.

A meal that long and that diverse is bound to have all sorts of great conversations, laughter and memories attached to it. It can maybe even bring a greater and truer satisfaction than any floor strewn all too quickly with ribbon, torn boxes and hastily shredded wrapping paper. In other words, big budget or not, it’s probably worth every penny (or sous, as the case may be).

When Giving Thanks is Costly

This year I had the assignment of going to our friendly supermarket to order a turkey. This was in preparation to host all the field staff working with our mission in France for a big Thanksgiving meal. There is no frozen turkey section in the grocery stores here, so.turkeys must be ordered in advance for them to come whole - and they don’t come frozen. Usually they come wrapped loosely in plastic and placed in a cardboard box. This is probably just as good, because I remember once years ago when we were rookie turkey chefs and we we didn’t begin thawing the frozen turkey early enough. It eventually would come out of the oven nice and done, but not before our hands were raw, and would be for days afterward, due to our vigorous massaging of the turkey under water in order  to get it to soft enough to cook.

My main goal this time in ordering the bird was to make sure it would yield enough meat to feed all our guests.  Satisfied that I chosen well, I left the store last week with my pink copy of the order slip. Unfortunately, I never thought to check the price per kilogram, just glad that we would have a bird in time. So yesterday when I returned to pick up the turkey, the butcher put it on the scale and rang it up. I did a double take and about doubled over when I saw the price - 75 euros!  That’s right folks. The privilege of asking for white, dark or drumstick this year is going to cost us about the price of a hotel room.

I remember another Thanksgiving where having a turkey on Thanksgiving was probably even more costly to someone. When we were living in Bangladesh, turkeys were not something available in stores. This particular year,  a pastor was coming to visit and decided to bless us by bringing a turkey in his suitcase. He packed the bag with dry ice, put the turkey inside and hoped it would stay cold all the way through the 22 hour flight from the U.S. His hopes of sneaking the meat product through customs seemed to be dashed as he watched his suitcase come down the baggage claim belt and noticed a layer of frost had formed on the outside of his suitcase because of the dry ice. He imagined a scowling customs agent tipped off by his frosty suitcase, fining him for having commited a "fowl". He tried not to look suspicious as he exited the airport and fortunately, the turkey did not get confiscated and made it safely to the Thanksgiving table that year.

It’s amazing what lengths we will go to have the trappings we associate with giving thanks. But the reality is that I don’t need a turkey to be thankful. And there are many other things we might enjoy or think we need to adequately thank God.  Polished worship bands, expensive presentation software, complex lighting systems, and even smoke machines in many churches help set the atmosphere for thanking God in worship. But the most costly thing in giving thanks is not the stuff we do it with. It’s always when we pay the price necessary for getting our hearts into an attitude of humble and sincere gratitude. That’s still the price God sees as a worthwhile investment.

Call Waiting

On July 14th, France’s National Day, better known as Bastille Day, we were trying to enjoy an impromptu picnic at Grenoble’s Parc Mistral. A handful of us had gathered on the dry cement of a local  monument, playing cards as we waited for the fireworks to start. It had been raining off and on all day, and a recent break in the weather had given us hope that the annual municipal  “feu d’artifice” display would go through as planned. But as we waited, a last minute deluge just before dusk sent everyone scurrying for cover.  We reluctantly headed home, disappointed that after hours of waiting, we would not see any fireworks this year after all.

Little did we know, that 380 kilometers away in Nice, there would be those that evening whose  enjoyment of fireworks would end in something far more horrible than disappointment. A different kind of dark cloud loomed over this gathering of families and children, that would also see people fleeing for cover but cast a sickening and horrible dark pall over the festivities of an entire nation.  Ironically, if the fireworks in that city had been cancelled as it was in ours, a tragedy might possibly have been avoided.  But instead, as the smoke of the last fireworks dissipated in the clear coastal skies over the Promenade des Anglais, hatred in the form of a man and a large rented truck prematurely ended the lives of 83 innocent people and seriously wounded scores more.

The carnage was nearly incomprehensible. As many bodies lay motionless, strewn here and there in the wake of the attack, one off-duty paramedic instinctively tried to get to those who urgently needed medical care. But he was held back by police who had created a perimeter around the scene, fearing that the vehicle which had just torn through the crowd could be full of explosives and go off at any time. He shared how he began hearing a faint chorus of unanswered cell-phones, their the blue light from the screens eerily illuminating the darkness from the pockets and purses of the deceased.

One can only imagine the feelings of desperation and dread of family and friends on the other end of those unsuccessful phone calls quickly alerted through news and social media of what had just happened. As I thought of these loved ones, I also couldn’t help but make the comparison to God’s attempts in these trying days to reach out to France. Like a loving Father, he too is desperate to connect with those who are exposed to the attacks of an enemy. But too often, those He loves and wishes to speak to are unable to hear His call because the events of life have rendered them unresponsive and spiritually dead.

What is is that holds me back from rushing to the aid of those who lay numb and immovable in their personal pain and agony?  During danger and crisis, many people run away as they go into self-preservation mode. But for those called and trained to rescue and heal, there is no place for fear, indifference or inaction in the face of tragedy. We are surrounded every day by victims of a real and relentless devil who is raging in his attempts to indiscriminately kill and destroy. And it should break our hearts, as it does God’s, that His calls offering help and concern go mostly unanswered.