My Sovereign, Almighty King,

Creator of the universe, author and perfecter of faith, righteous ruler of nations, administrator of justice, God of compassion, and shepherd of mercy; to you and you alone will I surrender. My country has called and commissioned me to set my feet on an ancient dividing line that has long separated people, tribes, clans, nations and faiths from each other. This line may also divide people from you, and from the possibility of peace with each other. But I believe that peace is possible when justice is restored, so I commit myself before you to be your ambassador of peace.

Surround our commanders and those who direct our actions, with accurate information and wise counsel. Protect them from chasing after the mirage of peace based on an absence of war, but instead, grant them the courage to procure a lasting peace that is based on the truth of fortifying this nation from tyranny. Read more

In Romans 12 Paul pleads with his audience of Jews and Gentiles to offer themselves to God as holy, living sacrifices. Up to this point in the epistle much has been said about faith, about God's merciful salvation, and the new resurrection life found in Christ. However, for those who desire to live in the freedom of Christ, there is the necessary giving up of self that must follow.

This is where Romans 12 digs into the implications of dying with Christ. Those who die with Christ are offering themselves to God, much like Jesus offered himself to the Father.

An offering of self is far more costly than we may have ever imagined. The rest of Romans 12 calls believers to use their gifts, to love one another deeply and sacrificially, and to treat enemies with kindness and respect. This is impossible for those committed to their own preservation and reputation. Read more

When I was growing up, my father was in the Air Force so I've lived all over the United States and in several countries overseas. I've moved more than forty times, but lost count somewhere after thirty-five. America is home, yet it's not really "home." Being born on foreign soil in Morocco, Africa, I held dual citizenship until I was fifteen, which only adds to my anxiety about where I am truly from. I am American, but feel foreign. I am from everywhere, but hail from nowhere. I've lived in every quadrant of the country, so if you are from the Midwest, so am I.

"You're from Des Plaines! Were you ever able to keep lightning bugs alive in a jar overnight?"

"I hear you're from Tennessee. Did you know that my favorite burger place in all the world is White Castle just outside of Nashville? We used to buy burgers there for a dime."

"Pismo Beach, California...don't you just love the melody of the ocean when it sings you to sleep at night?" Read more

In midst of moving and selling our house, I've been facing the nature of living by faith and what it's supposed to look like. While I desire to obey God's lead, I also don't want to take reckless steps under the false assumption that God is leading me into them.

For me, living by faith includes listening for the voice of God, hearing God's direction, and then obeying. Sometimes we hear God speak through scripture as we read it, but other times we quiet ourselves in moments of prayer, allowing God to communicate with us.

It's not quite possible to obey God unless you know what God desires. We can't know what God desires unless we pray and immerse ourselves in the biblical narrative. Therefore, integrating these practices are two key components to living by faith. Read more

Heated debate continues to rage among historians as to the religious heritage of the men who drafted the Constitution of the United States. Secular historians are adamant that most were Deists having no more religion than an occasional glance at a passive, disinterested supreme being. This position infuriates Christians who are equally convinced that most of the signers were, instead, committed believers who intentionally established a constitution that was based upon principles found in the Bible.

As facts and proof-texts fly back and forth between the battling scholars, it becomes easy to lose the underlying issue which spawned the debate in the first place. Some well-intentioned Christians assume that if they can prove the religious commitment of America's founding fathers, secular Americans would be forced to accept Biblical standards for social order and moral conduct. With that return to societal absolutes; America would, again, become the "Christian" nation it was at its birth. On their side, secular historians have overreacted and distorted the honorable legacy of America's forefathers.

Would affixing the proper religious heritage to the writers of the constitution impel America's citizens to modify their behavior? The sad reality is, that even if God, Himself, scripted a perfect constitution for this nation, America would be no more "Christian" than it was at its founding. Determining the persuasion of the authors of a document written over two hundred years ago will not correct the moral decay in America today. Even if the entire nation was convinced that each of the founding fathers were godly men, America would not cease its current decline.

John Winthrop ignited America's passion for purpose when he proclaimed that America would become a "city set on a hill" to whom the world would look for inspiration. The early arrivers burned with the desire to mark out their own destiny, yet were well aware that their destiny depended upon unity with those around them. Americans were unique. They were many; yet they were one. They were individualists, but together built one of the greatest nations the world has ever known. Read more

Norman English was seven years old in August 1940 and lived adjacent to a Royal Air Force base in England. Bombs fell from German aircraft on and around the base often as the anti-aircraft guns returned fire. To a child it was very exciting:

"We used to sit on the fence for a grandstand view of the action! Until the adults came on the scene and sent us down to the shelter. I remember vividly, the vapour trails in the sky and watching dogfights in the sunny clear skies during the Battle of Britain. During the war living where we did, we were bombed, parachute land mined, aerial torpedoed, doodle bugged, and finally V2 rockets. Some of my school chums and their parents were killed."

"One aircraft machine gunned our road then dropped a bomb which blew up the gas main, and destroyed Banfields the greengrocers on the corner, and smash(ed) the water main --- with the huge fire of the gas main and with the water filling both sides of the road and flooding the gutters."

"It was not long after the all clear was sounded that all the children in the road were paddling along the gutters and towing their toy boats behind them! All this within 20 minutes or so of being bombed and machine gunned." Read more

Colorado Springs, circa 1970

Lightning flashes across the night sky of our Rocky Mountain hideaway. It is quickly followed by a boom of thunder that rattles the wafer thin windows of the old barn in Glen Eyrie where I am staying at a girl's summer camp. Rain pounds overhead on the tin roof and we can barely hear each other talk above the roar. A branch cracks outside followed by a thump as it hits the ground. The lights in the barn immediately go out. Terrified teen girls shriek, as only they can; piercing all the way through to my soul making my teeth itch. In between heaven's predictable contractions, the girls race to the safety of their cabin rooms and quickly bury themselves in their sleeping bags.

Being in the mountains during a thunderstorm has a beautiful terror all its own. Everything feels closer, more powerful, and more threatening. Even God feels that way. Read more

Despite the fact that everything around us is still calm and serene, this is Bryan's domain; so I figure I better listen to him. Within minutes of Bryan's command to run, lightning flashes across the sky followed by a low growl of thunder. A storm is rolling in.

The wind picked up on the sea, and the disciples contended with all their might against the fierce winds that assailed them and the water that filled up their boat. The fact that they feared for their lives indicates that the raging storm was no ordinary one. Despite their years of experience, they were losing their battle against the waves and the ship was in real danger of sinking.

Where did that thunder come from? I wonder, as I urge my legs to hop to and hurry up. My heart races, but it's hard to tell if it's from running, the altitude, or the fear of being hit by lightning. The wind picks up. The sky grows dark, and our outdoor commander begins issuing emergency bulletins from the front as we huff and puff our way out of the brush.

"In the event that you sense any static, drop to the ground immediately, "Bryan instructs. "And keep forty feet of distance between you and another person at all times." Read more

A while back I had the privilege of joining Suzie Slonaker, Dr. Tony Campolo, Dr. Paul Louis Metzger, Clark Blakeman, and about 20 others for dinner at the Aquariva Restaurant just south of downtown Portland, Oregon. The funny thing about meeting at a hip restaurant on a Monday evening is -- you just about own the place. To say the least, we didn't have a problem hearing each other. And that's a good thing.

     The discussion over dinner was how we, as followers of Jesus Christ, can be more intentional about loving "the least of these." Suzie and her staff and volunteers and supporters at REACH Ministries are champions at doing just that. Their mission, through the love of Jesus, is to extend compassionate care to those affected by HIV/AIDS and all life-threatening illnesses and situations.   I wish I could share a video or audio recording of Monday evening's discussion. It was lively, engaging, challenging -- and deeply resonated with me at every turn.   At the dinner, Suzie shared this prayer from Mother Teresa. The words of this prayer continue to haunt me:  

Deliver me, O Jesus, From the desire of being loved, From the desire of being extolled, From the desire of being honored, From the desire of being praised, From the desire of being preferred, From the desire of being consulted, From the desire of being approved, From the desire of being popular,   Deliver me, O Jesus, From the fear of being humiliated, From the fear of being despised, From the fear of suffering rebukes, From the fear of being slandered, From the fear of being forgotten, From the fear of being wronged, From the fear of being ridiculed, From the fear of being suspected.   Amen.

     If you google "David Sanford" or "If God Disappears," you'll find a wide assortment of rants and raves. Just remember there is more than one "David Sanford" in the world! Still, I've received a lot of harsh words over the past decade and a half since the Internet first went public. I talk about those harsh, angry words in my new book -- knowing, as I wrote it, that I would receive plenty more. Read more

McDonald's is offering free mochas again this Monday. Every day, Jesus Christ offers much, much more. The following story is from my good friend Ann Dunagan, a missionary, homeschool mom, and author of several excellent books:

Last Friday morning, I woke up to an urgent phone call regarding a troubled teenage girl. She'd run away from home, been found wandering along the highway, barefoot, and she'd been "cutting" herself again.

Ugh.

God's "grace" for me to keep helping this girl was running thin . . . and wearing me out.

Earlier in the year, I had prayed with this 16-year-old to receive Christ, she'd been baptized, and our family had been attempting to bring her to church, whenever we could. I knew she'd had a problem before with "cutting" herself, and I knew I needed assistance with her situation, more desperately than ever.

More than anything, I knew this girl needed help at home, and so did her mother.

Quite a few times, I had attempted to talk with the girl's mom about God, but she was totally resistant. Our home group had been praying for her for about a year, with seemingly no headway. Any invitation to attend church was totally rejected. Besides working at Wal-Mart and buying necessities, this mom had kept herself practically locked-up alone in her trailerpark home for years, consumed with the idea that she couldn't go to a church because she couldn't be around people.

As I hung up up the phone and began praying, I felt very specifically that it was the day for this woman to return to the Lord. There was such an urgency in my heart, and it was amazing. I felt like God gave me a specific little mission. I called her up and invited her to coffee, so we could talk for a few minutes about her daughter.

Later that afternoon, we met at a little coffee shop a few minutes from this lady's home. With love and frankness, I shared, once again, about her need for God's help and salvation. But this time, her reaction was totally different. In less than ten minutes (and before she'd taken more than a sip or two from her mocha), this hardened woman was weeping and surrendering to the Lord. She began to reminisce about songs from her childhood days in Sunday school, and how she knew that I was right.

On Sunday morning, this woman did something she hadn't done for years. She brought her daughter to church, and at the end of the service, both mom and daugher came forward and were kneeling at the altar of our church, and hugging each other with tears streaming down their faces. Both wanted to come back to church, and the the mom even hung around afterward to talk and to meet people. I'm serious, this was totally a MIRACLE!!! God totally changed this woman's heart, and he set her free.

And God is going to help this woman with her daughter (and at last, I have just the right person to help bring this teenager to church!).

So, if the Lord prompts you to witness or to share with someone, step out and obey. You never know what awesome things God may do. This whole outing lasted only about 45 minutes, including the driving from my home and ordering at the counter . . . but it totally made my week!

The lectionary readings for July 19 all hinge on two images. The dominant image is of the house of God. But sheep/shepherd imagery also abounds, especially in the alternate texts for the day. Let's see how it all comes together.

In 2 Samuel 7, David realizes that he has a beautiful "house of cedar," but the ark of God dwells in a tent. He tells the prophet Nathan, "Look, this is backward. I'm going to build God a house."

And God tells Nathan to tell David, "I've never asked for a house--and I don't want one from you. Rather, I will establish your house, just as I took you from the pasture and made you shepherd of my people." Read more

An evening light show erupts in the bushes as we drive up the unfamiliar driveway. Laser lights randomly flash on and off, beckoning me into the backyard. Blink, blink, blink. What on earth? Tiny mag-lights dart spasmodically around the yard, playing hide and seek in the bushes. No, not mag-lights - lightning bugs! I haven't seen one since we left Illinois in 1971, and had forgotten about them, but they haven't forgotten me. Here they are welcoming me back to the Midwest - beacons of hospitality blinking, "Hello," while pointing my way back to the past.

Thirty-five years have passed since I last looked over one of the cities of my childhood. Farms, suburbs, and expressways compress to fill the tiny window next to my seat on the airplane as I search for something familiar. Water towers that look like tiny mushrooms strategically dot the landscape marking out each of Chicago's west side suburbs.

Seven presidents have come and gone since I was here. Vietnam finally ended and Shannon's prisoner-of-war father returned home a hero. Nixon resigned because of Watergate and Lady Diana Spencer married Prince Charles; later presenting him with the proverbial "heir and a spare." The Berlin Wall fell amid joyous celebration, while AIDS ominously rose from within our own borders. Millions died. Diana died. Fax machines transported documents over phone lines, the internet invaded, and we turned the calendar on a new millennium. America miraculously survived the Y2K bug in 2000, only to be attacked by terrorists just one year later on September 11th, 2001. Read more

For today's lectionary reflection I offer something a little different, a guided meditation of sorts on the Old Testament reading and the psalm.

It is a day of great rejoicing.

You and thousands upon ten thousands of your kindred, descendants of Jacob, have marched since daybreak, when you set out for Kiriath-jearim to gather up the ark of the Lord and bring it to the new capital, the city of David, the city of peace, Jerusalem.

You had never seen the ark before, and the sight reduced you to tears.

You'd heard the stories your whole life. Your mother told them to you, as her mother had told them to her. She described the carved acacia wood, the gold leafing, the cherubim whose wings of hammered gold extended over the ark to form the mercy seat, the very throne of the Lord of hosts. And inside lay the tablets of the law, tablets etched by the very finger of God, the God of the covenant that bound you and your kindred to him forever.

But even in your imaginings, you never dreamed how beautiful it would be, how powerful. At the sight of it, you fell to your knees, weeping.

The king sensed its power, too: before he had gone seven paces, he stopped and sacrificed an ox and a fatling. The stench of burning animal flesh filled your nose, your mouth, and it did not gag you. It was the sweet smell of incense, the perfume of holiness. You raised your hands to the sky in praise of God's glory and let the smoke and the scent wash over you.

The ark now rides before the throng on a new cart, pulled by oxen. You follow behind, you and your tens of thousands of kindred. You shout with them as they chant the words of holy songs.

Lift up your heads, O gates!
and be lifted up, O ancient doors!
that the King of glory may come in.

You listen to the lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets. Perhaps you have a tambourine in your hand and you shake it as you sing. Perhaps you dance a little in the throng, your feet happily tapping against the hard earth. Perhaps you even catch sight of the king, and you laugh because he is dancing, too, his priest's robe flapping as he whirls around, zany with joy.

Who is the king of glory?
The Lord, strong and mighty,
the Lord, mighty in battle.

You sing and dance and laugh and cry all the way back to Jerusalem. And there you and your kindred cry out again:

Lift up your heads, O gates!
and be lifted up, O ancient doors!
that the King of glory may come in.

The bearers carry the ark into the city and a trumpet rings out one pure, clear note as they set the ark inside the tent the king had prepared for it.

The king, still wearing his priest's ephod, offers more sacrifices-burnt offerings to recognize with gratitude God's goodness and a spontaneous offering of well-being simply because he cannot contain his joy.

You cannot contain your joy either. You embrace those around you, flinging your arms around friend and stranger alike. In this moment you know they are all your kindred, your father's children, your brothers, your sisters.

The king distributes food for you, for everyone-bread and meat and raisin cakes-and he raises his hands and blesses you:

Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord?
And who shall stand in his holy place?
Those who have clean hands and pure hearts!
They will receive blessing from the Lord,
vindication from the God of our salvation,
favor from the King of glory! Read more

On the Fourth of July we celebrate Independence Day, the day our founding fathers signed the Declaration of Independence and committed themselves irreversibly to a cause for which they truly risked their lives and fortunes. As with all of history, this great event now has a certain sense of inevitability about it. We know now what happened, and it seems that it was ‘meant to be.' Only when we go back and look at the details, however, do we see how uncertain this seminal event was and how God's hand was involved in it.

The Continental Congress in 1776
During the early months of 1776 representatives from the American colonies continued a protracted and frustrating dispute with King George and the British Parliament. After armed conflict at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill the year before, a tense stalemate had developed around Boston. The king had rejected the so-called Olive Branch Petition, approved by Congress in 1775, and had declared the colonies to be in a state of rebellion. British reinforcements continued to arrive in Boston. The situation seemed to be growing worse as the tenuous military stalemate went on in Massachusetts and problems mounted keeping a colonial army in the field.

There was also a stalemate within the Continental Congress between radical and conservative factions. The radicals talked of independence from England and formation of a new nation. The conservatives favored efforts to redress grievances and return to ‘normal' times. There was a great fear of war and probable ruin, and continued expectation of reconciliation. The conservative approach had prevailed so far during the Congress' deliberations, even to the point where delegates from six colonies were under specific instructions to vote against independence. Read more

Governor Mark Sanford and Senator John Ensign recently joined a sad list of public figures who have failed morally. I only have to mention former President Bill Clinton, former Gov. Elliot Spitzer, various mayors, police chiefs, a former CEO of Boeing, military recruiters, senior classmen at the Air Force Academy, prison guards, pastors, counselors, junior and high school teachers, (male and female) for us to recognize the breadth of this problem.

Talking about sex, power and public failure isn't a pleasant, feel good topic, especially in Christian circles. But it must be talked about, especially as too many who publically claim to uphold "family values" don't. This topic is not academic or irrelevant, it is for every red-blooded man or woman, Christian or not. It needs to be addressed because when we practice behaviors that are inappropriate, we are putting our reputation and career on the line, as well as the well-being of those who love and trust us.

Most of all, we are tearing down the dwindling credibility Christians have in our culture as people who live by a different moral code because we know and love God. Read more

I hate to exercise. Truly, that's not an exaggeration. I hate it. Strange, because my husband, three boys, and daughter-in-law all love it. They find it exhilarating - even stress relieving, but I don't. I find it tedious, taxing and boring beyond belief.

The apartment complex we live in has an onsite gym so I can use any kind of work-out equipment I want. Shortly after we moved in, I went in every day for two weeks to do the gym thing and separated a rib from my sternum. The pain was so bad, I thought I was having a heart attack, but no; the doctor assured me it was just too much exercise. Thank goodness for that! I quit that ill-fated nonsense immediately.

Looks like walking will be the safest choice for me. So, I commit myself to walking...in Oregon...where it rains more days than the sun shines. I buy a pedometer, a heart rate monitor, and a new pair of shoes. Steven gives me his old IPod, so now I need to get an arm band to carry everything. Getting my stuff together and strapped on my body takes just long enough to reconsider and find something more interesting to do, like play one more game of spider solitaire on the computer - anything to avoid the inevitable!

Well, when all the excuses run out and I'm hooked up and ready to go, I set out for my morning walk. Around here, it's more like an hour of dodging worms, slugs, and non-caffeinated workers on their daily pilgrimage to Starbucks. Read more

Jerry Oncken's father joined the Army in 1944, a few months after she was born. After basic training he was sent to the war zone in Italy where he served for two years. Jerry had memories of getting together with other service families and playing with the other children. She also remembered her mother's letters that she always sealed with a freshly applied lipstick kiss. On one occasion Jerry was allowed to wet her own mouth with orange juice and apply an ‘orange juice kiss.' She had generally pleasant memories of her wartime experience because her mother was so good at sheltering her from the tension and anxiety that she experienced. She did clearly remember the day her father came home:

At last the day arrived when my father was due to come home. Yes, he had survived combat and the attendant challenges of being away from home and family for so long. I was staying with my grandparents while Mom went to the train station to pick him up. When they arrived, I was upstairs in my grandparents' bath tub. I remember hearing large footsteps bounding up the stairs two at a time, followed by this tall, young man entering the bathroom. To this day I can vividly hear my grandmother saying "This is your daddy." He grabbed me out of the tub, and we began our bonding process that had been delayed for more than two years.

We know that there were many unhappy endings to family separations during this and every other war. That fact is what makes this heartwarming story of reunion so uplifting. We have a little reminder from history, if we need it, of how precious our families are. We should look at them every day with the eyes of a returning soldier and a long-separated daughter. Read more

An old allegory came home with added force one summer evening.  My daughter Shawna, her little brother Jonathan, and two little friends of theirs were strolling with me through the neighborhoods surrounding our home outside downtown Portland, Oregon.

            The kids--as kids will do--decided to make our walk an adventure.  "Let's look for bugs on the ground," Shawna suggested, and they all began to scan the ground for signs of life. 

            I'm not sure where all the other insects were, but the kids found evidence of subterranean ant colony after ant colony in various cracks in the old, pre-World War I sidewalks.  Curiosity soon gave way to mischief, however, so I had to ask the kids not to squish unsuspecting ants with their fingers and sandaled feet.  Read more

The theme that unites the lectionary passages for June 28 is generosity. The word comes from the Latin generosus, which means "noble, magnanimous." And that word ‘magnanimous' comes from the Latin words magnus (great) and animus (soul): a large soul, one that overflows into the lives of others, particularly the lives of rivals or the less fortunate.

That sort of generosity--large-heartedness, if you will--appears in all of this week's passages.

In 2 Samuel, David laments the death of King Saul. This is the same Saul who was David's most bitter enemy, who tried repeatedly to kill him, who went to war against him. Yet David sings of him, "Your glory, O Israel, lies slain...O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you with crimson, in luxury, who put ornaments of gold on your clothes." He generously overlooks the harm Saul did to him and instead focuses on his rival's own generosity and goodness. Read more

My life is full of meaningful relationships. In a typical week I probably meet with four or five friends for a quick latte to catch up on their latest and swap the stories of our lives. These friends are a significant part of my daily life, and traveling the pilgrim road with them lightens my load making the journey much more fun!  

Equally significant, but so very different, is another group of friends that serves as shepherds or mentors to me. Often older than I, their influence has been strategic and life-changing. I have been blessed to have many mentors come and go in my life and offer their encouragement, vision, and wisdom. These are the people I can never spend enough time with, and when they are gone; I grieve for the most. 

This week I lost a man who called me back to the faith I had abandoned my freshman year of high school. He was determined that I not waste a minute more of my life on empty pursuits and selfish ambition, so he began to challenge me. Not intimidated at all by my rebellion, he jumped into the center of my storm and offered me hope that God would never leave me or forsake me. He assured me that God's plan for my life was good, and he was right.  Thirty-two years later, he's still right!

Beach Graffitti is dedicated to my high school youth sponsor. Read more