Faith

Apology Accepted, Access Denied

I saw this phrase during my morning scroll, and it made me pause. As a Christian, I lean into the forgiving part. The “access denied” part is harder to admit, but I’ve made peace with it — mostly.

I met Jerry (not his real name) through my online business, back when I was cobbling together a living after a post-9/11 layoff and the birth of our 4th child. He was sharp, helpful, and seemed to want what I wanted. That last part turned out to be the problem.

Jerry was one of those people.

Over nearly two decades, Jerry talked me into several business ventures. Some I was smart enough to avoid. Others, I wasn’t. The pattern was always the same — he’d find the angle that sounded like it worked for both of us, and I’d believe him, because he was genuinely convincing. My wife saw it before I did. She usually does.

The last venture was the one that finally clarified things. He connected me with a job through a supplier he knew — Jerry was the manager, and Jerry’s unacknowledged nephew was the chief of operations. The nepotism ran its course, and I was the first to go. Within a week, Jerry called and suggested lunch. He managed to seem apologetic about the fact that he’d had me fired. He also handed me paperwork to sign away my right to unemployment.

My wife didn’t let that stand.

I collected every dollar. I never saw Jerry again.

Looking back, the warnings were there early. Another supplier told me Jerry had dealt with him dirty. I filed it away and kept going. That’s the thing about a skilled manipulator — he doesn’t come at you all at once. He’s a master of the long game. He stays in light contact, patient, until you have something he needs. Then he’s your best friend again.

The hardest part to admit is that I liked him. He was warm and funny and made you feel like the smartest guy in the room for listening to him. I thought I was lucky to have someone like that in my corner. I wasn’t lucky. I was useful.

Now I get occasional Facebook updates. If a customer emails about an order Jerry once fulfilled, I write him a short note. He sends curt replies. That’s what twenty years looks like when one person was paying attention, and the other one wasn’t.

In my mind, the most unbelievable part of the story is that Jerry is now a pastor.

I’ll be honest — I’ve thought about showing up at his church. Not to make a scene. Just to see whether the man preaching from the front is the same one who handed me that paperwork. He has the skills for ministry. He also had the skills for everything else.

But poking around in someone’s life after a three-year gap feels like reopening a wound that’s healed clean. Whatever apology passed between us was probably silent and probably mutual. We moved on. I genuinely hope he’s doing good work now.

I even hope we spend eternity together. I just don’t need to spend any more of my time on earth with him.

Values Don’t Retire

My wife and I are somewhere in the foothills of retirement. Not even close to the summit. There are still detours on this road, and honestly, we keep choosing them. We could draw a straight line to the finish — coast, let someone else worry about the spring weather.

But here we are, babysitting a ten-month-old and still figuring out health insurance. And I wouldn’t trade it.

Faith Is a Verb

Every time our kids gather around the table, we say a prayer. That’s not a performance — it’s just what we do. Faith comes up again before the meal’s over, usually more than once. We counsel our kids, married and unmarried, on building something with a Godly foundation. But we learned a long time ago that advice requires a listener. Acting on it? That part belongs to them.

We’re conservative Christians. We attend a church that reflects that — not perfectly, but pretty close. Our kids know where we stand. They also know we can’t believe for them. My granddaughter, as much as I adore her, will have to find her own faith someday. Her parents’ belief won’t carry her across that finish line, and neither will ours. What we can do is make sure the example exists. Doing nothing, after all, is the easiest thing in the world to imitate.

The Tangible Stuff

I’m not going to pretend grandparenting is purely a spiritual exercise. My granddaughter needs a babysitter, and I technically have “spare time” — though I’m not sure where I’m hiding it. My wife works remotely, so we tag-team diaper duty in shifts that would make any grandparent proud.

And yes — her job keeps us from raiding our savings for insurance premiums until we hit 65. These aren’t just financial decisions. They’re the quiet argument I make every day to my kids without saying a word: this is what showing up looks like.

Respect Isn’t Political

Everyone has value. The prisoner. The foster kid. The garbage man. We did foster care for six years — that wasn’t a hobby, it was a conviction. The political lines blur for me here. But the bottom line is simple: treat me and my country with respect, and I’ll meet you with kindness. As a Christian, at a minimum, I owe you a prayer. We’re all sinners. Just not all saved.

Generosity Without the Receipt

Could I give more? Absolutely — most of us could, and I’d be a fool to claim otherwise. We give to causes, including our church. Our kids know we give. They don’t need to know the number. The impression matters more than the invoice.

Commitment Is the Whole Game

Marriage is the biggest bet most people will ever place. We’re honest with our kids about it: it’s not easy. It requires two people willing to grow up and reckon with the fact that their decisions now affect someone else’s life, too. We hold an old-fashioned view on this. A marriage with a Christian foundation is simply better, in our experience. That’s not a lecture. It’s just what we’ve lived.

The Promotion We Didn’t Know Was Coming

Somewhere around the time your kids leave the house, you stop being a parent in the daily operational sense and get promoted — if you’re lucky — to trusted counselor. We’re hoping to earn that promotion unanimously.

We weren’t perfect parents. Our advice isn’t flawless either. But if our kids can feel the gist of how we’ve lived — if they’ve seen our convictions match our words, if they’ve watched our marriage hold — then it’ll be hard for any of them to look back and say, “Nobody told me that.”

You were told. You were shown.

We’re not trying to make our kids into copies of us. We’re trying to make sure they don’t walk into the world without a compass. Call me boring. Just don’t accuse me of raising kids who’ll make the world worse. We fought too hard for that. And if they pass something worthwhile to the next generation of Gruenbaums?

That’s the whole point of the journey.

Amen Ambassador

This is a further explanation of one of the titles included on my “semi-retired” business card. (Amen Ambassador)

I’ve been involved with a program called “Let’s Start Talking” (LST) for a good number of years now. My daughters and I even trekked to Hungary almost a decade ago for a mission trip under their banner, but my real “boots on the ground” work happens right here at my desk with my “readers.”

What exactly is a “reader”? In my case, it’s a revolving door of international men who want to polish their English. Before COVID, this involved actual human contact at coffee shops or libraries. These days, it’s mostly me staring at a webcam. We use LST materials that cleverly disguise English challenges—like the dreaded verb conjugation—inside biblical lessons on sin, grace, and salvation.

I’ve worked with men from Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Vietnam, and Ecuador(all pre-Covid and in person). I’ve learned about their customs, tasted their food, and generally enjoyed the “armchair traveler” lifestyle. I did have one female reader from Hungary once (early-Covid), but that taught me a lesson in boundaries. She was preparing for marriage and telling me things about her fiancé that made me want to bail out of the conversation. I figured any marital advice she needed should come from a woman, not me. I arranged a “handoff” to a female teacher, but she apparently wasn’t a fan of the trade. She never showed up again, though I see her on Facebook with a baby now, so she clearly survived my attempt at mentorship.

The Current Roster I currently have three regulars. They are all academically driven, though their personalities couldn’t be more different:

  • The Long-Hauler (Asia): I’m keeping his specific country a mystery to avoid any international incidents. We’ve been at this for five years. I’ve “walked” with him through a doctorate in Europe and watched his son grow up via pixels. We spend 40 minutes talking about everything from personal pictures to politics before I “cherry-pick” devotions that contain enough big words to keep him on his toes.
  • The Enthusiast (Brazil): He’s been around for about four years. He is the walking definition of the Brazilian stereotype—emotional, enthusiastic, and loud. He’s met my granddaughter on Zoom (he asks about her every call), and I’ve met his mother. She doesn’t speak a lick of English, but she’s promised me a world-class meal if I ever show up in her kitchen. He is a fantastic, high-energy contrast to my more reserved Asian reader.
  • The Academic (Poland): He started with me in high school and is now a university student. He’s an only child who passionately describes every meal and movie in his life. Because of the age gap, I have to work a little harder to stay “relatable” (pray for me). He’s Catholic by heritage but mostly just a moral guy with no real interest in faith. I keep showing up anyway. Even if the conversations aren’t always “deep,” we both usually learn something by the time the timer hits zero.

The Logistics of Grace Aside from “showing up,” the hardest part of being an Amen Ambassador is basic math. Keeping track of time zones is a nightmare. Europe changes their clocks on a different schedule than the US, and my Asian and Brazilian readers don’t change their clocks at all. I much prefer the 9:00 AM meetings over the 8:00 AM ones—mostly because my brain functions significantly better with that extra hour of blood waking it up.

Could I do more? Probably. But at this stage, my wife and I have agreed that our own kids and grandkids are our primary mission field. We’re working to give them a foundation that won’t crack when life gets messy. If I’m held to account on the other side of the grave, I’ll be fine knowing my family came before any other “mission goals” I might have entertained.

God might have other things He’d like us to take on, and those may have to live in the “regret” folder of my mind for now. But I refuse to let my family be part of any regret.

Sermon Resolution

Today’s sermon reminded me how important it is to have a minimum weekly dose of straight-talk preaching. At times in my spiritual past, I inhaled multiple sermons daily over the internet. Of late, I have either decided I don’t need that much, or I have allowed my worldly priorities to shove the sermons down the list far too many notches.  I need to do better. I need to listen to less Spotify playlist and more Christ-focused sermons.

This may not qualify as a “resolution”, but it certainly should be a STRONG encouragement for me to trend in a more God-centered direction. Wherever Flight #2022 takes us, I want to end the flight, quoting more scripture and reciting less from the news networks. Our “Pilot” doesn’t need a co-pilot. I need to do a better job letting my life reflect that. 

Take On The Challenge

As I was nearing the end of my walk today at the park, a boy on a scooter approached me.  As I tried to figure out what side of the sidewalk he was going to take, he uttered, “Are you going to take on the challenge?” before slowly surfing down the paved hill.  It was clear what his challenge was–he was going to see how far he could coast without pushing off.  My challenge was a little less clear.  So, the kid forced me to think…

  • What are you going to do today in trade for another day of life?
  • Who did you make feel better about themselves today?
  • Were you a helper or someone who avoided helping those who needed it?
  • Did you show those you loved that you cared for them today?  Do you need to have a bigger list so you are more challenged?
  • Did you laugh today?  Did you make someone else laugh?
  • Did you feel empathy for someone who hurts? (Preferably someone you know personally.  There is a spectrum of hurt–it can land anywhere on that spectrum.)
  • What did you do today that will be remembered tomorrow?  For how many tomorrows will it still be remembered?
  • Do you think you were more good than bad today?
  • What reward do you think your opinion deserves?

It seems I have come to a point where I am challenging you to think about where you will spend eternity.  Am I allowed to do that?  Could it hurt someone’s feelings?  In the past, forcing a person to think about their eternity was effective.  In the present, a discussion about eternity could trigger someone.  If anyone is curious about the hereafter and what you can do now to affect your eternity, please contact me on the contact form for this site.

Gender What?

As I recently looked at the “disclaimer” at the bottom of listing on the Monster job site, I saw this in the footer of the job posting….

As an AA/EEO employer, “INSERT NAME OF INSTITUTE OF HIGHER LEARNING HERE” recruits, hires, and promotes qualified persons in all job classifications without regard to age, race, color, religion, sex, sexual orientation, gender, gender identity, gender expression, national origin, ethnic origin, disability, genetic information, covered veteran status, or any other basis protected by law. 

I guess my old-fashion-ness is showing, but the words “orientation”, “expression” and “identity” seem a little hard to nail down.  It would seem any questioning of a persons claims associated with these words tagged on as a suffix would make virtually anything a person does part of the norm.  This is not denying the world is a crazy place and circumstances have caused crazy thoughts and patterns to occur in people’s lives.  Regardless, with all of these qualifiers, it still seems like we are bending so far over backwards to be inclusive that we have forgotten how to be clear.

Since our genes give us a our gender and we are allowed to question our genetics, it would seem unfair to not be able to change our race, age or color by a simple declaration.  Something like, “I, [state your name] declare myself to be a 30 year old, Chinese-American.” (I have no desire to change my gender, thank you.)  If someone denies me the right to make this proclamation, wouldn’t they be questioning my right to alter my orientation, expression or identity?  They may argue, “Genetically and chronologically, you can’t alter your age or race or color.”  That seems quite discriminatory.  Why can certain things “baked into the baby” be changed when other things not be changed?

I realize I am not a biologist, psychologist, or a geneticist.  I don’t have the scientific background, (beyond my 5 senses–or 4, I don’t think tasting helps unless it has something to do with spicy food.  Maybe this should be another protected class.  Spicy food can offend some people.  I officially propose adding “diet” to the list above.  The poor peanut allergy people don’t seem to be adequately protected by the disclaimer.) to assess such important things.  But, it seems science has been redefined from what it was a few years ago.  I guess the problem is the science of the past was repressive and wrong, so it was reevaluated.  (Maybe evolution and the big bang could be given the same scrutiny.)

If we are going to go all in with “disclaimers”, might I suggest the following…

  • Diet:  (see above)  Besides nut allergies, spicy food and a strict vegetarian diet can sometimes have detrimental affects on the office environment, too.  I know we are all big enough to hold our noses and not mention it, but it should be explicitly protected.
  • Heavy sweaters:  I have worked with people who fall into this category.  They took great strains to not have people made aware of this fact.  The person I am referring to worked in retail.  He changed his t-shirt multiple times per day.  The secondary effect of his sweating was attempting to control the odor.  I know this quality might not come out until a person is hired and working.  It still seems unfair not to protect them as well.
  • Religious expression:  If they endorse the behaviors of one religion and not another religion merely for practicing their faith, then it does seem inconsistent.  As a Christian, I try to be flexible with what others believe.  How far do I let other religions go in this expression?  If it is codified in a neat little generic clause like listed above, the doubters can point but the ambiguity can continue.
  • This is not really a specific add on, but maybe it would help clarify.  Is it really “law” or is it Presidential decree or proclamation?  It seems a little bold referring to all of the issues addressed in the disclaimer as “being protected by law”. (I know some of them have been for many years.  Some of them are “hitchhikers” where the law is still unclear.)  Would this be natural law?  If natural law, some of the issues mentioned above would not seem to qualify.  (Gender confusion may allow for short term peace and happiness, but it doesn’t do much for continuing the human race.)

Have I offended or bothered you?  It was not my goal, but it was an accepted possibility.  I believe we have a right to participate in a work environment that is a positive, encouraging place.  If all of the things introduced in the disclaimer above are evident in every work place, I believe there will be to much tip-toeing around trying to be inclusive.  If the thought police care more about what you think and don’t say then what is done to fulfill your job description, then maybe staying self-employed is a saner option than being obligated to “endorse” all of the above behaviors.  God, please help our country!!

 

Greetings From The Curb

When I get an idea while walking, I pull out my Iphone and attempt to capture my thoughts.  While sometimes the voice capture feature does okay, most times it leaves me a little wanting.  If I capture a note and fail to review it within a day or so, I often can’t recognize my original thought.  Today’s thought was supposed to be, “Grading on the curve”.  My chosen English female friend on my Iphone chose to record this as “greetings from the curb”.  I can blame the wind or my inability to enunciate clearly.  The point is if I were writing this next week, I might have no idea what the note was a reminder of.

Why did I feel the need to capture this thought?  I was trying to find a way to describe what God does with us.  Does God award heaven on a curve?  No.  This is assuming you have already confessed you are unable to “do” salvation on your own.  You recognize you need a Savior, and His name is Christ.  My thought comes in a post-conversion situation. (Or post being born-again or being saved or “washed in the blood”.  I hope this is completely clear what I am referring to.)

God had given us all different abilities.  He has given us different strengths and weaknesses.  He does not hold us all to the same level of service.  He wants all of our hearts and our lives.  We don’t become us thru the efforts of a cookie cutter.  We are all uniquely made and given unique talents and abilities.  We may be similar to others on the outside, but on the inside we have talents given to us by God.  These talents allow us to reach unsaved people in a variety of different ways.

As I live my life, I often ask the question, “Am I doing enough? With all of the potential I believe I have, am I doing enough to justify a “C” grade?” (Depending on another person’s ability, if they were to do what I have done, they might justify an “A”. )  So, if I am figuratively on the curb, what more can I do to give a better witness of He who gave all for me? When I get off of the curb is there a grading curve?  Are all types of witnessing good action or does God make us accountable for the decisions we make in regards to how our witnessing/evangelizing time is spent(or not spent)?

I know we don’t just get an “A” for effort.  I regularly seek God’s will, and I encourage you to do the same.  If there is a good-better-best plan for my life, I want best.  If there is a plan that involves lots of trusting God, I pray I have the ability to turn all of my fears over to my Maker. And, if there is a plan that relies on us depleting our savings and relying entirely on God, then may our kids forgive us for doing what God has asked us to do.

I know God realizes what I wrote, but do I?  I think I do, now may He put the pieces in place to allow it to occur.

 

Life Mystery

Yesterday, both my daughter and my wife informed me the girls would not be having softball practice today.  I thought that was a little odd.  The coach is pretty hardcore about practicing.  Even if the coach used running during practice time to remind the team not to make so many errors, she rarely gives up a practice  UNLESS the weather is working against her.

As I show up at the regular “no practice” pickup time, my youngest daughter comes out without her books or anything.  She let me know the reason practice was cancelled.  It turns out one of the fathers of a girl on the team had committed suicide over the weekend.  I won’t say I took this hard, but it certainly does make one wonder what brings a person to this point.  Prior to last Saturday’s game, I believe the dad had attended nearly every game.  We had talked quite a bit while watching our girls play.

He genuinely had a good heart.  At one of the games, he bought a packet of M&Ms.  He shared a few with me.  He usually stood behind the bleachers and leaned on them.  I was usually sitting on the second row from the top.  He would just talk about his softball exploits, or his time with his daughter, or whatever other random thing a middle aged dad might think to say.  He was probably less odd than me….but this still left plenty of room for him to my left.  I wasn’t the only one he talked to–he seemed to enjoy being social as he roamed the back of the bleachers talking to whoever would listen or had a thought to share.

Just last Saturday I was talking to the mother of the girl.  During the games I attended, the parents interacted and seemed to get along.  There did seem to be some distance, but I never was bold enough to ask the specifics.  Last Saturday, the mother was talking about shopping for groceries.  In context, it was appropriate to ask who she buys them for.  (I believe the specific point was with bananas.)  She said, “I only buy for myself and my daughter.”   It was at this point I was certain they were divorced, and they played nicely for the sake of their daughter.

Last night, my daughter made both my wife and I promise we would never end our lives in such a sudden way.  We assured her we would not.  The mystery of why someone would end their life in such an immediate way puts me at quite a loss.  Relationships are not always as smooth as you would like.  Finances can also be a source of frustration.  I have found that no matter how badly things may go the only consistent comfort comes from knowing God put you on this planet for a purpose.  If you are still asking that question, then God still has a purpose to reveal to you.  When hope dies, the heart often follows.

 

Old People Sunday School

After foregoing Sunday School (aka Adult Bible Class) for over a year, we finally decided to try and get in the habit again.  My daughters get “credit” for attending both church and Sunday School as part of their Christian School education, so rather than play hooky while the other mature adults gathered in their weekly groups, we decided to test the waters and join them.

As we wandered the halls seeking guidance and direction for which class to attend, we stumbled across a man who gave us some clarity.  The “portable Adult Bible Class Information desk” informed us, “This class is 30’s to 50’s.  The other class is 30’s on up.”  For some reason, we felt in an “on up” mood, so we chose to walk through the doors of this classroom.

My immediate reaction was not positive.  As my eyes did a first sweep of the crowd, I believe gray dominated every head of hair in the audience.  Additional sweeps found exceptions, but there were not many.  As we found our seats and avoided the walkers and canes, members of the class were giving their prayer requests.  In our past life, prayer requests were about aging parents and wayward children.  Most of today’s prayer requests were about hip replacements and grandchildren on mission trips.  Certainly, all prayer requests are valid.  None of the prayer requests allowed my eyes to filter out any of the gray they had already seen.

As the time to teach began, I was prepared to have the theme repeat itself.  I was ready to see old, tired people stand up front and give an obligatory lesson with a much less than inspiring message.  Fortunately, I was very disappointed.  The first person stood behind the lectern and attached his headset.  He immediately introduced his “team teacher” for the day.  The next 45 or so minutes was an interactive dialogue with good comments from the crowd.  The team teachers took enough shots at eat other to keep both the crowd interested and God happy.  

As my wife and I left, we had a nice conversation with an older couple.  (It was really all that was available.)  They let us know this was a “normal” week.  When we walked out the door, I let the primary teacher know I enjoyed it.  

Maybe we will or maybe we won’t attend this class again next week.  If we don’t, it is only because we are curious what the other classes do.  It has nothing to do with the age demographic or the amount of gray hair in the audience.  Bible Class is about studying the Bible.  If  you want to hang out with people your own age, you can go to your job or the rec center.  If you want to appreciate the book that your faith is based upon, older people are likely wiser than you and if there hearing aid is turned up, you can have a conversation! 😉

Walking With My Senses

As I was walking today, I experienced a couple things that inspired a few of my sense to higher places.  As a stroke of creative genius (or in a fit of over-inflated ego), I captured pictures of a couple of things my senses constantly seeking….

Smell

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Since we lived in Ohio, I have missed the smell of lilac.  And, while I cannot say for certain this is a lilac, it smelled LOTS like one.  It may have only temporarily hijacked my sense because my lilac-sensor was out of practice.  Regardless, whatever it was, I enjoyed it.  The aroma/scent/smell tapped into a part of my brain I have not visited for awhile.  I pictured our house in Ohio with the lilacs on the east side of the house.  I pictured my nose stretching into their blooms with my eyes closed–trying to capture the moment a little longer.

Sight

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All parts of the country (and world I am guessing) have their native wild flowers.  I don’t necessarily love just this flower while forgoing all others.  While working at my landscaping job many years ago, I took great pride in trying to memorize all of the names of the flowers sitting in the green houses at the nursery.  (My pronunciation may not have been right, but I could spell them.)   I love natures color.  And, since spring is the season worthy of queen status, I love this time of year the most.  (The wet Texas spring has certainly helped remind me how much I love it.)

Sound (No pictures here!)

When I walk, I don’t have the ear buds in.  I just like listening to whatever is there to distract me.  If I want to talk to myself, I don’t have to talk over any music.  If I want to listen to the birds or the breeze or the the bicyclist/walkers who I walk past, I can give them a smile and “hello” without trying to convince them the music (or whatever the buds are delivering) are more important-I can try to be sincerely interested in them.

Touch

A bit of a stretch here—I am not in the habit of picking up things or crawling while on my walk.  During a portion of the walk, the rains has gifted me with a partially flooded path.  As I walk thru this part of the path, I tiptoe or pick my feel up to try and avoid the wet impact my normal gait would create.  When the splash occurs, the droplets briefly run down my leg.  I only feel the first one–my mind has gone gone back to a time when walking barefoot through the water and splashing were more acceptable.  Everyone should have some memories involving water and unexpected wetness.

Taste

For some reason, I am not in the habit of picking up things and tasting them along my walk either….  Today was no exception.  Today, I had an early-stage cold coming on.  I have been brainwashed into believing using Zinc lozenges is a way to minimize the length of the colds uninvited stay.  Although my sense of taste is generally left out of the walking experience, today I tasted every bit of medicine (homeopathic, but still medicine)  before it was swallowed on its journey to whatever zinc does when it is invited by way of an oral invasion.

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Although not explicitly stated, this blog post is meant to be a little “thank you” to God.  I am blessed to have each of my senses, my thoughts, and experiences.  I don’t have to rely on a walk to be reminded of these things, but it is a pretty good catalyst.   When I separate myself from the computer and most of my electronics (the phone that almost never rings does accompany me), I gain perspective.   I am reminded of my size in comparison to the rest of creation, and I am reminded of my Creator.  So, the question is, “Do I really like to walk OR do I really just like to use all of my sense to carry on a dialogue with my Maker?”