It won't happen to me.

Two weeks ago a member of our church was using the weedeater around the front of the church and hit a rock. The rock flew up and hit the glass door that was propped open. We gave him a hard time about that for days, as you can imagine. So, since I'm so much smarter and careful than he is, I made sure when I was doing the same thing yesterday that I slowed the weedeater way down and made sure it was spinning stuff away from the door. Except that one rock...

Think anybody will notice?

No more anonymous posts.

This is to notify you that there will be no more anonymous posts on this blog. Real Dew, you're welcome. Then to illustrate the fact that there is no more anonymous posting I found this picture when I googled "anonymous pic". I hope this clears everything up.

Splodey end points thataway.

Finally shooting the Glock with my friend Brian who evidently scared out the family of Mexicans who were living in my pants. It looks like we were very depressed but actually we were looking for spent brass on our way back from the target. That's Brian's wheelgun. Conclusion? My decision to Glock was a wise one.

The Question

About 1500 miles from here, as the big silver bird flies, is a country that is in almost every way different from where we live. Their culture, clothes, language, weather, even transportation would be considered strange by our standards; not necessarily strange in a bad way but dissimilar to our norms. The beautiful country of Nicaragua welcomed eleven gringos with open arms and continued to make us feel welcome for the entire ten days we were there. While the customs agent only smiled as he did his job, almost the entire rest of the country literally had open arms for us. They are very affectionate and love to hug. We also had gifts for them as we arrived. We started with the gift of English in the form of four English classes a day tailored to the individual's level of knowledge and comfort of the language. Many could speak absolutely no English while others conversed about difficult subjects with ease, only needing some clarification of nuances and figurative meanings. All were appreciative of the gift we gave since it will be a great help in finding and keeping a good job. We soon starting working in the next and best gift which was the gift of the Gospel. Through testimony, songs, and preaching, as well as our own open lives we were able to present the Good News of Jesus to over four hundred people from kindergarten age on up. My new Nicaraguan friend Marta was well into her sixties or maybe seventies and did not know how to even say "Hello" when we started but learned not only English but also about how Jesus died for her sins and was resurrected and now waits for her in Heaven. Teenagers with bad attitudes (ok, not everything is different there) heard and accepted the free gift of English but much more importantly the free gift of eternal life with Jesus. We had approximately 100 adults and 100 teenagers come to have a life-changing relationship with Jesus Christ over the week. We gave a good gift and a great gift and asked for nothing in return but, of course, received some wonderful tokens and souvenirs as we left. The best thing we received was obviously not a tangible bauble or trinket but the incredible gift of God's revelation of Himself in our work. We did what we needed to do but God blessed it and made it worth something far more valuable. As we were preparing to leave our leader and missionary friend Jody Kennedy asked us a question. He asked us what God had revealed about Himself to us this week and also what God had revealed to us about ourselves. I didn't have an answer when he asked but I see now the answer is clear that God, in his sovereignty and power showed me that He is more of a big deal and I am less of a big deal than I have been giving us credit for. And that is a great gift.

Life's better with a sense of humor.

I recently found this little hole in the wall church that meets on Thursday nights. Last night was my third time there. I was first told it was a cowboy church and so I wanted to check it out. Turns out it is a biker church. I have been to a cowboy church before and felt like it was more about "Hey look at my hat!" than it was about Jesus but the biker church has been nothing but Jesus-focused, Bible-loving, Spirit-led worship, led by guys wearing their colors but not trying to draw attention to themselves. In fact, showing up at church not dressed like a Hell's Angel made me stand out like a Suzuki in a parking lot full of Harleys; which is exactly what happened last night when I showed up on my little Zuk 300. I was going to park around the corner but Pastor Speedy (yep!) saw me and motioned for me to park right in front. So, I backed my free little beater into a row full of full-dressed Hogs that each cost more than my car did, got off and put my skunk helmet on the seat and was immediately warmly welcomed by several guys you wouldn't want to meet in an alley. We have all made mistakes in the past. We all have regrets. But as I got off the bike last night and realized how ridiculous I must look to them, I appreciated the fact that they don't take themselves too seriously. Because I still wouldn't want to make 'em mad!