True confession time: I’m not comfortable saying, “God spoke to me.”

Honestly, I both admire and wonder about those who do have that confident closeness to the Holy that they can assert, with certainty, what God might want for them or others.

Two weeks ago in this space I wrote about unity in the church and the steep climb that often presents, both back for the early church and now. I like what I wrote but it felt incomplete, lacking any specifics needed to flesh out what it looks like to press for this in any congregation. And the need is great.

So, the other Monday morning I woke up and thought about the day in front of me. A blank canvas. Nada. An empty calendar sheet. I had a thought and said to God that I was open for business and that I would keep my eyes a bit sharper for chances to step into his story during the day, not sure if I really expected anything to happen out of the ordinary.

Reading the letters from Paul to various churches, it’s easy to paint a rosy picture of new believers following the Way, who lived out a first-century version of an idyllic commune: No conflicts or quarrels, no personality clashes or favoritism, no worries or hassles.

The other day I was drifting around on the interweb as the snow piled up outside, and came across a posting of a whiteboard sign where someone scrawled the following:

This year I want to be more like Jesus...

It's fun to listen to Jesus and his way of cutting through all the religious junk that gets in the way of a person from experiencing the God-life people were designed to have. He challenged the accepted order of things, whether from preachers or profiteers, and reached into the heart of any of his beloved with the offer of relief and pardon and purpose and rest. 

couple of days ago I hit a big number. The older I get the less I care about birthdays. No need to fuss or party, since everyone has one. But decade markers make a person sit up and take notice.

A bit ago I wrote about the parable Jesus told of the Good Samaritan. A few folks had issues with the application, as it rubbed a blister on pretty set ideas on life and culture. Living out the great commandment to love one another is often messy and never optional, regardless who needs the help.

One of my guilty pleasures is to watch Tom Selleck play Jesse Stone in a few of Robert Parker's novel adaptations for TV. Whenever it cycles onto the tube I'm there, and honestly, Selleck reading the phone book would catch my attention, and the stories are a fun diversion.

In our home, the days after Thanksgiving are our D Days. While others may rise early to shop, chasing Black Friday deals around town, our D Day stands for...decorating! Much of our normal stuff is put away, and in comes all things Christmas. My role is of the Devoted Schleper-man, toting bins off garage shelves and staging them in designated rooms, then scaling ladders to string outside lights, and finally, to make myself scarce.

Talking recently with a dear friend from long before high school days, I was reminded, again, how rich are long-term friendships. Tom and I touch base a few times each year to get caught up and challenge one another to read our latest favorite book and lament the unrelenting onslaught of age …

I’m a routine guy, and part of my (most) morning behavior is reading a bit from several books. In time I whittle away at them and most days glean something worth remembering. One of those books these days is Bob Goff’s Dream Big.

The familiar stories from Jesus' life can lose their punch if we aren't careful. At the time, they were often stunning to the hearers and challenged accepted ideas about God and life. The parable of the Good Samaritan is a case in point.

One reason I enjoy reading the Bible lies in its honesty. People are described as they lived, warts and all. Wander into most any church and the sermons you hear can too often sound triumphalistic, simplistic or just a glazed-donut version of life, but the pages of scripture are filled with real people facing real problems and looking to God for a way through them all.

So there I sat, head in hands. I'd blown it again. It seems like just when I make progress in my faith walk I stumble back into old patterns and foolish attempts at making my own way. How could Jesus want me on his team? When will I get it together? Why does it seem when I have a whole pasture to enjoy, I find the one cow flop to step in?

William D. Hoard is a guy most have never heard of. Even if you are a die-hard Packer fan, he is probably unknown to you. William, born in 1836, was a civil war veteran from Wisconsin and later an energetic advocate for the dairy industry in his state. He was elected Wisconsin governor and carried the legacy of the "Father of Wisconsin Dairy Farms." A true cheese head.

One of the most recognized and recited passages of the Bible is Psalm 23. Most can quote its opening by heart and easily lean into David’s cadence and imagery. Today, let’s take another stroll through its verses, this time in the New Living Translation.

So many times when someone crosses my path, either in person or mentally, I sense a nudge to pray for them. A natural response to a need says, “I’ll pray for you.” But what do I say to God? What words? What requests? What tone of voice?

A good woman recently died. I met Martha in church when we moved to Bend in 1987. I saw her as an older woman then, even though she hadn’t yet seen 60. (How foolish young eyes can be...)

Following our bike ride along the Great Allegheny Passage from Pittsburgh to Cumberland, MD, Claudia and I said goodbye to our riding partners and drove a rental car down to see some of her family in the Shenandoah valley outside of Roanoke, VA. Visiting her siblings and their families wraps us up in a warm hug of love (along with plates-full of great southern comfort food).