Writing
Link Happy [I Came. I Saw. I Wrote.]
![Typewriter Link Happy [I Came. I Saw. I Wrote.]](http://www.fallenandflawed.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/Typewriter.jpg "Typewriter")
God bless people who open up their blogs to me. Who allow me to write. To taunt. Ridicule. Mock. Tease…
And hopefully, in the long run, to teach.
Here are five posts I wrote for some good blogs in the last month. [Thank you Joseph, Kathy, Daniel and Joseph!]
John Wycliffe’s 9-Point Guide to Reading the Bible
John Wycliffe, the first man to translate the Bible into English, gave us a simple rule to Bible reading. This is what it looks like.
Top 10 Worst Creativity Tips of All Time
Relying on opium-induced dreams for creativity is a terrible idea. And there are nine more really bad ideas on how to jolt your creativity. Take a look.
Daniel Wilson Reviews The Messiah
This is not so much a shameless plug for my book as it is a hardy appreciation for Daniel’s pronounced ability to write very, very well.
What to Say When You Only Have 30-Seconds to Share the Gospel
With such a short period of time, it’s obvious you need an elevator pitch–a ridiculously short summary of what you believe. Here’s how to craft one.
Why Are Some Genuine Christians Gun Shy about Church?
It’s a strange phenomenon: Bible-believing Christians refusing a blood-bought gift of God’s grace. A phenomenon rooted in something marginally sinister.
By the way, what have you been reading lately? Got any new blogs you want to share? A juicy piece of secular news? A sacred, heart-churning yarn? A deviant, under-handed stretch of research that will change the way we look at the world forever? Please share.
5 Posts You Might’ve Missed [Plus, Blogger for Hire]
Some of you might have seen my tweet this weekend where I said I’d be happy to write a guest post for you.
Yes. It’s true. I’m for hire.
But hire is such a strong word. [In truth, I don't charge a dime. Actually, I should be paying you. But that's another story.]
Anyway, I’m available. Email me if you are interested.
Why am I doing this? I like to write. I like the challenge. More importantly, I want to promote my blog so I can elevate Christ and be that little footnote in your personal history.
So far I’ve got seven people in line. There’s no limit, so shoot me an email anytime.
I’d like to say I’d write for any topic. But, alas, I’m not sure I could pull it off. I have to keep it narrow.
But if you’ve got a blog that deals with creativity, writing, leadership or Christianity, I’m game.
In the meantime enjoy the latest installments of guest posts I’ve written for some outstanding blogs.
Simple, Bare-Bones Purpose Behind Leadership Three non-negotiable elements every leader must incorporate to be effective leaders. [Sorting Beans]
How to Play Like a Child–Again How’s your spiritual life? Is it full of joy? Or is it dominated by frustration and anxiety? You don’t have to live like that. [Desire Spiritual Growth]
How to Read the Bible [Seven Births Method] One of the main problems we have when it comes to new believers and reading the Bible is this: Where in the world do we start? Here’s an answer. [You See Dry Bones]
How to Develop a Mature Christian Mind The amount we invest into our faith determines the amount we get out. Here’s some advice to make the most out of your faith. [Hills Bible Church Blog]
Being a Christian: It Means More Than Going to Church There are two people in the world: Those who go to church and those who don’t. Let’s talk about those who go to church. [Sorting Beans]
Do me a favor after you read these articles: Support these guys. Subscribe to their blogs. Comment on their posts. Share links via your own blog or Twitter.
Good, Christ-honoring guys to support.
Also, if I’ve written a post for you and didn’t include it here, let me know. I think I rounded up all the outstanding posts…but don’t want to assume.
Now, email me if you want a guest post. I’m waiting. Pencil in hand.
A Little Footnote to Your Personal History
Imagine this.
You are sitting in the pew of a church with a cathedral-high ceiling. Stain glass windows.
It’s lit with sunlight but a tad chilly.
Eventually the pastor approaches the lectern, sets his Bible down, reaches inside his wool sport coat and pulls out a pair of reading glasses.
He then cracks open his Bible.
He leafs through a few pages, anchors his finger on a text and then reads.
He reads the text with a sober, but soft voice. And when he’s finished, he removes his glasses and launches into his sermon.
Nothing out of the ordinary or cause for concern.
You listen, take notes, smile, laugh, look at your boots, scratch your elbow, stare at the stain glass window behind the lectern.
Then, with about ten minutes before his sermon ends, the pastor embarks on his own personal story.
His salvation story.
Quickly you learn that central to his story is a man. You don’t catch his name. But that’s own purpose. And, as you’ll see, that you don’t know his name isn’t important.
Not to his story. Or my story.
What you do catch is the role this man played in the pastor’s life. A significant role, to say the least, because it was this man who introduced the pastor to Christ.
Eventually he does name the man. And you’re shocked. But not for the typical reasons.
You’re shocked because you don’t have a clue who this man is. You’ve never heard of him before. And you feel…well, somewhat embarrassed for the man.
Why embarrassed? Because the man is a nobody. He’s not a towering figure in history who the world knows.
He’s not a Theodore Roosevelt. Gandhi. Or Mick Jagger. So, in the world’s eyes, he’s a failure. Unfortunately, you toy with this idea that he’s a failure.
But to the pastor this obscure, unremarkable man is perhaps one of the most significant persons in his life.
Have you ever heard a pastor tell a story like this? Whether in your own church, a church you visited or at a conference?
I’ve probably heard this story told–in a variation of forms–four times in the last ten years.
[Could be more, but only four actually stand out.]
And I’m ashamed to admit that each time I heard the story…I frowned. Frowned because the “poor” man who led the pastor to Christ is unremarkable. Obscure.
He’s not a legendary CEO. A stellar actor. A current president. He’s just a man who introduced a person to Christ.
And that kills me each time.
Each of these men are footnotes in the lives of these pastors. But significant footnotes. Meaningful in the eyes of eternity. The only point of view that truly matters.
Why am I telling you this? Simple. I want to be a footnote in your life. A meaningful reference anchored somewhere in your life.
But not for my own glory. For Christ’s glory, of course.
This is one of the reasons I want to pour myself into this blog: To educate you and encourage you, to correct and condition you towards Christ.
I’ve got slim hopes that I’ll actually lead someone to the Lord. But if I can nudge you just a smidgen in the direction of Christ and the hope found in his grace…
If I can merely point you to the heavenly city where our omnipotent King sits enthroned…
If I can equip you to fight the good fight of faith or impress upon you the support and care you have from me in the form of constant prayer and supplication…
I’ve succeeded.
Whether you remember it or not ten years from now, I’ve succeeded in becoming a little footnote in your personal history.
Truly, the real reward will come when we sit together in the banquet hall with our bridegroom. Together, in adoration and zealous celebration of the only person who could have satisfied the justice and wrath of God–Jesus Christ.
But until then–and years from now–may you remember the tiny dent you got when you collided with Christ at Fallen and Flawed.
Have a great weekend.
45 Miles on Foot and All I Get Are These Lousy Epiphanies?
Actually, the epiphanies aren’t lousy…
I’m just smarting over the low-grade but ruthless abuse I took to get them.
Yet I have no one to blame but myself.
I chose to hike 45 miles through the Smokey Mountains in 3 days.
Why? Because I love to hike. I love a ridiculous challenge. And I love hanging out with my friends.
The epiphanies, on the other hand, I credit to God. So, here are some lessons learned, thoughts stewed over and questions asked.
Never Trust a Downhill Hiker
Here’s the deal: Hiking etiquette demands downhill hikers yield to uphill hikers. This creates the perfect opportunity for uphill hikers to ask “How far to the top?”–the perennial question on every uphill hiker’s mind.
The answers always vary. “Half a mile. Half an hour. Fifteen minutes. You’re almost there.” The truth is, they don’t know what they’re talking about. Their sense of distance varies widely from yours. I eventually stopped asking.
Irreducible Complexity Remains Evolutions Biggest Stumbling Block
Hardly surprising that hanging out on the backbone of the Smokies drives me to think about evolution. Principle questions that I want answers to: Evolution posits that we have an instinct to survive, to reproduce. What is the origin of those instincts? What was it before complex organisms? What are the odds that organisms can survive the transition from cell division to one sex organisms to two sex organisms?
Swarms of Flies Sound Like Talking Humans
Don’t know why, but on certain stretches of the Appalachian Trail hordes of flies buzzed. Freaky, because you’re expecting to run into hikers but find yourself surrounded by tiny black winged insects.
Then, when you actually do hear humans talking, you’re not sure it’s not the flies. I can see why some people go AWOL on the Appalachian.
Ibuprofen Is a Good Over-the-Counter Drug
Thudding mile after mile up and down steep hills works ugly magic on your knees, joints, hips and head. Eventually the monotonous pounding deadens your motivation to keep hiking. Pop four ibuprofen, though, and a new, stout mad man emerges to finish the days hike.
Brotherly Love Ranks High on Pleasures of the Christian Life
I adore the unity of Christian brothers. The fellowship. The discussion. The accountability. The corporate worship around a camp fire. Brotherly love is evidence of God’s grace. And it is a means of grace I cherish deeply. Second only to marriage.
Stop Telling Unregenerate Sinners That God Loves Them
I’m guessing I mulled over this because of a few comments I’ve recently received that carried a tone of God’s unconditional love for sinners.
Yes, John 3:16 does say that God so loved the world. And he wishes that none perish. But John 3:36 says that unbelievers remain under the wrath of God. And Romans 1:18 declares that God’s anger falls upon the intentionally wicked. Nothing can deliver us from this predicament except Christ. Therefore, God’s love for unregenerate sinners IS conditional. It cost something. Dearly.
Here’s what I’m not saying: God relishes sending condemned people to hell. Jesus, in fact, grieved over the Jews’ disobedience. Paul said he’d take the curse for the sake of his brothers. But neither skirted the issue of God’s justice. God’s love begins and ends with the cross of Christ, not the sinner.
Bears DO Fall Out of Trees
Less than four miles to go and I heard something scrambling in the tall trees. Not uncommon with chipmunks everywhere. Yet I looked up and saw a black bear–maybe 150 pounds–plummet 30 feet to the ground. He immediately charged downhill, crashing through brush and disappeared. I think I spooked him.
Forgot What I Looked Like
No mirror, no see self. For three days. Bizarre. But does that mean I bring a mirror next time? No. I quite like the absence of concern for self.
By the way, the image is a photograph of Fontana Dam under construction back in the 40s. Our hike ended on top of the dam. We started at Newfound Gap. Total distance: 45 miles. Read more about the Appalachian Trail.
The Abusive Hike [A Short Story on a Fortunate Event]
If you’re interested in stories with classical happy endings, you might be better off reading something else…
Naturally, it depends on how you define “happy endings.”
The prince and the princess elope and breed a royal family inside the walls of a mammoth castle on a hill in England.
The fumbling Iowan outcast wins the school presidency, finds someone to play tether ball with and gets back the girl.
Or the restless penguin breaks free from domestic monotony to surf the biggest waves with his childhood hero.
Those, in the classic sense, are happy endings. This story, however, is not like those.
But it ends happily. I think.
This story begins one day on the Appalachian Trail. Five hikers who embark on a forty-six mile journey.
Our first mile was a dirty, abusive mile. The trail, like a rocket, rose rapidly in elevation. No one was prepared. It took us one hour to cover one mile. We were exhausted. AND we were in trouble. In many ways.
One, we needed to cover about two miles an hour to stay on schedule. Two, according to our stupid maps, the trail continued to climb. Three, one of the hikers was battling a nagging leg cramp.
That leg cramped turned into frequent stops. Eventually the hiker could no longer carry his pack. That meant that everyone else took turns sharing the extra load…
Yes, at times each of us had one pack on the back. One pack on the front. Other times we’d hike our packs to the top, run down and hike the other pack to the top.
Our pace was pathetic.
Competitive and selfish, I bristled that we were moving so slowly. And by the end of the first day we were four miles off target. At the end of the second day, eight miles off target.
At that point somebody mentioned the unmentionable: Maybe we should cut the hike short. Calculations determined we’d arrive at the end of our 46 mile hike about 9 P. M. on Monday. Not helpful if you had to immediately drive ten hours.
So, on the third day, we decided to do just that: Hike to mile 34 and call someone in to pick us up.
Often, during that day, I wandered far ahead of the pack, ambling on in the sunshine over the narrow dirt path. Often I contemplated leaving them behind. Pushing forward by myself. Knocking the remaining 12–or whatever miles–and accomplish the goal we set out to achieve.
But my conscience wouldn’t let me do that. In fact, I didn’t even feel it was appropritae to ask permission to finish.
As much as the thought made me want to vomit, we came in as a team…we leave as a team.
So, around 3 pm on the third day I climbed into the van that would take us back to the cabin. Climbed in smarting like hell that I couldn’t finish the hike.
The only reason I tell you this story is because, by the time you read this I’ll probably be on the Appalachian Trail, half way up Clingman’s Dome.
At 6,643, Clingman’s Dome is the highest point in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The park I’ll spend the next four days in. Trying to hike 42 miles this time.
And while you wait for me to get back on Tuesday, I thought it might do some good to tell you this story and the moral behind it…
How a man who four years ago would’ve stomped away–arms folded, chin into chest, teeth grit–in a subtle rage, managed by God’s grace to see beyond himself and care for the feelings and needs of other people.
That’s a happy ending via God’s gift of grace. Pray for that grace again. Happy Labor Day. And see you soon.
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