the daysman

I’m posting a series of essays as preparation for my upcoming ordination council. You can find these at http://bit.ly/1ps22J

Here is an excerpt from “who is Jesus and why does it matter?”

the king thing? We have no idea at all, even though Christ as sovereign Lord is where an understanding of who Jesus is must lead us in the end. This isn’t about Queen Elizabeth and Prince Henry, bound by Parliament and centuries of human reason and regulation. We’re talking Darius, with power of life and death, as less than a choir boy. Ultimately Jesus is the King (Revelation 17:14, 19:16) before whom the heavens and the earth will melt.

Serious draw-er is serious.

Originally uploaded by Christian Metts

This is our granddaughter. She is cute. She calls me Santa.

Excerpt from funeral message based on Psalm 23, part 2.

Ours was often a transitional life.

By the time I was 16 I had lived in 13 different places, and mom was blessed that God often and finally provided some still waters. Our home on the mountain was one of those places. So was the farm at Ft. Ogden. And finally she was blessed in her later life to sit and watch the mostly tranquil waters of Lemon Bay. As Katie and I have been sitting in her backyard for the last few evenings, we’ve thought about the times mom and dad must have sat there together, resting and contemplating the grace of God.

The Lord provides these times and places, although we have to learn how to recognize them and appreciate them. At home Katie and I are learning to sit on the porch and sip a cup of tea. Each of us is led to still waters, although we often fail to drink. Attending to these times is a discipline of the heart. It is here where he restores our soul. It is here we find the strength to follow the path of righteousness for His name’s sake.

The good shepherd knows where the deep pools are. He leads us there, he meets us there and he fills us there. Jesus tells us those who hunger and thirst after righteousness will be filled, and that he himself is the everlasting water, and that he alone can quench our thirst.

Augustine put it this way: “Oh God! Thou hast made us for thyself and our souls are restless, searching, till they find their rest in thee.” When we are led beside the still waters we can drink deeply and rest. We cultivate those habits of life that bring us time and time again to the still waters, and all those habits reflect our willingness to be led by him.

He leads us beside the still waters.

Bonnie Joan Metts died peacefully in her sleep last night. She was 74.

Born on November 7, 1933 in Naples, Florida, she was the daughter of Jack and Mary Prince. Although she came from a family of some means, her own mom was killed in an auto accident when she was four and her Dad never quite understood or accepted what we would call today a learning disability.

She found a friend in Jesus, however, and also introduced him to a young drifter named Wally Metts. They ran off and got married in Georgia when she was 17 and began a remarkable life together, marked by 50 years planting and pastoring churches in Florida and Tennessee.

A noted pastor, author, Christian educator and radio personality, he preceded her in death by six years. She was also preceded in death by a menagerie including dogs, cats, donkeys, goats, ducks and goldfish, all of which she maintained her husband was now caring for in heaven.

Noted for her gift of mercy, her love of animals, and her adventurous spirit, she will be missed by her three children and their spouses (Wally and Katie, Toy and Kent, Joy and Garry), twelve grandchildren (Margaret and John, Christian and Ann, Ryan, Mitchell, Michael, Elyse, Corey, Pilgrim, Krista, Myra), two great-grandchildren (Tabitha and Timothy), a step-mother (Grace), two sisters (Mary and Betty), a brother (John), former parishioners (hundreds), caregivers (dozens) and her cats (two).

Loved as a Sunday School teacher and pastor’s wife, she was a member of the Calvary Baptist Church in Englewood, Florida. Once a year she gathered with the Old Timers Club of Naples to celebrate the heritage of “Old Florida.”

She struggled for over a decade with complications from a stroke, diabetes, renal failure and four episodes of cancer, but remained unto the end a rare, independent spirit who loved the open road and never lived in a house with air-conditioning.

My mom and I had a few good laughs today, especially after my sister got here. Mom was visiting us from Florida for a couple of weeks, but Toy came up too after talking to mom last night. We all knew it was time.

And so tonight the oncologist told us mom’s cancer has spread and that she may have a week or two. Or less. Anyone who wants to see her should do so now, he said.

It may be her cats who would want to see her the most, actually. Mom is, as Toy points out, the kindest zoo keeper ever. Our lives with her have always been shared with creature that crawl, swim, bark or purr. We remembered all their names, and laughed at their adventures.

I don’t share her love of things that are fuzzy or have feathers, but I do like to have fun, and she is one woman who through over 50 years as a pastor’s wife learned to look at the lighter side of things. It’s her way of managing all the pain in the world, and if I ever make you laugh you have her to thank.

This has all been rather sudden. Just Friday she was sitting on our front porch, watching for the deer that sometimes cross our field. Saturday morning she was in severe pain and we brought her to the hospital. The list of her ills and their interactions is very long, but she was quickly dealing with renal failure, fever, confusion and pain.

Today was one of the many graces we experience in the kindness of our Lord. She knows where she is, who we are, and what is going on. As long as this lasts, we have determined to praise God for his faithfulness, leavening our grief with joy and making promises we can only keep by his power and for his pleasure.

Our son Pilgrim was reading Psalm 62 to her this afternoon and she was crying and repeating each line:

My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.
He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defense; I shall not be moved.
In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God.
Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.

She is sometimes fearful but relatively comfortable. The care here is good. It’s hard for her to be away from her own home and her own church. But she seems a little stronger today- ate a little and joked around.

Laughter is her favorite medicine, after all.

Golf is not a game, it’s bondage. It was obviously devised by a man torn with guilt, eager to atone for his sins. ~Jim Murray

Wednesday night, somewhere in China, Mays and Walsh won the Olympic gold medal in women’s beach volleyball, falling on the sand in the rain, rolling around and screaming with joy.

This ecstasy was followed by tears, especially during a brief moment when Mays sprinkled some of her mother’s ashes on the court where she had just won her second Olympic gold. She did the same thing in Athens four years ago.

The next day, on the other side of the planet, and equally amazing athletic accomplishment unfolded. I won the Cascades six golf championship by one stroke, net 30 on nine holes.

Setting aside that my handicap is 29, and that the other three in the championship round had to give me anywhere from 15 to 25 strokes, this is still somewhat remarkable. I beat my own average for the summer by six strokes.

But the amazing thing is that I play golf at all, because I have no athletic inclination whatsoever. I’m the guy that got picked last all through elementary school, in that cruel playground ritual where bookish kids have no value. My parent signed me up for Little League, long before anyone ever thought that everyone should get a chance to play. I sat on the bench for an entire season, and never played a single inning.

In high school a P.E. teacher once threatened a group of guys and told them if they didn’t shape up he would put me on their team. In college I got my only C in a P. E. class for not being able to do enough chin ups. I had to take an activity class at the University of Tennessee, so I signed up for beginning swimming, even though I had a senior lifeguard certificate at the time.

I am by nature a risk taker, but when it comes to athletics, no risks or team sports for me. I raised three sons, and not a jock in the lot of them. A designer, a photographer and a musician: plenty of risks and lots of solitude. We play games with words, and we’re very good at it.

But ten years ago I signed up for a golf class, because my dad loved the game and I loved him. It was to be a way to spend time with him, but it wasn’t then and isn’t now a passion.

Seven years ago, in early August, we played nine holes together at Hickory Hills in Jackson on a hot, sticky afternoon. I came within a few strokes of him, a rare accomplishment in its own right although he was clearly off his game and very tired. It was the last time we would spend together alone. He returned home to Florida and died of a heart attack three weeks later, just about this time of year.

I don’t know why I kept playing. I like the discipline of having to relax to do well, but it is a difficult one for me to master. I need the exercise, and always walk. And the 16 guys who make up my league, none of whom I know in any other context, are remarkably gracious, considering how poorly I play.

They offer suggestions and encouragement, and only laugh out loud when I go in the same water hazard three times in a row. There are jokes about me, of course, but slightly out of range, while I’m looking for my ball in the tall grass. In some ways it still feels like the playground in forth grade, only with grown ups.

But I seldom think of Dad when I play. He never laughed at me at all, and once introduced me as a poet, one of the proudest moments of my life. I didn’t have to win anything to be loved by him.

He would have been proud though, and when I pulled out of the parking lot Thursday I began to cry. I wanted so much to call him. He would have laughed with me, and rejoiced in the irony of it. And he would have told me to keep my head down and to follow through, not just in golf, but in everything.

I know what he would have said. I so desperately needed to hear him say it. Even now, a day later, my grief is palatable and immense. I have no ashes to spread on the field of my accomplishment.

But I have this to say: Treasure those moments you share with those you love, even on a hot, sticky afternoon doing something you’re not very good at.

It is good to be loved and better to embrace it. Everything else is just a game.

Over at “opinionjournal.com,”:http://www.opinionjournal.com/columnists/dhenninger/?id=110004652 Daniel Hennninger weighs in on why both the right and the left can agree that the Superbowl half time show says something serious about how popular culture has gone wrong. His conclusion: “We can throw out Janet and Justin with the bilgewater. But it’s time to save the baby.”

Here is the current Sesame Street Terror Alert:

Mergers, convergence, broad band. The media is swirling with change as stakeholders and shareholders compete for our attention. Newspaper circulation is down, and so are broadcast TV audiences. Internet usage is up, and guys in particular have quit watching TV to listen to CDs and play video games.

Meanwhile people are sleeping less and working more. And no one can predict what the media landscape will look like in ten years. Or even five. Advertisers are perplexed but persistent. Newspaper editors and broadcast executives are just scared.

How do you feel?

It’s would be easy to take a passive approach to all this. Just let the media happen to you, what ever happens to the media. But you can shape the media, and you can shape them in three ways.

h3. Shape its form

First, _you can help shape the form of the media and the contexts in which it operates._ The media world, like yours, is framed by regulations and laws. These frameworks are constantly being changed and challenged by lawmakers and bureaucrats. Everybody has a plan to fix things.

But then again, everyone has a vote too. How will you use yours? Right now people are trying to figure out how to route your phone calls and cable service over the internet. And corporations and consumer groups are fighting over regulations and fees while record companies and film studios are taking teenagers to court.

So, pay attention. Read those articles buried in your magazine or around the edges of your online news sources. Be aware and thoughtful. Ask questions. These issues will ultimately determine what you pay for and how you pay for it. Write letters, sign petitions, and vote. It does matter.

h3. Shape its content

But _you can also shape the content of the media._ Choose the good stuff. Spend your money on media that matter. Every time you buy a product or purchase a ticket or buy a DVD or video game you are voting for quality or for schlock.

Of course we usually buy what we like. And, unfortunately, sometimes we like schlock. So how do we recognize the good stuff? The good stuff reflects purpose and craftsmanship. Learn to recognize it and appreciate it and “vote” for it. This isn’t as simple as counting the cuss words. It involves understanding the themes and values which reflect the violent clash in our culture between worldviews.

There are dozens of worldviews. Maybe hundreds. But understand your own. As Christians, we believe God is at work in the world, revealing Himself and reconciling us to Himself through his Son. Evil is real, and must be understood and stood against. There is joy to be had. And hope.

Celebrate such messages, especially when they don’t come in a sermon. And create them too.

People often wonder if the media shape us or if we shape the media. The answer is yes. Both are true, but we seldom accept the responsibility for either. While media shape your attitudes and behavior, you can shape the media by making messages of your own. Or by buying them. Or not.

So start a band or produce a movie or publish a blog. Try not to make it a “Christian” one. Try to make it a good one. Redemption and hope will flow out of you.

And don’t buy junk. Don’t buy those things which diminish you or blaspheme your God. Don’t buy them. And don’t abide them, either. Sometimes we should walk out of a theater, even if we did pay six bucks.

h3. Shape its effect

And that is of course the third way you shape the media. _You shape the way it shapes you._

It shapes the world you live in. Not just the world out there, but the world in which you personally live with your roommates or your siblings or your spouse or your children. Do you spend enough time building relationships or nurturing your faith? Jesus said the whole of God’s expectation for us is that we would love God and love our neighbor.

The question of how much time we should spend with the media is the wrong question. The real question is how much time should we spend with each other, and with God. Once we answer that question, there will be plenty of time left for quality entertainment.

The most important thing about a movie, for example, may be the conversation we have about it with people we love. What was the director trying to do? How well did she do it? Was it worth doing? These are questions about values.

The media is all about values. Nothing is pure entertainment. And nothing is pure information. When media makers choose what goes in and what stays out that decision is based on values. All communication involves some persuasive intent.

What are you being persuaded to do? Or care about? What do you take more seriously or less seriously because of the media choices you make? What do you laugh about or cry about? Who are you? Who do you want to be? Why? The media to which you attend suggests answers to all these questions. And more.

But the media is not an evil thing. It’s merely a channel of persuasive messages, some of which are good and some of which are bad.

But your heart? Well, that is an evil thing. Our nature is to rebel against authority and to place ourselves at the center of the universe. We are fallen, sinful creatures in need of grace and dependent on God’s mercy.

So guard your heart. Don’t let your media choices bring out the worst in you.

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:7

Do a search for “daysman” on “Google”:http://www.google.com/search?q=daysman&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8 and you will find me. Cool.

Not that many people ever do a search for daysman…

But if they do, I’ll be here. Waiting.