MuddyPuddles

The following link is the sermon I preached at Outreach church of Christ on New Years Day, 2012. It’s called “The Spiritual Elephant in the Room.”   That is a play on words in conjunction with the story of the six blind men who describe what an elephant is like. It is a metaphor for how we’ve come to understand the Bible by zeroing in on individual topics or passages for just about all of our Bible study.  To see how all of these focused studies fit together in context, it’s sometimes necessary to back off and look at the bigger picture.  That’s what this lesson attempts to do.  The conclusions drawn are quite different from what we’ve often put into practice over the years, and yet they make all the sense in the world.  In fact, they are refreshing.

I hope you are blessed by these thoughts.

Dennis

Click on the arrows below to hear the sermon.

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When our youngest son was just a toddler he had a tendency to get croup.  Croup is an inflammatory condition of the larynx and trachea, especially in young children, marked by a cough, hoarseness, and difficulty in breathing.  This perfectly describes what J was exhibiting. When he coughed, it sounded like a hound dog baying.  It was frightening.

I remember one particularly scary night when he developed this croupy cough.  It seemed like it was always worse at night.  Because of his constricting airways, his breathing difficulties were exacerbated, especially after each cough.  This would cause him to panic and make him cry out of fear.  This created a greater need for air.  It was a vicious cycle and it seemed that we were powerless to stop it.  I became fearful for his life.  I became really fearful for his life.

To help combat the symptoms, we decided to try steam.  We carried him into the bathroom and turned on the shower faucet to full blast steaming hot.  We felt like the steam might relax and open up his passageways.  It did not.  We called the doctor to explain what was happening.  He told us to get to the emergency room.  This was about a twenty minute drive from our house—an eternity when your child can’t breathe.   We bundled J up and got in the car and started heading that way.

We were in the dead of winter and the night air was freezing.  The car was cold, but we didn’t have time to warm it up before starting our journey.  So we just got in and left.  As we were going along, it seemed that J’s condition improved a little bit.  In fact, the closer we got to the hospital, the better he could breathe.  It was a mystery, but it was wonderful.  By the time we arrived, his breathing was near normal.

Then we realized that it was the cold night air that was causing J’s swollen passages to shrink back down.  This opened up his throat so that air could pass.  He could breathe.  He could relax.  We could all relax.  Praise the Lord.

After that incident we never had so much trouble with his croup again.  Any time it started up we would open the freezer door and hold his head inside so he could breathe in the frigid air.  It worked every time.  This little piece of knowledge was like a Godsend.  So simple, yet so effective.

That event took place in the winter of 1980 more or less.  And since that time I’ve become aware of quite a few things, small things generally, that make a significant difference in people’s lives.  The people that know about and apply these small things have much better lives.  They are more effective in helping others and in avoiding problems for themselves.

It’s been on my heart for the past few month to start writing these things down so that they can be shared with a wider audience than I come into contact with in my present circle.  And though I never kid myself into thinking I’ve arrived at a supremely elevated state of consciousness, I know that I have learned some things and want to pass them along for the benefit of others.

So that will be my quest for the near future.  Dennis

When I was growing up, one of the hit TV programs was “I Love Lucy.”  The show stayed around for many years in reruns and I think you can still watch it now through DVD’s, Netflix, Amazon.com and probably several other venues.

One particular episode that stuck out with me was the episode where Lucy and Ethel started working in a candy factory.  Their job was to take these pieces of chocolate candy that were coming down a conveyor belt and they were to put the pieces in a box.  At first the belt was going at a pretty slow speed and it didn’t have too much candy on it.  A little bit later, as you might guess, the belt started coming faster and amount of candy on the belt increased as well.

At first they had no trouble getting all the candy into the boxes, but as it sped up they were unable to keep up.  To keep the candy from getting past them, they started putting handfuls of it in their mouth, in their pockets, down the inside of their shirts and anywhere else they could reach.  They just couldn’t keep up.  After awhile, they stopped putting any of the candy in the boxes.  It all went off the end of the conveyor and onto the floor.  So much candy. . ., so little time.

I think life in general has kind of followed that same type of scenario.  It used to be so simple.  Some of you can remember a time when the big new deal was having a radio in the house.  Very few “programs” came on at first.  And the good ones became a weekly focal point.  The family would gather around the radio to listen to the “Grand Ole Opry” or to one of the serial mystery programs that would always end with a cliff hanger that would make everyone have to wait until next week to find out what happened.

Then came the television–black and white at first and then that fuzzy, problematic color.   I can still remember when my family got our first TV.  To make it work we had to set up a tall antenna pole out back.  It stood on the ground and basically leaned against the roof overhang of our house.  It was held in place there by a “U” bolt mounted to the fascia board.  There were three or four guy wires that were attached to the top of the pole and secured at other places on the roof and on the propane tank out back so that the antenna wouldn’t blow down when the high winds came.  The actual antenna was attached to the pole about ten feet higher than the roof.

In order to get good reception, we had to make sure the antenna was pointed in the right direction.  If we weren’t getting good reception or if we needed to change the channel, somebody had to go out back and grab the wrench (like vice grips or channel locks) and twist the antenna around while somebody inside the house would yell out “that’s good,” or “that’s worse.”  Then you could come in and watch the program.  Eventually we were able to get one of those little remote control devices that would turn the antenna automatically when we turned the little dial inside the house.  That felt as good as getting a microwave did later.  It was wonderful.

As far as watching, we could only get two channels pretty clearly and a third channel with a lot of “snow.”  It was the big three—ABC, CBS and NBC.  A couple of these channels came out of Lubbock and the other out of Amarillo.  Even with this new fangled invention, life was still pretty basic during those times.  The news came on at 6:00 in the evening and if we wanted to watch the TV at 6:00, we watched the news.  During that time the radio was mostly used to hear country or pop music, the farm report and an occasional major league baseball game.  Other than newspapers and some gossipy neighbors on the phone, that was about all the informational input we had access to.

Fast forward to today and the choices are unlimited.  Not only do we have access to hundreds of TV channels, there are millions of websites on the internet.  And we don’t have to wait for the news to come to us.  We can go find it for ourselves.  There are dozens of internet search engines, like google, yahoo and dogpile.  There are many other resources to access information–Iphones, Ipads, Ipods, Kindle, Tivo, DVD, Netflix, video streaming, audio books, RSS feeds, blogging, emailing, skyping, facebooking, twittering, instant messaging, texting, 3G, 4G, Wifi, Youtube, smartphones,  Wii, PlayStation and we still have the option to call those gossipy neighbors.  It is a radical change from the early days.

In addition to the many ways we can access information, the actual amount of information to access is rapidly growing as well, exponentially.  It is accelerating faster than we can comprehend–which puts us in somewhat of a dilemma.  We can’t take it all in.  So, like the candy piling up on the floor, most of the information is passing us by.  Unlike the candy factory in the Lucy show, we are now dealing with hundreds of informational conveyor belts to choose from.  We have the political belts, the various genre’s of musical hits and stars belts, the Hollywood and celebrity belts, the hunting and fishing belts, the health and fitness belts, the cooking belts, the medical belts, the pornography belts, the social media belts, the religious belts, the sports belts, gambling belts, the travel belts, stock market and investment belts and hundreds of other belts covering every conceivable topic.  It’s more than we can even imagine.

With all this access to all of these options a dichotomy has been taking place in our society.   Along with the option to access and absorb a vast amount of information and knowledge comes the option to put our blinders on and zero in on a very small window of specialty.  Many have become totally obsessed and even addicted to a computer game or to the social networking scene or to celebrity worship or to politics or to some other excursion that floats their boat.  We now have the option to be totally ignorant about the world around us.

I guess you could say that one of the ironic byproducts of all this knowledge and information is ignorance.   Many people become so focused on one particular area that they become virtual experts in that field, but they are totally clueless about most other things.   This has been illustrated by several TV shows where an interviewer would ask individuals on the street a simple question like, “Who is the Vice President of the United States?  Their response would be a guess or an “I don’t know.”  It’s unbelievable, but it’s also reality.

I don’t know what the future holds for our country.  We know the old adage about those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it.  I’m thinking we are moving on down that road.  And it appears that soon, the inmates will be running the asylum—or are we already there.  Maybe I can find the answer on the World Wide Web.  Or maybe I’ll ask my Facebook friends.  Or maybe I’ll just download some good ole Jimmy Buffet music, like “Wasting Away in Margaritaville.”  I’ll decide and then get back to you when I have the answers.  Take care in the mean time.

A few years ago I had traveled to the beautiful city of Antigua, Guatemala, for some intense training in a Spanish language school.  One afternoon after class I noticed that there seemed to be some kind of special activity taking place a couple of blocks up the street.  Being curious and not really having any immediate commitments, I followed the small crowd moving in that direction in hopes of getting a better glimpse of the activities.

As I got closer I noticed that there were several camera crews with all types of lighting and specialized equipment set up in various spots along the cobblestoned street.  One was set up inside a quaint little shop.  Another was located in front of a rustic store entryway.  Another was near a large fountain.  And yet another set up near a statue.  They were each involved in taking pictures of some very beautiful young women.  At various stages these women would change into a variety of clothing styles.  At any given time you could find some dressed in anything from formal dresses to casual dresses to bikini bathing suits.

With a little inquiry I was able to determine that this ancient picturesque city had been chosen as the site at which the contestants in the Miss Central America pageant were to be photographed.  As I understood it, these photographs would be used for various types of Pageant publicity–calendars, online promotions, newspaper and magazine articles, etc.  The women had come from Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Panama, Belize and Nicaragua–and they were quite beautiful.

In addition to the camera crews and the contestants were producers, assistants, body guards and general security guards as well as the various interested onlookers and observers.  There were also shopkeepers and customers that were in the mix as well.  Seeing the need for additional onlookers and observers, I was ready, willing and able to do my part in fulfilling that role.

In the middle of this beautiful cultural event, I got tickled at something that happened as I watched from my observation post.  To understand it, you must be aware of the fact that Antigua, being an ancient city, has a few quirks that would drive the modern code enforcement people crazy if they were to be in charge of bringing the ancient buildings up to modern standards.  For one thing, the floor of many of the shops was about a foot below the street level.  When leaving the store, one had to step up to street level and in reality to one step above street level due to the additional step which served to prevent rainwater from entering the store.  Basically, to leave the store you had to first step up and then to step down before going on your way.

As I stood leaning against the wall, a couple of brawny body guards and one of the beautiful young contestants were standing about ten or twelve feet in front of me in the middle of the street.  She was waiting her turn to be photographed.

All of a sudden a young Hispanic adult male, who had been paused in the doorway to my left, came lurching out onto the street.  I caught his motion out of the corner of my eye as he stumbled forward.  He had forgotten to make that last step down and had stepped out on very thin air instead.  Most other people were not aware of the commotion until they heard the reverberation of his hard soled shoes clattering noisily on the cobblestoned street as he repeatedly propelled them ahead in an effort to keep his body from crashing onto the rocks.  As the young man reeled forward his arms were flailing wildly.  In regard to direction he had no control and narrowly missed plowing into several people, including the body guards as they whirled around with alarm.

Upon regaining his balance at the far side of the street, the young man tried to look as if nothing unusual had happened.  He tried to look as if he had not been distracted by the beautiful ‘scenery.’  And what can I say?  I don’t know the guy.  Maybe he crosses the street this way all the time.

On the other hand, I can definitely say, ‘Thanks for the memory.  It’s been a blessing to my life.”

I’ve thought a lot recently about exactly what I want from Outreach Church on Sunday mornings.  Some churches seem to exist to implement programs.  Some seem to exist to check off the legalistic requirements of the unwritten creed.  Some seem to exist to condemn others and talk about why “we” are right and “they” are wrong.  Some seem to exist to be a pep rally to get everyone all “whooped” up.

Though many of the aforementioned reasons are easily dismissed in my mind, and though I’ve had a vague idea of what I’m looking for, I’m just now getting to the point that I feel certainty in my aim.  The clarity came after a discussion of about the possibility of eventually implementing a program that would be beneficial for a segment of our society that seems to struggle the most.  It would be a class type format with a lot of hands on commitments to help community members struggling with various types of addictions.  It would be a noble venture.  And yet, when it was brought up I felt such a heavy weight on my soul.  I felt such a burden.

My life is such that I feel like I deal with so many people in such great need every week.   My work puts me in close proximity to many dysfunctional families and unreliable, oftentimes less than honorable people.  I conscientiously strive to help many of these people–those who seem to want to grow–and to plant many seeds to produce fruit as I journey along life’s way.  Though I see some success and growth, which is very gratifying, most seeds fail to produce (it seems) and result, all too often, in disappointment and frustration.   By the end of the week, I’m ready to escape.  I’m ready for some relief and recharging.  I’m ready for renewal.

Which brings me to what I’m seeking on Sunday.  I’ve come to the conclusion that I want Outreach to be an oasis.  I want it to be a place where people of all stripes can come together and worship God and encourage one another.  I want it to be a safe place where no one feels like a second class citizen, but is welcomed with open arms and respected and lifted up.  I want it to be a place and time of true renewal and encouragement where we can pray for one another and give thanks to God for all he’s done.

As we walk out that door at the end of the service, it is my hope that each and every one of us will feel more empowered to resist the devil and to feel more determined to make a positive difference in the lives we touch during the week ahead.  We will each be a little bit less dysfunctional and we will have brighter lights to shine so that others may see our good works and give glory to our father in heaven.

And that is my vision for Outreach.  God Bless, Dennis