Shadows on Stones

Dawn strikes a new beginning
The sun preaches grace through its rays
As shadows cross, time keeps winning
But the timeless beat of my soul is praise

When the sun sinks below horizons red
The blackness of night blows its breath
And the inclination of my heart is to hide in dread
But it's then that the Son of Man appears again
in that valley of the shadow of death

And He proclaims victory and freedom to the prisoner and captive
He breathes life into dead men's bones and wet clay
This body He turns into a temple where His glory can live
And His commission resonates in these stones. "Lord, haste the day!" -josh

1-90

I love Thanksgiving. And I love when we pack our house here in Roanoke, Virginia so full of people that you can't think straight. This year we had about 26 adults and 10 kids. Suddenly, I'm not the kid anymore. But I did still get to do some kids things. Like run through the woods at dusk crunching leaves like a bad guy and scaring the kids. Fun stuff.

This whole weekend is pretty special actually. We celebrated 2 birthdays. The first birthday- Ella Hambrick. She turned 1. Ella's parents are good friends of mine from childhood- Jeremiah and Jennifer Hambrick. Jeremiah lived with my family during college while his parents were missionaries in Venezuela. He's an awesome friend.

The second birthday- Mayo Adams. He turned 90. Mayo is my great uncle on my dad's side. He's the model American hero. He flew a B-17 in WWII, was shot up many times, and was wounded in his 8th mission over Bremen. He loves Jesus with all of his heart. He and his wife, May, were never able to have kids, so me and my siblings are kind of like their adopted grandkids. I love them both dearly. I hope I'm still as mentally sharp, physically in shape, and spiritually shining when I'm his age.

The icing on the cake for this weekend definitely happens on Sunday night. I'm getting ordained into the gospel ministry. I'm stoked. It will take place at me and Tasha's home church in Henderson, NC, New Sandy Creek Baptist Church. And the best part about it is the fact that my dad, who is my life hero and mentor, will be performing the service. And a bunch of my good friends in ministry who have had a great impact on my life will be there as well to witness and attest to God's call on my life.

I'm not a crier. I will confess that I cracked a few tears during "United Flight 93," and "The Notebook." And I definitely cried at my wedding (tears of joy, to be sure). But overall I don't cry. However, I think I will on Sunday night. As I think about how good God has been to me. To have the kind of legacy that I have modeled from my father as he has faithfully lived out his faith in the pulpit and in the home, is humbling. To have the legacy of my mother who faithfully raised her children to love Jesus and taught us silly songs to remember God's truth, is overwhelming. So, yea, if I think about all those things, I'll cry. Because I'm grateful to the Lord for this heritage.

This is a weekend where we celebrate the Life-giver. Whether you're 1, 90, or somewhere in between like me, God has a beautiful canvass painting of your life in which He's waiting to add the first brush strokes or the final strokes. Either way, He's a perfect artist whose work is beautiful.

"Lord, (my) days are determined;
you have decreed the number of (my) months
and have set limits (I) cannot exceed."
Job 14:5

An 'Out of My Head' Week

Wow! So it's been a while since I've been able to post. Many of you know that I got pretty sick this past week. Turns out I had encephalitis (?), a virus that affects the brain and causes problems with normal motor skills. Some of you saw first hand last Sunday morning when I tried to lead worship but was having trouble making sense of anything. It was quite comical looking back on it. I don't remember much of it, but for example, Tasha said I tried to plug my instrument cables straight into the stage. Nice. I was also saying crazy things and talking out of my head.

Tasha said that when the paramedics came to our house Sunday afternoon they asked me whether I had any blurred vision and my response was as follows. First, I stared blankly at the guy as if he were mad and speaking incoherent rubbish. Second, I decided to respond and test his wits by saying, "Well, nothing else I can think of, except the makeup thing." Hmm.... not sure what that was all about. I think I know alot more about makeup than I realized. And when Tasha and I were walking down to the ER room, she told me that I began to tell her how we'd see Beth Moore at the judgment. I'm sure the Lord was speaking prophetically through me. Someone needed it. I'm sure of it. So, needless to say it was an interesting week, and the worst is over.

But I do want to say thanks to all of you who prayed for us during this time. We could defintely sense your prayers and the power of God working through them. Thanks to all of you for loving us. Hopefully, I'll be able to post pretty soon some of the things that God has shown me through this time, both serious and funny. Because if you saw me in action this week, you'd know that God definitely has a sense of humor.

The Family You Know

"Spend some time with the family you know" said a commerial I saw tonight advertising for The Sopranos, an HBO grammy award-winning drama. Maybe you saw the commercial as you watched football tonight. In an outright blatant slam against the traditional family, this commercial claims that you, the viewer, know the Soprano family better than your own and encourages you to continue in that endeavor. Sadly, that may be the case for the average viewer. I'm thankful to say that it's not for me.

You know, I'm still trying to figure out this whole blog thing. Because I think that most bloggers (and I can't say that I'm not guilty of this from time to time) feel that they finally have a platform for spewing incoherent verbage and waxing philosophical in a forum that just may get read. But as I sat in the living room tonight watching football with my wife and kids and eating week old popcorn with Areyna (she takes awhile to finish a bag), and thanking God for a beautiful day of worship, I couldn't help but think to myself that this is what really matters in my life. Enjoying my family as a priceless gift from God. And that's when I realized that that's what I want to write about. Those are the stories that matter to me.

And who cares if no one reads. I'll enjoy writing about and basking in the victories of my kids as they say new words and learn about life and God. As Zeke learns to blow bubbles with his saliva and Rainy learns to square dance with her bear. And I'll enjoy dating my wife and spending time together, even if that means a free date between Sunday services at Starbucks (thanks for the Frappachino's Tom). And I'll always spend time with the family that I know. And that's not the Soprano family. And I'll let this tragic situation with Ted Haggard be a sobering reminder to me about what really matters in my life, and that's purity. I'll let it bring me to my knees daily knowing that I'm no less susceptible to moral failure than he was; save for the grace of God.

Charlie Brown's Teacher

Today I'm teaching a bunch of wild 6th graders Language Arts and Social Studies. And I'm realizing really quickly that homeschooling is the way to go. I've been blabbing my mouth for 5 hours and I don't think they've heard a word I've said. I must sound like Charlie Brown's teacher to them. I've written things on the board that they have no intention of reading (Boy do I have great white board penmanship. Too bad no one cares). I think I could literally write the statement, "You may all immediately run out of this classroom and break something in the hall and get an automatic A just for doing so" and no one would do it. Because they're not reading it.

And I realize how God must feel when He steps into the classroom of my life and tries to teach me things. He must wonder why He repeats Himself over and over again when He knows that I have no intention of really learning. Because I'm too distracted with Leon's big orange eraser across the room. And He must wonder why He wrote things down in His book when He knows that I have no real intention of reading it. Because I'm too distracted with the love letter from 2nd period that's been passed around the whole 6th grade class.

I wonder if God ever wonders why He wrote such a beautiful love letter to his children when they would rather read a cheap imitation. I wonder if He ever stands at the white board staring at His perfected formula He has just written entitled, "How to Have Real Abundant Life" wondering why absolutely no eyes have picked up on this. Wondering why no single student has taken him up on his offer for an automatic A.

May I muse no longer. Instead, may I simply learn to read God's whiteboard and act on it. "Lord, make me a good student because you're a pretty awesome Teacher."