The Wonder of Willard (and Johnson)

It's the way of our world, it seems, to never admit our ignorance, but I don't mind telling you that I'm not nearly smart enough for Dallas Willard. I read The Divine Conspiracy several years ago and thought it was great, but, frankly, much of his writing and thinking is over my head. That's why I love what NavPress did in creating Renovation of the Heart in Daily Practice. I read this book over the course of a few weeks, but I'll go back and use it as a daily devotional. That's its gift. Short chapters by Willard that end with brief comments and "experiments" written by Jan Johnson. With this format, I can take the time to think through and digest and internalize Willard's wonderful insights on how we go about conforming ourselves as followers of Jesus. This book might never leave my nightstand.

The Starbucks Stops Here

I read where the big beans at Starbucks are up early and working late trying to figure out how to keep things brewing in a cold economy. I've got the answer: Breakfast blend. Simple enough, but it's the simple that always evades us, right? I'm not much of a specialty coffee (or tea) guy. I like regular, black coffee, no sugar, no cream. But when I go to Starbucks -- and the other look-a-like high-end coffee places -- they give me no choice but the flavor-of-the-day. How hard would it be to have a flavor of the day AND something they brew every day -- something a customer like me could count on? I'd vote for the breakfast blend and ask that they try not to burn it like they typically do. Doesn't seem too much to ask, does it?

Addendum: My friend Tom Addington, who knows more about coffee than Howard Schultz, says Starbucks now has an every-day brew: Pike Place. Kudos to Starbucks for responding to my request before I even posted it. Now that's customer service that might make me a customer again.

Our Neighbors’ Junk

An ice storm devastated our city earlier this year, and the cleanup process has taken weeks that are turning into months. At our home, it started by clearing the fallen tree limbs and repairing the damage to our home. After professional tree cutters pruned the trees in our yard, those branches were cleared, as well. All the branches, well over a ton for our yard alone, were piled at our street curb, and several weeks passed before city crews came through and hauled them off. The huge machines couldn’t get it all, of course, so yesterday I spent the morning raking and bagging the leftovers.

But that’s not all. Pine trees in the yards of two of our neighbors line the fences of our backyard, and those neighbors took a different approach to their cleanup. The limbs that fell because of the ice storm were collected and hauled off, but they didn’t have the trees pruned. So branches that didn’t fall – branches caught by other branches or that didn’t break off completely – remain high up in those trees.

When I look at those branches as they hang precariously above the fence, I suspect they they’ll fall onto the power lines and knock out our power. I suspect that they’ll eventually land on my side of the fence. I suspect that I’ll clean up my neighbors’ junk. And I know I’ll have the temptation to toss the limbs over the fence into my neighbors’ yards.

This morning, now that some of those limbs have fallen into our yard and suspicion and reality collided, I had this thought: There are lots of times in life when my neighbor’s junk spills into my life and I need to clean it up. If I’m filled with the love of my Savior, I’ll see the need and respond to it instinctively – out of love. If not, I’ll see the need and worry about how it will affect me and complain that I have to “fix” someone else’s problems. I might end up doing it, but more out of duty than love. That’s better than not doing it or tossing the problem back at my neighbor. But it still leaves me with the inner realty that I have my own junk. And I’m thankful that my Savior never hesitates to clean it up for me.

Winterdance

My friend David Jackson gave me the book Winterdance, the true story of how Gary Paulsen came to run -- and survive -- the Iditarod dog race. But it's much more than that. It's about his relationships with the dogs and nature and himself. It's a few years old, but still fresh and worth the read. I had never read Paulsen, but I know he's a popular author among teens and pre-teens, especially boys. Son-in-law Andrew read Hatchet, and I'm pretty sure son Andrew did, as well. Wife Suzanne has read several of his books and likes them. She's not a teen (although she looks like one) or a boy (and she definitely doesn't look like one), but she teaches school and often reads the books along with her students.