I've been playing the trumpet a lot more lately. I recently re-joined Gateway Concert Band - a local community band here in the Enumclaw area. I think I chose the wrong time to join because I have only had two rehearsals with the band prior to this weekend's upcoming concerts. When I walked into rehearsal a few weeks ago I presumed that I would be happily cruising along playing a second or third part. Jack, the director handed me a folder of music and when I sat down I realized he had handed my a First Cornet part. Lot's of high notes, lots of fast moving black notes (all too tiny for my deteriorating eyesight) and lots of demanding music. By the end of my first rehearsal, I felt like I needed to put my lips in a sling and that I would never be able to use them again.

That was the day after my jazz group BY COMMITTEE had performed for nearly ninety minutes in our first ever "concert." (We had played for some dinner parties, a birthday celebration etc. This was a real live concert, with people putting money in donation trays to support our church's youth mission trip.) So, I thought I was pretty set to go. WRONG! When you are playing jazz, particularly in a group like mine, you may only play half of each song or less because the rest is solos. So 2 hours of rehearsal, playing nearly 75 - 80% of that time really had me worn out and discouraged.

Yesterday I recorded and watched a PBS televsion special featuring trumpeter Chris Botti. He is an amazing talent and a new phenom on the music scene. Blond, boyish looking, fairly small in stature, he can play the trumpet like few others. This show was recorded with the Boston Pops Orchestra and featured a number of special guests including YoYo Ma, Steven Taylor from the rock band Queen, several beautiful, sultry chanteuses singing classic jazz ballads and the person who really gave Botti his start in the music and recording business.

In between songs, he quipped that people often ask him what the secret to his success has been. He said he always answered with four simple things: "Practice, practice, practice and being good friends with (recording giant) 'Sting.'"

I don't worry about aspiring to any measure of the fame or greatness of Chris Botti. But there was something profound that struck me in what he said. First of all, you never get anywhere worthwhile in life without practice and hard work. Aren't you glad the Doctor performing surgery on your loved one went to school for long and then spent years honing his or her skill?

Due to my recent encounter with tough music and sore lips, I have been reminded of the necessity of practice. No matter how good I think I am, the final test is the music and whether I can play it. Without practice, it is unlikely.

The second thing about his "half-serious" remark that struck me is that where we go in life has a great deal to do with the company we keep. It's not that we get there simply by hanging on the coattails of others. But it is hard to become the person you want to or know you should be without keeping company with those who will encourage, strengthen, and hold you accountable. That's how we grow.

That's how Jesus prepared his disciples for the rigors of ministering the Gospel after he had ascened. The company of friends is a powerful force to help challenge and encourage us to go as far as we can using the gifts and callings God has given us.

This truism is revealed in a few different ways in my life right now. Judy and joined a new gym in January. One of the things that encourages and keeps me going is the knowledge that I might be (probably will be) asked whether I worked out today. If not, why not? The challenge of keeping up with Judy who is much more disciplined and regular at working out than I am keeps me going.

Same thing with reading the Bible. Knowing that I will be meeting with a group at the MINT tonight and leading a discussion over the portion of the Bible assigned for these seven days of the Through the Bible in 90 Days keeps me honest, accountable and on my toes. I am glad for that.

Tomorrow morning I meet with some fellow Presby pastors in the area. We meet once a month for prayer, sharing, encouragement and a little friendly, rear-end kicking if deserved. It helps us all be better husbands, fathers, pastors, and men.

So how do we get to be all that God wants us to be? Practice, Practice, Practice and be good friends with someone who will keep you going. Now I have to sign off and go practice Symphonic Suite and Celtic Dances so I don't embarass myself at the concert Sunday.

Keeping up with the times - electronically speaking (LOL)

I'm exhausted. My fingers are cramping up! My eyes are blurred and bloodshot. I need some coffee. Why this litany of complaint? Why all the discomfort you ask? Because I am trying to stay up with modern technology. Today alone, I have been asked to join three FaceBook groups; read two blogs; check out several YouTube videos and respond to innumerable, "urgent" SMS messages as my new Blackberry Phone merrily buzzed away in my pocket, signaling the arrival of yet another important communication. I have been invited into 2 instant message conversations on my computer while trying to write a sermon outline. Each time one of my online contacts signs in, I am notified by a little gong sound and notice of an IM conversation flashes across the bottom of my screen. Someone wants to talk. OMGWe laugh about it in our office because, though we are only separated by 20 feet distance, we tend to communicate with each other via emails or instant messages instead of getting up and walking to one another's office to talk face to face. Now there is a new voice is being heard. Perhaps you have seen it or heard of it. Maybe even some of you are doing it. "Twitter" is the latest way of staying in touch in real time. Just today I have heard at least three references to "tweeting" and Twitter.com. A person who is on Twitter can tell the world what they are doing at any given moment - as if we were all dying to hear the intimate, sometimes strange details of a person's thoughts and actions as they are happening. Dos anyone remember landline phones? How about stopping by someone's house just to visit or taking time over a cup of coffee just to get caught up with someone you haven't seen for awhile. No, we live in an age of instant, electronic communication. I for one don't know, understand, or really appreciate the value of some of the abbreviated codes. I refuse to end each sentence with the cryptic LOL (oops, I guess I just did). You'd think that for an introvert like me, the anonymity and safety of electronic, instant communication would be a welcome way of interacting with others. But something there is, inside each one of us, that longs for the reality of eye contact, human voice, and, at times, even touch. That is what the incarnation of God was all about.

In order to make God's plan most clear, the Lord- the Eternal Word or logos - took on human flesh and lived among us. He invaded our planet; ‘moved into our neighborhood.’ "We beheld his glory, full of grace and truth," John says. The author of Hebrews agreed when he wrote - "Long ago and in many times and many ways God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets. And now in these final days, He has spoken to us through his Son.He is the exact radiance of God’s being" (Hebrews 1:1-3) God made us as communal creatures. We long for contact. We hunger for personal relationship. Last week, I was at a conference and I saw a friend I hadn't seen in some time. I knew, via some of the unofficial channels of communication in our denomination, that he had been going through a rough time over the last few years. He'd had some health problems. More recently he had resigned his pastorate of 25 years. I had assumed he probably was hurting and I kept thinking to myself, I need to contact him. Every time I sat down to write an email, I thought to myself that it would be too impersonal. But then I just kept putting off calling him to make arrangements to meet. My fault totally - not his at all. We had a great talk. I appreciated his candor about his pain and struggle. I also appreciated that he was willing to share some valuable lessons with me.
We parted saying we would get together in person when there was more time to really catch up. I hope I don't drop the ball. Lord, help me follow through. Let me be a person to my friend; an incarnation of your love and grace. I think I'll text him right now and see when he can meet. Oh, oh, I feel my phone vibrating. Better check it out. L8R!

Reconnecting and Remembering

Judy and I are in the Phoenix area this week. Of course the highlight for us is the time we get to spend with our daughter Kresta and her family - particularly Sam (age 8) and Joesph (age 3). I have been out in the driveway shooting baskets more than I have since seminary days. Sam is a dead-shot from the free throw line and from the corner. Joseph likes to have me lift him up so he can "dunk." We've read books. We've played RockBand II (what a riot that is). We even had a small fire in the backyard fire pit and roasted (or torched) marshmallows. I continue t0 be gratefully amazed at the energy and resilience of kids.

I am also amazed at the innocent curiosity and wonder of discovery that these boys have. Yesterday, we went to a nearby Wild Animal Park and Aquarium. We bought the kids a yearly pass so they have been numerous times. I might have guessed the boys would be tired of seeing the same animals they have visited often over the past year. But each exhibit was a lingering experience of watching them stare with wonder at the incredible diversity and color and strangeness and complexity of the created order. I thought we might never leave the tank filled with Moray and Zebra eels. Of equal attraction to the eels was the rock wall at the base of the tank. It proved to be a wonderful climbing, balancing and jumping place. We got to feed stingrays, deer, ducks, goats and even a ravenous giraffe with an incredibly long, sticky tongue. What fun.

Coming to Arizona this time each year also affords us the chance to get caught up with friends from California. We met them in Las Cruces years ago but have maintained a close friendship ever since. Their daughter and grandkids live fairly close by and so we try to connect with them as they are often here visiting over the President's Day weekend as well. We had dinner with them at the ClaimJumper Restauarant and lingered over good conversation while gluttonously trying to finish off a huge, decadent dessert called the "I D'Eclaire" - a concotion made up of pastry, vanilla custard, ice cream, whipped cream and hot fudge. Until next year, emails and Facebook posts will have to suffice. It was good to see them face to face.

This morning, I had coffee with an old friend (friend of many years, not elderly) who served First Presbyterian Church in Las Cruces the same years I served Northminster. We were in a support group and together prayed over many family, church, denominational and personal issues. John was a true colleague and friend, a fact of which I was vividly reminded again this morning. John was also pastor to Judy, the girls and me at a critical time in our lives.

Halfway into our conversation, he asked how I was doing physically. "Had I recovered from the injuries sustained nearly 12 years ago in my freak encounter with a bus?" He then handed me a sheaf of papers he said he had been keeping for me for just such an occasion. They were email correspondences between friends and colleagues in Las Cruces and in the Presbytery of Sierra Blanca that took place between May 8, 1997 and July 10th the same year.

Unaware of at the time - and probably unintentionally underappreciated - these e-mails retold my story of injury, pain and recovery from a much different point of view. They reminded me of the sincere, deeply felt, prayer and concern that covered me from the first days after the accident all the way through my rehabilitation. Not only was my congregation at Northminster concerned, helpful and praying, our new congregation in Enumclaw was equally faithful in prayer and support. Most of all I felt such a deep appreciation for the bonds of love and collegial ministry that existed in that Presbytery, It was very moving for me to re-read some of these notes. It was also humbling to realize how faithful others were to me and my family during those difficult days. And it was also a reminder that in the 12 years that have passed since having been run over by a bus, God has been so gracious in healing me and taking care of our family.

Reconnecting with John gave me a chance to get caught up on his life and ministry, share in a good strong cup of Starbuck's coffee (with a couple of added shots) and remembering that God's love is unquenchable through the years. This morning I read from Song of Solomon these words:

"Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm;

for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.

It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.

Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away."

This trip has been a reminder once again of the power of love: the love of family; the love of friends; and most importantly the love of God - unquenchable, enduring, blazing hot. May that be your experience today, tomorrow and always.

What a Great Day!!!

I realized it has been nearly two weeks since I last blogged. I guess it could be because I have been under the weather a little lately. It could also be because our church is getting ready for its annual meeting. I think the real reason is that most of my spare time has been spent reading the Bible. I understand that most people might not think that unusual for a pastor - and in a sense it isn't. But this is different. I - along with many others from our church - are engaged in attempting to read through the Bible in 90 Days. That means about 12 pages per day of names like Shamgar, Othniel, Eliezer, Ophrah (no not Oprah although I am told that is actually what her parents intended to name her and simply left out a letter). Along with the strange names are the long lists of begats, the strange prohibitions of the Old Testament and the bloody sacrifices and barbaric battles. It is really eye opening and as I re-read these passages, I am aware of all sorts of details and images that I have glossed over in the past.

Have you ever noticed how God has chosen to use and to bless the most unlikely, imperfect people in accomplishing salvation's plan. That gives me great hope.

Early this week I was reminded of the plea of God's people "to have a king, just like the surrounding nations". Dissatisfied with the way God has delivered them and taken care of them from their journies in the wilderness to their conquest of Caanan, the Israelites seem to think that a human, political form of government can do a better job than God has done working through his prophet's and judges.

Some things never change do they? I find myself being caught up in the excitement, hope and optimism of a newly elected President. And in fact, I do believe that Barack Obama's election and inauguration as 44th President of the US is a milestone of epic proportions. I vascillated between tears and uncontrollable grinning then on to somber prayer for protection, wisdom and power for him. I was emotionally drained by the end of the day. I don't know how he and his wife and daughters made it through the long day of prayer services, ceremonies, parades and balls.

I know many are skeptical - and perhaps even bitter or angry. But what an incredible thing it is that an African American - the son of an African immigrant - could become President the very same week we celebrate Dr. Martin Luther King's legacy of freedom, justice and racial equality. And what an incredible gift it is to live in a country where the transition of power - even after a hotly contested political campaign - can take place peacefully. In fact, signs of new unity, hope and racial equality were as evident as the many-colored faces in the throngs of peopls who were present in Washington to witness this moving, historic occasion.

Perhaps the fact that President Obama seemingly sprang so quickly from relative obscurity is a sign of God's unique appointment and role for him in our world at this time. Like Esther, perhaps God has put him in this place "for such a time as this." In re-reading the Bible, so many of those that God chose to lead the people were not the people that the pundits and experts would have picked.

Having said all that about our new president and these historic moments, I need to bring myself back down to the reality that our country and this our elected officials are just part of an earthly and temporal kingdom - a kingdom that exists only because of God's grace. God's eternal plans and kingdom far exceed and out pace even the most thrilling, hopeful time in earthly history. In the end, we need to remember that we are citizens of Christ's kingdom first and of this earthly one secondarily. Ultimately our hope has to rest in Jesus' triumph and not ina political candidate or party platform.

So, I am jazzed about our new President. I believe better things are in store. I pray that he will be used of God not just to bring help to an ailing economy, but to restore our great country to the place of honor, respect, freedom, justice and equality that it has been in the past and can continue to be. But you know what, that can only happen when we as followers of the King of King live lives that reflect the values of an eternal kingdom.

I've rambled enough. My cup is empty. It is time to have another cup of coffee and finish getting ready for my Bible Study tonight at the Mint.

The face of homelessness

Today, at our ministerial association meeting, we discussed the problem of homelessness here on the plateau. We heard some heart-wrenching stories of families living in tents up in the hills east of us. One story was of a dad - a single dad - with a five year old son who had been living up in the hills east of town until the cold temperatures and snow forced them to come seeking assistance. The short version of a long story is that caring Christians through some of our churches and through Plateau Outreach Ministry helped this man walk through the maze of red tape and beauracracy to get help and they (he and his son) are now scheduled to leave the 17 foot used trailer they have been living in and move into a transitional housing unit where they can stay for up to 2 years. During that time, the idea is that work can be found, and roots can be put down for a quality of life they have not known.

That is just one story. Behind that story are the 15 or so other people or families who have come to POM seeking help just this week. Each of them has a story as well. Each one is a person created in God's image and an object of God's love. All too often though, they are forgotten or overlooked. Often the homeless become faceless statistics...numbers in some government report.

Some homeless are dismissed because, we assume, they have made bad choices in life; or they are alcohol or drug abusers; or scam artists who just are looking to live on society's dole or off someone else's sympathies.

Many homeless (sorry I don't have statistics) are people who should be under medical or psychiatric care.

Whatever the circumstances, homeless people have faces. And they have bodies with physical needs. They have souls.

Perhaps their existence strikes us with the fear that it could just as easily be us. Many Americans are just one paycheck away from losing their homes. With a job loss, a catastrophic illness, a divorce, or some other life changing situation, it is easy to see how tenuous our security in material things really is.

I don't have an easy solution or a spiritual platitude. I just raise the issue to raise consciousness. We can tell them about Jesus. But, if they are Christians and are still hungry or homeless, have we really shown or lived out God's love?

Our church is doing a program called "The Bible in 90 Days." We are slogging through some of the Old Testament Laws in Leviticus this week and there is some hard stuff there. Part of what it means to live under God's covenant is to take care of the stranger and the alien and the poor (Exodus 22:21; Lev. 19:9,10) The same thing is echoed in the New Testament when James says "pure and undefiled religion is this - to look after widows and orphans and keep oneself from being polluted vbyt world." (James 1:27) Jesus also demonstrated that kingdom living means taking care of the widow, the orphan, the hungry, the naked, the homeless and the jailed. (Mt. 25:31 - 46)

So, how am I going to deal with this? I really don't know. I admit, I am very uncomfortable when I am approached by someone who is obviously homeless and in need. I know one thing, I can't ignore him or her. I need to look them in the face and try to see in that face the face of a person whom God loves and wants to care for. Then I can decide what might be the best way to help.

An Old Friend

A few weeks ago, for reasons I really can't explain, I stopped in a pawn shop on the way home from Auburn. My eyes were immediately drawn to a wall behind the counter where a shiny, nickel plated with brass trim trumpet caught my eye.The unique finish and valves told me immedately that is was an early model Conn Connstellation, much like the one my parents had given me in 1965 and that I had played through high school, college, and seminary. I remember that gift as being one of the best gifts I had ever received.

I loved that horn. It helped me reach Colorado All-State Band, receive annual scholarships to Colorado State Music Camp in Fort Collins and music scholarships to the University of Colorado and Colorado State College. I played it for my audtion to the McAllister Conservatory of Music when I transferred to Wheaton College in 1969. I played it in "the Fred Davis Quintet" during the summers of my college years. I played it in churches, high school assemblies, and annually for the Memorial Day Ceremonies at Fort Logan National Cemetary in Denver. That trumpet and I were inseparable friends.

Inseparable, that is, until one sad day, as Judy and I were organizing and packing our things for a move to Renton Washington after my graduation from Seminary. We had many of our valuable things stored in our garage in the house we owned on Hudson Street. Somehow thieves had gotten into the garage and stolen several of our valuable possessions. Most valuable to me was that trumpet.

Seeing the same model (or one very close to it) in the Pawn Shop brought back a flood of memories to me. So, a few days later when Judy asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I hesitated, knowing it cost a lot of money, then bravely answered, "there is this trumpet in a pawn shop..."

A few days before Christmas, a wrapped package showed up under our tree and I knew it could only be one thing - the trumpet I had seen in the Pawn Shop. I couldn't wait to unwrap it and try it out. I am sure our neighbors loved hearing it on Christmas eve at 11:00 after I had unwrapped it. But it was just like I remembered it - smooth valve action, a dark sultry tone, and an ease in the higher register that I haven't enjoyed with the other horns I have owned since.

While we were in Chicago, during a break from Free-for-all Yahtzee, Lego Star Wars and silly movies with Davis, I took some time to go on line and read up as much as I could about these horns. Based on the serial number, the finish, and tubing, I found out that the trumpet Judy had purchased for me was a bit of a collector's item. It was built in in 1956 or 57 in Elkhardt, Indiana by the Conn company. It is a Connstellation 28A, the predecessor to the very popular, professional model 38b Connstellation. Similar horns, some in much less pristine condition than mine, were listed on Ebay and other online sites for 3 to 4 times what Judy had been able to purchase it for.

So, there is no real spiritual application to this blog today. Just a "note" of excitement, gratitude and nostalgia. I have spent about an hour this morning getting reacquainted with and playing this treasured gift. Those who know me know what a role the trumpet - and particularly jazz - has had in my life. Even though my calling to ministry has taken me in a different direction than that I had anticipated in professional music, playing has continued to be a great joy and passion in my life. Tomorrow, I will go join 5 other of my fellow jazz afficionados to rehearse for an upcoming gig. I can't wait to show off and see how my old friend will blend with the other members of By Committee.

What are your passions in life? What things from your past do you cherish? Sure, things like trumpets, or sport, books, or any other thing, cannot begin to take the place of family, friends and faith. But often they are a part of the grace God shows in our lives - gifts of grace if you will. Thus, they are things that shouldn't be locked away in a closet. God encourages us to use our passions for his glory. I hope that the new year will bring you great joy in dusting off blessings, skills, and special possessions and using them to bring joy and grace to others.

The Big Storm of '08

Storms seem to take on epic proportions in people's memories. The last few days of cold and snow flurries in Enumclaw will long be remembered as the storm of 2008. After all, Sunday we woke to a blanket of 2" of the white stuff - more where it had blown into drifts. Today, they are predicting additional snow although it looks like we could scrape by with just a trace. You would have thought that it was several feet deep with temps in the low teens or lower. School is closed today and we are in a quandry as to whether things at church should be cancelled.

Growing up in Colorado, and having lived in Chicago for 5 years, I know snow storms, and this is no snow storm...that is until it is recounted and retold over the next several years. "I remember the snow storm of 08. There must have been at least 3 feet of snow on the ground and sub-zero temps. The worst storm we've had in ages." In a few years it will have reached epic proportions.

Of course, my wife accuses me of looking forward to snow and ice on the roads just so I can go out and drive on it. She's right. Once, when we lived in southern New Mexico, we had a rare snow storm that dumped 14" of wet heavy snow. All the roads - including I-25 & I-10 were closed down. Did that stop the Davis family? Ha! Not a chance. We all piled in the family 4 wheel drive (an Isuzu Trooper) and headed to El Paso to do some Christmas Shopping. Closed highway - no problem. And we had the mall virtually to ourselves.

It reminds me of the storm of 1971. "the worst blizzard in years" according to some Denverites. Actually, I think it was just my mom who said that and she tended to exaggerate storms anyway. It was January 2 and Judy and I were due back at Wheaton College after the Christmas break and a friend had offered his car if we would drive back with his wife and two kids aged 6 and 9. We said sure. It was a cool car and these were close friends. Why not? What could go wrong?

When we woke up on Saturday morning, the day of our planned departure, there was about 8" of snow and it was still coming down hard. I convinced Judy's and my folks that I was a good snow driver and that, since we were driving East, we should get ahead of the storm and be able to outrun it all the way to Chicago. Yeah, right!

We spun out on black ice near Kearney Nebraska. We got stranded outside Lincoln along with thousands of others. It was snowing so hard that at one point I was walking in front of the car trying to feel for the side of the rode so I could direct Judy who was behind the wheel. They said the wind was blowing in gusts of up to 50 mph and the wind chill factor was well under zero. There were drifts of at least 5' if not more.

Some really nice people about a quarter mile from the highway took us in - half frozen, hungry, discouraged - then began leading others to safety and shelter. By the time evening had rolled around, over 80 of us were huddled in two adjacent homes. What an experience. Next day, the roads were all closed - but guess what? That's right, we forged on and 15 hours of drift-dodging, lane-changing, slow driving, we made it back just in time to shower and head off to our first classes of the morning. Ah yes, the storm of 71. Worst storm ever!

But I digress. Sorry about that trip down memory lane. As I was thinking about how inconvenient snow, icy roads, school closures, and all are I received a letter from one of the missionaries we support in Southern Africa. It told the horrible tale of cholera, AIDS, rampant violence and incredible inflation in Zimbabwe. Sometimes, I don't realize how good I have it.

Then when I got to my office, I read a prayer/support letter from a friend in Casas Por Cristo - an organization that builds houses in Juarez, Mexico. He spoke of how increasing drug wars, escalating violence, and the crumbling American economy had deeply curtailed their mission of building houses with and for God's people in need along our southern borders.

Both these situations - Zimbabwe and Mexico - were set in perspective of God's sovereign grace as our missionary friends have had to trust solely on Christ's reigning power to meet needs protect them and accomplish God's purposes in spite of dire circumstances.

I guess a little snow on the ground and some cold weather isn't so bad. Maybe God is going to work in my life today in some unexpected, gracious way. In the meantime, I guess I will stoke up the fire in the fireplace, pour myself another cup of coffee, and enjoy the beauty and peace of falling snow....and oh, yes, spend some time praying for my brothers and sisters around the world whose lives really are difficult. I guess the storm of "08 isn't so bad after all!