bierkergaard

I have been taking Paul's admonition to the Thessalonians literally "To pray without ceasing." So whatever I am doing or wherever I am, I am praying--for others. Not myself. So many of my prayers in my past have been about me. Or at least connected to me in some manner. Now I am praying as a party not connected closely with the person. A local Harley Cycle Shop burned to the ground, I pray that they get back on their wheels. An older guy on the running trail that I encountered today, that God would bless him. Supreme Court Justice John Roberts, that he be encouraged that he voted his convictions despite now being labeled a traitor to Conservatism. While lifting weights in my basement today, I prayed for the men who installed the HVAC system in the house over 20 years ago--whoever they are. It has been kind of cool. Praying as a matter of  default. Finding someone to pray for and praying.  

Talk about biblical parallels. Gotye's song " Somebody That I Used to Know" is an Edenic archetype. Male and female, naked, conflict, both blaming each other, shame, paint rather than fig leaves. All we need is a snake singing. A studio rather than the Garden. He: Now and then I think of when we were together...felt so lonely in your company. She: I think of all the times you screwed me over, having me believe it was always something I'd done.     The Fall of Humanity was mankind joining forces with Satan in his war against God. The battle was already in progress. Satan couldn't get to God directly on his own. He attacked His image-bearers and shattered them. In the fragmentation and fall-out, male and female attacked another and blamed the Serpent, refusing to own up for their own sin. Well, that hasn't changed. God pronounces curses and prophesies the coming of One who will crush the lying head of the serpent and putting an end to his smack talk--but

I was walking to our worship service on Sunday. I needed to swing by Square One Coffee first to claim my free cup of Ethiopian from the night before. Square One gives customers a complimentary cup of coffee to those who buy a bag of beans. Since it was 7:00 PM when I bought the bag--and not a good time to drink another cup of Java (I had already had one), I asked if I could swing by Sunday morning and claim it. Coffee dude behind the counter said "sure." He said he would be working. On the way to Square One Sunday morning, I was walking behind an older man on the sidewalk. He was frail with wisps of hair on his head. He began to sift through the trash can in front of him and grabbed a cup of coffee that had been thrown away still about 2/3's full. I didn't feel revulsion towards him which I suppose is a good first reaction. But, then I wasn't sure what to feel besides sorrow. Also, I didn't know what to do. To each his own, could be a reaction. If he want

There is only way to not have a broken heart...keep it cordoned off behind walls. Don't give it away. The trade-off is that the door to joy will also be nailed shut. Neither rain nor sun. Dark, dry, dead.   C.S. Lewis writes in his essay, "No Insurances Against Heartbreak", "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken....We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armour. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as the way in which they should break, so be it."  A broken heart can only by filled by an infinite love, a supply that does not cease and run dry. God. 

Yesterday, while meeting for our Sunday service, the day's topic was love. The general gist of the conversation was that we love because God first loved us. Our service is conversation versus lecture...something that is easier to do when about  15 people attend weekly. The funny thing is that the 15 people are rarely ever the same besides a few regulars and old-times like me who have been coming for about all of four months. Heck, I should have a name plaque on one of the chairs to honor my long-standing attendance like the pews in Colonial America. The pastor and his wife and kids are usually there, plus the lead musician Matt Wheeler . Otherwise, the deck is varied. If the service grows, it will be interesting to see the pattern/paradigm expand. Not sure what that looks like. Ah, church planting. I know the Pastor Ryan has lingering doubts about starting a missional community. Sometimes these doubts are more than lingering. They are lashing.  Veritas , the community of authe

I was watching that PBS show over last weekend called "This Old House" (or something like it). The sturdy and paunchy Yankee craftsmen show us morons how to do builds and repairs. Mostly, I just marvel, knowing that I have zero chance to learning much of anything apprentice-wise like from their show--besides just some general pointers--so when I have to pay a contractor to do the work, I will at least have some knowledge. The project they were working on was a restoration of a colonial era house that played some crucial role in the Ride of Paul Revere and early Revolutionary War happenings in New England. One of the craftsman was painstakingly stripping two hundred and thirty-six or so years of layers of paint from the original wood in the house. He was using heat gun to blister up the old paint. Hard work, long work. There was even lead in one of the layers of paint. This reminds me of how God works through the layers of our lives to get down to our hearts. His heat,