General topics / Randy’s family

Really, I’m not an Old Man!
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Really, I’m not an Old Man!

old man mugThe abilities that exist to market items for sale in a targeted fashion never cease to amaze me. This is particularly true with what I see show up on my Facebook page.

Some of what appears is quite creative. Being from New Jersey originally but now living in Maryland, I have had advertisements pop up for shirts that feature the outline of the state of NJ, with the distinctive red, black and yellow colors and symbols of the MD state flag.

But honestly, the picture featured here is truly offensive!  I regularly now see an advertisement of this coffee mug that says, “Never underestimate an old man with a doctoral degree.”  It is nice to have my credentials somehow noticed, but there are a number of concomitant insults.

First of all, targeting me with a coffee mug shows that they truly do not really know me. I don’t do hot drinks, especially coffee. My guess is that it tastes as bad today as it did the last time I attempted to get the vile liquid past my nose and down my throat. That was in 1988.

Beyond that, there are a number of problems with the picture and the statement. Notice that it is photo-shopped, since the lettering does not curve around the cup. Technically, it should refer to the degree as a “doctorate,” and notice also that the tassel is on the wrong side for a graduate. “Never underestimate …”

But clearly the most offensive item is the sobriquet and moniker that the targeted customer — me — is an old man! How in the world did they possibly come to that conclusion? I will bet anything that the neophyte techno-geek who wrote the algorithm that data-mined me is a little punk I could bury today in a bicycle race at any distance between 50 yards and 50 miles! DSC_0162

Another regular advertisement that has been popping up for the past three months is for Toyota Camry automobiles. This is because I did online research in January on the Toyota Solara (a type of Camry), seeing a used vehicle of this model for sale.

I did buy the car. Here it is pictured. I have always wanted a red car … all my life! And it is way cool!  I have never had a car of my own that is so new as a 2006 with only 107,000 miles! And why would I purchase this at my stage of life? Well, I wanted to do it before I die!

But truly, this targeted advertising is offensive!

Bucket List Check-off: Return to the Site of my First Million
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Bucket List Check-off: Return to the Site of my First Million

Bucket lists are a bit morbid, though I have a few things that I’ve been meaning to do for a very long time. I did one of them today. I returned to the site of my first million made.

I grew up in a hillside home that overlooked a country club that is as beautiful as any you could find anywhere. Overgrown trees and vegetation have much diminished the view from that location, but when I was a child, it was amazing.

Somewhere around about age nine / 3rd grade I got the idea that I could walk around the extremities of this golf course, find lost golf balls, and sell them back to the goofballs who hit them out of bounds. I would collect them by the hundreds, wash them really clean, display them in egg cartons, and sell the best ones for 50 cents each to golfers on the 18th tee.

My father was rather amazed at this, as there were some weeks in the summer at age 10-12 where I would make more money than he did. There were certain fields and gullies just off the fairways that were particularly good places for ball discovery.

There were a few occupational hazards. The terrain was very rough, there were stickers and brambles everywhere; and since it was a private club, I needed to stay out of sight of the grounds crew. Also, I am sure that my snake paranoia is sourced in this childhood venture. I was fortunate to not be subject to poison ivy problems whatsoever.

It has been about 40 years since the last time I walked the fields and woods around Harkers Hollow country club in Harmony Township, NJ … but I did it today. Some places look exactly the same, whereas others are entirely different. Fields that were my primary “hunting grounds” are now overgrown woods with 80’ trees and dense undergrowth.

Certainly there are no entrepreneurial little boys in the area. Without even trying at all, I soon had about 40 golf balls and could not carry them all. So, being a graduate of Cairn University, I built a cairn of balls in the woods just off the 4th hole – a tribute to one of the fondest memories of my childhood.IMG_1302

It was a great experience, as the area is even prettier than I remember it being as a child, even though the old homestead does not appear to be extraordinarily cared-for … having the appearance of maybe being a day-care house.

Don’t believe the hype that New Jersey is just one big slum or toxic waste site. It simply is not true.

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The picture does not capture how high on a mountainside I am. My house is in the trees to the right and above the clubhouse. The farm and hillside to the upper left of the clubhouse is where my dad grew up – he plowed all those fields with horse-drawn equipment – as did his father and grandfather.

This is somewhat like the view out our front window, though our house would have been 30-40 higher in elevation.

This is somewhat like the view out our front window, though our house would have been 30-40 higher in elevation.

The woods where these deer are standing was an open, high-grass field when I was a kid.

The woods where these deer are standing was an open, high-grass field when I was a kid.

Here is where I made my first million dollars - sitting on a bench at the back of this tee box - under a big maple tree.

Here is where I made my first million dollars – sitting on a bench at the back of this tee box – under a big maple tree.

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Bottom Rail on Top

In Ken Burn’s epic Civil War documentary, legendary historian Shelby Foote told the story of a slave who ran away from his master, joined the Union army and came back through the South and seized his own master’s plantation with his regiment. Seeing his former master in a lineup of captured Confederates, he says, “Bottom rail on top this time, Massah. Bottom rail’s on top now.”fences

That is quite a role reversal.

My current hospital foray – the first of my life – has put me in the category of living out a role reversal. I’m the patient, not the clergy visitor.

Yesterday, I looked up from my hospital bed at the doorway, and there stood Larry and Joyce Coffin. We just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, and all three of us broke into laughter like a group of elementary schoolgirls. Over the years and through all the surgeries and hospitalizations they have endured, I have very often visited them! About 30 seconds behind them, Ed and Sylvia House walked in, and we had to explain what we were giggling about.

IMG_0827[1]We all need each other at different times, and that is why the Christian life is supposed to be done as a group and shared experience in this thing called the church, even if certain idiosyncrasies or whatever that we all have become occasional annoyance factors. We can’t really make it alone; we’re in it together. So… spend all the time you can serving others, because a day is going to come when you need what someone else has that you do not at the moment possess.

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.

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The Get-Along Shirt

Many years ago I heard James Dobson of “Focus on the Family” say that the #1 frustration of parents was the issue of sibling rivalry. I don’t know if that could be statistically proven, but I certainly remember it being an issue of strife in our family past. It particularly got my attention the day a hammer went flying through the air to hit one brother running away from another brother after a verbal altercation!

get-along shirtI have several times on Facebook seen the accompanying picture. Isn’t that priceless? Why didn’t Diana and I think of this? It would have either solved problems, or so complicated them that we would have had fewer mouths to feed!

A “get-along shirt” like this was pretty much what the Apostle Paul had in mind when he wrote about a couple of women in the church in Philippi. He says, “I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you, my true companion, help these women since they have contended at my side in the cause of the gospel…”

These were not bad people; they were effective church workers and servants – commended by no less than the Apostle Paul!  But the benefit of their service was being very much marginalized by some inter-personal controversy surrounding them. It is likely that it also involved other people being put into a position of having to take sides with one or the other. Whatever – the end result was a church-wide distraction that simply did not need to be going on.

Again, I don’t know if it is indeed the #1 frustration of parents, but sibling rivalry and worthless dissention between siblings in the church family is just about the typical pastor’s #1 frustration. Lots of pastors would probably like to have the ability to put some people together inside the same shirt to make them get along! The issues are seldom of sufficient fire to account for the smoke accumulated. Would it not be so very much better to apply some other words of Paul on another occasion to another church:  May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.

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The above portion of this writing is for next week’s church newsletter. The following will not be a part of that, but for a moment of fun, I will give a Sweet Frog gift card to the first person (not named Buchman) who answers correctly the following two questions about the hammer flying through the air:

1.  The hammer was thrown by …

a. Nathan at Ben

b. Ben at Nathan

c. Nathan at Aaron

d. Aaron at Nathan

e. Ben at Aaron

f. Aaron at Ben

g. Nathan at Jesse

h. Aaron at Nathan

i. Jesse at Ben

j. Jesse at Aaron

k. Jesse at Caleb

l. Aaron at Jesse

m. Caleb at Jesse

2.  The hammer hit the less-than-fully-innocent victim in the …

a. head

b. back

c. buttocks

d. leg

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Structurally Obsolete – I Can Relate!

With a son who is a structural engineer working for a firm designing bridges, whenever I see a news story about a bridge collapse, it catches my eye. There is one such account in the news today about a bridge section that fell into a river yesterday in Washington State – north of Seattle. A truck accident caused the failure, which involved a couple of vehicles unable to stop and thereby plunging into the stream.

But here is the part of the story that caught my eye and … well … I found a bit offensive actually…

Bridge collapse in Washington State

Bridge collapse in Washington State

The bridge was not classified as structurally deficient, but a Federal Highway Administration database listed it as being “functionally obsolete” — a category meaning that the design is outdated … The bridge was built in 1955 and has a sufficiency rating of 57.4 out of 100, according to federal records. That is well below the statewide average rating of 80 … but 759 bridges in the state have a lower sufficiency score.

Hey, I take offense to this since I was also “built” in 1955!  Well, I guess I should take some encouragement from this, because, like the bridge, though I’m not currently rated as “structurally deficient” (meaning “dead”), I guess my horribly aching knees acknowledge that I am “structurally obsolete.”  That is a sanitary engineer-esque way of saying you’re “getting old and out of date.”

And like the bridge, which will have the broken section replaced with some artificial structure, I guess that is what awaits my knees … ugh!

One thing for sure, my bridge engineer son will never be without a job … nor will any orthopedic surgeon doing knee replacements. But when you think about it, they actually are both structural engineers.

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French Christians and Church Life

During our recent trip to Europe, it was a most interesting experience to visit with a church group that our son Jesse had become acquainted over his semester in France. It was truly a fantastic bunch of people. Jesse took the bold step of seeking out this church group through a contact from our (Tri-State Fellowship) French friends Tsiry and Barbara Andria.

The church is made up of about 100-125 people who meet in a facility that is located in a sort of shopping mall setting – like a strip mall of parallel rows. We went to a Saturday evening fellowship dinner that was an outreach event, having the specific goal of church people inviting their friends to hear a program consisting of several sketches, videos, and a message. I was able to understand and recall enough of my high school and college French to catch the basic idea of the program. They talked about how the world faces political and economic crises, but that the spiritual crisis faced by sin is actually a bigger problem – that though empires and great leaders have come and gone, only a relationship with Christ can fix the real problem faced by everyone. It was excellent.

IMG_0364On Sunday afternoon we attended a luncheon featuring a gathering of the young adults of the church at the home of a truly delightful college girl. Her parents prepared the meal, replete with course after course of appetizers, portions of the meal, and several rounds of desserts. So there were four “old people” there between the hosts and Diana and me … along with 16 young adults ranging in age from a couple of high school students through those in their mid 20s. It was a very, very sharp group of folks – as this area of France is essentially in what is the “Silicon Valley” equivalent to California.

The mother of the girl hosting the gathering spoke English quite well, as did a number of the young adults. All together, this group really helped Jesse with his French speaking skills – as the classes at the University Jesse attended were taught in English, so he was not getting more proficient through that.

One of the men of the church that I had met on Saturday evening – a fellow with both a French and American background – told me that the history of the church was “Brethren.”  I immediately presumed it was not any sort of Brethren that we may know of in the Tri-State area, but rather a group with British connections known as “Plymouth Brethren” … with a most prominent name of John Nelson Darby – sometimes also known as Darbyism. This was very interesting to me for a variety of reasons. Though there is no direct line or connection, many of the thoughts of Darby were further defined (I would say more accurately) by C.I. Scofield (of the famous Scofield Reference Bible and founder of my college) and popularized by the many well-known teachers associated with Dallas Theological Seminary. (The theological system is known as dispensationalism, and was much the foundation of my family’s faith system and love of Scripture.) Beyond that, Darbyists and Plymouth Brethren were known for the distinct views of shared/plural eldership and open meetings – for open sharing and teaching of Scripture. The former of these has always been a core value of TSF, while the latter was also to some extent in the early years when the church was small enough for this to be practical. This entire discussion with our hosts – filled with lots of translations by the more bilingual of the group – was very much of interest and engagement by a number of the young adults. It did not “blow over their heads.”

What I believe I saw in this church was the future of the effective church in America. We are, by all visible indicators, headed toward a totally secular, post-Christian, pluralistic society such as is in place today in France. But here in Antibes, France … on the Cote d’Azur (the French Riviera) is a group of Christians who are jointly members of a rather suspect minority in the culture. They are doing life together, almost in a 1st Century sort of way. There is a felt need for dependence and inter-dependence. The fact is that we all have the same need even in America, but we just don’t yet feel it quite so keenly. This church was a multiple generation church; and I continue to believe that this is the most successful model for true church growth that will be measured in terms of faithfulness and depth of ministry, rather than in numbers of people and flash and pizzazz. This sort of church takes work and personal and intentional commitment – probably well beyond what most of us are actively experiencing and living in terms of a covenant community relationship with one another. It is increasingly my conviction that we must do this or be essentially flushed by the coarsening culture.

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Living and Dying Things

Sometimes I just have to brag about my family. Our clothes washer just plain stopped working last week – like, nothing! It would not turn on. So, this is intolerable, since Caleb does more laundry than … well … ah … we never got to have a girl, as you know. But, his clothing has to not only be clean, it has to smell a certain way – like it does when he has gotten laundry back from Scott’s house, where Mrs. Long has chosen the world’s best fabric softener (which for the record is Downey). Anyhow … back to the broken machine. As you all also know, I have no patience with broken devices, machines, tractors, autos, etc. So, my wife researches it online, finds the components to fix it, has them expedited to the house, tears apart the electronics and replaces the circuitry to fix the dumb thing! I admit that I thought it was quite impressive.IMG_0244[1]

Since I’m naming guilty people in this post, I’ll name my fellow marathon-running buddy of the past – Bill Seiple – with whom I ran about 10,000 miles. You get to really know someone when you do that, especially when you are oxygen-depleted and you begin to talk about stuff you’d likely not say if you were in your right mind. We were both pretty amazed that we married well. He always said it was a man’s duty to marry up and improve his genetics. Well, he sure did that with Didi (as you New Jersey people can testify). And the truth is that I’ve done the same with Diana. She is pretty amazing with what she can do – like fix computers and washing machines, run businesses and deal with the IRS.

IMG_0246[1]OK, I’ve had the same clock for decades. It is the one that was sitting on the nightstand when I was a student at Dallas Theological Seminary. In those days, I worked evenings at United Parcel Service and would get home very late at night. Dallas Seminary was not a place for the faint-hearted when it came to academics, and the assignments had piled up on me. One evening, I knew I had hours of work ahead of me to finish a paper for the next morning. I also knew I’d be depressed if I was aware what time it really was, so, I set the alarm for the necessary time to get up, and I turned the clock around so that I could not see what time I would actually go to bed. After a number of hours of finishing the paper (on a typewriter!) I took a shower, got in bed, pulled up the covers, and at that instant the alarm rang. Well, that was quite an insult, and in that instant I smashed the snooze with a full-fisted ka-bamb! Somehow the clock survived… until yesterday. I guess the thought of facing another change to daylight savings time was more than it could endure in its dotage.

<Hold the presses!>  Late breaking story – I went to get a picture of it, and it is working again! This proves MY view of broken things – that may well have worked for the washer. If you give it enough time, it will fix itself! So, for example, with the car – just turn up the radio, and eventually the screechy noise will go away.DSC_0135 (1024x665)

And finally, there is Lucifer. I wrote about this on Facebook yesterday. He is my one surviving rooster. I’m not sure what happened to the other one; he just kinda disappeared recently. But my guess now is that he and Lucifer – who is a Black Jersey Giant breed – had a big fight. And though the other one was dominant all along, Lucifer had his day. NOW, Lucifer has decided that I am the next one who needs to be eliminated. He has decided to attack me whenever I’m not looking. Well, this really irritates me to be quite honest. I’m there bringing he and his 25 girls food and water, and HE is going to attack ME while I’m doing it!?!  So, we had quite a fight yesterday. I had a plastic milk jug in my hand when he made a rush at me – winging through the air with claws and spurs flying. He hit me pretty good a couple of times, but on most attacks I whacked him across the face with the jug – like 20-25 times before he finally gave up. I think I won the fight, but I was exhausted from it. If this keeps up, he is going to get to meet his father the Devil.

So, nothing lasts forever; but at our house, things are given a shot to last as long as they can.

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Duckie Always Has It Worse

So if you think you are having a bad stretch of life, let me tell you about our family friend “Duckie.” This is the favorite stuffed animal toy of both of my grandchildren. Yes, there should be a special place in heaven for all favorite stuffed toys of preschoolers.IMG_0154[1]

So here we are in Arizona for a “vacation” week. So far, of our travelling group of 10 people, the only one to not be more than just a bit sick is the mother of my daughter-in-law … who is a cancer patient on regular chemo treatments. Whatever the rest of us had, chemo destroyed apparently.

The most ill of us all have been the grandkids. And poor Duckie – he has been barfed upon, tossed twice into the toilet, had soup and food spilled all over him, and been stepped upon and thrown across the room. He is also regularly carried from place to place by people holding onto his beak! Along the way he has as well made several trips to the “hospital” by being sent through the laundry to clean up the last disaster.

Yep, it’s a Buchman vacation. So typical. I’ve even blogged about it in the past. We have had a couple of nice vacations over the years. The reason those stand out in my mind is because we have more commonly had TOTAL DISASTERS for vacation trips. You know how (I would think) the common experience for people on vacation is to wish it could continue and they don’t have to go home? Well, most of our vacations have been the sort that you are counting the days until you can get home again.

What makes them bad? Well, a couple of times it has been vehicle failures. A few times the accommodations were, well, less than what the pictures portrayed.  Many times it has been horrendous weather conditions like a solid week of heavy rain while camping somewhere (people in a canoe literally paddling through the campground). Sometimes it has been, like this trip, sickness that makes for … well … unhappy campers.

One of those experiences actually happened about 22 years ago in the area where we now live – about 3-4 years before we moved to Western Maryland (of course, not knowing we would ever do something like that). I remember we stayed at a large hotel alongside 81 in Martinsburg for an evening. Several of the kids (we had four at the time) were not feeling well – especially Jesse who was just a baby. The room looked like a war zone when we departed. We went to Antietam that day, hoping none of the rest would get it that bad. I remember parking in the area on the south side of the cornfield, and in the time it took for me to turn off the car and walk around to un-belt someone, two of them had thrown up! We just cleaned it up and drove for home.

So, it all makes for memories, right? Well, there are all sorts of memories. I think my vacation memories could use some shock therapy. But no matter how bad it gets, Duckie has it worse!

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Multiple Generation Stuffed Animals

As much as I am not very sentimental at all, I do have many introspective moments of every day that reflect upon the passing of time and the changes of places and people near to me. Probably much of this is due to my oft bizarre, unusual, and non-reconciled childhood.

The major theme I rehearse at church is one of generations – encouraging the vibrant relationship of multiple generations together and strategizing how to be successful in turning over generations TOGETHER.

But I don’t escape that theme at home. Seeing the family grow and expand (or try to expand … we’ve got some new people around this year!) is essentially the same theme of turning over generations. Every parent hopes the essential elements of faith and values systems are being transferred, and I find my mind constantly evaluating that.

I’m writing these contemplations on Christmas morning, sitting here with three generations of the family around me. It is not actually that early. I suppose most families have had the kids up early to see what Santa has brought. But we’re talking here about Buchmans. Unlike my father who never in his life slept past 6:30 or 7:00, these generations of Buchmans don’t do morning. We’re good with evening … but morning?… not so much. Along with this is the boys’ tradition of staying up late on Christmas Eve and playing a particular video game together for long hours.  And along with that even more, my grandson Hudson doesn’t sleep well, and everyone is a bit shattered from his tears all night.

But I had to laugh at how we are multi-generational, right down to the stuffed toys. As I write this, Bella is sleeping on the sofa next to me, hugging Ici (pronounced ee-see). This was her daddy’s favorite animal when he was a child close to 30 years ago now; it went everywhere with him, the name being his butchered version of our dog’s name back then. When Allie forgot to bring the kids’ stuffed toys along for the overnight here, Diana dug out the tattered old canine, and I see he ended up with Bella. So, even the toys around here are multi-generational.

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Psalm 145:3-4 … Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom. One generation commends your works to another; they tell of your mighty acts.

 

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How Big is the Number 315,000,000?

Thoughts on Mass Killings, Immigration, Sheep, and Bead Stores (I can string those things together!)

According to the U.S. Census Bureau’s population clock, the number of resident people in our country is right now just shy of 315 million. One person is born every eight seconds, though one dies every 12 seconds. Add an international migrant coming every 46 seconds, and the net gain is four people every minute of the day.

So, my question is: How big is the number 315,000,000?  Let me give you a bite-sized way of getting a grip on that number by the use of an illustration I’ve thought of in recent years.

Those of you who know our family well know that we own a beads jewelry craft store business in Mechanicsburg, PA that my wife manages. It is part of the franchise of such stores begun by our son and his wife – Potomac Bead Company – with locations in 12 different places in several states and Scotland.DSC_0074_01

Most years, I only ever see our store once – on New Year’s Day – the day when business people everywhere take inventory. Yep – inventory in a bead store! Instead of choosing to sell something like cars or refrigerators, my family sells little things – millions of them to be exact.

When you walk into our store, you are overwhelmed with a sea of colors flooding your eyes. I have always enjoyed the exclamations that come out of the mouths of people who walk in for the first time! The colors come from strands of thousands upon thousands, nay, millions of beads of all colors, materials, shapes, and sizes. The choices are so vast that it sometimes leaves folks with a paralysis of analysis as to what to choose to make something beautiful.

Most of the product is sold in strands of, say, 25-75 beads of the same material strung and hung on the wall. But there are tubes with hundreds of tiny little beads called “seed beads” that are also available. Pretty much anything you can put a hole through and hang on your person is available.

One year recently while doing New Year’s inventory, I did some math by estimation of how many beads were in the store – counting everything … strands, tubes, etc. – and I believe a good round number is about 6 million.

Now consider this:  It would take 52 stores the size of ours to represent the number of people that there are in the USA. Now imagine this:  Picture those 52 stores all on the same city block. Let it be known that in that mix of beads, every so often, one of them was going to be totally toxic to a wearer. How would you find which one it is … or which ones out of the millions were potentially harmful?

That is what it is like trying to figure out who is going to be the next killer in a school or mall.

I don’t see a solution that is an assured fix. It is a problem about 30 times worse than dealing with illegal immigrants. Saying that guns should be eliminated is about 30x more difficult than saying that all illegals should just be deported. Right … just do it. Actually, I probably exaggerated. It is only about 20x more difficult given the estimated number of guns in the country.  But you get the picture.

If we take the problem back to its most central core, the issue is one of sin and evil that exists in the world. We are all terminally affected by it physically. And through faith in the work of Christ, we are spiritually saved for eternity. Yet in this world we are hampered by its continuous presence and expressions, affecting us all in varied degrees, and affecting some in such extensive amount as to yield catastrophic consequences in their lives and the lives of others.

The spiritual issue is one of separation – especially from God and the perfect relationship we were meant to have with Him. That separation, that loneliness, that sense of loss and isolation … is felt more particularly by some people over others. We know that the world abounds with people who, while still having no eternal fix for their separation from God, have rather successfully compensated for it by filling their lives with all manner of temporary fixes and pleasures.

Yet there is another smaller population who never gets a fix of any sort … not spiritually, and not even temporarily here in this world. Due to one of a variety of reasons – many related to mental illness, which is a very real and pervasive problem – they do not fit in. Their daily lives are hour-to-hour reminders that they are isolated from what appears at least to them to be a normal life of relational happiness.

As a coach in a public high school, I see some of these people every day. For some reason, they don’t fit – be it physical defects of size or appearance, social awkwardness and insecurities, the gaping wounds of family dysfunction, or the effects of mental illness or some debilitating condition – they walk through the halls alone and in a sort of daze. This school experience is not fun; it is a daily hell on earth. Some days mocked; many days ignored; all days miserable.

So, for that one bead out of 315 million who has had enough of the pain of life; and when the combination of evil, pain, and mental illness combines into a stew of anger and frustration that overflows, what becomes a prime target for that outrage?  A school fits well at the top of a short list of such … as would a mall, certain work places, or other public places of gatherings of people – such as even a church.

So how to fix or prevent this? Well, only God can (and will) ultimately fix the basic root cause. Until then, removing guns from society or eliminating the tools or places of the expression of this anger appears wrongly directed in my view. It seems to me the need is to help people – seeking to reach to those who are most disenfranchised. Now, this argument could immediately be used to argue for more funding to promote mental health and social welfare programs … and yes, I’m one of those conservative Republican types who is a skeptic about fixing things by merely throwing more money at it. I recognize these programs have a cost, and I honor those who give their lives fully to work in such difficult fields of endeavor as mental health and social services.

My rant here is to direct the consideration of any reading it to a personal involvement where you are with those you know who fit into varied disenfranchised profiles. If you don’t know anyone like that, you must really be isolated. I certainly see them in school and have had them on my teams … but I can tell you that they are around churches too. They are everywhere. And though my job does indeed, yes, lend toward my responsibilities being involved with bolstering, encouraging, and discipling hurting people, I choose beyond it to have a handful of folks with whom I’m frequently engaged – people who are not especially lovely in their current composition, but who need human connection and encouragement.

Within the context of the church family, this is our primary duty of ministry. And just beyond the walls of our church, reaching lost people becomes the primary strategy. And down to the level of our individual lives, it is the expression of Christ within us: the Christ-like way of doing as he did, illustrated by the parable of the shepherd with the lost sheep … illustrated as well by the hosts of occasions where Christ saw the hurting individual when the disciples saw only the masses of the crowds.

There is a silent fulfillment of life in this undertaking. I will tell you though that at times, when you bring a sick puppy into your life, it bites you. But Christ came and died for us when we were sick dogs biting him (see Romans 5:8).

We can’t fix 315 million; nobody can, and no law is able to do so. But we can be an agent by God’s grace to help fix a handful of people around us.