The Oregon Trail

"...give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 

Our last Sunday in Alpena was filled with tears as we said good-bye to many who we had come to love and care for. We had a huge luncheon in the auditorium where we were able to celebrate and remember all that we had done over the past 12 years.

The highlight was a video that a Chinese church had sent to welcome us. It was a way that our church family in Alpena would always be connected to our new and future home in Oregon.

Deb had been ferociously packing up the rental house we were living in at the time. If you have ever moved you know the feeling of those last couple of days. You are trying to remember where everything is packed and it always seems to happen that you need something that has been packed away in some box somewhere. It is a picture of life in transition.

Tuesday comes and early in the morning I am down at the Penske truck rental place. We have a problem. They don’t have a car dolly to pull my car behind the truck. “We never received another one to give you,” they apologetically said. I thought to myself, “And the trouble begins….”

Oh, how little faith I had.

They quickly followed up and said, “We’ll have to upgrade you at our cost and give you a car port that you can actually load your whole car upon.” It wasn’t trouble that was to follow us; it was God’s blessings.

We had hired a loading company to come and help us pack up all our belongings.They too, were so gracious in giving us free boxes and actually packing things so that they would stay safe.

We packed up all the belongings that could go and by two o’clock that afternoon we were looking at Lake Huron and the city of Alpena for the last time.

I was thankful that I grew up on the farm. That big old 28 foot truck and trailer reminded me of hauling all those loads of grain to the farm or to the elevator, so I had a measure of confidence.

The diesel truck was a bit loud on the inside so I couldn’t turn the radio on and hear Deb at the same time call me on the two-way radios that we bought. It would make for a lengthy time of self-contemplation and singing to myself for three and half days.

When we hit Indiana to celebrate Thanksgiving with our children and Deb’s family the fog became so terrible that we could hardly see the road. In fact, I actually had to pull off the highway because I knew that their road was coming up but I literally could not see it. I had spent a good part of my adult life in that area and for the first time I felt lost. I eventually found the road and was never so thankful to get out of that truck as I did that night.

We enjoyed our family that Thanksgiving, said our goodbye’s, and looked for Interstate 80. It would be our friend all the way to Utah.

We were a bit worried about the drive across the country in the latter part of November. We have seen some pretty horrible winter storms that have rolled through the mountains and the prairies at this time of year.

Deb’s uncle, an over-the-road truck driver, was telling us all kinds of horror stories about getting stuck in storms and having to pull over for two or three days in out of the way places.

“You probably need chains to get over the mountains” he said.

I was thinking that maybe Deb and I could just drive down to Arizona or Texas, skip the mountains and wait for next spring. I didn’t realize that if you want to skip the mountains you would have to drive down to somewhere in southern Mexico and my Spanish wasn’t that good anymore.

Again my lack of faith was showing.

I didn’t have any chains for the truck and didn’t know where to get any at that short notice so went just headed out in faith.

We had planned traveling 3 12 hour days and one 8 hour day to get to our destination. Best Westerns became our home away from home as we made reservations at each place for our next Best Western destination.

Things we’ve learned along the way:

Nebraska is a very, very, very long and boring state.

Diesel for Penske trucks is often hard to find so start looking when your tank is half empty.

There is nothing in Wyoming except tumbleweeds and Cabelas Hunting Fishing store.

And make sure that your stuff is tied down on your truck if you’re traveling through the mountains.

We didn’t hit any snow in Wyoming but when we got up to the top of the continental divide we hit 50-60 mile an hour winds.

My hands hurt from holding on to the steering wheel so hard that day.

In front of us a pick-up with all kinds of camping gear went ahead of us that day. They forgot to tie things down as we dodged sleeping bags, clothing, and other assorted and lose things that continue to fly out of the back of their truck that day.

I also thought that I was going to have to have Deb tow me up some of those mountains. My foot was pushed as hard as it could go to the floor and I was racing up at a high speed of about 30 miles an hour. Coming down I was trying to remember how to use my brakes so that they wouldn’t burn up. I was also trying not to miss our next stop in Rock Springs.

We were getting travel weary and wondering if we would ever get there. And I had picked up an unwanted souvenir somewhere in the boring state of Nebraska – a head cold. We needed some encouragement, and God provided it in the most unique way.

Cynthia Acquino was a woman who attended our church in Alpena but who had family in California. She had just lost her husband to cancer and told us that she would find us and meet us on the way back to Michigan. So in Rock Springs, Wyoming, two native Hoosiers, were having supper with a former congregation member from Alpena, Michigan. It was as if God was saying to Deb and me, “Stay encouraged.  You’re almost there.”

At the end of our third days drive we entered into the great state of Oregon. I cheered in my truck cab, “We’ve made it.” “We have made it through the mountains and are now heading toward the left coast.”

I should have looked at the map to see how far I still had to go and what lay ahead.

The truck started to go up hill again and now I was driving in the dark...in the mountains…which I thought I had left. There is nothing worse than driving a big truck pulling a car up and down unfamiliar mountains at night.

When would this day be over?

We finally made it to our destination – Baker City, Oregon. We were both extremely tired and we were so ready to be at our new home. We ate a late supper and said to the waitress, “We’re out of the mountains, right?”

She paused.

Not a good sign.

She said, “I…don’t think so. In fact, the worst is yet to come.”

I didn’t sleep well that night. And…the temperature dropped down into the twenties.

If you don’t know what the means, it means that diesel trucks don’t like to start when its that cold unless they are plugged in over night – which ours wasn’t.

We ate a quick breakfast and I prayed, “Please God, start this truck.” It cranked over and groaned as if it were being punished for something. I think it was saying, “Leave me alone and wake me up in a few more hours.” But the second time she gave in and I kept my foot on that fuel pedal just in case she needed a little encouragement.

Deb and I headed out for our last leg at around 7 am. We started driving and Deb calls me on the radio. “I think our waitress lied to us.  If this is as bad as it gets we’re good.”

She didn’t lie to us.

The ascent began. Up and up and up we went and then we hit the sign across I-84.

“Caution:  Dense Fog alert”

“7% grade descent”

So in other words, I’m going to be going down a very, very steep mountain and I am not going to be able to see anything in front of me. Thank you, Lord.

We started the ascent and it wasn’t long before Deb calls me on the radio.

“Did you just see the sign?”

I said, “You mean the one that said, “Deadman’s Pass?”

She said, “Yes, that one.”

I said, “No, I didn’t see it and I don’t want to see it.”

I was never so glad to see Pendleton in my life.

It was flat. It was Indiana corn-field flat.

Yes….we made it.

Not quite.

We hit the wind tunnel called the Gorge, and then the traffic of I-5.

We finally turned into Forrest Grove Apartments in Tualatin. We arrived to an apartment that we had rented on the internet. We had never seen it before. But in all things God was good.

A year later and we can honestly look back and truly see how God was with us in every aspect of our trip.

We didn’t have any mechanical breakdowns.

We found fuel when we needed it.

We didn’t have any snow or heavy rains the whole time we went through the mountains.

The truck started every morning.

The apartment was perfect for meeting our needs.

We had wonderful brothers from CFBC to help us unload in about an hour or so.

And I was able to return that truck to Home Depot and go to bed an Oregonian.

And that was just the beginning of God’s blessings.

We have been here almost a year and there is not a day that we don’t get up and give thanks for being here in Oregon and here at CFBC.

Every Sunday as we turn east on Sherwood-Tualatin road we look for that clear sky and are reminded of just how big our God is as we gaze upon Mount Hood.

It is a great reminder of His mighty hand and why we are Thankful for his protection, provision, and His love today. 

Joyful Expectation

2 John 1:12, "I have much to write to you, but I do not want to use paper and ink. Instead, I hope to visit you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete."

Its been a little over a week now since Deb returned home from her six weeks stay with our youngest daughter, new baby, and new location to live. 

The sacrifice was honorable but I'm glad to have someone else in the house again, even if we aren't in the same place most of the time. Because of her absence I now own another 150 pairs of socks, another 50 items of underwear, and have proved that one can actually wear the same shirt 40 days in a row. I am also on a first name basis with the girl at Taco Bell and my favorite cashier on register number 10 at Fred Meyer.

Just joking...I received exact instructions on the clothes washer and dryer and several days of meals were wonderfully prepared for me before I left. And yes, the bed was made every morning. 

Deb and I have never been apart for that long in our entire 31 years of marriage and I hope we don't have to do that again. It made the departure like pulling a bandage off quickly and the flight home light a return from India rather than Indiana. 

I am a people watcher and just enjoy the creative differences of our God. Not a single person is the same. Even identical twins are not identical in every way. And as I sat expectantly awaiting my bride to arrive I saw the most joyful things. 

It was late in the evening and things were fairly quiet. It was obvious when a plane unloaded - lots of people funneled through the airport to make their way to their final destination. Those who were anxiously awaiting loved ones began to stir and to stand and to pace and to stand on their tip-toes looking over the heads of the ones coming toward them. And one by one those around me jumped up and rushed toward their hearts desire. Lots of hugs. Lots of kisses. Lots of tears. I didn't even know these people but I was so happy for them. If they would have motioned for me to come I would have joined in the group hug. It brought joy to my heart to see people greeting each other with such love. I couldn't wait for my turn. By the time Deb arrived I was so emotionally exhausted from all the joy shared with my fellow Oregonians that I stayed in my seat and tried to blow her a kiss. It came out more like a cough and I think by the response of the man in front of her that my kiss may have hit the wrong person. I thought to myself...everyone needs to have someone greet them at the airport with a hug and a kiss (I wrote PDX about my new ministry but they have not responded as of yet). 

Someday our Savior is coming back to fully redeem this ole body and this old world and I can't help but to think of the all consuming joy that I will feel at his arrival. I just hope His plane is on time. 

Simchat Torah

Simchat Torah is the last Sabbath of the Feast of Sukkot or Feast of Tabernacles. The Feast of Tabernacles is the third and final fall feast (Feast of Trumpets or Rosh Hashanah, lit. head of the year and Yom Kippur, lit. Day of Atonement are the other preceding fall feasts). It declares the goodness of God through His abundant provision and care during the wilderness wanderings of the Jews.

I had the privilege of attending Sinchat Torah at a Jewish Synagogue in Portland with a Chinese student from George Fox on this night. Two strangers:  an Irish/German and a Chinese guy walking into a Jewish synagogue --- sounds strange enough doesn't it. But they were very welcoming and gave us directions so as to not offend. 

First, the yamacha's were placed upon our heads. My Chinese friend had really high poofy hair so it looked a little weird on him but it went well with his plaid tennis shoes. 

Next, assigned seating -- men on the leftt, women on the right, separated by a wooden partition with glass at the top - very traditional and happens in many orthodox churches. 

We were given two books. One was the songs to sing as we closed out Simchat Torah and the other as we began the bereishit bara - the new cycle of reading through the Torah again. 

Almost the whole service was in Hebrew. I took this in Seminary and can still read it (somewhat) but it was a whole other experience hearing it spoken and sung. Like any foreign language I wanted to stop the service and say, "Slow down" but since I was a guest I didn't think it prudent. Every once in a while the young rabbi would call out a page number and we faithfully turned - proud that we were able to participate in some small way. 

The service was short - only 45 minutes in total. It was not their full Shabbot service which is 3-4 hours including a lunch. It speaks to community that often is lacking in Protestant churches. There were no instruments in the church - only the voices of worshippers. Not always on key or in timing with each other but they lifted up their communal voices as best they could. I had gift envy. If only the Holy Spirit would give me the gift of tongues I could have sung with them. But alas, the heavenly fire did not fall. 

The sermon was short - maybe 5 minutes. As he began to introduce Genesis he said that it was a book of lessons, lessons about righteousness. "Although a righteous man falls seven times he will rise but the wicked are brought down by calamity," says Proverbs 24:16. Righteousness has to do with a man's ability to rise in the midst of his failures. Righteousness is the obedient pursuit of the law. I wept inside. 

Torah will never be able to make a man righteous. It will make him a good, moral, man, but it cannot make him right before God. Deuteronomy 27:26 says, "Cursed is the man who does not uphold the words of this law by carrying them out." We are all cursed because we cannot carry out all the law. It is why Paul tells us in Galatians 2:13, "Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written, 'Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree' (Deut. 21:23)." Jesus was cursed not just because he was murdered and hung on a tree like a common criminal (which he was) but because he was an innocent man who, indeed, did keep all the commandments and become our substitution. We were cursed and should have been the one identified as the criminal but he stepped in and deflected the wrath of God by letting it hit him. 

Second Corinthians 5:21 tells us so wonderfully that "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." It's not in deeds that we become right with God but in responding to the finished work of Jesus. 

My prayer is the same as the Apostle Paul - that some day the Jewish people will recognize their Messiah and come to know the true Word, Jesus, as their Lord and Savior. 

Am I My Brother's Keeper?

"Now Cain said to his brother Abel, 
'Let's go out to the field.' And

while they were in the field Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him. 

Then the LORD said to Cain 'Where is your brother Abel?' 

'I don't know,' he replied, 'Am I my brother's keeper?'" 

I don't think that I have ever been so nervous as I have these last few days regarding the President's adamant decision to strike Syria for atrocities against their own people. I hear our "representatives" giving us "reasons" for spending millions of dollars which we do not have to exact "justice" upon people that we have selectively chosen to deem our "national interest." They tell me that this is about principles. What principles? Is this another "just war"?  Death is death but for some reason chemical weapons are different. Have no mothers, fathers, and children died through bombings and gunfire? Are bullets, shrapnel and falling buildings discriminant? What principles are we really fighting for as a nation? I wish our elected officials would tell us and perhaps we would empathize a bit more with their potential decision. If our President has called our nation a post-Christian nation then what values other than the Judeo-Christian ethic are being considered? What sense of "right" is governing this decision. I just cannot believe that we will do this when the Arab League is condemning this. Europe as a whole is condemning this. Israel is handing out gas masks as I write this and bracing for an all out Middle East explosion, and the Islamist are praying that we give them another reason to exact "justice" upon the "Great Satan". 

Can we please call this for what it is, "Saving face." Would not the most principled thing be to admit that one did not adequately think about the consequences before one spoke?" There are times when strength is found in both reason and humility. But there is no "I apologize. I was wrong. I spoke before consideration." In our great capital there is no humility. And I fear that we shall pay for this action and not recover; not from the Muslim world but from God.
"I resist the proud," God says. He will abandon us to the consequences of our own sins. 

Oh, Church of the Living God, may we be like Ezra, Nehemiah, and Daniel in those chapter 9 prayers of contrition. May we rise up and confess our national sins of pride to a merciful God and find mercy. May godly people stand in the gap and pray for those who are not. Let us pray for the good people who are trying to do the right thing but without the counsel of God. Let us come against the spirit of confusion and delusion. Instead of killing Bashar Al Assad, why are we not on our knees praying for his salvation and the salvation of his people. "If by the sword you live, by the sword you shall die." That not only goes for Syria but for the U.S. as well. 

I was in a suk (sook - a shopping plaza) in Damascus, Syria less than ten years ago. The people were the kindest I have ever met. Middle Eastern hospitality puts us to shame. Time and time again we heard, "We hate your politicians. We hate our politicians. But we love the American people. They are the most generous people in the world." Herein lies our greatest strength - love  through a generous spirit. 

It grieves me to think that many of those friends are now displaced and possibly killed. Families that I once had supper with until midnight...singing, enjoying life...


The Lord speaks to my heart, "Where is your brother?" 

I'm afraid my answer is, "I don't know, Lord. What am I to do but pray and weep for him. His blood testifies against us from the ground."

What to do when worlds collide?

"So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer." (2 Cor. 5:16)

 I love these words from the Apostle Paul. They have been a source of conviction for me lately. God has been working with me on some personal prejudices for which I am ashamed to say still reside within me. But it is part of my quest to be "the image" of God in Christ and through the transforming power of Christ. 

I have been reading some mentally challenging work as of late and I would like to offer some nuggets of truth to help with a world that seems to be colliding internally. In my world I have to deal with a secular community that is anti-God, pro-whatever-sexuality-you-want, homeless squatters who look as healthy as a good horse but love living off my hard work and tax dollars, etc... I would love to show them what the Bible says about such things but...alas...they don't believe what I believe about the Bible and don't much care what it says. Hence, the collision that is inevitably coming. 

I quote from Lesslie Newbigin and The Gospel in a Pluralist

Society. This is from chpt. 5 - "Reason, Revelation, and Experience.

"In contrast to the long period in which the plausibility structure [in other words, the way a community determines if something can be true] of European society was shaped by biblical tradition, and in which one could be a Christian without conscious decision because the existence of God was among the self-evident truths, we are now in a situation where we have to take personal responsibility for our beliefs. When we do so we are immediately faced with the charge of subjectivity. In a consumer society where the freedom of every citizen to express his or her personal preference is taken as fundamental to human happiness -- whether this personal preference is in respect of washing powder [soap] or sexual behavior -- it will be natural to conclude that adherence to the Christian tradition is also simply an expression of personal preference.  The implication will be that claims to universal truth are abandoned and that we are back again in a relativistic twilight. The only firmly established truth is the truth of the reigning plausibility structure, which is bound to deny the Christian's claim that God has acted in historic events to reveal and effect his purpose for all humankind. 

How then do we deal with the threat of this relativism of consumer-oriented society? It is that one learns to live so fully within both traditions that the debate between them is internalized.  As a Christian so to live within the biblical tradition, using its language as my language, its models as the models through which I make sense of experience, its story as the clue to my story, that I help to strengthen and carry forward this tradition of rationality. But as a member of contemporary society I am all the time living in, or at least sharing my life with, those who live in the other tradition. What they call self-evident truths are not self-evident to me, and vice versa.  When they speak of reason they mean plausibility, but know what it feels like to live in it. Within my own mind there is a continuing dialogue between the two. Insofar as my own participation in the Christian tradition is healthy and vigorous, both in thought and in practice, I shall be equipped for the external dialogue with the other tradition.  There is no external criterion above us both to which I and my opposite number can appeal for a decision. The immediate outcome is a matter of the comparative vigor and integrity of the two traditions; the ultimate outcome is at the end when the One who alone is judge sums up and give the verdict."

To summarize:  What to do when world values and beliefs collide? Seek to understand and live out your Christian faith strongly so that through validated experience you can pass on your tradition of faith. Realize that other people do not share your reality. They don't see God in their lives. They have never knowingly experienced Him the way that we have. Their eyes are "blinded" so that they can only see the reality of this world and not God's. Seek to understand it so that you can live in the two. You cannot appeal to the Bible just as they cannot appeal to...whatever truth base they have. In the end God will be the judge of the true reality. Hope this helps. 

King Lute the 1st

In light of the the Tennessee couple who wanted to name their baby boy "Messiah" I've been thinking about asking my mother if it would be O.K. to change my first name to King:  King Lute the 1st. It has a great ring to it, doesn't it? Actually, I'm going to add it to my name so as to not offend my parents: King Daniel DeWayne Lute, the 1st. And hopefully in three or four months we can add Dr. to it with of course my ordination title: Rev. Dr. King Daniel DeWayne Lute the 1st. Thank God I didn't have this when I was in kindergarten but the thought of having six names is good for my self-esteem. I feel good about myself today. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOCNY9pJ850 

The problem is that Rev., Dr., and King are not first names but titles. They are words of honor given through hard work or through a society's favor. 

Some would argue that Latin American parents have been gracing their male children with the name Jesus for centuries and that would be true. I actually know several European men who have Maria (Mary) as their first or middle name. And we have recorded in Hebrew many children before the time of Christ whose name was Jesus or Joshua in hopes that they might be the actual coming Deliverer, the Jewish Messiah. 

But having the name Jesus and being called Messiah are two different things. It was either presumptuous, ignorance, or insensitivity on the parents part to call this young child "Messiah." In a non-religious context this would be like giving a child the first name "president." Yet another example of parents needing a lesson on social graces. I wonder how many First Nation parents have tried to call their baby boy, "Chief"? Or any Arabs by the name of Allah?

"Messiah" means "anointed one." It is a title given to Jesus as God's one and only Son and therefore is a nomenclature reserved for Him and Him alone in the Christian faith. 

Names do mean something. The Jewish people were careful to give their children names that connected to God or to events. In the book of Hosea we see God actually giving names to Hosea's children that were actually prophetic. My first name, "Daniel" means "God judges." 

These days parents are thinking about how "cool" it would be to give their child a name that will stand out and be unique from every one else (probably because they have such low hopes for their children). News flash! Seven hundred and sixty-two babies have already been named "Messiah." Seven hundred and sixty-two children are going to have to live up to a pretty high standard. 

I guess from a Christian perspective I'm tired of the world highjacking words and titles so that they gut them of their meaning, trivialize the meaning, or...make the word or title something contrary to their original meaning. 

If I were to have kids again I would probably try Dr. Seuss (Thing One and Thing Two) or some bizarre made up name. Perhaps I would try some of the non-letter names like the pop artist Prince chose (?, *,&, $, @) or better yet, just randomly choose something from Wingdings. 

What's in a name? Everything or apparently nothing except "cool". Your kid will have to deal with it for the rest of his or her life. Choose well. Choose with dignity and honor. Choose honorably. Choose graciously. Choose prophetically. Choose reverently. 

This has been a regal word from the Very Rev. Dr. (to be) King Daniel DeWayne Lute the 1st or as I'm known around the corn fields of Indiana, "Danny." Oh...and for those reading this and completely lost...my first name isn't "Pastor."

An Unholy Blemish

"Just as the Lord put aside the riches of His divinity, and by His poverty enriched man, offering to him the 'abundance' of His life and love, so too, man sets aside everything that has become life for him in this world, so as to establish all his being in readiness to be a dwelling-place for God."

In my recent research of evangelism techniques and revivals I have 
been amazed at the statistics the bear out the inflated successes of many of the so called "evangelism crusades" or "revival services." We have denomination records that bear hundreds of thousands of people who "claim" to have accepted Christ but not more than a month later the churches are still as empty. When contacted for discipleship opportunities they are disinterested and even hostile. Denominational cosmetology. 

There are those who will say that they made a decision out of emotional manipulation and others who will say that they honestly accepted Jesus but didn't know the package deal that it came with. In other words, embracing Jesus was simply an addition to the other gods in one's life. They didn't understand that embracing Jesus is not an addition to one's life but a radical replacement of one's life. It is moving from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. It is moving from the walking dead who stumble to the awakened who step with clarity. It is changing one's "make-up."

The more that I study and meditate on the real meaning of being "born again" and systems of thought to convey that meaning I find that I, too, have retained some unholy blemishes that I have sought to cover up. There are areas where I have brought in the gaunt, stillborn child and have not seen the rebirth, the new creation of God. 

I have tried to visualize this for motivational

purposes and it helps me quickly realize that I don't want to look like this in the spiritual realm. It is a mutation of what God desires for me. After all, what is a partially born-again person but one that is self-deceived. As the old saying goes, "You can't be a little pregnant. You either are or you're not." 

Embracing Jesus' wonderful love and sacrifice is the easy part. It is giving up the other gods that tend to be so difficult. It is a willingness to be seen without the cosmetics, the spiritual facades. 

May God grant us an awareness of our spiritual complexion. May we look into the divine mirror and find that which is dead and rotting. Deceived, we still believe that things will change, that we can transform the disease, that the same spiritual cream we've been using will eventually bring about the desired result. But it simply acts as make-up does - to conceal. May God grant us dissatisfaction until we experience the cure - a true change in our "make-up."