by Mike Herzog

“the word became flesh and moved into the neighborhood…” john 1:14, the message

last week at the refuge we talked about the spiritual discipline of incarnational relationships. it really got me thinking…

christians try to convert the atheists, parents try to convert their kids to positive ways of behavior that will make their lives much easier and fulfilling. and addicts (alcohol, drug, sex, food, control, work, codependency, money, untruthfulness….you name it) drive present addicts up the wall with their incessant preaching. let’s face it, we all have an agenda. Read the rest of this entry »

Some background on this one: Dan is the music director at this church and Omar plays on the worship team with him.

I have an OA that I got to be a part of. Omar (one of the drummers at our church and the drummer for Paul Revere and the Raiders for 30 years) had noticed a man he recognized as one of the former drummers for the band White Snake at church last Sunday. Omar went over to him, introduced himself, and then spent some time listening to his story. Besides being pretty drunk, this man was also pretty depressed. Apparently some of his band mates (from one of the bands he is in) ripped him off, taking everything he had, so he had to start all over from scratch. He showed up to church because he didn’t know where else to go.

Omar called me the next day to see if I could find some drumsticks for this guy, to get him started playing again. I told him to have the guy meet me at my office. When I met him later that week, I asked him how things were going. He told me his whole story…and I was able to give him some drumsticks to start playing again. I told him as he was leaving that I would pray for him, and after he left I said a prayer.

Dan

When I was in my teenage years, I used to take a short hike up into the red hills where I grew up.  It was only a short hike, but if you got to the bottom of the mesa, you were able to slip between some rocks and climb up on top of the mesa.  From there, you could see the entire town cradled in the arms of a green valley and watched over by the majestic mountains on the other side.  I used to sit up there and listen to the sound of the wind blowing and appreciate God’s beautiful creation, then, I would feel the peace wash over me as if an invisible river had broken from beneath the red rock and gushed forth like a river.

As I have aged, peace seems more elusive than it was back then.  Now, I have to make an effort to achieve peace.  There is no longer a mesa to hike up to, and the incessant droning of the television keeps my peace at bay far too often.  Even so, once in a while, I find that restful peace flow over me and it fills me up again.

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