About The Photo

I suppose I am taking more notice of honeybees these days. The news stories of their demise and my youngest son's interest in them as a hobby has put them solidly on my radar. So you can imagine my intrigue in watching this little fellow doing his best to get a drink of water from my water bottle in the midst of the Great Smoky Mountains.

My fellow trekkers and I had just arrived at our campsite after descending from one of the high points in the park. Ten-plus miles of walking downhill will take its toll on one's knees and toes. So a soak in the nearby creek and a welcome sit down gave us a few moments to take in the beauty of our surroundings.

Among those beautiful things that caught my eye were these honeybees. It was wonderful to see them busy in and around our campsite. I found myself imagining a black bear finding the hive and enjoying a snack. I wondered where these little guys (and their queenly gal) made their home. Perhaps some ancient hollow tree, or maybe a sheltered cliff-side crack? I would not know on this trip. I was just glad these guys were doing their job. The wildflowers on display were a marvelous testament to their labors.

Here are a couple of other memorable photos from that trip. I hope you enjoy!

Lying Down In Green Pastures

This Shepherd will be on vacation with the family this week. Don't look for updates here or anywhere else. I'm taking a break from all things electronic...well, I will have my cell phone in case of emergency but there will be no facebook or twitter updates. I'm probably not responding to SMS messages. I might listen to my voicemail - might not.

Check back next week. I'll tell you about life disconnected. What I'll really be telling you about is life re-connected. Re-connected with the relationships that really matter in this life. Until then, I am outta' here!

A Few Photos of Fidel's Finished Boats

Sojourner asked if I had any pictures of Fidel's finished product and these are the best I can do. I also included a couple of photos showing the pescadores at work. Hope you enjoy!

About the Photo

On a beautiful July day we stopped in Irapa, Venezuela to visit with a friend I had made the previous year. Fidel the boat builder is a fourth generation boat builder and is a remarkable man. The boat you see pictured here is nearing the end of its production which, from start to finish, takes about three weeks. Fidel builds these 36 foot vessels from materials gathered from local forests and shaped into useful form on sight at his boat building hut. This is made all the more incredible by the simple fact that almost all of the work is done with simple hand tools; an axe, a hand saw, a hand planer, hammer, and generations of know how combined to efficiently build these works of beauty.

Fidel supplies the local fishing fleet with the boats they need to keep the fish coming in and there always seems to be a fisherman showing off his latest and greatest catch to Fidel. On the nearby beach a line of boats stand ready to go. All are brightly painted and proudly cared for. I was invited by one of the pescadores (fishermen) to go out with him. Alas, my schedule would not allow such an outing this time. Perhaps another day.

Each time I have been near Irapa, I have insisted upon stopping by to speak to Fidel. It is my hope and prayer that he will one day come to know the Savior. I have spoken with Fidel about Jesus and have left copies of the New Testament for him and for his employees. I keep praying that the simple seeds of the gospel planted in his life will grow and produce a harvest of righteousness for God's kingdom. Would you take a moment today and pray for Fidel? And if you happen to be near Irapa, be sure to stop by and visit. You'll be glad you did.

A Walk With My Son

This Shepherd had the marvelous joy of taking a long walk with his eldest son last week. Number one son has been backpacking with me since he was five years old and our experiences have been memorable on every occasion. Three days and thirty one miles of unforgettable beauty and uninterrupted time forged memories that will last.

I was poignantly aware this was the last time he and I would take a walk like this. You see, he is graduating from high school this year. Knowing I would soon be sharing him with the rest of the world made every step bitter-sweet. I know he's ready for the adventure, I'm just not ready to send him off on his own yet.

The entire journey took on the air of an extended metaphor in our relationship: I used to carry his stuff for him, after all he was too small to carry it all, this trip he was carrying some of the things I usually carry, lightening my load because I am "getting old." I used to set the pace and encourage him to keep on walking, now I tell him to just go ahead I'll catch up at the next trail junction. I used to stop and point out things of interest to him, now I find myself interested in the things that interest him. The unbridled energy of his youth is now clearly focused and the realization of his strength, physical, emotional, and spiritual, humbles me. He will certainly surpass me

My son has become a man.

I weep tears of pride and sadness and joy and wonder even as I write those simple words. This should be no great surprise; he's been on this journey for 18 years now. I suppose I am simply awed by the realization.

When he walks it is as if the path is all that exists and the entire purpose of being in that moment is taking the next step. He is an intense hiker. I am wondering wanderer. Every sight and sound has the potential to stop me. I sometimes wonder if he, in his youthful strength, is ever awed.

A defining moment came unexpectedly (don't most defining moments?) on the second day. After a long and difficult climb to the ridge top and lunch stop in the sunshine, we came to a section of trail which narrowly followed the spine of the ridge. As I set foot on that narrow way I noticed my son stopped in the trail ahead of me. Unusual for him. I followed his eyes into North Carolina and realized why he had paused. His intensity was stopped in its tracks by beauty. His father was stopped in his tracks by love for his son and thanks to our Father for this moment shared. We exchanged no words. They would have only spoiled the view.

It was a walk with my son. What began as a father and his child taking a walk became a father taking a walk with his son who is a man.

About the Photo

This bell tower belongs to the Cades Cove Primitive Baptist Church now preserved in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Though now nothing more than a museum it stands as a continuing testimony to the faith of the people who settled this beautiful valley in the southern Appalachian mountains. In fact, driving the 11 mile Cades Cove loop is something of an annual pilgrimage for my family and a stop at this church is a must on our trip. My Beloved is drawn to the cemetery as it chronicles the difficult and tragic lives of those who braved the wilderness to carve out a life. I am magnetically drawn to the edifice that once housed a thriving congregation.

As I sit in one of the rough pews in this little structure I am awe struck by a people compelled to invest energy in building such a place when it took such an immense effort to simply survive. Why would they do such a thing? Why not simply worship in homes or not at all?

Is it possible that their connection to the land instructed them about a deeper dependence?

Is it possible that this desperate group of pioneers was right in exerting unusual extravagance in a decidedly utilitarian existence to build a bell tower, not to outshine the Methodist's across the holler but to remind them to look up every now and then? Something tells me that this is near the mark. In lives marked by the steady rhythms of the seasons and the regular rhythm of work-6-days-and-rest-1 this tower served to guide them through each change and each fresh tragedy with the steady sureness of God.

I sit in that now empty church and strain to hear the hymns of praise being sung and the words of truth being proclaimed. Alas, there is only silence now. But in the stillness the voice of God whispers, "I AM." That marvelous bell tower continues to point heavenward, drawing the eyes of road weary tourists to look above the frustrations of traffic, noisy kids, flat tires, and the need to use the bathroom to consider the God who sustained these so long ago. Doubtless, some few stop long enough to hear.

About the Photo - Agua Volcano, Antigua Guatemala

This cloud shrouded magnificence can be seen from just about anywhere in central Guatemala. It and its sisters, Fuego and Acatenango, dominate the skyline everywhere. Fuego and Acatenango are active volcanoes with ash plumes regularly rising from their peaks and lava visible in the darkness of night. Being in the proximity of volcanoes, especially active ones, is a little - ok, a lot - unsettling! Thankfully they all behaved during our brief visit. This particular photo of Agua was taken from the central market place on the day we visited beautiful Antigua.

The scripture I had posted with this photo is one that is often associated with mountains but is usually terribly misinterpreted. I have Eugene Peterson to thank for peeling back the crust of time and helping me to understand this from the perspective of the one who wrote it.

Psalm 121:1-2 reads "I lift up my eyes to the hills-where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth."

Most often this verse is associated with just this sort of photo, an imposing and enduring mountain. Our culture equates mountains with strength, majesty, and endurance and therefore the natural understanding for us is that in looking to the mountains we see an image of the strong, majestic and enduring God who helps us. That is a nice image but it is dead wrong when it comes to what is being declared in this marvelous Psalm.

Psalm 121 is one of the Psalms of Ascent that would be sung by pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem to worship. Undoubtedly one of the sights along the way were the many mountains that surround Jerusalem. Though those mountains and hills may have possessed an intrinsic beauty that is not what would have caught the eye and attention of the pilgrim on their way to worship the one true God. The pilgrim would have seen smoke rising from those mountaintops in worship of many other gods. It is as if this song is asking "Which god is going to help me?"

I can see that pilgrim on their way to worship the one true God looking around at all these other gods and asking, "Is Baal going to help me?" "How about Ashtoreth?" "Molech?" "Chemosh?" "Dagon?" And the answer was "No. No. No. And no." The only help, the only reliable help, the only sure help would come from the LORD.

An interesting, and often overlooked, practice of English translations is the use of the word LORD in all capitals to represent the personal, revealed name of God. Anytime you see this used in scripture the point is being made that its not just any god that is being discussed but this particular God. This specifically named God. This God with a known and revealed character. It is this particular God that the song was, and is, referring to as sojourners make their way to worship.

This holds tremendous truth for us today as we face a world fraught with uncertainty and danger. Just where will our help come from?

Will it be from the recently de-thoned "masters of the universe" who ruled Wall Street?
I don't think so.

Will it be from Barack Obama's promises of hope?
I don't think so.

Will it be from T. Boone Pickens or Sarah Palin with their promises of energy independence?
I don't think so.

Will it be from the bail-out brokers on Capital Hill?
I don't think so.

This list could go on and on and the answer would be the same. There is only one source of genuine hope. Perhaps it's time we lifted our eyes a little higher to see the one that is more powerful, more enduring, more majestic and more reliable than the mountains.

"I lift my eyes to the hills - from where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth."

Here's to looking up!

A Page From My Journal

Dateline - July 23, 2008 - In the air somewhere over Guatemala.

It is good to be on the way home. This work is joyful but difficult. I miss my wife. I always wonder what challenge she has had to face in my absence. It always seems that she bears the brunt of these trips.

I am drained more than I remember from previous trips. I don't know if that is an effect of a short memory or a maturing view of the nature of this work. It is not about "saving the world" (although that stands as the ultimate goal) it is about doing the small thing God has called you to do and to do it well. I believe we have accomplished this.

There are moments this week I would not trade for anything; moments that will stand vividly in my memory. Likewise, there are experiences I would gladly do without, but I recognize them as part of the cost of ministry. We do not go because it is easy or rewarding. We do not go because of the great memories that are built. We do not go to bring back beautiful trinkets. We go because we are commanded to go. We go because it is an act of obedience, and in obedience, in cooperating with God's plans, we discover that God is able to do far more than we are able.

Lives were changed in Guatemala. There are new believers. There are encouraged churches. There are children with the memory of "Gringos"visiting their community to tell them of God's love. But not only were Guatemalan lives changed, our lives were changed. My daughter will always remember 3 little girls that adored her from the first moment they laid eyes on her. My son will look back on this time where God confirmed direction for his life. I am reminded of the darkness of so many without Christ.

So what is next? As always, live today for Christ and follow Him where He leads. It may be to the "uttermost parts" or it may be across the street. Today.

About the Picture - Pastor Sheep's got a little Cap'n in him!

After a powerful week of ministry with a sister church in Guatemala our group had the opportunity to do a little sight seeing. And did we ever see the sights! The picture is of my good friend who became known as "Pastor Sheep" all because our Guatemalan brethren could not say "Chip". Yes, we all laughed long and hard over this one in his life! Pastor Sheep is looking out over the incomparable Lake Atitlan in central Guatemala as a storm is rolling across its waters.

We spent the day in Panajachel doing the typical tourist thing of buying all kinds of unique treasures to carry back to the United States with us. It is an incredible feast for the eyes, ears, and nose. The visual impact of the hand made wares is nearly overwhelming. Guatemala is noted for its textile production and in Panajachel many hand woven items are on brilliant display. They believe in using color and it is beautiful. I have a photo of an alley where many of these items were for sale and the color is almost overwhelming!

The eyes are busy looking even as the ears are busy listening. Everyone is hawking their wares for you. Enough tourists over enough years have visited Panajachel that the locals know enough English to bombard you with their sales pitch. Forget just walking and looking! "Twenty dollars! Twenty dollars! No. O.k., for you fifteen dollars. I make you a special deal." If you are not accustomed to bargaining you are in for a crash course! If you accept their first price, well, let's just say you are not getting your money's worth! Not only are you paying far more than the item is worth but you are also missing out on the joy of interacting with these craftsmen about the real value of their wares!

Lake Atitlan is considered among the most beautiful lakes in the world. It is surrounded by three volcanoes (one of which you see in the photo) and it's waters are a stunning blue/grey. We did not avail ourselves of the opportunity to go out on the lake and visit the communities surrounding it (I think I will definitely do this on my next visit) but the brief visit we paid there is forever sealed in my thoughts as one of the outstanding days of my life.

As for the photo, it was as we were getting ready to climb aboard our van (driven by the incomparable JUAN PABLO!). Pastor Sheep stepped to the wall to take in one last look at this marvelous creation of God and I happened to be in the right place at the right time to capture the moment. When I look at the photo it's almost as if I'm looking through Chip's eyes on one of the most remarkable places I've ever visited.