Occasionally people will observe our three wonderful sons and ask something like this. “What did you do to parent such great kids?” My response is simple. “I married Joni. The rest is a blur.” There is a little too much truth in that answer. She was and is remarkable. But we did partner in this grand adventure called parenting. Along the way I learned some things mostly by error and stumbling trial. Over the next day or two I will share what I have figured out with the disclaimer that I do not claim to be an expert. It is with humility and grateful appreciation to God that He has given me the gift of this family. One thing I have learned in my journey is that every dad leaves a legacy. The only question is whether that legacy will be good, bad, or indifferent. Being a father is tough because we generally learn how to parent while on the job. Ken Druck
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Regular readers of the humble ramblings know that I am a recovering legalist. I spent about three decades trying to find the right set of performance tools to become righteous. Guess how that worked out? I have such mixed feelings about my first church. I am grateful for the Gospel message they preached that led me to trust Jesus as my Savior. I am sad that they lived a joyless life of self-effort, guilt and self condemnation. In this particular theological flavor you could achieve a second stage of sanctification where you would not sin anymore. This was particularly tough for a young cynical teenager who saw “sanctified” people doing things that smelled and looked suspiciously like sin. I watched with frustration and sometimes amazement at the semantic hoops they jumped through to remain sinless.   They simply developed new language and rules for themselves. Here is a partial listing that I observed. When I gossiped it was sin….When they gossiped it was “sharing.” When I stood up
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(Here is this week’s iPod Devotional. A new one is posted every Monday at theFish.com) I am a huge fan of the group Casting Crowns. So it is no surprise that a song from the Atlanta based group would come up in this series. The lyrics from the song “If We Are The Body” are convicting. It’s crowded in worship todayAs she slips inTrying to fade into the facesThe girls’ teasing laughter is carrying farther than they knowFarther than they know But if we are the BodyWhy aren’t His arms reachingWhy aren’t His hands healingWhy aren’t His words teaching And if we are the BodyWhy aren’t His feet goingWhy is His love not showing them there is a wayThere is a way We are the Body of Christ. So why aren’t His arms reaching? Why aren’t His hands healing? I am afraid the answer is a hard truth. We don’t care enough for the lost. We don’t ache for the hurting.
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There is a little saying that I have heard all of my life. If you can’t say something nice about them…then don’t say anything. Had I practiced that very wise advice I would have had many more “quiet times” in my life. I have not always practiced that simple principle even though I have read and nodded solemnly in agreement as I read James and Paul warn of the dangers of gossip and an uncontrolled tongue.  Whether you call it venting or sharing it is always perilously close to gossiping. That is one of those “fine line” challenges. Like Dave Barry’s quote that “there’s a fine line between ‘hobby’ and ‘mental illness’.” I would submit that there is a fine line between venting/sharing and gossip. Gossip is one of the favorite tools that Satan has in his toolbox. Brooklyn Tabernacle takes gossip very seriously. New members hear this charge as they become members of the church.  “And now, I charge you, as pastor
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A recent trip to New York included the usual trips to the Bronx and the new Yankee Stadium. Across the street the once proud “House that Ruth Built” was being slowly demolished. About one-third of the stadium was still upright. It was a sad sight. I recalled the recent and very different demise of Texas Stadium in Irving, Texas. In about a minute that once grand structure came crashing down in a spectacular implosion. The demise of something important in your life is sad whether it comes by agonizing demolition or dramatic implosion. I thought of fellow sojourners of faith whose once solid foundation of belief has been destroyed. For some it seemed like their spiritual demise came out of nowhere. A spiritual implosion if you will. But the truth is that there is rarely a quick implosion of faith. It almost always occurs slowly over time. Bringing down Texas Stadium took months of targeting the foundation and key structural supports. After thousands of hours
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Regular readers of these humble ramblings (all tens of you) know what an over the top dog lover I am. So this little nugget in the cybermailbox from my friend Clint caught my attention. A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was preparing to leave the examination room and said, “Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side.” Very quietly, the doctor said, “I don’t know.” “You don’t know? You, a Christian man, do not know what is on the other side?” The doctor was holding the handle of the door; on the other side of which came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness. Turning to the patient, the doctor said, “Did you notice my dog? He’s never been in this room before. He didn’t know what was inside. He knew
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(This is an annual revisit of one of the great stories in sports. Something to take your mind off of tax day) April 15th is not my favorite day of the year. Traditional tax day is never fun for a guy who is organizationally challenged. My idea of being prepared is having everything in one box. But I was heartened to find that April 15th is a great day for baseball fans.  Jackie Robinson made his major league debut at first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers on that date in 1947. It was a historic and significant day for baseball but maybe more so for our country. You can argue that the American civil rights movement was ignited when Robinson came to bat in Dodger Blue. The journey for Robinson was difficult at best and nearly impossible at worst.  Many Dodgers players, mostly Southerners led by Dixie Walker, threatened to walk if forced to play with a black player. That
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