Everything I Learned About God, I Learned From My Dad

This is something that I have been thinking about off and on for the past several days. In fact, in my written journal (yes, my delightful fan-base, I have writings that I don’t put on EITHER blog, and no, you can’t see them) an entry almost identical to this one is recorded last Wednesday. In light of this morning’s sermon, I found it only fitting to share these thoughts.

Pretty much since the beginning of time people have been taking their ideas about God from their fathers. This is part sociological, because for a long time a good portion of the world was patriarchal in nature, and partly due to the fact that God Himself spent a lot of time in the Bible describing himself as Father — so it’s not hard to make the connection. It was not long into my training for ministry that I was made painfully aware of the dangers of spending too much time on that particular analogy. You see, not everybody has pleasant memories of their fathers.

I, however, have nothing but the most positive of experiences with my dad. In fact, I am convinced that everyone who has ever met the child of two Italian immigrants whom they named Rocco Perna would say that they have been blessed to have known the man. Yeah. He’s THAT incredible.

Anyway, back to the crux of my writing tonight. My dad has been showing me the nature and character of God long before I knew how to see it. He’s not perfect, but I’m convinced he does a better job of it than most everyone I know. To make sure this doesn’t go into a long and sycophantic ramble about the awesomeness of my father, I precede to give you a list.

–Long before I knew anything about how God set aside His glory to be born the humble son of carpenter, I watched my dad work a second job nights in a convenience store making soda fountain drinks so that Mom could stay home with us.

–And as Christ did set aside glory to spend time with us, he gave up his own life on our behalf. While He was without sin, he died to pay for all of ours. He gave up so much that he could be with us. While I didn’t find out about it until I was in my late teens, my dad had the opportunity to work for both the Cocacola company and M&M/Mars. Like I said, he’s quite amazing. Had he taken either of the positions, he would probably reached high levels and could be earning three or four times what he makes now — and probably would be getting a lot more respect too. But instead, he stayed at the company he’s worked at most of his life. He did this so that my brothers and I would always have a father. Whenever we needed him, he’d be there. He did it for us.

–God is both just and loving. Sometimes this is hard for us to wrap our brains around. We think that either God punishes us for our sins as befits our rebellious nature, or He lets us do what we wish and doesn’t care about what we do because He loves us. These are both, in their own way, concepts that we can get. The fact that He is BOTH boggles our minds. My dad never spanked me, though I deserved it a number of times. He didn’t even ever yell at me all that often. What he did do, however, is break me down by telling me how much I disappointed him with my actions. When my dad would say that I would weep uncontrollably for hours it hurt me so. Every time he did that, however, he would be in my room later. He would explain to me why he said it. He’d explain to me what I should learn from my mistake. He would show me that even though I had done something that made him angry or disappointed, he always loved me.

–The greatest thing I’ve ever learned about God is his grace. See, God has done everything for us, and all He’s ever asked in return is that we believe in Him. That’s it. We are supposed to act how He wants — but if we don’t, He doesn’t take back his promises. He doesn’t say, “Oh, what I meant by ‘by grace you have been saved through faith’, was more along the lines of ‘you’ve been saved unless you piss me off.’” He doesn’t do that. What He does is allow us to be us, and hope that we might turn to Him because we want to. My dad has rarely imposed his will on anybody. Partly because it’s not in his nature, but partly because he hasn’t needed to. Dad has always been one to let people make their own decisions. Sometimes this has blown up in his face, but he always does. My whole life he has let me make a lot of my own decisions — even when I was utterly dependent on him for everything. My decisions were my own.

I could go on, but I’d be at this for a while, and it’s after midnight. In short, my father is awesome. Long before I knew how deeply he was effecting my understanding of God, my dad was showing me who He is. If only more fathers were like that.

A Message From Brother John

If you’ve ever seen my music collection — it will not take you long to realize that Blues Traveler is my favorite band.  Ever since I was first made aware of them when Run Around (arguably one of their most famous songs, to the point that they are almost entirely sick of playing it), I immediately started buying up every album I could get my hands on.  I’m only a couple off now from completing the set. (if anybody’s looking for that perfect present for me:  I’m missing Save His Soul, Bridge,  Truth Be Told, Travelogue, and Cover Yourself)

When I’m opening up at work, I blast my ipod with random tunes.  There isn’t a morning that I don’t hear at least one song and join John Popper in singing the words.  This morning I had God speaking to me through one.

Yup.  You saw that right.  I heard God speak to me through a Blues Traveler song.  The song in question?  “Just Wait” from the CD Four. Four is the album with the songs you know.  “Run Around,” “Hook,” and “The Mountains Win Again” are all on it.  “Just Wait” is pretty much among the closest songs that the boys get to a ballad.  To use music terms, it’s definitely a ‘b-side’ sort of tune.  However, as a person who has been feeling pretty beat down lately, and who has spent several nights reading e-mails, blogs, text messages, as well as talking to a lot of people — the feeling that God isn’t there and life is getting too hard to deal with is a permeating theme.  This song was almost like God reached down to me — in the middle of my most beat-down state of mind — and saying, “I haven’t gone anywhere.  Keep going.  You might not feel it, but I’ll never leave you.

So here are the words for those of you that haven’t heard the song — if you want to hear it, go to itunes or Blues Traveler’s website to hear it for yourself.

Just Wait, on the album Four, words and music by John Popper

If ever you are feeling like you’re tired
And all your uphill struggles leave you headed downhill
If you realize your wildest dreams can hurt you
And your appetite for pain has drinken its fill

I ask of you a very simple question
Did you think for one minute that you are alone
And is your suffering a privilege you share only
Or did you think that everybody else feels completely at home

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

If you think I’ve given up on you you’re crazy
And if you think I don’t love you well then you’re just wrong
In time you just might take to feeling better
Time is the beauty of the road being long

I know that now you feel no consolation
But maybe if I told you and informed you out loud
I say this without fear of hesitation
I can honestly tell you that you make me proud

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come
Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

If anything I might have just said has helped you
If anything I might have just said helped you just carry on
Your rise uphill may no longer seem a struggle
And your appetite for pain may all but be gone

I hope for you and cannot stop at hoping
Until that smile has once again returned to your face
There’s no such thing as a failure who keeps trying
Coasting to the bottom is the only disgrace

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come
Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come
Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

Auto-tuning — the kind without cars

So apparently I’ve been at a loss when it comes to this wonderful world of viral video — Auto tuning.  Basically it’s taking the audio tracks of video clips and tweaking them to put them to music.  I’m sure there’s a better way to describe it than that, but one escapes me.  It IS almost 2 in the morning after all.  Anyway, as I was sifting through news programs club kids would get excited about and Winston Churchill being decidedly more funky than he ever was — I found this one.  They tuned up MLK’s most famous I Have a Dream speech.

The guys who are responsible for this one said that it was among their favorites — mostly because Dr. King’s voice was so naturally lyrical, it lent itself well to being tuned.  Anyway, if you enjoy this, go ahead and check out the rest.  Go over to youtube and search auto tuning.

One of the Bravest Guys I Know

DSC_0386I heard once that people say they are more afraid of public speaking  than they fear death.  While I’ve grown into public speaking — even drawn to it — I remember being a kid that was so shy I’d break down into tears at the drop of a hat every time I was placed into a situation with new people.  For a significant period of my life, I refused to do much of anything in a public forum because I didn’t feel I would ever be talented enough to make it happen.  Even now, there are times I shy away from things because I feel that my abilities, or lack there of, would be an embarrassment.

That’s why I want to tell you about my friend Dave.  Dave has a speech impediment.  It’s hardly a slight one either.  In fact, he thoroughly enjoys regaling people with the story of how a local police officer was convinced he was hammered and had Dave call his mother to assure him his speech patterns were something he’d had since birth — not since his 2nd six pack..  It’s a personal favorite.  One would think that a guy with Dave’s sort of situation would steer clear of public speaking.  Well, if you’re thinking that than you haven’t met him before.

This past Sunday the folks of the Uprising Bible study at Stonecrest Community Church, my current church home and collective of cronies for Christ, did both the services for the holiday weekend.  I was happy to help out by arranging, directing and performing dramatic readings and providing a short application of 1 Corinthians 13, but I have to tell you that anything I did was nothing compared to when Dave hit the stage.  Dave did a lot for this.  He read from the Psalms, he prayed a couple of times, and then he spoke about the Lord’s Supper.  I know it may seem a bit paradoxical that I might use this word to describe a description of communion, but really, it was fitting — Damn, brother BROUGHT IT!

If I were Dave — I’d probably never speak in public.  Even in a situation like a church, where the people involved are supposed to be loving and gracious, I probably wouldn’t.  That’s just me coming to terms with how scared I can get over something that is really not that big a deal.  If I can connect it to a bit of modern storytelling (aka a movie) — If you’ve seen the movie Penelope, there is a scene towards the end where a classroom of small children is asked to identify the moral of Penelope’s story.  Without going through everything involved and giving away the ending, I’ll just tell you what the one little boy said in reply — “It’s not the power of the curse.  It’s the power you give the curse.”  Meaning, the problem is only a problem if you make it one.  Dave is one of the more witty, hilarious, and joy-filled brothers I’ve ever met in my life.  He happens to have a speech impediment.  Unlike so many of us, he will never let that stop him from doing what he wants, loving everyone he meets, and serving God everywhere he goes.

Dave is one of the bravest men I know.  I thought that you should hear about him.  If you know him, be sure to remind him how awesome he is.  I know he’s inspiring me more than he realizes.

Help Portrait Project

I’m home sick today, so what am I doing? Writing and checking out the internet of course. Later, if I’m feeling up to it, I’ll probably play some video games and really round out a sick day old school.

Anyway, so there I was, letting google reader tell me what all my friends and interesting individuals are writing, when on Don Miller’s blog I stumbled upon this thing. I’ve long been proclaiming my man-crush on Donald Miller and everything he does and writes — thus when he tells me, “Hey, this thing is a neat idea that a friend of mine is up to” I usually check it out.

This is a great idea. Whether you’re a hobbyist with a digital camera, a pro with an amazingly gorgeous set-up and a full studio, or a schmuck like me falling somewhere in between — this could be something really beautiful.

Bear Grylls Loves Jesus

Okay, so the title is a bit cheesy, but every time I tried to come up with something else, I kept seeing the horrible, “Real men love Jesus” bumper stickers. Then I put Bear on it. ;)

Anyway, Bear Grylls apparently is a big spokesman for this evangelistic outreach course called Alpha. I found this out because we’re going to have an Alpha course at the church and to advertise it they had a 3 minute video of Bear doing what Bear does best. When I went to Youtube to see if I could find that video, I happened upon this one of Bear talking about his faith. I’m a fan of Bear Grylls. I’ve had many a wonderful conversation with the guys from the high school and college ministries at churches about Bear Grylls. I watched the man drink his own urine from the skin of a poisonous snake he beheaded and ate earlier to survive the desert. Bear Grylls rules.

In a bit of seriousness to finish off the point, if there was anyone out there who could say that life was navigable on your own strength and wits — it’d be Bear. Instead, however, Bear learned that there was more to life than survival — that life in Christ was able to carry him much farther than his special forces training ever could.

I know I thought it was pretty cool.

A random battery of quotes on beauty

That’s right, kids, it’s time for another bout of random quotations on a subject.  Today’s topic — beauty.  It’s ridiculous to think that I have yet to have a “beauty” tag in my little tag cloud off to the side there.  Gentles do not reprehend, and Robin shall restore amends.

There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion. — Francis Bacon

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections and the truth of imagination. What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not. — John Keats

Beauty is the purgation of superfluities. — Michelangelo

Beauty is a form of genius–is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. It is of the great facts in the world like sunlight, or springtime, or the reflection in dark water of that silver shell we call the moon. — Oscar Wylde

What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness. — Leo Tolstoy

Oh how many more there could be — but not for now. Go explore.

A Man Worthy of Honor

I know, I know — two posts in the course of what is turning out to be a very late night, both featuring prominent pictures bearing my mother’s most intriguingly odd maiden name.  What can I say — this is what happens when I go for a walk along a new route.

DSC_0174Russell Hockenbury is a name that you probably haven’t heard of.  If you live around here and hang out with me long enough, you probably STILL might not know who I’m talking about.  Around here, we don’t really call him by that name.  Around here, we just call him Uncle June.  Uncle June is my mother’s uncle.  A man who has spent most of his life buying, selling, breeding, and loving horses, I’ve never met a man who is more caring, hilarious, and damn fun to be around.

One thing that you might not know about my great uncle — he never graduated from high school, and he can’t read very well at all, yet in the well-to-do private school of Gil St. Bernards by my house — there’s a building that bears his name.  It was not very long ago that the school honored my Great Uncle June with this building, Hockenbury Hall, and bestowed on him a jacket and degree that is usually given to students graduating from the school.  We were all so proud of him.  I wish I could have been there for either  of those occasions, because I am so incredibly blessed to be able to call this man family.  The sad thing is, I was unable to go to either.  In fact, much like the events of my previous post, this is the first time I’ve been able to wander over to the school and see the building.  I must have taken a dozen different pictures of this doorway, even though the building is still in its inaugural status and there aren’t even flowers in the flower beds just out of frame here.  I was so happy that somebody had done something to thank Uncle June for all the work he has done for this school.  He loves those kids, and loves the work that he does there on the grounds.

It is because of this that I am enraged when people look at Uncle June and call him stupid because of things that he never learned because, quite frankly, he’s lived a long and happy life never needing to.  The more I’ve come to learn of this man, the more I think that one day I want to grow up to be just like him.  He absolutely adores my Great Aunt Lois — a spitfire and a half that is as incredible as Uncle June.  The two of them have traveled all over the world.  I have seen pictures of him with tribesmen in Africa, on a ski lift in Austria, and riding horses in the deserts of Egypt.

How many of you can say that you’ve experienced that?

He’s ridden horses in competition — and won.  He’s shown horses in competition — and won.  He’s planted gardens and seen them flourish.  Even though he has retired from a lot of what he used to do for a living, he still takes care of the grounds at Gil.  He still has ponies and teaches people to ride as far as I know.  Next weekend we’ll have him come by the house for the family’s annual super-party with a couple of his finest and a wagon to give a lot of kids and their families the time of their lives clomping down Mosle Road.

uncle juneIn a nation, and even a world, that seems to place celebrities and ne’er do wells to heroic stature, I wanted to put this up to remind all of us what sort of a person should be honored like this.  At my job I’m looked down on a lot.  It is the basic understanding of a lot of people in this area that your education, your earnings, and your position makes you a better person.  Uncle June holds no degree but an honorary one, yet he has lived a life that is more full than mine will probably ever be.  I work with younger folks a lot, and I have actually used stories about my Great Uncle June to both entertain and educate future generations on what it means to be a man of character.  It’s why I share just part of his story with you now.

A good man, a decent man, a humble man, and a guy anybody’d be proud to know.  Russell “June” Hockenbury is one of the most amazing guys I know.

Memorial

DSC_0164

While she would have disagreed with me whole-heartedly, my grandmother’s (my mom’s mom)  name is one of the most unique, wonderful names I’ve ever heard.  In case you haven’t guessed it already, the picture is of the gravestone where she was buried 13 years ago.  I was 16.  I wasn’t at the funeral.  This wasn’t because of terrible circumstances.  I just didn’t go because we didn’t really make a big deal out of it.

Of all the people whose funerals I’ve been to — only one of them was family.  It was my grandmother (my dad’s mom).  It was only a couple years ago and I was the one performing it.  Even this, however, was not a big deal.  Nan got cremated as far as I know, and we just had a cookout in the back yard of the house.  I said some nice things, we cried, we kept eating, and then we cleaned up.  It wasn’t a big deal.

My grandmother, Auta Delight Hockenbury, died in 1996.  This graveyard is literally less than a mile from my house.  It took me maybe ten minutes to walk there yesterday.  It was literally the first time I’d ever been there.  Some would consider me heartless for such a thing, but I caution you — don’t go there.  I loved my grandmother very VERY much.  There was not one summer where we didn’t drive over to my grandparents’ house to swim, have fun, and hang out with them.  The reason I haven’t gone to the grave is because Grandma isn’t there.  She never was.

I’d love to tell you I know where my grandmother is, but I can’t with certainty.  See, she died before I ever thought much about anything about God, so we didn’t talk about him — ever.  Thus, as a man who believes that faith in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ as your savior is the only way anyone gets into heaven — all I can do is say that I hope when I get there I meet her there.  No matter what happened, though, Grandma shuffled off this mortal coil and what was put in the ground was only part of her, and after this many years — much of that part of her has gone to fed the grass and worms.  So why would I want to visit that?

Not much for spiritualization?  Not keen on my own uncertainty of my dear family member’s eternal state?  Here’s why I’m bothering to write this — because I spent the rest of this walk thinking through the fact that my grandmother has been dead 13 years.  I don’t treasure a rock, nor a spot in the dirt.  I treasure everything that was so unique about my grandmother, from her unique name to all the minute details.

I remember eating liverwurst and mayonaise sandwiches on rye bread.

I remember getting birthday and Christmas presents wrapped in comic strips from the Sunday paper.

I remember how she had an entire cabinet filled with Styrofoam meat trays, empty coolwhip and butter tubs, and anything else she could scrounge for some unknown future usage.

I remember prepping peapods and throwing them into a wooden bowl bigger than I was.

But that isn’t all I remember.

I remember when we carted a bed downstairs for her because she was too weak to climb the stairs.

I remember the wig she wore when the treatments made all of hers fall out.

I remember sitting with her and watching The Price is Right because she couldn’t do much else.

I remember when Dad told me that she died.

I don’t miss a rock.  I don’t miss dirt.  There are times when I miss my grandma, but I will never forget her.

I was once asked why I stay away from powerpoint, video, or anything like that when I preach.  It’s not that I’m opposed to them, but I just think that preaching should be like good story telling.  There are times when such things are helpful, but there are also times when they get in the way of what should be the most important element — the Word of God.

I saw this clip on Out of Ur today.  I like John Piper a lot.  He discusses his opinion of videos and other such media in the actual sermons themselves.  It’s always nice when respected, well known folks agree with your opinions — especially when John Piper endourses the arts in churches — just not “crammed into Sunday morning”.