Ho, Ho, Huh?

 Our normal Santa backed out of his planned appearance this year (He must be a union man after all), leaving us with a need to find a new Santa Clause in a hurry.  We eventually decided to let the church choose between our two "full-figured" staff - Michael and Sterling.  We put it to a vote and Sterling won hands-down.  I think the novelty of a black Santa was just too good to pass up.  Sterling was a good sport through it all, and I noticed him quietly practicing his "ho, ho ho's" when he thought nobody was looking.  It's really too bad he couldn't wear his red "gangsta" Christmas hat;  somehow, with Sterling that would have been the perfect touch.  After the service the kids started lining up to talk to Santa, and I can't help but wonder if any of them thought it strange to see that black face peeking out between the fake hair and beard.  I think Sterling can relax, as he now has job security as the official character actor for The Journey Church. 

 We were hit with our first humdinger of a winter storm last week - we got somewhere between 18-24 inches in about 18 hours.  I went out around 1a.m. the first night to start plowing, because the deeper the snow gets, the harder it is to push. There was already 14 inches on the ground when I started plowing the driveway at the Journey Ranch, and I narrowly escaped getting seriously stuck when I inadvertently backed into the creek that runs along the front of the ranch property.  I had chains on the rear tires, so I put it into low 4WD and hit the gas . . .  and the truck jumped back up onto the road.  Whew!  I bought a set of chains a couple of weeks ago after I slid into and demolished a friend's front stairs, and the guy at O'Reilly Auto Parts assured me that these were the best chains for the money.  However, after plowing only two properties I heard a thumping noise coming from my rear tires, and upon investigation discovered that some of the chain links had broken and the loose ends of chain were hitting the inside of the wheel well.  Best chains for the money, eh?  I made a stop at the hardware store and bought a handfull of "Quick links" to re-attach the chain lengths.  My ingenius solution worked for maybe 30 minutes, and then the chains broke somewhere else.  By mid-day I gave up and went back to O'Reilly's for a refund, and I  bought the heavy-duty kind that take twice as long to put on, but will hopefully stay in one piece.

Our Driveway after the big snow

With what I'm spending on extra gas, chains and minor repairs on the truck, I may just be breaking even.  The Jury's still out as to whether this is a money-making endeavor, or a money pit.

I heard a great story two weeks ago at church.  My friend Leslie (who's stairs I demolished) told me that one of her neighbors came over to see her because she'd noticed me repairing the stairs, and she needs someone to help her with some projects.  As they talked, Leslie found out that this woman has not found a church up here where she feels comfortable, and she invited her to the Christmas Eve service (and she came).  "Coincidences" like this one bring home the truth from the Bible that says: "All things work together for good, to those who love God and who are called according to His purposes."

Freezer Burn

Journey Church White Militia

Two nights ago I took seven guys from our Saturday morning group to spend the night in a secluded (and very rustic) cabin located in the middle of 4000 acres of land about 30 minutes from Conifer.  One of the drawing cards I used to convince grown men to spend the night in a freezing cold cabin was that we could do some coyote hunting while we were there.  As you can see from the image, they came loaded for bear.  After I took the picture I told them that we looked like a bunch of guys from some white militia outfit in North Dakota.  We didn't kill any coyotes (PETA fans can now relax), so instead we spent two hours shooting every conceivable weapon known to man.  It was loud, it was raucous, it was MANLY!  Add to that the fact that we enjoyed a BIG pot of chili the night before, and I could use the same adjectives to describe the atmosphere in the cabin sometime around 3 a.m.  In the end, the wood stove kept the cabin temperature tolerable and some of us actually got some sleep (present company excluded).  The next morning we made what can only be described as an awesome, artery-clogging breakfast: eggs, sausages by the pound, fried potatoes and grits.  We all stood around the campfire the night before, smoking pipes and cigars and telling stories about the most painful or frightening experiences we'd ever had ("You call THAT a scar?  Take a look at this baby...")  By around 10 pm the conversation moved to a deeper, more personal level as we talked about how we hear from God and shared some of our most significant "God Moments".

This is why I love to get a group of men away on their own where there's no cell phone coverage and no distractions, and we can finally start to be authentic with one another.  It was a truly great outing.

     We're all gearing up for our big Christmas Eve service at the high school, and we're hoping to have up to 1000 in attendance.  I am truly amazed by the growth-rate of this church, and even more so by the fact that most of the newcomers are brand new to church and not transplants from another congregation.  We'll always have a percentage of people who slide horizontally between our church and other local churches, based on theological or personal differences they may have with us or their previous church.  We don't encourage church-hopping, but it's a fact of life.  What seems incredible to all of us on staff here is how many people have started to attend from advertisements they've seen on Facebook, or from a poster, or a personal invitation.  This is what "The Church" is all about: reaching people far from God, and encouraging them to become fully devoted followers of Christ.

Blood Trail

Monday is our day off each week, and Daphne and I will often take advantage of the free time to go on long walks in the open space park below our house.  This is when we do most of our talking and praying together.  Last Monday we loaded Dixie in the blazer and headed down to the park for a hike.  It's always more of a challenge when the trail is covered with snow - kind of like walking on the beach when every step slips just a little bit in the sand.  The accumulation of a little more effort with each step is actually pretty exhausting over the 2-3 miles, and we find the need to stop more often to rest even if the snow is packed down.  At one point we stopped to catch our breath and Daphne noticed spots of blood that crossed the path heading down the hill.  Ever one for an adventure, I returned later in the afternoon to follow the blood trail to see if I might find a deer carcass at the end - and possibly a free set of antlers.  It's redneck, I know - but I can't help myself.


     I couldn't tell exactly what kind of animal had made the tracks as they were a little indistinct, but it was clear that it had lost a lot of blood in the headlong dash down the hill -- most likely fleeing from a predator.  It wasn't as easy as it might sound to follow the trail because the tracks would criss-cross each other at times, and the blood spots would be obvious for a few yards and then suddenly disappear.  I found myself back-tracking numerous times to find the last spot where I was sure I could see the trail, then try to discern which way the tracks went from there.  When I couldn't tell which way to go I would set out in what I thought was the most logical direction in hopes that I would pick up the blood trail again (which usually happened).  Over logs, through deep snow, around trees and bushes,  and back-tracking constantly I finally came to a barbed-wire fence.  Some tracks ran along the fence, others went under and some seemed to go over the top to continue on the other side.  I walked the fence for quite a ways looking for an easy place to climb over or through, and finally managed to squeeze between two wires - catching the back of my coat on the barbs in the process.  Ever notice how hard it is to detach yourself from a barbed-wire fence when you can't see exactly where you're caught?  You reach behind you and get one spot unhooked, only to catch on another barb in the process.  I finally got through and found the trail once again.  I followed it for maybe 20 yards and suddenly came upon a bright patch of blood and fur and the remains of . . . a rabbit.  A rabbit?  That's what I've been struggling through the snow all this way to find?  Bummer.  What a waste of time.


     Later that day I was thinking and praying about a particular counseling situation we're involved in where the husband is struggling to hear God's voice for himself, and it suddenly dawned on me that following God's leading is not unlike my experience following the blood trail.  At times God's voice is unmistakably clear and we know exactly which way to go, like when the bright red blood is impossible to miss in the white snow.  If every trail were this clear hunting would be a cinch, but every hunter knows how easy it is to lose the trail, and you can spend hours wandering in circles trying to figure out which direction the deer or elk went.  So what I do when I can't hear God's voice anymore, or I'm not sure where He's leading? When I'm unsure how God is leading I find myself going back in my mind to the last time I clearly heard His voice.  There, at least, I am certain of what I know to be true.  This is particularly helpful when I run up against obstacles (barbed wire fences), or when the trail is not very clear.  Then I can seek the Lord again and ask Him to show me which way the trail leads. . . and He always shows me the way.


Amazing Statistic


I just heard from Michael this morning that The Journey Community Church is now considered by Lifeway Research Group to be the second fastest-growing church under 1000 in the U.S. !  The most amazing thing about this statistic is that this growth is happening in a little mountain community like Conifer.  How would've thunk it?  To God be all the glory.

One Big-A_ _ Horse Stick

We had more snow last night, and the temperature this morning is only 1º - close to a record low for this date.  With last night's storm we've now had more snow than all of last winter combined, and we're not even to mid-December.

 Yesterday was the annual Conifer Christmas Parade, and once again our church built a float and participated in the event.  You had to be a real mountain person to join in the fun, because it was only 15º and snowing the whole time.  Near the end of the parade one of our brave church members said to me, "I think my hands would be freezing. . . if I could feel them!"  But it was all worthwhile, and we ended up winning first prize for the best float for the second straight year - go Journey Church!  As we passed by the judges table the announcer said, "Wow, looks like the whole Journey Church came out for the parade today!"  Actually, we had about 70-100 brave souls who walked the route with us, but that's out of some 500 who attend every Sunday.  But I get his point.  We handed out hundreds of flyers for our Christmas Eve service, and I could swear that we had 20 or 30 visitors at church yesterday.  The theme for the parade was "Western", so we decided to build a giant stick horse, with the head being the
Denver Broncos logo.  The pole was around 30 feet long and was propped up on two tree trunks.  Someone from church sewed a giant Santa hat for the big horse head that added the final touch.  Then we cut and painted 100 smaller sticks and attached miniature Broncos heads for each church member to carry.  We ended up looking like a herd of Broncos fans - which of course we are .  The sign on the side of the float said, "Journey Church: 101 Horse Power".  Of course, there was nothing even remotely religious about our float, which was intentional.  We weren't out to look religious - we just wanted to have fun and win the prize!  It was kind of like a giant Broncos Trojan Horse: we don't want people to see us coming.  We want to win them over with love and a sense of community before they even realize that they're part of a local church.


Even though it was bitterly cold we all had a great time, made some new friends and showed Conifer that we can still build a Kick-Ass float!

Plowing is hazardous duty

 We had about a foot of snow yesterday, and there's more on the way tomorrow.  This is good news for firemen and for those who make their living plowing the snow.  However, I learned yesterday just how dangerous snow plowing can be.  There's probably a good meteorological reason why most snowstorms begin at night, but what it means for those who plow commercially is getting up long before dawn to stay ahead of the storm - ie, the deeper the snow, the more difficult it is to plow.  Most clients want their driveways/parking lots plowed at a certain minimum depth - say two inches.  If the storm drops a foot, then it would not be unusual to plow each property two or even three times.  If you wait until the storm is over, then plowing becomes almost impossible due to the weight of the snow and the problem of where to put it all.  All this to say that you end up plowing the first time in the dark, which is hazardous duty by itself.  Add to this the problem of ice forming on the ground where you plowed a few hours earlier, and you've got a real circus act.  There are several commercial properties that I plow as a subcontractor for a friend of mine, plus all the properties I plow for free as a service to our church or to personal friends.  One of the latter has a driveway that is at least 200 yards long, and pitched at an angle of at least 10-12 degrees.  Add to this that the driveway is made of concrete, and you've got big problems.  During the last storm I slid into and over his log retaining wall, and spent the next hour and a half trying to dislodge a huge boulder that stuck under my truck.  So this time I was much wiser and more careful (note the sarcasm), but on my last trip down the driveway my truck started a free, uncontrolled slide; the only place I could steer was either over the edge and down a steep incline, or back into his retaining wall. I chose the wall.  With a huge BANG my blade hit the retaining wall, and the impact was enough to stop the truck.  With my heart racing I (very slowly) made my way down to the bottom of the driveway, but then I had to slip and slide my way back up by foot to do a quick repair on the wooden wall. 

Well, I learned my lesson about slippery driveways (NOT).  Later in the day after most of the storm had dissipated I went to plow for some friends who live not far from us.  Their house and garage are at the bottom of an even steeper, short driveway (meaning: no room for error).  You can tell by now where this is going.  Plowing their driveway presents several significant problems - namely where to put all the snow, and how to maneuver a large truck in a small space.  Turning around requires driving up the driveway and on to the road above - but after one pass with the blade the driveway becomes a vertical ice-rink.  On my second trip up I lost traction at the top, and with a sick, helpless feeling started sliding backwards down the hill towards the house.  It's amazing how many thoughts go through your mind in 2 seconds.  No amount of power or four-wheel drive could prevent the inevitable, and with a sickening crash my truck careened into the stairway leading up to the deck - and smashed it to smithereens.  I haven't cried in a long time, but at that moment that's exactly what I felt like doing.  I got out of the truck, and promptly slipped and fell - adding insult to injury.  I made two phone calls: one to Michael to ask for some help to put the stairway back together again, and the second to my friend Steve to give him the bad news ("Hi Steve - ummm, I ran into a little problem while I was plowing your driveway").  The truck sustained significant damage to the rear bumper and tailgate, but that was the least of my problems as I surveyed the destruction I'd just caused.  Two hours and quite a bit of money later, three friends from church and I had rebuilt enough of the stairway to allow access to the house.  I am very grateful for their willingness to brave the 15 degree weather and frozen fingers and toes to come to my rescue.  Had I been on my own I would have worked until late into the night to get it done.Today the weather will improve and I'll have my work cut out for me to finish repairing the damage.  I suppose there are several lessons to be learned from this experience - humility comes to mind pretty quickly, followed by the importance of carefully evaluating the risks before starting a difficult plowing job. I guess I'll be making a call to my insurance agent today.