The Church, My Family, My Community

I never thought I would be so blessed. These are my friends, people I love being around, talking to, and hearing from. They are vulnerable, adaptable, honest, and funny. I couldn't ask for a better place to pastor. And I can't wait to see how our future together progresses.

Here's a pic of our Sunday School class. They're awesome.

Giving

I asked the Sunday School class at New Wash to ask come up with some questions they'd like answered for the next four weeks. We're taking a break from our book study and spending some time letting their curiosities drive the discussion.

This week, we treated the subject of giving, particularly in light of tight finances.

I was immensely encouraged by the question. No one asks that question who isn't actually trying to live out the Christian faith. The heart behind the question is one that genuinely wants to follow the Lord, and really needs help figuring out how to do it.

Anyway, I'm coming up with some practical ways to help with that question. We covered 2 Cor 9 and the concept of tithe in the Scriptures. But I'm open so suggestions for how you plan your giving for each semester, year, week. I'm looking for practical plans, here, not necessarily a biblical theology on giving.

Children At Play

"Take me away from here," shouted Lucille to her deep red-coloured steed. Lucille's imagination successfully transformed a rather skinny 7 yr old, next door neighbor, Wendell Thacker into a giant Clydesdale.
"I'm goin'" he retorts in the truest of horse-sounding voices, but with a hint of chagrin. While it was a complex turn of creativity to take the vision of Wendell and mold it into a stallion, slightly more difficult was Wendell's job of forging a princess--flowing blond hair, white, sparkling dress, and most importantly, comfortably light--from little Lucille Veronica Jane Hammersmith--pudgy, wiry black hair, and demanding. Indeed, it was the case that Wendell's fantasy of his noble courage in the face of certain death and danger was interrupted every once and awhile by a swift shot to the ribs from the hurried princess's heels. Or when they, atop a fiery mountain, surrounded by evil trolls, depended now upon his skill and speed to jump to safety, she applied a not-so-gentle switch to his behind--enough to rouse Wendell from his fairy tale world. Of course, Lucille found it only appropriate. After all, he was a horse, she a fair maiden. But it was in those moments that Wendell was brought back to reality. The switch hurt. The heels hurt. Her heaviness was uncomfortable.
While we think those moments would be enough to undo Wendell from this world of imagination, and while we believe that surely this boy will take no more from Lucille Hammersmith, we think that those were two unordinary children, not destined for unusual glories, are simply children having a play at adventure. And we would be wrong.
Wendell, startled to reality by the switch, would from time to time lapse, not from imagination to reality, but from imagination to reality to imagination. You see, Wendell secretly loved Lucille. And so he would fall from the mountainside of trolls into burgeoning annoyance with Lucille and further into a world where love in fact truly binds soul mates together. He couldn't articulate how he knew, or anything about what marriage was like; he couldn't even tell you that he loved her. But deep in his soul, that 7 year old boy understood a timelessness to their friendship. It plummeted the depths of his little heart. And he knew it to be true.

(Beginning of a short story).
BSS

Down and Out

So...
We've all been sick lately. Ben B. had it rough this morning, Jeff is still feeling effect, Reagan experienced some of the bug also this morning, and I just officially surrendered my stomach as of 12.55 am. We all see each other a lot, so we think the bug is common to us all, and it has affected us in different ways. But the effects have lingered so with some, that we (or I'm at least) beginning to suspect otherwise.

Possible theories:
1) Everyone just happened to get sick in the same way on the same day from a different bug. This theory I call, "The Coincidence." I ate some bad lettuce, Ben B. was nervous about preaching, Jeff got food poisoning, and Reagan--well, it was just a day for the bottom to fall out.
-->Problem: Least likely to account for all the data.

2) "The Bathroom." Somehow, during the downstairs deepclean, a malicious, age-old, slumbering virus was aroused (out from behind the toilet perhaps) and set out to attach those who attempted its ruin.
-->Problem: Abe hung out with the boys who have it the deepclean (Jeff and Ben B.) and he went unscathed. Maybe the bug only hates those who hate it.

3) "The Dave." We all went to Wendy's last night, where Jeff inhaled a delicious meal of doublecheese burgers, etal. Food Poisoning?
-->Problem: I didn't eay anything from Dave.

4) "The Saboteur." We also all went to Sojourn last night, and everyone enjoyed some coffee. But perhaps a coffee bean preparer didn't wash his hands enough. Or perhaps he thought it would be a memory for the making to slip a little "Hoo-Hoo" into the pot of brewed Decaf. I'm not throwing it out. Everyont who drank (I think) also got some sickness.
-->Problem: Do people really do that?

Of all the possible suggestions, I lean towards #4. Am I saying someone at Sojourn did the deed? No. But some scoundrel polluted the Joe. And his day's coming.

BSS

More snow

Oh. For Summer...

The Tribute Continues

Gaines,

When you play, I play
When I play, you play

Thanks for showing me that no moment is invulnerable to the powers of imagination. And that there's no such thing as a boring time--that "boring" is just a lazy person's way of describing opportunity for the creative.

Tribute To My Brother

This post celebrates the life of Daniel Gaines Stubblefield. Who else would fish for white trout in Dog River at 9pm in the middle of December in a Russian winter hat...and call it a good time?

Cheers,
BSS

Depression in Big Blue Nation

Patrick Patterson is out for the rest of the season with a stress fracture. I guess there is always next year.
The Trav

Text Messaging and Face Book: The downfall of Society

In recent months I have observed a conflict between two friends of mine. The main problem in this conflict is the fact that they have not actually discussed the problem. The whole conversation has taken place between Face Book and text messaging. These two means of communication are taking the place of all one on one communication in modern society. People have no ability to confront and deal with problems and conflict. This approach to conflict resolution seems to be gutless, ineffective, and unbiblical. I partake in both of these things, and I pray that I will never loose the ability to deal with conflict.
The Trav

New Years Resolutions?

How're they coming?

I took this at the subway in NYC, shortly after making a few. I've got some work to do on mine. Anybody else?
Peace,
BSS

Abe Unplugged II

Unbelievable.

Abe Unplugged

Honest--Part III

After a few months of silence, I thought it was time to finish the 3 part series on the family. I like my family because they're honest. The most challenging things any person has ever said to me have come from my family. They're honest about the condition of their soul, their failures, their successes, their dreams, their hurts, and their joys. And, especially important to me, they are unafraid to be honestly critical. I've, no doubt, been confronted more by my family than any other friend or group of friends I've ever had. There is not even a close second. Their confrontations are not overbearing (usually) because they come from a compassionate heart.

How grateful!! My heart, blinded to the parts of its own decay, is made aware of its sinful rot by my family's caring cries of alarm. With tears, they warn. Terrified at the imagination of their son's and their brother's self-corruption, they call out, "Sin no more." And in the voice of my family, I hear the voice of Jesus, whose words resuscitate the dead, dark corners of my heart and revivify the will. Preach to me, Family, and in the power of the Spirit, help me live.

Much Love.

Ps. The pic is of St. George. The image is particularly inspiring to me. Probably a post or two on it later, but it does not have much to do with this post except, if I am able to thrust a spear into the throat of the dragon, it will be because my family has seated me on the horse (and b/c my parents probably paid for the spear).

Hospitality--Part II

The pic is of the bazillion trays that my mom pulls out every Christmas season for the annual evening of carolling at our house. She makes a ton of chili, and has everyone that comes carry it around on a metal tray.

The picture is slightly humorous to me. How in the world did we collect so many trays?

And the picture also reminds me of the gospel. Jesus lowered himself to look after others' interests. Our benefit came to us at his great cost. I love going home because I get a glimpse of selflessness in my family's generosity and hospitality in the form of chili and trays. Certainly, the dollar value of our metal trays doesn't even begin to compare to the sacrifice of heaven. But in a very small way, it does allude to the glory of the gospel. Those who have been given much, give much. Those who have been forgiven much, love much.

Here's to chili and Christmas trays,
BSS

White?? Part 1

I'm not sure why families do this. But they all do. They make some picture at some point of all the family in white shirts and either jeans or khakis.

I found this picture on my dad's computer and laughed for a little bit. Then I realized how incredible my 24 years have been as a part of this particular family. A little peculiar at times, but hilarious. A little unusual in instances, but faithful to pass on the gospel from generation to generation. Rich in history, loyal to each other, zealous for Jesus.

I love Christmas because I get to be with them, remember, and make a few more memories together.

--Benjamin S. Stubblefield

The above is the first in a 3 part series on The Stubblefield Family.

Poem

A wound is forever.

It is past, it is over.
What has happened,
can’t be undone.
The hurt is deep
You are no longer

The time is now
We can start today
To heal the wounds
and mend our ways
never the same
as before
but many things
learned.
Not known before.

You wonder why
You scream out loud
You arch your neck
And ask the sky
you wait and wait
For no reply
Tears build up
drop from your eye
You are broken
And don’t know why





To Be Loved
It is
a cloud
that gives
moments
shade,
on a hot
day.

A short story

A Day to Forget
It was an unusually hot day, on June the 14th 1993. On that particular day I had graciously volunteered to mow a friend of my dads’ lawn while they were on vacation to Switzerland to ski in the Swiss Alps.
The Mowing begins
The grass was green and lush, and plenty long enough for me to see where I had already mowed. Having finished the front yard, I was sweating profusely. Sweat was dripping off the brow of my forehead, like the water of Niagara jumping over the lip of the horse shoe cliffs. Being a very light gray, my shirt no longer looked like it had been washed one hundred times as the sweat returned it to its original solid, deep gray, new looking color. It began to stick to me like bees on honey. Images of me being honey and the shirt the bees, I fought with vigor to rid it of its attacks on me. I had to get it off. The shirt was relentless as the fight continued. I grew confident when suddenly it threw an uppercut at me. Retaliating with what I thought would be the fatal blow I crossed my arms grabbed for the bottom of my shirt and began to lift. It felt like I was going to win, half of the shirt was over my head, when it threw a below the belt punch at me. I felt defeated not knowing what to do. Then anger grew inside of me creating an animal like roar. Suddenly I had an out of body experience. I turned into the Incredible Hulk. I clenched both my hands on the front of the collar, and tore the shirt right off, threw it on the ground, and ran that piece of junk over. Laughing as I watched the mower spew out my shirt all over the grass into thousands of pieces, I was the victor. Feeling as I was on top of the world, I was ready to finish the back.
I wheeled the green Lawn Boy around the side of the house toward the back. Ending up on a cement patio, but needing to be on the lawn, I then had a two-foot retaining wall to deal with. Being in a state of euphoria, I was not completely with it at that very moment. My only solution was to back up, tie my shoes real tight and run with all my might. As I began to run pushing the mower over the smooth concrete, I gained unimaginable speed. The air flying by my ears felt as if I was speeding along on a jet ski on the open water. My legs were pumping up and down like the pistons of a finely tuned racecar engine. It was all looking good until the very last second. My eyes then caught sight of a railroad tie sticking up out of the wood directly in front of me. I had no time to react. I was doomed. Slamming into the nail it stopped my momentum instantly, as it hurled me into the handle bar of the mower. I felt like a piece of cheese being sliced in half as my stomach wrap around the handlebar. Falling to the ground writhing in pain, I rolled over the retaining wall, landing with a thud. I could not breathe. My mouth was open but nothing would go in or out, I thought that I was going to die. Blacking out for a short time, I then woke up sucking the biggest gulp of air into my lungs possible. I was able to breath and that allowed me to calm down. Not focused on breathing any more I then realized how bad my stomach hurt. Hurting so badly I knew I could not finish mowing the lawn. I now had to figure out how to get home.
I realized that no one would see me in the back yard, and that my parents would not be home until much later to wonder were I was and come for me. I had two choices, lay and wait for my parents to come looking for me, or get up and somehow make it home on my own. I chose the first of the two. Knowing it would be a while until they would hopefully come; I laid my head down on the grass and slowly drifted off to sleep.

The Gospel

Okay guys here is a question for you all. I have recently been pondering on a definition of the gospel. I want to see how you all would define the gospel. What to you leave out of your definition. For example what role does works have in your definition? Should works have a place in the definition at all? Just want to hear your oppinions.
The Blind Man

Limited

I donned a cape like Superman.
I said the lines like Superman.
I hated Lex Luther like Superman.
I got nervous when Mikey said "Kryptonite" just like Superman.
And I lept from the platform just like Superman.

But gravity yanked me down like every other non-Kryptonian. And on the way down I began thinking really non-Kryptonian thoughts like, "I hope this doesn't hurt" and "Huh..I'm so freaked out right now I can't even scream."

The Law works a similar effect. God proves our natural inability to accomplish righteousness by commanding us to do it. And we realize by grace, perhaps after supposing ourselves to be complete in godliness, that we cannot do what we are told. And we need Someone to help make us able. So the issue is not simply that we won't do righteousness, but that we can't.

Limited. Despite my similarities to the Son of Steel, Alas, I was not he. Nor could I fly away to avoid the inevitable watery crash below. Two feet away from the diving platform, I realized, "Ya know. I'm falling really fast." Gravity was my law. It reminded me of my inabilities. And in turn, it made me hope for One who has fulfilled the Law's demands.
And He's sure not afraid of a little chunk of kryptonite.

Rollercoasters, Platform Jumping, and the Gospel

Living life as a blind individual adds a different level of excitement and adrenalin when doing extreme things. For example when I am on a rollercoaster it is crazy because I have all the same experiences as someone who can see except I do not know when things are coming my way. I do not know when the big hill will start, how long it will last, or when it will end. I enjoy the rush which comes from extreme things such as rollercoasters, white water rafting, and rock climbing.
Last night I added a new extreme event to my list. I jumped from a 5 meter platform at the U of L aquatics center. This experience was different from the cliff diving I have done in the past because I had nothing to judge the distance from. I have jumped from cliffs which I saw before I lost my sight, but I have never jumped from something of which I had no prior experience. I had no clue how high it really was, how long the jump would take, or where the water was. I just walked to the end and stepped off. The interesting thing about the experience was how each time I jumped I had to go through the same emotions, the nerves, the shaking, and the heart beating. As I thought about my experiences I began to think about why I had these feelings. I landed on the fact that it is so counter-intuitive. Your body is screaming at you not to jump from the safety of the plat form. Why would you leave the safety of the platform and step into nothingness. When you take that last step off the platform your mind thinks, “OH CRAP!!! THERE IS NOTHING BELOW ME!!!”
As I continued to think about the experience of jumping off the platform I realized that the gospel is much like that platform jump. Many people cannot open their hearts to the gospel because it is so counter-intuitive to them. When you tell someone you must die in order to live they cannot wrap their mind around this fact. Yet, this is exactly what Paul tells us in Galatians 2:20, “For I have been crucified with Christ; and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God. (HCSB)” In order for a person to experience life they must first be crucified with Christ. They must die. This death includes repenting from your sins and placing your faith in Christ. It is not a blind step into nothingness like my step off of the platform, but it is a step into the blood of Christ which cleanses you from your sins. This is the most extreme event which can take place in a person’s life.
Thanks to the brothers for taking me with them to the pool to remind me of this important lesson.