The last of our boxes and cargo are loaded up in a 10x30, climate-controlled box in North Texas. Our move from Beaumont is complete. No more mortgage. No more home-ownership and all of the stress that goes with this privilege. As I said before, I am going to enjoy the next few months. I look forward to some financial breathing room and a break from the headaches of home improvement.
Thank you, God, for your provision and faithfulness.
And thank you, God, for good neighbors.
We could not have loaded up our stuff without the support of neighbors like "Ron," my gruff, retired, ex-Marine of a neighbor. When I was trying to hoist my concrete-filled basketball pole out of the ground and the disks in my back were just about to pop out of place, Ron came out with his ladder, channel locks, sledge hammer, and other tools and helped remove the monster from the ground. And when I was called inside to help my wife take down curtain rods and other moving-day projects, he stayed there - cigarette dangling out of his mouth - until the job was done.
Bless you, Ron.
Russ and Laura, our neighbors across the street, cleaned out our freezer and fridge.
Need I say more?
They also let our daughter spend the night with their daughter for two nights, so Kim and I could get work done, and they even bought our family pizza and welcomed us into their home.
Stacy and Andy, great friends who live down the street, took in two of our sons for the day (and one of them overnight), so we could get work done. There were other neighbors there in our time of need, and others who would have helped if we had asked.
The point is that there are few simpler pleasures in life than neighbors coming together to help other neighbors. Honestly, I do not know if I would have been as kind if I had seen my neighbors in need.
I would have been too "busy" to stop and serve. I would have assumed "somebody else" would help them.
At any rate, I am humbled by the simple acts of love and service by my neighbors.
Their help was unsolicited and unexpected. They are more than people I happened to live beside for three years. They were truly my neighbors.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
It's Moving Day
Tomorrow the Keffer family loads up the pickup and heads South to Beaumont to load up our "stuff" and finalize our move to North Texas.
On Tuesday, we sign on the dotted line and finalize the sale of our house. We will officially be homeless, or at least not on the hook for a mortgage payment or utilities bills for a few months.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
It is hard to believe we have finally arrived at this point.
What is the next step? I just can't say. We will put all of our belongs in storage and when the smoke clears in a month or two, we will consider the options of buying or building. Renting makes no financial sense for our family.
We are thankful that we have family to live with, so we can have a temporary cushion and make a smart choice with our next home purchase.
In the meantime, I will enjoy living mortgage-free for as long as it lasts and get our "house" in order.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Cargo Cult Alive and Well Today
Many of us participate in a Cargo Cult in one way or another.
Our next-door neighbor comes home with a new purchase (new car, new riding mower, new fishing rod, new patio furniture, new whatever) and we go native, much like the South Pacific islanders mentioned in my previous blog.
We pray the consumer gods will send to us a cargo container from across the sea.
We imagine how life for us would be better, if we too had a newer family vehicle, a larger house, a faster computer, nicer clothing, better power tools, greener grass.
And before we know it, we start to shape our life around this burning desire to acquire.
It starts with a little surfing the Web, checking out the best prices for this or that, mostly to convince ourselves that we have been responsible consumers.
It continues with a visit to the car showroom, the shopping mall, or the home improvement store, "just to look." And the deal is sealed when we scan the credit cards in our wallet and begin to consider the financing options.
We may tell ourselves "no" at some point in the hunt, just to feel good about ourselves. But it is of no use. Our desire is too much. The current is too strong. And eventually, we know in our heart of hearts, the cargo container will be ours, one way or another.
This is the way it goes with consumer desire, or lust and covetousness of any sort. Once we see something we want and become convinced "it was meant to be," there is no stopping us, even if we don't have the money.
We will have whatever causes our consumer hearts to burn.
It is cult-like behavior to be sure. It is a religion in itself, complete with a god (self-fulfillment), sacraments (credit card and loan applications), sanctification (improving credit card scores), justification (acquisition), and salvation (consumption).
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Cult of Cargo
Ever heard of a Cargo Cult?
Me neither, until I read about them recently in the Thomas Merton book Love and Living.
Apparently, during early stages of western colonization in the South Pacific, the islanders were captivated by large cargo (kago) containers that would "magically" appear on shore via the white man. These containers -- sent by supply boats from England, France, or wherever -- would contain food, medicine, alcohol, tobacco, clothing, and all of the basic things a person or a village might want or need.
Soon, the arrival of these containers led to a Messianic mindset and myth-making on the part of the islanders. Merton writes, "... Kago came to have a very important meaning for the native: the coming of a good time, when one would be like the whites and enjoy what the whites enjoyed -- the coming of the millennium." The islanders, who lived a rather miserable standard of living when compared to the white man, wanted to have kago of their own. They wanted to be on par with the white man, who got to sit on his front porch and never do much work.
And since the Bible that the white man handed the islanders did not explain how to get kago, Merton writes, and because the natives never saw a factory or an industrial plant in England where these products were manufactured and processed, the natives started to develop mythical explanations. Was it the white man's ancestors, sending kago from across the sea? Did the natives have distant ancestors who would do the same?
You can imagine where all of this would go. Rituals and customs emerged. In one instance, Merton writes, the natives saw how the white people liked to put flowers in front of their houses. Was it the flowers that summoned their ancestors to send kago? The islanders followed suit and soon had the whole island covered with flowers, thinking this to be a ritualistic act that would bring about kago for them.
So what does this have to do with us today? Why would I blog about Cargo Cults of the South Pacific?
Well, Merton goes on to make a powerful connection to our consumer culture today. We might laugh about this primitive behavior of the islanders, he writes, but we consumer-minded westerners have created Cargo Cults of our own that are every bit as "primitive" as the islanders.
You will have to follow up with my blog later this week to read more about what Merton, writing in the 1960s, has to speak to us today. And of course, you may already see the connections yourself.
Me neither, until I read about them recently in the Thomas Merton book Love and Living.
Apparently, during early stages of western colonization in the South Pacific, the islanders were captivated by large cargo (kago) containers that would "magically" appear on shore via the white man. These containers -- sent by supply boats from England, France, or wherever -- would contain food, medicine, alcohol, tobacco, clothing, and all of the basic things a person or a village might want or need.
Soon, the arrival of these containers led to a Messianic mindset and myth-making on the part of the islanders. Merton writes, "... Kago came to have a very important meaning for the native: the coming of a good time, when one would be like the whites and enjoy what the whites enjoyed -- the coming of the millennium." The islanders, who lived a rather miserable standard of living when compared to the white man, wanted to have kago of their own. They wanted to be on par with the white man, who got to sit on his front porch and never do much work.
And since the Bible that the white man handed the islanders did not explain how to get kago, Merton writes, and because the natives never saw a factory or an industrial plant in England where these products were manufactured and processed, the natives started to develop mythical explanations. Was it the white man's ancestors, sending kago from across the sea? Did the natives have distant ancestors who would do the same?
You can imagine where all of this would go. Rituals and customs emerged. In one instance, Merton writes, the natives saw how the white people liked to put flowers in front of their houses. Was it the flowers that summoned their ancestors to send kago? The islanders followed suit and soon had the whole island covered with flowers, thinking this to be a ritualistic act that would bring about kago for them.
So what does this have to do with us today? Why would I blog about Cargo Cults of the South Pacific?
Well, Merton goes on to make a powerful connection to our consumer culture today. We might laugh about this primitive behavior of the islanders, he writes, but we consumer-minded westerners have created Cargo Cults of our own that are every bit as "primitive" as the islanders.
You will have to follow up with my blog later this week to read more about what Merton, writing in the 1960s, has to speak to us today. And of course, you may already see the connections yourself.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Fighting for Our Heart's Desire
It could be the six inches of snow on the ground and four days with ice-covered roads, but today as I read Psalm 37:3-4, I find myself reminiscing about a college spring break trip to Florida, WAY back in the 1990s.
Some friends and I were putting through an upscale marina in Miami in a flat-bottomed aluminum boat, on our way to a snorkeling adventure that never really panned out. While trolling through the marina, I remember dropping my jaw in disbelief at the sight of these mammoth yachts, each with fun, personalized names painted on the back.
One of these yachts, named "Heart's Desire," sticks in my memory.
The yacht was owned, I later learned, by a wealthy Christian family in Miami known by one of my friends. The name they chose for their yacht (and the message that it sent to a baby Christian like myself) made a lasting impression. It was something like, "Faithful Christian discipleship equals yacht," or maybe, "Honor Jesus and He will give you cool stuff."
Today I know this message to be the false message of the Prosperity Gospel. The Prosperity Gospel mistakingly assures us that if we believe and follow Jesus, God will give us our "heart's desire" (insert yacht, fishing boat, big house, nice car, better golf clubs, or whatever material thing your heart desires).
We know not to store up for ourselves "treasures on earth ... but treasures in heaven." (Mt. 6:19)
We know not to worry about what we eat, or what we wear, or what we drive, or where we live, or what toys we play with, but to trust in God's provision of the things we need." (Mt. 6:25)
We know not to seek after the "things that will be added to us," but to "seek first the kingdom of God." (Mt. 6.33)
But man, it ain't easy!
I confess that I struggle to keep these Scripture passages in the right order.
The point of "Seek first the kingdom" is really about the Kingdom, and not about the material stuff tacked on to me as a result of my belief.
The point of Psalm 37:3-4 ("Take delight in the Lord, and he will give to you the desires of your heart") is about taking delight in the Lord, and not taking delight in the stuff we want or think we need.
To use theological terms, Jesus and the Kingdom of God that he announces is the substance of these passages; the "stuff" that we get is the accident.
Sounds good.
So what do I do about that house my wife and I are eying up in our hearts and minds? How do I keep from taking more delight in my iPhone and my new "Daily Devotional" app, rather than the quiet moments I spend in prayer in the presence of God.
It ain't easy.
When it comes down to it, I am no better than the dude with the fancy yacht. He is just more honest than me.
It takes work, daily walking, to keep the kingdom first and the other stuff in second place.
It takes diligence and constant reminders to keep God as our true delight and heart's desire.
Some friends and I were putting through an upscale marina in Miami in a flat-bottomed aluminum boat, on our way to a snorkeling adventure that never really panned out. While trolling through the marina, I remember dropping my jaw in disbelief at the sight of these mammoth yachts, each with fun, personalized names painted on the back.
One of these yachts, named "Heart's Desire," sticks in my memory.
The yacht was owned, I later learned, by a wealthy Christian family in Miami known by one of my friends. The name they chose for their yacht (and the message that it sent to a baby Christian like myself) made a lasting impression. It was something like, "Faithful Christian discipleship equals yacht," or maybe, "Honor Jesus and He will give you cool stuff."
Today I know this message to be the false message of the Prosperity Gospel. The Prosperity Gospel mistakingly assures us that if we believe and follow Jesus, God will give us our "heart's desire" (insert yacht, fishing boat, big house, nice car, better golf clubs, or whatever material thing your heart desires).
We know not to store up for ourselves "treasures on earth ... but treasures in heaven." (Mt. 6:19)
We know not to worry about what we eat, or what we wear, or what we drive, or where we live, or what toys we play with, but to trust in God's provision of the things we need." (Mt. 6:25)
We know not to seek after the "things that will be added to us," but to "seek first the kingdom of God." (Mt. 6.33)
But man, it ain't easy!
I confess that I struggle to keep these Scripture passages in the right order.
The point of "Seek first the kingdom" is really about the Kingdom, and not about the material stuff tacked on to me as a result of my belief.
The point of Psalm 37:3-4 ("Take delight in the Lord, and he will give to you the desires of your heart") is about taking delight in the Lord, and not taking delight in the stuff we want or think we need.
To use theological terms, Jesus and the Kingdom of God that he announces is the substance of these passages; the "stuff" that we get is the accident.
Sounds good.
So what do I do about that house my wife and I are eying up in our hearts and minds? How do I keep from taking more delight in my iPhone and my new "Daily Devotional" app, rather than the quiet moments I spend in prayer in the presence of God.
It ain't easy.
When it comes down to it, I am no better than the dude with the fancy yacht. He is just more honest than me.
It takes work, daily walking, to keep the kingdom first and the other stuff in second place.
It takes diligence and constant reminders to keep God as our true delight and heart's desire.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Power Outage Was Just a Dream
As my wife and I lay in bed this morning (our 8-year-old daughter snuggled between us), an alarming thing happened.
The lights went out. The ceiling fan rotated slowly to a halt. It was a power outage and we, along with thousands of others around the Dallas Metroplex, would be "trapped" for one more day indoors because of an ice storm and frigid temps.
The first thing that entered my mind was my laptop and cell phone, and how much battery power I had left for the day. I thought about wireless access, and how a lack of it would mean no connection to e-mail, work, and the outside world ALL DAY LONG!
I thought about how tragic this was for my children, that their poor souls would have no XBox, no Internet computer games, no television, and only limited battery life on their iTouch devices.
The stories they can tell their children one day.
I thought that we might spend an afternoon like the Waltons, or maybe the Swiss Family Robinson. We would play Scrabble or charades, or work on my 12-year-old son's Rube Goldberg project for science class. Maybe we would even read books or other primitive activities.
And then I awoke from the dream. The ceiling fan and lights came back on. The television and Xbox weren't that far behind. And of course I am back-and-running on the Internet.
It's back to life as usual in the Keffer household.
And there was such potential for something different in our lives today.
The lights went out. The ceiling fan rotated slowly to a halt. It was a power outage and we, along with thousands of others around the Dallas Metroplex, would be "trapped" for one more day indoors because of an ice storm and frigid temps.
The first thing that entered my mind was my laptop and cell phone, and how much battery power I had left for the day. I thought about wireless access, and how a lack of it would mean no connection to e-mail, work, and the outside world ALL DAY LONG!
I thought about how tragic this was for my children, that their poor souls would have no XBox, no Internet computer games, no television, and only limited battery life on their iTouch devices.
The stories they can tell their children one day.
I thought that we might spend an afternoon like the Waltons, or maybe the Swiss Family Robinson. We would play Scrabble or charades, or work on my 12-year-old son's Rube Goldberg project for science class. Maybe we would even read books or other primitive activities.
And then I awoke from the dream. The ceiling fan and lights came back on. The television and Xbox weren't that far behind. And of course I am back-and-running on the Internet.
It's back to life as usual in the Keffer household.
And there was such potential for something different in our lives today.
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