Rick Nier...Woo!

I just do not understand families. Yours, mine, none of them. The fact is that families are one of God's gifts to us as relational beings, but we find many ways to mess it up. I'm reading about King David's family in 2 Samuel, which isn't exactly a blueprint for normal family relationships. In fact, this one family would be a goldmine for any Jerry Springer producer. Without going into all of the dirty details, one of David's sons, Absalom, starts vying for the kingdom. There is probably no better way to say, 'Dad, I wish you were dead', than to start trying to become king. Absalom starts getting people to gather with him, no doubt to storm the castle. But here is where I am confused. This is David we're talking about. The giant-killing, bear-killing, lion-killing, Philistine-rocking, blessed-by-God man known as David. If I'm David in this situation, I'm not going anywhere. I would gather my friends, grab a sword, and plan on putting my boy over

I think that I would have liked to hang around with King David. He seemed like a guy's guy among Bible-time guys. After all, the dude killed a bear and a lion. I might not take him to the zoo, but he'd be fun to have around. I think what I like best about David is that you knew where you stood with him. He didn't mince words and he didn't concern himself with his professional image all that much. Take 2 Samuel 6 for example. This records his two attempts at bringing the Ark of God back to Jerusalem. When the first time failed, we read that he was mad. I like that because it meant that not only did he fail once in a while, but he cared. After figuring out what God wanted, he was successfully bringing the Ark into Jerusalem and he was ecstatic. He danced in such a way that his wife called him on it later. You can read her words in 2 Samuel 6:20-22. I must admit that at times my wife has called me out on how I dance as well. I'm not very good at dancing, and so it can

I was watching clips on ESPN of this past Sunday's NFL games. I saw a clip of Cincinnati Bengal's wide receiver formerly known as Chad Johnson. He legally had his name changed to Chad Ochocinco, to go with his jersey number (85). Now, I am not a hater when it comes to pro athletes and how they display their enthusiasm. But... I think that all pro athletes should be given a 'down-to-earth' guy when they enter pro sports. This 'down-to-earth' guy would be their partner in life, to ensure that they don't do or say things that would be deemed to be stupid by the rest of us living in reality. In case you're wondering, changing your name legally to reflect your jersey number, in Spanish mind you, would be something that the 'down-to-earth' guy would catch. This isn't the worst thing a pro athlete could do, but if they all had a 'down-to-earth' guy, they would be protected from some of the things they do that are out of touch with reality. T

"Now Abel kept flocks, and Cain worked the soil" (Genesis 4:2). Maybe I'm alone in this, but I've always pictured Abel as kind of a girly man. Maybe it's because of I've never met a small farmer, which is what Cain was. Perhaps it's because of Genesis 4:8, "And while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him." If you win the fight, you must be a man, right? There are several problems with my theory. I'll only select two. Abel watched flocks, which could be a very dangerous job. King David, while a shepherd, killed lions and bears in order to protect the flock. Cain probably planned a sneak attack. Anyone can kill anyone else when they get sneaky. My problem isn't that my old theory has Abel playing with dolls with his mom. My problem is that it reveals a much deeper issue I have. I've assumed for years that Abel liked to comb hair simply because he lost a fight and was killed. Where does all this assuming c

This is for all you company guys out there. I feel your pain. I was at an all day meeting for a larger group that I am a part of. I didn't want to go. I had other things to do (don't we all?). But I went. I would like to say that my attitude was above reproach and that I had planned to 'make the best of it'. But it was not. So when our guest speaker started out by telling us how he had planned what he was going to say, I was only half listening. When he told us that he would be ok if what he had to say might only encourage a few of our group, I about shut it down, as my expectation was that it would not be me. After all, what are the odds? But lucky for me, and perhaps unlucky for you, I listened and now have this to blog about. Our guest speaker said, "If you died, would your family say you died doing what you loved or would they say the church stressed you out and killed you?" And instantly I removed the arrow from between my eyes. I realized it was me. I

Today we celebrated our oldest daughter's birthday. She'll turn 8 on Monday. Actually, it feels like she'll turn 13, but that's besides the point. At her party were 7 other girly-girls. They were snapping their fingers while cocking their heads. It was more than a generous helping of tween trouble, and I had a front row seat. But that's besides the point as well. At the party we had cupcakes. I am not a cake guy. I consider myself a conissuer of desserts. Not making them...eating them. But I will very seldomly eat cake. But cupcakes are a different story. I love cupcakes and I have a theory as to why. I think that, somehow, when people make cupcakes, it's like all the moist goodness from a full-sized cake gets smashed down into one little cake the size of a cup. I can't explain all the technical details as to how it works, but I just taste that it works. Perhaps if I could shove a full sheet cake into my cake-hole all at once, I could prove this theory. Unti

I have this friend. Let's not use his name. Let's not even assume that you know him. But just know that, unlike so many assume, this is not an imaginary friend. He exists and he needs help. My help. Help that I feel unable to provide. Not because of lack of time or lack of desire. Not because of distance or lack of know-how. It's just that the help needs to be....good? big? timely? inspiring? Perhaps all of these at once, which I why I am inadequate. Inadequacy is not a new feeling, and not even one I am uncomfortable with. I know I am not alone in this. As I've blogged recently, I've been reading through 1 Samuel. This guy David lived a very wild life. At one moment he is taking down giants, the next he is hiding in a cave. It would seem that he only knows how to win in battle. Yet he has this friend, Jonathan. Dave and Jon are the best of friends, both with needs that the other could help with. And yet...they are unable to do so. There exists this force inbetween

The morning I desire would have me waking up around 10am. Between then and noon, I may have showered, exercised, and eaten breakfast. This morning would also include quiet time with God, some ESPN, and a quick update on what's going on in the world. (I find this out by checking Facebook, don't you?) The morning I get normally begins around 6:57am. This is 3 minutes before my alarm goes off, but I always wake up shortly before. Why is this? For once it would be nice to look at the clock and see that you have 6 hours left to sleep. Once I'm up, the 90-minute dash to get everyone to work and school involves cries for cartoons and food. It involves dressing squirmy toddlers and reminding older children that certain colors actually clash and should not be worn together. The 'quiet' time is not so quiet, as noise is coming from somewhere or something. How can you read the Psalms when people are crying about stinky diapers and no pop-tarts and tangled hair needing to be sh

As families go crazy getting back into the school schedule, I went crazy planning kick-off events for our church. And yesterday was the eye of the storm. We began our ministry year for just about every area of our church. I'd been preparing for a month and we had groups of people everywhere doing everything. The good news is that it all went well. So, after closing up my office and stopping by for a very delicious cookie, I went home. I had sent my wife and kids that way about an hour previous, so I was expecting that all would be calm. I'm a fool. My youngest was up...again. She was refusing to go to bed...again. She was using all her tricks and all her cute...again. After about ten minutes of my wife and I playing good cop, bad cop, I decided to try another tactic. I sat down in our hallway, spent and exhausted and asked my daughter if I could read her one more book. She accepted my proposal and decided to sit on my lap as I read. My children never seem to be as content than

I'm not just saying this because I'm a pastor. But I think killing pastors is wrong. There should be a rule. I know, I know, we got that rule about not murdering. It seems to me that, despite the absoluteness of the wording, it has gotten a tad convoluted over time. That's why I think we need this new rule. No killing pastors. This comes to mind as I am reading through 1 Samuel and came across chapter 22. King Saul is going nuts looking for David, so he can kill him. (It should be noted that heirs to the kingdom shouldn't be killed either.) Saul finds out that some priests helped David out. So Saul killed them all. It should have made Saul take pause, though, because when he first gave the order, the soldiers said no. When men trained to be killing machines say no to killing, you may want to rethink your orders. But along came a guy who had no inhibitions about killing priests...and he did. Listen, I'm not protecting any potential king. I know some guys who would ma