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One reader of the humble ramblings was a bit confused by yesterday’s declaration of my affection for the Baylor Bears. They thought I was an Ohio State Buckeye fan.  I am. I am also a diehard Cleveland Browns and Texas Rangers fan. I have a nearly unlimited capacity for suffering.

I proudly proclaim that I am an Ohio State fan by birth. I was born forty-five miles due south of the Horseshoe. For pagans the Horseshoe is the magnificent Ohio Stadium nestled on the banks of the Olentangy River in Columbus, Ohio. I have been an Ohio State fan since I can remember. If I became a Buckeye by birth then I guess I became a Baylor Bear by checkbook. Eldest son Matt became the first Bear. He was followed by brothers Scott and Brett.

If I had given this much money to any other Baptist organization I would have a little plaque on a building somewhere.

                In Loving Memory of Dave Burchett’s Retirement Fund that sacrificed itself for three undergrad degrees.

But something happened during those often painful check writing sessions. I fell in love with Baylor University. I even became an alumni by choice, an award that Baylor probably would like to have back. I love what Baylor has done for my sons. All of them have grown in wisdom and stature in, of all places; Waco, Texas. I love the atmosphere and the values that the administration unashamedly proclaims. I wrote a piece defending Baylor when they told coeds they could not pose in the Big 12 issue of a men’s magazine. Baylor is very clear about who they are and what they believe. If you want to get “nekkid” in a magazine you have eleven other choices in the Big 12. Baylor is based on Christian values. If you go there you know that fact and they do not hide that under a bushel basket. How refreshing.

Several years ago a tragedy in the men’s basketball program sullied the university and their athletic reputation. Player Patrick Dennehy was murdered by a teammate and that led to a series of revelations that included cheating, deception, lying and coverups. The basketball program was nearly dismantled by sanctions and penalties. Many wondered if the program could ever recover from such a devastating series of events.

Coach Kim Mulkey’s Lady Bears started the healing process in earnest with an amazing run to the National Championship. But on the men’s side the question was daunting. Who would take on a rebuilding job that Nehemiah might have turned down? Enter a golly gee young coach named Scott Drew from a school known as Valpo. Hardcore basketball fans knew all about the Drew family and Valparaiso University. Coach Homer Drew had built the politically incorrectly named Crusaders into a mid-major power. They became a national darling when son Bryce Drew made a miracle shot in the 1998 NCAA Tournament. His son Scott was an assistant on that team. Scott Drew had taken over an established program at Valpo. Drew could refine his skills in a safe environment with helpful input from his Dad. So when Baylor came calling the smart thing to do would be to politely ask to be placed on their no call list.

Thank God Scott Drew did not do the smart thing. For reasons only he understands Drew took the job and brought his faith, charm, hard work, recruiting skills and unbridled optimism to the banks of the Brazos River. Knowing what the team has overcome is why this year’s Baylor team cracking the Top 25 and winning that amazing 5 overtime game on Wednesday against a ranked Texas A&M team is such a great story. 

I am proud of Baylor and I am thrilled for the players who believed in Scott Drew’s dream. Stories like this are what make sports so great. Baylor basketball is a metaphor for the Christian journey. You can suffer catastrophic failure on that path but with faith and hope you can find redemption.

Grace always takes me by surprise. I am not conditioned by this world to expect acceptance when I have failed. I am conditioned to expect condemnation, shame, and rejection. But anytime I fail there is the Father God patiently and lovingly waiting for me to return. Like the father in the story of the Prodigal Son, God is waiting to race to greet us when we turn away from self  and toward Him. There is no cleanup required. A heart of repentance is all that He asks. His grace is sufficient…and always amazing. 

Baylor basketball is a great story of redemption, faith and hope. Isn’t it nice to have a good story for a change? Sic’em Bears!

It is usually not a good thing when you read about some Baptists having a long session marked by aggressive behavior. But last night it was a very good thing. The Baylor men’s basketball team worked 5 overtime periods to beat the Aggies of Texas A&M and gave the long suffering Bears an incredible win. My Bears are now ranked in the Top 25 for the first time in forty years. Sic’em Bears!

I like to review past columns now and then. This one caught my eye as I scrolled through the humble musings archives. The article tweaked my interest because I had just experienced a very bumpy flight through gray clouds last weekend. Here is that earlier post with some updates.

I fly way too much. I have amassed nearly five million airline miles over the past twenty-five years of traveling. That is a lot of bad omelettes, delays, and bruised knees from incredibly unaware passengers who recline their seat backwards at warp speed. But there is one part of flying that still fills me with awe.

Take-offs on cloudy, nasty days always reveal the nervous flyers. As the plane thunders down the runway and rises into a soupy and overcast mix the nervous flyers grip the armrest tightly and glance anxiously out the window. They look at the seasoned flyers reading the paper or napping and wonder what is wrong with them. Nerves are not soothed by seeing nothing but gray through the tiny portals. These takeoffs are usually accompanied by bumps, shudders, and stomach churning drops. The pilots always cheerfully glosses over the turbulence ahead. “We will have a little light chop as we head out”, the captain tells us before takeoff. Not long after lift off you begin wondering what “heavy chop” might feel like. Today was one of those takeoffs. The Tennessee skies were dark and we bounced through the expected turbulence of winter weather. Trust me, that is not the part that creates awe everytime I experience it.

Stormy airplane travel seemed a fitting metaphor for the past eighteen months of the journey with the striking Mrs.Burchett. It has now been almost two years since we heard the word that changed us forever.

Cancer.

Few words have more gut punching power than the “C” word. Looking back I can see that our journey through Joni’s breast cancer treatments in many ways paralleled a stormy takeoff. Just like the captain of our plane, Joni and I faced the inevitable clouds ahead with limited visibility. We could not begin to see what we faced in the coming months. The captain trusted his instruments and had faith in them to direct the flight safely. We trusted our God and the doctors as we took off in darkness to travel through our cancer journey. As the airplane hit the bumps the pilot did not let off the power in fear. In fact, bad weather often requires more power to offset the wind gusts. Joni and I learned that we had to similarly go full throttle with optimism, hope, and trust in a God who is sovereign and trustworthy. We determined to do our part and rest in Jesus. Cancer is hard. The burden is heavy. But Jesus made it easier to bear.

I will not try to claim that Joni and I have been giants of faith. We are not like the Top Gun pilots who never show fear and are always incredibly cool. We hated the turbulence. The bumps were nervewracking. Twice we hit huge bumps that knocked the emotional breath out of us. 

A nervous flyer puts his or her faith in a pilot they almost surely don’t know. We put our faith in a Saviour that Joni and I know and trust and who has been faithful for many years.

But what about the part of stormy takeoff that still inspires awe? When you lift into the clouds you can’t see what lies ahead. The ride is bumpy and a little anxious (or maybe a lot anxious). And then it happens. You break through into awesome sunlight. There is nothing quite like that experience. The sunlight is breathtaking. It is hard to believe that moments ago you were in a confusing darkness. That is how Joni and I feel at this point in our journey. We have broken through the storm clouds of the past months into the sunlight of hope and life together. A nervous flyer wonders if they will ever clear the storm clouds. At times we felt the same way. We filed a flight plan based on a God who is worthy. I am not sure exactly how we got through the clouds. I just know that God was there for every bump and shudder along the way.

If you are flying through turbulence remember that sunlight may be just ahead. Go full throttle with the power of a God who cares. Don’t back off in fear. Rejoice in the trial because it can refine you and equip you for service. And I pray that you soon will rejoice as you break through dark clouds into magnificent sunlight.

When last I left you I wrote something that some of you somehow interpreted to mean that an article would appear the next day. Here is what I actually wrote:

The article on Dan Fogelberg seemed to connect with a lot of men and we will review those thoughts tomorrow.

I guess I can see how you might read into that statement that I would post something the next day. I think using the word tomorrow might have been the problem. So now I must face the issue that all Christian people face at such a moment. How can I save face?

Uhhhh….what I meant to write was how should I explain my obvious lack of follow through on my cyberword? I had a couple of thoughts. One would be to suggest that I am so godly that I view time like the Lord.

Don’t overlook the obvious here, friends. With God, one day is as good as a thousand years, a thousand years as a day. God isn’t late with his promise as some measure lateness. (2 Peter 3, The Message)

However, I suspected my readers would toss the BS flag on that one. So I have opted for honesty. I erred. I should not have promised a next day article if I couldn’t deliver. Please forgive me. I am no threat to FedEx.

So here is the Dan Fogelberg followup only seven days late. Allow me to start with a bit of the original post.

But the song that I will remember Dan Fogelberg most for is his song written about his dad called “Leader of the Band”. His father was a musician and he passed that talent down to Dan. Parts of the lyric made me think of my Dad while he was still alive.

The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul

My Dad helped define who I have become both good and bad. I am blessed that there was far more good than bad in my father. I remember all that my Dad taught me.

I thank you for the music and your stories of the road
I thank you for the freedom when it came my time to go
I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough
And, papa, I don’t think I said ‘I love you’ near enough

My Dad knew how much I loved him. Still I wish I had told him more. But this is the portion of the song that continues to impact me as a son.

My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man
I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band

My Dad was a wonderful, kind, loving and flawed man. I have the flawed part down. I hope I am following his legacy of joy, kindness and love that he modeled.

The Psalmist writes that as a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him. I am so blessed that I had a dad that allowed me to understand how that looks. Not every man does.

Reader Paul wrote this in response to the article.

The humble ramblings have been silenced by the untimely passing of my computer’s hard drive. It seemed like it had so many gigs left to live for and so much data still to explore. It did manage to live long enough to watch it’s warranty expire just days before. But now I have a shiny new hard drive and I have managed to reload and recover most of my data. In my writing absence I was blessed by many of your comments.

Faithful reader Kathleen wrote this very kind assessment.

I chuckled today when both the Barna organization and Chuck Colson announced amazing new findings about how we Christians are viewed by the unbelieving masses, citing the books “unChristian” and “The Faith” as revolutionary expose. I haven’t the heart to tell them they could have saved themselves a lot of pondering and research simply by reading “When Bad Christians Happen to Good People.”

That seems to be my lot in this publishing world. I am, apparently, a prophet who doesn’t make a profit. My dear friend John (Thirty days till pitchers and catchers report) Frost sent me a note about the hot new book UnChristian.

I’m sure you’re familiar with “Unchristian” by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons.  It is an amazing book researching the attitudes and perceptions of Christians.  There are so many concepts that are similar to your first two bestsellers.

That is sarcasm at it’s best. My second book is apparently in the witness protection program. Somehow kind reader Ernie found a copy somewhere.

I’m reading your books simultaneously, what a great read! Much needed. Every Church should have them in their library.  

Thanks Ernie. Not sure reading the books simultaneously is a good idea but you know your own limits. Kenneth sent this note about When Bad Christians Happen to Good People.

Could not put it down once I started reading it, and it has been a great inspiration to me in my walk with Christ. There is an abundance of truth in your words and perceptions. I pray that God will open the eyes of more “Bad Christians” like me so we can get this Revolution started.

While I suspect we are a few sales short of a revolution I am blessed by your comments. I am always amazed, honored and touched when God somehow uses my books or blogs to impact others during their journey. The article on Dan Fogelberg seemed to connect with a lot of men and we will review those thoughts tomorrow.

You bless me with your comments. Thanks.

Gilda Radner developed a very funny character named Rosanne Roseannadanna. She would go off on ridiculous tangents (not unlike this space on occasion) and then defend herself to colleague Jane Curtain.

“Well Jane, it just goes to show you, it’s always something!”

Yesterday was one of those “it’s always something” days. The day started with the unexpected and untimely demise of my computer’s hard drive. I spent my morning trying to revive it. That was a lovely start to the day.

Last night my beloved Ohio State Buckeyes lost (again) in the BCS National Championship game. Earlier in my life journey those two events would have sent me into a multiple day funk of bad moods and bad manners.

This morning I am not depressed. I wish my hard drive had lived a longer life. It would have been fun if Ohio State had won. But this season of my life is shaped by one very big word.

Perspective.

One year ago on this date we were getting ready for my Mom’s funeral. My bride was in the middle of her battle with breast cancer. Our friend Susan Flickner was only days away from going to be with Jesus. I wrote these words almost exactly one year ago.

I reflected on a difficult year past and a difficult start to the new one. For some reason a favorite old hymn came to mind. This is a song that has an amazing story. A song born out of tragedy and soul crushing grief. Horatio Spafford was a real estate investor in Chicago in the nineteenth century. His first tragedy was losing nearly all his wealth in the Great Chicago fire in 1871. Spafford was a friend of famed preacher D.L.Moody and the ministry of the great evangelist helped him to recover. Two years later, knowing that Moody was going to speak in England, Spafford decided to take the family there. At the last minute a business conflict delayed Horatio’s trip so he sent his wife and four daughters ahead.

On November 21, 1873, while crossing the Atlantic on the S.S. Ville Du Havre, the ship was struck by an iron sailing vessel and two hundred and twenty six people lost their lives, including all four of Spafford’s daughters. Somehow his wife, Anna, survived. On arriving in England, she sent a telegram to Horatio with the words “Saved alone”.

Can you imagine the devastation that Spafford felt? There was no internet or phones to comfort his wife. No direct plane flights to get there in hours. Horatio could only book his own ocean passage that would, ironically, pass the spot where his daughters had perished. It was in the Mid-Atlantic that Horatio Spafford penned the words to the song “It is Well with my Soul”. Imagine his anguish as you read these words.

When peace, like a river,
attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot,
Thou hast taught me to know,
“It is well, it is well with my soul”

Chorus: It is well (it is well)
with my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul

So as I face this tough patch of highway I remembered the words of Horatio Spafford.

“Whatever my lot,
Thou hast taught me to know,
“It is well, it is well with my soul.”

And that has been a comfort through the sadness of last year and has become my anchor for little speed bumps on life’s highway like the ones that happened yesterday. An unknown author once wrote that we have no right to ask when trouble comes, “”Why did this happen to me?” unless we ask the same question for every moment of happiness that comes our way. The man of many sorrows, Job, once said a very similar thing in the midst of his inconceivable grief.

His wife said, “Still holding on to your precious integrity, are you? Curse God and be done with it!” He told her, “You’re talking like an empty-headed fool. We take the good days from God—why not also the bad days?”  Job 2 The Message

I am pretty sure that I would not phrase it quite that way to the lovely Mrs.Burchett. But his rationale was right on. We accept so many blessings and good days as our birth rite. Jesus never promised that there would be no bad days.

So armed with a perspective that I didn’t really sign up for I weathered yesterday okay. I am still proud to be an Ohio State fan. I am proud of Coach Jim Tressel, his integrity and his steadfast faith in Christ. I am proud of the players who worked so hard to get there. Don’t let the guys who can’t jump off the couch without pulling a muscle get you down. You have accomplished so much. Hold your head high today.

My hard drive may or may not be healed. I can deal with that. Because my wife is at my side and feeling good as I begin this year. And it is well with my soul.

My sons gave me a wonderful Christmas blessing, gift and challenge this year. I yield my space to my sons as I share their Christmas letter with you. They have a challenge for you, my tens of readers. As usual, I will have the last word at the end.

Blessings, Dave

Our dad is a little odd at times.  His self-deprecating nature, honest candor, and repetitious jokes all make for some entertaining moments throughout our growing up years.   He is occasionally witty and poignant in his “daily ramblings” while attempting to enter pop culture despite the increase in grey hair on the goatee.  He rarely misses an opportunity to toss out a dad joke or sports opinion while serving up a daily menu of dadisms.  Although these are the characteristics that come and go while adding to the quirkiness of our family, one thing about dad has never changed…his heart for a cause. 

Granted, the causes have changed over the years.  It started with Athletes in Action, to youth coaching,  then on to his “real” job as a sports television director.  He has his boycott of Exxon, but we try not to talk about the impact his “protest” had on the multi-billion dollar company.  He buys coffee from Pura Vida, supports everything that raises money for breast cancer awareness, asks us to give goats through World Vision, and funds a host of other causes including mission trips and church camp scholarships. 

Thus, for Christmas, we are honoring our Dad with another selfless gift.  This year we are buying him a team through the Mocha Club.  The Mocha Club is an organization encouraging people to give up something they can go without, or $7, to benefit African Leadership and the people they serve.  The $7, which all goes to Africa, can feed 1 person for a month, educate 2 children for a term, save 1 person from malaria, or provide clean water for 7 Africans for an entire year.  For the cost of two trips to Starbucks, which has a loyal customer in our father, we can make a difference in the lives of those who need our resources.  We are buying him the first year of donations, $7 a month, which will create the “The Fellowship of the Broken”.      

But this is the best part and the one that will resonate most with Dad…you don’t do it alone.  This is directly from Mocha Club…“everyone spends a couple of dollars each month on something they can go without.   Maybe for you it’s a midnight run to a fast-food restaurant. Maybe it’s a movie rental. Maybe it’s a mocha.  For the cost of only two mochas a month, you and your friends – together – can change lives.  The Mocha Club is about community amongst friends, but more importantly, it’s about joining together to provide hope to our community in Africa.” 

Our dad is all about people.  For years he has been about you all, writing daily to give you a glimpse of what it looks like to stumble through this world attempting to live an authentic life for Christ.  We are asking you to join his team.  You can give as much as you would like…but as a team you will do more together.  And together is better.  Henri Nouwen said, “Every human being has a great, yet often unknown, gift to care, to be compassionate, to become present to the other, to listen, to hear and to receive. If that gift would be set free and made available, miracles could take place. Those who really care can receive bread from a stranger and smile in gratitude, can feed many without even realizing it. Those who can sit in silence with their fellowman not knowing what to say but knowing that they should be there, can bring new life in a dying heart. Those who are not afraid to hold a hand in gratitude, to shed tears in grief, and to let a sigh of distress arise straight from the heart, can break through paralyzing boundaries and witness the birth of a new fellowship, the fellowship of the broken. . . .” 

The birth of this fellowship, The Fellowship of the Broken, begins today.  Our Christmas gift to Dad, the man we know cares for others with a passion that draws people to him.  This is an invitation to you, the reader, to join him on this team.  All you have to do is go to www.mochaclub.org and click to join an existing team (The Fellowship of the Broken) that will work to support orphan care in Africa.  Together we can make a difference…and dad, this is our gift to you, to serve others for His glory. 

Blessings,

Matt, Scott, and Brett

Can you give up a couple of mochas a month?  Bring your lunch one or two days to work to help desperate people? Pass on some magazines at the newstand? Any one of those “sacrifices” would save seven bucks or so and you could feed a person for a month, educate 2 children for a term, provide clean water for seven Africans for an entire year or save a person from maleria. Would you join my team? Seven bucks a month. Ready to make a difference? Click here to join the team!

This series was well received last year. You may view this as a repeat. I prefer to think of it as regifting. Here is Part 2 of the series.

Blessings and Merry Christmas!   

Dave

As a public service I am providing a shopping guide for things you can give to Jesus on His upcoming birthday. Let’s be honest…giving the King of Kings and Lord of Lords a unique gift is really tough. Yesterday’s post examined the gifts brought to the young Christ child over 2,000 years by the three wise men, I had hoped that examining what the Magi brought might jump start our gift giving ideas.  By the way, there is a plaque that is available in catalogs this year with the title “What if They Had Been 3 Wise Women?” Here is the conclusion….

They would have asked directions.
 Brought practical gifts
 Made a casserole
 Cleaned the stable
‘ Changed the baby
 And there would be peace on earth.

Alert readers from yesterday remember that the first gift was gold. That is always a lovely gift. But now it gets a little tougher.

Then they opened their luggage and presented gifts: gold, frankincense, myrrh. Matt 2:11 (MsgB)

The second gift brought out of the luggage by the Magi was frankincense. Frankincense is a very costly and fragrant incense. It is a gum distilled from a tree found in the Middle East. It is a white resin or gum, and is obtained by slitting the bark of the “Arbor Thurisfrom”, allowing the gum to flow out (there will be a test). The word actually means “whiteness”, referring to the white colored juice which flows out of the wound in the tree. This gum hardens for three months, and is gathered at the end of the summer, and sold in the form of “tears”, or clumps of hardened resin. Frankincense is highly fragrant when burned, and was, therefore, used in worship, where it was burned as a pleasant offering to God. It is interesting to note that this sweet smelling resin comes as the result of the tree’s woundedness and pain. It is cut open and bleeds to give us the sweet smelling scent. The spiritual parallel is interesting. When we can worship God in the midst of our sorrow, our brokenness, then it is a sweet smelling offering to our Lord. 

King David wrote, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” (Psalms 51:17 )

Much emphasis in worship today is on “celebration”. No time for agonizing and tears, only for shouts of joy and victory. While joyful praise is acceptable and pleasing to God, tears, like frankincense resin, oozing out of our hurts, broken hearts, and tears of repentance are especially pleasing – a sweet smelling sacrifice to the Lord. Anyone can dance and shout when blessings are flowing, and everything is going their way. But true worship happens when we must overcome feelings of self-pity, fear and doubt. So how can we offer a pleasing aroma to God?

How about giving Jesus the gift of belief for His birthday? You believe that Jesus is the Son of God…that He came to earth as a little baby over 2,000 years ago. That he lived a Holy life and died on a cross as perfect sacrifice for my sin and your sin. I would guess that most of the people who stumble onto this blog believe that. But what I am talking about is really believing God in every circumstance.

Think about giving the gift of really believing in Jesus for every need this coming year.

Believing that you are an amazing one of a kind creation whom God has placed where you are and with gifts that can be uniquely used where you are.

“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are-no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought. Matthew 5:5 (MsgB) 

Later in the gospel of Matthew we find this…If you puff yourself up, you’ll get the wind knocked out of you. But if you’re content to simply be yourself, your life will count for plenty. Matthew 23:12 (MsgB)

I believe that comparison is one of Satan’s primary strategies to cause despair. You are wonderfully made by the Creator of the Universe and you are valuable. Michelangelo made a nearly perfect sculpture of David. The statue’s muscular tension is precisely rendered down to the muscle contraction on his forehead as David is poised to go into battle. It is perhaps the most important sculpture in the world and it was carved from one large block of marble. Why is that unique? Two other artists rejected the block of marble because of imperfections. Michelangelo saw the beauty in that block of marble that others did not. Jesus sees the beauty in you that others might not. Can you believe in a Jesus that can take you, even if you feel like a rejected block of marble, and then lovingly chip away until you become a beautiful work of art? Can you give Jesus the gift of believing that He is really there with you…as your Good Shepherd…ready to bind up your wounds and lead you to still waters.

“I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd puts the sheep before himself, sacrifices himself if necessary. A hired man is not a real shepherd. The sheep mean nothing to him. He sees a wolf come and runs for it, leaving the sheep to be ravaged and scattered by the wolf. He’s only in it for the money. The sheep don’t matter to him. “I am the Good Shepherd. I know my own sheep and my own sheep know me. In the same way, the Father knows me and I know the Father. I put the sheep before myself, sacrificing myself if necessary. You need to know that I have other sheep in addition to those in this pen. I need to gather and bring them, too. They’ll also recognize my voice. Then it will be one flock, one Shepherd. This is why the Father loves me: because I freely lay down my life. And so I am free to take it up again. No one takes it from me. I lay it down of my own free will. I have the right to lay it down; I also have the right to take it up again. I received this authority personally from my Father.” John 10:11-18 (MsgB)

The Good Shepherd had the choice and chose to give us the marvelous gift of laying down His life and then taking it up again. Believing Him…really believing Him…would make a lovely gift to Jesus on His birthday.