GlocalNet

There are so many things in life that I look at and get excited about that God has done, how life has come together for me.  I’m so grateful for my wife, Ben, Jill & Ti.  I love NorthWood.  I love young church planters.  I enjoy working globally.  Still, there is much left undone and many dreams to be fulfilled.  I have enough to keep me busy and focused for at least another 30 years--and if successful--will demand another 30 after that.
I remember the first time I realized I was not enough.  It was in the second grade with my teacher Mrs. Mayfield.  She was much like Oppy’s teacher in Mayberry that Andy dated!  The class was divided into 3 reading groups.  I was in the first group.  Truth was, I struggled in that first group and the teacher knew it.  She called my parents and told me one day I was good, but that maybe I should be in the second group--it would help me learn better and if I did good I could go back to the first group.  I wondered if I was holding the first group back?  What would the kids be like in the second group?  I agreed and made the switch.  I did ok, but after a while, she pulled me off to the side and said maybe I should go to the third group.  I was embarrassed now--maybe this was to motivate me.  That third group, those poor kids--they all knew who they were, and so did everyone else.  There was some respectability in the second group-—but none in the third.  I felt sorry for them.  Now, I was going to be one of them.  I told the teacher I didn’t want to, but would do whatever I needed to do.  I was spared.  But I also lost my confidence-—and that didn’t come real fast.  It’s hard to believe I read as much as I do now. 
I wanted to be in that first group--could survive in the second group--as long as I didn’t get lost in the third group.  At times, as an adult, I’ve felt that way.  I would strive to run with the fastest horses--sometimes I did, and other times I couldn’t keep up.  I’ve discovered most people want to be in that first group and no one wants to be in the third group--but …

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What a gift this week has been! I’m in a room at a camp in Missouri and each morning and afternoon I’ve done research from the Bible, religious books, and secular books. I’ve also done a lot of reflecting on our work globally, my network and how things work as we engage globally. Right in the middle of that, I’m here seeing it all lived out—-a microcosm of the world in Southeastern Missouri. I’m speaking to several hundred Hmong each evening at their youth camp. It’s been a few years since I’ve spoken at a youth camp. I’ve never before addressed as many Asian-descent young people.
Their worship is incredible. Their arms reach to the sky, their hands clap, their eyes weep, their mouths smile. I love these kids--this is the future. Thank you God for letting me be here. 20 years ago, most of them weren’t born. 20 years ago, their parents were in Laos, Vietnam, Thailand, Myanmar, and Southern China. Because of persecution of various sorts or their connection with the US, each of the parents of these Hmong youth found themselves in very difficult situations and became refugees and ultimately wound up here. 20 years ago, their parents dressed in the daily Hmong clothes that are so colorful and unique. 20 years ago, they lived in huts with thatched roofs. 20 years ago, the music was a wooden flute and a strange looking instrument--far less complicated than the harpsichord. 20 years ago, they lived for rice. Their crisis was their greatest blessing--it got them out to a place of hope where they could get food, clothing, and security. It was hard for them. A Hmong village and an American suburb aren’t the same thing. As an American, you might say “better.” Well, it’s all in how you define it. One man, who is a sponsor, told me when he was a boy he went to school in one room with one teacher and when the bell rang, he went home. He did the same thing here--only to find out there were another 5 classes in different rooms with different teachers!
Now, these young people worship and see life very differently. Their parents have built their entire security around their children and a culture that the children find foreign despite attempts to teach and indoctrinate them. These children love their parents but don’t understand …

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When I was a kid, I wanted to help put the light bulbs in the sockets for the Christmas tree. My dad wouldn’t let me--afraid I’d kill myself. “What’s the big deal,” I thought. If the light bulb would light up just by getting screwed in the socket, would my finger light up? I waited till no one was around and performed the experiment. Oh, I lit up all right! I still haven’t forgotten what it felt like to get that jolt of current. I couldn’t see it, but electricity was present and active.
Monday, I got another jolt. I connected a group of churches in Tucson with Mark Harris pulling it together--with a very unique and isolated nation, someone from that nation, and with my nation building buddy, Ross Paterson. We all felt the current. All I did was plug everyone together--that’s it. Now, they’re all rockin’ and rollin’ and having a blast getting ready to do some serious damage in a very hard place.
Yesterday, I had lunch with a friend who has worked globally. He wants to plug in to us. Do we share the same values? Are we on the same page? If we do and he plugs in, we’ll go faster. If he doesn’t, and he plugs in, we’ll get a short in the line.
Today, I had lunch with a church planter named Mitch Jolly. He’s doing an awesome job in Rome, Georgia. His church has doubled in the last year and he’s also working in a wild and wooly place. He told me he heard me speak four years ago, and, for him, connecting the local and global had always been in him, just no way to merge the two--he just wanted to thank me. He didn’t need to, just seeing his church grow, do community work, work overseas, and now mentoring nine emerging church planters out of his church was enough.
This week, I’m working on my second book--lots of facts necessary for this one. Lots of stories are in it, as well. If I write it right and it plugs in as it should, current will flow and power will move things. I ought to be writing that instead of this!
God, help me connect where, who, what, when, and how You want. Sometimes, that’s all You want from us--just to …

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There is this idea that once a hero--only a hero--it’s just not true. I was with one of my heroes this last week. They walk like a hero--they look like a hero--they talk like a hero. You smell it all around them. There’s just something of nobility inside of them. You feel it, you see it, you sense it. This guy is just a cut above—a “big” cut above. While they are busy being heroes, life doesn’t take a break or cut them slack in areas we all face every day.
In the past ten years, this hero--who worshipped his dad--also buried his dad. He got to come home long enough to be near his side as he uttered his last words--but he still had to make all the arrangements and bury him--then say good-bye to his mom and head back to “hero land.”
In the past ten years, this hero watched his wife wrestle with issues related to her dad. He left her mom for something newer.  Ever see a woman watch that happen to her mom and fear it for herself? This hero had to be a husband and all that entails.
In the past ten years, this hero would say good-bye to his little children to head to “no-man’s land,” not knowing if he would come back. Did he say everything he should? Did he look at them long enough--knowing it may be his last look at them?
In the past ten years, this hero had a special needs child. Surely not our hero--he’s too busy with too many depending on him with too much at stake. Yes, our hero must now wrestle with doctors, prognosis, and a questionable future for his child—and, comfort his wife and explain to his children . . . and still go back and forth to “no-man’s land.”
You know, I don’t think “hero-land” made him a hero by what he did there, but he was a hero because of what he did with what life served him day-in and day-out. He made “hero-land.” He made it by consistency, faithfulness, and boldness that refused to give in to fearfulness. Walk tall hero--keep walkin’--runnin’ when you can. I believe in you and love watching you.

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