Jose Can You See...er Be Jesus?

I get a lot of press releases.

I don't get too many announcing the arrival of Jesus Christ.

I did get this one though...

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Subject: URGENT: GLOBAL MEDIA ADVISORY For Immediate Release: July 2, 2008 URGENT: MEDIA ADVISORY The man Christ Jesus arrives in Stafford, TX next week Everyone is talking about the arrival of the man Christ Jesus in Stafford, Texas on July 13th, 2008. Come and meet the man making news headlines in each country He visits, and listen to His message which confirms Him as the Second Coming of Christ. This LIVE broadcast will be transmitted to all nations through world renowned TELEGRACIA channel (telegracia.com), and webcast is tuned in by 103 countries through www.creciendoengracia.com <http://www.creciendoengracia.com/> . Find out more about Dr. Jose Luis De Jesus Miranda, the incarnation of God in a man, and see why global followers already acknowledge that it is not the year 2008, but rather Year 62 after JH (the Second Coming). WHEN: July 13th, 2008 WHERE: Stafford Civic Center - 1625 Staffordshire Rd. Stafford, TX TIME: 3:00pm (CDT) / 4:00pm (ET) WHAT: National Convention USA 2008 with the honorable presence of The man Christ Jesus, Dr. Jose Luis De Jesus Miranda Open to the public - Free Admission VIDEO: Watch promo video -

(Video inserted by me to save you a click...-MM)



CONFIRMED MEDIA: E! A True Hollywood Story (USA) * British Documentary (UK) * Vision TV (Canada)(( OH BOY! E!-mm)) MEDIA CONTACTS: Axel Poessy (248) 460-3844 pr@creciendoengracia.com # # # The Government of God on Earth Ministerio Internacional Creciendo en Gracia World Headquarters - 8000 NW 25 St. Miami, FL 33122 Tel: (305) 994-9194 Fax: (305) 994-9195 www.creciendoengracia.com <http://www.creciendoengracia.com/>


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This guy has gotten a lot of press already, but since he's coming to Texas I felt sort of obligated to pass along the press release from Jesus.

Oh...also if you don't know where Stafford is located, um...like me...here's a map



Not sure why Jesus chose Stafford, but I guess next week we can ask...

Thank God...or um...Jose.

Attacks Of The Heart

Obviously I'm not writing here much these days...

There are many reasons for that, but most recently it's been a matter of self-preservation.

We have borne witness to murder and the weapon was so deceitful and conniving that we were unaware of its very existence.

I'm sorry this is so cryptic. The folks who have emailed me out of concern know a bit more, but most details must be left unspoken, unwritten in any forum...for now.

That only makes it worse, but I am limited for our lives have been forever changed, our viewpoint has been corrupted, our hearts have been pierced and suddenly the world is grayer...darker...we have been robbed, vandalized, and something so dear to our faith and our future has been mortally wounded.

Suffice it to say Amy and I have suffered a crisis of faith.

Faith in people.

Our faith in God is unshaken, perhaps it has been made stronger...but the sacrifice required for that strengthened faith is an open wound. It will not heal. It may in time scar over, but the wound will remain and I fear at the time our faith should be strongest it will twitch...it will sting...it will cause us to doubt.

And we will remember, we will hesitate...and that's all it takes...doubt, fear, distrust...those are weapons now etched on our hearts. Hardened hearts...it's not listed as an official crime, but believe me causing such a thing would be ranked as a capital offense were I writing the laws.

The few folks who know us or who still read my occasional ramblings already know...what only days ago I staunchly defended, I now must renounce.

We are in mourning...for a ministry...a ministry murdered.


Over the past 4 or 5 years I can't count the number of people who have told/asked us:
a:) You're crazy
b:) Why would you 'take a risk' on people you don't know?
c:) Do you really believe God is calling you to this?
d:) You should focus on you and Amy, cloister yourselves...don't you realize the danger?

I could go on...and on.

My answers have always been the same.

We know the risks.
We have faith in God.
People who need us obviously have 'messy' lives, we don't expect life to be 'tidy' in trying to help them.
I understand 'the gift of suffering.'
I trust people until they give me a reason not to trust them, no matter their past we start fresh.
We don't care where they've been, we are only concerned with who they are, and how we might help them see who they can be.
We have felt a real calling, believe me it's not the first time I've doubted it, but God has reinforced that call to us over and over again... at our lowest points... that this is what He wants us to do.
No, we can't afford it.
We'll find a way.
God will provide.

All of those answers are still true....except now I've added another.

Someday God will explain this to us...for now we will pray and try not to become jaded by the evil we've witnessed and endured.


In recent weeks I honestly believe I have stared Satan in the face and not realized it. I'll be the first to admit that it turned our world upside down.

But our faith remains strong.

We have, we pray, banished evil from our home, forgiven what can't be forgotten, and imposed restrictions on our lives I never thought imaginable.

Our lives have been forever changed, and what's worse is that change now forbids us from opening our home to people in need...although we do have some folks staying with us now because of an emergency situation in their lives. Their stay has been outlined in ink and to a large degree they are here to protect us as well as get on their feet. Otherwise Amy says our ministry is on "furlough"...I fear it is dead.

There are guns in our home.

There are security systems...alarms and cameras and locks.

Worst of all, there is that seed of distrust in our hearts.

I have traveled the sewers of life of my own volition. I have sat across from killers separated only by thick wire mesh laden glass. I have heard screams of victims that would curdle your soul...but, right now...in our hearts... this is worse.

I can not bear to dwell in such dark places.

I do believe that God will shed light some day, but today...this day...I can not believe God expects me to put my family, my church, my company or our neighbors at risk.

Trust.

That was the weapon.

The story is sad...one day I'll be less cryptic. I won't write here very often for a while to come, but I felt it only fair to let those of you who I know pray for us often some details...obfuscated as they may be.

Please keep praying.

Then pray some more.

I'm hoping one day I'll be able to understand all this...be less fearful...remove so many of the new boundaries we've imposed on our lives.

Today is not that day.

Memorials, Memories, and More

I had a rather odd - at least considering the source - email last weekend from my immediate boss and longtime co-worker which read,"Please, write something about your 'Memorial day memories'...it's for a radio station web project."

That was it.

It was a little unsettling.

I mean I write all the time...writing wasn't the issue. The topic didn't scare me...even though it sounded like an assignment you'd give some high school English class. I'll also confess my first thought was, "You mean Sean Elliot's 1999 Western Conference finals shot? The 'Memorial day Miracle?"

Honestly, I remember that Memorial day pretty vividly, but I assumed despite the cryptic nature of the email that 'the web project' was meant to pay homage to the men and women who have and continue to serve and defend our freedoms.

I'm asked to write or help other people write all sorts of things in other aspects of my life, but what I write at work - at least usually - is determined not by vagaries but by facts. I mean, the parameters at work are usually more definitive.

"Memories" are subject to any number of variables, not the least of which is my ability to recall them.

I wasn't intimidated by the idea, but it was as my friend Gordon once wrote like my "world's were colliding."

I got over it, knowing if someone wanted me to have more precise direction I would have received it to begin with so this 'project' was likely a rather last minute thing, and whatever I submitted was not going to be judged too harshly or judged by anything more than word count.

In any case, I found some old photos which provoked good memories, and when I had some time at work I treated the assignment like I do this blog...I wrote whatever came to mind.

A portion of it is included below and the basic theme is the same I suppose but I reworked it into a form I preferred.

I feel compelled to write something about Memorial day, but I also would be remiss if I didn't write about something else that's very important...and I don't think I can tie them together in any plausible segue, so I'm only going to mention that following the little essay is some other news....in radio we call that a "tease."


"The world should know of those who give so much for liberty.
The dearest thing in all the world to a father and mother---their children."- Congressional Record 1917

My father was a member of what we now refer to as "The Greatest Generation" - a veteran of World War II - and like many such men, he never spoke of it, at least not to his sons. He wasn't a war hero, war wasn't something to tell "stories" about and I suppose he believed there were more important things to discuss with his sons because every day was precious.

"Combat" and "Hogan's Heroes" were on TV - it wasn't until many years later that war became a reality to me. Before then, it was a "game," albeit as the youngest of three boys I was rarely the victor in our make believe skirmishes.

Memorial Day Memories from those days were of parading and pretending and the only thing I have in common with them now is the same haircut. The pretending came to a sudden end for me in 1972 when I buried my father, and weeks later, my mother at a military cemetery and gazed upon what seemed to be a never ending sea of reality and sorrow.

Those days were "Memorial Day Memories" to me.

Heroes beneath dirt. The chapters of their lives condensed perhaps in long forgotten newspaper clippings or perhaps kept alive only by a few faint, but frail and failing memories. Some were already lost forever. The neatly organized non-ornate tombstones seemed to me to be a sad and somewhat pathetic attempt to somehow force uniformity on what was obviously an uncontrollable, uncomfortable and unavoidable truth...death.

Don't misinterpret me, there was an air of honor, of respect..but also a healthy dose of fear for a boy my age whose entire world had become uncertain. Especially since the rest of the world which I hadn't paid much attention to up to this point suddenly didn't appear to present much solid footing for wherever the heck I was headed next.

Remember it was 1972... there were an increasing number of bright white undeviating markers honoring men of service, but no matter how neatly arranged, uniformity failed to ease the feelings of loss...and of fear.

A lot of time has passed since then. I no longer fear death because I have come to understand that I will not always understand God's plan, but I have faith in it nonetheless.

Over the years, I have been to many military cemeteries to bury brave men and women, or to observe their burials.

Every one of those days is a "Memorial Day Memory" to me.


Our most recent next door neighbors are a family with three sons. I see the boys playing together all the time...they laugh, and "shoot hoops" and skateboard...but they don't "play war." I suspect not many kids do these days.
I'm sure they still enjoy parades and cookouts and family on Memorial day, but I also suspect they understand more about Memorial Day than I did at their age.
That's a hard thing.




However I'm not positive it's a "bad" thing.

I think we need more "Memorial Day Memories"...I think we should have them every day.



=======================

The other news? Yes, I made you read all of that to get to this...you should be thanking me, reading is good for your brain...mental aerobics as my father-in-law is known to say...

Oh the news! Sorry, forgot my train of thought.

As the prior post implied our youngest daughter Lisa graduated from Baylor last week - one day I'll see the humor in how that day went for me and likely write about it, but suffice it to say I'm still walking with the use of a cane and apparently will be for the foreseeable future - I can't wait to see the DVD of the actual graduation ceremony.

No, that's not the news, that's me whining.

I also made passing mention in that post that Lisa is "in love."

She's in love with a good man, Joel, who is apparently also a decisive man.

Lisa graduated. She and Joel started the frenzied process of rearranging their lives, preparing for grad school for Joel...Lisa seeking a position worthy of her degree and talent...and somewhere in that process Joel managed to do one other thing...


He asked Lisa to allow him to love her and make memories with her for the rest of their lives.





She told me about it over the phone and when I wailed and moaned about how quickly she had become a young woman of 23, she was ready. Without missing a beat she said, "Michael, when Mom was 23 she already had three children! Number three was me!"

I think it was then that I let her go, she had other folks to call...and I had to find my cane.


I'm so very happy for her and Joel, and so delighted in their joy...but I must admit, there are some memories for which I will never be adequately prepared.

Dancing at Lisa's wedding however is one I think I'll start preparing for in advance.

Obviously some are bigger than others, but I think memorable moments come every day like so many of God's blessings...some we miss, too many we take for granted.

I think I need to remember that more often.


"Do you have any idea how powerful God is? Have you ever heard of a teacher like him? Has anyone ever had to tell him what to do, or correct him, saying, 'You did that all wrong!'? Remember, then, to praise his workmanship, which is so often celebrated in song. Everybody sees it; nobody is too far away to see it."- Job 36:22 (MSG)

Daze Of Joy And Madness

It's been a long week...a long month or perhaps year, although this week the frenzy seems to have swallowed me. Of course the Spurs games starting so late (I had to cheer for the Lakers last night only because that means Monday's Spurs game will start at a decent hour) have wreaked havoc upon what little bit of a schedule I've tried to maintain. I'm not alone, most San Antonio residents are wobbling around somewhat like zombies who've taken too many rides on a roller coaster. I suppose I blend in.

There have been far more important things to deal with than the Spurs...yes, sometimes I have perspective.

Amy's Dad, Bernie, suffered what we now believe was very mild stroke. I swear Bernie will outlive me, he's far more energetic, his mind is sharper and were I to actually wager him on the prospects he'd likely stay "above room temperature" simply to prove a point. There's a slight (ahem) competitive streak which a number (read that all) of his descendants have inherited. Bernie's doing better, I'll see him in a month or so when he will bear witness to weddings of two of his grandsons...one of whom is my stepson.

Still the initial word sparked a great deal of worry and prayer...and some reflection.

This morning, Amy and I will drive up the road to Waco to see our youngest child, my step-daughter Lisa, graduate from Baylor. She's well on her way to becoming an Assistant Band Director, possibly for the high school from which she seemed to graduate only yesterday.



She's in love too.

Young, in love, a grown woman with a new world before her...and yet perhaps not often enough, I still see her as the little girl who giggled so much it made me giggle with delight.




Sadly, 90 or so miles north of Waco and only a few hours before Lisa walks the stage, my cousin, Michelle, will be laid to rest. I never really knew Michelle. She was a beauty and although I am only days older and we lived within miles of each other when I was a teen, her world was a different place than the one I inhabited. There's no judgment there, I didn't want to be part of the Dallas social scene, and it's a good bet Michelle didn't want to even be seen with the long-haired dreg I was at the time.

Still I remember a gorgeous young girl whose beauty obviously stayed with her.



She died at 50, missing out on something her sister tells me she was so looking forward to...seeing her 17 year old daughter graduate early from high school...a child I've never met.

So it was providential I suppose yesterday when Amy retrieved the mail and handed me the graduation announcement for my middle brother's daughter, Chelsea.




Yes, I'm struck by the resemblance too. I'm more struck by the realization that I don't know Chelsea as well as I should.

I plan to change that, and maybe get to know my cousin Michelle's daughter if I get the chance as well.

Life changes...sometimes too fast...but it's never too late to change with it.


He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever He does prospers. Psalm 1:3

It's Sad How Much I Enjoy This

Pull Of Life

I suppose I should post something here since that last post could leave folks a little depressed.

Life is good...we have some challenges, but we're confronting them and otherwise I'm really too busy for "leisure writing." Work...the Spurs...trying to start some new ventures...the Spurs...dealing with some car issues which I don't want to dwell upon except to pass along the advice that if you loan someone your car, and it blows up...I'd suggest you not let the same person choose "their mechanic friend" to "fix it."

One of our "Upper Room Ministry" guests, who has since disappeared, let his mechanic friends "work" on my car. After giving these friends several hundred dollars I finally found the remnants of the car and had it towed back home. Not sure if it's reparable but at least I have possession of it. Occasionally the chief "mechanic" on the team I refer to as "Drunk and Drunker" drops by and says he's working on it. I see an oil slick on my driveway. Amy swears she's actually seen him at least once working on the car.

One of our other upper room ministry guests is apparently here for the long haul. It's not like we could throw her out...not with a face like this.



That's Gabby...or Gypsy or Shiloh, depending on who is claiming ownership of her. It appears our steady and "stable" upper room guest "Scott" is going to keep her, which is probably the best thing for her. If not, I'm assuming she'll just become part of the household. She's only a few months old, and her heritage is subject to some debate.

I think her face looks like there's Irish Wolfhound in her, which may make me rethink my sanity (not something I need to do, believe me) but Scott think she's terrier, and maybe part lab. She doesn't seem to be growing too much, although the size of her feet do scare me a bit. This photo doesn't adequately show the paws size in relation to Gabby's body...but suffice it say, they are still a little large for her general stature.





As we wait to see how big she grows, she's providing a lot of entertainment for all of us, and in truth is probably the best behaved dog in the house. Winston and Avery have grown accustomed to her and she's learning how to deal with their possessive quirks...she outruns them.

She's also learning not to be intimidated, as demonstrated by the short quickly produced video below with which I'll leave you because...the Spurs are about to play.

Go Spurs!

Delivered

I wasn't in the best place, the why, when and where questions although germane are not critical. Suffice it to say I was drained. Physically I was sick, hacking with a lingering respiratory invasion, and my body already rebelling from spending several hours walking in an unplanned emotion- and anger-driven march. A steady drizzle added to my already clammy state. It wasn't enough rain for people driving by to think I was crazy for walking in it, but it was enough to add to my misery. As my legs sagged, my cough worsened and my mind struggled to recall the old comic strip with the character who had a perpetual rain cloud about his head...


It wasn't only physical, I was emotionally, financially and most importantly spiritually spent.

I had left home in the same dreary drizzle the night previous, on foot in a stew of self-pity, sleep deprivation and solitude seasoned with healthy doses of anger, self-loathing and occasional sprinkles of near suicidal thoughts. The time away did little to cheer my mood or comfort my fatigued body. My soul had thrown in the towel. I was trudging back home because I had no other place to go, and believe me I tried to think of one, but it was senseless. Unless I wanted to chuck it all, everything in my life, family, job, money, career and my future, I had to eventually get home.

It wasn't easy and as I limped past a car rental place my mind scurried with the scoundrels of escape. "Rent a car, max out a credit card and wherever you land...you start new." The whispers were real as was the temptation, but I don't run away, I may shove people away but I don't run from them.

Besides if anything my night away had proven it was that I was no better for it - probably worse. My feet were swelling, I was still feverish, and I was "ripe" having not even brought a change of clothes with me. I was ill prepared to go to Sonic much less "off the grid."

I had walked a couple of miles when I realized I couldn't make it the rest of the way. My legs were giving out, my lungs ached, my feet were begging for relief and clearly announcing that no option that provided such would be rejected, quite possibly including self-amputation.

I was a mess.

I was alone.

I'd been doing it too long, carrying too much, trying too hard, sleeping too little, eating too sporadically, and trying so hard to hold it all together. I was falling apart.

Worse yet, I'd become so accustomed to never asking for help from anyone that when I needed help I didn't know anyone to call.

Sure, I could call this guy or that guy about the only two people on earth who I truly know would drop everything if I called them these days, but they didn't need my burdens and it would take them longer to come get me than it would for me to tough it out and hoof it home.

So I sat...in the gutter. Actually more of a drainage ditch... a culvert I suppose. I was sitting on the edge but I might as well have been prostrate in the sludge below, I was feeling like crap anyway.


I was talking to God...or maybe just to myself or the wind, who knows? I wasn't sure any more which depressed me further. I couldn't go on like this, I wasn't sure I could even stand up and I didn't want to die on the side of a drainage ditch...I didn't...sometimes I had to repeat that to myself or to the wind or to God...maybe.

I hadn't seen Darnell for I don't know how long. He had been the postal carrier in our neighborhood for years and he and I would regularly talk. He was a devout Christian but had not always been so and we shared war stories of God's battles for our hearts. He was a regular part of my life, not deeply involved, we weren't "friends" so to speak, but we were constants in each other's lives. My schedule coincided with his route and more often than not if we didn't talk almost every day, we exchanged waves or honks of the car horn.

Then he was gone. I knew he was unhappy with some things at the Postal Service and I wondered if he had finally said, "I've done my time, I'll take my pension please."

I wouldn't be surprised were that to be the case. Weeks passed, then months and soon we had a new postal carrier who wasn't "new" any more. He'd been on the job for a year or more. He knows our names, I don't know his. He's not as outwardly friendly as Darnell. He's younger whereas Darnell is around my age although having a job where he actually gets to walk around a bit, go outdoors and be in the sun, he's in better shape, not that that's saying much. In any case, time hasn't left as many outward signs upon him as it has etched upon me.

Darnell was quite possibly the farthest thing from my mind that day.

I took a quick evaluation of my situation. I was dirty, tired, sweating and limping but I had to get up and get moving because by my calculations the odds seemed to be rapidly increasing with each passing minute that my obit would be headlined, "Road kill turns out to be remnants of human."


I was hacking and wiping sweat from my eyes when there it was making an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street...a mail truck. Seconds later Darnell was pulling up along side me saying, "Michael? You don't look well. You okay?"

I thought, "Dear God, I'm freakin' hallucinating, my fever must be through the roof."

Here I was at a point I had never been, a depth of despair and doubt I never foresaw myself falling toward and now Darnell reappears out of nowhere at this exact moment?

"Michael?? Are you okay? You really look sick and you're a little off course from your usual walking path."

It had been years since I walked the neighborhood every day and Darnell was certainly familiar with not only the neighborhood but my walking patterns...when I used to adhere to them.

"It's been a rough 24 hours...I don't have the strength to explain, but where did you come from? I haven't seen you in forever!" I rasped trying not to sound near as horrible as I felt.

"Wrestling demons." That was all he said, and it took me a while to realize he wasn't responding to my question.

He was tersely summing up my situation.


"Let me give you a ride home."

I looked at his postal vehicle, there was only one seat and he was in it...the rest of the truck was stuffed to the rafters with mail. I said, "Doesn't look like you really have room."

He then slid open one of the side doors and said, "There's room if you stand on the running board and are strong enough to hang on. It's illegal, and I could get fired, but hop on."

Seeing Darnell made me feel more alive and I knew there weren't going to be any other offers of a ride. Plus if I turned down this offer it wasn't inconceivable to me that somehow my feet might find a way to strangle me.

I stepped onto the running board, leaned back and gripped the door handle tightly. Seconds later we were zipping down the street.

We didn't share any more words except the admonishment from Darnell, "If anyone says they saw me doing this I'll deny it."

Within minutes he had brought me right to my front door. He didn't need to be reminded where I lived, and he didn't need to know why I was in a different "place" on this particular day. He just knew what he had to do.

"Get some rest," he said as I stepped down from the running board and thanked him while trying not to grimace as my feet reminded me that even the few steps to reach the front door weren't going to be easy. I couldn't imagine how I would have made it home on foot or how long it would have taken me.

"One day, I'll explain this to you Darnell, but believe me seeing you today is a major blessing."

"I'm glad I saw you, although 'officially' I was never here."


He closed the door and then drove away somewhat stealthily, like a gang member knowing he was on the wrong turf.

I stumbled into the house, directly into bed.

I whispered a few words to God, definitely God, before I fell into a deep sleep.

"Oh Lord, forgive me. I should never have let it get this far. I should have reached out to You more, rolled these burdens into Your waiting hands. You can have them now. I'm going to get the rest I need. I will get perspective back. I promise."

"Oh, and thank you Father for Darnell. Your message couldn't have been more clear had it been etched on stone tablets. I'm so grateful for Your grace... I'm so undeserving of it too.

Especially a special delivery."



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*This is a work of fiction lest anyone be confused, or the Postal Inspector go looking for Darnell.

I'm First in Line

Could there be a better way to start your day>?

Get up and get going...with the new Spazztroids hyper caffeinated cereal!

180 milligrams of caffeine per bowl!



Hey! I'd go for it...from Captain Crunch to Captain Buzz.


It's from the folks at ThinkGeek.

They do this every year.

On this day.

April 1st.

Caught on yet?

Whew...lil' slow on the uptake...you might could really use some Spazztroids...I'm just sayin'...


At least you didn't buy their beta-max to HD-DVD converter.









No joke...NCAA Men's Final Four Hotel rooms are still available!

Inside Stuff

I can't add anything to this...it's not allowed anymore.

But there was a time when "Radio News" was something you couldn't turn off.

(((Warning this is no longer politically correct))




P.S. Final Four Hotel Rooms Here!


Yeah, I have no shame....20/20 blogging :)

Final Four Madness

The final four tourney is about to descend on San Antonio which means I'm getting flooded with NCAA® 2008 Men's Tournament information. The big worry in San Antonio is whether the giant new convention center Hyatt hotel will be actually finished in time. They say it's ready, but you get the impression that if a few guests reach for the shower faucet and it comes off in their hands, no one will be shocked...except maybe the guest paying a gazillion dollars for the room.

(((Warning blatant plug coming)))


Of course, folks looking for last minute hotels for the Final Four® should realize that if they book a room in Universal City, Selma, Schertz, New Braunfels or any other nearby town, they'll still be 15 to 30 miles or less from the Alamodome and their hotel rates will be far less. Heck, you could even stay south of town in Lytle and then head for the coast after the games. Spring Break is in full swing, if that's your cup o' tea (although tea is not usually what's being served). Yes, there are plenty of available rooms for the Final Four. Just wanted to make sure anyone looking for a "last minute final four hotel" didn't think they'd missed out.

(((Blatant commercial plug now ending)))

Anyway, one interesting fact: They put down the "floor" for the games at the Alamodome yesterday. Did you know they only use wood from trees grown north of the 38th parallel for the court? It's true. Maybe I'll tell you why later, when I have time to post more insightful blatant plugs information.

In the interim:



This time lapsed video of the floor installation in Atlanta is sort of cool.