The Flog – The Fabry Log

I spoke on the air about the Cowboy Wedding we attended. What an experience. We feel very close to this family and what they've been through the past few years. Instead of focusing on the bride, I wanted to focus on Levi.

Here is a picture of Levi and me from August, 2010.


This was before his heart surgery, when the family had many questions about the future, about whether his little heart could heal, and what life would be like as they moved forward.

I think we're all like that on varying levels. We wonder what "normal" will be like. If there will be an empty chair at the table this time next year.

Levi's family does have an empty chair at their table now. Every night they're reminded of their loss.

But Levi's chair is not, thank God, empty. The empty chair is for  their oldest daughter, Iliana. She married Chance a week ago in an unforgettable ceremony.

At the service the groom and groomsmen made their way to the front. Then came a moment that took my breath away. No, not the beautiful bride, but a tall young man carrying a Bible. It was Levi.


God has a way of replacing the empty chairs of our lives. On Thanksgiving Day, Iliana returned with Chance for dinner.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise him for little hearts that grow.
Praise him for a family's love so rare.
Praise him for the need of an extra chair.

I've heard a lot sadness and fear since the election. One man emailed me and told me it was time to overthrow our government. I disagree. In fact, I think November 6th was a D-Day of sorts.

June 6, 1944. A pivotal point in the conflict of World War II. On D-Day, many soldiers exiting the landing craft were slaughtered. Pinned down on the beach by machine-gun fire from above, they scurried for cover. They were forced to adapt to the deadly conditions.

They could have given up. They could have run back to the water to try to find safety. Instead, they changed the plan. They figured out a way to move up the hills and take out the entrenched, fortified positions of the enemy. The Germans did not adapt, they stayed where they were, and were defeated.

I'm encouraged by that story today. I've seen Saving Private Ryan enough times to visualize a little of what they went through. Though they were afraid, they didn't give in to fear. They adapted. They changed their plan, their way of thinking of how the battle might be won.

November 6, 2012 was our opportunity to reconfigure. But I'm not talking politics. The enemy on the hill is not a Democrat or a Republican. The enemy is not your pro-choice or pro-gay marriage neighbor. Or the Affordable Care Act. Or President Obama. Or John Boehner. I may disagree about the policies and politics and morality of my neighbor, but they are not the enemy. And defeating "them," whoever "they" are, is not the point of this post.

When I say "you," "we," or "our" from here on, I mean the Church, the body of Christ. Followers of Jesus. And the battle is not against flesh and blood.

What we have in any life change (or non-change) is opportunity. But we can only seize that opportunity if we have the vision to adapt. And the adaptation is much bigger than businesses trying to figure out how to live in this economy, with these health care laws and the social and political realities of 2012.

The biggest adaptation, the very core of this reconfiguration, comes in my own heart. It is a spiritual one. Get this right and you can't lose. Get it wrong and you'll miss what God is trying to do in and through us.

You and I were put on the face of this planet at this time in history for a reason. And though I would love to see America embrace biblical values in every sphere, I ultimately don't have the power to make that happen. But I do have the power to choose something other than fear.

Peter, in a tumultuous political world, spoke to believers who were suffering under Nero. They were being persecuted. Peter encouraged them to live blameless lives. He encouraged them to live what they said they believed in the face of great opposition.

Do not fear what they fear or be disturbed, but honor the Messiah as Lord in your hearts.

This army moving forward will change the world by changing hearts. Find your place in that army and do your duty. Work at it with all your heart. Show the world what love looks like. Show the world what it looks like to have peace in the midst of a storm. Show the world what faith and hope can bring when it's placed in God.

Whether our economy flourishes wildly in the next four years or we go off a fiscal cliff, whether social changes restrict abortion or cause it to increase, whether marijuana or marriage laws swing in a way that dismays or encourages, allow this time, this current situation, to embolden you and focus your soul on the truth. And the truth is, we have some really good news for people who are perishing.

The Church, Christ's body, never loses an election. The church is victorious because Christ was and is victorious.

We don't serve a dead ideal, we serve a risen Savior.

So adapt. Allow God to reconfigure your heart. Don't give in to fear. And do this for the glory of God and his Kingdom.

As you adapt, stay involved. Pray for our president. Pray for our leaders. Pray for wisdom and discernment. Pray for the poor. Pray for the widow and the orphan. And as God leads you, roll up your sleeves and get to work in issues of justice and mercy. Pray that God will mobilize his people to adapt to his Kingdom principles so that whatever happens, people will see us living out what we believe.

Some will say this is giving up. That's the irony. When you adapt and reconfigure to God's Kingdom, you don't just survive. Something comes alive inside. You realize outside forces don't have the power to hold back the truth. When God penetrates the fear in your own heart, he will show you how to thrive through the power of Christ. And when we thrive, we begin to gain a vision of strongholds we couldn't see. We discover new battles on beachheads we didn't know existed. We help liberate others and provide a avenues to true freedom, something that can never be given by any human government.

This is what must motivate our lives. This is how real change happens. Allow God to reconfigure your heart. Then we can move up the hill together.

There I was, minding my own business, writing at 11:11 AM Pacific Time, when out my back window, what to my wandering eyes do I see...or is it wondering eyes? Oh well, whatever the wonder/wander, I saw this above the Rincon Mountain Range. It's flying over Tucson in honor of Gabby Giffords. Pretty cool way to end the morning.

Here's a picture that says it all. Brandon Phillips looking back at Teddy as he ran to the dugout. We talked about this on Chris Fabry Live. Have you ever seen anything as great as this?

Photo from The Enquirer/Jeff Swinger. To see the full set of pictures, click here.

Got up early to take Tebow outside. If I ever get the book completed that I'm working on, it will be because of his weak bladder.

Not a cloud in the sky. The moon was a crescent and above it some planet. Venus? I made the left to go to Tebow's favorite morning spot (he would kill me if he knew I was telling this) and in the sky I saw the strangest cloud I'd ever seen. It looked a lot like this:
I watched the cloud swirl and morph and with the rising sun, I thought I was watching some cosmic sign. Things have been tough the past couple of weeks. Could this be a message to my heart? And if so, what kind of message? I drew a picture of the cloud in my journal when I returned, in case I see that particular shape in the future and need a reminder.

Then I heard the news and looked it up online. From the Associated Press (which also published the photo above):

Message received. Keep working on what you're working on and others will do the same.

I was getting beat at chess by my 11 year old. My nightly humiliation. I always lose my rook in the right corner. And then he says, "You didn't see that?"

Two guys outside with the telltale binder and a flyer. Will you give? Will you support? I don't like to encourage this kind of thing, but when they said they were with Teen Challenge, I took the flyer. It's a good ministry.

Sigh. I didn't have much cash. I have less now because I told them to wait, went inside and came back out and filled out the little card and wished them well.

The younger one said, "Pardon me for asking, but your neighbor over on the other street said a famous Christian author lived here."

I laughed. Crazy neighbors. I told them to wait. A couple of days ago I received a few boxes of copies of my new novel, Borders of the Heart, set in Tucson. I handed them the copies and they thanked me. I shook their hands and bid them a good night.

I sat down on the couch. A handful of pawns left. My King and a horsie and a bishop.

The doorbell rang again.

"Sorry to bother you, but we wanted to see if you would autograph it."

Steve and Morgan were their names. I hope they like the story. I hope my small investment will pay dividends down the road.

Thirty years ago today I took a walk. A long walk. I was living in Mainz, Germany, home of Herr Gutenberg. I was on a summer missions trip, living with a Canadian family with four children. It seemed like a huge family. And I had made up my mind to walk. I think better when my legs are moving.

On the walk I made up my mind to ask a girl I knew to marry me. She was four years older than me, but I decided that really didn't matter.

I went to a little German jewelry shop and bought a gold heart and had him inscribe, "Ich Liebe Dich" on it. Maybe that was not on this walk, it was probably a later one, because it would have taken a lot of faith to believe she would say "yes" to me.

It was clear to me that day that I was to do this thing. I heard God telling me, "This is the one." The Proverb that morning, chapter 18, had a telling verse. "He who finds a wife finds a good thing..." I was sure. There was no doubt. The walk confirmed it. So I went back to the family's home, calculated the time difference, and called her at her parent's house in Columbus, Ohio. I knew she was visiting there because she had written a letter saying such. (For those who don't know, letters are things you write and send in the mail that take a long time to get to the other person.)

No one told me it's bad form to propose over the phone from Germany. I'm not proud of that decision, but I was 21. I knew very little about life. I did know I should talk with her father and ask his permission, which I eventually did. But why go through that talk with George if she said no, right? Looking back, it feels a little selfish, a little self-protected to propose over the phone. It's something a boy does, not a man. But admitting that shows I've grown a little. It is what it is.

The phone had a counter with numbers on it. I am not making this up. On local calls it moved at a snail's pace. On long distance it moved faster. An overseas call was like watching fruit on a slot machine. So I got up the nerve and dialed and watched the numbers click click click as I talked.

Even while proposing I was counting the cost. I just realized that. This money thing, spending anything, has haunted me my whole life. If funeral homes ever have casket sales, I will probably time my death to coincide. But I digress.

I can't remember what I said or how I said it. I think I wrote it down and told her I took a walk that day and made a decision. I also remember the butterflies and fear, but also the resolve. And I remember her laugh and surprise and, dare I say, joy when she heard the question. I like to think I got down on one knee, but I don't think I could see the counter on the phone from down there. In my heart I was kneeling.

And then I remember hearing her tell me she would think about it and call me back.

I am not making this up.

Seriously, she said she'd call me back. Which, now that I think about it, was a considerate thing since the numbers were churning so quickly.

I thought it was over. I figured I'd hear her say, "Well, this is very nice of you. I'm honored. Why don't we talk about it when you get back? When you're a little older?" I wondered what my mother would look like with an "I Love You" gold heart around her neck.


Then the phone rang.

She said yes. I'll be your wife.

July 18, 1982.

Thirty years ago today.

In the car, driving from point A to point B, I hit the radio scan button. It wound up on an oldies station. FM dial. Full bandwidth but crackling music. A flash from the past. Late 1960s? Early 1970s? I was 9 or 10 and not a hipster, but I still liked the song. I remembered this one but couldn't place the voice--was it Mama Cass?

But you've gotta make your own music
Sing your own special song,
Make your own kind of music even if nobody else sings along.

For some reason the lyrics hit me deeper than what may have been intended by the author. You can read those words and interpret them as, "Be yourself, man. Do your own thing. Whatever makes you feel groovy, do it and don't care about the people who drag you down. Man."

That kind of sentiment was prominent in the 1960s. The individual became king. This led to a lot of personal disasters that leaked onto others who were also enthroning themselves. Every man a king and no one a servant.

There's another interpretation that strikes me more than 40 years later. There's music inside each of us. Art and creativity waiting to emerge. Most of the time we're too afraid of what others will think. We play our songs to an unseen audience of critics and decide to play it safe and give them what they want--or perhaps we give them what we think they want so we'll get the desired response. In other words, we play to the applause or play to avoid the catcalls. We don't play authentically from the heart because we're afraid.

Living is risky. Loving is, too. The struggle is finding the unique song God gave you and singing it loud, confidently, no matter what the response. Maybe you'll have others singing along today. Or it might feel a little lonely. Everyone else has drums, a big band, and you're sitting alone with a kazoo.

Ultimately, the "make your own kind of music" mantra feels hollow to me. Maybe the reason I identified with it is the truth that left to our own devices, we're always going to make music that doesn't satisfy our souls. We can only take the tunes so far and wind up like Jackson Browne's Everyman, always searching, always feeling "a day away from where I want to be." There's a deeper, more meaningful kind of music/art we were created to make that can only come when I slip my trembling hand into the one who made me and put the music inside.

When you get to that point, not enthroning yourself but stepping off the throne in humility, the music you were created to make will bubble to the surface. And you'll be content with its reach no matter what the fans or critics say. You'll be content with God and a kazoo.

It's almost like your own father dying, seeing the news that Andy Griffith died today. I suppose that's because I confused Mayberry with my home town and thought my father was Andy Griffith when I was a child. See the comparison at the left and below.

The Andy Griffith Show began in 1960, the year before I was born. It ran until 1968 and I recall mixing up the man on the screen and the man who walked in the front door each day. They both were handsome, lanky, had striking voices, and walked with a confidence that came from some other place. As if the road had brought them and taught them something they wanted to pass along if you'd take the time to listen.

Andy settled most problems by being kind, generous, and thinking of others. At least on the TV show. This was another reason I confused him with my father. He seemed to be able to solve just about any problem with kindness and thoughtfulness.

My dad and Andy were only 6 years apart in age, wore their hair short, and had gentle hands.

When Barney wanted to sing in the choir, Andy helped the performance. When Aunt Bee was almost taken in by a suitor, Andy was there.

But the real draw of the show was Opie's relationship with Andy. When Opie killed the mama bird and his father sat on his bed and talked him through the guilt and shame, it was as if my own father were sitting there. At the end, when Opie had to release the birds, his father is the one who opened the window to wake him to the truth. At the end, when they're on the front porch, Andy and Opie are together in a scene that reverberates in my mind and heart.

Opie: Cage sure looks awful empty don't it, Paw?

Andy: Yes, son, it sure does. But don't the trees seem nice and full.

I'm guessing there were others like me who confused their dads with Andy Griffith. Or didn't have a loving father and found one in the TV version. Andy Griffith made me want to be a better man, a better dad. Not a bad career synopsis.

The world is a sadder place because of his passing. But somewhere the birds are singing. And the trees are nice and full. Probably right outside the window.

As heard on Chris Fabry Live! on Friday, 6/15--here is a good list of films for dads and families. Viewer discretion advised. Thanks to Bob Waliszewski of pluggedinonline.com for many on the list, as well as listeners!

Ben Hur
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
UP

Father-ish movies:

Courageous (fatherhood is a calling)
The Rookie (Morris as good dad, tensions with own father)
Finding Nemo (overprotectiveness, passionate pursuit of a prodigal)
Searching for Bobby Fischer (support vs. competitive pressure)
Fiddler on the Roof (traditional dad and three dating daughters)
Mr. Holland’s Opus (musical dad trying to connect with deaf son)
October Sky (not a model dad, but father-son issues are core)
Fiddler on the Roof
The Lion King
To Kill a Mockingbird
Life is Beautiful
Field of Dreams
Hoosiers
Father Goose
The Sound of Music
Superman 1978
Swiss Family Robinson
Father of the Bride
Faith Like Potatoes

Summer Movies for the Family (check age-appropriate ratings):

Akeelah and the Bee
Because of Wynn-Dixie
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
Charlotte’s Web
The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe
Dolphin Tale
How to Train Your Dragon
March of the Penguins
The Mighty Macs
Miss Potter
Nancy Drew
Nim’s Island
One Night with the King
Prince of Egypt
Sarah’s Choice
Secretariat
Soul Surfer
That Thing You Do
To Save a Life
The Ultimate Gift
War Horse
What If…