A Girl Named Duncan

My world changed forever on February 26, 1996 when this little blonde-headed, blue-eyed girl came into my life. She immediately stole my heart. We named her Duncan, after a missionary family who God used to impact me and many others in the world for Jesus. Yeah, I guess it's kind of a guy's name. We worried she might get some grief over it as she grew.


When she was little she loved tiny beautiful things: little flowers, rocks, shells, four-leaf-clovers (which she has always been able to find with ease).

Easter 2005

As she grew up, she was a walking paradox: tender yet tough, naïve yet clever, tomboy yet girly-girl, diligent and dedicated yet lazy and procrastinating, desiring to please yet sometimes a rascal. She was almost always happy but hated smiling when people watched.

I love her more than I knew I had the capacity to love, and more than words can express. Of course I could say the same about my love for Darla (in a different way), and for Drew and Dara. Drew will always be my only son and my firstborn. There's no comparison to that. Dara is my baby (she hates that moniker), we're a whole lot alike and we've always had a special relationship. But Duncan was my first daughter, and she's always been a daddy's girl.

Something happens to a dude when he has a daughter that is completely unexpected(it was for me, anyway). He sees the world differently. He gets softer and more emotional. He becomes much more protective. He falls in love again in a totally new way. Before Duncan was born, I remember wondering why men—strong men—would struggle and cry when they gave their daughters away on their wedding days. The moment I held Duncan in my arms—I was the first to hold her, by the way—I completely understood. And I dread that day.

Thirteen. Rough year for dad.

She's had more nicknames than both my other kids combined, including Punkin, Clover, Rascal, Dunky, DES, Nummy, and Princess. Honestly, I was scared to death when she turned 13 and entered the self-focused, boy-crazy, parents-are-dumb phase we call the "stupid stage" (which we all must pass through), and I was elated to watch her grow to stand strong for Jesus by age 16. In fact, of all my kids, I was more worried about how she'd turn out than the others!

She's a lot like her mother, and this is good. She loves making things look stylish, neat, and clean. She loves cooking and serving others. She has social grace and seems to know how to say just the right thing in all circumstances. She loves the beach. She is easy to be around and loves to make things fun, meaningful, memorable. She has great skin, tans easily, never stinks, and looks great in everything from sweats to swanky dresses. She'll study hard and make an A on a test only to forget everything she learned as soon as she turns it in. She has a sincere faith and is disciplined regarding reading her Bible and prayer. She's almost universally liked by others and is always trying to gently move people toward Jesus. You can count on her to do the right thing, even if she has to do it alone.


She's also got some of her dad's attributes. She's a bit of a daredevil. She's fight (as opposed to flight). She loves pondering theology and politics and loves to debate for the sake of determining truth (she's always been "my little theologian"). She loves classic cars—working on them, admiring them, driving them. She loves fishing and hunting. She's proud of her family and her name. She's passionate about missions (living up to her name). And she's not afraid to stand and speak the truth of the Bible in front of a crowd.

Oh, the stories I could tell.

She raised and saved money to go on a trip after her high school graduation. Not to the beach to party. She wanted to go to Indonesia, the country with the highest population of Muslims in the world and share Jesus. It was an incredible summer. God used her and grew her.

I could not be more proud.

I got to spend a weekend with the family around Easter. And the day afterward, I got to hang out with Duncan.

We went trout fishing at the Hiwassee. It was like a dream from which I did not want to awaken.

Duncan casting.

A beautiful river. Spring has begun.

She caught the only Brown Trout of the day and released it.
She really is a good fisherwoman. 

That's a stringer full. We caught 11 Rainbows
and Duncan caught a really nice Yellow Perch.
We turned the perch loose after this picture.

What's so good about Good Friday?

The Friday before Easter is what we call Good Friday. Twice today someone has asked me why it is called "Good" when it is the day we remember something as brutal as Christ's crucifixion. It just seems so, well, bad. I think all of my kids asked me the question at some point when they were younger, and I remember asking my mom the same thing when I was a kid. The answer she gave is about as good as it gets. It's what I told my kids and all who have asked me since:

Good Friday is the day Jesus--the only person who was truly good--died on the cross in our place, cleansing all our sin with his blood. Now when God looks at believers, he doesn't see sinners...he sees us as good!

That never left me. In fact, I think her simple explanation of the GOOD in Good Friday, helped me understand the Gospel as a child as much as just about anything else I can think of.

The historical/etymological answer isn't as easy. Here is a great article about that if you're interested. But my mom's answer reveals, at least to me, yet another evidence of God's providence--even in the "accidental" way we came to call it "Good Friday."

Blessings to all this Easter season! If you have not received Christ, you can be seen as good by God, too. Read 2 Corinthians 5:21 and Romans 10:9-10.


Rembrandt's Jesus on the Cross, painted 1631.

The Death, BURIAL, & Resurrection

Today is Good Friday. It is when Jesus died on the cross. The next big thing we celebrate is his resurrection on Easter, right?

I'm sorry to say that I've missed–or at least glossed-over–something really important.

Stan Giles is a friend who is a Chaplain for the Air Force. He and his wife attend Providence. He has been the pastor of several churches. I've found him to be witty, wise, and humble. As we approached Easter, he let us know that he had some thoughts on Christ's BURIAL. After hearing some of his thoughts, I wanted to have him share with us all on a Sunday morning but the schedule wouldn't allow. So I asked him to write a blog post. Graciously, he did. You will be glad if you read on...

Eternities’ Dirtiest Job
John 19:38-42

Many Americans enjoy the television show “World’s Dirtiest Jobs” by Mike Roe. He has made a career out of engaging with the many Americans who perform dirty, nasty albeit necessary jobs every day. I confess to enjoying it perhaps because it makes heroes out of ordinary people. This passage could be entitled “Eternities’ Dirtiest Job”.

First Corinthians 15:3 says that the gospel is the fact that Christ died, was buried, and rose again. In the context of this passage we see that the prior passage, 28-37, summarizes the death of our Lord. The following passage concerns resurrection, and so it is fitting that this one in the middle relates to the burial. We certainly teach and preach the crucifixion and resurrection, but what about the burial? It seems to get shorted in our preaching calendar and I confess I have done the same.

I suppose the story eludes our attention because it seems like an afterthought, an unnecessary encore as it were. However, this incident is mentioned by all four gospel writers!

It likely eludes us because of our squeamish relationship to death - it details the disposing of our Lord’s body. A distasteful duty. Yet our avoidance of this scene might be rather recent. I’ve noticed how many Renaissance paintings are devoted to this very scene.

We’re all intimately familiar with the context. The scene of death unfolds in a context of confusion and chaos. Understandably fearful of their lives, the disciples have fled; their world has unraveled and they have left the scene of the crime. The text leaves not question but that a crime has occurred – a crime against Divinity. Yet a very practical, pressing problem arises – there is this dead body. But there is no yellow tape, no CSI Jerusalem, no modern day bureaucracy that would delay the disposal of the corpse. If someone doesn’t take it, it doesn’t end up in a hospital morgue or the local funeral home; rather it ends up in the garbage dump to be burned.

Thinking quickly, and likely not completely sure of their course of action- two people step forward to take care of this dirty and distasteful job. One of them is Joseph of Arimathea. He was a member of the Sanhedrin, a position of power and it is safe to assume that he was a person of wealth. Luke 23:50 states that in his position of power he disagreed with the decision to execute Jesus but alas, we know how the story ends.

However, because of his influential position he had access to power and so doing what most others couldn’t do, he approached Pilate with a request – can I take the body? I’ve wondered just how this conversation took place. My guess is that with all the confusion and chaos it was likely one of those quick sidebar conversations as they were walking out of the room. “Hey Mr. Pilate, you know I voted against this conviction and I’m not happy with the decision, but can I at least recover the body? Do you mind?” Pilate, giving it no thought likely just grunted and shrugged his shoulders and likely said, “Sure” with a degree of incredulousness as to why anyone would want it.

Joseph, who is obviously thinking on his feet, begins working through the logistical matters at play. According to the gospels he was the one who donated his own prepared tomb for the burial and thus solved one serious logistical problem. Somewhere in the process he connected with his partner in this benevolent effort, Nicodemus. Verse 39 says that he provided the necessary embalming supplies.

I think it is fair to assume his next step was to get to the scene, and make sure that the soldiers didn’t inadvertently haul Jesus off along with the other two corpses to the dump. I’m sure the soldiers, upon hearing the news, were glad as that meant there was less work for them.

This is a plausible scenario of just what took place but to say the least, it was a dirty job! Our church history has presented us with antiseptic pictures of Jesus hanging on the cross, privately parts discreetly covered, looking like he needs little more than a large Band-Aid. But the body of our Lord was a literal, bloody mess. And what I find impressive is who steps forward to do the dirty work, God’s work I might add – Joseph. Joseph became the go-to guy when God needed a volunteer for a dirty job.

As a chaplain the Air Force I deployed twice and found myself traveling all over Iraq and engaging in some fruitful and, I might add, rather exciting ministry. It was the height of the insurgency and IEDs were going off routinely. Part of what I did was to serve in one of the two main hospitals. Now when I say ‘hospital’ imagine a series of tents, set up on concrete slabs and connected to one another by smaller tents. Primitive by most standards but serving in them were some incredibly devoted and skilled medical personnel.

Patients would show up by helicopter and be rolled into the emergency tent where a team of 7 or 8 specialists of some sort would descend upon them. No one had to tell you they were coming, you could hear it. Many of the patients were those critically injured soldiers, mostly by the now infamous IEDs which cause catastrophic damage to the body. As you can well imagine, it is a chaotic environment that is emotionally charged. And what doesn’t get into the news is how literally bloody the whole situation is. These explosions cause bleeding from all orifices and the blood cakes on the body and pools on the floor.

Late one night a badly injured soldier arrived and after a period of time, the lead physician paused and spoke the words no one wanted to hear. “This isn’t going to have a positive outcome.” That’s code for this “patient is going to die.” He was from a small town in Texas. I know people from his town.

At that I knelt down and held his hand, and whispered his name into his ear. I talked of our love, of God’s love, of his family’s love. Slowly they started to detach him from all the connectors and finally, moments later the physician pronounced him dead. At that point, as is customary, you gather the grieving and often upset medical personnel, hold hands, affirm them in what they did and offer a prayer for the soldier and his family.

By the time I was ready to leave it was the wee hours of the morning and I walked by a tent where two medical technicians had the body of this deceased soldier on a gurney and they were cleaning the body of this brave soldier - just like Joseph and Nicodemus did. With somber faces and a serious mood they were gently washing the body. They were using, not some large, rough wet washcloth, like we’d use on a 6-year-old after a church picnic. Rather they were using small, 4x inch pads of gauze soaked in alcohol. I remember their faces vividly. They worked as though they were artists cleaning a masterpiece. They handled this body with such care, and tenderness. I was touched and, as I paused for those few seconds I was, as I rarely am, speechless. I took a few more steps toward the exit and then it came to me in epiphany - like fashion and this passage creased my brain. I backed up and said to them, “You know of course, that you are doing the work of God!”

I don’t think I am stretching it too much when I use Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus are some of the heroes of the church. He did the job that people naturally shied away from – he cleaned up the body of Jesus. Not with latex gloves and gauze and alcohol, but with strips of linen and spices. It was still a dirty, messy, distasteful job. I might be stretching it a bit, but he sort of reminds me of the many people I have know in the church who have been willing to do whatever was necessary. In my mind Joseph is a model of service to our Lord. In some traditions, Joseph is venerated as a saint.

There are a lot of people in our churches doing the Joseph-like jobs -- jobs that demand sacrifice, the giving up of evenings and weekends. Jobs that get little or no appreciation. Furthermore I’ve discovered that ministering to Christ’s Body, the church, can sometimes itself be bloody and messy. Yet we do it because our Lord calls us to faithfulness.

Yet, at the risk of bursting Joseph’s balloon, I should point our verse 38. Apparently, Saint Joseph had feet of clay because he feared the Jews and kept his confession under wraps, as it were. Thus in some sense Joseph was a failure; he messed up. That denial was perhaps his skeleton in his closet, that moment of regret. Yet he is listed here as serving the literal body of Christ.

That should come as some comfort to you and me because it reminds us that we don’t have to be saints to serve in God’s kingdom. We don’t have to be perfect to do the will of God. God uses people, ordinary people, flawed people to minister to His body, to further his kingdom.

Pastors wish our churches were full of the near perfect servants but in practice we get a real mixture. Some people come into our midst with high skill levels but low commitment levels. Sometimes it is the other way around. Yet they, we all have a place in the kingdom. And when we do those, so to speak, ‘dirty’ jobs in the church; those jobs that folks just won’t volunteer for; the jobs that go begging because they involve children, sometimes diapers even, and commitment, those Joseph-like jobs, we are doing the Lord’s work!

Like Joseph you likely are a flawed person perhaps with some not so invisible skeletons in your closet. But don’t let that keep you from your service to our Lord. Dorothy Day made this observation. She said, “If we forbid hypocrites from serving in our churches, we won’t have anyone to serve!” Then she wirily added, “and we won’t have anyone to do the forbidding!”

In some sense none of us are qualified to do the work of the Lord, but like Joseph, we can still minister to the broken, bleeding, busted and bruised body of Christ – the church.

For all the talk about the church being the body of Christ and how we’re all important, many pastors don’t really believe that – they believe, we believe that we are more important. Part of that stems from our CEO approach to leadership that has dominated our churches for many decades. But with some seasoning I’ve come to believe the opposite because I’ve been blessed to be around many Josephs and I am convinced that some of the most important saints of God are doing the dirty work, the sometimes distasteful work, the work that few people notice, work like those two fine medical people were doing.

All of us have flaws. You have flaws, but don’t let that keep you from doing God’s work at wherever you were called.

Looking back over my years of ministry I can cringe with embarrassment over some things I did, and certainly some things I said. But as I’ve often said in my later years, if you can’t look back on your life and identify some sinful and/or stupid things you’ve said or done – then you likely haven’t grown much. By that definition, I have grown a lot.

When I want inspiration for my life I revisit imagines of Jerry Deuy, a faithful servant of God who loved and worked with high school kids even though his were long gone. I think of my friend Beth Lousse in an Awana uniform on Wednesday nights working with children. I remember Ruth McGinty visiting some shut-ins.

The burial of Jesus, so easily overlooked, should remind us that our bodies are very important and deserve to be cherished. At the social level it should remind us that someone has to do the dirty work! Perhaps it should be us? Perhaps we ought not to assume that “someone else will do it!” Finally, at the spiritual level, this story should remind us that one doesn’t have to be perfect to be used in God’s kingdom. Joseph and Nicodemus were not perfect saints, but they were faithful.

May God use us to be of service in His kingdom.

I told you that you would be glad you read on! Please comment below, or if you want, you can reach Stan at stanley.giles@ang.af.mil.

Easter is for Losers.

Some dude commenting on a MySpace page said, "Easter is for losers." I winced at first. But then I thought about it. The resurrection of Jesus from death was indeed, in a sense, for losers! Take John's eyewitness account for example. The first four people or groups of people mentioned are, at least from my perspective, losers. Click HERE to read it for yourself.

Think of the first people John mentions Jesus came to after he resurrected:

A woman with a broken past.
Mary was the first to see the resurrected Jesus. A woman! That was a big deal for that patriarchical culture in the first century. Jesus really was the first and greatest liberator of women. But there’s more. Mary had a troubled past. A lot has been said about Mary Magdalene of late, mostly fictional (e.g. Lost Tomb of Jesus and DaVinci Code--see Bible.org/bock for more). Who was the real Mary? Click HERE to read it for yourself in Luke 8.

Mary had been inflicted by something really bad—demonic possession. That means she was a mess and an outcast. Jesus had healed her and from then on she was an active supporter of Jesus and the Disciples—freeing them to do ministry by helping provide money, food, etc. It was not common for a Jewish Rabbi to let women be a part of his inner circle, especially one with such a sordid past.

Ever felt like you were not good enough? Too far gone—too messed up? It’s not the well who need the doctor. Jesus resurrected and appeared to Mary first, perhaps in part so that people like Mary might know that he cares and wants to use them.

Who was the second person (or group of people in this case) that he revealed himself to?
A scared bunch of disciples.
The first word that comes to my mind when I think of the disciples' actions after Jesus' betrayal is "cowardly." Peter, the bravest of them all who had just committed to die with Jesus and even pulled a sword in the garden… denied Jesus! Once to a little girl! These guys scattered and were unheard of until news of Jesus’ resurrection. They had forgotten everything he had said multiple times about him being killed and coming back in three days. On the day Jesus fulfilled his own words, we see Peter and the rest cowering in a locked room.

Ever been scared? Ever chickened out? Ever failed to be the kind of person you said you would be? Ever thought about just quitting? Jesus made it a point to come to the disciples to give them courage and restore them and help them settle down. The word he kept saying to them was, "Peace."

And the third person to whom Jesus revealed himself?
A doubting skeptic.
I love Thomas. He’s no fool. He’s street wise. I bet he had a big brother or something--maybe he got burned before when he was younger and was always on his guard. He’s got to see things with his own eyes. When he hears this stuff about Jesus being alive, he’s thinking, “Everybody’s let the stress get to them—they’ve lost their minds. Or worse, they're trying to salvage something from this disaster.” Then Jesus shows up. Thomas does a 180.

Ever doubted this Jesus stuff? Maybe you’re doubting now. Stuff like this “Lost Tomb” theory either throws you for a loop or feeds your own previous conclusion that this Jesus stuff is all false. Jesus wants you to know the same truth for which he revealed himself to show Thomas. He is God. He will be found by those who seek him honestly with all your heart.

There is one more person John says Jesus wanted to show himself to. You have to look a little harder to see who I'm refering to. You can read it again HERE.

That person is...
You.

I don't know about you, but I'm totally aware that I'm a loser. I've been failing since before I was old enough to say my first word. I was born a loser. Lost. So were you. If you don't think so, Jesus' message isn't for you. He said, "in order to save your life you must lose it."

So this year, I'm celebrating the fact that Jesus’ resurrection is for all of us losers!