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Looking Like Carl

December 15, 2025

“ And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” (2 Corinthians 3:18)

The Youth Sunday School Class I teach told me that I look like Carl Fredricksen from the movie “Up.” They even found a picture on the internet and displayed it on the screen in our classroom…with me standing beside a backgrounded Carl. Unfortunately, there was a resemblance. I’m a few years away from(hopefully) being a full-fledged member of the Carl Club, but he is leaking into me.

Most of us are hopeful that we resemble someone who is nice, or at least good-looking. A good friend of mine was compared to supervillain Gru from the “Despicable Me” film series. Funny how both of us have been compared to animated characters.

My hope is that, despite my similarities to Carl, minus the walking stick, I am resembling Jesus a little more each day, as opposed to being villainous and despicable. It’s a daily…no, I mean an ongoing moment-by-moment possibility. The closer I stay to Jesus the more I understand His mercy, compassion, forgiveness, and grace. When I talk about needing peace of mind, I need only to look in His direction and have a chat with Him about my troubled soul.

Our culture’s understanding of transformation is more instantaneous. You weren’t, and now you are. You didn’t have it, and now you do. My hunger was transformed in a few moments by the super-sized McDonald’s meal; and then shortly after that, my appeased appetite would be transformed into indigestion. Transformation is understood differently in the physical world.

In the spiritual world, it’s a journey, more like slowly turning a giant freighter in the midst of the vast sea. It’s a daily prayer of repentance and hope, thankfulness and praise.

I am thankful for others who have been on this journey before me and whom I can look to as reflections of Jesus. My dad was one of those. Some say I am a physical recreation of him. He was the Deacon Emeritus of his church, a man wise and grounded, kind and friendly, a listener and a doer. In his last couple of years of life, he had what was called a “hurry-cane,” like Carl’s, but he was never in a hurry when there was someone who needed a word of encouragement or redirection.

I may look like Carl Fredricksen, but I hope I reflect Laurence Wolfe.

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Slip Ons

December 11, 2025


“Diligent hands will rule, but laziness ends in forced labor.” (Proverbs 12:24)

I bought a pair of shoes that are “slip-ons.” They sit on the floor of my closet, and I effortlessly slide my feet into them. I’m not sure how I feel about it. There’s a slither of guilt as I slip into the slippers. Is it a sign of my laziness? As Proverbs hints, am I one of those slackers that thinks work is a four-letter word? Oh, that’s right. It is.

What are the limits of convenience? I have visions of Rosie the Robot from The Jetsons, running around and making life easy for George and company.

Slip-ons are nice. I don’t grunt when I slide into them. When I revert to a pair of shoes that have shoelaces that need to be tied, I grunt as I lean over to tie the knot. I never used to grunt like a pig when grabbing the laces, but it’s now come to that. Unfortunately, I don’t have slip-on socks, so Porky is still making sounds.

Which prompts the question? What’s the next invention that will lean me even more into being incapable of labor? A car that drives itself? (Oh, I guess technology is ahead of the game already on that one!) A business that allows me to order up a meal without having to cook it, and have it delivered to my residence? (Oh! I’m way behind on that one!) A buttoned-down shirt that doesn’t need to be buttoned, but just slides on (even over my mid-section)?

I know, I know, convenience has saturated my life for a long, long time. I’m now having a hard time even remembering the pre-microwave oven days, or the days when someone had to actually get out of their chair and walk to the TV to change the channel. In the distant memories of my mind are the days before my grandparents had indoor plumbing. (Yes, they had an outhouse…complete with spiders and other creepy things)

The bible seems to promote a work ethic that has now been redefined. When work ethic is discussed, it is usually equated with getting things done, rather than slouching in the recliner with a beer and a bag of chips close at hand.

Students with a solid work ethic are usually organized and complete their assignments on time… and well. True confession! I was a procrastinator who completed assignments at the last minute. In recent times (Maybe it’s a COVID thing), students don’t even do the assignments. Sloth has settled into the classroom.

Of course, our churches have “slip-ins.” They are people who slip in and slip out, like cars in a McDonald’s drive-thru. Slip in to get a nugget of spiritual direction and slip out to resume the other 99% of life. That is, unless there is a crisis that needs more than a moment. That sounds like a variation of laziness that results in “forced labor.” Forced labor being defined as “having to deal with what has been ignored.”

Back to my “slip-ons.” One remedy is to hide them in the closet and return to my days of grunting and bending over in discomfort. Or, maybe a better solution is to balance my convenience with another way of service and help, like emptying the dishwasher, shoveling the snow in the driveway of one of our neighbors up the street who is dealing with cancer, making myself available to help at school, or inviting the neighborhood to our house for hot chocolate, cookies, queso, and chips on a Sunday afternoon. (Actually, Carol orchestrated that last suggestion this past February, and 20 of our neighbors came and stayed…and stayed…and stayed, almost like they were cherishing the moments)

Every time I slip on my slip-ons, it is now a reminder that my life is filled…okay blessed with an easiness. I’m reminding myself that the easiness is also a path that frees me up to do harder things.

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Alan

October 22, 2025

“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” (Proverbs 27:17)

As I flip through the chapters of my life, I have become ever increasingly grateful for the men with whom I’ve crossed paths. Not that there haven’t been some incredible women who have influenced me as well. After all, I am married to one of them.

Sometimes the male figures have joined me on my journey for a short time, while other guys have been along for the ride so much it’s like we’re grizzled cowboys sitting around the nightly campfire together. Short-timers and long-rangers have both been instrumental in my personal and spiritual development.

A recent “cowpoke”, so to speak, is an older fella’ named Alan, who sits at the same Starbucks counter as I do. Alan is nearing eighty, drinks his coffee from an actual Starbucks mug (just like my parents did…minus the Starbucks label), and shares the same faith view of life as I do. We talk about chess, our health status, the latest class that he is auditing at the local university, and life. Our lives can not be separated from our faith.

Alan reads my blog and, no doubt, will be slightly embarrassed that he is the prime focus of this one, but it’s true. My life is a little better because of our early morning chats. He tells me about books that he has read, or is reading. John Mark Comer is one of his favorites, while I lean towards Philip Yancey.

Alan shares simple wisdom with me, not wisdom that requires a theological surgeon to decipher. Our wives have the same first name and he hails from my neck of the woods. As we talk, questions arise about the confusing situations of life and how we sometimes have learned what’s paramount in importance by walking through the fires.

We don’t go to the same church, eat at the same restaurants, or drive vehicles of similar models. In fact, I always know he’s at Starbucks by the fact that his anciet Jeep Cherokee is backed into a space. At 5:30 in the morning, it stands out in the midst of the near-empty lot. He’s absorbed in his reading, often his bible close at hand, and unaware of my entry until I say, “Good morning, Alan!” Sometimes he’s in mid-swig as I say it, but at 5:30 he’s usually ready for a refill.

In return, he greets me as I walk the ten more feet to the other end of the counter and deposit my backpack. After I get my Yeti mug of the Pike Place brew, he strolls down to my position, white mug in hand, and we update each other on the goings-on of yesterday and the hopes of the day we have begun.

In some ways, we walk another day together, two brothers privileged to have come together in a most unlikely place, simply because we like coffee.

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Losing Those You Haven’t Seen

February 9, 2024

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” (Proverbs 17:17)

Another high school friend of mine, Jeff Grubb, died this week. We went to the same church, were in the same youth group, went to Giiovanni’s Pizza after Sunday night church, and razzed one another in ways that made us roar with laughter. Good guy! Funny, smart, and a friend.

The last time I saw him was probably in the late 70s.

I throw that in there because it’s part of the struggle and, unfortunately, the reality. As our lives get launched, we lose touch with most of the people that we grew up with, people that chiseled briefly into the sculpture of our life. Growing up in Ohio, but then going to college and seminary in Illinois, and then taking my first three ministry positions in Michigan before finishing in Colorado…the distance from my growing up roots always seemed to get greater instead of less.

Jeff is the third person who was a part of our youth group who has been called Home to Glory in the past year. It’s that stretch of our journey where the road becomes less and less populated with our traveling companions.

My dad had that experience. Living to be just shy of ninety, all of his close friends had preceded him in death. His last couple of years were a lonely stretch of road.

In less than three months, there will be a seven in front of my age. The number ‘7’ seems to be looking behind itself at all of the country it has already traveled. Most of the road is behind it, and there aren’t too many miles in front of it before reaching the exit ramp.

At 70, a person realizes, if he’s clueless enough not to grasp it already, that the important things in life have nothing to do with Las Vegas, soap operas, who the Bengals are going to draft first, or how upper-class the make and model of his car is. Those are irrelevant, the fluff of an ungrounded life.

The important things in life are rooted in relationships. Spiritual, emotional, intellectual, loving, and entwined relationships. Even the relationships with people you haven’t seen in 45 years are priceless.

Quite frankly, that category of long, lost friends is over-crowded. Facebook and other forms of social media have brought many of them back to us in a weird, sorta authentic, but superficial way. We’re able to see what’s going on in many of their lives, pictures of proms, parades, and promotions, but it’s different. Kinda like getting a postcard from the Grand Canyon. It’s different than actually seeing the place with your own eyes. Seeing a post from an old friend on Facebook is not the same as sitting in Giovanni’s and razzing one another on a Sunday night.

It causes an ache in my soul to know of the loss of someone who used to be on our church bus and it also makes me treasure what has been.

That being said, my journey this week to Ohio to see my sister, brother, nieces, nephews, and their extended families will end with a reunion at Skyline Chili in Cincinnati with two men who were a part of my college days period. I saw one of them about three years ago, but I have not seen the other one since 1974. Before I get on a plane heading back to Colorado, I’ll spend a couple of precious hours with them, reminiscing about the times we spent together and feeding the aching hunger in my soul for the old days and old friends.

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My Book Life

January 24, 2024

Ginny Heslinga wrote an encouraging text to me about the 3 books of my RED HOT: NEW LIFE IN FLEMING novel series. At the end of her message, she asked me if I would consider doing a book about a girls’ basketball team. Book 4 in the RED HOT series has been written (FLEMING HOPE) and is in the midst of being revised and edited, but Ginny’s question got me thinking.

So, what if I wrote a book about a pastor retiring from ministry and looking for something to do with all of his freed-up time…so he decides to start substitute teaching at a middle school…and in the midst of that new world he’s experiencing, the school needs someone to coach the girls’ basketball team?

Throw in a few plot twists and interesting characters, come up with an unexpected climax, and there you go.

Oh, wait a minute! That sounds a lot like my life story. Thirty-six and a half years as a pastor, and then substitute teaching for the last few years, and coaching basketball (although I have been coaching for 30 years).

The hard question! Would the framework of my life story be strong enough to be the basis for a fictional novel? Would it be compelling enough for people to want to read? Or would it be just one of a number of novels that can be a cure for insomnia and end up in the neighborhood’s Little Library?

Does my life have enough purpose and impact that it can be a novel? Those are difficult questions to ask for each one of us. Many of us live lives that resemble a slow dance to a ho-hum monotone melody. There is a lack of energy, direction, and passion. We go aimlessly from one day to another, looking for something that we’re not sure is going to be there because we’re not sure what that “something” is.

What a challenge to write a fictional story that has more than a hint of an auto-biographical feel to it.

And because I just finished coaching our middle school’s seventh-grade girls basketball team in their last game yesterday, I have a ton of writing material. For example, when one of my players tried to help out our opponents by shooting on their basket…in the fourth quarter of a tie game! Thankfully, she missed the layup! Or when a player considered the line on the side of the court to simply be a suggestion and decided to dribble around the defender and then back onto the court. I think she thought she was allowed to go out of bounds, but the defense had to play inside the lines.

Yes, it brings back that old saying, “Truth is stranger than fiction!”

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The Relevancy of Libraries

August 28, 2017

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                           August 28, 2017

                                  

I remember the library in Ironton, Ohio. Its familiarity was due to the fact that it was right next door to the First Baptist Church of Ironton, the church that ordained me! That was about as close as I got to discovering the library back in those days. It was a place of books, shelves, and cranky librarians.

Sad as it is, I can not even remember where the library was located in my old high school. Yes, I realize that was forty-five years ago, but you would think I could recall its approximate location. It was not crucial, however, to the attainment of my 2.5 grade point average! Conversely, at the school where I substitute teach and coach now the LMC (Library Media Center) is the activity hub of the school.

In recent times I’ve actually discovered the INSIDE of the library that is about two miles from our house. It is wonderful! It’s a place of books, computers, DVD’s, magazines, lectures, displays, and…librarians who smile!

There is growing debate about the relevancy of the public library. Its naysayers promote the value of the internet as now being the ultimate source of knowledge, immediate access to information, and available anywhere. As is often the case their viewpoint is as one-sided as a political party position. There is merit in what they say, without a doubt, and yet there is also a naiveness bundled with it.

I’ll go to our public library tonight to spend a couple of hours in quiet and contemplation. I recently finished the first draft of a book I had been writing. Most of the book was written from a quiet area on the first floor of the library. Being surrounded by books and other people’s creativity prompted the igniting of words in my own mind.

Last Saturday I picked up a DVD from the library that we watched with our three grandkids that night.

Last week I gazed upon the display shelves of about a hundred different magazines. To see them side by side, and to read the titles of articles, was an intriguing experience.

Libraries are depositories of ideas, thoughts, and stories. They are my refuge from the noise of life. I am a lover of history, biographies, and mysteries. I’m currently reading a book about presidential campaigns by John Dickerson entitled Whistlestops; and a Greg Iles mystery Blood Memory. Before these books I read Alan Taylor’s American Revolutions, John Sanford’s Golden Prey, Kristin Hannah’s The Nightingale, and Glen Jeansonne’s Herbert Hoover: A Life. All of them I could have ordered from Amazon, but all of them I checked out from the public library.

The demise of the public library will come, not so much because of the internet, but because less people see the value in reading. We have been “Tweeterized” in our reading focus. Although reading is stressed and emphasized so much in school, adults seem to have evolved into 140 character beings. They have slumped into the non-commitment of being couch potatoes. Let’s pray that downward trend in reading  shifts back the other way because there is enough ignorance being shown in opinions right now even with the presence of libraries. To have them become a thing of the past will open the floodgates for people to say even more stupid things…and even more people to take the stupid things as being truth!

Categories: children, Community, Freedom, Nation, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
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The Problem With A Pastor’s Library

December 28, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                 December 28, 2015

                                   

Retirement for a pastor means a lot of things…some good and some bad. One of the bad things is that I have to move everything out of my office at church and bring it home.

That’s where the problem starts!

My personal library is in excess of a thousand books. The bookshelves in my study at home were packed out…before I brought books from the office! Now the floor of my study is featuring towers. It looks like multiple games of “Book Jenga” are being played! How high can I build the tower, and now can I take out that copy of Church Dogmatics; Volume 1.1 located two-thirds of the way down the tower without toppling the whole thing? Challenges and problem-solving!

My wife Carol’s frequently asked question is not “Is this all you’ve got?” Flip to the opposite side of that question and you would be accurate.

“You aren’t going to keep all these books are you?”

“Ahhh…no,” I  say weakly and without conviction.

I feel like a pastor whose cat has just had a litter of kittens, and now I must find good homes for Pannenberg, Barth, and Kung. The problem is that there are very few people who are interested in Latourette’s two-volume A History of Christianity. It resembles a Saint Bernard in size and effort. I have even less potential homes for Torbet’s A History of The Baptists. there are an abundance of people who wonder about Baptists, but very few who are interested in them.

I accomplished a little bit of clearance Saturday night when I removed four books from one of the towers…and snuck them to the basement…just in case I need one of them.

The mindset of a book addict is like that. I may not have even dusted a book for three decades and yet I still think we might use it next week. That’s how my brain works.

So now my home study is being considered for an episode of Extreme Hoarders. As I stand by in obvious mental and emotional anguish Rudolf Bultmann’s Jesus Christ and Mythology is carted out. Leonard Sweet’s books are in the process of being carefully removed when I scream “Can’t you leave me at least one?”

Pathetic!

I am, however, getting better. I moved all of my Chicken Soup… books out last week. They are hiding behind the stack of jigsaw puzzle boxes in the basement…just in case I might need them!

Categories: Bible, Christianity, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
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