Sleepless Ramblings....

It's 5am on Christmas Eve, and I have yet to sleep a wink. I'm sick, but I don't have time to be sick. My body is just responding the frantic pace that I have been running at for the last month. I woke up yesterday with a bit of a cold and a sore throat from post-nasal drip, which was completely exasperated by leading the hymns at church this Sunday. Now I am sitting on my parents couch writing my farewell sermon for New Life, (actually blogging about writing my farewell sermon). My throat is raw, my head is pounding, and I am so tired that I cannot sleep.

I have so many things going through my head right now. I have so much packing left to do before Thursday when we load the truck, but I won't be going home until Wednesday. I can't stop thinking about all the things I have to do at the new house before Marianne and the boys arrive. And I just saw a coming out Christmas card from my cousin Liz and her girlfriend Mandy. I'm surprised, but not all that surprised. I love her and I hope she knows it.

My boys just woke up and they think it's Christmas, and they're so excited, but it's not and now I have to break it to them. But it made my morning to see their excitement and joy. I love Christmas, probably because I love Christ.

Merry Christmas everyone.

This is my personality....I'm so surprised

"Where's Joelo?"

Sorta like "Where's Waldo?"

This is a mosaic from an Newspaper ad that ran in Iowa just before the Iowa straw poll. The pictures which make up the ad are of ardent Ron Paul supporters. Can you find me? (Hint: In my picture I'm holding up a Large Mouth Bass...LOL...what did you expect?)

Here's a link:

http://ronpaulmosaic.com/ad/ames_ad_ron_paul_140dpi.jpg

Spurgeon got it....

“A Welsh minister who was preaching last Sabbath at the chapel of my dear brother, Jonathan George, was saying, that Christ was the sum and substance of the gospel, and he broke out into this story:—A young man had been preaching in the presence of a venerable divine, and after he had done he went to the old minister, and said, "What do you think of my sermon?" "A very poor sermon indeed," said he. "A poor sermon?" said the young man, "it took me a long time to study it." "Ay, no doubt of it." "Why, did you not think my explanation of the text a very good one?" "Oh, yes," said the old preacher, "very good indeed." "Well, then, why do you say it is a poor sermon? Didn't you think the metaphors were appropriate and the arguments conclusive?" "Yes, they were very good as far as that goes, but still it was a very poor sermon." "Will you tell me why you think it a poor sermon?" "Because," said he, "there was no Christ in it." "Well," said the young man, "Christ was not in the text; we are not to be preaching Christ always, we must preach what is in the text." So the old man said, "Don't you know young man that from every town, and every village, and every little hamlet in England, wherever it may be, there is a road to London?" "Yes," said the young man. "Ah!" said the old divine "and so form every text in Scripture, there is a road to the metropolis of the Scriptures, that is Christ. And my dear brother, your business in when you get to a text, to say, 'Now what is the road to Christ?' and then preach a sermon, running along the road towards the great metropolis—Christ. And," said he, "I have never yet found a text that had not got a road to Christ in it, and if I ever do find one that has not a road to Christ in it, I will make one; I will go over hedge and ditch but I would get at my Master, for the sermon cannot do any good unless there is a savour of Christ in it." Now since you say amen to that, and declare that what you want to hear is Jesus Christ, the text is proved—"Unto you therefore which believe he is precious."

(From “Christ Precious to Believers” - a Sermon (No. 242) Delivered on Sabbath Morning, March 13th, 1859, by the REV. C. H. Spurgeon at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.)

My stress reliever.....

At our last men's home fellowship I was talking with some guys about what we do in our free time to relieve stress. Bass fishing is my stress reliever. It's just good quiet time to reflect on life and liberty and to enjoy Our Father's world.

And since Castaic Lagoon is only about a half hour away that is my usual spot. It's a tough lake, but it is open 24 hrs so I can fish even after the boys go to sleep. So I usually end up there at least once a week. Here are some recent pics for those of you who were interested. I take pictures because I never keep the fish. I practice catch and release with bass. I want to be able to catch them again another day. Some recent pics all in the 3-4 lb range.

Ron Paul 2008 ~ For the Love of Liberty

A good overview of what distinguishes Statesman/ Congressman Ron Paul from the rest of the pack.

Lovin' Life at the Lagoon...

Okay, it's another fishing post. But that is what Blogging is all about right? Things that you love. Well, I love my boys and I love fishing, and I really love fishing with my boys. And this was a special trip because it was Ben's first trip out, and we could not have picked a more perfect evening.

It all started this afternoon when I decided it would be a good evening to take them up the the lagoon. So I went by Sports Chalet to pick up some mealworms thinking that we might hit some bluegill. Unfortunately when we got to the lagoon I realized that the mealworms were dead. So we were left to fish for trout.

Fortunately, our friend Tony was at the lake and had been slaying trout for the last hour. He let us know that they had just stocked and that the trout hadn't really spread out through the lake yet. Well, I put on a gold Kastmaster and the hit was on. The boys caught 10 trout between the two of them. I allowed them to keep 3 each for dinner tomorrow night, the rest we left to catch another day (or to be food for the Bass that daddy will catch another day).

The best part of course is just watching their faces as they are reeling them in. Ben caught the first one and was so excited. (Above is a picture of Ben with his first fish: A proud moment). Of course when they are 4 and 5 it's a lot of work for dad. I tried at first to give them each their own pole. That was a nightmare. I was just putting out one fire after another. After about half an hour I decided this was gonna drive me crazy. So we moved to a spot where the boys could run around a bit, while I fished. Then when I would get a bite, I would call one of them over to catch it for me. They had a blast. Every time they touched the pole they had a fish on.

I can't wait for the day when Nate is old enough to go. I think 4 is just about right for the first fishing experience. They are old enough to reel in a fish and hopefully they are old enough to remember it forever. The day I am really looking forward to is when they can all handle their own rigs, tie on their own lures, and cast for themselves. I'm really going to enjoy fishing with them then.

Ben's Bunch

Sam's Stockers

The Fishing Crew

Dinner!

A Night To Remember...

On Monday we took the boys to the L.A. Arboretum. The whole time we were there all Sammy wanted to do was go "fishing" like daddy. Fishing consisted of taking a long stick and just hanging it out into the water with a flower on the end of it as bait. He would just sit there hopelessly waiting for a fish to bite. Unfortunately fish don't eat flowers and there was no hook on the end of his stick. But his passion and patience were a sign that he was ready to go.

Tonight when I got home from work we sat down for family dinner as usual, and Sam kept talking about fishing. Well I couldn't help myself any longer. I pulled Marianne out of the room for a parent conference and asked if I could take Sam out that evening for a night fishing adventure. Castaic Lagoon is open 24 hours for fishing and I knew that if we left right away we could fish sunset and into the evening. So that's what we did. And am I glad we did. Sam was so excited. On the way he kept saying "I sure hope we catch some fish! But if we don't that's okay 'cause we'll try our best." He must have said something to that effect 10x on the way to the lake.

When we got there the sun was just going down. I set up one pole for powerbait and the other with a kastmaster. I cast out the powerbait and then began to cast and retrieve the kastmaster. On my second cast I got hit. It was small so I let it run and then called Sammy over so that he could try my pole (wink wink) about 5 seconds after he had the pole he yelled out "Dad I think I got a fish!" "Well reel it in" I said. He did a great job and caught a nice little trout. 10 minutes later we caught a second, and 15 minutes after that a third (unfortunately dad dropped the extra slippery third and it got away). Nevertheless the trip was a success and we were home by 9:30 with dinner for tomorrow night.

Man it feels like I've been waiting forever for the boys to grow old enough to fish. Now that it is here it is even better than I imagined.

Meredith G. Kline (1922-2007)

In 1971 Dr. Meredith G. Kline dedicated his masterful work "The Structure of Biblical Authority" to his most influential professor Cornelius Van Til with these words...

"His theological insight and prophetic witness have been a conscience, if not canon, and his warmly human and gracious godliness has been an inspiration for the life which is in Christ Jesus."

Dr. Kline died last night, or rather was privileged "to share in the first resurrection" (Rev. 20:6), and I could not more succinctly and accurately express my feelings for my most influential professor than to dedicate back to him his own words.

Your theological insight and prophetic witness have been a conscience, if not a canon, and your warmly human and gracious godliness have been an inspiration for the life which is in Christ Jesus. I knew you but a little, but I have loved you much.

The name of this blog "Strange Detergent" is in fact taken from one of the many quotes which rings in my heart. Dr. Kline has joined that great cloud of witnesses which testify to us of the faithfulness of God's promises now perfected in Jesus Christ. And so as in life, he now testifies in death to the glory of his Savior.

I pray that his Christ centered biblical and covenant theology would resound to the glory of the Savior whom he loved in life and now loves in life eternal. He would not want his name to live on (such is the mentality and the mantra of the men of this world whose desire is to make a name for themselves), rather he would have the name of Jesus to be exalted. The only name in which weary pilgrims may find relief for their souls in the strange detergent of his blood, the only font in which sinners lose all their guilty stains.

His students remember with a sense of holy awe his prayer's before class. Here is a sampling...

“We thank Thee that all the necessary resources are indeed available, for we ask of Thee in the name of Jesus. We so come, and ask of Thee in his name, and we pray O Lord, Thou would receive us this day into Thy favor and stretch forth Thy hand upon us with blessing.

We thank Thee for the word of the prophets, which keeps lifting up our eyes unto things most important, those heavenly things, where our citizenship is, with Christ Jesus. We are so prone to be caught up in the mentality of the men of this world who are indifferent toward Thee and who even scoff at the reality of Thy presence, and Thy coming, and Thy final judgment. But we know that Thou art the living God, with whom all men have to do, and before whom an accounting shall be given. We are persuaded out of Thy Word that there does come a day when the preaching of the gospel shall cease and all must stand before thee, the great day of resurrection, of judgment. And we pray that we might be gripped by the seriousness of history, and of our lives, and of our ministry.

We pray then, that Thou would speak to us through Thy Word in this calling to be persuaders of men, that they should be reconciled to Thee through Thy Son, Jesus Christ. So bless us in our studies."

~ Meredith G. Kline

The One That Got Away

Last weekend, myself and a few guys from our church went on a one night mini fishing-camping trip to Pyramid lake. This is our second year going, and I am hopeful that it will become an annual venture. Besides the fact that we all love to fish, there is just something about sitting around the campfire roasting lil' smokies and marshmallows, and just shooting the breeze. I always come back more tired than I left, but somehow always feel refreshed. I guess it's just the refreshment that comes from hanging out with some brothers in Christ enjoying his good creation.

Last year we fished trout exclusively, and we did fairly well. Of course the DFG had just stocked and so there were plenty to be had. This year the DFG was supposed to stock but never showed up, so the trout bite was non-existent. We fished about 3 hours on Friday afternoon without so much as a nibble. A couple of guys down the way had landed 5-6 Stripers (Striped Bass) in that time on anchovies, so the plan was to pick up some anchovies and see if we could get in on some of the Striper action the next morning. But I decided that I wasn't really interested in fishing Stipers. Fishing for Stripers is what we call "bait and wait." Essentially, you just load up a hook with a chunk of bait, cast it as far out as you can, and then wait.

I prefer a more active kind of fishing, something that requires a little more finesse. That's right, I'm talking about fishing for Largemouth Bass. Now fishing Largemouth Bass ("Hawgs") is both fun and frustrating at the same time. On the one hand it is fun because it is an active cast and retrieve kind of fishing, and when you get one on I am convinced that there is no better fighting fish pound for pound. They see-saw back and forth in the water, they run, they dive, and best of all they jump clear out of the water and shake their heads ferociously trying to get free. In my opinion, that jump is one of the prettiest things an angler can see. On the other hand, fishing Hawgs can be frustrating as well because they are incredibly fickle. The presentation more often than not has to be perfect, and even when it is you're not guaranteed a hit (Especially in SoCal where the lakes are all over-fished and the bass have had every conceivable thing thrown at them). I have been skunked more times fishing for Hawgs than for any other kind of fish. But maybe that's what keeps me coming back. Maybe it is their sheer allusiveness that I find so tempting. All that being said, when you actually hook a few bass there is a real sense of accomplishment. So back to our fishing trip...

I Carolina rigged a 4 1/2 inch robo worm (Aaron's Magic) with a #2 wide worm hook onto a two foot liter topped with a 1/8oz rock hopper and headed off down the shore. I found a nice spot with good cover next to an unused boat dock and began to cast. My first retrieve was uneventful except for a near hangup. My second cast was not as good as my first, but still alright. As I crawled the plastic across the rocky bottom I suddenly felt that tap that stops a bass anglers heart. Almost instinctively I dropped my rod tip slightly to slack the line, and then WHAM! I set the hook high and hard. The bass dove immediately and I let him run a bit before I started to reel him in making sure to keep the line taunt in the likely event he would break the water. Sure enough, out he came, breaking the water and shaking his head violently. Back down and then one more run and he was tiring. I brought him in, reached down, grabbed his lower jaw and pulled him out of the water. It was a nice little hawg, short and fat, but a good fighter. He was probably 1 1/2 lbs but I didn't think he met the legal 12 inch limit so I set him free to be caught another day.

I would catch two more bass, one about the same size, and then a nice one about 3 lbs. But neither of them fought as nice as that first fish. I released the smaller of the two and proudly carried my catch back to the boys. They were happy for me and I think a little jealous. I put the bass on our stringer with their multiple but much much smaller Stripers. When we were ready to leave I asked Daniel to take a picture of me with my catch. I had told Benny that I would take a picture for him if I caught a big fish. I went down to the stringer and pulled in the bass. I put the Stripers in a bucket and started pulling the stringer off of my Hawg when it suddenly slipped all the way through the stringer and off into the water. It was gone.

So the big one really did get away. Those allusive bass, even when you think you've got them caught, they still manage to escape. Fortunately, Kwang had taken a picture with my bass as if he'd caught it, so at least I have a pixel record of the catch somewhere.

I can't wait until my boys are old enough to man fishing poles of their own!

JDF

Charles Hodge: Defender of the Faith

“And as He wills that men should study His works and discover their wonderful organic relation and harmonious combination, so it is His will that we should study His Word, and learn that, like the stars, its truths are not isolated points, but systems, cycles and epicycles, in

unending harmony and grandeur.”

– Hodge, Systematic Theology

A QUIET GLOW

Charles Hodge

(1797-1878)

When Princeton’s paths, adorned with Autumn gold,

Were echoing with reverent conversation,

Long before the winds of doubt blew cold

And wrought a pathless waste of speculation...

I picture him beside a flickering taper

Seated at an oakwood desk by night,

With quill pen whispering on fresh new paper

Thoughts on Scripture’s fountainhead of light.

What fervor must have burned in godly youth

– Our jaded age would find it quaint and odd –

To gaze upon the firmament of truth

As Dr. Hodge explored the Word of God:

His kind, bespectacled and sage old face

Aglow with childlike awe at God's free grace.

~ Keith Balser

* This poem was written by a dear friend Keith Balser in grateful admiration for one of the great defenders of the faith.

The Way I See Her...

From the very first moment I laid my eyes on her, and in spite of all that we share in common, there is one thing that has always divided my wife and I. It is a vast chasm, and every attempt to bridge this ominous divide has fallen flat.

It is the vast difference between the way that I see her, and the way that she sees herself. Sometimes, when I listen to her talk about herself, I am convinced she must be speaking of someone else. At times her self estimation is so far removed from reality that I sometimes wonder if she's been taking crazy pills or something.

She thinks she's a terrible mother... my boys tell her she's the best mommy in the universe!
She thinks she's a terrible wife... I tell her that she is my life, my joy, my bride.
She thinks that nobody likes her... I've never met a person who didn't.

She sees stretch marks... I see the marks of maternal love (the mother of my boys).
She sees moles and freckles... I see constellations.
She sees little wrinkles around her eyes... all I see is blue.

I just wish that for once she could see herself the way I see her... in that moment she would realize she is beautiful.


"Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory." ~ Colossians 3:2

"And now the leather-covered sphere..."

"And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped - 'That ain't my style,' said Casey. 'Strike one,' the umpire said...

He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew; But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, 'Strike two.'

They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again. And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light; And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out."

~ From "Casey At The Bat" by Ernest Lawrence Thayer



I love this time of year! When the Super bowl ends it means that Spring Training is about to begin. Anyone who knows me, knows that I love the Angels and bleed Angels red. But more than anything, I love the game.

And recently I have found a whole new reason to love the game, and that is due to my new favorite player. He wears number 8, and eight is great (Think Ripken, Morgan, Stargell, Berra and Yaz). Last year he played for the Tigers, but this year he will be playing for the Royals. The Tuluca Lake Royals that is, but I'd be willing to bet these Royals don't lose 100 games this year like KC did last year.

Okay, okay, so my new favorite player is only 5 years old, but this kid is the real deal, and he loves the game. Here are a few pics from last season's big game against the Dodgers.

Sam takes a few cuts in the on-deck circle.

Sam laces a double down the line, and takes third on an errant throw. Coach dad makes sure he knows what to do next. In the air, three steps and hold, on the ground your goin' to the plate.

Sam takes home on a ground ball to the right side of the infield.

The next inning the ever dangerous Braden Armes would find himself at third on a close play.

Braden's coach Doug Savant (who moonlights as "Tom Scavo" on Desperate Housewives) gives him the scoop.

With two outs Braden was running on contact. Sam would make a fine stop going to his left, but was not in time to get the runner at first (it's a long throw when you're 5).

Warriors on the field, best buds after the game!

Samuel Fick #8

I can't wait until Ben and Nate are in the game! 6-4-3 double play. For those who don't understand baseball lingo, that means Shortstop to the Second baseman to the First baseman for two outs.

JDF

Brilliant, Exhausting, Exhilarating

"Brilliant! Exhausting! Exhilarating!" That in a nutshell is how I feel about Alexander Dumas' classic "The Count of Monte Cristo." Roughly two weeks have passed since I cut down the monster leviathan and I am finally ready to say something about it. I say monster because at 1500 pages, the unabridged version is a thick read. It's sheer size is intimidating to be sure, but it is a battle worth fighting. Actually, I found that it was not much of a fight at all. Dumas grabs you by the collar on page 1 and does not let go until page 1499. It is one of those books that you cannot put down for long. It draws you back in. Dumas has a way of entangling you in his literary web in such a way that has you at the same time happy to be captured but always wanting to be free, but not for freedom sake itself, but rather that it is only in being freed that you get to see how the web unravels. It's a story about love, loss, providence, revenge, you name it and this book has it. So get it and read it, you won't be disappointed. Oh yeah, and if you've seen the movie (which is very good in its own right) it may have the same name, but it is not the same story! As in most cases, the movie pales in comparison to the book. Happy reading!

JDF

Why won't my fingers move?

I had piano lessons for about 5 years when I was a kid. From the age of 7 to about the age of 12 as I recall. I hated every minute of them. Practicing for 15 minutes was intolerable. I would even adjust the hands on the clock above the piano so it looked like I had practiced longer than I actually had. Of course my mom had no idea I was doing this (wink wink). She always told me that one day I would regret giving up and that some day I would wish I could go back and learn while I was young. I swore that day would never come.

But alas that day has come. In reality, that day actually came about 10 years ago when I began to wish I could just sit down and play the piano. I love music! I am always singing, and have always found singing hymns very devotional. And for the past 10 years I have wished that I could sit down and play and sing. Well until now I have stubbornly fought off the urge to try and learn. I'm not sure why, but I think it may be because conceding to learn the piano would prove once and for all that my mother was right. That her foresight was correct.

So now finally, at thirty years old, I have given in. My desire to play outweighs my pride. The church has a keyboard that we haven't used in about 2 years, so I decided to bring it home and give it a go. I read a number of things online regarding music theory, and even purchased a learning DVD on playing chords. I was ready to take on this beautiful monster.

Well, I have now been playing for all of 4 days. I know that I should probably have gone back to the beginning, to John Thompson Book 1, but I was too impatient. And so I started with a hymn "All to Jesus I Surrender." It is in the key of C, was our "Hymn of the Month", and did not look all that difficult in comparison to others.

I thought this was going to much easier...

I am generally a fairly quick learner, so I thought that if I just applied myself I would be able to master this as well. Now I may well tame this beast, but it is not going to happen as quickly as I had hoped, and there is one fundamental reason why. There is one crucial thing about playing the piano that I do not understand. One thing that keeps me from taking off and succeeding as I have done on so many other occasions. One thing that hampers all of my success. Maybe somebody out there has the answer. The question is simply this: "How do I make my fingers do what my brain is thinking?" I swear, I sit in that seat, I know what the notes are, I can hear them in my head, I understand how long I am supposed to hold the notes, and which fingers I am to play them with. All these things are going on in my head, so why won't my fingers move? Anybody?

JDF

Justly Esteem'd Fools

The other night I was reading "Robinson Crusoe" (my all time favorite book) to my boys at bed time, when I came upon this profoundly true statement by Defoe.

It occurs at the end of the first chapter, when after his initial distresses at sea, Crusoe considers momentarily the prospect of returning home. He says...

"As to going Home, Shame opposed the best Motions that offered to my Thoughts; and it immediately occurr'd to me how I should be laugh'd at among the Neighbours, and should be asham'd to see, not my Father and Mother only, but even every Body else; from whence I have since often observed, how incongruous and irrational the common Temper of Mankind is, especially of Youth, to that Reason which ought to guide them in such Cases, viz. That they are not asham'd to sin, and yet are asham'd to repent; not asham'd of the Action for which they ought justly to be esteem'd Fools, but are asham'd of the returning, which only can make them be esteem'd wise Men."

And so it was that I was reminded again of the wisdom of repentance.

JDF