I turned 32 years old today.  Our family celebrated by taking a trip to the beach.

I don't typically get to go to the beach for my birthday -- since, of course, my birthday is in February and I've always lived in northerly climates.  But we figured it would be fun to fly a kite together, hear the waves crashing on the sand, take some pictures of our family, and enjoy lunch in one of the beachside establishments which are so plentiful at Zandvoort-aan-Zee.

We were right.  It was fun.

A little bit cold... but definitely fun.

I am a blessed man.  God has given me much in my 32 years.

You can find more pictures from our day at the beach in the Family Pictures section of the website.

I just got back from two days in Arnhem (a city in the eastern part of the Netherlands).  There were four of us together:  two current pastors of Zolder50, one former pastor of Zolder50, and one potential future-pastor of Zolder50.

We took the time to personally connect, spend a lot of time in prayer, and think strategically about the future of our ministry here in Amsterdam.  But we also got to see a bit of Arnhem in the process (my first visit to the city).  It was a beautiful city -- much like other cities throughout the Netherlands (they're all pretty similar, to be honest), but with a bit of contour to the land... and some significant World War Two history as well.

I've never seen the famous film about the Battle of Arnhem, "A Bridge Too Far" -- but now that I've seen the sites for myself, I'm going to have to see the film as well.

To see Arnhem today, you'd never guess that it had been a complete war-zone within my grandparents' lifetime.  The landscape is beautifully-forested.  The city is tidy and efficient.  It's a large and important city of 150,000.  Yet just 64 years ago, the residents of Arnhem returned to their city to find only 150 dwellings still intact.  The city had been decimated.  And all for the sake of a bridge (which the Allies had hoped to capture in order to facilitate a quicker attack through the heart of Germany's industrial region).

While we were in town, we decided to visit the military cemetary.  I had never been to such a war cemetary before (though I'm now doubly decided to visit Normandy someday -- perhaps even this summer).  It was quite the experience.

Especially to visit the grounds on such a cold, gray, wintry day... it was a very sobering experience.

I was actually surprised by how individualized each tombstone was.  There were a few, of course, which were marked simply:  "A soldier known unto God."  But most of them were engraved with each soldier's name, rank, regiment, specific date of death (not just a one-week range), a religious symbol, and a personal inscription.  Some of these personal inscriptions were words of remembrance from their parents.  Others had Bible verses.  Others had short lines of poetry...

One (of the many) that impressed me was the one here on the left:

"He did his duty, he did it well.  What he suffered no tongue can tell."

A guy my age, just doing his job.  He suffered greatly in the cause.  But Arnhem is now all the more beautiful for it.

I was observing the "umbrella holder" in our front entryway recently, and I was warmed to notice the ways that our family has adapted its use of this piece of furniture to accommodate:  three umbrellas, two plastic hockey sticks, two plastic swords, and a baseball bat.

Perhaps it sounds strange, but it's things like this that say "home" to me.

This is a cool initiative developed by a couple of friends of mine:

Facts:

1.1 billion people on this planet do not have access to safe, clean drinking water, that’s 1 in 6 of us.

Dirty water and lack of sanitation causes 80% of all sickness and diseases, and kills more people than any other form of violence, including war.

Women and children often have to walk more than 3 hours per day to collect water that most likely will make them sick. This prevents them from working or attending school, and puts them at greater risk of sexual harassment and assault.

Children are especially affected, 42,000 deaths occur every week from unsafe water and lack of basic sanitation, 90% are children under 5 years old.

Think about it:
$1 is enough money for 1 person to have clean water for 1 year! It’s that simple.

(Information taken from Charity:Water)

What can we do?

By giving up what you’d normally drink in exchange for the water from your tap you can save that money to help build clean water projects for communities in need.

So ditch the morning kopje koffie and juice, leave out the lunchtime cola, and cancel the fine wine and biertjes at night. You may need a large dose of self-discipline, but we know you can do it, because you know who you’re doing it for. Make the choice! Think about and identify with those 1.1 billion people in our world who don’t have the choice.

(Adapted from Blood:water mission)

How and when?

For the time of fasting known as Lent from 25 February to 11 April 2009 give up all drinks except for tap water. Make a note of what you would have spent on other drinks. On Easter Sunday give the total of what you saved to a (water and sanitation) charity.

Who? Suggested charities:

• Charity:water: www.charitywater.org
• Healthy Vine: www.healthy-vine.org
• Nuru: http://www.nuruinternational.org/
• Blood:water mission: http://www.bloodwatermission.com

Please consider joining us through giving water this Easter and tell your friends!
For more info contact: Claire: clairebuswell@gmail.com or Naomi: naomi.triggs@gmail.com.

I still haven't completely decided if I'm going to participate or not (primarily because I'm wondering how it will play out with my "work space" often being cafes in the city who wouldn't really appreciate a non-paying customer) -- but I'm starting to lean in the direction of personal involvement.

At any rate, I thought I would spread the word.  Maybe you would like to Choose Water, too!

"Hey man, do you know which way the Red Light District is?"

It's a question that I probably get asked on a weekly basis.  And it's a question that always makes me wonder how I'm supposed to respond.

I could say that I don't know... The only trick is that -- having a generally good sense of direction and six years of experience getting around in the city -- I'd be lying.

I could refuse to answer his question on ethical grounds, because I really do think that Amsterdam's sex industry is not only immoral (for the "client") but downright exploitative (for the women behind the windows, for the pimps, and for the city which allows for the practice to continue as a means of attracting tourists and increasing tax revenues).  I could offer a simple, "I'm sorry, man -- I can't tell you that" or a "Sorry, I'd rather not say."  But in a random, passing interaction like this -- with no other relational context to define the interaction -- I would only come across as a judgmental prude.

Or I could provide him with the information he's looking for -- playing the part of the friendly neighborhood tour-guide.  But because of said immorality and exploitation, I would feel like something of an accomplice to these systems -- essentially watching the poor stranger's steps leading straight to the grave.

So what am I supposed to say?  What would you say in such a situation?

I'm not sure why... but I haven't felt much of a drive or desire to write lately.  So I'll post some "pretty pictures" from the last week instead.  Actually, all of these photographs were taken this past Saturday (Valentine's Day).  It was a beautiful sunny day here in the Netherlands, and I got to spend some beautiful time with my loved ones.

In the morning, I got to walk with Elliot and Olivia to a neighborhood park, just as it was waking from its frosty slumber.  Though I've often seen the stork's nest at the top of the artificial chimney in the middle of the park's playground area,  I had never actually seen a real stork there... until this time!  It looked so beautiful up against the deep blue sky that I just had to take a (dozen) picture(s).

After playing at the playground for awhile, we walked through the rest
of the park and watched as the sun started to force its way through the
frost and ice.

Then, later in the afternoon, Marci and I got to go on a special Valentine's Day-trip to the Kröller-Müller Museum, situated in the middle of a forested national park.  Upon arriving (via Greenwheels), we picked two of the dozens of bicycles to cover the 3.4 kilometers from the parking lot to the museum itself.

It was a beautiful (albeit a bit cold) day to be out in nature with my Valentine.

And the museum itself was incredible.  Probably one of the best (if not the best) museums that I've been to yet in the Netherlands.  Their collection of Van Gogh paintings was absolutely amazing.  I'd highly recommend a visit to anyone who's not been there yet.

Elliot is quite popular among his classmates.  Especially his female classmates.  At this point -- with his classmates being ages 6 and 7 -- it seems pretty sweet and innocent and fun.  But this note passed to Elliot during school yesterday makes me wonder if (or when) I need to become more concerned.

I got a new bicycle this week.  My fifth one since moving to Amsterdam.

My first one, Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz, lasted for about four months (February 2003 - June 2003) before it got stolen.  My second one, Niet Makkelijk, lasted about a year (July 2003 - sometime in the middle of 2004) before it was retired because of "old age" (just generally falling apart in a lot of little ways, though nothing extremely severe).  My third one, Cleveland (a.k.a. Darth) Brown, lasted approximately three years (mid-2004 - May 2007) before dying from a cracked frame.  And then my fourth bicycle, Pilgrim, lasted almost two years (May 2007 to February 2009) -- but also ended up succumbing to a cracked frame (both times it was the stem of the front fork -- which seems to indicate that my handlebar leverage technique may be problematic).  Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz and Cleveland Brown were good bikes.  Niet Makkelijk and Pilgrim not so much.

It remains to be seen what will come of the new bicycle.

The new bicycle is a Batavus Torino (a Dutch brand trying to invoke Italian imagery):  three-toned paint-job (gray, blue, and dark purple) with silver splatter-guards and a dorky round headlight.  It's too old to be cool in the "shiny, sleek, new" way... but it's too new to be cool in the "old-school, black-framed, classic, oma-fiets" way... but it seems to be a solid piece of machinery that should serve me well (I notice that I'm getter better and better each time, when it comes to figuring out what's important to me in a bike).

So now, I'm trying to name it (an old tradition for all my "beasts of burden").  But I haven't completely decided.  Here are some of the names that I'm currently considering:

• Number Five
• Torino Twilight (because of the three-toned paint job)
• The Shroud (Get it?  The Shroud of Turin?)
• Giuseppe Crepuscolo ("Joe Twilight" in Italiano)

So what do you think?  Any other good suggestions?  I'd love to have some help on this most-important task. :-)

This weekend, I had the privilege of traveling to the Dutch countryside with a group of 23 of the home group leaders from Zolder50 for our semi-annual Home Group Leaders Retreat.  And, as always, we had a great time to connecting with each other and learning together.

Eva and Patricia organized and executed a wonderful seminar on conflict management, which proved to be very intellectually-stimulating as well as instantly-applicable to our personal lives and our various home groups.  It's embarrassing how ill-equipped most of us "grown-ups" are at handling interpersonal conflict -- and how quickly we can revert to patterns learned (consciously or subconsciously) during elementary school!  So to have a seminar where we could carefully and deliberately learn about the causes, effects, and practical ways to deal with conflict was extremely valuable.

And it was just plain fun to be able to learn together with a quality group of people.

And getting to visit another one of the Natuurvriendenhuizen (Friends of Nature House) in the wooded Gelderland countryside was also a wonderful experience.  Our home group leaders have used two of these spaces (originally developed by Jewish Socialists in the early part of the 20th Century) now, and they've proved to be wonderful facilities for hosting small conferences like this:  cheap, comfortable, equipped with fabulous industrial-strength kitchens and airy meeting spaces -- and out of the city... Way out of the city...

And, of course, one of the best parts about staying at a Natuurvriendenhuis is the ability to go for an afternoon walk at the end of the retreat (this has become something of a tradition for our home group leaders retreats).

Even at a time of the year when the weather is less-than-ideal, these
walks are always a great time for stretching our legs, connecting with
each other in deeper, more personal conversation, and enjoying nature
together.

It ended up being a great weekend.

For those who might be interested, there are a few more pictures from the weekend that can be viewed in the Zolder50 pictures section of the website.

It may have only been a dream.  But for Jerry, the emotional release had to have been something of a gift from heaven.  It was more than mere emotional diarrhea -- more than detached historical debate.  Simply put:  Jerry rebuked his predecessor.  He really gave him an earful, a tongue-lashing, a verbal whipping.  He yelled at him.  And it turned out that he had a lot more anger and resentment in him than what anyone had imagined.

It started in a most unusual way.  Jerry and Dick were in Texas, visiting Lyndon’s ranch.  Ladybird was there, too, though she was busy in the kitchen.  The ranch rendezvous was a deliberate meeting, but also strangely casual.  They were just talking a bit, shooting the breeze, discussing the possibilities of maybe going out to eat somewhere.  And then somehow, it came out that the day just happened to be Lyndon’s birthday.  Jerry and Dick mumbled a couple of clumsy Happy-Birthdays, and then the conversation got awkward.  It turned out that a group of others were going to be joining them to go to this Spanish (not Mexican) restaurant in town.  So it wasn’t actually going to be just the three of them having an opportunity to talk and dig deep for the whole evening.  Their time, in fact, was very limited.  At some point amidst the awkwardness and embarrassment of misunderstanding, Dick got up to go the bathroom.  So it was just Jerry, Lyndon, and a ticking clock.  Eventually, Lyndon broke through the awkward stillness.  He hemmed and hawed and, well, uh, er, so… asked how the kids were doing.  So Jerry ended up taking out his old photo album -- brown leather, rounded edges, zippered sides -- and he opened up the pages of his life to his old colleague.

So Jerry was showing Lyndon his old photo album, sitting at the kitchen table in the Johnson homestead -- Ladybird doing some pickling on the kitchen counter.  And then suddenly, perhaps to circumvent the awkwardness that had been growing between the two of them -- Lyndon adopted his bulldog, hyper-critical, snide-and-cynical persona.  He sneered at the pages of Jerry’s photo album made some snide, smart-alecky remark about Washington, or about Republicans, or about leadership in general.  The comment was immaterial, actually; his tone said it all.  Something about this comment just broke an emotional dam in Jerry.  His face became red and twisted -- partly enraged and partly trying not to cry.  He pointed a long, strong finger right at Lyndon’s face, and he rebuked him.

“Shut up, Lyndon.  Shut up.  Who are you to sneer?  Who are you to scoff -- when I’m left to finish what you started?  You left me holding the bag.  And whatever kind of cynicism you’ve developed over the last few years, I’m still not going to give you the moral high ground over me.  I deserve respect.  I DEMAND RESPECT!”

The words were not delivered in a gentle, measured, respectful way.  They were driven by anger, rage, hate, accusation, and a deep desire to shame and humiliate his predecessor.

In that moment, before Lyndon had a chance to respond -- other than staring at Jerry with a shocked expression, like a West Side Story stabbing -- the rest of life rushed back at them.  Dick stood in the doorway, silent but clearly having overheard most of the conversation.  Ladybird set her giant pickle jar down on the counter with a thud and whistled, “Whoa, take it easy, Jerry.”  And then, suddenly, the back door opened, and a group of a couple dozen strange Texans (including a handful of reporters, it seemed) piled into the room, ready to go out and celebrate Lyndon’s birthday.

So they all got swept up in the crowd and went along to the Spanish (not Mexican) restaurant in downtown Johnson City.  The conversation with the group was about trivial things like motorcycles and beers (things which presumably appealed to the “Birthday Boy,” but not so much to Jerry or Dick).  At the restaurant, Lyndon could not look Jerry in the eyes.  Jerry felt kind of bad for having laid into Lyndon like that, back at the ranch -- but not really bad.  In a way, he actually felt satisfied and smug in his own way.  He kept silent while everyone chattered around him.  And he kept looking at Lyndon to see him avert his eyes.  In their interchange, Jerry had become the Alpha Wolf; Lyndon was licking his genitals and trying to crawl back under the more dominant male.  And that suited Jerry just fine.

Eventually, Lyndon started to loosen up (though he still couldn’t lock eyes with Jerry).  His cool, smug, smart-alecky persona came back.  He started to play the hot-shot life-of-the-party.  He recommended some of his favorite -- "excellent” -- local, or at least regional, beers.  And then he leaned back in his chair, tipping up the front two legs, showing off a little bit and trying to get the attention of the pretty waitress.  And then he crashed.  The chair slipped out from under him, and he crashed hard to the floor.  It was obvious that it hurt.  It hurt him badly.  He tried to stay dignified and play it off like it was funny.  But everyone could tell that it was excruciating.  He was old, washed-up, jaded -- a pretender.  And his come-uppance had been delivered.  There was some stirring of compassion in Jerry’s heart for the poor guy, lying on the floor all bruised and battered like that.  But mostly, he felt satisfied.  As if justice had been served.

As everyone else stared and wondered what to do next, Jerry signaled the waitress and asked if he could pay for his drink.  He had to get back to life. He had to get back to work.  After settling up, he smiled a firm smile, nodded politely, put on his jacket, and walked out the door without looking back even for a moment.

We've been doing a series at Zolder50 about Stewardship:  a somewhat archaic word for the Christian concept which involves managing God's resources and -- by extension -- one's own personal finances.  As a part of this series, we've promised to post a few resources on our church website... only it seems that we're having some technical difficulties with adapting content on our website at the moment.  So, in the meantime (while people much more tech savvy than me work to fix the problems with the church website), I thought I would post some of the resources here on my own blog -- since a lot Zolder50 people tend to follow this site as well (and since the resources are valuable even for non-Zolder50 people!)...

So anyway... First, as promised during Theo's teaching, you can download the World's Easiest Budget here.  Or, if you would prefer, you can also download the more detailed Personal Monthly Budget here.  Both of these (excellent) tools are the work of Theo de Groot, so I cannot claim any personal credit for them -- but seeing how he's an experienced financial controller, business owner, and consultant with years and years of experience, it's probably better that way, isn't it? :-)

And secondly, if you would like to give financially to support the work of Zolder50, you can take note of the following information for electronic bank transfers:

Rekening: 628052022

Naam: Stichting GCM Netherlands

Plaats: Amsterdam

Hopefully these resources can be a great help and encouragement both to you and to the work of Zolder50 in Amsterdam.  In "tough economic times" like this, it's indeed good to remember Who's controlling all the resources...