Think about two words here. 'Job' and 'Purpose. If I were to ask you why you have a job you would likely answer, "For a paycheck, sir, and aren't you depriving a village somewhere of an idiot?". Most people work two jobs just so they can have enough money to be broke but ultimately the purpose of the work is to live. Now jump to the kingdom of God. If there's one question I get asked often these days it's, "What does God want me to do?" As Christians we've got things turned around for us because grace is freely given and now our lives are lived in a response of gratitude for the gift. The paycheck's already in the bank so now I just have to live worthy of it, right? So we often focus on the job since we figure the purpose is fulfilled. But it's not. Oh yeah, your salvation is sealed, but that's not what we're talking about. So what's your purpose? The Scripture says that we are "...predestined to be conformed into the image of His Son." That's the purpose. For "when we see Him, then we shall be like Him for we shall see Him as He is." Beyond salvation you embark on a quest that will likely entail a multiple of 'jobs'. Each one with a different description but a single purpose. That you be conformed to the image of Jesus Christ. Don't get hung up on the job. "Walk in the Spirit" today and "whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all of your might." Hey, knowing that in everything God is shaping you, even the job of village idiot is ok.

Pure Evil

Everyone should have a verse of Scripture that speaks to where they are at any given moment. For me, today, it's the one in the second book of Hezekiah that says "Woe to you who install fiberglass insulation". I may have misquoted it there.
Fiberglass insulation is pure evil. It was actually invented by Thaddeus P. Thudpucker in 1836, the year that Texas became the greatest nation in the world. Legend has it that when Tad was a lad that he was bad that his dad got mad and had Tad build a pad. Something thick that would keep out not only the heat, but the sound of the Mariachi band next door. He was a stupid kid and made stuff out of glass and the theory of evolution was finally debunked when, in 2003, stupid people are still using that stuff to keep out the heat and the sound of the Mariachis next door.
There could be some good uses for it though. Having problems with a mouthy kid? No problem. "Here, Junior. Have some cotton candy." Far more effective than soap, I'm thinking. Rapists could be sentenced to have to wear insulated underwear. You can choose the color, yellow or pink. Got a itch on your arm. No problem. Pain is your body's way of crying for attention. Rub some insulation on it. Your body, expecting to be scratched and appeased, will be in shock at the onslaught of pain that you've unleashed and shut up about the itch. That last one is just a theory, mind you.
That part in the Bible that mentions the Lake of Fire is a lousy translation. The word there for fire in the Greek is actually 'fiberglass insulation'. That's eternal torment. A shower of lemon juice and then a synchronized swimming class in the lake of insulation. After a dinner of stale chips, lousy salsa, and no salt, you can enjoy a concert where Liberace plinks out Yanni's greatest hits on an out of tune piano. Oh yes. I'm going to sleep now. (Itch/scratch)

I've got a friend who got a part in the Alamo. That would be the mega film that Disney is pulling off out here in Central Texas. I think everyone in Austin is either in the film or knows someone in the film. Actually not everyone made the cut. Seems the soldiers in those days didn't look like they've grown up on bacon double cheeseburgers and curly fries. They also had to get folks who were keen on letting the pork chop sideburns thicken up. That sent about half of the ladies home. So the cut was of the trim and the untrimmed. Jon is thrilled (as I am for him) that his name, face, and sideburns will be burnt onto celluloid film for all time. It's a great piece of history there, and the grandkids can rent (or download) the film anytime and watch grandpa fight along side of Billy Bob Thornton.
So I was thinking... What will I leave behind? While I have more than I should own, I don't believe that I have that much stuff. (Don't look in the garage) I don't have that much fame. Unless you count the time that I played Rip Van Winkle in the Lake Benton Elementary 5th grade class play. Mom didn't care for it because ol Winkle has act the part of drinking himself into a deep slumber, hence the name "Rip", I guess. I got the lead there and the local paper came out to snap a photo for the front page. It would have been a great photo except I didn't take off the fake beard. Oh well.
A legacy is a funny thing. It's a picture that is bound in the mind and memory of anyone who cares. If you were a generally decent fellow/feline, the memories tend to exaggerate you to sainthood. If you were a scoundrel, you'll be remembered in the same breath as Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, or Hillary Clinton. Ahh but if you're remembered as a man/woman after God's own heart, there isn't a Nobel Prize winner that can touch that.

Wonder

There's a few items in this world that share the title for the most beautiful things in the universe. A sunset at Pearl Harbor, a praying child, a wild horse at full throttle, the greasy golden bottom of a Pizza Hut pan pizza, and a pregnant woman. No, Traci isn't with child. This isn't an announcement. Two is the limit for us. Not that we didn't want more. We originally had in mind to have about 5. Then I went to Six Flags and realized that an odd number would leave one off the roller coaster. Couldn't have that. Some folks I know that have a van load of kiddos never intended to get there. Spontaneous generation I guess. Seems like things don't often happen the way we plan. I think that's God's way of keeping us from getting blinded by the illusion that we just might be in control. Have you ever seen a child birthed into the world? I didn't remember the hypnotic internal battle that labor is. I was in it with Traci. I wanted to fight it and make all the pain go away. Next to a deep papercut in the webbing of your fingers, helplessness is the worst feeling in the world. Medicine is administered and the battle rages on. The pain is finally defeated by joy. Sheer joy. The sight of the incarnation of love is all it takes. Everything is still hurting but joy takes pain and renders it ineffective. (give yourself about a 5 second pause) I've got a sermon working here and I hope it's clear enough to be seen without any further rambling. "Ahhh, Lord God, You're a wonder."