Rest

Hi there, it's me. Yes, it has been a bit since I have posted here on my blog. I have been a little busy and I am betting some of you have been too busy to even notice.

I am busy trying to be the loving and attentive husband my wife needs me to be, the concerned dad my grown daughters need, and the involved "papaw" that my grandson needs me to be. I've got an awesome grand-daughter, too, but she's only 6-months old and doesn't really rely on me for much at the moment. For that matter, at this moment, she could take me or leave me.

Apparently I'm sort of the patriarch of my little clan, which is kind of weird to me, and intimidating, but as I understand the word of God, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. My family and my personal relationships are some of my biggest priorities, but in order for me to successfully fulfill my varied roles, I have to be the man that God has called me to be, and I can't do that without first tending to my relationship with God, the Father.

As the associate pastor at my church, one might think that I've got my spiritual walk in full swing. I mean, how can I not be in healthy relationship with God when I'm working in the church office so many hours a week and tending to the needs of the flock. With all my studying and preparing lessons for the mid-week church services or getting our children's department moving forward, certainly I am in perfect communication with Him. And even if that weren't enough, I have deep conversations my pastor multiple times a week, so obviously I have to be "ahead of the game" when it comes to spending time in the Spirit, listening to what God wants me to hear.

Then why is it that I always feel rushed? Why does it always seem that there is too much to do and not enough time with which to do it? Why does it so often seem that there is something missing, not getting done? And, why does it so often seem that my conversations with God are done as an afterthought, when I have time to squeeze it in? Well, I know why. I'm busy. I'm busy with all of these roles that He has seen fit to put on me. I'm busy with the expectations that I put on myself or that I perceive others have of me. What if I fail? What if something doesn't get done? What if I "miss" something? What if, what if, what if?

During prayer and study with my wife the other day, it was impressed upon me by the Holy Spirit to rest. So I sat quietly to hear what He wanted me to know. Soon after, I realized that even when I was attempting to rest, I was fidgeting. My eyes were closed and I took a deep breath, I stretched my arms, I cracked my neck and stretched my back. I even twiddled my thumbs. He said "rest", and so I quit and just sat there and after a moment He again said to "rest" and I thought, "I am resting" then He pointed out that my legs were moving side to side. I was using them to swivel my chair, just slightly, back and forth in little rhythmic partial circles. Sometimes I tap my feet or lightly drum on the desk. So I stopped.

I just sat there, eyes closed, not moving, not thinking, not trying to go to sleep nor avoiding sleep. Just sitting there, resting and listening to what He had to tell me. It wasn't the kind of listening where you have to strain to hear, it was the kind of listening that when you are completely at peace, you can't help but know you are visiting with Him. It was only a few moments, but I don't remember ever just resting before. I realized that I was smiling. I felt great! I had no worries, no timetable, no problems. I was rested. This is something I've been doing periodically throughout the day, since then. Same results. Peace.

In those moments, He taught me how to truly "rest in Him"  and He wants the same for you. So, when you find yourself so busy, wearing all of the hats that you are required to wear, always doing, doing, and doing some more, just stop. Take a few moments every day, stop fidgeting, and rest.

The Election (Winners and Losers)

You may not have heard but we here in the USA have a little thing called the presidential election. In a few weeks we will decide who is going to be the face of our great country and lead us for the next four years.  According to polls it's anybodies guess as to who is going to win. The implications reach far beyond my corner of the globe and expand into the entire world, like it or not.

Although our collective name, United States of America, indicates one thing we are in reality a divided nation. There are those who are either in the Democrat or Republican camps or those who are third party proponents. There are the non-affiliated and the very disinterested or disheartened. To hear tell, regardless of who wins there will be anarchy, riots in the streets and life as we know it will be over. The winners will  undoubtedly gloat while being called cheats and liars. The "losers" will demand recounts and court battles or make excuses for the loss. Both the winners and losers will be called un-American.

The "winner", an imperfect human being, will be near opposite in principle from their closest opponent thus alienating all who would have voted for someone else. Furthermore, the winner will assuredly change or compromise on some of his principled beliefs, alienating those purists who expected 100% agreement with their own point of view by the leader of the free world.

This past weekend was amazing. We held a 24 hour prayer service at our church beginning on Friday night. We prayed about many things: health issues, elimination of the drug epidemic in our county, revival, and yes, even the elections (nationally, statewide, and locally.) We prayed for the protection of our leaders and for wisdom, integrity and fidelity of office, regardless of their party affiliation.  After the prayer service was over, we began a worship service with what I would call the best worship team ever. I'm a bit biased because I truly love the members of our team of gifted singers and musicians.

A team of dedicated women decorated the prayer tent our pastor thought to erect, as well as the sanctuary, all with the theme of Harvest Celebration. They set the tone for our prayer and worship in that we ought to be thankful to God for the goodness that He pours out upon us, the expectation of continued blessings, and for the hope that is to us, Jesus Christ.  Many people put time, energy and even money into this weekend. It was worth it. Every minute spent in preparation and prayer, every penny spent on setting the environment and planting spiritual seeds, all of it was worth the cost.

We believe in the Holy Spirit as a very real person, part of the Trinity with God and Jesus. Many of us felt the presence of the Holy Spirit during the prayer and worship time, conversed with Him, and were reinvigorated in our walk down this Christian path. Some were healed, some forgiven, and some were given vision for their future. We believe that every prayer was answered regardless of the visible results or the lack thereof.

Immediately after the event my wife and I left the church energized by two full days of basking in His presence and promptly hit and killed a deer with our new car. Not brand new, but new to us. We had only made a single payment on it and on top of that it was the car my wife uses for work and now she can't. Between the tragedy that befell the deer, Deborah's great sadness (she loves animals), the damage to the car and the fact that I hadn't slept but a few hours or so in the past 40, I was a bit upset. How could this happen? I just spent so much of myself worshipping God.   

"Dwayne, what does this have to do with the elections?" Great question. In politics, as in sports, there are people praying on and for each team to win. But there is only one winner. This isn't soccer and there won't be a tie. There are people on all sides hoping for a specific outcome and it will be devastation to some on the side garnering the least amount of votes. 

The outcome of our election, or our circumstances, does not change God. Whether my candidate wins or loses, it doesn't change the love that my God has for me. He doesn't love me more or less based on if I win or not. He isn't less of God because my car was damaged and a deer died. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. My faith is in Him not in my president or my team or my circumstances. I encourage you to determine if you are living a life that is only "good" when the "right" people and circumstances line up in your favor, or is it a good life, regardless of what it looks like in the moment.

If you like this post, please comment, share and/or subscribe. If you are interested in having me speak with your group,  please contact me at by e-mail at dwaynecastle40@yahoo.com, by phone at 419-961-1265 or through my website at www.funnybutclean.com. 

The Ride

What a ride! I was able to spend all day Saturday at the roller coaster capital of the world, Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. There are dozens of coasters and big thrill rides that will quickly take you hundreds of feet into the air, spin you around, and send you hurtling back toward the ground only to pull you out of a nosedive at the last instant. There is nothing like the feeling of g-forces pressing you down into your seat followed by the negative g's lifting you back out of it. But none of these are the ride to which I am referring.

Although the screams in the air and my calls for mommy combined with the other noises filling the park were powerful, the reason I was here was even more so. This was PointFest weekend where in addition to the amusement park experience, there were musical performances by some of today's best Christian  artists and speakers, including but not limited to Skillet and Bob Lenz. I have been to some of the largest secular concerts ever and have never seen a spectacle the likes of this: coreographed flames and steam shooting into the air, perfectly timed fireworks blasts, spinning drumsets, and singers & musicians that truly understand excellence of craft. But again, this wasn't the "ride".

The ride I am writing about is in spending time with some of God's best invention: todays youth. Specifically, this was a test of sorts in that it was the first outing that my wife and I, along with some very brave chaperones, have ever led with our newly formed teen class. We found out that not only do our youth know how to have a good time, they know how to have a God time. We prayed together, played together, praised Him together and rocked our faces off together.

Many of today's youth are staring at a future of uncertainty which they didn't cause and are dragging behind them the baggage of poor decisions made by parents, grandparents, teachers, pastors and other trusted adults. They deal daily with the effects caused by divorce, drugs, death or prison. And on top of that they are forced to make decisions daily about which of the many voices they will follow, often to the point where they become numb to much of what they are hearing. 

The ride is in being a voice they can learn to trust. The ride is in being transparent enough to share our foul ups and what we learned through them. The ride is in building relationship with them and being honest about not having all of the answers. The ride is in the willingness to help them figure out this life and letting them know that it is worth the figuring. The ride is in letting them know that they matter. The ride is in overcoming the many poor diversions placed daily before them and instead pointing them to the voice of Christ.

This weekend was just a a small but fun leg on that ride. I gave my best effort in keeping up with these awesome teens and young adults which is no easy feat for this middle aged man. But after several weeks of planning, some hesitation, some fundraising (we still have more fudge for those interested) and lots of prayer, this particular trip was worth it. But the ride itself is just starting. I hope that you will join me in helping to make a positive difference in the lives of those youth in your sphere of influence. Be a voice that they they can follow, a voice reflecting the love of Christ. And while we are at it, let's pray for one another.

If you enjoyed this post, please comment, share and subscribe. For booking information please contact me at dwaynecastle40@yahoo.com or 419-961-1265 or through my website at www.funnybutclean.com.

The True Story of My Dad (Superman's Cousin)

My little brother and I were in our bedroom conducting gravitational experiments with our spit. From the top bunk we were hanging over the edge to see how close to the floor we could hang a string of spit from our mouths before it would break off and splat. I know, that's gross! But I was seven and seven year old boys revel in any new and creative way to outdo the last gross thing.

George Reeves, Jr.
Playing Superman

In this case we had been "experimenting" for about 15 minutes when my father burst into the room. Apparently he had passed the age of appreciation for disgusting displays of splatology as was evidenced by the familiar "Boys, this is going to hurt me worse than it's going to hurt you."

He reached up to snatch me off the top bunk but before he got to me his foot hit that puddle of failed experiments that had built up on the tiled floor, causing him to slip and then sail across the room before coming down on his pancreas. Yeah, let's go with pancreas. I told him that it did look like it hurt him worse than it hurt me. I was wrong.

The next day I asked him how he knew we were in the bedroom spitting on the floor, since the door was closed. "Well son," he  said, "it's like this, I am Superman's cousin and I have super powers." I immediately questioned his claim because I had not been impressed with his flying demonstration the previous day. He quickly let me know that his super power was X-ray vision and that he could see through walls. Like I said, I was seven years old and what seven year old doesn't believe it when his dad tells him something like that?

I did the natural thing which was go to school and tell everybody that my dad was Superman's cousin and by my calculations, this made me Superman's second cousin. My claim was immediately dismissed and right to my face I was told that both my dad and I were liars. Nobody is going to call my dad a liar and get away with it. Especially about something as serious as being a super hero. I fought in defense of his integrity but didn't fare too well. It turns out that super powers skip a generation and I couldn't hold my own against Jimmy or the rest of the third grade.

I began having doubts about his story when our neighbor, Moose, from the local chapter of the Hell's Angels Motorcycle Club heard me bragging about my father's super powers. He told me to go get my dad to come outside so he could... on second thought there is no need to spell out what Moose was threatening to do. The point is that I was faced with this challenge to go tell my dad that Moose wanted him to come out so he could do it. I gladly accepted the challenge on my dad's behalf and went home to get him. He just needed to come out and make an appearance. Just flex his powers to prove he was who he said he was and that would be the end of it.

On the way home I hesitated.  What if he came out and by some slim chance got beat up by Moose. I mean, Moose was a big guy with a bad reputation. What then? What if it turned out that my dad only had X-ray vision, or worse, was just human? Doubt overcame me and I feared the possibilities. I didn't go get my dad.  I didn't talk about it at school anymore, and I didn't go near Moose's house for a long time either, in hopes that he would just forget about the matter entirely. I'm guessing that he has forgotten about it by now. I didn't even mention this incident to my dad until recently. He had a great laugh.

I know that it was a story my dad made up to have fun with me but looking back, I was willing to fight for him and his integrity. I was willing to believe that he was cousin to a fictional character. I was a bit disappointed over time when I came to the realization that he was not super human after all. But I still think fondly about those early days when I believed and the lengths I was willing to go because of my belief. I wondered if I would ever feel that way again? Willing to accept the tough challenges, like Moose. Thankfully, yes!  

Although my dad is simply human and imperfect, I love him. But, I have a heavenly Father who is perfect and is who He says He is. Thanks to my experience with my dad, I didn't immediately believe in God and His all knowing, all powerful, always present self. But I opened myself up to the possibility that it could be true. I dared to believe a little at a time and found that not only is He God, He is The Creator and He made me in His image and His powers did not skip a generation.

Because of God's super-human power, I have witnessed greater things than speed faster than a bullet or strength stronger than a locomotive. I have seen hate turn to love. I have seen death defeated. I have seen needs met, right on time. And I have seen him restore the relationship of a father and son, my dad and me, after years of not speaking or seeing one another. This is the God I am willing to stand with, to obey, and to lay my life down for.

God paved a way for us to get to Him by coming in the flesh, in Jesus Christ. He didn't have to but He chose to because He loves you and me. He doesn't want us to just get by, He gives us the Holy Spirit to help build His Kingdom and to live a life full of peace and joy and power. When we are willing to accept His power on His terms, that good feeling of a boy toward his dad the super hero is magnified way beyond words or imagination.  I invite you to accept Him as your heavenly Father today. 

For questions, comments, or booking information feel free to contact me directly at 419-961-1265, by e-mail at dwaynecastle40@yahoo.com, or through my website www.funnybutclean.com. If you enjoyed this please let me know by posting a comment, sharing with others, and/or subscribing to future posts.

Walking The Dog (Can Change Your Life)

I used to own a Siberian Husky. Beautiful, strong, and smart. And the dog was pretty awesome, too. On a particular summer day, it was time for her walk. As I left the house, I noticed that my kids had left their little Razor on the sidewalk. For the reader who doesn't know what a Razor is, it's one of those cute little kids scooters with a handle to hold onto as you propel your way, skateboard style, down the road.

As I was passing by the scooter I had an idea and even now I maintain that the concept itself was brilliant. As with many brilliant concepts the execution may have been less than flawless. Okay was definitely less than flawless. I am not fooling anybody, whatever the opposite of flawlwess is, that is probably more accurate.

The adventuresome side of me, my flesh, said, "Hey, what if I stand on the Razor and let Roxy (the Siberian Husky, bred to pull thousands of pounds through the arctic, in a hurry), pull me along the road.

The logical side of me said, "Hey doofus, the dog was bred to haul thousands of pounds around the arctic, in a hurry. 200 pound you, on wheels and pavement, may not be a great plan."

My flesh said "Ah, what's the worst that could happen?" And my logic said "Hey, when you put it like that..." It sure is funny how often my flesh outwits my logic. I'm sure that never happens to you.

So we, the dog and I, started at the end of my driveway, pointing west down the blacktopped hill which was my street. Yes, downhill. Holding on to the leash I playfully called "Mush!" but no movement. How about a forceful "Heeyaw!" Nope, still nothing. "C'mon Roxy, lets go potty." Yep, that did it, movement.

Nothing out of the ordinary, just a man walking his dog, cleverly standing aboard a sleek and speedy, two wheeled, metal plank. Roxy stopped and turned her head but the Razor continued forward causing her to lurch ahead which in turn caused me and the scooter to lurch forward, which caused her to begin trotting down the street.

Since she was from a breed of pulling dogs it didn't take her long to realize, "Hey, this moron is on wheels" and begin to trot faster. My flesh was starting to enjoy this. Speed, baby! That's right, speed! Adrenaline kicking in, houses going by slowly, the road below me becoming a blur. This was alright. The trot turned into a bit of a run and as we continued to pick up speed, I could feel the little bits of road grit underneath my wheels.

As the houses began to blur, my back leg began to shake. Something inside of me started to doubt the wisdom and outcome of this great idea. "See, I told you this would be fun!" screamed my flesh to which my logic replied, "Oh look at that, the intersection." I hurdled down the street, my flesh crying "Uh-oh" followed by my logic's "I told you this was a bad idea." My flesh yelled back that this was not a time for blame, but a time for solutions.

Flesh and logic quickly agreed that there may be time to discuss this later and began coordinating to find a solution. While they were busy looking for solutions, I was yelling at Roxy to stop but she would not pay attention. Maybe the freaked out shrill of my voice was more fuel to spur her on. Besides, "stop" wasn't the correct word to use. What was that word?

Flesh and logic, working together, determined there were two possible solutions. 1)hope that Roxy stops to look both ways before crossing the busy intersection, or 2) jump. I have to tell you that flesh was really pushing for option one. Jumping didn't seem all that fun. They debated for a few seconds, but logic prevailed with the argument that sled dogs likely never came across intersections or other 'rules of the road' situations and therefore probably would simply continue on to the other side of the road. At which time I would probably be taken out by a dog lover zealously swerving to avoid Roxy.

With the decision made, I did it. I ejected myself from the speeding scooter, tucked and rolled down the pavement and after being dragged by the dog for another 10 feet or so, I let go of the leash, coming to a painful and bloody, yet living rest.

And that's when it hit me. The realization that there had been a third possible solution: let go of the leash. If I had, I would have simply slowed down and coasted to a stop, stepping off of the scooter and calling for Roxy to "Heel!" Yes. That was the word I couldn't think of earlier, when it counted. I would not have left a portion of my skin along the road, nor would I have found the aforementioned road grit buried in my skin.

How many times in life have we done that? No, not how many times have we walked a dog on a two-wheeled road missile. That's silly. How many times have we found ourselves in situations, caused by us or not, where we feel like there are only two options? We think that we have to choose between our flesh and our logic when in fact sometimes we just need to relax, take a deep breath and let go of the leash.

We get so short-sighted about our options. Reactionary. We are so focused on our perceptions and experiences that we don't take the time to ask God what He thinks about the matter. We get so caught up with our fallen flesh and flawed logic that we often don't even consider the Spirit in us as we navigate this life.

We spend precious time blaming ourselves, others, or the dog and not enough time just asking Jesus to show us the better way. It makes sense to our flesh and logic to operate that way, but think about it for a moment... Isn't it flesh and logic (ours or someone elses) that typically cause the mess we find ourselves in? Why not seek a third party, The Holy Spirit, for an answer. I have it on good authority He loves us and has our best interest at heart.

What are some leashes that you may need to let go of? Unforgiveness? Fear? Unhealthy living? An ungodly lifestyle?