Time Flies When You Are Serving God

May 19, 2007 at 10:05 pm · Filed under Children's Ministry, Devotional, Kidology, Poetry, Spiritual Growth

Saturday, May 12th, was one of those days that makes you feel old… but so happy too. It was a day of seeing another of my K.C. Krew kids getting married!

The last time you’ll see “Cheek” after Krista’s name!Krista and Karl Today….

Karl and Krista in 1998!

Cool Krista!
(wearing a costume for Kids Church)

Krista getting married, and that’s Sara’s dad doing the ceremony!

This was a very encouraging day for me. You minister and invest in so many kids in your life, and you don’t always get to see what God does with their lives. Some you never even get to say good bye to, let alone, get to see them again years later. It was so nice to get caught up on what they are doing and how much they have grown up!

Krista’s little sister Erin, Gwen, (me), Laura and Amy Joy.

And YES, I have old pictures of all of them: (hope they still love me after this!)

Erin back then!

And Amy Joy too!

I’ve got special stories with each of these girls, and it was fun to tell them over again at the wedding. Laura, second from the right, graduated from Moody Bible Institute on the same day as the wedding, (along with another former K.C. Krew kid, Noah, not at the wedding), and is also very special because she is the first kid I ever baptized. She may not realize it, but she is quoted in an article on Kidology.org, but since it is the membership section, here is the poem she wrote:Here are some pictures of Laura:

Laura in 5th or 6th Grade

Who is that skinny runt Laura is sitting with?

Sorry these pictures are grainy, but I was pioneering the era of digital photography back then! But lest you think it is only the girls I fondly remember, there were some grown up guys at the wedding too!

Bruce (Krista’s “little” brother), me, and Billy.

Also, David, Amy Joy’s Big Brother,
now a piano major at DePaul University! David and Karl then!
(when he played a keyboard in Kids Church)

And here was the “shocker” for me… you know those cute little pip-squeeks in Kid’s Church? They may end up dating some day! Here is Gwen, one of the first kids I met when I was interviewing at the church, and Bruce, who was my official “Taco Bell Buddy.”

Awana Clubber Gwen, back then!

But, last, but not least, here is the girl who almost made a grown man cry: My little sweet Beth, who I used to put in my guitar case to try and steal her home! (and btw, whose mom made nearly all of Gus’ costumes)

Sweet Little Beth, as I remember her! Beth and Karl not so long ago!

Beth and Karl today!

Here is Beth of today, sweet as ever, but a bit taller. (And not blond?!) One of the first things she said to me was, “Pastor Karl, I don’t think I’ll fit in your guitar case any more!”

But what made me happiest was to see my little Beth, who was never old enough to be on K.C. Krew when I was there, proudly wearing a Kid’s Krew shirt nearly ten years later.

WARNING!
Emotional Emoting Coming:

No matter what happens in life, the good, the bad, and the ugly, there is only one thing that will remain - the fruit that GOD grows as we serve Him with all our heart. That God would use me in the lives of so many children over the years is truly amazing and humbling to me. Why me? There is no reason other than His amazing grace and mercy… as I often like to say, the biggest miracle God ever does is to use imperfect people to share His perfect love.Seeing these nearly grown kids and reliving the happy memories of days as their pastor, was a sobering reminder that the most important thing we can invest our lives in is people.

Perhaps you have seen the little plaque that reads, “Only one life, ’twill soon be past, only what’s done for Christ will last?” Well, that’s not what all that the poet wrote.

The poet wrote this:

“Only one life, ’twill soon be past,
Only what’s done for Christ will last.
And when I am dying, how happy I’ll be,
If the lamp of my life has been burned out for Thee.”

Life is filled with trials. Some are our own fault, others God sovereignly brings our way as part of His purposes, but either way, they are part of His Refining process. When you get stressed, or depressed, or compressed, or repressed, or depressed, or…. (you get the idea!)… focus on the good, on what God has done in spite of you… and be encouraged. Fruit that is of you, will fade away, but Fruit that is of God will continue to grow with or without you, because it God causing the growing all along.

As AT & T used to sing, “reach out, reach out and touch someone,” for that’s all that matters and all that lasts. I hope God will allow me to see even more kids in the years ahead who He let me have a little part in leading them to Him and teaching them about Him.

Top Row: David, Krista and Noah
Middle: Krista (different one), Melody, & Laura in the pink
(Beth’s mom, Kim, on right)
Front Row: Karl and Sara

And save those pictures, you never know who you might be able to embarrass on your blog someday!

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CLEAN THAT ROOM OR ELSE!

March 30, 2007 at 7:51 pm · Filed under Devotional, Humor, Poetry

OK, enough serious poems for now. You may not know that I was once known as the “White Boy Rapper” and could hold my own in rap fights with the ‘brothers’ in high school. I was the new kid, having just moved to Chicago in time to start 11th grade. I was surprised when I arrived to see how separate the whites and blacks were in my Chicago south suburban high school, when in my previous high school in California there did not seem to be the obvious racial separation. I made a bold move to sit in the “black section” at lunch and it began an adventure that turned out to be a highlight for me in high school. Persecution? Some, but I made some great friends, and after telling these ‘brothers’ for weeks about a “white boy rapper” I knew who could whoop ‘em all in a rap fight… I finally set a day for them to meet him on a lunch break (we had open campus at lunch) and after waiting and waiting, when there was only 15 minutes left to lunch, I pulled out a pair of black 80’s style shades (well, it was the 80’s!) and had my first rap fight… to hear those white boy raps you have to hear them in person, as I won’t post them! (most are still memorized, but will die with me!) But I have done them a few times when I speaking in a black church. But I loved the challenge of making up raps on the spot and going back and forth trying to outdo the other guy and myself. In raps fights, winning isn’t the goal, it is simply surviving; not messing up really bad! Which happened a lot, but even in losing, I earned their respect. The doors to witnessing that were opened were fun and amazing.

ANYWAY - I decided I WILL post one of my “raps.” This was not from those playground fights, but was written for a Parent Appreciation Dinner in high school when the teens served their parents a meal and put on a program. I was asked to do a white boy rap with some friends doing the sound effects behind me. I don’t have this written anywhere, it is still in my head, and usually my puppet Gus does it now… but here it is, preserved now for posterity!

THE CLEAN ROOM RAP
by white boy karl bastian

The other day while I was kickin’ back in my room,
Little did I know my Mom was coming home soon.

My radio was on up to the Richter scale,
And my whole entire room – it smelled kinda stale.

I was kicking back on stuff, ten feet above my bed,
And then I remembered what my mamma said,

She said, “When I get home if this room’s not clean…
When your father gets home he’s gonna see a bloody scene!”

So I snapped alert, I jumped off the bed,
And by the time I hit the ground I nearly broke my head!

I started to clean up the awful mess,
But where to start? I just couldn’t guess!

So I opened up my drawers, shoved my stuff inside,
And put my clothes in the machine with the whole box of Tide.

Next I filled a garbage pale, then two and three and four…
Then I made a discovery…. my room it had a floor!

I worked really hard, I mean it was a BIG mess!
I even found my Bible, now doesn’t God bless?

Well, I worked all day, man, it was a big job,
And when I just got done, I heard the door knob.

Well I went downstairs, I said “How was your day?”
My mamma looked at me and said “You’d better start to pray!”

She walked right by me headin’ for my room,
And I could see she was thinkin’ and planning my doom!

But then she opened up the door, and she looked inside…
It took five buckets of water before she’s revive!

When she finally came to, she was in a state of shock!
She was so dumbfounded, she couldn’t even talk!

She said, “Karl, it’d be nice if you always would,
Keep your room like this, like you know you should.”

I said, “Hey, Mom, I’m a kid, I got things to do,
Places to go, friends to see, and lots of problems too.

But if it really is as bad as you say….
Let’s go check out your room, it’s right this way!”

Karl Bastian, 1988

Hope you enjoyed it… now GO CLEAN YOUR ROOM!

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Through a Mother’s Eyes

March 28, 2007 at 10:59 pm · Filed under Devotional, Family, Kidology, Poetry

Tonight a father and son came over to watch the The Passion of the Christ at my house as part of their Easter preparation. (I have a pretty sweet home theater in my basement that they wanted to ‘borrow’) It is a movie that I can handle watching about once a year. It is a powerful experience. If you have not seen it, you really should. (Read my review on Kidology.org) It is a very fitting film for Easter time as you can no longer be flipant or casual about Jesus’ death after seeing this film. Anyway, as I continue to post my long-lost poetry, (torture to some I’m sure!), I was moved by the film to post a poem I wrote about the Crucifiction titled “Through a Mother’s Eyes.” It also is a song written in B minor, bu you’ll have to use your imagination for that.

Through a Mother’s Eyes

She stood there looking at her son,
She said, “I thought you were the one,
The Scriptures promised so long ago,
Who’d come to make us finally whole.”
But now He hung there on a tree,
Bleeding, dying, in misery,
She saw the wounds, she heard his cries,
Through a Mother’s Eyes

As she gazed up through eyes of tears,
Her thoughts traveled back through the years,
To when she’d first learned she’d have a son,
And those quiet years when He was young.
But all along she knew the day would come,
When he would cease to be her son,
And so she’d watched, as time went by,
Through a Mother’s Eyes

But now He’d grown to be a man,
Sent by God to complete His plan,
He came to earth to bring us life,
To lift man’s burden of sin and strife.
But still she could not understand,
Could this be what God had planned?
She heard him groan, she heard his sighs,
Through a Mother’s Eyes

She looked up to His eyes above,
But instead of hate they burned with love.
Peace was flowing out of them,
Forgiveness to those He could condemn,
For in this shame and great disgrace,
He hung so He might take their place,
Now she started to see why…
Through a Mother’s Eyes

Though He’d paid the greatest cost,
The victory had not been lost.
Her eyes were opened, now she could see,
Salvation now to man was free!
Jesus’ redemptive work was done!
Satan trembled because Christ has won!
For he knew that now his greatest loss,
Was the soul of every soul who would
GAZE UPON THE CROSS!
Through a Mother’s Eyes

Karl Bastian, ~1984

I’m not sure how theologically sound it is - but hey, I was still in junior high and hadn’t gone to Bible college yet. But I think the point is made even if we don’t truly know what was going through Mary’s heart and mind as she watched her son die. No one seemed to understand what was truly happening… but we DO, and so we have a greater responsibility to respond!

That Jesus volunteered to go through all of that on my account… well, there just aren’t words to describe it. I found another poem about the crucifixion, but I want to save it until Good Friday. Hope this encouraged you to focus on the cross. It is the great equalizer.

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All I Need

March 26, 2007 at 6:17 pm · Filed under Devotional, Photography, Poetry, Spiritual Growth

One of the reasons I highly encourage journaling is that you may find that years from now you can be your own best encourager! When you read words you wrote yourself long ago, you are more open to them because, well, you wrote them. The words of others can be hard to accept at times, but when your own words are exactly what you need, it’s kinda hard to argue. Such was the case with the discovery of this poem, written eighteen years ago. (am I that old?) At a time in my life when so much is new, and when letting go and saying good bye to many people and things that I loved and took for granted as a part of my daily and weekly life are gone - it was nice to read the words of a much younger version of me saying through this poem, “be content, all you need is God. But He’s given you so much more.” Enjoy!

ALL I NEED

Make yourself, Lord, all I need,
In all I say and do,
May my dependance be on nothing else,
Let me only lean on you.

I want to need nothing else,
Than to know I’m on your side,
So when problems come, or I get down,
I will run to You and hide.

Make yourself, Lord, all I need,
Even over the things I love,
Because even those I’m finding out,
Are just extras from above.

I want those extra blessings,
The things you’ve given me,
To be things I am fine without,
When they’re gone or hard to see.

I do want to enjoy them,
For that is why they are sent,
But when it is just me and You,
I want to be content.

So make yourself, Lord, all I need,
As I live each day through,
Make me happy, peaceful, and content,
As long as I have you.

Karl Bastian, 1989

If you make a list of the things you truly need, the list becomes amazingly short. Then when you list your blessings, yes, name them one by one, you find that your blessings far out weigh your real needs, even if your list of fulfilled “wants” does feel shorter than you’d like. Like Adam and Eve, who fixated on the one tree they were forbidden to eat from, we too often focus on the thing we can’t have, instead of on all the many things we can. God is saying to us as well, “Look at all the other trees.”

The blessings and gifts of God truly do out weigh the losses and hurts of this short life. Take a deep breath and breath God in deeply…. ahhhh, He is all you need.

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Constantly Becoming

March 24, 2007 at 10:35 pm · Filed under Family, Photography, Poetry, Spiritual Growth

Another poem from youthful days. This one I actually put to music, (key of G my hand written notes say) but, NO, I’m not going to record it and upload an MP3, good friends have advised me against a singing career.

Chicago, taken 1989, no digital editing, I used a filter for the coloring.

CONSTANTLY BECOMING

I’m not who I used to be,
I’m not who I will be,
‘Cause more like my Savior,
I’m everyday becoming.

I’m constantly changing,
Constantly rearranging,
And I won’t reach perfection,
Until His second coming.

But until I see Him in the sky On His love I will rely,
I must let Him live through me,
So with His glory I can shine. Oh, I tried to live life on my own,

But I’ve learned my life is just a loan,
God entrusted it to me,
My life’s no longer mine. I’ve given it back to Him,

The good, the bad and all the sin,
So He can mold it and shape it,
He’s the potter, I’m the clay. Sometimes I find it hard to trust,

But I know that it is a must,
If I’m to be all I’m meant to be,
On that final day. (So I’m)

Constantly changing,
Constantly rearranging,
And I won’t reach perfection,
Until His second coming.(Praise God!)
I’m not who I used to be,
But I’m still not who I will be,
‘Cause in the image of God’s Son,
I’m constantly becoming.

Karl Bastian, 1989

This is my little brother, 1989, visiting me at MBI. That’s the George Sweeting Center for World Evangelization being built in the background. (Taken from the top of the parking garage - yes, I did sit my little bother on the brink of a six story ledge! Funny the things you notice years later!)

It’s amazing to read words I wrote my freshman year of Bible College (MBI) that are as true today as they were back then. I hope I’m closer to God now than I was then, and yet, I’ve made some big mistakes since that youthful idealism, but the encouraging truth is that God isn’t finished with me yet! The changing and rearranging is still going on today!

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He Who Dies with the Most Acorns

March 22, 2007 at 8:55 pm · Filed under Children's Ministry, Devotional, Humor, Poetry

OK, another poem from the past. This one was inspired by a bumper sticker that was popular at the time that said, “He who dies with the most toys wins.”

ACORNS

There once was a squirrel,
Who got in his mind,
To get every acorn,
Of every last kind.A huge hollow oak tree,
Weighing more than a ton,
Is where he settled down,
To build his kingdom.

Day in and day out,
He went off to look,
And if he saw an acorn,
That acorn he took.

He cared not if he,
Robbed another squirrel’s home,
For he wanted all acorns,
To be just his own.

This went on through spring,
And through mid-summer too,
“Winter is coming,
Oh, what will we do?!”

Cried the other fine squirrels,
As they gazed on his tree,
Standing firmly there,
Oblivous to the breeze.

He say up on top,
Way up high like a king,
When along came a breeze,
Into air did he swing.

He fell to his death,
The poor little guy,
The others moaned for a moment,
Thought they didn’t know why.

He had done all that work,
And had done it in vain,
As the others bounded up,
All staking their claim.

The moral to this tale,
That I hope I have taught,
When you’re old and look back,
Will you like all you sought?

After all:

He who dies with the most acorns wins…. nothing!

Luke 9:25 “What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, and yet forfeit his very self?”

(still copying from the hand written notebook)

Wouldn’t it be better to have nothing, and yet be right with God and man?
Let’s put the Lord and Others above the “acorns” in our life.

Karl Bastian, 1985

OK, back to 2007. I’ve always thought it would be fun to make this poem into a children’s picture book… but the dying squirrel might be too tramatic for kids, and the lesson is more for adults, so this is probably good enough. But I’ll end with this thought… What are the acorns in your life and distract you from what really matters?

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Read, and I May Have to Kill You

March 22, 2007 at 2:24 am · Filed under Life, Poetry

The following poem I share hesitantly.

One of my favorite meal-time stories revolves around this poem. For after I wrote it, and read it to my 9th grade English Class, I wound up being asked to stay after school. In trouble? That’s what my fellow students thought. Instead, I was offered a career in an government agency that found interest in my love of codes and disciphering, my dabbling in speaking several foreign languages, and thought my plans at the time to be a foreign missionary would be a perfect cover to my “real” job. I’d tell you the rest of that true story, but then I’d have to kill you. (thats a joke!) Don’t want to risk my cover! In the end, after consulting with (duh) my parents, and even an “agent” of a foreign missions organization, I turned the offer down, including a scholarship to a college of my choice. But I have always been flattered that an agent on leave from the field, teaching high school English for one year as an undercover recruiter, would select me as a candidate. There’s more to the story, that must be saved for telling in person someday.

But the assignment was to write a sonnet - 10 syllable lines, and 14 total lines, of course. I wrote mine in mere minutes, and when I raised my hand and told the teacher I was done - he said I could turn it in in two weeks, or read it to the class now and he would “rip it to threads.” I found that option much too tempting, and in my youthful boldness, I chose the public shredding. I walked to the front of the class, and read my sonnet, which I still have memorized to this day:

A poem thought I’d write for thee from I,
In English old to help the time pass by.
For in this class whist I am now enrolled,
Learn I of poems that for years been told.
I find them boring and of little use,
Except on students boredom to induce.
Although I try they come across quite dull,
I’d rather blast a tape of rock n’ roll.
They call this form of lit’ature an art,
And then waste time to tear it all apart.
If it can not express in just one try,
Then leave it in the books and let it die.
But need I end this now say not I’m mean,
But of lines sonnets have but just fourteen.

Karl Bastian - 1987

Of course, the class liked the “rock n roll” line, even though I was not much of a rock n’ roller, unless early Mike Smith and Petra count! (good thing we had one sylable “tapes” and not two sylable “CDs” back then!) But the poem had a point I was trying to make. That we were often studying poems that even when they were originally written years ago no one knew what the author meant, and I believed that if the author wasn’t understood in his own time, it was silly to be studying him now. I’d rather be studying the prose, vocabulary, culture and purposes of a poet that was understand and appreciated in his own time, but that had lost that understanding only because of changing language and culture. Anyway, the teacher said only, “I’d like to see you after school” and the rest, well, I’ve already told you too much.

Gotta go, the phone in my shoe is ringing….

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There Are Absolutely No Absolutes!

March 21, 2007 at 9:30 am · Filed under Devotional, Life, Poetry

Cleaning / Organizing in my office today, and came across a spiral binder of poetry written when I was a young man… they are all hand written, so I am going to post some of them here to preserve them and to provide for feedback…

There Are Absolutely No Absolutes!

“There are no absolutes,” you say,
But are you absolutely sure?
For once you say that there are none,
There’s one, where none there were!

And when you press to convince,
That there really should be none,
The very fact that you say “should”
Brings out another one.

Then you’re quick to point out,
That my logic is not right,
But if logic’s based on nothing, then
On what do you stand to fight?

And what about the times I hear
You say you were not treated fair,
On what grounds do you call them wrong,
With no standard to compare?

If you say I’m wrong, I’m right!
And you lose, once you say you win!
For once you set up one as right,
Your argument caves in.

So if there are no absolutes,
And always a counter view,
Then I must add of your argument,
That also must be true.

Karl Bastian, 1988

This was written for a high school philosophy class. I got an “F” because I was supposed to defend the teaching that there are no absolutes. My teacher was absolutely sure there weren’t any. My fellow students started to ask me what I believed was absolutely true, and I got to share the Truth. I am absolutely sure there are absolutes! Aren’t you?

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A Smart Turkey!

November 24, 2006 at 12:46 am · Filed under Holidays, Humor, Poetry

When I was a young turkey, new to the coop,
My big brother Mike took me out on the stoop,

Then he sat me down, and he spoke real slow,
And he told me there was something that I had to know.

His look and his tone I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of Black November:

“Come about August, now listen to me,
Each day you’ll get six meals instead of just three,

“And soon you’ll be thick, where once you were thin,
And you’ll grow a big rubbery thing under your chin.

“And then one morning, when you’re warm in your bed,
In’ll burst the farmer’s wife, and hack off your head.

“Then she’ll pluck out all your feathers so you’re bald ‘n pink,
And scoop out all your insides and leave ya lyin’ in the sink;

“And then comes the worst part,” he said, not bluffing,
“She’ll spread your cheeks and pack your rear with stuffing.”

Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat,
I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat,

And decided on the spot that to avoid being cooked,
I’d have to lay low and remain overlooked.

I began a new diet of nuts and granola,
High-roughage salads, juice, and diet cola;

And as they ate pastries, chocolates, and crepes,
I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes.

I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half,
And tried not to notice when the bigger birds laughed;

But ’twas I who was laughing, under my breath,
As they chomped and they chewed, ever closer to death.

And sure enough, when Black November rolled around,
I was the last turkey left in the entire compound.

So now I’m a pet in the farmer’s wife’s lap;
I haven’t a worry, so I eat and I nap.

She held me today, while sewing and humming,
And smiled at me and said, “Christmas is coming…”

Happy Thanksgiving

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When I say "I am a Christian"

October 9, 2006 at 9:58 pm · Filed under Devotional, Internet, Leadership, Poetry, Spiritual Growth

Once in awhile an e-mail forward actually contains something encouraging instead of spams or scams or jokes or urban legends. If you forward this to everyone in your address book, Bill Gates will NOT send you a dollar for each one. And no, nothing bad will happen to you if you don’t e-mail this to ten friends!

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not shouting “I’m clean livin’.”
I’m whispering “I was lost,
Now I’m found and forgiven.”

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I don’t speak of this with pride.
I’m confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not trying to be strong.
I’m professing that I’m weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not bragging of success.
I’m admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not holier than thou,
I’m just a simple sinner
Who received God’s good grace, somehow!

by Carol Wimmer
www.carolwimmer.com

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