I recently found a book with this title in our corps’ library. Those who know me recognize my affinity for trivia and so understand that this book was written just for me. Its 560 pages are jammed with fascinating nonsense about the best, worst and most unusual people, lifestyles, food, music, laws and sports, to name just a few subjects.

For example, under “The Law,” the best law is found in Little Rock, Ark., where dogs are prohibited from barking after 6 p.m. The best forger was William E. Brockway, who, in 1865, printed a bogus $100 bill so perfect that the Treasury Department had no option but to withdraw all genuine $100 bills from circulation.

The worst act of diplomacy came during the Middle East war of 1948 when Warren Austin, the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations urged Arabs and Jews to resolve their disagreements “like good Christians.” The worst prize fight took place in New Orleans in 1870 when Englishman Jim Mace and American Joe Coburn danced around each other for three hours and 48 minutes without landing a single punch.

In the “Government” chapter, Calvin Coolidge is cited for best scare tactics, because he used to hide in the White House shrubbery, then jump out and scare unsuspecting Secret Service agents. The most unusual bank is located in Vernal, Utah, where the local bank building was made from bricks sent through the mail. In 1919, the people of Vernal discovered that it cost less to mail the bricks from Salt Lake City, seven to a package, than to have them shipped commercially.

So we come to this wonderful season of officer moves. As you read this, many of my colleagues are up to their eyeballs in packing tape and boxes. It is surprising that people who should have few possessions to call their own end up with truckloads of boxes that get carted from one place to the next, and the contents often never see the light of day. We found that the 30 cartons of books we once had now fit into my iPad. The dishes we were carefully preserving for our retirement brought some much needed revenue to the thrift store. And all those shoes we never wear any more have gone into the “Saving Soles” bin at our corps to generate funds for World Services.

Of course, eventually all these officers will arrive at their new appointments, fresh and eager, ready to win the world for Jesus. For many it will be their best appointment. When anyone asks me about my best appointment, I always tell them it is the one I am in now.

Maybe a few will find themselves at their worst appointment. I hope not, but if they do they can take heart—it can only get better from here. And even in our worst appointments, God teaches us amazing truths about ourselves and himself that help us to grow in our walk of faith.

Lastly, there will be a few who find themselves in the most unusual appointment of their officership. It certainly will not be any more unusual than Ezekiel who was appointed to lie on his left side for 390 days, and then turn over to his right side for another 40 days, facing Jerusalem and surviving on bread and water!

We pray that our colleagues will find inexpressible joy in serving God wherever they have been appointed. May God use them powerfully and significantly to impact their corps and their community. May they always have a burning desire to win the world for Jesus. And may they shine like the brightness of the firmament; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever (Dan. 12:3 RSV).

The Long Beach Grand Prix is finally over and the streets of the city can get back to normal. For the past two or three weeks, there has been a restriction on turning left from Pine Avenue onto Ocean Boulevard. Meaning those of us at DHQ and THQ must go right on Ocean and then make a U-turn at the first opportunity. However, it is amazing how many THQ and DHQ drivers I saw ignoring the “no left turn” sign and zipping over to the left lane. I never saw anyone get a ticket, but a lot of us ignored the warning sign.

I’ve seen many funny warning signs. In Singapore we saw people sheltering under palm trees beside signs that said, “Beware of falling coconuts.” There is a sign in a church (not Salvation Army) that says, “WARNING—articles of value should not be left on seats when receiving Holy Communion.” The Newcastle (Australia) Tramway Authority posted signs that said, “Touching wires causes instant death—$200 fine.” Then there was one sign which said, “Violators will be towed and fined $50.” That should cover the cost of towing. A sign in Myanmar reads, “Please do not sit on crocodile,” and my favorite says, “Children left unattended will be sold to the circus.”

Life has its warning signs too. I have noticed as I get older my body is giving me more and more serious warnings every year. Recently, I have discovered I can no longer race my granddaughter on a scooter, nor can I eat an ice cream sundae at bedtime and expect my blood sugar to be normal.

The Bible has plenty of warning signs. Israel was told many times in the Old Testament about what would happen if they disobeyed God’s commands–and for the most part, they ignored them. Perhaps one of the most serious in our day is found in Revelation 22:18, I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: If anyone adds anything to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book. And if anyone takes words away from this book of prophecy, God will take away from him his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book.

Ah, yes! I can hear you say, but that only applies to the book of Revelation. Then turn to Deuteronomy 12:32, “See that you do all I command you; do not add to it or take away from it.” And in Deuteronomy 4:2 Moses says, “Do not add to what I command you and  do not subtract from it, but keep the commands of the Lord your God that I give you.”

God’s word was written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and has never changed and never will. What God has decreed as sin, is still sin. So we are warned by God not to mess with it. Not to try to make it agree with our opinions, or fit into our culture. Culture cannot change the Word of God, but the Word of God can and must be used to change culture.

One final warning from Leonard Ravenhill, “If the whole church goes off into deception, that will in no way excuse us for not following Christ.” Christ trumps culture. Don’t take my word for it, take God’s Word.

Brown paper bags have been on my mind lately.

I have discovered that every year Americans use about 10 billion of them, for which we cut down 14 million trees. And they are definitely less eco-friendly than plastic bags. Four times the amount of energy is used in manufacturing paper bags vs. plastic ones, and 98 percent more energy is used to recycle them. They also create 70 percent more pollutants than plastic bags.

“Brown Paper Bag” was a popular rap song in the 1990s, although the lyrics are morally questionable. I also found that Brown Paper Bag is the name of an event planning company in Glasgow, Ken., and an interior design company in San Pedro, Calif. You can steam vegetables in a brown paper bag, and a software design error was once called a brown-paper-bag bug because culprits would wear one over their head to avoid being recognized.

As you can see, brown paper bags have been on my mind lately.

Although these facts are fascinating—well, they are to a trivia buff like me—there is another reason that brown paper bags have been on my mind. Recently, a gentleman walked into our corps office and asked to speak to someone about a donation. In his hand he was holding—you guessed it—a brown paper bag! Most of us would have believed it to contain his lunch. Maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple and a carton of juice. Or maybe it was his groceries: a carton of milk, a loaf of bread, some cheese and crackers. However, when he handed it over, inside we found $713 in $1 bills. Some lunch! The gentleman refused a receipt and quickly left before he could be further questioned.

Brown paper bags have been used to carry our groceries or our lunches for a long time, but I realized that now we need to change how we think about them. God used a humble brown paper bag and an anonymous gentleman to bless our corps. It reminded me of Jesus feeding the multitude. He took a small boy’s lunch of five loaves and two fish, maybe from the biblical equivalent of a brown paper bag, and multiplied them to provide lunch for 5,000 men, plus countless women and children, who had come to hear his message. It was a great demonstration of how God can do so much with so little, and how he blesses the faithfulness of his followers in ways we can never imagine.

Deuteronomy 7:13 says, He will love you and bless you and increase your numbers. He will bless the fruit of your womb, the crops of your land—your grain, new wine and olive oil—the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks in the land he swore to your ancestors to give you (TNIV).

Never judge a brown paper bag by its color—judge it by its contents.

We have often visited places where famous people were born or died. We once stood outside the house where William Shakespeare was born in Stratford-on-Avon. We have walked through the cottage where the Scots poet Robert Burns was born and spent his early years. Recently, the remains of King Richard III were unearthed in a municipal parking lot in Leicester where he was buried 528 years ago. Of course it wasn’t a parking lot then!

In Israel, though, nothing is quite so definite. The tour guide would often say, “This is the traditional site of…” or, “This might be the location of … .” In one day we saw two possible sites for Jesus’ tomb. One was in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in the Christian Quarter of Old Jerusalem. Since A.D. 400, this site has been claimed as the location of both the tomb and Calvary. The other site was the Garden Tomb, discovered outside the Old City in the 19th century. It certainly looked authentic, and a nearby rock face that looked eerily like a skull added to the moment. But the bus station in front of it spoiled the effect.

We didn’t visit Roza Bal in India, location of the grave of Yuz Asaf, or “son of Joseph.” Nor did we go to the Tomb of Jesus in Shingo, Japan, where, according to legend, Jesus died at age 106 after escaping crucifixion in Jerusalem.

Actually, it seems that no one knows with certainty where anything happened. Standing on Mount Nebo in Jordan and surveying the Promised Land before us, we were told that this might have been where Moses stood before God took him away to bury him. But it could have been another mountain nearby.

In Galilee, we saw where Jesus might have given the Sermon on the Mount—but it could have been a little further inland, or on the other side of the road. We picked up stones in a dry riverbed that might have been where David fought Goliath, or possibly it was further to the east, or maybe to the west. Even in lowly Bethlehem, we were ushered through a gaudily decorated church into an underground area reputed to be the cave where Mary gave birth to Jesus. But no one is sure.

Why the uncertainty? Why is no one definite about the places where Jesus was born, lived, ministered, died and rose again? The reason became clear as we watched pilgrims rubbing pieces of cloth or tissue paper on the Stone of Anointing, traditionally the place where Joseph of Arimathea prepared Jesus for his burial. Even with such uncertainty, many of these sites have been turned into shrines of worship and holy pilgrimage. If we knew exactly and with absolute certainty where Jesus died, that location would be worshiped more than Christ himself.

The Bible says, Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith (Heb. 12:2, NIV). That’s what really matters. Everything else will fade away, erode and disappear, but our faith and trust in the eternal Jesus will bring eternal rewards. We have an opportunity at Easter to focus on Jesus, to let him live in the center of our lives.

Actually, we have that opportunity every day, and we don’t need rocks and stones and places that could-have-been or might-have-been to do that. All we need to do is fix our spiritual eyes on him and allow him full reign in our lives.

May God shower you with his amazing blessings as you worship him this Easter.

The topic of ages came up in a meeting at divisional headquarters when my wife, Isobel, said about me, “Well, Ian’s almost 70!” It took a few seconds to sink in before I blustered, “What do you mean? I’m not even 65!” Isobel always rounds up, especially when it comes to my age.

As children, we were always very precise. “I am 6 and three quarters.” Then we became teenagers and it was, “I am almost 18.” We went through the 20-something and 30-something stage until we hit 40, when we suddenly went back to being 39. I don’t remember being anything in my 50s, and 60 was the new 40. However, I have a feeling that in my 70s and 80s (if Jesus doesn’t come first) I will go back to being very precise—if I can remember my age at all!

As I was putting gas in my car, I was reminded of the opposite of rounding up. The gas station boldly and proudly proclaimed in large figures that I would be paying $3.799 for every gallon I pumped. If I only pumped one gallon, how would I pay the nine-tenths of a cent? I suppose they would round up.

It seems this practice of fractional pricing started 90 years ago when a penny was really worth something, and gas was less than a dime a gallon. It’s supposed to make me feel better than if I were paying $3.80 a gallon, which of course I really am. In 1980 the state of Iowa tried to do away with the fractions but reinstated them in 1984 due to public protest!

What if Christians fractionalized their response to God? “Lord, I’ll give you 99.9 percent of my self.” Or, “Lord, please accept my 9.9 percent tithe.” What if Jesus had said on the cross, “My death will forgive 99 percent of your sins.” Without complete forgiveness of all our sins we would not enter heaven. Or, what if he said, “I will forgive only 99 percent of those who ask”?

Jesus says, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment” (Matt. 22:37, 38 NIV).

A pastor I once listened to said, “All is all and that’s all all means!”

Herbert Howard Booth wrote:

            I bring my all to Jesus; he hath seen

            How my soul desireth to be clean.

             Nothing from his altar I withhold

             When his cross of suffering I behold;

              And the fire descending brings to me Liberty.

              (Salvation Army Song Book 420)

Round it up. Make it 100 percent. Bring your all to the altar and reap the harvest of righteousness that waits for you there.

I am man enough to admit that I cry at the finale of “Extreme Home Makeover.”

When Ty yells, “Move that bus!” and I watch the faces of the families as they witness the transformation of their run-down, dysfunctional mess of a home to a modern, glittering palace, the tears begin to form. Then, as they walk from room to room, the squeals of the children and the emotional responses of their parents and the team turn my tears into a river. Come on, I know you cry, too!

The ARAMARK Corporation’s Uniform Division has transformed many Salvation Army corps and programs over the past five years. Most recently it was Glendale’s (Calif.) turn, and when we showed up we found over 100 ARAMARK staff and volunteers from City Year scurrying around painting, decorating, hammering, building and finishing the corridors, offices, food pantry and gymnasium.

And what a difference they made! There is no other way to describe it than as an “Extreme Corps Makeover.” From the murals on the gym walls to the solid wooden shelving in the food pantry, these dedicated volunteers brought energy and vitality to Glendale, and we are extremely (pun intended) grateful to them. We truly thank God for partners such as ARAMARK. Incidentally, they also play a major role in the L.A. Red Shield Center’s annual Thanksgiving meal where over 2,000 people receive a wonderful dinner and entertainment at the L.A. Convention Center.

Of course, Christmas always reminds me of the ultimate extreme home makeover. When Jesus entered this world it was to a smelly, dirty stable with a manger for his bed and cattle as witnesses. Talk about a run-down, dysfunctional mess. But after his death and resurrection he ascended to a heavenly home that is beyond our wildest imagination. And his Word promises that one day we will go there to be with him. No matter where you live now, it is a slum compared with our heavenly home. Just read the real estate description in Revelation 21 and see how it compares with your place. That is extreme.

The Christmas story also brought about another extreme home makeover. Because of Christ’s amazing sacrifice, when we put our faith in him we are given the gift of the Holy Spirit in our lives. The Bible says, We are the temple of the living God (2 Cor. 6:16). It also says we become new creations, living, walking and talking representations of Jesus Christ on earth. From sinners to saints.

If you are in the L.A. area, I invite you to celebrate your extreme makeover with us Dec. 16 at 7 p.m. in the Carpenter Center for Performing Arts on the campus of Long Beach State University. The Southern California Division is presenting “Night of Wonder,” an evening of carols, Bible readings and music with a message from General John Larsson (Ret). The cost is only $10 and participants include the massed songsters of Long Beach Citadel, Pasadena Tabernacle, Torrance and Tustin Ranch corps, the divisional brass band, Torrance singing company and vocalist Marianna Kleeman from the Whittier Corps.

Bring a friend who needs an extreme spiritual makeover. I will see you there; I’ll be the one with tears in my eyes.

An early morning drive on the 110 freeway north into Los Angeles is not the best start to anyone’s day. But what was waiting at the end of the trip made it all worthwhile—and then some. I was on my way to dedicate Sally’s Place, a breakfast program for seniors at the Los Angeles Central Corps, and despite the traffic, the great Southern California weather and Alistair Begg on the radio eased my journey.

When Majors Lex and Patricia Giron arrived at the Los Angeles Central Corps three years ago they noticed an immediate and obvious difference from their previous appointment. The Santa Ana Corps is surrounded by a community of single family homes, duplexes, apartment complexes and schools. LA Central lies in the shadow of LA Live, skyscraper hotels, office buildings and the Convention Center. The few houses nearby were occupied mostly by senior citizens who had minimal services available to them, so the Girons started a breakfast program for a handful of them on Friday mornings. Gradually the program grew as word got out and pretty soon they were serving 50-60 people. They gave out food from the Los Angeles Food Bank after breakfast, ensuring these elderly citizens would have nutritious meals during the week.

On that particular Friday, over 140 people came for a breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage and pastries. There was even a massive chocolate cake that was gone before I could even smell it. A small army of staff and volunteers helped cook and serve the meal. Among them was Mei from China who spoke no English but still managed to communicate, showing me photographs of herself in a Red Army uniform, then pictures of her beautiful American grandchildren.

As I walked around the tables talking to diners, I realized this was no ordinary breakfast. There were people from Mexico, Guatemala and El Salvador, as you might expect at LA Central. Others were from China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Korea and the Philippines. I found a family from Poland and even a Russian in the crowd. Singles, couples, families and children being looked after by their grandparents made up this United Nations of LA Central.

Then I met Ned who came from Ireland. Now in his 70s, he has lived all over the U.S., arriving in Los Angeles about two years ago. With no family or friends, he somehow found the breakfast program and now claims it as his family. He enjoys the diversity and the good food, but it is the Christian love and care that mean most to him. Ned loves LA Central so much he comes to the worship service on Sunday morning and is learning Spanish so he can understand what is going on.

And so it was, after a long drive in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I found myself standing before this United Nations breakfast meeting sharing an evangelical message from God’s Word, then offering a prayer of dedication for Sally’s Place. As I shook hands with them afterward I was in no doubt that God laid this program on the hearts of the Girons three years ago. After all, God’s promise to Israel is just as valid for us today when he said, “I am your God and will take care of you until you are old and your hair is gray. I made you and will care for you; I will give you help and rescue you” (Isa. 46:4 GNB).

God is taking care of the citizens of Los Angeles at Sally’s Place, no matter where they come from. We are all God’s children.

I am a great admirer of do-it-yourself experts. I love watching them fix or install things with ease and confidence. For many years, my home corps has sent a work team to Alaska, and I am impressed by the accomplishments. They add a room here, extend a kitchen there, fix up the quarters or the Army hall, put up a new roof or floor, install appliances and generally spruce things up significantly. And somehow they still have time to go fishing! We often enjoy the fruit—or rather the salmon—of their labor when they get back.

When we moved into our quarters about two years ago, we bought a new shower rail. Yet as a consummate procrastinator, I am only now getting around to installing it.

On Saturday morning I finally decided to take the shower rail out of its box and attach it to the wall. Armed with my new tool box and cordless drill I set about the task, bringing everything I thought I needed up two flights of stairs from the garage to the upstairs bathroom. I researched how to drill into tile until my wife mentioned the tiles were plastic. Fifteen minutes of hard drilling later I realized they were not plastic but ceramic, and I did not have a suitable drill bit. I then decided to drill above the tile but hit something hard and impenetrable. Start again.

And so it went on for almost three hours and several trips downstairs for additional tools until the rail was finally installed. The decorative cover on one side still hangs loose, a constant reminder of my inadequacy. As I flopped into the chair my wife said, “I guess you won’t be installing a fan in the living room then?” No, I won’t.

What lessons did I learn from this endeavor? One, read the instructions and have all the necessary tools on hand before you begin. Two, wait until your wife is out of the house before you attempt do-it-yourself projects that are beyond your ability. And three, I will never be invited to join the Alaska work team.

The Bible says that each man has his own gift from God; one has this gift, another has that (1 Cor. 7:7 NIV). If we try to do things outside of our giftedness we will probably fail. If you do not have the gift of preaching, your sermons will not make sense. If you do not have the gift of teaching, your classes will be pretty boring. If you do not have the gift of hospitality, you will not invite strangers in for dinner. If you do not have a missionary gift, you will not volunteer for service in Rwanda or Djibouti.

I do not have the gift of craftsmanship; that much is clear. My gifts do include preaching, teaching and missions and so I enjoy crafting sermons or seminars that will engage people with God’s Word, and I relish traveling to distant parts of remote countries to share the gospel.

What’s your gift? Are you using it for God’s glory and kingdom? Or are you still trying too hard and spending too many hours doing something for which you are not gifted? The Apostle Paul told Timothy to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you (2 Tim. 1:6). Simply put, we must identify our gifts then use them wholeheartedly for God’s glory and honor.

Father, fan the flame in me.

I think my first name is pretty easy. There are only three letters, I-A-N, pronounced “ee-yan.” You can’t go far wrong with that, right?

I once had an advisory board member who insisted on calling me “Ee-Yon” no matter how many times I corrected him. People have said “Ain” or the Dutch sounding “Jan,” and I’ve even been called “Ina.” A secretary who used to take messages for me in the PCE (pre-cell phone era) wrote “E.N.” on the slip.

Does anybody know my name?

This introduces an occurrence at this year’s music camp. In several chapel meetings the worship team sang Tommy Walker’s lovely song, “He Knows My Name.” It is a moving worship song and one of my favorites, made all the more poignant because of something that happened a few years ago.

During our time as executive directors of the Peacehaven Nursing Home in Singapore, a man who had been found abandoned on the streets was taken to the mental health hospital and then referred to us for care. He was listed in the health system as “Unknown Unknown.” He lay in a foetal position every day and could not talk or communicate in any way. No one knew his nationality, age, race or language. When we first saw him we knew we couldn’t just call him “Unknown.” The nurses said they called him “Adam Unknown,” so that became his name in our system.

A few months later, worship leader and songwriter Don Moen performed two benefit concerts for Peacehaven (he packed out the 10,000-seat indoor stadium both nights) and we gave him a tour of the nursing home. When we arrived at Adam Unknown’s bed I related his story. Don moved quietly to his bedside, took his hand and prayed over him. Then he began to sing, and his entourage, which included well-known songwriter and musician Lenny LeBlanc, joined in and the room was filled with beautiful harmonious voices singing:

I have a maker

He formed my heart

Before even time began

My life was in his hand

He knows my name

He knows my every thought

He sees each tear that falls

And hears me when I call

As I listened, with tears streaming down my face, I knew that this great song was penetrating the deepest recesses of Adam Unknown’s soul. And as I listened, I prayed that at that moment he would call out to God and his cry would be answered.

Every day our chaplain would go to Adam’s bedside and tell him of Jesus’ love in various languages and dialects. When Adam died the following year, we all knew he went to heaven to be with his Lord and Savior and to enjoy his new body.

Jesus said that God “calls his own sheep by name” (John 10:3). I believe he knew Adam’s name. He knows my name. Does he know yours?

Jesus also said, “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me” (John 10:14). And so let me turn the question around. Do you know him? All you need to do is call to him and he will answer. No recrimination. No condemnation. No cost to you. He will simply come into your life and bring you peace, joy and love—everything you have been searching for. He knows your name.

Development professionals throughout the Western Territory know how difficult it is to raise funds in these challenging times. It can take years of careful cultivation to get a donor to that mysterious point they call “the ask.” Even then the donor might say “No” or give less than expected. It’s a tough business.

A few weeks ago I called a number given to me by one of our officers, Captain Timothy Hsu, San Gabriel, Calif., corps officer. The lady on the other end of the line said the CEO of her company, M.C. Gill Corporation, wanted to make a donation to The Salvation Army. On his instruction she had called the nearest corps, which passed the number to me. We talked briefly about the Youth Learning Center at the San Gabriel Corps, and she said she’d call back after speaking to her boss.

The very next day she called me to say Mr. Gill wanted to make a $25,000 donation to the corps. As I hung up the phone I saw a couple of our major gift officers standing around and just had to tell them how easy their job was. A few days later I drove to El Monte with Divisional Commander Lt. Colonel Doug Riley to pick up the check. To my great surprise and amusement the company was located on Easy Street!

It is ironic that when Captain Hsu gave me M.C. Gill’s phone number he was at Divisional Headquarters to discuss his $25,000 deficit and the possibility of closing the San Gabriel Youth Learning Center!

I know it’s not always that easy. My mother used to tell me, “Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know!” Yet today so many people want to live on Easy Street where you don’t have to work hard, and the money miraculously rolls in. Two characters in the musical “Annie,” Rooster and Miss Hannigan, sing about their sainted mother who told them how to get to Easy Street. “You don’t get there by playing from the rule book. You stack the aces, you load the dice.” How sad it is to watch those who can least afford it throw their money away as they pin their hopes on a lottery ticket or a slot machine. They are more likely to end up on Skid Row than Easy Street.

God never promises us that we will live on Easy Street when we follow him. Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33). Christians are not immune to trials and tribulations. In fact, God’s Word frequently reminds us that this is how God shapes and molds us into his likeness.

There actually is an Easy Street in the Bible, and it’s not hard to find. Despite life’s troubles and struggles, regardless of our personal difficulties and problems, Jesus gives us a wonderful promise in Matthew 11:29-30: “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

That’s the Easy Street where I want to live, don’t you?