Repurposed: Of Coffee Tables And Lives

My woodworking work is a work in progress.

For the past few weeks I've taken on a project that is challenging me in ways I'm not used to being challenged. I'm dabbling in woodworking and making a coffee table -- that you see above -- out of 50-year-old white oak wood flooring we yanked out of our kitchen during a remodel. I'm not sure what got into me. I'm partly blaming Pinterest. Yes, Pinterest. I saw some things on there involving creative uses of reclaimed wood that caught my eye and thought, "I could do that."

Or could I?

We shall see.

I came up with this idea to stain the old tongue and groove hardwood flooring different hues before reassembling it into a table. Perhaps the fact that I rendered our previous coffee table virtually irreparable during our last move has something to do with it. Perhaps a few stresses of life contributed. For example, with 13 people living in a 1,600-square-foot, three-bedroom, two-bath home, certain stresses can arise. Just think about the meals for a moment. Every breakfast, lunch and dinner involves 13 meals. That's 39 per day, or 273 per week, without including the obligatory snacking that goes on. Does that sound like a lot? Imagine that level of meal planning ... interested in becoming our chef? Imagine that level of dish washing ... come to our house to practice dish washing and you'll leave with a Ph.D. So yeah, maybe I needed a creative outlet for something that didn't involve cooking 4,732 dinners over the course of a year.

So naturally to unwind and get my creative juices flowing I decided to manufacture a coffee table out of the old hardwood flooring in our kitchen. As you can see, I am well on my way. Truly, I am not sure what got into me to tackle this. I've dabbled in woodworking over the years as part of our various home remodels. From crown molding on cabinets, to manufacturing an entertainment center, to a fireplace mantel, I've tackled a few projects that involve wood, nail guns, wood glue, a table saw and a compound miter saw. Nothing along the lines of this, though. Here's what I love about it, though. I'm taking these old, tired, worn down pieces of wood and breathing new life into them in an altogether new life and purpose. This project is coaxing a fresh, striking vibrancy out of the pallid and listless. Hmmmm. Maybe it's just me, but this project has the makings of a metaphor. Followers of Jesus Christ know what I'm talking about, eh?

Three Things Daily Bible Reading Teaches Your Kids

Madeline leads worship during a recent Calvary Chapel Gloucester baptism.

Way back in 1992 in the dusty eastern Oregon border town of Ontario, we stumbled upon Calvary Chapel. We loved the church and found it refreshing that the key element was the Bible and teaching through it verse by verse, chapter by chapter, book by book. Over the years we have attended or visited many Calvary Chapels. Now I pastor a Calvary Chapel and our family is very involved in the church, with Brenton the assistant pastor and other Sabos at various times leading worship, teaching in children's ministry, leading Bible studies and serving in other capacities.

One of the primary distinctives of Calvary Chapel is its emphasis on the Bible. We hold the Bible in high regard and consider it required reading around the Sabo house. Although we don't "make" any of our kids read the Bible daily, I know that those of the reading age take the time pretty much daily to read it. I was talking to Brenton about this earlier tonight to get his thoughts on why it's important for youth to read the Bible and what it teaches them. Here's a few thoughts.

1) Reading the Bible daily teaches discipline. The Christian life is one of discipline. Prayer, Bible reading, worship and meditating on God's word are all disciplines that separate the casual believer from one who is fervently following Jesus. It blesses me so much to see my children, even as young as elementary school age, reading the Bible daily right before bed, or in the morning when they first get up. No one asks them to do it, but they see examples set by their parents and older siblings. Being in the Word from a young age will mature them beyond their years and they will learn a discipline that is a vital part of their faith. The maturity in faith that comes from reading and knowing the Bible will extend to other areas of their lives and you will see them own their faith in Jesus from a young age.

2) Reading the Bible daily makes God's Word come alive. More than simply knowing the stories and characters of the Bible, devotional reading helps youth understand how God's Word is alive and applies to their life today. They can see how God worked through history as part of His plan to bless and save humanity through His Son and they can translate that to God working in their own lives. If they see God working in their lives, they believe He has a purpose for their lives and will be able to navigate the inevitable trials and tribulations of life because they are tethered to Jesus. A key component of having God's Word be alive and dynamic is that the Bible comes into play as a key component to making decisions. When youth learn to make decisions based on truths from the Bible they read and can apply to their lives, they are light years ahead of most adults I know -- even those in the church who aren't equipped to make good decisions because they rarely, if ever, open a Bible.

3) Reading the Bible daily serves as a counter-balance to the world. Kids these days are buffeted by an extraordinary amount of worldly enticements designed to influence their behavior. Media, advertising, technology, even the lure of sports and other passions, can all pull kids away from their walk with Jesus. Reading the Bible serves as the anchor for kids, linking them firmly and steadfastly to their Savior, Jesus Christ. One of my sons was telling a story about a friend of his in college whose life has seen remarkable maturity in faith. The difference? Even though he was a churchgoing lad and participated in his youth group at his church, he said he didn't really care to read the Bible. Since heading off to college, he started getting into God's Word and it's a key component to his new found Christian maturity.

No doubt I can come up with a whole host of other things that daily Bible reading teaches our kids. But one last thought: Name something else that would be a better way for your child to spend his or her time.

Spending Thanksgiving In Africa

Shooting some video in Haiti

On the Saturday before Thanksgiving I am scheduled to fly to Nigeria on a two-week missions trip to a place that's made international news for the violence perpetrated by Muslim terrorists targeting Christians. I will be heading to Jos, where the missions organization I work for is operating in a school providing Christ-centered education and computer skills. It will be an honor to meet the educators and students in Jos who have been undeterred in the face of the relentless onslaught of violence fomented by Boko Haram.

We are expecting up to 100 educators to gather for TEN3 workshops at the 2014 Transformational Education -- Nigeria event. Later, I will be traveling to outlying communities where TEN3 hopes to launch computer training outreaches. I will be shooting video, interviewing, writing stories and shooting photographs for TEN3.

Last week I put together a 60-second video for TEN3 using video footage and photographs from two of my missions trips to Cap-Haitien, Haiti, and TEN3 staff photographs from Zambia and Nigeria. For a little flavor of what I'll experience, check out the video here:  TEN3 Missions Video

I would also appreciate your prayers for the trip. Pray for the safety of all of us and that God will be glorified in our time in Nigeria as we bring the hope of Jesus and Christ-centered education to a place in the world that desperately needs it.

When Things Get Crazy Around The S'mores Campfire

Seth rocked the cuteness factor around the campfire.

The other night the Sabos partook of the quintessential American camping experience. That's right, we made a campfire and roasted up some S'mores. In the ditch in our front yard. One of the best things about moving away from our old neighborhood in Gloucester to our new digs in metropolitan Hayes/Gloucester Point/Wicomico (I'm never sure where the outskirts of Hayes or Gloucester Point collide with the inskirts of Wicomico) is that we left the HOA behind. Because I'm pretty sure the HOA cops would have been all over us if we had tried to build a campfire in our ditch in our front yard and made S'mores. Unless maybe we would've shared with them.

Anyway, I'm happy to report that the only things that caught fire other than the wood we used to feed the Sabo campfire were marshmallows. Despite Judah's best intentions. A time or two his flaming 'mallows came dangerously close to flammable and combustible materials -- for example his sisters' hair -- but some quick action by Taylor managed to defuse -- literally -- any potential hair fires. Unfortunately, it seems that some elements of the Sabo family used the excuse of a family campfire to sort of terrorize the neighbors. Let me explain.

Before things got really crazy around the campfire.

The campfire was still ablaze when Julie and I had retired to the comforts of our home, content in the knowledge that the kids were under adult supervision (Taylor, his girlfriend Bethany, Evie, MerriGrace and the like) and having an enjoyable time making tasty campfire treats. Or so we thought. I'm not sure who came up with the brilliant idea, but it seems once the Hershey's chocolate bars and marshmallows all but burned up, or got devoured, someone decided that the appropriate thing to do was to dance crazily around the campfire and chant when someone drove by in their car. Not only that, but they decided collectively that they should go fetch our bunny "Flopsy" from her rabbit hutch and have someone hold her above their head as they danced as if it were some sort of crazed Gloucester ritual.

Apparently there were cars that drove by -- slowly -- when this was going on. One even stopped just down the road. When they related this story to me and after I quit nearly busting a gut from laughter I lectured them about how people already think we're a little bit `off' because we have so many kids. Now this? Now what will people think? Well, being a stand up guy who takes responsibility for his family, I have to say it was the older kids' fault. I also have to say, I wish I could have been there to see it stop the shenanigans. It does explain one thing though. I understand why I've seen beefed up police patrols in our neighborhood.

Four Things That Happen When The Kids Come Home From College

Taylor proclaims his innocence: "What?"

You can count on four things happening in the Sabo house when our kids come home from college for the weekend. The first thing is that food consumption is taken to the next level. This past weekend, Taylor came home from Berea College in Kentucky since they are on fall break and he brought his lovely girlfriend Bethany Hayes. Then Ethan sauntered over on Saturday from Hampden-Sydney College and stayed the night.

With Taylor and Ethan home, that means the Sabo cafeteria is open pretty much 24/7. I planned accordingly and rented a U-Haul truck to make the obligatory grocery run(s) and received a line of credit from the bank and transformed the garage into a walk-in cooler. (Editor's note: This is non-fiction? Did I miss something or did any of those things you just describe actually happen?) Even then, we cut it a little close judging from the look of the fridge on Monday morning. But a family that eats together (albeit in waves of relentless consumption ... picture the Chinese Army attacking our fridge and you get the idea) is a family that bonds together.

The second thing you can count on when the kids come home is that laughter echoes through the house non-stop. The board games come out after dinner and it's pretty much a laughfest from then until the wee hours of the morning. The laughing only stops when there's a pause for a run on the fridge. On Saturday night they played the "Story Game" and Skyped in Claire from Oregon. It was a riot. Julie was in bed and laughing just at all the laughing. I was laughing even though my beloved UCLA Bruins were playing football on TV and they were losing. That means one thing: It was seriously funny. If you are feeling down and blue, you don't need a shrink. Come on over for game night at the House o' Sabo. You may die of laughter, but at least you'll be happy.

Taylor offers his bestest most sincerest sorry for destroying Brenton's foot

The third thing that occurs is the inevitable massive Sabo v. Sabo ultimate soccer match on the Sabo back yard pitch. The best thing about having like, twenty-five kids (Editor's note: Um, twenty-five? Try fourteen. You really need to quit exaggerating my love ... Author's reply: It's only 14? Seriously? Love you my love.) is that you can have a really solid soccer match in the back yard when the kids come from college. You can even have one when the kids don't come from college! It's a very entertaining affair, complete with copious goal-scoring, lots of laughing and the occasionally fractured leg, er "injury" (Editor's note: Technically it's called "diving" ...) that is a hallmark of world class soccer. Brenton was hurt so seriously in the match he had to be hauled off on a cart, but fortunately he was soon able to resume competitive soccer ran right back onto the field as soon as he hit the sideline. In the end, a good time was had by all, particularly the spectators who nearly busted a gut watching the theatrics that occurred during Brenton's "injury."

Brenton is delicately hauled off the field for his potentially fatal soccer injury

The fourth thing that occurs is that Calvary Chapel Gloucester is very blessed by the guest worship team. Taylor, Ethan and Bethany, joined by Madeline, blessed the fellowship with a wonderful time of worship and praise. One of the highlights of the weekends when the kids come home is that music frequently fills the Sabo house. On Saturday in particular, when the group was preparing the worship set, it was wonderful to sit and enjoy hearing them singing praise songs to the Lord. I am a blessed man. We are a blessed family.

When My Daughter Writes Beautiful Essays

Evie Joy

My lovely daughter Evie Joy, or Evie as we all call her, is a talented artist and writer. I love her creativity and her passion for art and writing. She polished off this college admission essay last night and Julie happened to read it then read it to our family. It is wonderful. It brought tears to her mama's eyes. I hope you enjoy it and are as blessed as much as we were. I love you Evie!

Home

I always sit in the front row, usually one or more of my sisters are with me. There are always a multitude of sounds: a rich voice pouring out words read from a worn, tearing notebook, two little newborns cooing or crying gently in the back, faraway laughter and happy shouting that lands faintly on all our ears, sometimes I hear a gentle laughter bubbling forth from us, the audience, sometimes murmurs of agreement, sometimes there are tears, but most of us don’t really notice these sounds; we are too busy listening to the voice and following along to the ancient words he’s reciting. 
The rows are sparse, there are not many people on a given day, but we are clustered together, leaning in to one another to whisper our thoughts or scrawl little notes in the margins of each other’s Bibles. There are some people who wear dresses or dress shirts with ties, some people might wear a dressy-casual attire, there are a few who come in jeans and t-shirts, but there are no cliques among us. Looking out at us, one could see us in an array of colors of diversity, we all are starkly unique from the rest. There are large families that sit together, single moms with a few children in tow, young families that have a baby or two with them, young adults that cluster near each other, and excited middle schoolers that have just graduated from “little kid class.”  We are an informal group; we are not afraid to poke good fun at each other, we are not afraid to laugh at ourselves. 
The man is at the podium, most days in khakis with a button-up shirt. He usually wears a smile that can easily turn into a smirk whenever he attempts to make a joke. Attempting meaning that he makes a joke, and after a long moment of silence our sound man will play a track of crickets chirping, and then we all laugh. He takes a moment to laugh at himself along with us and returns to the story. I pretend I am immune to his jokes, but you see I find puns funny seemingly against my will. He’ll take time in his sermon to share something from his life that proves, contrary to what we would like to believe, that pastors deal with the same struggles we do. He’ll rub his bald head tiredly as he points out a convicting area of scripture, he’ll laugh at the unexpected triumph a character in the story had. The man at the podium is my dad, and he stands there every sunday morning reading and teaching from his Bible. I lost track of how many times he’s bought a new Bible because his has fallen apart—his favorite pages slipping out, running out of room to write in the margins, and having to duct tape the binding together—and most times I find myself getting lost in the words as well. Whether the teaching is on an Old Testament prophet called to tell Israel their sin or a widow putting her two mites into the offering cup because it’s all she has, the sermon never fails to both convict and encourage me. 
After he is done teaching, my brother steps up to the podium with a guitar in his hand; he is going to lead us in one last song to end the sermon. His voice carries throughout the sanctuary, singing out the words that wash over us as praises to our Savior. His voice is high and happy, filled with a kind of emotion that nobody could be immune to. He often dresses down, almost opposite my dad. At twenty-five he wears t-shirts he’s had since high school from various church camps and simple blue jeans. He is an excellent worship leader and a gifted teacher. He usually closes his eyes and strums the guitar he’s known and loved since middle school and we all stand and worship together, singing out praise songs together. The last song of the service is most often the most meaningful to me because it is after I have heard what God has said to me through my dad, the pastor, and I am ready to start a new week in light of what I had just learned. 
After the service is over we go out into the foyer for coffee and fellowship. Fellowship comes from a Greek word that means communion, contribution, and distribution. We stand together with coffee in our hands as we share about our week, about what God taught us, about how it was encouraging or discouraging or eye-opening or hard. We listen to others share and perhaps we’ll offer advice or encouragement. I have seen many people prayed over during fellowship, sometimes I’m in the group praying and sometimes I’m the one being prayed over. We laugh together, we cry together, we might share deep things, we might share light things, but we are always there for each other. We commune together, we contribute to each other’s lives, we distribute our thoughts. We are a church, but we are also a family.
I am close to everyone that goes to my church, the older adults are like my grandparents, the middling adults are like my aunts and uncles, the young adults are my brothers and sisters, and the young children running around are my nieces and nephews or my little brothers and sisters. I feel comfortable enough to share the hard things I’m going through and I love to praise and rejoice with my family. I believe that church is about people coming together to praise God, read the Bible and hear the pastor’s teaching, and fellowship together. I feel as though my church fulfills all of these, and church is the place I always feel the most comfortable.

I am the most content at church because it is full of people who care for me and who I care for, it is a place of learning and growing, and it is full of God. As soon as I walk into that building I feel God’s presence as if he was there with us, sitting next to me as we begin worship, lending a comforting shoulder as I cry about the struggles in my life, there with us as we pray for one another, standing amongst us as we share with one another. I can’t imagine going many sundays together without once going to church. I hear the Word of God and it teaches me, I commune with my fellow believers and it encourages me, I worship God in song and it blesses me. Every sunday feels like a family reunion. My church is like my home to me, and I find that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Fighting Ebola Empty-Handed And A World Away

Imagine a world where you can't leave your house because death lurks outside the door. Imagine a world where the body of your neighbor rots in the stifling heat and gathers flies inside her door and no one comes to take it away for a proper burial because surely they would die as well. It's hard to imagine because we can't. It's virtually impossible for us in America to take our mind to a place where life is truly but a vapor, a visible wisp of matter that can be extinguished seemingly in an instant.

This is life across a wide swath of West Africa, where the ebola virus has brought death to the doors of thousands of families in Liberia, Guinea and Sierra Leone. We've all read or heard the reports of ebola through media, with the latest alarming news that more than 1 million people could be afflicted with the virus by early next year. My personal knowledge of ebola comes through Rev. Samuel Kargbo, a minister in Sierra Leone who we have been working with in TEN3 (I am communications manager for the Transformational Education Network, or TEN3) to establish one of our computer training outreach classes at his school. Those plans have been put on hold as the ebola crisis deepens in Sierra Leone.

Last week, I received an email from Rev. Kargbo, who thanked me for praying for him and his family. It is a very terrible thing to see neighbors around you dying from a disease, he wrote. So far, he has lost three close relatives who live nearby. There are many dead bodies lying in houses -- four, more or less, in some houses, he wrote.

Rev. Kargbo continues: "The sad thing that has happened is this: since as I told you last the government could not meet the needs of the affected cases, quarantined families, the wife of my relative who died yesterday, his 22-month-old daughter, and two ward children have left the house without being quarantined. Who knows what may happen to the people they come in contact with? We pray that they never contracted the virus, but if they did, then it is obvious they will definitely pass the virus to other people."

Rev. Kargbo describes how the surviving relatives scattered to different parts of the city and country the morning of Sept. 23. He also describes what has transpired over the past two weeks. "Five people have died in connection to the same first victim that died on Wednesday, September 10," he writes. "Two of the women are neighbors who took care of the corpse before burial. We called the 117 number that is given to us and the burial team's number but nobody came to bury the first corpse.

"We (my wife and I) have discussed about how we could intervene but we could not because the lady had left the house this morning before we could send food stuff there. We have called her to come back to the house as soon as possible so that we could share from the little that we have. That is what the Bible says is true religion, taking care of the orphans and widows. As stated earlier, due to several factors, the citizens’ needs could not be adequately addressed in this crisis time, except friends and relatives step in to alleviate the suffering and deaths. One corpse that is said to have died four days before the burial team came to collect it and one infected person were collected three days ago close to our house. We do not want to do that but we have restricted the inflow of children into our compound to play. One way that we could be further involved in helping to save lives, especially lives of those relative who have left for the village, the wife and the baby is by assisting them with food items and restrict their movements for three weeks and see if they will report sick. If any one of them reports sick we will guide them going to the hospital for the test to find out if it is ebola. According to the teaching we receive, early detection and early treatment gives hope to the affected victim to survive."

He closes the email by saying he has temporarily closed his school for three weeks to assess the situation. At that point he will reassess the crisis and determine if the school should remain closed. So far, three of his students have fallen ill, Rev. Kargbo wrote. None of them have ebola, however.

I have asked him how I can help but the situation is so dire and chaotic in Sierra Leone that it doesn't appear there's anything I can do. Except pray. This week, my supporting agency for my mission work, Serving In Mission, has called for believers to have a week of prayer for the end of the ebola crisis in West Africa. Remember people such as Rev. Kargbo in your prayers. Remember the countries of West Africa. Remember Psalm 46:1: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."