Chapter 29: Eric Ludy’s Blog

Ellerslie

Thu, 3 Sep 2009 08:09:27 -0600

This past January, I remember holding my breath and typing “ellerslie” into a domain search online. Sure enough, it was taken. At the time, Leslie and I were out in California with our kiddos and we were spending a season prayerfully waiting on God for direction.
We knew God was leading us to start a training school. In fact, for eighteen years we had known God was someday wanting us to start a training school, but something happened while we were in California earlier this year that moved this long-awaited project forward. God seemed to be saying, “the time is now, Eric and Leslie.”
So, I started typing the name “ellerslie” into the domain search engine. You see, to Leslie and I, Ellerslie is not just a pretty sounding name. Ellerslie is an idea. In fact, the name itself is sort of a container for a thousand thoughts, dreams, desires, and passions we both have as a Christian man and woman. It denotes courage, honor, manliness, femininity, Kingdom decorum, nobility, purity, fervent love, the unabashedness of the Gospel, and the epic fight for the Glory of our great King.
Eighteen years ago God stirred within my soul a very specific desire. It was a desire to be trained; a desire to be built; a desire to be led. I was hungering for a spiritual boot camp of sorts. I wanted a father of the faith, who I envisioned as a William Wallace sort of man, to grab me by the scruff of the neck and say, “Ludy, if you are ready to really die to self, I’ll teach how to really live unto Christ.”
Eighteen years ago I began to pray for such a school – a school built for young men, like me – young men that despised mediocrity and esteemed the narrow path, but just didn’t quite know how to find it. I wanted a training school that made males into mighty men – a training that wasn’t just for head-knowledge about theological matters, but one intended for real-life impact.
Well, as every seasoned believer knows, such training is available to all by means of the Word of God and His Holy Spirit. It doesn’t require a college campus, tuition payments, or a cadre of theologically astute faculty in order to access the depths of the spiritual life God has made available through the Cross. In fact, it requires nothing more than a humble, willing, yielded, and teachable heart.
So then, why start a school?
Because God knows that we need that extra push forward, that spiritual discipline that comes from like-minded believers standing shoulder to shoulder in community, and that sacred set-apart environment that helps us really focus on what truly matters. And that is what Ellerslie is all about. It’s a school designed to come alongside the work that God has already begun to do within your life. Like throwing fuel on an existing fire.
Ellerslie School of Honor is truly a miracle project. Everything about its genesis is laced with the supernatural and demonstrates in living color the power of purposeful and specific prayer.
This past Thursday, we officially announced Ellerslie’s commencement. And the first school is set to start up June of 2010 and run ten weeks.
Plain and simple, Ellerslie is hero-training. It’s white-hot Christianity encouraged, taught, and cultivated in and amongst the fellowship of consecrated believers. And it’s not just for men – it’s also for women. And it’s not just for the collegiate age, it’s for every age – for those serious about running this race well. It’s a school for those interested in a bravehearted Christian life.
In January, we knew it was time to launch this venture. However, back in January, we had no idea what great drama and excitement lie just up ahead in the formation of this vision. Everything from our web address, to our faculty, to our campus location has been the work of Divine grace. If this is how it starts, I’m thrilled to see how the next chapter of this adventure will read.
So, if the idea of Ellerslie touches something within you, then please go to our official school website to learn more:
www.ellerslie.com

Avonlea Rose

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 11:11:34 -0600

Well, it’s official. Our little bitty punkin has a name. And, this is no ordinary name, mind you. This name is extra special, selected off of page one in the Official Ludy Dictionary of Baby Names. Avonlea (pronounced av-un-lee) is a long time favorite name in the Eric and Leslie vernacular.

For those that are curious, here’s the story:

When Leslie and I first met eighteen years ago, I wrote a song in order to help articulate the power and preciousness of our unfolding love story. There were no words to this song, it was just a piano piece. And, in a sense, there were really two songs that sort of functioned as the background score for our season of falling in love – 1) this song of which I’m referring, and 2) the instrumental song known as, “Sunrise” (which many of you are familiar). I entitled the song, “Avonlea,” because it captured the ideals of childlike faith, heavenly beauty, and noble purity in its melody line.

Leslie and I didn’t really watch any movies together in the entire three-year span of knowing each other prior to our marriage. But, one evening, after a romantic walk together, we arrived back at my parent’s house. My family was watching a movie and there was about an hour remaining in the film. So Leslie and I sat down to enjoy it with them. The movie was “Anne of Avonlea.” If you’ve seen it, then you know how romantic it is, how beautiful Prince Edward Island is, and how marvelous and tender is the kiss between Gilbert and Anne as the credits begin to roll. So, there again was a little touch of grace upon the word “Avonlea” between us. It was already a special song, now it was a special movie, and near two decades later, little did we know, it would become the name of a special little girl.

If you have followed the way we’ve named our other three children then you know we have a knack for picking names with vague definitions, so that we can create our own. The name Hudson simply meant “son of Hugh.” That’s boring. So we added it to the Official Ludy Dictionary of Baby Names and now it means, “one of great tensile strength.” Harper simply meant “harp player.” Again, quite boring! So, we added a little Ludy spice to the name and now it means, “the spirit of the Father crying.” Kipling, in following suit went from basically no meaning at all, to meaning, “strength in the face of adversity.” So, now we arrive at this newest little pile of baby love.

Here’s the meaning of Avonlea Rose:

Avonlea – a return to childlike faith, simple beauty, noble purity, and compassion for the least.

Rose - Our little bundle reminds us of a rosebud. And for me, the addition of this name means, “a reflection of her mother,” because during our love story I always referred to Leslie as a white rosebud in my letters and poetry.

For Leslie and I, we feel like God has been freshly walking us through the same spiritual themes that He awakened us to during our love story (faith, beauty, purity, honor, and rescuing the weak). And in many ways, we feel that this little girl is a symbol in our life of this very present work God is doing. We believe that her life will carry on these themes in even greater force and color than ours have. So, in other words, this little girl is, in every sense of the word . . . “Avonlea.”

Six months prior to our wedding day, Leslie and I took a trip with my family up to Prince Edward Island, strolled Lover’s Lane, walked the beach hand-and-hand as the sun set over the ocean, and experienced the beauty and romance of “Avonlea” first hand. It wasn’t just a song or a movie – it was real life. And, I guess, in a sense, we feel this is a return to the beauty and romance of those days long ago, as we (in present day Windsor, Colorado) nuzzle up and give butterfly kisses to our real-life baby cakes named Avonlea, and stroll Lover’s Lane with her in our hearts.

So, without further ado, we are happy to introduce you to the newest little Ludy, Avonlea Rose – a set-apart woman of God and a mighty bravehearted gospelteer in the making.

Let the confetti fly!

Click here to see the Baby Photo Gallery
Click here to read about her arrival

Baby Photo Gallery

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 09:17:16 -0600

Our little girly girl punkin’ still doesn’t yet have a name. But, just know, Leslie and I are working hard on it. In the Ludy family, names are extremely important - they are more than a moniker, they encompass a life calling. And, somehow, we need to find that perfect name that captures both the power and the preciousness of this little life.
Meanwhile, Annie captured baby’s very first day in photos. For my father’s heart, these pictures are almost too much for me to handle. I’ve shed quite a few tears over these past couple days. This little one is so utterly sweet and so delectably petite. Our God does great work!
Click here to see the Baby Gallery

Baby Update

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 07:28:24 -0600

The Very Latest . . .
7:05 AM Sunday, June 21st
*****Confetti is flying and we are beside ourselves with joy*****
click here for pictures
At 3:24 this morning, a little girl was born. And out of 365 days in a calendar year, this little Ludy girl happened to choose Father’s Day on which to arrive. She’s obviously going to be a Daddy’s girl.
We don’t yet have a name for our princess, but I can say that it will be tough to come up with a name sweet enough to match her cuteness. She is painfully adorable.
She’s seven pounds, three ounces and all-around perfect. Leslie and I haven’t gotten a stitch of sleep, so the reality of it all still hasn’t fully sunk in. I’ve been crying tears of fatherly joy all morning.
Leslie was a hero. She was full of joy and marked by peace all the way to the end. We did a home birth without drugs, and it truly was remarkable. I’m just in awe right now.
After we get a little sleep, we’ll make sure to post some photos so that you can take a peek.

9:37 PM Saturday, June 20th
It’s getting real close. This baby is maneuvering toward an exit. Yay! The midwife is enroute.
Meanwhile, Leslie and I received an email from our son, Hudson, tonight. It included four attached pictures, which are enough to melt my father’s heart.
Here’s the email:
deearr daddy mommy,

i llove yooou!

bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

click here to see the pictures of our little warrior-poet.

10:10 AM Saturday, June 20th
No baby yet. But the excitement swirls about us. The kiddos are still down at Nana and Pops, so we went down yesterday for a visit. It was so wonderful to see them. They are truly in seventh heaven. They made us stick puppets. Hudson is really becoming quite the little artist. If you remember the Pixar movie “Bugs Life,” and you remember the little artistic scribbles of the miniature “Blueberry” ants - that is precisely what Hudson’s art looks like. It’s hilarious. So, he made a stick puppet of himself, known as the “B one.” And then he made a stick puppet of me, known as the “Daddy one.” It turns out that my pencil-like arms jut out from my cheek bones (I had one eye about three times larger than the other eye, and my nose was higher on my face than my eyebrows). I gave him a great big hug and told him how impressed I was with his artistic ability. I said, “we are going to need to send you to Art School.” Well, that notion stuck, and the rest of the day we were hearing about Art School. He’s thinking that maybe when he turns 5 or 6 he’ll be ready to attend - he’s serious about this.
I’ve had quite a few people tell me that tomorrow, being Father’s Day, would be an ideal day for baby to arrive. I agree. But in the meantime, Leslie and I are expecting that today is the day.
PS - It appears that Hudson has changed his mind, and he now believes that this baby is going to be a boy. However, Harper still is standing strong believing it to be a little sister. Mommy and Daddy are trying their hardest to be neutral in the whole gender issue. Meanwhile, Baby Dubber is keeping his opinion to himself.

9:14 AM Friday, June 19th
Waiting is an art form. There is a kind of waiting that is good for the soul, it builds it stronger, purges it of all trifling thoughts, purifies the expectations, makes one more like Jesus Christ, and builds a mighty faith within. And there is another kind of waiting that deteriorates the souls, it turns one inward to self-pity, gross imaginations of impending disaster, anxiety and fear, discouragement, and ultimately despair. Ironically, the decision lies in our court as to which one of these two kinds of waiting we will experience.
Leslie and I are happy as larks right now, if that is any indication of which sort of waiting we are choosing. It’s ironic, but there is something else that is happening simultaneously in our life, concurrent with this little lump of baby love being born, something that we have been waiting on for near seventeen years. Practically speaking, Leslie and I have been actively pursuing the acquisition of a particular bible college campus for the past three years. It just so happens that significant discussions are taking place right now and we might possibly be reaching an agreement any day for moving forward. God willing, we are going to be launching a training school this next summer - sort of mix between a Bible College and a missionary training school (I’ll be sure to announce more about it in the next couple weeks). However, this all hinges upon the location. And this project has been seventeen years in the forming (in other words, there has been a lot of waiting involved). And, do you think it is accidental that this little baby and this bible college vision could possibly share the same birthday?
Both of them have been marked by sacred waiting. In other words, waiting that is God directed, for the express purpose of deeper consecration. And both of them are sure to bear the hallmark of God’s amazing triumph and grace as a result.
God is always precious to us, but these past couple weeks there has been a triple portion of His preciousness realized in our hearts and minds. The term that best describes this stretch is, “holy expectation.” Our God is doing a wonderful work that all the earth may know that the Almighty Jehovah is faithful and true.
PS - Leslie had intense contractions throughout yesterday but nothing consistent. So we just went about our day, soaking it up as yet another bonus day of blessing. Who knows what today may bring. June 19th may very well be the perfect day to have a baby. Annie’s birthday is June 27th, but she feels guilty anytime she starts praying toward that end. June 21st, of course, is the day with the most sunlight - I’m sure I could come up with all sorts of symbolic things in that. We’ll see! Meanwhile, the mystery and impending surprise is part of the great fun!

8:40 AM Thursday, June 18th
Annie took the three Ludy kiddos down to Nana and Pops last night in preparation for . . . well, we’ll see. Baby’s arrival time is imminent, we can just feel it on the wind. Leslie has been a figure of dignity and strength throughout this wait. I’m just marveling at her peace and joy in the midst of baby contractions.
Last night, since the kids were away, we reverted to one of our long standing traditions of yesteryear, which was taking a long romantic walk at dusk. It was a beautiful night in every way. We had some dear friends (Dan and Sandi) sneak into our house, while we were out at dinner, and file my favorite food away in our fridge (NOTE: my love language comment earlier in this blog [see below] has definitely been reaping benefits).
A single copy of our newest book, Wrestling Prayer (which is not yet released in stores), arrived in the mail yesterday. So we sat down for a little reading time in our cozy Manhattan loungers and were thoroughly inspired. This book is pure thunder for the soul. It’s precisely what our limpid modern church needs. I’ll keep you posted on when it will be officially available for sale. There is nothing quite like labor and delivery mixed with the message of “travailing in prayer for the victory!”
Let the world know that there is a couple in Windsor, Colorado, USA that are intimately walking in the triumph of our God! And if anyone asks, you can tell them that their last name is, “Ludy,” which supposedly means “nerd” in Japanese - but I strongly believe that there is some other language on this great big globe in which the word “Ludy” means something akin to, “an overcoming, unbending, immovable and supremely happy one.” Because that is precisely how Leslie and I feel.
PS - Annie emailed Leslie and I a few photos this morning of the kiddos at Nana and Pop’s place. I only posted three of them, but if you want to take a peek, click here. I’m sure we’ll be adding many more photos to this album when baby pops out.

7:10 AM Wednesday, June 17th
I was telling Leslie last night that this whole “Baby staying in her tummy” thing is quite nice. I mean, think about it. We have all the excitement of a soon-to-arrive baby, and yet none of the diaper changes, endless feedings, and sleepless nights. Not a bad deal. When I said it, her face sort of twisted into one of those wry, “you have no idea what it’s like to carry 30-some odd pounds right on top of your bladder” sort of looks. Don’t worry everyone, I’m still laboring to be sensitive to my beloved, but there is part of me that wants to just keep this waiting period going forever. Oh, I still want Baby to arrive, of course, it’s just that this bonus time spent with Leslie and the kids has been heaven on earth. So, if Leslie could handle another week or two like this, I would gladly say, “Meconium*-filled-baby diapers can wait.”
*Meconium is one of those things that no one ever teaches you about growing up. It’s like a parenting secret that every veteran parent, who has already endured the meconium stage at least once, snickers about as unwitting first-time parents encounter the “dreaded tar” for the very first time. You can thank me some day for giving you advanced warning.

6:06 AM Tuesday, June 16th
Nope. Nothing. Nada. Diddly-squat. In regards to baby activity those would be the operable words. However, in regards to spiritual activity, the words would be abundance, outpouring, beauty, magnificence, and awe. This is no accident that the baby is taking longer to come. For Leslie and I this has been a week of deep encounter with Majesty. Due to the fact that we thought we were going to be in full-time “new baby” mode right now, we removed everything from our schedule. So this delay has created this amazing stretch of slower paced spiritually luxurious living. Every day has been loaded with rich discussions on the Kingdom, poignant challenges from the Spirit of God, fiery prayer times, and jubilant worship. In other words, “nope, nothing, nada, and diddly-squat” are not bad words at all when they are discovered in the context of God’s plan and purposes.

8:18 AM Monday, June 15th
Hudson was inspired by seeing yesterday’s video project come together (see below) and so this morning he decided that he wanted to make his own movie for baby. Hudson’s been waking up a bit earlier than I prefer as of late which is causing him to inject himself into my early morning prayer and study time. When he barges into my study, I always ask him if he wants to pray with Daddy. He pauses and contemplates such an extraordinary thing and then sheepishly says something like, “I think I’ll do art.” I think he’s still a bit intimidated by the concept of wrestling in prayer with Daddy (after all, he’s heard me pray, and it can be rather intense at times). Well, anyway, this morning I put prayer and study on hold and decided to help him produce his very first movie. I don’t have it edited yet, but if I do happen to find the time to get to it in these next few days of “baby waiting,” I’ll make sure to post it here. And, no, Leslie didn’t have her baby in the night. In fact, she slept well with hardly even a thought that baby might be coming at any moment. We are loving the wait.
NOTE: for those of you that experienced technical difficulties with the video last night, I think it’s working now. Sorry about that.

10:51 PM Sunday, June 14th
Baby is taking his/her own sweet time, but life is grand for the Ludy family. God has certainly marked this extra time of waiting with such a rich and bountiful sense of His presence. For those of you that don’t like watching other people’s family videos, you may wish to skip the following production, however, for those of you that want to see how cute our precious little ones are as they anticipate the arrival of number four - this video is just for you.

7:46 AM Sunday, June 14th
Hudson is working on art this morning, cutting out paper flowers and making up a bouquet for his still pregnant Momma. It’s absolutely adorable, and sure to bring a warm glow to Leslie’s heart. Hudson is a gift-giver. Yesterday morning he made approximately 20 greeting cards for Mommy, Harper, and Baby Dubber while they were still sleeping and he and I were navigating the early morning hours together. And, get this, he even made a greeting card for himself. He came into my office and said, “Daddy, could you write, ‘I love you Hudson, your Momma really loves you,’ on it?” If you want to speak Hudson’s love language it’s pretty obvious what it is.
Well, yesterday was simply amazing. No baby yet, but there have been blessings abundant in the meanwhile. Leslie and I spent the afternoon on a date. We found this romantic cafe and had one of those talks that we will certainly refer back to ten years from now with fondness. Annie watched the kiddos and attempted to put the final touches to the next online issue of setapartgirl.com. Meanwhile, Bex (Baby Dubber’s birth mom - or as we like to say, “Tummy Mommy”) stopped by and spent the evening with us. Cindy Poe stopped by with a yummy gourmet carrot cake (that’s my love language, by the way). It was one of those magical nights, as we sat on the porch and basked in the beauties of a life spent with God. We did get angrily tweeted at by a momma bird that chose to build its nest right where we sit and talk every night, but outside of that it was perfectly serene.

12:42 PM Saturday, June 13th
We are living it up, knowing that our mobility will be seriously impaired when the fourth bundle of joy arrives. We biked over to Cafe Victoria’s this morning for breakfast, played at the park, and now Leslie and I are actually sneaking out on a date. Ah, the joys of a child arriving a little later than expected.

7:29 AM Saturday, June 13th
Well, today is Leslie’s official due date. To be honest, we didn’t actually think we would arrive at today without a newborn in tow. If we were a betting couple, we would have laid money on Monday, June 8th. I’m not sure why - it just sort of seemed like a perfect “baby” day. And yet, here we are nearly a week later, still waiting.
But the waiting has been anything but hard. In fact, it’s been exquisite. This entire week has been hallowed and marked by a very fragrant and tender presence of God. So, even though Leslie is feeling very pregnant and very ready - she’s also doing very well and is aglow with anticipation.
Hudson and Harper are also aglow. However, I’m not sure if their enthusiasm is centered purely on the soon-to-arrive bundle of baby love. You see, when all the baby excitement begins, they know that Nana and Pops are coming to carry them away into the Land of Little Kid Fun. The thought of a few days at Nana and Pop’s place breeds serious squeals of delight in the Ludy home.
I’ll be periodically providing baby updates here in this blog over the next few days. For all of you “curious baby-lovers,” I can’t guarantee instant information as this all unfolds, however, I can assure you that I will do my best to keep the information coming.
It’s so much fun being a father!

Being a Boy

Thu, 28 May 2009 11:34:42 -0600

My four-year-old son, Hudson, was making some global observations yesterday. He does this every now and again. He picks a theme and then just sort of mulls it over in his mind. When he is done mulling, then out flow his pithy thoughts.
His theme yesterday was dress wear, and he had the attentions of the entire Ludy clan as he spoke.
“Gwirls wear dwesses,” he proclaimed as little Harper Grace twirled around in her cute little sun dress.
I agreed with him.
“Bwoys don’t wear dwesses.”
Again, I agreed. I did ponder mentioning the fact that burly Scottish Highlanders wear kilts, but I didn’t want to disturb his momentum.
He paused for a moment, fully digesting this extraordinary reality, and then proclaimed, “I’m weally gwad that I’m a bwoy!”
Well, consider me inspired by my little boy’s declaration. I too am really glad that I’m a boy. That isn’t to take anything away from femininity. For I know for a fact that Leslie is really glad that she is a girl. But there is something hot-wired within my being that loves thunder, dirt, sword-play, treasure hunts, rescue operations, muscle, sweat, and overcoming obstacles. I’m just plain giddy over the fact that I don’t need to act feminine and (to follow Hudson’s line of reasoning) that I don’t need to wear frilly sun dresses.
As a boy I have a challenging road to hoe. The buck stops with me and the onus of righteous responsibility rests squarely on my shoulders. If there is a problem in society, then I’m responsible before God to head the charge to fix it. If there is a problem in my church then yours truly can’t wait around for someone else take up the fight – after all I’m the boy, and therefore, I’m the one responsible to initiate the action. And the same goes for love – I (the boy) am required to be the risk-taker, the foot-washer, and the cross-bearer. In my family I’m required to be the go-to guy when it’s dead of night and baby is crying. I’m required to be law-giver, law-enforcer, and justice of the peace. When danger knocks, I (the boy) am the first line of defense – the one ready to spill and spend my blood for those entrusted to my care.
The boy doesn’t get the luxury of down-time. He’s the stuff of a soldier, and therefore, he’s always on call, always on duty. He is a weapon of defense for Truth, righteousness, innocence, purity, and the vulnerable and weak. And he can never set down his sword, never tune out the battle, and never impair the sharpness of his senses.
Now Hudson doesn’t fully realize what he is saying. He’s “weally gwad that he’s a bwoy,” but he’s still not fully in possession of the Godly understanding on the matter. He doesn’t completely get it yet. And that’s okay. Because right now, he has a bigger boy taking up the slack (aka – Daddy). But very soon he will realize the true privilege of being a boy. And it’s much bigger than sun dresses or, for that matter, snips, snails, and puppy dog tails – it’s the fact that the boy, in God’s economy, is privileged to be the first to die for the great cause of the Kingdom. When all is healthy in the Church of Jesus Christ, the boys lead the charge – they take the bullets, they defend the weak, and they become the foundations stones of a heavenly kingdom.
I’m sure being a girl is a beautiful, fragrant, romantic adventure. From what my wife tells me, “it doesn’t get any better than being a godly girl.” I think that’s great. But, I’m just plain thrilled to be 100% male. So, in concert with my little buckaroo, I declare, “I’m weally gwad that I’m a bwoy!”
Here’s to wielding holy testosterone for the glory and renown of our King!

An Extreme “Love Story” Makeover

Thu, 7 May 2009 11:59:15 -0600

If you haven’t already heard the exciting news via our newsletter, the 10-year anniversary edition of our long-running classic, “When God Writes Your Love Story” has just hit bookstore shelves. So, as a special behind-the-scenes “thank-you” to all of you faithful blog-followers, I’m including herein, my “author’s note” for this new “expanded edition.” For those of you that were interested in reading the “first draft” of my author’s note, I only had that up online for the first 24 hours (it was a little too embarrassing to keep it up there any longer). So, this only goes to prove that the early bird catches the worm. Happy reading!
_____________
Author’s Note
I think it’s kind of strange being an author. It’s bewildering that people actually read our books. Don’t get me wrong, that is why we write them, but it’s a strange sensation to realize that somehow the way that we personally articulate ideas meshes with the way that someone else understands ideas. It’s a wonder of wonders that never ceases to amaze us.
To me this particular book is the one that has surprised me the most because it has received a greater response than all our other books combined. Ten years ago, When God Writes Your Love Story introduced a generation to the extraordinary beauty of a God-scripted romance.
Over the past decade, informal surveys of our readers have shown that an average of five people read each purchased copy of When God Writes Your Love Story. It’s one of those life-changing books that people like to pass around to their friends. I can’t tell you how many faded, battered, torn-up copies of this book I’ve signed over the years. I love signing the really bedraggled copies, those “I’ve read it seventeen times” copies.
This book has somehow, through all its quirky stories and romantic nit-wittisisms effectively wormed its way into countless reader’s hearts and is still one of the greatest selling Christian relationship books of all-time. I may not be able to fully comprehend that fact, but there is something packaged inside this book that has deeply moved hundreds of thousands of people to completely alter their approach to building romantic relationships.
And I think that response comes, at least in part, because the message is so simple. Well, it also might have to do with the fact that this book hews tightly to the triumvirate of qualities that characterize every classic Ludy book: it’s desperately romantic, awkwardly hilarious, and, of course, spiritually heart-warming.
To be quite honest, both Leslie and I felt a longing to completely rewrite this book from scratch. We were convinced we could express the message so much better and more profoundly now that we have ten years added wisdom under our belts. However, when we presented that idea to a few of the more vocal members of the When God Writes fan club, they were all quite disturbed by the concept.
One individual proclaimed, “Don’t mess with this book! It’s Eric and Leslie captured in a bottle, with all their youthful zeal, naivety, corniness, and passion fully intact.”
While Leslie and I were inclined to make this book sound a bit more grown-up, it would seem that the eccentric youthful nature of this book is part of its magic. It’s a hilarious book about some of the most dead-serious issues on planet Earth. And somehow, it works. So instead of changing the whole book, we did as our publisher asked and we “freshened” it up a bit. This revised edition is an update of the classic message that has impacted so many lives.
For those of you familiar with the original version, you will find all sorts of new chunks of gold hidden within – we’ve added new stories, deeper truths, and a greater wealth of application. And while many of the embarrassingly out-moded phrases and illustrations have been altered and brought up to our modern times., we left in a few Eric-isms just so that you can enjoy a good laugh at my expense.
If you are new to this book, welcome. Leslie and I hope and pray that you will find something in this revised edition that connects with your heart just as it has connected with the hundreds of thousands of readers before you.
Ten years may have passed, but Eric and Leslie haven’t changed a bit when it comes to the message of this book. We are still crazy in love with each other and still ever-smiling proponents of God-built romance (It’s amazing, but this stuff only gets better with time). *
_____________

To secure yourself a copy of the newly revised “When God Writes Your Love Story,” just click here.

*Excerpted from When God Writes Your Love Story (Expanded Edition) by Eric & Leslie Ludy. Copyright © 1999, 2004, 2009 by Winston and Brooks, Inc. Excerpted by permission of Multnomah Books, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

What’s the definition of radical?

Wed, 6 May 2009 12:15:03 -0600

In the 80’s the word “radical” was actually in fashion – or was that the 90’s? Whenever it was, it’s embarrassing to reminisce, because the word these days is anything but hip and in vogue. Today, “radical” is a synonym for “human being with screw loose.” Images of wiry unkempt hair, wild maniacal eyes, and a horrible case of Turrets seem to subconsciously dance through the mind. Let’s admit it – the word “radical” has lost its cool edge and now appears more on America’s Most Wanted posters than on the lips of those that seek to be culturally kosher.
To be honest, I don’t like the word at all. However, a true Christian seeking to live out the plain-spoken words of Christ, is going to be hard-pressed to avoid that unpleasant word from attaching itself to their every action. The word “radical” in relation with bravehearted Christianity is kind of like coos with babies, oohs with sunsets, and blues with jazz – it just kind of comes with the package.
Let me give you a for-instance. Leslie and I just got a letter yesterday from our dear friend, Jolene, in Montana. This girl is serious about her Christianity. She’s sort of a spunky modern-day Gladys Aylward – bravehearted to the core, Christ-adoring, and a lover of the least. Girls like Jolene are considered “normal” in Leslie’s and my worldview. But to this world, she’s, you might say . . . cough . . . ahem . . . “radical.”
Jolene is a twenty-six-year old single girl. Talented and full of energy to change this world. She’s got all it takes to make money, find success, and live this life according to the modern prescription. But there’s something that is sort of messing with her normalcy. You see, Jolene has Jesus. In fact, she has Jesus in a measure that has forever altered her and has made her rather strange to this world about.
So, as the story goes, this girl with so much potential, said to God, “Whatever you wish to do with my life, do it!” And that’s when things started going a bit, how should I say? . . . radical.
Suddenly Jolene was awakened to the foster care system and all the many thousands of kids that are suffering. This young single girl asked God to allow her to help – to do something to make a difference. That’s when Jolene was introduced to Justin, a thirteen-year-old boy, in desperate need of an advocate. So Jolene took this young boy in. Yes, you heard me correctly, Jolene, who is a twenty-six year old single girl took this needy thirteen-year-old boy in as her foster son.
Jolene has been working to actually adopt this young boy for close to a year now. The story is something straight out of a classic Christian biography.
So, this same Jolene sent Leslie and I letter yesterday. It was like receiving a letter from Gladys Aylward herself. Listen to what it said:
Life has been a little wild lately. Last week I got my official letter stating my teaching job has been terminated and this is simultaneous with the beginnings of Justin’s adoption. An interesting combination I must say!
Okay, stop right there. Nothing that far out of the ordinary, right? Yes, the fact that she is even trying to adopt a thirteen year old from the foster care system is a bit over-the-top, but everything else is sort of everyday life for many of us. Well, let’s keep reading.
God is in control of all things, and He will work out all the details. It’s a learning process for sure. At first I found myself using my adoption of Justin as an excuse for being upset over losing my job, but God quickly squashed that. He asked me to take Justin in and He also is in control of my job status. My job is to simply trust and obey.
Now, we are starting to get a bit more “radical” here. This is not the way a normal human responds to such adversity. She seems a bit too calm, don’t you think? Let’s put the recipe together: One cup singleness, one cup needy thirteen-year-old boy, and one cup terminated job. Normally when you mix those three things together you get violent explosions and fireworks displays of dramatic panic attacks – but not in this little bravehearted girl.
Now, I’m going to skip over the part of her letter that details all the miraculous things happening in Justin’s adoption process. It’s great stuff but a little off the topic of this blog. And let’s go straight to the part where she starts professing her feelings about the adoption:
Eric and Leslie – I believe with every ounce of my being that lives will be radically altered through this adoption process.
Did you notice the word “radically” in her last sentence. Her word, not mine.
I am not called to the children only, but rather, to reach out to the lost and broken families. God has also clearly shown that I am to take in the lost and forgotten – the children in danger of “aging” out of the system and being dumped into the world all alone. Not if I have anything to say! I visit the adoption websites daily and the only thing holding me back from having a houseful of dysfunctional kids to cherish are the state regulations. But God is bigger than those. I recently had God challenge my heart. I was determined that I would adopt 20 kids during my time on earth. God has recently challenged me with 50 – foster/adopted children. I can’t wait!!
Okay, does anyone see anything in that last little literary string that is strange and not of this world? This world would call such effusion of emotion and excitement “cuckoo” – they would call it “extreme” – and, let’s be honest, they just might tag it, (ahem) “radical.”
And let me say, if this is the definition of “radical,” then let that stigma also rest on me. And not just me, on you as well. And not just you, but every other Truth-loving Christian who desires to bring fame to their Risen King.
Whether we like the word “radical,” or not, the word is reserved for those of us that come to Jesus and say, in concert with that twenty-six year old single girl named Jolene, “Whatever you wish to do with my life, do it!”
__________
If you would like to send a note of cheer on to Jolene, then click here

On a personal note

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 14:18:44 -0600

if I were to be downright honest, I don’t really like thinking about the American culture and all it’s problems. I’d much rather meditate on the hilarity of Kipling’s first tooth, Harper’s potty training day, and Hudson learning to read the book “Fat Cat Fat Rat.” You may not agree, but I think that’s exciting stuff! Everything to me is personal. When I think of the current political atmosphere of my country, I think of my kids and how it will ultimately affect them. When I think of the financial crisis we are all walking through, I’m not thinking of Bernie Madoff, I’m thinking of those I love. And when Swine Flu is threatening, I’ll give you ten guesses as to where my thoughts are directed. The reality of this world is deeply personal to me. Since Moody Radio has very courteously requested that I try not to be super-personal in my weekly radio commentaries (and thusly my podcast), that only leaves me one location through which to air my personal behind-the-scenes stuff - and that’s right here in this blog. So, please humor me for a minute as I let a little love and affection fly.

Hudson. He’s always one of my favorite subjects. If you haven’t heard, he’s four now. He’s a talkative one. The two of us just got back from our first major father/son excursion. Our destination wasn’t very exotic - it was the potato fields of Idaho. But, we sure did have fun together. Oh, and for all of you that love to hear Hudson’s latest quotes, here’s a great one that came out a few nights back (Hudson’s lines are in red):
“Can you say enormous?”
“Is that Swahili?”
“No, are you learning Swahili, Hudson?”
“No, Spanish, I’ll learn Swahili next.”
I’m always laughing when I’m around this little guy. Oh, and if you haven’t seen the latest video featuring Hudson, entitled “Hudson turns four,” click here.

Harper. If you ever get a chance to meet this little Korean cutie, say, “Harper, can you show me the pirate face?” I’m telling you, she really does look like a pirate. She now has added to her facial repertoire the “pouty” face, the “suspicious” face, the “surprised” face, and the “crazily happy” face. She’s two going on twenty-two. I have never seen so much drama packaged into such a little frame.

Kipling. He’s six months old and full of muscle. Doesn’t that sound like a line from a “Men at Work” song in the 80’s? This little guy is chiseled (I just wish I could take biological credit for it). And when he’s not benching Daddy, Baby Kip loves to smile and giggle. He’s not quite mobile yet, but he’s definitely getting close. He’s got these huge blue-green eyes that scream, “I’ve got you under my spell, don’t I?” Kip and Hudson are getting along splendidly as brothers. The two are sharing a room now and it is absolutely adorable.

Unborn Baby Ludy. The shocker here is that Leslie and I still don’t know what sex this baby is. Leslie’s a “plan everything” sort of girl, so her choice to be surprised with this one is, well, quite surprising. So, very soon (due date June 13th) we will have four little ones four and under. I know we should be panicking, but Leslie and I are strangely excited. The newborn phase is rather challenging, but there is a sweetness in it that is hard to describe. Call us crazy, but we are loving this “loads of kids” thing.

Leslie. My wife is in full bloom and absolutely radiant. I’m sure there is a scientific explanation for what happens to a woman’s skin when she is “with child,” but whether I ever understand it technically or not, Leslie is glowing. She is simply the most beautiful pregnant woman ever. Leslie is thriving as a mother. It’s nearly impossible for me to comprehend that we were able to wait ten years before having kids. She is so good at this motherhood thing and our kiddos are the happiest lot because of it.

Life and Ministry. There are so many things happening in our ministry life that I haven’t yet felt comfortable announcing publicly. It has been a season of great strength and witness to the power of prayer. Stay tuned and I’m sure I’ll be spilling the beans very soon.

Well, I’m glad I got that off my chest. Every now and again a father and a husband have to whip out the family photo album and talk a little about the ones he loves more than life. Thanks for being a listening ear.

my boy, Hudson

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 21:34:01 -0600

For all of you that have never changed a baby’s diaper, I’m going to give you a supremely valuable piece of wisdom. It’s a bit of wisdom that would have been quite helpful to me in those early days of fatherhood:
When in the midst of a diaper change, be expectant, because there is always more where that came from.
Parenting is full of surprises. Some smelly, some sticky, some hilarious, some quite inconvenient, and some that are pure pleasure.
It’s an amazing thing raising a boy. The surprises are endless. And that little bit of wisdom mentioned above, could actually be applied to far more than diaper drama. It could also be said, when observing a child’s imagination, be expectant, because there is always more where that came from. Or how about giggles, adventures, and grass stains? For better or for worse, they just keep coming.
My four year old, Hudson, is a little dynamo – his brain never stops churning, his mouth never stops motoring, and his body never seems to stop moving. Of course that is not entirely true, seeing that he is flopped on the floor of my bedroom as I write this completely comatose. He was running, jumping, diving, soaring, building, demolishing and then suddenly he was fast asleep. Such is the life of a little boy.
There are a lot of eyes that watch my little boy. Seeing as how I have championed a return to true masculinity, gritty bravehearted living, and hairy-chested heroism – a lot of people want to know how this will pass on to my progeny. Well, one thing I’m certain of is that the epic stuff of the Gospel life is not passed along merely through wise words, parental discipline, and practical life training, but primarily through the awakening and enabling power of God Himself. In other words, I’m dependent upon God to help me in this “Hudson becoming a great man” thing. I can talk-up “great manhood” to him and I can hopefully live it out in front of him, but God still must intersect my little boy’s life and supercharge his soul with the Grace of the Almighty.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Yes, I’m dependent, but happily so.
To be honest, the desire I have for my son to find the fullness of the Christ-life is strong within me. I yearn to see him turn out perfectly manly, with a chiseled heavenly soul, marked by honor and grace, and fueled by a fiery passion for His beloved Christ. After all, what is parenting a boy if it is not to foster such an end?
However, I am wholly confident in the fact that though I can’t make this happen, even through my best efforts, my Beloved God is more interested in this happening in Hudson’s heart and life than even I am, and He has said to me, “Ask, Eric, and I will do the work of Grace in his soul – I will rouse your little boy to rise up as a man – I will do it!”
Parenting as an extension of God’s Grace is a fearful and yet explosively thrilling task. I’ve surrendered my parenting over to my King and He has assured me that if I follow His lead and allow Him to enable me to pray for my kiddos as he prayed for us in Gethsemane, love my little ones just as He loved us all the way to Calvary, and die for them the way He died for us on that tree – that the vestibule of heaven will be open to them and they will discover the intimate touch of Grace upon their souls.
Hudson and I talk about Jesus a lot. But I sense that right now, at the tender age of four, he understands only the wire frame of the Gospel, but he doesn’t grasp his personal need for the power of it. He is constantly around prayer and spiritual discussion, but the deeper concepts of the Faith have not yet grabbed a hold his boyish soul. He could probably answer trivial questions about Jesus, his birth, death, and resurrection, but he doesn’t yet have the substance of Jesus Christ alive within.
As a father, I yearn for that day that I can share in intimate spiritual communion with my son. I want to talk with him about the deeper life, laugh with him about the dazzling beauty of the throne room of Grace, and cry with him over the astounding mercies of our Mighty King.
I know that such thrilling occasions mark my horizons. Such is the beauty, blessing, and bounty of Christian parenting. So I patiently wait and eagerly expect.
Tomorrow morning, Hudson and I leave on our very first “Father/Son grand adventure.” We are headed out to Idaho where I will be speaking at a conference. He very likely won’t be overly engrossed in my message. There is a high likelihood that he will be coloring, doing a puzzle, or living out an imaginary adventure while I’m on stage preaching my heart out. But, oh, what I wouldn’t give to see him lay hold of the things I’m going to be sharing tomorrow night. What I wouldn’t give to know that his heart was burning with the very same fire that I keep stoked within my chest. Tomorrow night I’ll be talking about the Bravehearted Gospel, the life wholly spent for the Glory of Jesus Christ. Is it possible that my four year old might catch the vision of the Cross even though so very young?
It’s an amazing thing raising a boy. It’s a life full of surprises. And wouldn’t it be the most wonderful of surprises to have my little boy come up to me and proclaim, “Daddy, I met Jesus and He took over my life!”
Such joys are heaven on earth. And you can just hear God whisper in those moments, “Be expectant, Eric, because there is always more where that came from.”

God Builds us for crosses

Mon, 6 Apr 2009 11:33:58 -0600

We’ve all said things that we wish we could retract and somehow cram back into our mouths. Well, I made a quick statement in my latest blog entry (The School of the Prophet) that garnered some extra attention from all the die-hard phraseologists out there. And it was the strangest thing, even after looking back over the statement, I still thought it a good one. However, there were a few amigos who wished they could somehow cram the words back into my mouth (or in this case, my keyboard). To me it wasn’t that controversial of a statement, it just seemed like a rather obvious thing. But often, things that make total sense to us, don’t translate the same to everyone else around us.
I said, “God builds us for crosses.”
Most of those concerned about my provocative statement weren’t concerned about the rest of my blog, in fact they liked it, but they were concerned of what people might conclude if such a statement was left unclarified.
“Ludy, it sounds like you are saying that God erects two pieces of woods, removes some long painful nails from his toolbag, and then delights to crucify us.”
How come when I repeat the words, “God builds us for crosses,” that isn’t what pops into my mind?
“God builds us through crosses,” was a great suggestion from one of my good friends. By exchanging “for” with “through,” that uncomfortable zing can certainly be avoided from the statement. However, the statement would then only partially express what I believe.
You see, whereas I believe that God builds us through crosses, I also believe God builds us for crosses. No, I don’t believe that God seeks to strip us naked, scourge us, torture us, openly mock us, and kill us. Such hellish behavior is wholly the enemy’s business. God isn’t the inventor of crosses, and he isn’t the one who wields them as an instrument of suffering and death. But our God is the One who can take this horrible device of persecution and turn it into a supernaturally charged instrument of life. He takes what the enemy means for evil and turns it to a profound good.
What was Jesus built for?
I realize that there are various things you could shout out as an answer to that question.
“He was built to demonstrate the glory of the Father!” someone might say.
“He was built to live out the human life to perfection so that we could see the perfect pattern of righteousness!” Someone else might add.
“He was built to save us from our sins.” Yet another might throw into the hopper.
All very good answers, and perfectly valid answers to my question. However, there’s something specific I’m fishing for.
Drum roll please . . .
“He was built for the Cross.”
He was built for that One great Day – that Day when the sin of the whole world would come crushing down upon His shoulders. He was built to not faint, to not falter at Gethsemane. He was built to keep standing and march forward with audacity even when betrayed to His face and abandoned by his closest friends. He was built for endurance, for long-suffering, for the awful brutality He would endure at the end of the Roman whip. He was built to go as a Lamb silent unto the shearers. He was built to succeed in the most dreadful of circumstances, the most harrowing of trials. Jesus was built for the Cross. He was built for that decisive moment. He was built to win.
What is a Navy Seal built for in training? For the ease of furlough? No - for the dread of D-Day, the shock of Omaha Beach.
A Seal is built to remain standing under the greatest physical and mental strains. He’s built to be a hero amidst the greatest difficulties when other men might fail. He’s built to come out the other side of that bomb blast in one piece.
What is a football player built for? The comforts of the off-season? No - for the pressures of the Super Bowl.
He’s built for fourth and ten with the clock running down to zero – he’s built for exploits, for the guts to show themselves when the chips are down. He’s built to get that ball into the end zone in the face of the greatest obstacles. He’s built for victory NOT defeat.
What is a Christian built for? For the sweet songs of worship amidst the congregation? For the tender words of love shared between the beloved? Yes, but there is more.
Like Jesus, a Christian is built to win. God doesn’t build his men for failure, He builds them for victory. And so He constructs his men and women out of the stuff that gets them through this life in triumph. He builds us for Gethsemane, for rejection, betrayal, slander, shame, and ridicule. He builds us to keep walking when all around us falter. He builds us to stand Athanasius Contra Mundum when everyone about us sides against the Living God. He builds us to receive the cat of nine tails without forsaking our King and without relinquishing our mission. He builds us for those two pieces of lumber ruthlessly pressed down upon our shoulders and splintering our skin with agonizing pain. He builds us for the enemy’s nails, the enemy’s pain, and the enemy’s worst. He build us to rise victorious, to remain faithful, to not cower in the season of greatest trial.
Now, to be quite honest, in some ways I’m taking a dimension of the Christian life and putting it under a magnifying glass. For, though it is true that God builds us for crosses, He also builds us for the life in-between, which might not always be made of splintery wood.
So, in all fairness, you could say, “God builds us for today!” I mean, after all, what’s the good of being built for some day way in the future, if we can’t even make it through the trials facing us today with triumph and victory? This is obviously why Jesus says, “Pick up your cross daily.” And it would also be fair to say that there is a lot more than crosses that God builds us for. For instance, “God builds us for His pleasure; God builds us to bear much fruit; God builds us to bear the image of His Son; God builds us to be holy; God builds us to worship Him; and God builds us to effervesce with overwhelming love, extraordinary joy, and indescribable peace.”
You see, the Christian life is a bit too grand to stick into one small phrase. The small phrase may be true, but it might only be a piece of an even greater truth.
So, should I have said, “God builds us for crosses?”
I think so. It’s a mighty truth, a stunning reality.
But could I have said it in such a way that didn’t cause a mental trip-up for the phraseologists out there?
Probably.
One of my beloved phraseologist friends suggested, “God prepares us for crosses.”
Hmmm. God prepares us for crosses. That’s pretty well put. It’s true, and yet, it doesn’t carry around all that unnecessary mental baggage causing people to envision God erecting crosses and crucifying His children on them.
Long and short, the grand Truth of Heaven isn’t always that easy to communicate down here in this sin-encrusted world. Words can often be trip-ups rather than tools aiding us in our efforts. However, even though we might not say it perfectly, I think we should still speak it. And if we realize we could have said it better, we simply apologize for our inadequacy, and we say it better the next time. But we live in a world that is dying for lack of Truth, so speak we must, even if our words still lack that final polish.

The School of the Prophet

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 14:21:04 -0600

Christianity is simply not cool. It’s not hip, it’s not en vogue, and it’s definitely not one of those things you claim if you desire fame and popularity to come knocking.
Many in our modern day refuse to accept this inherent foolishness in the Christian package. They attempt to make it something it just isn’t, and in the process create even a cheesier product.
That said, there is a segment of the Christian life that carries with it a hue of respectability and social grace. It may not be cool, but at least it’s not inherently foolish. For example, kindness. Kindness for the most part is a universally celebrated character trait that both the secularist and Christian applaud. Integrity is another one. Courage, generosity, hospitality, and diligence could also be thrown into this hopper of thought.
In other words, there are certain aspects of a healthy Christian life that pose no threat to the surrounding world system. They are not foolish, cheesy, repulsive, or seemingly inane. In fact, these certain attributes might actually be commended for their humanistic and humanitarian flavoring. But, whereas some traits might not be foul and offensive, there are others in the fully-orbed Christian life that have a very different effect on this world, and thusly remove every ounce of coolness from the equation.
Take for instance, purity. Or how about holiness, or preaching, or evangelizing the lost with our “there’s only one way to the Father” message?
These oft-criticized attributes of the healthy Christian existence beg the question, “What was God thinking?” But this question only emits from our lips when we don’t understand God’s purpose in constructing His saints to look just like Him.
This might be a shocker, but God doesn’t intend the Christian life to gain the admiration of the world. God doesn’t build us into a picture of His Majesty simply to receive the applause of the masses. He doesn’t mold us with the expectation that this world will swoon before our beauty and grace. Actually, God builds the human life into a picture of His honor, truth, and life, in order to expose the selfishness, the sinfulness, and the profane motivation of all that has not yet been reborn and remade in Him.
He builds us as a contrast.
God builds us for crosses.
A healthy Christian life, shaped after the pattern of Christ in Scripture, is an affront, an indictment, a call to repentance. And even if this “healthy Christian” were to never even open his mouth to audibly speak the message of Christ’s honor, truth, and life – still the mighty message of the Cross is continually proclaimed through his every action – it should emanate from his skin, his smile, and his attitude.
In some ways, at the subconscious level, I’ve attempted to avoid this all-too-clearly-evidenced truth of Scripture, that all who live godly lives in Christ Jesus WILL be persecuted. Note that it’s not “may be persecuted.” Not “will be thought kind of funny.” It’s “WILL be persecuted.” Gulp.
I lived a good portion of my Christian life listening to God as if His words were suggestions. I always thought them good, wise suggestions, however, they were still just suggestions – notions that I weighed in the balance of my own selfish interest and often found wanting.
And for years, I treated this whole “persecution” thing as a suggestion. It’s as if God were saying, “Eric, here’s a couple options. You can live a comfortable life, full of yourself, your ego, your wants, and preserving your pleasures, or you could live a persecuted life, full of Me, my sufferings, my agenda, and seeking my pleasure alone. Which one would you prefer?”
If the true Christian life, as prescribed in Scripture, is merely a suggestion, then no one in their right mind would ever choose it. Who would rather die when she might live? Who would rather forsake everything when he might keep it instead? Who would choose to be hated and despised, when she might otherwise be popular and esteemed?
God knows that we would choose wrongly, if left up to our own decision-making processes. And that is why He doesn’t suggest – He commands and then He enables. He knows that there is only one way to be rescued and that is for us to agree with Him and come into alignment with His way of doing things, and then allow ourselves to be equipped by His very Presence dwelling within us.
The true Christian life, whether we like it or not, is intended to be an offense to this world. It’s a bad smell in the room. It’s that one thing that everyone, in one voice, wants removed from the premises. For its presence causes a sting of conviction, or worse, a forewarning of condemnation. The true Christian life shines as a light into the darkness and, as a simple note of fact, the darkness prefers it dark.
These past twenty or so years, God’s been taking me through, what I call The School of the Prophet. It’s like boot camp for the soul. It’s not learning how to handle guns and hand grenades, no, it’s learning how to handle rejection, slander, betrayal, and cold shoulders. It’s learning how to go as a sheep to the slaughter, hang on crosses and forgive those that seek my destruction. It’s learning how to stand firm even if everyone else around me sits soft. It’s learning to follow God’s lead, even when it’s to the death of my reputation or to the loss of all I hold dear.
Oh, I still have a long way to go, but God has seriously altered the person of Eric Ludy over the past twenty years. From people pleaser to Gospel proclaimer – I’ve been transformed.
Probably one of the number one things I’ve had to learn in this “school,” is that God isn’t suggesting me to follow Him down the narrow Way. He’s saying, “Eric, this is the way, walk ye in it! Don’t turn to the right or to the left! Make sure that cross is on your shoulder and that you are completely dead, and then walk!” He’s commanding me to follow – for my own good!
Such a school may not sound very appealing to you. And yet from personal experience I can honestly say that I have found the vestibule of heaven in choosing to walk this narrow way. I have found that the greater the degree I yield in givenness to God, the greater the liberty of soul I have found – it’s a constant journey into greater depths of His love and grace. I have real joy, real peace, and real confidence for real-world living.
I ask you to consider signing up for The School of the Prophet. Please join me in this extraordinary boot camp. You don’t need a wad of cash to enter, in fact, you need nothing. Nothing, that is, but a broken and contrite spirit yielded wholly to God.
So, dear Christians, lift your goblets of vinegar into the air, for I have a toast to make.
Here’s to being ridiculed, slandered, mocked, abused, and crucified with big smiles on our faces, love in our hearts, and forgiveness ever on our lips!

Paging Pastor Keroff

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 22:58:25 -0600

A few months back, I received a very polite invitation to speak from a man named Pastor Keroff. I decided last autumn that, yes, by golly, I was going to make myself available to speak again (at least a few times a year). For the first eight years of our ministry, Leslie and I traveled the world speaking. To be honest, I wondered if I would ever willfully get on a plane again after that stretch of our lives was complete. To many people, traveling the world sounds rather romantic, but to be quite frank, it’s hard work living out of a suitcase.
Pastor Keroff offered an enticing package. He didn’t have the money to pay my typical honorarium and he had a church that was (cough) less than a hundred people in size. Now, typically, the answer from our booking agents of yesteryear would have been, “Uh, do you think you could attempt to coordinate with five or six other churches in order to put on a city-wide gathering?
But something about this situation was different. Pastor Keroff wasn’t looking for a bone to throw his bored congregation, you know, something to add some spice to their otherwise dull spiritual agenda. His interest wasn’t pastorally passive. This man was hungry for something. Something, that I must admit, I’m hungry for too. He told me that he wants real Christianity, manly Christianity in Centerville, Iowa. He wants to get outside the American Christian way of doing things, and get back to the historic fire, the stuff of old, the blazing holiness of Almighty God come to visit His people.
“I want a solemn assembly, Eric,” he said simply. “I want to understand brokenness before the Throne of God. I want to be laid in the dust. I want whatever is necessary, no matter how painful it might be, in order to see our God gain His place again in His Church.”
I decided to accept the invite for one reason and one reason alone - Pastor Keroff. Just as he is hungry for Truth, for Biblically-governed revival, and the Spirit of God to place a harness about the neck of the modern church – I’m hungry to be around men of such steel and resolve.
I believe the trajectory of the modern evangelical church system is aimed straight into the dirt. Christianity has a serious limp. It’s burdened with a thousand trifling issues that make it nearly impossible for an eager student of the Gospel to get the pure stuff of Scripture without it being first strained through the fine filter of cultural sensitivity, worldliness, off-kilter renderings of Scripture, and post-modern relativism. We’re not spitting out Hudson Taylors, A.W. Tozers, Amy Carmichaels, Charles Spurgeons, Leonard Ravenhills, and George Mullers from our Bible schools anymore. Rather, we have the “Emergent” elite that have taken over the pulpits of our country. For every Pastor Keroff with a hundred hungry souls under his care, we have a Rob Bell delivering his pabulum to tens of thousands who are unwittingly drinking his poison without guard or concern.
The best selling books in Christendom today are “Emergent” books. They have taken the entire system by storm, selling millions upon millions of copies. Barnes and Noble loves them. After all, they sell, but more than that, they sell a rendition of Christianity that actually can fit right into the world without any tension, without all this “Jesus is the only way” stuff standing in the way. Men like Brian McLaren, Doug Padgett, Donald Miller, Tony Jones, and Leonard Sweet have crafted a religion, wholly other than the Christian one they profess, and, like snake oil peddlers, they have sold it to the parched masses of our day.
So, is Pastor Keroff of Centerville, Iowa, the only one of his kind? Is there only one man out there who is longing for the real stuff once again? Is there only one man standing to stem this tide?
Pastor Keroff is a Pentecostal. Yep, that’s right, Eric Ludy went and spoke at a Pentecostal church. And I’d do it again, if there is a Pastor Keroff leading it. I believe that the stuff of Pentecost is the precise stuff we need again in the Church. I just happen to despise as heresy most of what parades under that reckless banner in our modern day. Just as much as there is an Emergent mess, we also have a “Holy Spirit” mess. A mess so deep, mind you, that it’s leaders can’t keep their pants on, their mouths shut, or their doctrine even remotely close to that of the Bible.
I, for one, am tired of this circus act known as the Church. There are honest-to-goodness believers in these messed up churches who are hanging on for dear life on this roller coaster of spiritual craziness. There are countless believers out there that are concerned about what is taking place around them, but they feel like the problem lies with them. In fact, whenever they have voiced their concern, that is precisely what they have been told. “The problem lies with you, Mrs. Fields. The rest of us on the steering committee feel that having a Starbucks franchise in our lobby is precisely what God meant when he said, ‘pick up your cross and follow me!’”
I believe that men, like Pastor Keroff, are rare, yes. But I believe there are more of them out there than any one of us might believe. There might very well be a hundred Pastor Keroffs out there – a thousand, seven thousand – who knows? But each of them feels too small to make a difference. They have all been sold on the notion that their voice only really counts when they get a congregation well over a thousand. But this is simply not true.
Now is the time for all the Pastor Keroffs to arise and let their passion be felt, their voices be heard. I believe that if this mess is going to be cleaned up, we can’t wait for the mega-church pastors to do it. We need the small guys. The guys that don’t yet have so much that they aren’t willing to lose it all for the sake of Christ’s Glory and Fame.
“Paging Pastor Keroff!”
I think that’s a good by-line for this website. We need the small guys to stand up. And that means you. You don’t have to be a pastor to let your passion be felt and your voice be heard. You just need to be willing to be the first one to die. You can’t expect to be patted on the back, but rather, you must expect to be rejected of men, hated, and despised.
You see, this is the reason the church is dying today. We somehow lost the grand notion that following Christ means to join the ranks of the hated and despised. And to get the triumphant church back, we must return to that ancient reality, that gritty thinking, that heavenly-minded living that has always governed the true Church.
I just returned from Centerville, Iowa, where I spent three days with the real-life Pastor Keroff and his hundred sheep. It was a taste of heaven on earth. The town of Centerville is economically oppressed, and the church barely squeaks by financially. But there was such warmth and life there. They didn’t have many of the bells and whistles of the typical churches of our day, but they had a depth of love and conviction of spirit that is hardly ever seen, anywhere. And I would say, that in contrast with the hundreds of mega-churches that I’ve spoken in over the years, this little church has more of the real thing (though they be in Podunk, Iowa) than all the others. And it wouldn’t surprise me, if God picked a man like Pastor Keroff to lead a true revival in this land.
Do we actually think God is going to use a big name superstar that itches for the glory? Do we actually think that God is going to recruit the aid of men that consider congregational dollars over biblical sense? Do we think God searches high and low for magnetic speakers, eloquent writers, and crafty theologians?
God is looking for humble men. Men that do not consider 100 sheep to small for them. Men that think about God’s reputation above their own. Men that aren’t just interested in spiritual power, signs and wonders, and fireworks displays in the sanctuary, but are harnessed by the Spirit to do only that which the Father is doing. Men that pray. Men of purity. Men of holiness. Men that actually believe that God’s Word is, in truth, the Word of God.
God is looking for men that won’t get in the way of what He is needing to do.
Paging Pastor Keroff!
If you are a Pastor Keroff, I want to meet you. If you know a Pastor Keroff then please introduce us. It is my desire that this website be used to connect all those seemingly inconsequential little voices out there into one gigantic roar. I firmly believe that there is an army of us out there. We want the real thing and we simply refuse to accept this modern rendition as the New Testament pattern. The glory of our God is at stake, so let’s stand shoulder to shoulder and fight!

The Bravehearted Gospel

Mon, 23 Feb 2009 14:29:19 -0700

“So, Mr. Ludy, I hate to pester you, but could you kindly inform me when exactly I should expect the Bravehearted Gospel website to finally be up and running?”
Now some of you probably have absolutely no idea what “the Bravehearted Gospel website” even is. While others of you have been checking online every day since August 1st of last year to finally get a peek at this “legendary” website.
I remember having our web guy put up a notice on the front page of this “soon-to-be” site that read, “Coming September 1st, 2008.” When August 20th rolled around, we quickly changed that to “Coming Fall 2008.” What you don’t probably know, is that the site was originally supposed to go live on August 1st, 2008.
When Fall 2008 began to fade like a distant memory, we began to have new problems. Most of these problems wouldn’t be appropriate to air online and unfortunately involve real-world people, but let it suffice to say that everything that had gone into the website up to that point (which was an awful lot) basically went adios. Those of you that were checking daily, probably noticed that one day the website home page was there and then the next day it simply disappeared. Ah, the joys of website development.
Unfortunately, due to all these unforeseen roadblocks, the Bravehearted Gospel website has been unable, as of yet, to gain web-world fame. I say that tongue-in-cheek, because, as we all know, Facebook will not view this humble little site as valid competition. But it’s still fun to dream of the true Gospel, with all it’s manly stuff intact, taking over the hearts and minds of the world-wide Church and somehow becoming the most-searched topic on Google.
The Bravehearted Gospel website was originally being put-together for a couple key purposes:
1) To unite like-minded believers, who were ready to stand for the historic stuff of Christianity.
2) To enable those “like-minded” believers to practically link together to proclaim the Gospel, rescue the oppressed, and ultimately, change the world.
In other words, we weren’t dreaming small. But, what I’ve often found is that, when you dream big, the enemy moves extra resources into the picture to counteract and steal momentum, and hopefully, completely undermine the project.
Well, I must admit, this seemingly insignificant website has had its share of difficulties and opposition. What was it that Charlie Brown said? “Good grief?” Well, “good grief” has been precisely what this site has been to me.
But, I refuse to back down. So, even after the loss of tens of thousands of dollars and multiple hundreds of man-hours, the nose is again to the grindstone. Because, no matter how little support the Bravehearted Gospel seems to generate from the mega-churched millions today, it’s all I think about, care about, and long to see infused into the heart of Christ’s Bride.
I’m not sure that the website is going to be as epic as was originally planned. At one point, it was a lot more extensive, but through all its trials, it’s gone on a significant diet and lost some weight. But as we move forward, we plan to pack a little more muscle on its frame. But no matter its size to start, it’s still going to be loaded with the manly gene - plenty of inspiration for your trek down the narrow way of the Cross.
So back to the question.
When can you reasonably expect to see this crazy site up and going?
Well, I’m hoping that we can have a skeleton site up and running within the next couple weeks. I’m going to try and have all the original videos that we created included. So, for those of you wanting to gain access to the videos, “Run” and “Come,” we should be able to get those into your virtual hands soon. And, by the way, if you have any brilliant ideas for the site, I would love to hear them (please post comments below).
The Church of Jesus Christ today is in desperate need of the manly stuff of our King. So, if you are a champion for such a cause, and are willing to get a little roughed up for the Gospel – I’m looking for some men and women to fight alongside, shoulder to shoulder, for the Kingdom and the Glory of our King.
So, everyone, hold your sparkling-cider-filled goblets in the air. I have a toast to make. Here’s to websites that launch on time, a really tasty grapefruit, a sermon by Charles Spurgeon, an evening just with the family, and the manly stuff of the Gospel piercing the heart and convicting the soul (not necessarily in that order).

Click Here to purchase the book, The Bravehearted Gospel: the truth is worth fighting for
Click Here to find the audio message, entitled, The Emergent Church, that used to be on the braveheartedgospel.com home page

The Warrior-Poet's Dream

Wed, 11 Feb 2009 13:24:48 -0700

Let’s crawl into the cranial lobe of an honest-to-goodness real-life man of God. (And, yes, girls, this breed of male does actually exist – like the Arctic Wolf, they are out there somewhere behaving regal and strong, though they are a seriously endangered species.)
In this manly cranial lobe, we will find, outside of countless meditations on the grandeur and glory of the King of kings, a perplexing and nagging thought. It’s a thought that pesters this poor man and keeps him awake at night and has led him to hours of diligent prayer in search of an answer.
The thought translates a bit differently in the heart and mind of every true warrior poet, but it always goes something like this:
“Are there really girls out there in this world that are absolutely consumed with Jesus Christ; girls that are noble, courageous, mysterious, pure, and truly beautiful? Is this path of true manhood meant to be a lonely journey, or is it possible that there might actually be a young woman out there who shares in my singular passion for the Glory of Jesus Christ and delights to pour her existence into the service of His Kingdom?”
Well, all you lonely warrior-poets take heart: Christ-consumed girls do exist in this world. Yes, truly set-apart young women have become a rare breed. But they are out there, and God is building more and more of them all the time. In fact, this June, Leslie and I will have the supreme privilege of hosting a large gathering of young women who will come together from around the country (even the world) with one common desire – to live solely and completely for Jesus Christ. Leslie’s Set-apart Girl Conference (June 5-7, 2009 in Greeley, Colorado) is an event I wish every warrior-poet out there could attend. This conference is exactly what every true God-built man dreams about. No, I’m not referring to lustful, selfish dreams. Not at all! In the most princely pure-hearted way, a man of God desires to see women of God fashioned by the Almighty Potter’s hand into demonstrations of true world-altering femininity. For there is truly nothing more beautiful!
Unfortunately, guys, you are not invited to the Set Apart Girl conference in June. If we opened it up to guys, I have a hunch we would have the wrong sort show up (if you catch my drift). It is a girls-only conference (unless of course you happened to be married to the one heading the whole thing up and your name is Eric Ludy.)
So guys, I’m writing this to let you know that the pestering perplexing thought within your cranial lobe actually has an answer. It’s yes – a thousand yesses! There are girls out there who are willing to lay their lives down for the cause of Christ. Like Amy Carmichael, they are willing to leave everything to serve him overseas; like Jackie Pullenger, they are eager to pour out their lives for the least; and like Gladys Aylward, they yearn to fight for the glory of God even if it means the diminishment of themselves. Set-apart young women are stunningly beautiful – for they radiate with the love of heaven.
So guys, even though you won’t be able to participate in this year’s Set-Apart Girl’s Conference, at least you can know that girls who are aimed in this direction are actually out there.
“So, how can I marry one of these girls?” all the guys out there might be wondering.
Leslie and I have joked for years that we could start up the ultimate matchmaking service. But then we remind ourselves that we wrote a book entitled, “When God Writes Your Love Story.” We believe that the absolute best way to build lifelong love stories is to allow God to hold the pen and script the story. An Eric and Leslie Ludy written love story might have a sparkle of romance in it, but it just couldn’t match up with God’s version.
Girls, if the type of femininity I’ve described in this blog is something you esteem, we hope you will consider joining Leslie this June in Colorado. It’s an event that can encourage you down the path of set-apart womanhood and forever alter your life .
Guys, if you want to see young women shaped into pictures of set-apart femininity, then please encourage the Christ-hungry girls in your life to consider attending this life-changing weekend.
Every warrior-poet has a dream. And it’s not just a dream to get married to a truly set-apart woman of God. Rather, it’s a dream to see femininity once-again become as it ought to be.
Here’s to the stunning beauty of a God-fashioned girl!

Listen to Leslie’s Podcast, entitled, The 2009 Set-Apart Girl’s Conference
Visit the Conference information page
Get married to a set-apart girl!

An Ode to Wallace (and grapefruit)

Fri, 6 Feb 2009 17:13:04 -0700

My grandfather’s favorite book was Scottish Chiefs. And I have to admit, it ranks pretty high on my personal list of favorites as well. I’ve read it many times and every time it literally takes my breath away. It somehow feels as if it is more than mere literature. That book possesses some odd ability to reach inside my chest, captivate my heart and make it feel the noblest manliest sentiments.
Scottish Chiefs is a book penned in 1820 about the life and heroics of Sir William Wallace. One of my dear friends, Nathan, knowing my love for the book, found an old copy of it from the 1800’s and gave it to me a month ago. It was a great gift. And I packed it in my suitcase and took it on our family’s latest excursion to California.
It’s become a tradition every night (for the past 18 days) for us to read the great adventures of William Wallace out loud. The kids go down around 8pm and then Annie, our tireless nanny, heads into the kitchen to whip up her masterpiece – Grapefruit Surprise. I think I’m addicted to the stuff. She scoops out all the juicy chunks from five or six grapefruits and then she squeezes them of all their remaining liquid scrumptiousness. In a big chilled bowl she serves up her famous desert. Annie calls it Grapefruit Soup. To be honest, I think the idea of the word “grapefruit” and “soup” being combined in the description of a singular food is unsettling. So, much to Annie’s chagrin, I’ve renamed it Grapefruit Surprise. Yes, I realize that this is not a particularly impressive name either, but it’s at least an upgrade from “soup.”
So here’s how our nights typically unfold. While Annie is carving up grapefruits, Leslie is feeding baby Kip his final meal of the night. It’s at that point that I pick up the old worn book and begin waxing eloquent out of the pages of this venerable volume. (NOTE: if you can actually pronounce the words, this book makes whoever is reading appear very intellectual and poetic.) And soon after the reading starts, we are all engrossed. And though we are still in modern America, we somehow all feel brought back to a more honorable age.
Now I know that most of you have probably never read the book, so the following words may fall a bit flat when I say them, but, I’m going to say them nonetheless: We need the stuff of Scottish Chiefs crammed back into the hearts and minds of the modern Christian man and woman.
Christianity has lost it’s epic wonder, it’s been shortchanged in grandeur and majesty. It’s lost it’s sense of honor, dignity, and heavenly decorum.
For years, people have accused Leslie and I of being old-fashioned. Since it was always spoken with disdain, I’ve often spent time attempting to counter such a claim, making it quite clear that what we are talking about is fresh and vital. However, I’m starting to think that maybe, I should just say, “yeah, you are right.” The Truths we esteem are not new and emergent, they are not dead and dusty – rather, they are historic and venerable. Yes, they are old, but they are not decrepit. They are strong and powerful and able to transform not just an individual soul, but a world full of individual souls.
If you stand up Scottish Chiefs against one of the popular Emergent treatise, such as Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz, it’s shocking how far we have sunk. Scottish Chiefs isn’t even a Christian book and yet it’s richly-laden with pictures of radical givenness to the glory and honor of Jesus Christ. Scottish Chief’s captures the beauty, honor, and nobility of Heaven – whereas, Blue Like Jazz is the equivalent of a gigantic burp in the Holy of Holies.
Today’s version of Christianity is sort of like a Jerry Seinfeld sitcom. It’s cordial, fun, and community-driven – but it’s myopic in its scope, it’s smallish in its mentalities, not to mention crass and completely lacking the fear of God.
Christianity throughout the ages is grand, and its themes are world altering. It’s always been the combination of action adventure meets romantic drama. Sort of Lord of the Rings meets Jane Austin. And that is why I like Scottish Chiefs, it’s a picture of the death-defying, and yet supremely romantic, adventure of the Kingdom of Heaven. It’s the nobility, honor, and love of heaven showcased in real living color on planet earth.
I wish all of you could join us for tonight’s reading. Last night Wallace fought to reclaim Dumbarton Rock from the English, set free the Earl of Mar, and took a gigantic step forward in securing the liberty of his beloved Scotland. There were multiple moments last night when my heart was beating with such great enthusiasm for the valor and kingly honor of Wallace, that I had to stop reading and regain my composure. This book moves me.
If any of you would like to dig a little deeper into this grand and noble version of Christianity, then I would encourage you to check out my three latest discipleship sessions from the series entitled, “Company of Heroes.”
As I am finishing up this blog entry, I have found myself quite eager to have a large bowlful of Grapefruit Surprise tonight. I just peeked into the kitchen, and yes, there are plenty of grapefruit waiting to be transformed into a delectable dessert. So, it’s official, William Wallace and Grapefruit Surprise are both on the docket for eight o’clock sharp! Oh, isn’t life good!

The Manifesto

Thu, 29 Jan 2009 20:37:01 -0700

A lot of people come to our website in search of a “statement of faith”. They are wondering, what do these two really believe deep down? Books only go so deep in answering theological and doctrinal questions, and so they come here to our website to find a clear-cut statement that will prove us to be certifiably insane or surprisingly normal. I’m sure we fall somewhere in-between.
Leslie and I rarely do things the way everyone else does. And when it comes to “statements of faith” we have chosen to violate and ignore the common practice for more of an old-fashioned, historic, and much more risky one – we decided to put together a manifesto.
Manifestos are similar to statements in that they speak straight, but they are different in that they go deep, more into the personal realm of faith, understanding, and conviction.
Modern ministries tend to say in their “statements of faith” everything they know everyone else will already agree with. It’s sort of our modern way of finding places of connectedness, validating unity, and generally feeling more comfortable about sending our kid’s off to the Christian summer camp. “Oh, well they believe that Jesus was God! Great! Let’s turn our kids over to them for a month!”
A manifesto of faith is a bit more daring. It goes beyond the typical expectations of a “statement” and actually clarifies the thinking, the understanding, and the “stuff” behind the final proclamation. And to be honest, it’s this “behind the scenes” stuff that often gets people in trouble. But, in our opinion, it’s the “behind the scenes” stuff that really matters. You can have a perfectly orthodox sounding “statement” but have a perfectly messed up existence and thusly messed up ministry.
We chose to put together a manifesto because a manifesto is a declaration of allegiance, a proclamation of which side of the chalk line you are going to stand on. “Statements” seem more fit for board meetings, articles of incorporation, and church bulletins, but manifestos are built for the working class, those laboring down on the docks, who want to know what sort of a fellow you really are down deep. Manifestos are for the blue collar sort, the ones that don’t care about big words and fancy rhetoric, they simply want to know where you really stand, which side you are actually on, and if you are willing to put it all on the line for what you are barking about. Manifestos are for revolutionaries. And we believe that our generation is wanting it straight.
Leslie and I feel passionately about the Truth of Scripture. We spend our lives for the very things contained herein this Manifesto. This is what we believe, we live, we teach, we preach, and we are compelled to press into the hearts and minds of our generation. These ideas are not merely head knowledge to us, but heart knowledge. This Gospel lives and breathes within our moment-by-moment existence. And it is our desire that this Manifesto might light and fan into flame the same roaring fire in your soul that burns in ours.
NOTE: the manifesto contents below were designed to be read in order, but feel free to jump around if one really strikes your fancy.

Should We Name Names?

Fri, 23 Jan 2009 10:54:21 -0700

I have received an inordinate amount of flak over these past three weeks. I’m quite used to flak, but this particular case has been a bit exaggerated and cartoonish in its volume.
Now, I’ve received plenty of flak over the years that was blunt, crude, and wholly dishonorable, and to be quite honest, this current wave of “flak” was administered, for the most part, in great love and kindness. Though some dealt it out with forceful indignation, most of those bearing the blunt sword of correction were very courteous in their blows.
You see, I did something I wasn’t supposed to do. I did the classic “no-no.”
There are certain unwritten rules in the modern system of Christian thought – sort of a cultural code. It’s not wholly off-base, but it finds its moorings far more in cultural sensitivities than in the Word of God.
So what got all this flak flying?
Well, I knowingly pricked one of the cultural sensitivity points a few weeks back in one of my 3-minute Moody Radio Broadcasts. I did the unthinkable. I named names.
There is a great irony at play here.
Those closest to me know full and well that I’m not a “name dropper,” let alone a “name basher.” Typically, when it comes to the state of the modern church, I know a lot more than I let on, and for the sake of decency, honor, and decorum, my lips remain sealed on certain leader’s lives and certain modern ministry activities.
I live with a tension of soul. For I absolutely detest slander and gossip. I hate the unfair revilement and false accusation that takes place in the Body of Christ today under the banner of “because I love them so much, I need to divulge this juicy tidbit.” Such gossip and fleshly talk is sin, plain and simple.
The most basic construct of honor and respect is missing from the architectural design of the modern Christian man and woman. So, I’m hand-n-hand with all of those that detest this base behavior, this self-applauding diminishment of everyone else that holds to a slightly different view or of others who may look a little odd.
But, as I said, I live with a tension. For as much as I hate the mishandling of intimate and personal information within the modern Church today, there are things that I see that, if they are not publicly addressed, will certainly destroy the spiritual lives of countless thousands, if not millions of modern believers.
So, how should I handle this tension of soul?
To speak or not to speak - that is the question.
Well, this is the identical tension that Christ faced when surrounded by a religious system that was man-centered rather than God-centered. It is the same tension that Paul faced throughout the entirety of his earthly ministry, as he wrestled for holiness within Christ’s church but faced the very real snarl of wolves within the sheep pen of God’s people.
How does one honor, respect, edify, and protect the sheep and at the same time effectively remove the salivating wolves from the premises?
You see, we have a conundrum today. No one actually believes that there is such a thing as wolves masquerading as sheep in the modern church. Oh, we know that they are rampant in other world religions, but certainly they are not within the corridors of believers. To think such a thought would be judgmental and mean-spirited. So, as a result, we are prohibited from even allowing such thoughts to be entertained, even though Scripture not only says categorically that such wolves are and will be present, but it commands us to “mark” them and avoid them. And any one who brings up such a notion, is one of those spite-filled, angry sorts that spends his days attempting to drum up dirt on significant leaders so as to soil their reputations and harm their important ministries.
Start searching on the web for dirt on your favorite leader, and you are sure to find it. And, it’s all too true, that most of those out there shouting to high heaven about the heresies, the false prophets, and the warlocks in disguise, are, in deed, whackos themselves deserving investigation.
So as a result, we find ourselves in a very bad place. We feel compelled, these days, to allow any and all to lead, shepherd, and direct the flock of Christ, no matter their doctrine, no matter their personal life, and no matter the detriment that their ministry may have upon the souls of men and women. “Because,” we say, “who are we to touch the Lord’s anointed?”
I would like to use Todd Bentley as a brief example of how dangerous this modern mentality truly is.
Though you may never have heard of him, Todd Bentley, as recently as five months ago was an international Christian mega-star. He had countless millions in the palm of his hand. He was the figure-head of what was known as the Lakeland Revival. Physical healings, gold dust, hysterical laughter, and angel’s feathers were seen in the places he spoke.
His doctrine was atrocious, his knowledge of the Bible almost non-existent, his plea for the souls of rebel men to be made right with a holy God was hardly whispered, and his personal life was a mess. The man was violent up on stage. He kneed people in the gut, he close-lined people, he even head-butted them, all supposedly because that is what God asked him to do.
But, here’s the scary thing. No one was allowed to say anything. After all, who can question what “God” was telling this “anointed” man to do. And as a result, after Mr. Bentley ran off with his secretary and his secret life of alcoholic binging was exposed, hundreds of thousands of people were left holding the bag of disillusionment and inner soul crisis. (Note: by mentioning the behavior of Mr. Bentley, I in no way wish to infer that the Lakeland Revival itself held no merit, though I am definitely forced to question it and measure it against Scripture. A very dear friend of mine, whom I spiritually hold in very high esteem, said to me, “Eric, I saw some very genuine repentance through Lakeland and I saw the authentic work of God in spite of the circus act.”)
So, do you see the tension that I’m facing? I am the last guy to name names, but I also can’t just sit by and let wolves devour the unwitting sheep of God.
To me the issue at stake is the Word of God. This is what this all comes down to. Depending on how we handle the Sacred Scriptures, defines how we address this growing problem within the Body of Christ.
For instance, the Emergent Church is laboring to remove the supernatural unchanging essence of the Bible from the modern Christian mind.
“It’s just a narrative,” they say. “It’s a great book, yes, but it’s simply a book written by good men that is endorsed by God. It’s not actually God’s Words.”
Then you have the men like Todd Bentley, who receive something from God called “rhema” words – words like “head-butt NOW!” These are words that supersede, and somehow trump, the words of Scripture and therefore, shouldn’t be called into question even if they contradict the timeless oracle of God as revealed in the Bible.
Now both of these illustrations are extremes, that most in their respective camps would distance themselves from. But this is the governing mentality that is defining where each camp is headed and why they are allowing such low-class, spiritually-debased leadership into their ranks. When the Word of God is downplayed, then the litmus test for wolves is suddenly missing at the very moment the furry beast strolls into the sheep pen.
The Emergent “narrative” ploy and the “rhema” word concept, both have an appeal to the followers in these Christian circles. And, as a result, people that otherwise would see the danger, are subtly numbed to the prick of concern and remain silent, submitting to the wisdom from “the masters.”
But in either case, the Word of God is being diminished and being, oh-so-subtly, removed from it’s place of honor and authority in and amongst the Church of God. And in both situations, men are the lone mediums through which the Truth of God can be found. In both situations, God is being ousted.
And when the Strong Shepherd is ousted via the removal of His Word, then the wolves can come in and play.
I am not a doom and gloom sort of guy. I’m as happy and nice as they come. To be honest, I’d prefer to spread hope and redemption than fire and brimstone. However, due to my intense interest in the glory of my great King, I am moved to speak.
I’m saddened to admit this, but I have been giving an indistinct war cry for years. I’ve seen these things, just mentioned, for nearly seventeen years now in various and evolving forms. Leslie and I know a great many of the modern leaders of our day. We’ve interacted with them behind-the-scenes, we know their agents, their publishers, and their methods. I’ve seen a lot of junk, and I haven’t said a thing about it.
Let me correct that, I have said things, but they were indistinct warnings. Things like, “we’ve got some serious problems in Christianity today.” I’ve found that people tend to agree with me on points like this. When you give an indistinct war cry, everyone nods in concert, however, no one sees what you were actually talking about. It’s like saying, “there are problems with the sidewalk up ahead.” Everyone agrees and then they all step right into the hole and twist their ankles because they were never warned specifically.
People know there are problems, but they presume the problems are unrelated to them. It’s everyone else’s church, the books everyone else is reading, and the conferences those other people are attending that are creating all these modern issues.
Long and short – everyone likes me when I remain indistinct and vague. But when I mention their favorite pastor as the one duping the masses, their favorite book as the one full of junk, and their favorite church as the place where men are being made into girls – then suddenly I find that my list of friends shrinks overnight.
Todd Bentley is not Eric’s enemy. If I mention Todd Bentley it is not because I have an ax to grind. If he were my next door neighbor, I’m sure we would have a pleasant relationship. This isn’t a personal attack. It’s because a distinct alarm must sound so that people can see the dangers around them and seek to either escape from them or see clearly to actually correct them.
Should I confront Todd privately prior to voicing my concerns publicly?
Well, that wholly depends on the situation. In this case, since Todd has taken this circus act public and has demonstrated all of these above-mentioned things publicly, the issue is not a private matter between the two of us, but a public church matter in need of being addressed openly. The steps of Matthew 18 (the pattern for personal confrontation with a believer who offends) is set out as a way of handling personal offenses and not public ones. Jesus didn’t sit down and talk through all his concerns with King Herod before he called him a “fox” in the Biblical record. He didn’t sit down to privately confront the Scribes and Pharisees before he publicly denounced them as “hypocrites, blind guides, fools, whitewashed tombs, and a generation of snakes.”
Yes, we must show honor to those in our church community by not blabbing about them behind their backs and accuse them hurtfully when they can offer no defense. But we also, must protect this same church community by clarifying those dressed in sheep costumes that are in fact dangerous wolves.
I believe this is an issue of utmost importance in the modern Church. I believe it must be handled with the greatest care, as well as the greatest seriousness.
We must know what to do with those that are endangering the people of God.
Are we to stay silent and let them continue to delude the masses? Or are we to speak? And if we are to speak, how then should we go about doing it?
I say, speak, but do not speak rashly. Weigh every word before the Bar of Heaven and test it against the full counsel of Scripture before it exits either your mouth or your pen. And do not speak with the stain of self or flesh upon your words, otherwise, even greater damage will be made. Love, gentleness, and honor must precede us and must be our rear guard.
The Church of Jesus Christ has been infiltrated. I don’t say this lightly. It’s a simple matter of fact. There are men and women in our midst that know how to play the game, but their end goal is not the Glory of God, but rather, the diminishment of that Glory. And, to be clear, not all leaders that are diminishing the Glory of God are “wolves.” There are many who are simply sloppy souls. They are not purposely attempting to diminish Truth, even though that is precisely what they are doing. Both are dangerous to the Body of Christ, one being diabolical and one being nothing more than the result of a wimpy diluted gospel.
Christian leadership must be held to a higher level of accountability. It cannot be treated as if it were above the Word of God – but, in fact, it must submit itself to the governance of the Word of God. And wherever it is not in alignment, it is up to us, the eager searchers of Scripture, to raise up the blueprint and measure them against it.
Oh, and just in case you are wondering – knees to the gut, close-lining, and head butting are not a part of God’s Kingdom pattern for his leaders. So, if you see it, and are a bit concerned – you are right to be.
Yes, I did a big no-no. I mentioned names. I found absolutely no pleasure in doing it, but I did it. I did it because I honestly believe these men are endangering the Church of Jesus Christ. If I encountered these men today, I would love them with all the love of Jesus Christ. Not a hollow love, but a love that is willing to hold a whip in hand and do a little house-cleaning.

Technology for Country Folk

Tue, 13 Jan 2009 08:26:01 -0700

A buddy of mine forwarded me a hilarious email this morning (thanks, Paul). You might have already seen it. It’s called “Technology for Country Folk.” It has a simple message, and I can’t say that it is overly complimentary to all those who are missing a front tooth, have a fetish for wearing plaid, and who never properly learned the Queen’s English. It’s basically demonstrating that “country folk” have their own definitions for all the words the “city dwellers” use. For instance, the word “download,” out in the sticks means, “Gitten the farwood oft’n the truck.” And the phrase “Mega Hertz” means “When yere not keerful gitten the farwood (and it has this picture of a guy cutting firewood missing his pointer finger and feeling “mega hertz”). It’s quite funny. (click here to see it)
Now, whereas, this blog could be quite entertaining if I just spent my time discussing the hyperbolized oddities of “country folk,” I feel that it would also lack any purpose or benefit for real life.
You see, what this little picture about “Country Technology” did for me was remind me about the vast language difference between “modern Christians” and what God says Christianity actually IS inside the Word of God. I would propose that the word “discrepancy” is not a strong enough word to describe the vast chasm between the two.
I cobbled together a short list this morning in order to make a point. By no means is it an exhaustive list, but it should suffice in at least generating a discussion. (NOTE: I’m sorry, but I don’t have any clever cartoon drawings for those of you that need that extra visual touch to really catch the drift.)

Faith
Biblical idea: absolute assurance that God will perform all that He promises
Modern Idea: honest doubt and cynicism towards to the words and ideas of Scripture

Love
Biblical idea: selfless givenness to the Kingdom priorities of God
Modern Idea: self-satisfying emotions gushing through the heart accompanied by the notion that God overlooks all sin and delights in always cleaning up our messes.

Righteousness
Biblical idea: the way God is and the blueprint after which man is intended to be built
Modern Idea: a legalistic standard of perfection that God set us free from needing to follow

Grace
Biblical idea: the power of God given to men to enable them to become as they ought and to carry out all the errands and purposes of God on this earth
Modern Idea: God’s covering over of all of our grime and gook and putting up with us in spite of our junk

Holiness
Biblical idea: the nature of God that is completely ‘other’ than this world in all manner of thought, word, and action
Modern Idea: the stiff aspiration of the religious soul seeking to curry the favor of God in an unhealthy manner

Prayer
Biblical idea: the labor of the saints necessary to bring, in actuality, the power, promises, and purposes of God to this earth in living color and demonstration
Modern Idea: the smarmy repeating of simple mantras to pacify an insecure God who, for some reason, needs to have us talk to him a lot

The Bible
Biblical idea: The supernaturally built, timeless, unchanging pattern of God’s Kingdom, given complete and without flaw
Modern Idea: a book constructed by men and merely put up with by God

The Gospel
Biblical idea: the Life of God has been sacrificed and given to men to save them from both the penalty and the enslavement to sin, in order that they might gain access to the mighty war chest of Grace and thusly be transformed into the image of the Son, become the heart-friends of the Heavenly King, and live as more than conquerors, right here and right now on earth and for all eternity
Modern Idea: Jesus Christ died merely to make a way for our sin to be overlooked and give us an entrance ticket into heaven

Jesus Christ
Biblical idea: God, The Righteous Judge, King of kings, Lord of lords, Almighty Creator of the Universe, Compassionate Master, Beloved Dictator, Merciful Governor, Rescuing all who call on His Name and riding on the White Steed of purity to bring war on all that would stand against His Name and Nature
Modern Idea: a guy hanging out with us in the park with his long hair pulled back in a pony-tail, a beer in his right hand and a football in his left, saying, ‘Hey man! After the ballgame, let’s check out the latest Quentin Tarantino flick. You need to really loosen up and let live!”

Is anyone else with me on this? Whereas “Technology for Country Folk” is quite funny, I’d propose that this alteration of language in the Christian world is a travesty of travesties. In a single generation we’ve nearly entirely lost the essence of the Historic Faith, the grandeur of the Gospel, and the Majesty of the Almighty God.
I say, it’s high time we get these things back.
As Leonard Ravenhill said,
“My Lord is insulted and His Church slighted. And believe me, under this double injury, I smart. The Church has many adversaries. Can my sword sleep, then, in my hand? Never!”
Thank you all you toothless, plaid-loving, grammar-butchering “country folk” for helping these thoughts rise to the surface and for reminding me, once again, why there is a sword in my hand.

The Bill Maher Fan Club

Fri, 9 Jan 2009 08:25:38 -0700

The Bill Maher Fan Club. No, I’m not a part of this elite society. And I think the scene would be quite amusing if I ever tried to join. They would probably ask to see the secret handshake and I wouldn’t have a clue. Then they would frisk me to see if I have anything on my person that resembles the Christian religion, and lo and behold, they would find a deep abiding love for Jesus Christ and an absolute trust in His Word. I’d be out on my nose.
As the story goes, I produced my next Moody Radio installment and posted it on the web yesterday. It’s entitled “I’m Religulous.” It wasn’t really about Bill Maher’s new cinematic production, but it did swipe out at it. I didn’t design this 3-minute broadcast (of which I’m referring) to appeal to the throng of loyal Maherians spread across this earth - No, I designed it for those that hang out here, in this quiet little corner of the world where Truth still sounds somewhat normal.
Here’s the problem. Due to the technical difficulties listeners here on my website have had with my podcast (in Quicktime), I decided a couple weeks ago to produce my weekly podcasts in a YouTube video format so that they would be accessible by all. Great idea, huh? Well, when you produce something in YouTube and make it public, then it is open season on it.
I’m Religulous currently has a one-star rating on YouTube and has been raked over the coals by the Maherian watchmen that saw me using his sacred name without permission. To be honest, it has been quite humorous to watch.
I’m not a YouTube junkie by any means. Oh, over the years I’ve seen quite a few YouTube videos that have been forwarded to me by friends. But all in all, it’s not an environment that I feel comfortable in.
This leads me to my observation of the day.
I’m fascinated by the psychology behind how people approach the “leave a comment” button on YouTube videos, and for that matter, everything else on the web that can possibly be commented on.
A comment seems to me to be some sort of alter-ego expression of the otherwise tepid soul. It’s like the Halloween costume of the werewolf that the spineless little nerdy kid hops into and suddenly feels powerful and strong. This intrigues me.
Over the years Leslie and I have received countless “anonymous” comments on our books, our message, and our belief system. Some are perfectly neutral, some complimentary, but there have been others that make me blush and quickly seek out the delete button. We have had more than a few people over the years take out all their life’s frustration on us via an “anonymous” comment. Very few people have the guts to say what they actually think straight to someone’s face, and so this newly contrived “leave a comment” button has opened up a whole new range of personality types to begin expressing their real feelings.
For what it’s worth, here’s my opinion on the matter. I think that the honor of the Christ-life demands that we say nothing, write nothing, and rate nothing secretly, that we wouldn’t be willing, if necessary, to pronounce publicly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m against secret ballot, but what I’m saying is, we should be willing to stand and identify in public with everything we declare in secret. If we would be ashamed over our private declarations, then we should check them, and allow the Spirit of God to examine them before the light of Scripture.
Truly, we as Christians do not live in secret, as we might think. Everything we do is made known in the heavenlies. God knows all. There is no “alias” that we can use when living our life and making our statement of true belief before the Almighty.
I don’t agree with Bill Maher. I think the man is completely off base. However, I can say that I respect him for owning up to his comments. The guy has guts, and that isn’t something I would say about most in the modern church today.
So, dear friends, let’s riddle the web with our comments, but may they be comments that reflect the heart and mind of Jesus Christ – comments that we would be willing, if necessary, to proclaim to the entire world.
Ask yourself, do you believe what you believe enough to let the world know it?

My Carbon Footprint

Wed, 31 Dec 2008 07:52:31 -0700

Lake Superior State University has a very intriguing annual tradition. I guess someone up there in Upper Peninsula, Michigan is quite irritable when it comes to overused words. So, as is tradition, and in order to calm that irritable professor’s poor soul, the University has released it’s much-anticipated “List of Words to Be Banished from the Queen's English for Mis-use, Over-use and General Uselessness.” I guess Tuesday’s edition is the 34th version of the list – so this has been going on for sometime. And since I didn’t receive the memo prior to this, I’m sure I have been using quite a few words that actually were banished back in the late 70’s. Oops!
The list is more humorous than serious, and to be honest, you have to be well-connected to the flows of American culture to even have the slightest clue as to what these words or phrases even are. Out of the fifteen banished words and phrases, there were three that stuck out to me and resulted in this blog. Green, going green, and carbon footprint (the amount of greenhouse gases an individual's lifestyle produces).
Out of the fifteen annual banished words and phrases, this whole “green consciousness” notion got blasted. And that did two things for me – it brought a smile of satisfaction to my face and it got me thinking.
You see, I have quite a few friends in my life that are Green-with-Gusto. And, as a result, I can fully relate to the longing to see this whole “Green” terminology tossed in the recycling bin. If you are hip these days, you are “green.” If you are at all a sensitive, loving, caring, kind, and generally peace-loving soul, then you are certainly evaluating your personalized “carbon footprint,” sniffing it daily to make sure you are contributing your share back to Good Old Mother Earth.
Okay, since this is my blog, I’m going to take a paragraph or two (or five) and let you know what I think about this.
The “New” Church in America (aka The Emergent Church) is Green to the Goiter. It’s leaders (ie. Brian McLaren) preach greenness IS godliness. It measures “carbon footprints” as if it were a believer’s personal righteousness. The pitch is, “we must make the Earth a priority because God created it.”
I think about being “Green” as much as I think thoughts like, “I need to make sure I don’t carve my initials in trees, torture cats, and burn my tires in my backyard.” There are certain things that are obvious – so in many ways, I guess I’m “Green” without straining to be so. The nature of God DOES take care of His environment, there is no doubt about it. However, God’s agenda on this earth and especially in the human soul has very little (if nothing) to do with the “amount of greenhouse gases an individual's lifestyle produces.”
God IS interested in our footprint, but not our “carbon footprint.” He’s interested in our footprint of Grace, our footprint of Love, our footprint of Holiness, and our footprint of Faith, our footprint of Obedience.
The Kingdom of our God does not consist of gases and earthy loam. It’s not paranoid about Global Warming and it does not prioritize around concern for trees, owls, prairie dogs, and greenhouse gases. It prioritizes itself around human souls. It’s dead-set on the rescue of men and women, not on the rescue of whales and beavers.
It by no means seeks to undermine the health and livelihood of trees, owls, prairie dogs, whales and beavers – but they are not the object of the Cross. Jesus died so that “men” might live. His blood was shed so that an avenue might be created for the very Spirit of Almighty God to enter into the body of mere men and make it the dwelling place of the Most High.
This is the Kingdom priority!
I personally don’t see anything wrong with caring for our environment. I keep my house clean, I change my air filter, I remove dust, and I maintain a healthy atmosphere in the place I live. That’s simply common sense. But what we see today is the Church turning its attentions away from God’s priority and sticking them on the issues of this Earth instead of the issues of Heaven.
You will be accepted as a Christian if you are “Earth conscious.” You will be liked by the worldlings if you spend your energies “greening” up your life. But, I guarantee you, that you will be hated when you start making the “Footprint of Jesus” your true priority. His behavior was not sensitive to the status quo then, and it still isn’t now. He cursed the fig tree and it withered up. He altered atmospheric science, calmed winds and rains and didn’t consult the local Greenies to see how that might affect the eco-system. He promises to destroy the heavens and the earth with fire. Can you believe His gall? He’s going to make everything we labored to preserve extinct in one hot moment.
God says that He is after a “people.” He is after us, not this earth. The earth is merely the stage for the drama. It’s not supposed to be the drama itself.
So, what’s my carbon footprint? I have absolutely no idea. My goal this morning isn’t centered around the amount of greenhouse gases I’m producing, but the amount of Glory my life can bring today to the my Amazing Creator.
I love living life on planet earth. I love looking at trees, playing with dogs, staring up into the clear blue skies. I’m not against a healthy planet, but I’m willing to give up a healthy planet, if necessary, to see the men and women on this planet saved for eternity.
That is my priority and that’s the footprint I care about.
Thank you Lake Superior State University for helping me get this off my chest.

The Most Perfect Wife

Tue, 16 Dec 2008 07:40:00 -0700

Well, one of the most important days of my year has arrived. It is currently one degree outside, which is actually a heat wave in contrast with yesterday’s chill (-17 degrees). But my dear princess loves warmth – so where George Bailey offered to lasso the moon for his sweetheart – I’m thinking of lassoing the local weatherman and forcing him to change his weather forecast to sixty-nine and sunshine.
But no matter the temperature, we are going to have a wonderful day. This is a day when the machine of industry must stop, the distractions of ever-multiplying emails must be silenced, and the always ringing cellphone must be ignored. This is my dear Leslie’s birthday, and it only comes around once every three-hundred and sixty five days.
I’ve never really blogged about my love life with Leslie. I guess in some ways I feel that my love life is already chronicled inside fifteen different books. I mean what could possibly be said in a blog that could outpace When Dreams Come True or, for that matter, Meet Mr. Smith? Those books are loaded with the Ludy romance gene.
But, even at risk of repeating something that was mentioned in a previous book, and of falling short of the romantic bar already raised, I’m going to venture out afresh and let the world know what I think of my wife.
I truly believe that Leslie is the perfect woman. And, yes, that could be understood that she is the “perfect” one for me. But I would like to go beyond that and claim that I think she is what femininity should be. She is merely a thirty-three year old version of this feminine grandeur – and I’m mystified to think what the eighty-five year old version will be like. I’m convinced that it was a girl like Leslie, somewhere in history past, that originally inspired the phrase, “she takes your breath away.” For this thirty-three year old brunette is something to behold.
So what’s her beauty secret, you ask?
Well, it’s a combination of things. She possesses a feminine dignity, a mystique, that is lost today amongst women. She is not flippant with her soul, and she doesn’t trifle with anything that would diminish the priority of her King in her life. She lives with a royal bearing (not a haughty bearing, mind you) and there is a humble yet regal sense about her. She carries herself as if she is in fact the Bride of Christ.
Leslie is a very private girl. She is not one to naturally stand up on stage and she doesn’t prefer the limelight. However, because she cherishes her Lord above all things, she has allowed Him to nudge her out into the open and to open her mouth and to speak boldly the difficult truths of His Kingdom. She has audacity and tenacity in spades.
My girl has been attacked from every corner for what she has stood for and for the femininity that she demonstrates. And yet, with great calm and grace, she just continues forward unabated, undeterred. She is a marvel of marvels – demonstrating the meekness of a lamb and yet the grit and ferocity of a lioness. She is kind of an Audrey Hepburn, Amy Carmichael mix. She has a poise, decorum, and stylish grace, but she isn’t motivated by externals. Rather, she is fired by the wind of God upon her soul and carried forth with Gospel thunder.
The places that Leslie shines the brightest, in my opinion, are in the arenas of life where no one ever sees – her intimate relationships with me, her children, and her precious Lord.
Need more be said about how she has loved me and how she has made me the man that I am. Her desire in my life is to make me a Job-chapter-29-man, to plead in prayer for the very real life formation of this and to do whatever practically she can to see that my voice is established at the gate. I am ever humbled by her tireless dedication and her astounding love.
Watching Leslie with her kiddos is like taking a peek inside the throne room of grace. Our kids will be world-changers because they have a mother that is hourly wrestling in prayer for every little detail of their lives and is pouring out her very best energies to see them thrive in an understanding of truth and righteousness. She is so very tender with them, so powerfully a picture of our God.
But what makes Leslie, well, Leslie, is her communion with her King. More than anything she craves her time in prayer, her time in intimate fellowship with her Lord. This is her beauty secret; this is her clandestinely acquired key to unlocking the vast possibilities of heavenly femininity. She sits with her Master, watches with Him in the Garden, and He shares the riches of His Kingdom with her – and she emerges radiant and full of spiritual energy to squeeze all the juice out of life today.
I am not just a blessed man. I am the most blessed of men. And I challenge any and all to attempt to prove me wrong. I am very possibly the happiest man alive.
December 16th is a day to celebrate this great reality in which I live. I am a man who has found a truly virtuous woman. And I am a man emboldened and ennobled to fight an epic battle because of it. There is just something magical about an amazing godly woman that puts fire in a man’s soul, strength in a man’s fist, and a grrrr in a man’s throat.
It may be only one degree outside today, but don’t think the Ludy household will be suffering from cold. We are warmed by the ever-present glow of a world-altering woman of God.
So, what’s the weather report for inside the Ludy homestead today? I’m glad you asked. It’s sixty-nine and sunny, with a high probability of some serious amounts of hugs, kisses, snuggles, and love pinches moving in.
Here’s to the greatest wife in the entire world!
Happy Birthday my Love!

Audacious Faith

Tue, 9 Dec 2008 08:47:09 -0700

The idea of “spiritual audacity” has really been on my mind over the past couple weeks. My latest podcast is entitled “Now that’s audacity!” and here I go again rambling on about it. But, after all, isn’t that what a blog is for - to be able to air my thoughts, even if they are the same thoughts over and over again? :)
First let me define “audacity” for you out of the Official December 2008 Ludy Dictionary:
au⋅dac⋅i⋅ty [ aw-das-i-tee]
Absolute, ridiculous trust that when you step out and do crazy things for the Glory of the Almighty King, God will come through for you. For instance – when you stand up against 9ft tall giants without any armor on your skinny little vulnerable body and you walk out in the field of battle without a sword to fight him with, God helps you make an absolute fool of the growling, mocking man-beast warrior.
I’ve been gaining a measure of audacity lately. Not a lot, just a little. Sort of like a small blob of honey in the middle of my toast. It’s enough to make me realize I need a lot more. And it’s also caused me to do a lot of thinking about why this attribute of the Christian life has gone missing in our modern day.
Audacity is one of the main ingredients in the whole notion of faith. Without it, faith just doesn’t really work – it sort of mopes around like a toothless, declawed lion.
Just do a quick perusal of the Bible and you will see this crazy audacity all over the place. Here’s a quick “top ten” list of some of Leslie’s and my favorite biblical moments of bewildering audacity:
Audacious Moment #10
Caleb, at eighty-five years of age, claiming Hebron, the Mountain of the Giants, as his inheritance in the Land of Promise. Not only did He want it (which is audacious enough), but he personally led the battle formation that climbed the mountain and destroyed the giant-men that lived there.

Audacious Moment #9
Samson picking a fight with a thousand Philistines and using a donkey’s jawbone to destroy every last one of them.

Audacious Moment #8
Joab climbing up the gutter of Jebus ahead of all the troop of David and being the first to jump in amongst a throng of enemy soldiers and strike the mocking Jebusites on the cheek in order to defend the honor of his king.

Audacious Moment #7
Elisha, when told by the mighty Prophet Elijah to ask for anything and it shall be done, Elisha asks for a double portion of the power and anointing of Elijah. I love it!

Audacious Moment #6
David, while still a youngster, running after a lion while it has food in its mouth, grabbing it’s mane, breaking its jaw, and gaining back his lamb.

Audacious Moment #5
Benaiah jumping into a pit with a lion on a snowy day and killing the riled beast.

Audacious Moment #4
David and Abishae sneaking into the camp of Saul at night while he was surrounded by his mightiest warriors and brashly stealing his spear and water cruse. That’s not just audacious, that’s hilarious!

Audacious Moment #3
David going into hand-to-hand combat with Goliath, the greatest warrior of his generation, without armor and without a sword. And he doesn’t enter the fray with a sheepish anxiety, he sprints with ferocity at this man-beast and kills him in a matter of seconds. Most of us I don’t think truly realize how amazing this scene was – it was the epitome of audacity!

Audacious Moment #2
Jesus deliberately choosing to stay away from Bethany until Lazarus had not only died but had been rotting in the tomb for four days. It’s then he shows up and has the guts to say, “Roll away the stone – Lazarus come forth!”

Audacious Moment #1
God, in open mockery of the power of Darkness, sends forth his son into hostile enemy territory as a helpless little Baby. God defeats Sin, Death, and Satan while gagged, bound, stripped naked, and nailed to two pieces of wood. The entirety of the Gospel is the audacity of God to actually die a criminal’s death and openly mock the powers of this world as a helpless little lamb of sacrifice. It’s truly amazing!

It’s sort of hard to only pick ten, because there are so many juicy stories of audacity packed into the pages and stories of Scripture. For instance, I’m not even including Jashobeam fighting off 800 Philistines all by his lonesome; Elijah picking a fight with 450 prophets of Baal on Mt. Carmel; The three mighties breaking through the Philistine Garrison in Bethlehem to get King David a drink of water from the well; King Josiah romping through the land of Israel turning to dust anything and everything that was an abomination to His God; Peter commanding a man who has withered legs to stand up and start walking; or Paul after being smashed to death with stones, rising back to life and heading right back into the city that just stoned him. The stories are simply amazing!

So many of us these days are waltzing through our Christian life without showing even a scrap of these heavenly guts. Because, for many of us, we are afraid that if we step out and really trust our God in a specific fashion, that we will be disappointed, and thusly disillusioned.

However, faith is built through the practice of audacity. David ran after a hungry lion and learned that God backed him up. Then he lunged after a hungry bear. Then, when the Giant stood in the Valley of Elah he was confident and ready to whip out a whole new batch of audacity for the occasion.

Today the church is filled with something Jesus termed “oligopistos,” which translates into our language as “little faith.” In other words, we fret, we tremble, and we are paralyzed to inaction when the enemy boasts. We believe that God is there, we just don’t have any confidence that He is interested in championing our cause in this particular situation.

But God is our champion. And He is waiting for someone in this generation to trust him with a Davidic swagger, an Elijah-esque confidence, and a Paul-like indomitable assurance. Little faith won’t get the job done in the church today. We are in need of the real thing, known as “pistos” – Faith.

If you find yourself trembling today before a boasting Goliath – whether it be lust, fear, anxiety, anger, frustration, despair, suffocating pride, or something else just as vile – just know that our God is in the business of bringing such giants down to the earth with a thud.

We as Christians have been pushed around long enough. It’s high time that we got our swagger back and started acting with a Christ-confident audacity.

I’ve tasted just a little of this heavenly stuff, and let me tell you, it’s good. And, to be honest, it’s also quite fun.

If anyone’s interested, I’ll be in the Valley of Elah today at high noon, with five smooth stones and a sling shot in tow, looking to pick a fight with a giant. Who’s with me?

Oh Christmas Tree

Fri, 5 Dec 2008 12:50:51 -0700

Being married fourteen years (come this next Wednesday), Leslie and I have established certain predictable grooves in our Holiday traditions. Some might call these grooves “ruts,” but I prefer the more positive sounding of the two words.
Hudson, our oldest, is about to turn four. And suddenly Christmas is a very big deal. This boyish enthusiasm of his has exposed one of our fourteen year-old “grooves.”
This is embarrassing to admit, but we have had the same old boring “fake” Christmas tree for fourteen years. Same ornaments. Same blanket wrapped around its base.
If this were a nice Christmas tree then maybe fourteen years of it could be justified, but this is a “$79 special” that, I think we probably picked up on clearance all those years back. Long and short, it’s a dud. We’ve put it up each year, more as a statement of “needing to do something” than as an actual enthusiastic tradition.
Don’t get me wrong, Leslie and I love Christmas. It’s just that we’re not used to spending Christmas at our own house. So, the need to do something grand and beautiful has never been a pressing one. And then add to that the “groove” that we’ve settled into – we just haven’t thought about shaking things up.
Until now.
Christmas 2008 has been our “shake it up, Baby” year. With three kids squawking, squealing, laughing, and playing around the Ludy house, Leslie and I realized that it was high time that we start making our house a little more kid-friendly come Christmas time.
This is what led to the big Christmas tree hunt just last weekend. It was out with the old and in with the freshly cut.
It was about ten degrees outside, but Hudson and Harper ate it all up. Hudson carried the saw and we ventured out into the wilds (it wasn’t actually that wild, but we tried to make it feel as if it were).
It’s kind of hard picking out just the right tree. We were limited to the ones that had a white tag on them. There were trees that were slightly leaning; trees that were a bit bare in key spots; trees that lacked that all-important personality you really need in a freshly cut tree; and then there were trees that were a bit too big for the Ludy living room.
It was about thirty minutes into the hunt that Hudson spotted “the tree.” I’m still not sure what it was about this particular tree that caught his attention, but he really liked it. And, what’s strange is, we all sort of liked it too.
Pops (Leslie’s dad) did the honors and got down on the ground and started sawing. Hudson yelled, “Timber!” real loud, and sure enough the tree went tumbling to the earth.
There are certainly benefits to being married ten years prior to having kids. But there are also some dangers. “Grooves” are one of them. But, thanks be to God for the gift of children, with all their love and passion for the playful things of life - and for their uncanny ability to wrench us out of our boring routines.

The Entrustment Ceremony

Tue, 2 Dec 2008 08:47:30 -0700

Back on Friday night, November 14th, something very special happened. About ten dear friends and family members gathered at our house to commemorate the official “entrustment” of Baby Kip into our parental care.
For those of you a little behind on the whole “Baby Kip” adoption adventure, you can quickly get caught up by perusing the links below:
Great Expectations – Leslie’s October 22nd blog entry
The Next Ludy – my October 22nd blog entry
Baby Update – The chronicle of Baby Kip’s unforgettable arrival
Baby Pics – a little photographic peek into our baby-loving world
Kipling Joel Anthony – the official announcement
When we adopted Harper last July we didn’t go through an “entrustment” process from Harper’s birth parents to us. It was more of a legal relationship with the South Korean government and definitely not the sweet and intimate sort of arrangement that we share with Bex in this adoption.
A few months back, Bex announced to us that she really wanted to have an “entrustment” ceremony a couple weeks after Baby arrived. Leslie and I had never heard of such a thing, but it made perfect sense to us, and we were very excited to do it. It was simply a way of officially commemorating the “handing off” of Baby from Bex to us.
Well, I don’t think any of us realized way back then how truly emotional of a process this would prove to be. Those that joined us on the night of the 14th were the intimate players in this whole adoption drama (at least those who were in town). Everyone had a letter that they had written to Bex or to Baby, or to both. We went around the room and tearfully read our little letters. It was an extraordinary night, marked by the tender graces of our dear King Jesus. And if there was anything tangible that could have been taken from the emotional affair, it was that our precious God loves the process of adoption.
If you would like to view the short little video that we produced for the night of the entrustment ceremony, choose below how you would like to view it:
QuickTime (Highest Quality - but slower upload)
YouTube (Easiest to view - quicker upload)
If you would like to read Leslie’s and my letters that we wrote to Bex and Baby then just click on the letters below that you would like to view:
Leslie’s letter to Baby Kip
Leslie’s letter to Bex
My letter to Baby Kip
My letter to Bex
Hudson’s letter to Baby Kip
Harper’s letter to Baby Kip

Bedlam (pun intended)

Thu, 27 Nov 2008 08:44:47 -0700

The other day it became quite clear that I now officially have three children. All five of us (Hudson, Harper, Kipling, Leslie, and me) were all in our bedroom due to the drama that was swirling about the changing of Baby Kip’s most recent diaper. Kipling was beside himself with frustration. The air was cold and there he lay exposed to the elements while Momma ran into the other room in search of a new outfit to replace the pee-pee saturated one that she had just removed. His cry was heartfelt, deeply pained, and even tinted with aghast, and you would have thought that some serious abuse were taking place in the Ludy bedroom had you not been able to see with your own eyes that the issue was as simple as a delayed diaper change.
I had arrived in the room at ten past the hour in response to the 911 cry from Leslie: “Beef, could you go into our bedroom and monitor the crying cutie pie while I go down to the laundry room and scavenge for a clean outfit?”
This excitement drew in the ever-curious three and one year old, Hudson and Harper Ludy. They just had to find out, and find out quick, what all the fuss was about.
Hudson and Harper crawled up on Momma’s and Daddy’s bed, right near where the screaming pile of shnuggles lie squirming, and began rolling around with glee (they love playing on our bed). Daddy was talking with the crying cutie pie, cracking a few jokes, attempting to change the overall mood – and it wasn’t working.
Momma was taking forever down in the laundry room (this is what Daddy was thinking). Meanwhile, Hudson unwittingly rolls off the bed (which is pretty high off the ground) and goes kerplunk on the edge of baby’s bassinette. Now new and very fresh wails can be heard issuing three feet due east of me, cries of the broken and bruised. The crying cutie pie kept up his long-winded rail, in fact, seemed to increase it in volume (if that were possible) at the onset of this newfound competition from his older brother.
I pick up the bewildered Hudson off the floor (I haven’t seen him fall off a bed since he was one) and begin the soothing process. Meanwhile, five feet due west, Harper goes kerplunk off the southern edge of the bed. By this time, a state of emergency has been declared in the Ludy household. All three kids are screaming simultaneously.
Leslie has been out of the room a grand total of three minutes and the Ludy world has completely fallen to pieces.
There are those moments in life when a perfectly beautiful, ordered, and sane existence can feel quite the opposite.
I’m so thankful to my God for the life He has given me. I honestly wouldn’t trade it for any other life currently alive on planet earth. I’ve got four Aces in my hand, and I’m not folding. But that doesn’t mean that my life is without its drama and its difficulty.
Get this. I love life because of its difficulties not in spite of them. I love the conflict that we have been born into as humans. We are seeking peace, order, stability, happiness, and love, and it would seem that everything in this hostile earthy, carnal world is against us ever finding it. It may sound strange, but I love the tension in that struggle.
If you were to read a novel or watch a movie, you would find that your enjoyment value is often directly tied to how the characters overcome a conflict, a dilemma, or work through a crisis.
Don’t get me wrong, I detest crisis itself. There is nothing about it that attracts me. But I love the adventure of proving victorious in crisis. Every day there is an opportunity laid before us to subside into silence and be defeated by the swirling drama, screams, and bonked heads around us, or of rising up with spiritual audacity and bringing the peace, the order, the stability, the happiness, and the love of heaven to each and every situation life throws our way, and thus feeling the unmatched pleasure of overcoming impossible obstacles and winning in the face of seeming defeat.
Heaven can be had while here on earth. But it has to be wrestled for. It has to be daily grabbed hold of and yanked down to earth.
It currently is Thanksgiving morning 2008, the kids are still in bed, and I’m feeling that enchanted, warmth of God’s blessing in my soul. I feel that in many ways, I have found heaven here on earth.
It’s very possible that I experience more drama (and difficulty) on a daily basis than many of you, but it doesn’t get me down. In fact, the drama and the difficulty in the life of Eric Ludy seems to “get me up” (whatever that means).
The test for us as Christians isn’t if we can be at peace, full of joy, overflowing with thanksgiving, and effervescent with love when life is easy, ordered, prospering, and charmed – but when we are in a dank prison cell, when we are thrown into a concentration camp, and when this entire earthly system rejects and indicts us as the cause of all the problems in society – this is when we must show forth the peace, the joy, the thanksgiving, and the love – and this is when it can truly alter those who witness it.
I am deeply thankful for my wife, and thankful for my three kiddos. And I’m thankful for all the drama that children bring, for it provides wonderful opportunity to practice for those moments in the future when mountains crumble to the sea and when the securities of this world are shaken, in order that we can claim, like the Psalmist, “I will not be moved!”
Here’s to thanksgiving in your personal life of drama, screams and bonked heads!

Daddy's Desk Drawer

Thu, 20 Nov 2008 10:14:58 -0700

Hudson had been begging me for weeks to be able to open Daddy’s secret desk drawer. I’ve built up quite the mystery about this drawer and Hudson’s definitely gotten the itch to find out what is actually inside it.
A month ago Hudson was officially commemorated as a “big boy.” It was a huge deal, and there was a bunch of fan-fare surrounding the occasion. As a “big boy” he has certain privileges that he didn’t as a “little boy”, but he also has greater responsibility (sorry if this is bringing back painful memories of your childhood).
Hudson is still only three (he’ll be four on December 29th), but I decided that the next level of “gentleman” training must commence. And in Daddy’s desk drawer is the secret medals of honor for the many levels of achievement in the “League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.”
Last night, after near four weeks of training, my little boy reached the first of nineteen echelons – that of “The Recruit.” To become a recruit Hudson had to perform with excellence in four defined arenas of life – the bathroom (in consistency, in aim, and in cleanliness), the bedroom (in obedience, in attitude, and in relationship with his beloved binkies), in relation to his little sister (in respect, in sharing, and in gentleness), and in knowledge (he had to pass the difficult “flag” test).
I must admit, the desk drawer mystery proved a wonderful motivator for the little guy. Daily, he would come up to the studio where I work and stare at the drawer in wonder.
“Daddy, I weally, weally want to become a Requoot,” he would say.
So, last night it happened. He passed the “flag test” and the much-anticipated moment finally arrived. We marched up stairs to my studio and we sat down at my desk. Hudson was overcome with excitement.
“Close your eyes,” I requested.
Hudson closed his eyes as I opened the sacred drawer.
“Don’t look,” I said, as I pulled from the drawer his reward.
I had him kneel on the floor with one knee as if I were knighting him. He couldn’t quite figure out how the “kneeling” thing worked, so his position was rather hilarious, but I kept a serious face throughout the ceremony.
On his sweatshirt I clipped an authentic military pin and said, “Hudson Jack Ludy, I hereby declare that, according to the high standards and most lofty expectations of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, that you have rightfully gained the rank of Recruit and will, from here on forward be treated not merely as a “big boy” but as a big boy that is, in fact, a Recruit.”
Hudson basked in the afterglow of this solemn accomplishment the rest of the night. He showed Momma, Harper, and baby Kipling his medal and kept it close to him throughout the evening.
I’m proud of my little recruit. He doesn’t fully comprehend the rigor, the danger, the suffering, and the sacrifice that will be asked of him to continue down this narrow way known as great manhood, and for now, I’m keeping that bit of knowledge hidden in my desk drawer. And even though he hasn’t yet beheaded the Gorgan or slung a smooth stone into the forehead of a Goliath, to me, my little recruit brings a large smile to my face and a warm proud glow to my father’s heart.
The curious contents of Daddy’s desk drawer still remain a secret. And throughout this grand training of my mighty warrior-poet, I hope and pray that this drawer is visited many times and that one day in the future, it will be said of my boy that he is truly an extraordinary gentleman!

Company of Heroes

Thu, 13 Nov 2008 10:05:28 -0700

Writing books can be a hard business at times. There’s a commitment you make to your writing as an author, a givenness to the words written, that can sometimes make it difficult to see those very words edited out or altered during the editorial phase. Sometimes it’s just a great word, that I happen to really love, but the editor thinks its not the right fit. Then other times it’s an entire sentence that I laughed out loud at as I wrote, but the editor found absolutely no humor in at all. The really hard thing, though, is the removal of an entire chapter. In The Bravehearted Gospel I removed upwards of four full chapters from the final manuscript. Ouch! If Leslie and I were to release our books in their “director’s cut” unedited state, I think you all would find it very amusing to see the sorts of things that get the axe.
Well, the pill I’m attempting to swallow now, isn’t the removal of a word, a sentence, or a chapter, but the giving up of an entire book. And it’s probably my personal favorite among all that I have ever written. It’s really not all bad, in fact, I’m actually quite excited about the project that this is all morphing into, but it’s still a hard process to digest.
You see, last fall, immediately following my submission of the manuscript for The Bravehearted Gospel, I began writing yet another book. But this book was different than the rest. It wasn’t a book I was necessarily writing to appease a publisher, but one I was writing for what I would term, “a young Eric Ludy.” It’s the book that I never was given. It’s the book that I have needed most.
I call this book, “Company of Heroes.” It’s a soul-stirrer. In fact, I can’t read it back to myself without raising my fist into the air and breathing through clenched teeth, “For the Kingdom and the King’s Glory – I will stand, I will fight, I will die!”
It’s good stuff. However, I’ve had to go through a death process with this precious book. Don’t worry, the content of the book is not going away, it’s just that the particular way in which I wrote it this past fall is going away. It’s kind of like the beloved Love Bug, Herbie, being sold off for parts. He’s not really dead because his engine is still cranking in another car body. That’s kind of what is happening. The guts of Company of Heroes is finding itself another book body to crank in. And, to be honest, I’m not all that upset over the arrangement. Because this next book is going to be all that Company of Heroes was going to be plus a whole lot more. Right now the working title for this new idea is Wrestling Prayer: the fuel of the Bravehearted faith. And it won’t just be a book by Eric Ludy, it’s going to be an Eric and Leslie presentation (which is very exciting).
There are a few chunks of Company of Heroes that just won’t make the transition. Much to my dismay, my Prologue (written last fall) is probably going to be one of those chunks. So, since this content may never make it into a book, I figured I would share it with you here on my blog. Now, don’t be surprised if you find this content strategically woven into the book Wrestling Prayer, because I still haven’t given up trying to find a spot for it (because I really like it). But, if it ends up going to the editorial chopping block, I can at least find satisfaction that I stuck it in my blog back on November 13th, 2008.
As I mentioned earlier, this book was originally penned for a “young Eric Ludy.” Therefore, it is rich with a definite manly tone and is scripted directly to a young boyish soul. Wrestling Prayer will have a broader, more general Church audience, but like The Bravehearted Gospel it will make sure to keep the manly stuff intact.
Stay tuned, because if there are any other textual casualties along the way, I just might post them here on my blog instead of squirreling them away in my hard drive for time immemorial.
Click here to read the soon-to-be-nixed Prologue to Company of Heroes.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Kipling Joel Anthony

Thu, 6 Nov 2008 16:33:53 -0700

Baby names are critical in the Ludy family. We pray about them for months and absolutely refuse to be pressured by family or friends into just slapping on any old name. To us, a name is a calling, a destiny. And it is something that only God truly knows.

So, we go to God and ask Him to share with us our children’s destiny. He always does.

As many of you may already know, we have ourselves another little boy. And he arrived via adoption. If you need to get caught up on the exciting story then here’s some good reading material:

Great Expectations – Leslie’s October 22nd blog entry
The Next Ludy – my October 22nd blog entry
Baby Update – The chronicle of last week’s unforgettable events
Baby Pics – a little photographic peek into our baby-loving world

It has been a surprisingly emotional journey. Adoption is a serious thing and it affects people in a deep way. Leslie cried all the way home from the hospital. And they were tears of pain, simply because she knew Bex (the birth mother) was letting go of her little precious baby. We were delighted to be bringing a baby home, but our dear friend, Bex, was giving hers up. Adoption is a beautiful joy, but it is also tinged with a profound grief.

It hasn’t been all tears though. In fact we have been laughing a lot through this process. We arrived home on the night of the 4th (election night). I’ll never forget the process of getting this little shnuggle-pie ready for bed that first night at home.

Here’s the quick series of events. Note: if you are not a parent this may not sound very funny – but, trust me, it was.

• We get baby dressed and swaddled up all nice and cozy for the night
• Feed baby
• Uh-oh, it sounds like baby is having a little poopy time
• Unswaddle baby and undress baby
• Oh-no, we don’t have any wipes. Leslie goes on mad search for wipes.
• Eric removes baby’s diaper and lo and behold we were right. There’s a poopy!
• Leslie finally arrives back with wipes
• New diaper is laid under baby’s bottom, but oh-no! Baby has more poopy to contribute
• Poopy goes everywhere – all over new diaper, all over pajamas, and all over swaddle blanket
• Leslie goes on hunt for new diaper, new pajamas, and new swaddle blanket
• Eric waits nervously with naked baby, hoping no more poopy comes out
• Leslie arrives back, but oh-no, the cold air has inspired some serious pee-pee activity
• Baby lacquers everything within two square feet (including his scrunched bewildered face) with warm pee-pee
• Eric wipes up the mess
• Eric re-dresses, reswaddles, and comforts Baby
• Baby decides that there is still one bodily orifice that has not contributed to the pandemonium so he spits up all over new swaddle blanket

Leslie and I love baby drama. It’s hilarious. And, when you aren’t getting sleep at night, it always helps to laugh.

Bringing Baby home on election night seemed purposeful on God’s part. He seemed to be making a point to us about this little life. He’s a life that, just like His Lord, will demonstrate “snatching victory out of the face of seeming defeat.”

We officially named Baby last night.

And, by the title of this blog, you may have already figured it out, but we named him Kipling. Kip for short.

And there are two key Scriptures that enunciate to us the calling on his little life and therefore the significance for his name.

Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.
2nd Kings 6:16

Behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire . . .”
2nd Kings 6:17

The passage in 2nd Kings, mentioned above, is so powerful. Elisha and his servant are surrounded by “a host” of Samarian “horses and chariots.” There seems to be no possible defense, no way out. Defeat is imminent. But Elisha sees something no one else does, he sees a mountain full of heavenly horses and chariots of fire and proclaims to his servant, “Fear not, for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.”

This is the idea behind the name Kipling. It is a deep and profound knowing that God will prove victorious even if everything seen with the eyes, heard with the ears, and understood with every other sense, seemingly contradicts such a notion. Kipling is a name that denotes “utter confidence in God,” “fearlessness,” and “the manly swagger of the Spirit-born.”

It is my prayer that this little boy will have the eyesight of Elisha, the spiritual confidences of Elijah, and the military audacity of David. For, Leslie and I feel strongly that he is called to be light in a dark place, hope in a hopeless occasion, and the one who knows victory is imminent even though defeat seems to have already claimed its prey.

This world is desperate for Kiplings. We are longing for men that truly know their God and walk in such a manner that demonstrates the power and might of the King of all Kings.

We live in a time when the Church of Jesus Christ has lost its swagger, it’s lost its confidence, and its devoid of its Gospel power and punch. But Kipling is a name that heralds a returning confidence, a regained morale to the troops of God, and a reinvigoration of that ancient Lion-like roar of the twice-born of God.

Do I sound like a proud papa? Well, I am. And I love the fact that God takes whatever I consecrate to Him and He makes it a thousand times greater than anything I could have ever dreamed up. That’s just His way. And that will be His way with my new little baby boy.

Babyhood is such a wonderful time. It’s full of laughter, tears, and the enthralling vision of what soon will be. God has commissioned me to not raise my boys to be ordinary and everyday, but to be outrageously different. He’s asked me to build warrior-poets, bravehearted heroes that know the power of their God and demonstrate the epic wonder of our God in the land of the living.

This is a time of great rejoicing in the Ludy house. For, in an amazing way, our eyes have been opened to see the mighty heavenly host and the chariots of blazing fire that surround us. And we are certain that, though the Church seems weak and the moorings of truth have eroded, great victory is just around the bend.

So here’s my rough-hewn birth announcement for the little guy:

Kipling Joel Anthony is born!
Let the earth take note – the infantile form of a great and mighty man is
eating, sleeping, pooping, pee-peeing, and spittin-up in Windsor, Colorado!
Let the demons tremble and let the righteous rejoice!”

PS – Joel is the name that Bex (the birth mother) has always wanted to name her son. She never knew her grandfather, whose name was Joel, but he’s a legendary person in her life and she’s always wished to honor him. Anthony is the name of the birth father. And it is our strong desire that little Kipling Joel Anthony will know his birth father and share in relationship with this man, loving and respecting him always.

Baby Pics

Mon, 3 Nov 2008 12:37:43 -0700

Leslie and I spent the night last night at the hospital. It was a magical night full of little infant cries, tears of sweet pleasure, and lots of smiles. Bex took the first shift with Baby and then we helped with the little pile of shnuggles from 2am on into the morning. He’s a heart melter. Hudson and Harper both were bouncing off the walls with excitement to finally meet this little pile of love. So last night, the opportunity finally arrived. It was so cute watching them all interact! Please visit our photo page to see a few of the shots. In the next few days, Annie will be adding more photos, so please come back for a visit.

Baby update

Thu, 30 Oct 2008 07:33:41 -0600

**NEWS FLASH** 11/1/08 9:25pm Baby Boy Ludy is born! Confetti is flying! {see below}

***Click here to see the Baby Photo Gallery***

Leslie and I are having a baby - and possibly today. But we are not having this baby in the traditional fashion. There is a precious young girl in our church (Bex) that has carried this little chunk of love for the past nine months and, as the amazing story goes, we will be adopting him when he comes into this world. Yippee! If you want more detail on the story, visit Leslie’s blog and read her entry, “Great Expectations” {http://setapartgirl.com/_blog/Set_Apart_Girl_Blog}.

So, if you would like to follow along and get all the latest updates on “New Baby Ludy,” then this is the place. Come back throughout the next couple days and I’ll be adding in all the bits and bobbles of baby’s arrival.

Tuesday, October 28th, around noon
Midwife announces that Bex is ready to go. She’s two centimeters dilated and baby is on his way out. Go Bex!

Wednesday, October 29th, 3:37am
Bex begins having regular contractions. Leslie and I were so excited to have another baby born on the 29th (both Hudson and Harper are 29ers), but even with our best efforts to coerce that little baby out of Bex, Baby was satisfied waiting around at least one more day. We had dinner with Bex last night and she is certainly ready to see little Baby move on out. Hudson asked Leslie on the way over to Mimi’s Cafe last night, and I quote, “Is baby brudder gonna pop out of Bex’s tummy at Mimi’s Cafe?” Well, even though Bex was in full agreement with the notion, there was no “popping out” last night. We’re still waiting. In fact, we had a surprisingly peaceful night’s rest. The phone was right by our bed, but no action last night.

Thursday, October 30th, 7:48am
No Baby update yet this morning. Could today be the day? How do you go about a normal day’s work when something like this is going on? We are so excited to devour this little bundle with kisses and hugs.

Thursday, October 30th, 1:46pm
Bex is a bit bummed - she’s still smiling and very excited, but she’s a little disappointed that Baby is still lingering within her. Her contractions seem to have stopped and now she’s just sort of waiting for the whole drama to start up again. On the plus side, she did get a good nights rest. So, sorry everyone, but there’s still nothing of juicy purport to announce. Meanwhile, Leslie and I decided to make it a family day today. We drove down to Old Town Fort Collins and sort of played. It’s gorgeous outside (73 degrees and sunny). But as long as we have Baby-on-the-brain, we’re fairly useless at getting normal work done. Stay tuned! Great things await!

Thursday, October 30th, 5:47pm
Well, the waiting continues. Les and I have already decided that if Baby chooses to pop out on Halloween that we are going to have to claim that day, from now onward, as a Heavenly holy day and steal it back from the devil. :) The contractions have basically stopped, but peace is encompassing this entire process. Babies are so much fun!

Thursday, October 30th, 8:05pm
We are still doing that proverbial pace outside the delivery room. We had a fun night with the kiddos. Hudson is loving the Time Machine that Daddy built (see my blog, Time Machine), and so we certainly got a lot of use out of it tonight. Before bed tonight we visited Adam (before Eve was made out of his rib) and helped him name all his animals. It was great fun. As a side drama we watched Eve formed out of Adam’s rib - it was quite the scene. I don’t know if Hudson and Harper were more impressed with me attempting to act out Eve or the fact that Eve was fashioned out of a little boney rib. So, long and short, we are finding ways to distract ourselves and loving the entirety of the journey.

Thursday, October 30th, 9:36pm
Put the kiddos down to bed and Leslie and I had a wonderful prayer time for the little snuggle-pie still inside Bex. One thing is for certain - this little child has been blasted with prayer. Thank you all for praying and for the wonderful support.

Friday, October 31st, 7:02am
Slept like a log last night. The only drama last night was in my dreamworld, in which I got upset with the national media and their handling of this election. I was looking all over for a microphone so that I could bark out my opinion but couldn’t seem to find one. If I blogged on my dreams every morning, I could provide a lot of laughs. They are always so whacky and yet somehow, sort of true. :) Well, it’s supposed to be another beautiful day here in Colorado. Maybe this will be the day. Hang in there Bex! We are all cheering you on!

Friday, October 31st, 3:32pm
Who would have guessed that we would still be waiting come Friday afternoon. It’s been a fun past few days of anticipation. Tonight, Bex and gang are coming over for steaks on the barbecue and some serious laughs. Maybe some belly laughter will shoot that little guy right out of there. :)

Friday, October 31st, 10:56pm
It appears that Baby has decided not to make his debut on Halloween. I must admit, I’m a bit relieved. We laughed so hard tonight that our sides ached. It was “share you most embarrassing moment night” at the Ludy house tonight and we howled and howled. Unfortunately, I have way too many stories to share when it comes to that topic. The funniest story was about someone who wasn’t even present at our night of hilarity. My brother Mark’s story about being locked out of the house and having to run down the street in his whitey-tighty underwear sort of stole the show. I’ll try and get an audio recording of him telling the story sometime and get it up online - you all will absolutely love it! :)
So, the latest Baby news - (drum roll please) - we are going to have a November baby! And I think that’s pretty great! The month of November is full of all sorts of fun things - Thanksgiving, Christmas lights, pumpkin pie, Christmas music, big piles of leaves, and now a precious little baby boy!

Saturday, November 1st, 3:35am
Leslie and I are scurrying around with glee trying to get things together. Leslie is headed over to the hospital to be with Bex and I’m going to stay on guard here with the kiddos, until further notice. As the story goes, Bex’s water broke this morning at around 3:35am (It’s 4:12am right now as I write this), and so all is moving forward great guns. The phone rang and I shot up in bed and said, “Where’s the phone?” I stumbled around the room and eventually found the phone (in the pitch black) lying on top of our dresser. I was actually surprised that I pushed the correct button in order to answer it. It was Bex and you could hear the giddiness in her voice. “My water broke!” She pronounced. “You guys are having a baby!” I guess all our belly laughter last night (see last log entry) worked its wonder! :) This sure is exciting! I’ll keep you all posted. And thanks for all the comments below. It’s a blessing to know that you are all standing with us in this.

Saturday, November 1st, 8:24am
Leslie just called from the hospital. Everyone is happy and expectant. Bex is moving along but not very quickly. The contractions still aren’t very intense. Hudson is so excited about his “baby brudder” arriving. I got up super early this morning, so in addition to a good prayer time I got a new discipleship series online, Fortification - volume 2 - and it’s a good one! {view my handiwork here}. It feels a little like Christmas morning in the Ludy house today.

Saturday, November 1st, 1:57pm
I’ve been on kid duty today waiting for word from the hospital. The last word I heard is that Bex is still not progressing very quickly. We are reaching that magic hour when medical personnel begins to get a bit concerned (due to the fact that her water has already broken) and they try to speed things up. Let’s be praying for Baby to get the itch to, as Jesus once said, “Come forth!”
Hudson got his first big boy bike last night. So today, Daddy, Hudson, and Harper took a bike trip to Loodles (my brother’s coffee shop). We had a really fun time. The weather in northern Colorado right now is extraordinary! We ran around and played tag, chatted with some Windsor folk, then got back on our big boy bikes and came on home. The kids just went down for their afternoon nap, so I grabbed a moment to give this update. Have I mentioned that I am super-excited about this little life? :)

Saturday, November 1st, 5:18pm
Well, Bex hasn’t really responded to the labor stimulus. She’s at least not in pain, but talk has already begun to surface about a c-section. Bex is definitely not wanting to go down that road, so let’s keep praying specifically for her labor to progress properly. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the kids and I recorded a little welcome audio for baby brother. I bribed them with lolipops to be on their best behavior. You be the judge of if it worked. :) Oh, and the picture was taken moments after we finished.

Saturday, November 1st, 8:30pm
Bex is absolutely exhausted. She hasn’t eaten anything all day and is super weak. Unfortunately, she is just not progressing and so the issue of a c-section surgical removal is front and center right now. Leslie and I are just aching for our dear friend, Bex. We can’t push for her, we can’t carry her pain and discomfort - but, we can pray. And so to our knees we go, yet again. We will fight to see this through. Go Bex, go! You are a champion for life, Bexie! And you’ve got the Almighty Baby-deliverer in your corner. :) Lord, give our girl wisdom and strength to go the distance and finish strong.

Saturday, November 1st, 8:55pm
Bex is being taken into surgery right now. As much as she didn’t want a c-section, she’s ready for it now. The surgery should last about 35-40 minutes. So, Baby will be here very soon. Thank you all for praying. Now is the time Bex needs strength more than any other time in this process. So let’s pray for this precious girl right now.

Saturday, November 1st, 10:56pm
Well, it’s gloriously official! Baby is born! From what I can piece together the surgery went well. Bex and Baby came through strong and, for the most part, healthy. Baby is having some difficulty breathing due to the cesarian birth, but his lungs seem fine - they are monitoring him in the nursery. The birth was at 9:25pm, and believe it or not, I just heard about it five minutes ago. Leslie’s been in the nursery with the baby and her cell phone is out of battery, thus the late notification. Supposedly, Baby is as cute as can be with big brown eyes and a brownish pile of hair. He weighed in at 7lbs 8oz and stretched out 21 inches. Bex is still recovering from surgery and still, as of yet, hasn’t had a chance to hold the little guy. Leslie claims he’s a true cuddle bug deserving of a good lacquering of Ludy kisses. Currently, I’m arranging to have someone come over to our house and be with our sleeping children so that I can head over to the hospital and see this little miracle child for myself. Oh, what a blessing children are! Thank you all for praying! And, don’t worry, pictures will be forthcoming!

P.S. - for all of you wondering about the name . . . nothing is yet official, so keep guessing! :)

Sunday, November 2nd, 8:29am
I already have my first nickname for the little fella - The Italian Stallion. He’s sort of the baby version of Robert DeNiro meets Sly Stallone. It’s hilarious! He’s so cute. He’s got these huge hands (just like Hudson had) and his arms look like they are ready to “break the jaws of the evil doers and remove the prey from his teeth.” :) (see Job 29:17 if that’s a bit confusing) We have ourselves a mini-warrior here. He had a bit of water in his lungs which was causing the above mentioned “difficulty breathing,” and as of last night around midnight he was cleared as perfectly healthy. Our Christmas card picture is going to be an adorable multi-cultural expression of God’s love - we have the blonde Hudson, the Asian Harper, and the little “Al Pacino” cuddle bug. :) Leslie and I absolutely love this notion of adoption - it’s a reminder of what heaven will look like.
Bex is recovering well. It was a difficult and emotionally trying day yesterday, but even after all was said and done, she was smiling and cracking jokes. Bex, that was hero’s work yesterday - well done!
A new life has begun, my friends, and it’s a life that will certainly change this world for Jesus Christ.

Sunday, November 2nd, 12:51pm
Leslie’s been over at the hospital all morning. Bex is really weak (which is not unusual after abdominal surgery) and Baby is thriving. Hudson is just dying to see the little shnuggle-bug, but it might not be until tonight that he gets his first peek at “baby brudder.” It took us three days to finally officially name Hudson, so we have a reputation for slowness to keep up when it comes to naming boys. :) Right now his hospital papers have him as Joel Anthony, which are two family names from Bex’s side. Joel is her grandfather’s name and Anthony is the birth father’s name. We have discussed with Bex that we really want to integrate Joel Anthony into his name . So there’s at least one puzzle piece for all your curious souls. :)

***Click here to see the Baby Photo Gallery***

The Time Machine

Sun, 26 Oct 2008 19:02:26 -0600

I built a time machine this morning.

I know there are those of you out there that may not believe that time travel is possible, but this morning, I proved all the naysayers wrong.

I cobbled together a rather rickety contraption out of some imaginary scrap metal I had laying around up in my writing studio. The thing is by no means pretty, but it’s scoring big with my kiddos.

Not to make you jealous, but I’d like to brag a bit about this newly constructed apparatus.

My time machine has an imaginary rocket engine (it’s super-duper quad-Hemi powered – whatever that means), a really cool deluxe-hyperspace digital chronometric control panel in the cockpit, and room enough to comfortably sit the equivalent of two adults and three kids. And, believe it or not, I figured out a way to negotiate air-conditioning, a hot chocolate maker (as seen in the movie, The Santa Clause) and a digi-historical GPS navigation system into the mechanism. Can you say, “impressive?”

Hudson and Harper sat wide-eyed on the living room floor as I rolled the make-believe rickety contraption in front of them this morning. I opened up the imaginary door (which already needs a little oil) and we all piled in. After all of us were buckled into our imaginary seat belts, I typed in our very first destination into the control panel.

Destination: The moment of Creation

We definitely didn’t start with a smallish first adventure. We arrived at the very beginning of the six-day creation and were able to all witness it together as a family. It was truly extraordinary. There we were standing in the pitch black surrounded on every side with a vast ocean of darkness when suddenly the voice of God boomed, “Let there be light!” and, to our shock and amazement, there was a mighty explosion of light that shook the universe. My children will always be able to say that they personally witnessed the creation of the sun, moon, and stars.

Hudson and Harper watched wide-eyed as the dry land formed and trees, shrubs, and flowers sprung up from the ground. There was actually a big apple tree that grew right up in front of us bearing basketball-sized apples. Animals appeared out of thin air and began growling, barking, and meowing. Oh, and Hudson may never forget watching Adam come to life – it was quite the drama!

Hudson was so excited this morning with this imaginary contraption and all the possibilities it held. All throughout breakfast he was begging to go on another adventure. So after breakfast, we all got buckled in again, and Daddy typed in a new destination:

Destination: Bethlehem, Israel, oh, approximately 2,000 year ago.

It was amazing. It was a night when real-life angels could be seen in the night skies singing and proclaiming the extraordinary news that God Himself had been born as a baby. And we witnessed it all as a family. We even visited the smelly stable where the little baby Jesus was staying. It did smell really bad in there, but none of us cared in the least, because we were witnessing the very life of God in human skin. I tried to get Hudson to hold the little baby but he was a bit intimidated by the notion. He did give baby Jesus a kiss on the cheek, though, and Harper gave Him a real nice snuggle. And after saying goodbye to Mary and Joseph, we once again took off in our time machine.

Hudson really wanted to go to Brasilia, Brazil. So I typed in our next destination:

Destination: Brasilia, Brazil, one day ago.

Hudson and I (Harper was a little travel weary by this time and Momma was busy in the kitchen) walked the busy streets of Brasilia and met scores of street children. Hudson packed a lot of food for our trip and so we were able to personally deliver a good hot meal to quite a large number of precious orphan kids who have no family and no place to live. In fact, Hudson was so excited about the notion of helping these little children that he asked me to find a lot more street kids for us to help. So, we sort of put on an event. We invited hundreds of thousands of street kids to come join us and get a free meal. Our only problem was we didn’t have near enough food for so many kids. So we prayed over the food we did have and asked God to multiply it. Sure enough, he did just that.

The event in Brazil was a great success. In fact, Hudson was so taken with these kids that we attached a bus and a train to the back of the time machine in order to bring a hundred of them back with us to Windsor, Colorado.

Daddy wasn’t quite sure that his rickety contraption would be able to hold together while carrying so much weight and passing through time at 380 jiggowatts, but somehow we made it back, and in one piece. Boy, am I glad that I put that super-duper quad-Hemi powered rocket engine in it instead of the Toro mower engine that the Home Depot blueprint recommended.

I’ve already taught Hudson how to drive the time machine and he’s visited Brazil about four times today on his own. I’ve told him to make sure he takes good care of this machine, because we have many more exciting adventures just up ahead.

I was thinking maybe we should visit a guy named Noah, pal around with Moses for a day, maybe join David in throwing around some smooth stones in the Valley of Elah, oh, and maybe just attend a crusade hosted by the Apostle Paul.

You should consider building yourself a time machine. It’s a lot of fun.

The Next Ludy

Wed, 22 Oct 2008 18:25:19 -0600

As a father, I have quite a few traditions with my children. For instance, we have “Daddy story time,” in which I tell tall tales of wonder that usually star a gritty little boy named Hudson and a sweet little girl named Harper. We have “Daddy study time,” where we learn odd and interesting things like the coolest flags in the world (my vote is for Nepal). And we have “Daddy night’s outs,” where the three of us (Daddy, Hudson, and Harper) all pile into the car or onto our bikes and go on great and enchanting adventures (like to Sportsman Warehouse to hunt wild-eyed rhinos).

Momma Ludy greatly appreciates all of the above-mentioned traditions, because while Daddy and the kiddos are all occupied, laughing, dreaming, and concocting new adventures, she can grab herself a mug of hot tea, sit down in an overstuffed chair and read a book.

Amidst all the many traditions we have in the Ludy family, there is one that possibly holds more meaning than all the others:

Daddy’s Special Book Projects.

I have committed to write a book for each of my children. Yes, I have wondered as to the sanity of this commitment at various moments throughout the past four years, but overall, I’m very glad that I have pursued it.

I started Hudson’s book when he was a couple days old and it proved to be quite therapeutic for my soul. And already, after only four years of working on Hudson’s literary masterpiece, I’m already cresting 100 pages of gripping, soul-stirring, tender-hearted text.

The goal in these books is to somehow capture, in an artistic, up-close and deeply personal way, the essence of who these little critters are. I follow their life stories, chronicle their key moments, and add a romantic backdrop to the great calling that they have received.

Well, if you haven’t yet heard, Leslie and I are adopting again. In fact, we should be meeting our precious little boy any day now (official due date is October 30th). It’s a domestic adoption and the story is simply beautiful. We have grown to be dear friends with the birth mother, in fact, to the point where she has requested Leslie to join her in the birth room and has asked her to cut the umbilical cord.

And, yes, this means another book for Papa Ludy.

So, ask me how I feel about writing yet another book.

I’m thrilled! In fact, I’ve already put pen to paper and begun the next literary masterpiece. And I have one of those “author hunches” that this life story is going to be a good one.

Now, when I started this blog, I wasn’t planning to do this, but I’m going to let you take a peek inside. It’s going to make this particular blog a bit long, but I’m guessing you will lend me some understanding.

Here’s the book so far:
if

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust your God when all men doubt Him
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master,
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

the poet, Kipling

at the time when kings go forth to battle
2nd Samuel 11:1

October 12, 2008
Precious one,
When your brother, Hudson, was born it seemed the earth shook. It was a grand and epic quaking of the nations with over 240,000 men, women, and children destroyed along Asia’s Pacific Rim. And yet, out of that massive loss of life emerged a new life, a contender’s life – the infantile glimpse of a great and mighty man.
When true men are born into this world, the destroyer yearns to snuff them out long before their lives ever reach that crucial point of maturity, and thusly, cognizance of their impenetrability.
The lives of Moses and Christ brought about such drastic response from the Dark regime that countless little babies were slaughtered in the vain attempt of halting these men from growing up into the mighty deliverers that they were destined to become.
Much like Moses, and much like your great Savior, you will be born into a season of great lostness, great deceit – a time in which even the elect have been swayed to believe doctrines of the dark order. It’s a time of enslavement to the flesh under the banner of “liberty in Christ.” It’s a time when there is a form of godliness but a denial of the true power that is always supposed to attend the godly life.
This is the time when kings go forth to battle, my son. This is the time in history when a standard must be raised, a call must be issued, a gauntlet must drop. And you, dear one, are being constructed after the pattern as shown in the mount. Your DNA is spiked with an unusual spiritual energy and a curious hunger for the substance of the Heavenly Kingdom. And your father is given to the cause of prayer for your formation. I am given to the cause of seeing you built after the blueprint of the mighty and, thusly, inaugurated into the company of heroes.
You have been born for such a time as this.
So shall they fear the name of the LORD from the west, and his glory from the rising of the sun. When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the LORD shall lift up a standard against him.
The miraculous story of your adoption is a testimony in and of itself of the message of your life. It has been a God-scripted story, a story of courage, truth, and glory.
You are not yet born, little one, but already my father’s heart is warmed. Jesus Christ has a claim upon my life, my time, my energies, my resources, my affections, and He has invited me to spend my best on you.
Oh, how you are loved by all those in your life. Your family will be a large one – one built possibly more out of spirit than biology. And just as it was a painful necessity for Moses to enter the basket as a baby and thusly risk a permanent separation from the mother that gave him breath, so you too will enter a basket, an ark of refuge, and be asked to risk the unknown of God’s gracious adoptive plan. For Moses, he not only supernaturally received back the involvement of his mother in his life, but he was positioned through the God-directed events of his life to deliver the nation of Israel from their chains.
What your story will be is still yet to be determined, but I’m certain it will be equally as beautiful.

The Purple Hippo

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 07:52:58 -0600

Hudson, my three year old little boy, spent some precious time with me this past Sunday afternoon. There was no Mommy and no baby sister, it was just Daddy and his little boy. The two of us try and snag a couple times each week to just do father-son stuff. Well, the weather was rather inclement, so we decided to stay indoors and find something to build, something to demolish, or something to imagine. I asked him, “Do you want a story?” He loves Daddy stories, so he quickly agreed. We got comfortable in his room, he plopped on his bed and cozied up with his pillow and blanket and I sat in the rocker nearby. And the story began.
Once upon a time there was a brilliant little boy named Hudson Jack Ludy. And at the age of three he became a world-renowned Hipponarian (Hudson is well-versed in the fact that a Hipponarian is a make-believe doctor who specializes in Hippo health). Well, as the story goes, a precious little baby Hippo named Charlie became sick. He was a decidedly “purple” hippo (Hudson was adamant that we define the color of the hippo). And though he was born in Zambia, he was currently residing in the New York City Zoo and beloved by all that came to visit.
Hipponarians from all over the world came to New York City to see if they might be able to help poor little Charlie. He had a really bad cough, he was turning pink and quickly losing his deep purple color, and his right hoof would shake about uncontrollably. But none of the famous doctors could help. They all stood around and scratched their heads mystified.
One of the zookeepers that had a special fondness for Charlie asked the band of Hipponarians, “Is there anyone else who might be able to help us?”
All of the Hipponarians thought. Then one of them said, “I know this might sound a bit preposterous, but there is a little three year old, Hipponarian, that lives in Windsor, Colorado who just might be able to help Charlie. His name is Hudson Jack Ludy!”
All the Hippo doctors agreed. This just might work. Hudson had a way with Hippos that no one else in the whole world had.
So all the Hipponarians, the zoo keepers, and the television reporters from Fox News, CNN, CBS, NBC, and ABC all piled into trucks and drove from New York City to Windsor, Colorado.
There they all stood out in the hallway, just outside of Hudson’s bedroom, with the singular question on their mind, “Can Doctor Hudson really do it?”
Little Hudson came out into the hall and asked everyone to quiet down.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said, “I would like to do a check-up on Charlie, but I will need my privacy. I am going to close the door to my bedroom (which is well-established amongst all the Ludy family to be Hudson’s doctor’s office) and I will come out with my report in a couple minutes.”
The media waited in the hall with baited breath.
Meanwhile, inside the bedroom, Hudson sat little baby Charlie, the precious purple Hippo down on his bed and said to him, “Well, little guy, would you mind if I asked God to help me here. Because, to be honest, I don’t really know anything about Hippo health, but my great big God sure does.”
Charlie seemed to agree, and so Hudson prayed out loud, “Father, could you show me what is wrong with my friend Charlie? ‘Cuz I’d really like to help fix him!”
Hudson suddenly smiled because he knew God was saying, “Yes!”
Hudson looked down at Charlie and said, “Well, God agreed to help, so you should be feeling better in no time.”
That seemed to cheer Charlie up.
Hudson suddenly had a thought. And he said, “Charlie, would you mind if I examined your right hoof?”
Charlie didn’t mind.
So Little Hudson, the world-renowned Hipponarian, lifted up Charlie’s hoof and looked at it real closely. At first he didn’t see anything, but then suddenly, as if God came down and pointed it out, he saw it. There was a little brown speck in Charlie’s hoof. Hudson immediately grabbed his tweezers and excitedly started digging. Sure enough, he pulled a three-inch long thorn out of Charlie’s hoof.
Charlie started bouncing with excitement. He was healed. His deep purple color immediately started to come back and his little grunt of happiness and health could be heard by all the media personnel out in the hallway.
All the major news outlets carried the story that night. Little Hudson Jack Ludy, the world-famous Hipponarian had somehow done it again.
“Hudson,” Wolf Blitzer asked him during his interview on CNN, “what’s your secret?”
Hudson smiled a wry smile and looked into the camera, “Mr. Blitzer,” he said, “Cynics like you wouldn’t understand. However, if there are any little kids in the audience, I’d like to say to them, that if they ask God to help them, He always does. Mr. Blitzer,” Hudson continued, “I’m not really a Hipponarian, that’s just pretend, I’m just a little boy who believes that my God is as big as He says He is.”
Throughout the tale, Hudson sat intently listening. And at the conclusion of the story, I realized that maybe this narrative was just as much for me as it was for my little boy. Because, as we grow up its easy to become Wolf-Blitzer-like in the way we interact with God, and we can easily lose that little boyish belief that God is humongous and fully able to do exceedingly abundantly beyond all we could ask or think.
Personally, I want to be like little Doctor Hudson the renowned Hipponarian, who, at the age of three can accomplish things that are wholly impossible simply due to his confidence in the faithfulness of His God to answer prayer, to lead, to guide, and direct in every circumstance.
May each of us allow the simple confidences and faith of a child to be awakened once again within our souls. There is a world of purple hippos that are sick and we, the ones that possess the life of Jesus Christ, are the only ones that can truly help.

Robenson

Mon, 6 Oct 2008 05:48:51 -0600

Rarely does the suffering of humanity come knocking on our door here in America. Oh, every so often we touch the tragedy in life, but for the most part, we are insulated . . . and we prefer it that way.

It says of Job in Chapter 29, that “the cause (he) knew not, he sought out.” There are causes all over this world that I “know not,” so I have begun to search them out. In my study, I’ve learned of the suffering in the Sudan, Rwanda, Liberia, Ethiopia, Uganda, East Timor, Burma, Indonesia, North Korea, Brazil, Guatamala, and Nicaragua. I’ve seen pictures, I’ve felt a wave of deep sorrow wash over me, but somehow, I always return to my daily chores seemingly unbothered. I have sought to remove this insensitivity from my soul. I hate it. I want to feel. In fact, I want to feel precisely what God feels for men, women, and children in these destitute and tragic situations.

It has been one of my fervent prayer requests, for two years running, that I would have the privilege to share with Jesus in the watchings and travail of Gethsemane. That He would share His agonies and weeping with me, that I would intimately partake of His compassion.

Recently, God seems to be drawing my attentions to a place a bit more close to home. Only a two hour flight from Miami will land you right smack in the middle of some of the worst human suffering on planet earth.

Haiti.

This little country is right here in our backyard and it boasts one of the highest infant mortality rates in the world – for in Haiti, the average child eats once every three days.

It’s amazing how many connections we have developed with Haiti in the past five months. In particular, Leslie and I have become connected with an orphanage down in Haiti run by three American women. There are 75 orphans in their daily care and they provide an additional 10,000 meals a month to Haitians from their community (danitaschildren.org).

Just last week, I received an email regarding one of their precious little orphan girls, Rose Carline. The email was simply asking Leslie and I to pray. This little orphan girl was dying. The three American women, leading the orphan work were taking turns at the hospital, meanwhile 74 other little children were struggling attempting to understand why Rose Carline was dying. Leslie and I were deeply moved by the email and spent a deal of time praying. However, the next day Rose Carline died of tuberculosis and the little orphanage of 74 remaining children were rocked by the news.

I sat at my computer that morning after reading the brief email and I cried. I felt the deep pain. I actually felt it – I was grieved. I immediately knew God was burdening me, at an even deeper level, with His heart for these precious orphans. I had prayed for two years that I would feel what God feels and suddenly, in the midst of this tragedy, my soul began to feel. God chose little Rose Carline to finally break through the thick wall of numbness within my heart. I ached, and I was so happy to ache. I felt the magnitude of the loss and yet it was so beautiful to feel the preciousness of this little life and to cry alongside my King.

Yesterday morning I felt God asked me to begin to spiritually fight for these 74 little ones in Haiti – to fight for their lives, both physically and spiritually – and to make certain that this sort of tragedy doesn’t strike again.

It was right around 8am yesterday morning that I committed to fervently, and importunately pray for these little ones, to be a spiritual guard for their embattled bodies and souls. At approximately 9am, after concluding a time of prayer with Leslie, I received an email from one of the three American women working at the orphanage.

This is what it said:

Urgent!!  Please pray for our orphaned child, Robenson. He has been stricken with a serious case of malaria and the doctors have told us it is likely fatal.

Robenson is the oldest child at the orphanage (16 years old) and their very first orphan, having been with them for ten years. The magnitude of this crisis, to those little orphan souls, is more than most of us can comprehend. Just last week, Robenson was the one helping the three American women bring comfort to the 73 other orphan children at Rose Carline’s funeral. He is the “man” of the orphanage and now he is fighting for life.

The enemy is attempting to destroy this work in Haiti. And God is asking me and Leslie to stand up and fight. Maybe He’s also asking you.

I realize that there are 143 million orphans out there. And I realize that countless thousands of them right now are dying and in need of our assistance. But the key in God’s Kingdom is to help the ones that God brings to your doorstep. You might not be able to help them all, but you can help the ones He brings to you.

I’m certain God has brought Robenson to my door. Is it possible that God has also brought this precious boy to yours?

I’m praying that this life would be restored for the glory of Jesus Christ to take the Gospel to Haiti. Robenson is a significant life – a life for which we must fight.

Please pray for Robenson.

Politics

Thu, 2 Oct 2008 15:03:40 -0600

I was asked in a radio interview the other day how my new book, The Bravehearted Gospel, intersects politics? I think the question went something like this:

“So, Eric, would you mind if I asked you a prickly question?”

I told the host that I loved prickly questions.

But to be honest, I should have told him that I love “most” prickly questions. For some reason questions on politics are not something I enjoy. And it’s not due to the fact that I don’t know what I believe in that arena. I used to teach Constitutional Law and my mind overflows with opinion on political matters. However, I’ve noticed that a distraction with politics in my personal life has often hindered me in my intimate walk with Jesus Christ. I have found myself putting confidences in an earthly system of men rather than a heavenly system governed by the King of kings.

“Well then, Eric, would you mind sharing with us your views on the political drama unfolding around us here in America?”

It’s quite amazing but often your view on the Gospel and your view on the Word of God often expresses itself in a political party here in America. For instance, the Emergent Church is squarely Democrat blue in their persuasion. In fact, this year the Democratic National convention was opened with a prayer offered by Donald Miller, the author of Blue Like Jazz. The Democratic ticket seems to offer the very same nebulous thinking that all the Emergent Christians so appreciate, and they flock to it like moths to a flame.

However, Christians that still wish to adhere to the fundamentals of Scripture and the integrity of the Gospel message, have a heavy leaning toward the Republican ticket. For instance, Sarah Palin is an evangelical Bible-believing Christian that actually believes the Word of God is, in truth, the words of God.

I think it is interesting to note that the Church in America is divided straight down the middle just like the rest of our nation is over this presidential election. The Emergent Church is dominating in the book stores, the magazine racks, the airwaves, and is certainly the preferred version of the up-and-comers in the Christian faith. And their message, just like Barack Obama’s is “change!”

However, though the Bible-believing conservatives are ebbing low in the polls today, their books are limping across the check-out counters liked drugged turtles, and their churches are struggling to woo the younger set – there is a resurgence starting in the camp. And it is happening at the collegiate level. There is an awakening, a stirring to return to the ancient ways. The Word of God is being rediscovered. And the significance of believing God to be exactly who He says He is as revealed in His perfect and inherent Word is suddenly becoming important again. And here’s what’s funny. The Bible-believing conservatives are now calling for something too – change!

But “change” in the conservative sector is completely different than that of the liberal sector. The Emergent Church wishes to rewrite the entire playbook, redefine the entirety of the Christian life, re-image it to be something different and more palatable to the masses. They want “change” but they want it based on their social sensibilities.

The Bible-believing change-agents, on the other hand, wish for a version of change that actually brings the Church back to its age-old foundations, to the triumphant power of a Holy God in our midst performing great and mighty things. The Bible believers want to see the dry and dusty pattern of head-knowledge religion ousted and the real, authentic, tangible victorious version of Biblically-inspired Christianity emerge. They want “change” but they want it based on the Word of God.

My passion for politics is very small next to my passion for Jesus Christ and true Christianity. However, I can’t help but see the parallels in today’s politics with the reality of what’s happening in today’s Christianity.

Many of the Christian radio hosts that I talk with are very anxious about the notion of Obama being in the White House come this next January. However, I’m far more concerned about Jesus Christ still sitting on the Throne of His Church come election time this year.

There is a great partisan battle being waged right now in America. But I would venture to say most people are focused on the wrong battle. The Word of God is under attack, the ancient moorings of the Christian faith are being undermined before our very eyes, and the person of Jesus Christ and His claims on humanity are being diminished to the everlasting shame of that which is currently parading under the banner of His Church in our modern day. It’s the Emergent Church running against the Bible-defenders.

So, I’m asking all Bible-believing Christians to arise – not to just fight for the political sector of our country, but to defend the spiritual moorings of everything we believe and live for.

“So, Eric,” the radio host questioned, “where do you stand in this upcoming election?”

I vote for the integrity of the Word of God, the right to enjoy His presence, the privilege to proclaim His Name, the defense of the weak and helpless (including the unborn), and for a system of government that allows for the weight of social responsibility to be carried by the individual and the Church and not the government. If you can translate that into how I will cast my ballot in November, then you will have something that very few people have ever been allowed, and that is, a knowledge of Eric Ludy’s private political persuasions.

A very good reason to smile

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 23:14:12 -0600

Mr. Eric Winston Ludy is a very happy guy! It’s a simple fact about me that I almost always have a smile on my face. Yes, there is the rare moment when I’m really perturbed about something taking place in the modern church and my smile is temporarily overshadowed by a grimace. But all in all, my smile rarely leaves my face. I have been given the nickname “Smiley” by more people than I can name (of course, each of them thought it was a very original nickname).

All that said, if you had been observing me over these past few months you would have noticed that my “smiley” smile has grown even larger and more gleeful as of late. “How is that even possible?” some may ask. Well, let me tell you.

{Drum roll please}

Leslie and I are adopting once again. And, to be quite frank, I am overcome with excitement!

We brought Harper Grace into our family last July ’07 (visit http://setapartgirl.com/my-family for more details) and now, just over a year later, it appears that we have another pee-wee addition to the Ludy family on its way. Delivery date is somewhere right around November 1st, and let me tell you, I’m not the only Ludy family member that is hopping with happiness and garnering for themselves the nickname “Smiley.”

Leslie and I love little kiddos and we love the beauty of adoption. It’s an amazing thing when God makes it clear, “I want you to be the father and mother of this child!”

Something happens inside the soul when you adopt. There is a supernatural expansion of the heart by the Spirit of God, enabling the bounds of fatherly and motherly love to extend beyond the typical constraints of mere biology. I have never thought of Harper Grace as anything less than my precious daughter. It doesn’t matter a whit to me that she is adopted – my heart makes absolutely no distinction between Hudson (my natural born son) and Harper (my little Korean cutie-pie) when it comes to fatherly love. It’s amazing and profoundly beautiful.

So that is why I’m so excited for round two. And that is why my smile has grown even larger over these past few months. Leslie and I feel like we are the most privileged couple on planet earth. We have been hand selected by God to train up yet another little life in the fear and the admonition of God. What a spectacular opportunity!
One of these days I’ll write a blog on why I smile all the time. I’ll give you a hint – it has a lot to do with Jesus Christ. But in the meantime, I can tell you – adoption won’t give you a smile that you don’t already currently possess, but it can make one that you already have grow exponentially larger.

PS – for those of you itching for details on the adoption, stay tuned. I’m sure I will figure out all sort of reasons to blog about it as the day approaches.

It’s only the Children who still cry

Mon, 8 Sep 2008 23:10:59 -0600

There is a scene in the classic book, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, that is forever emblazoned on my memory. The scene centers around an African-American man who is being tried in the public courthouse for a violent crime that every sane person knows he didn’t commit. But the small town is so blinded by its prejudice that it is literally driven to convict this man whether it is legally substantiated or not.

Three little curious children, specifically prohibited from coming to the courthouse and witnessing this travesty, sneak into the balcony section in order to take a peek at this courtroom drama that has the whole town abuzz. One of the little boys named Dill begins to weep uncontrollably as he watches this horrifying breach of justice unfold. Pretty soon, his crying begins to create a distraction amongst the crowd, and one of the other two children, Scout, is forced to rush him out of the building before his sobs end up getting all three of them discovered.

Scout sits with Dill in the courtyard outside and attempts to calm him down. But poor little Dill, continues to cry, lamenting how these townspeople could be so cold-hearted as to beat down an innocent man, simply because he is black.

At this moment in the story, the town drunk, who is sitting nearby in the courtyard pipes up and adds his two cents worth into the book, which, by the way, is worth a million dollars to me. The old drunk (who really isn’t a drunk) says, “It’s only the children who still cry.”

It’s only the children who still cry.

That one line has dramatically impacted my life.

It’s only the children who still cry.

There is something inherent in a child that feels the travesty of injustice, the plight of the poor, the loneliness of the orphan, and the absolute ridiculousness of racial prejudice.

But if this precious childlikeness is not cultivated and preserved within our ever-maturing souls, we lose this. And to be quite honest, I lost it, at least most of it, and it slipped away while I was in Christian ministry. I lost my childlike heart for the plight of the least. Doctrinally I still held to the importance of helping them, but my agreement was mental, the whole while my heart had become detached.
Over these past couple years God has done an amazing work of revitalization in my heart. I feel again. I ache again. I’m beginning to find “Dill’s” tears streaming down my face.

Hudson, our little 3 ½ year old boy, heard Leslie and I talking about orphans in Haiti the other day. We were working on a plan to go down there and visit and we were hoping to bring Hudson. So he started asking questions. “What’s an orphan, Mommy? What made them orphans, Daddy? Can we bring them back here and have them live with us?”

I have been deeply moved over these past couple days watching Hudson’s childlike passion unfold for these precious children in Haiti.

He is so startled by the reality that there are children in this world that don’t have a mommy and a daddy. And he desperately wants to share his personal mommy and daddy with these little ones.

Last night he declared, “we need to make room for these orphans, Daddy!” And he set up beds for orphans all throughout our house. Each bed consisted of a blanket, a pillow, and a stuffed animal donated from Hudson’s personal collection.

I walked into my bedroom last night and there on the floor was one of Hudson’s baby blankets, along with a pillow and Hudson’s favorite stuffed animal doggy. He was willing to give up his very best for this little orphan he didn’t yet even know.

As I was putting him to bed last night I observed three different “orphan beds” neatly arranged upon the floor of his room. It was amazing to see the personal sacrifice he is willing to endure to help these orphans. To him, there is simply no question about it – if little orphans need homes – then look no further than our home. If little orphans need a mommy and daddy then why not take the perfectly good mommy and daddy in our home and make them the mommy and daddy to a whole bunch more.

Hudson has challenged me to rethink my approach to this orphan crisis. He is willing to give up everything precious in his life to see these little ones helped. His best stuffed animals are given to the cause, his personal mommy and daddy are thrown in to the kitty, and every extra square-foot within his tiny room is offered up for the sake of the fatherless.

As I tucked him in last night, Hudson said, “Know what Daddy?”

I said, “What shnuggle-bunny?”

His left eyebrow raised as if an amazing idea was finding wings within his mind, and he said, “If we bring these orphans into our family then they won’t be orphans anymore!”

May we all regain the simplicity of a child in order to see what really must be done. For it’s only the children that still cry. They feel the injustice, they know that something is out of whack when a little child is left to fend for themselves.

Hudson is ready to fit three little orphans in his room. How many orphan beds do you have room for?

The Ravenhill Elixer

Fri, 5 Sep 2008 16:33:46 -0600

I had the privilege this morning of having a phone conference with Paul and David Ravenhill – the two living sons of the late great Leonard Ravenhill. I had to pinch myself a couple times as I was talking with them in order to remind myself who it was that was on the other end of the phone line. It was a fabulous time! I could hear the same feverish passion for the glory of Jesus Christ in Paul’s voice. And, it’s uncanny, but when David prays, it’s like an echo of his father. Combine their English accents with their grave seriousness for the Gospel of our King, and I felt like I was transported back in time listening to their papa, the great preacher himself.

When I was twenty-two (I’m thirty-seven now), I told Leslie that there were two men on planet earth that I wanted to meet before they had their home call. One was Richard Wurmbrand (the founder of The Voice of the Martyrs) and the other was Leonard Ravenhill.

One of the great sorrows of my life is that I never had the opportunity to be introduced to either.

A month ago I had the privilege of traveling out to Kentucky and spending four days with David Ravenhill. In fact, we both were lodging at the same house out in the middle of nowhere. I felt like a little boy, standing in front of John Elway, asking him to sign my football. It was a very special time for me personally. David and I would stay up late talking every night about his late father, the modern church, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and the battle that we both find ourselves in today.

David is a very quiet older man, not quite the boisterous preacher that his dad was, however, God didn’t shortchange this man one bit. He is a man of God, a man constructed out of the stuff of champions. And I can honestly say that spending four days with this man in the quiet rolling hills of Kentucky, ranks up there as one of my finest spiritual memories to date.

As the three of us talked this morning (Paul, David, and I) on the phone, I felt that familiar spiritual zeal churning within my soul. So often Leslie and I have felt all alone in our fiery consternation over the state of our modern church. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve had the thought, “Maybe the church is fine and something is wrong with US?”

Well, let me tell you - there’s nothing like a phone conversation with Paul and David Ravenhill to warm the soul of a budding prophet. To hear these men talk about their Dad, to hear the dismay they both feel over the state of the modern church, and to hear them ask, “Where are the men who are readied by the Spirit of God to speak like Jeremiah and die like Jesus?!” – this was thunder within my soul. And as they spoke, there was a shout within me that said, “Lord, may I be such a man! Pick me, dear Father, to be an Ezekiel, a Jeremiah, a John the Baptist, a Leonard Ravenhill in my generation!”

We all need the Ravenhill elixer, don’t we?

Very soon we will have loads of Leonard Ravenhill stuff online at www.braveheartedgospel.com, but until that time arrives I’ll at least throw you a bone and give you one of my favorite Ravenhill classics. Click on the link below and you will be able to hear the famous message entitled, “The Judgment Seat of Christ.” If you are not moved by this great man’s words, then you should check and make sure you have a pulse!

http://www.sermonindex.net/modules/mydownloads/singlefile.php?lid=235