Soon Christmas will be here.
I spent the day sleeping in & wrapping gifts. I specifically picked each gift in advance as well as the paper to cover it & the label to place on top. Each person can imagine what lies within & that it is for them but what is inside they don't quite know. Not until they open it.
Soon, in another day, will be Christmas. We will wake to find presents under a tree & hold them in anticipation. We will wonder for a moment what may be inside but just for a moment.
How do we see each breath we take? Each morning we wake? Even Christmas morning? Every night we lay down to sleep?
God wraps up each day for us & every moment yet to take place. He prepares each breath in advance. He wraps them up for us to discover. We don't know what each breath will hold nor the one to follow. We don't know any pains or joy that the day will hold when we first blink in the morning light.
What we do know is that He works for the good of those who love Him. So no matter what we may find beneath the wrapping, God is working for us. He is on our side. He loves us.
Monday, December 23, 2013
Monday, November 18, 2013
Seeing God
King Solomon writes,
“There are those who curse their fathers & do not bless their mothers;
those who are pure in their own eyes & yet are not cleansed of their filth;
those whose eyes are ever so haughty, whose glances are disdainful;
those whose teeth are swords & whose jaws are set with knives to devour the poor from the earth, & the needy from among mankind.”
Solomon is said to be the wisest man to ever be born of this world. In his reign as King of Jerusalem, as a Son of David, he acquired more wealth, knowledge & insights than any man before or after. With his esteem & irrefutably wise proverbial additions to the written Word of God he has grounds to be a teacher that can instruct, guide & warn. Here, he warns. He warns us to watch for the danger in others that see them selves as pure by their own standards. He also speaks directly to the reader, to us as individuals, as we may ignorantly see our selves as pure yet are covered by a veil of filth.
How is it that we cannot see our own filth? Our own sin? Or the wayward lives we often lead? Why is purity even important in the first place?
-
I grew up just outside of a small town in Colorado. This was the sort of town where there is not much to do in the summers between graduating classes in the public school system. Small towns leave fewer boundaries for adventures I feel, & being that I lived outside city limits, my home was a refuge of adventure & relaxation. Whether on my own or with my friends, time was often spent devising ways to fill this void with the best experiences we could envision through our narrowed scope. We would have days spent on the jetski pulling each other around on my uncle’s old 1970‘s surfboard or nights where bonfires were large enough to make the news if they had taken place in any regular town.
Perhaps the highlight & major attraction of my home in the country was the small lake that bordered my family’s property. This lake was cause for many sunburns, surfboard & ski endeavors. The lake was small & the base of it was entirely composed of mud. Years before my family had ever owned property here the murky, muddy waters were named appropriately as, Old Stink-Hole Lake as the water also had a certain “herbal” odor to compliment it’s murkiness. Only later would name of the lake be reconsidered & be eloquently retitled to Bacon Lake. The name has been unchanged since.
Many of my memories pulled from my youth centered around this lake. I had innumerable birthday parties, boating escapes & camp outs while on Bacon Lake’s shore. To this day I have an incredible fondness of this place because of the joy I experienced there with friends & the countless times I watched the sunset over the water with no one to talk to but God. I can remember nearly every time I stepped foot into the water. Each time I did I watched, like a magician’s act, my feet immediately disappear beneath it’s surface. The water was never clear enough to see an inch below the surface & there was no amount of kicking or thrashing I could do to make it any clearer, so that is what I learned to love.
My experiences in my youth help me better imagine something. The past several week my mind has been brooding over an idea first presented to me by the king of Christian illustrations, C.S. Lewis. He wrote on the concept that God cannot show Himself fully to those whose mind & body are in the wrong conditions.
“Just as sunlight, though it has no favorites, cannot be reflected in a dusty mirror as clearly as in a clean one.” -C.S.L.
God can reveal Himself to us as He choses, of that there is no question. But how can we see him clearly or reflect His love to others as we remain impure & filthy? How can we see Him as our eyes remain murky & clouded?
The solution to filthiness, the way to cleanliness is not something we can undertake on our own. As I could not do any amount of work to kick the murkiness out of the lake so I cannot do any amount of work to conquer my very self. I cannot even understand the vastness & complexity of that old lake before me, let alone the vastness & complexity of me. As I strive to fix myself I metaphorically thrash around in my murkiness unable to see an inch before me or within me. Yet, we must be purified to see God. Just as the lens of a camera must be dusted to take a clear picture of what lies ahead of it.
We could probably envision a piece of machinery that could clean the murky depths of Bacon Lake or consider a cloth to dust the lens of a camera but are we so simple as they? Can we be cleansed by such simple means? I think a complication with this is seeing ourselves as purely physical & neglecting our spiritual selves. The sixth chapter of Ephesians speaks to this matter. The only way to find our selves pure is through Jesus & His work for us. Nothing of our own. This is why God sent His only son, so that we could see the Father again through Jesus’s great sacrifice. Jesus’s greatest act of mercy & love on the cross gave us a way to come home again, as a prodigal son returns to a loving father. He gives us a way to be pure that relies totally on Him since He knows us immeasurably better than we know ourselves.
If we want to see beneath the waters surface the water must be clean. If we want to take a picture in full clarity the lens must be without blemish. If we want to see God, we need Jesus.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”
Matthew 5:8
“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me-put it into practice. And the God of Peace will be with you.”
Phillipians 4:8
“There are those who curse their fathers & do not bless their mothers;
those who are pure in their own eyes & yet are not cleansed of their filth;
those whose eyes are ever so haughty, whose glances are disdainful;
those whose teeth are swords & whose jaws are set with knives to devour the poor from the earth, & the needy from among mankind.”
Solomon is said to be the wisest man to ever be born of this world. In his reign as King of Jerusalem, as a Son of David, he acquired more wealth, knowledge & insights than any man before or after. With his esteem & irrefutably wise proverbial additions to the written Word of God he has grounds to be a teacher that can instruct, guide & warn. Here, he warns. He warns us to watch for the danger in others that see them selves as pure by their own standards. He also speaks directly to the reader, to us as individuals, as we may ignorantly see our selves as pure yet are covered by a veil of filth.
How is it that we cannot see our own filth? Our own sin? Or the wayward lives we often lead? Why is purity even important in the first place?
-
I grew up just outside of a small town in Colorado. This was the sort of town where there is not much to do in the summers between graduating classes in the public school system. Small towns leave fewer boundaries for adventures I feel, & being that I lived outside city limits, my home was a refuge of adventure & relaxation. Whether on my own or with my friends, time was often spent devising ways to fill this void with the best experiences we could envision through our narrowed scope. We would have days spent on the jetski pulling each other around on my uncle’s old 1970‘s surfboard or nights where bonfires were large enough to make the news if they had taken place in any regular town.
Perhaps the highlight & major attraction of my home in the country was the small lake that bordered my family’s property. This lake was cause for many sunburns, surfboard & ski endeavors. The lake was small & the base of it was entirely composed of mud. Years before my family had ever owned property here the murky, muddy waters were named appropriately as, Old Stink-Hole Lake as the water also had a certain “herbal” odor to compliment it’s murkiness. Only later would name of the lake be reconsidered & be eloquently retitled to Bacon Lake. The name has been unchanged since.
Many of my memories pulled from my youth centered around this lake. I had innumerable birthday parties, boating escapes & camp outs while on Bacon Lake’s shore. To this day I have an incredible fondness of this place because of the joy I experienced there with friends & the countless times I watched the sunset over the water with no one to talk to but God. I can remember nearly every time I stepped foot into the water. Each time I did I watched, like a magician’s act, my feet immediately disappear beneath it’s surface. The water was never clear enough to see an inch below the surface & there was no amount of kicking or thrashing I could do to make it any clearer, so that is what I learned to love.
My experiences in my youth help me better imagine something. The past several week my mind has been brooding over an idea first presented to me by the king of Christian illustrations, C.S. Lewis. He wrote on the concept that God cannot show Himself fully to those whose mind & body are in the wrong conditions.
“Just as sunlight, though it has no favorites, cannot be reflected in a dusty mirror as clearly as in a clean one.” -C.S.L.
God can reveal Himself to us as He choses, of that there is no question. But how can we see him clearly or reflect His love to others as we remain impure & filthy? How can we see Him as our eyes remain murky & clouded?
The solution to filthiness, the way to cleanliness is not something we can undertake on our own. As I could not do any amount of work to kick the murkiness out of the lake so I cannot do any amount of work to conquer my very self. I cannot even understand the vastness & complexity of that old lake before me, let alone the vastness & complexity of me. As I strive to fix myself I metaphorically thrash around in my murkiness unable to see an inch before me or within me. Yet, we must be purified to see God. Just as the lens of a camera must be dusted to take a clear picture of what lies ahead of it.
We could probably envision a piece of machinery that could clean the murky depths of Bacon Lake or consider a cloth to dust the lens of a camera but are we so simple as they? Can we be cleansed by such simple means? I think a complication with this is seeing ourselves as purely physical & neglecting our spiritual selves. The sixth chapter of Ephesians speaks to this matter. The only way to find our selves pure is through Jesus & His work for us. Nothing of our own. This is why God sent His only son, so that we could see the Father again through Jesus’s great sacrifice. Jesus’s greatest act of mercy & love on the cross gave us a way to come home again, as a prodigal son returns to a loving father. He gives us a way to be pure that relies totally on Him since He knows us immeasurably better than we know ourselves.
If we want to see beneath the waters surface the water must be clean. If we want to take a picture in full clarity the lens must be without blemish. If we want to see God, we need Jesus.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”
Matthew 5:8
“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me-put it into practice. And the God of Peace will be with you.”
Phillipians 4:8
Monday, October 21, 2013
Imperishable
A familiar morning sun shinning through my westward facing window woke me today & brought with it an unfamiliar question. This questions made it's presence well known as it sang over & over,
"Why do I spend the days of my life desiring things that are perishable; things that rot, burn, decay & turn to dust?"
Our lives are flooded with perishable, fleeting, temporal things. All of which will never satisfy the innermost chambers of our heart. The clothes I wear, the homes I visit, the sun that wakes me in the morning, the moon that bids me goodnight, the feelings I have & even my very own skin will change & eventually perish. It seems so clear that to have faith placed in perishable things is not wise, yet I find I struggle with this with my every breath.
Soon after these thoughts I had a vision of-sorts. I found myself walking up to this open place, it seemed like a market or exchange but it was incredibly still & void of any other people except myself, & God was standing at a booth. I had nothing with me expect for a small wooden basket. In this basket held things that are taken from me with the wind & change as the seasons; clothes, jobs, money, friends, family, my worries & so on. As I approached the booth God asked me if I would part with all of it, one by one. I resisted for a moment, just as I have done before.
As I stepped back from the booth & tightened my grip I gained an understanding that people have been coming to this place for some time now, God's redeeming market place. God had made a place since before time where His beloved children could come hand in their brokenness & He would turn it into glory. They exchanged the perishable for the imperishable. Here God waits to fill His children's hearts with eternal & permanent things.
I could hear men, women, children & the elderly as they exchanged one life for another.They would say:
"God, I give you my feelings."
& He gave them truth.
"God, I give you my money."
& He gave charity & generosity.
"God, I give you my friends & family."
& He gave community & fellowship.
"God, I give you my time"
& He gave them prayer, understanding, wisdom & patience.
"God, I give you my skills & talents."
& He gave them a means of serving others.
"God, I give you my present."
& He gave them a future.
"God, I give you my past."
& He gave them healing.
"God, I give you my despair."
& He gave them hope.
"God, I give you my fear."
& He gave them love.
"God, I give you my entire life."
& He gave them eternal life.
For in this place everything that has not been purchased by God will fade, even our own bodies & minds. It is true that from dust we came & to dust we will return. But here, this very second, our hope may be fully in Jesus who came down into a perishable & broken world in order to redeem it with His imperishable blood. More often than not we need something in our lives redeemed rather than something new & redemption is only attainable in giving ourselves to God the Father through our faith in Christ. When we exchange our blindness for sight we can see that all we have was His to begin with & still is. & God's greatest gift to us was in Christ's blood, giving us an inheritance that can never perish.
The simple & true beauty in this "marketplace" is that He brings it to us in every step & every breath of our life. With every second we have an opportunity to pull out of our basket something to give to God in exchange for something lasting & good. With every second God is ready to take it all for us, to redeem our lives & let us experience a joy we could have never known without Him.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Embers.
I first saw Him when I was just a boy. He was always near me even though I had no name to call Him by. In the garden we would play, at the table we would eat together & joy we would share. Mine was His & His was mine. There was no fear in me because I knew there was no fear in Him.
Soon there came an age when I was convinced of the forbidden fruit. I learned of fear, shame & I left to be on my own. I, myself, became enough to live on. Little by little, my ears grew deaf to His call. My pleasures hardened my heart so much as to think I did not need a friend, & so the darkness dimmed the light within me. He wept in the garden where we once enjoyed one another, for I would not come to be with Him, & I also wept, for I would not let Him be with me.
For years I tried to forget I knew Him. His presence was too pure to exist in the choices I made, so I thought. A weariness & a question overcame me.
"How could such a light still love me?
All too easy I would forget that glowing ember still fighting for breath within me, wholeheartedly yearning to ignite once again. Yet, I kept His light from my path & covered it for no one to see.
Many days swept together & the nights drew on until I opened my eyes to behold a valley of darkness. There was no retreat in this place, no way out, & a beast sat before me with his eyes feasting on my very flesh. The beast was here to take to last of my light, to forever darken the ember that remained in my heart. It was me who would be the victim & he would scream as vanquisher.
"It is a life I want, any life," the beast moaned, "Your life."
A fear grew within me & became a burden too great to bear. I released to my knees in despair & my eyes welled with tears as I knew I was no match for the beast. A distant hope remained & the ember deep within me flickered & I remember, so long ago, when I was with my friend. Like a flood in my mind the memories returned of playing in the fields with Him, learning His name & walking quietly alongside the waters in His company. I knew nothing of this dark valley in the days that I walked with my friend, but I was far from those meadows now as my knees scratched the parched earth & my eyes were shut tightly wishing I could be with Him just one more time.
"Forgive me," graced my lips.
When the light first struck my closed eyes, it felt as though I was being beckoned awake by the sun after a sleeping through the winter. My eyes peeled open to see the beast retreating. Before me, now, was my friend from so long ago, bloodied & bruised. My friend has given His life for me. A life was owed & a life was taken. I could hardly utter a sound as my feet shuffled atop the scorched dirt & gravel to be with Him.
I spoke through my tears, "I wasn't sure you would come, I was so afraid."
My friend smiled & whispered, "I am always with you, to the very end of the age."
Soon there came an age when I was convinced of the forbidden fruit. I learned of fear, shame & I left to be on my own. I, myself, became enough to live on. Little by little, my ears grew deaf to His call. My pleasures hardened my heart so much as to think I did not need a friend, & so the darkness dimmed the light within me. He wept in the garden where we once enjoyed one another, for I would not come to be with Him, & I also wept, for I would not let Him be with me.
For years I tried to forget I knew Him. His presence was too pure to exist in the choices I made, so I thought. A weariness & a question overcame me.
"How could such a light still love me?
All too easy I would forget that glowing ember still fighting for breath within me, wholeheartedly yearning to ignite once again. Yet, I kept His light from my path & covered it for no one to see.
Many days swept together & the nights drew on until I opened my eyes to behold a valley of darkness. There was no retreat in this place, no way out, & a beast sat before me with his eyes feasting on my very flesh. The beast was here to take to last of my light, to forever darken the ember that remained in my heart. It was me who would be the victim & he would scream as vanquisher.
"It is a life I want, any life," the beast moaned, "Your life."
A fear grew within me & became a burden too great to bear. I released to my knees in despair & my eyes welled with tears as I knew I was no match for the beast. A distant hope remained & the ember deep within me flickered & I remember, so long ago, when I was with my friend. Like a flood in my mind the memories returned of playing in the fields with Him, learning His name & walking quietly alongside the waters in His company. I knew nothing of this dark valley in the days that I walked with my friend, but I was far from those meadows now as my knees scratched the parched earth & my eyes were shut tightly wishing I could be with Him just one more time.
"Forgive me," graced my lips.
When the light first struck my closed eyes, it felt as though I was being beckoned awake by the sun after a sleeping through the winter. My eyes peeled open to see the beast retreating. Before me, now, was my friend from so long ago, bloodied & bruised. My friend has given His life for me. A life was owed & a life was taken. I could hardly utter a sound as my feet shuffled atop the scorched dirt & gravel to be with Him.
I spoke through my tears, "I wasn't sure you would come, I was so afraid."
My friend smiled & whispered, "I am always with you, to the very end of the age."
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Away from Fear
An inescapable reality of the world has been weighty on my mind lately, the presence of fear. The topic of fear runs to a depth that I can hardly pretend to understand nor write in intricate detail about. However, it must be made clear that there are different kinds of fear; there is a beautiful, divine kind & a broken, fallen alternative. The greater of the two is a fear when standing in awe & reverence before an eternal & loving Father, one that is the beginnings of wisdom, as King Solomon first told us so many years ago. The world offers us an alternative which, simply stated, is a kind that leaves us crippled & bound as slaves. This past week I spoke with a patient about Jesus & what is meant to fear the Lord. As we spoke, he heard for the first time in his life that Jesus was his friend (John 15), that we were saved even when we were dead within our sin (Ephesians 2) & that there is no fear in love but instead perfect love drives out all fear (1 John 4). We sat & talked for together in great length, & he wept, just as I did when I felt the freedom in Christ that someone cared enough to share with me.
I have realized something over the past few years, that it is not the removal of fear (or evil) surrounding a man that will cure him. Instead, it is the careful but painful excision of fear from within a man that will set him free. This ultimate freedom from fear is only accessible through Jesus, for he is the only one who has overcome & the only one who has bore it all. This fear that started in the Garden is a cancer that embeds in the mind, lingers in the heart, binds our hands &, ultimately, infects our very souls. As we know Christ as our savior & friend, as our identity in Him grows, freedom is a certain fruit awaiting us. No one I have ever known has desired slavery & a life in Christ has left us no option to return to that bondage.
"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, & do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." -Galatians 5:1
Not by our own efforts let us blindly journey to the depths & darkness of ourselves to find freedom but let us go with God. For God is the true light that gives light every man. When we journey into freedom with Him we have a light that will expose any darkness & in Him we have the strength to overcome it.
We are free in Jesus & there is no room for fear in such a freedom.
I have realized something over the past few years, that it is not the removal of fear (or evil) surrounding a man that will cure him. Instead, it is the careful but painful excision of fear from within a man that will set him free. This ultimate freedom from fear is only accessible through Jesus, for he is the only one who has overcome & the only one who has bore it all. This fear that started in the Garden is a cancer that embeds in the mind, lingers in the heart, binds our hands &, ultimately, infects our very souls. As we know Christ as our savior & friend, as our identity in Him grows, freedom is a certain fruit awaiting us. No one I have ever known has desired slavery & a life in Christ has left us no option to return to that bondage.
"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, & do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." -Galatians 5:1
Not by our own efforts let us blindly journey to the depths & darkness of ourselves to find freedom but let us go with God. For God is the true light that gives light every man. When we journey into freedom with Him we have a light that will expose any darkness & in Him we have the strength to overcome it.
We are free in Jesus & there is no room for fear in such a freedom.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Christopher's Wisdom
All I want is to share Christopher's responses to the questions I asked him throughout the day.
Me:What is your favorite thing about today?
Christopher: Today, all of it.
Me: What is your favorite thing about Jesus?
Christopher: When He died on the cross, He gave us the blood we needed to live.
Me: What would you say to someone about Jesus who doesn't know Him?
Christopher: He is good & He can save you.
Me: If I have a crush on a girl, what should I say to her?
Christopher: You are really good at talking to God & you are really beautiful.
Me: What does love look like?
Christopher: If you love something you wanna marry it. If you don't wanna marry it, you just like it. You just wanna be it's friend.
I am indebted to & very thankful for young wisdom today &, needless to say, we went out for ice cream for a second time after this conversation.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
We are better together.
Today I am at home with my head leaning toward my right shoulder as I am placing antibiotic drops into my bacteria ridden left ear. It is funny how a small ear infection can nearly debilitate me, such a minor affliction. Really, the infection is good for me; not as much for my physical self as for my spiritual one. I have sat here with my muffled, old man hearing & have less been distracted by the noise of the day than I have been in awhile. Maybe this is a reason old age will be a blessing, if we hear less of the world we will hear more from our Father. Anyways, in such a moment this morning I felt the pride of my health slip only to be replaced by the comfort & glory of my Father in Heaven.
In a sermon I just finished watching I was reminded of an adventure told in the Book of Acts of Paul & Silas. Here the Apostle Paul, in the name of Jesus, calls a demon out of a young women & is punished because of it. The Jews made a united attack on Paul as the slave girl who was healed had proved very profitable for her owners since through the evil spirit inside her she had predicted future. As for Paul & Silas, for many days she shouted at them as servants of the Most High. Paul became increasingly troubled by her shouting & freed her from this demon. As his worldly reward, he & Silas were sent to prison. Even more, before they were sent to prison they were stripped off all their clothes, beaten, flogged & then closely guarded in their cell. Today, I have an ear infection. The comparison between my current affliction & that of Paul & Silas's doesn't hold much ground. Actually, I was captivated & inspired by the enormity of faith these two men carried with them while being punished so severely for sharing the love of Christ.
Perhaps my favorite part of this story starts in verse 25, immediately following the description of the two men being placed in their cell & their feet fastened to stocks. The verse says,
"About midnight Paul & Silas were praying & singing hymns to God, & the other prisoners were listening to them."
Soon after this Paul, Silas & the remainder of the prisoners were released after an earthquake shook the foundation of the prison & threw open the prison doors. The guard nearly took his own life after thinking all the prisoners had escaped but, as the story goes, would end up asking for & receiving the saving grace of Jesus. This came out of two followers of Jesus being imprisoned & glorifying Him in song & prayer. Many lives were saved & that is beautiful. The beauty of a soul redeemed far outweighs the weight of imprisonment for these men. When I am afflicted do I sing songs of praise or offer prayers of hope? Because people are listening.
I am seeing more trial day to day than I have previously in my life. Drawing nearer to Jesus has opened my eyes to the world that has fallen so far from Him but it is a world that He so dearly loves. The illusion that their is any joy that exists in absence of Him is being swept away by the rushing waters of Jesus's grace. In John 3:16 Jesus shares one of the most recited verses in today's world. The verse starts with, "For God so loved the world..."
God made this world so He would be realized & Jesus is seen in every facet of creation. He loves the world. For my birthday last week my older brother gifted me an anthology of great Christian poetry. I was reading through several poems & fell in love with, I See His Blood upon the Rose, by Joesph Mary Plunkett, an early 19th century author. The poem describes Christ & his undeniable existence in the world. It makes me realize that he really wants to be with me & He gives me every opportunity to praise & recognize Him.
In a sermon I just finished watching I was reminded of an adventure told in the Book of Acts of Paul & Silas. Here the Apostle Paul, in the name of Jesus, calls a demon out of a young women & is punished because of it. The Jews made a united attack on Paul as the slave girl who was healed had proved very profitable for her owners since through the evil spirit inside her she had predicted future. As for Paul & Silas, for many days she shouted at them as servants of the Most High. Paul became increasingly troubled by her shouting & freed her from this demon. As his worldly reward, he & Silas were sent to prison. Even more, before they were sent to prison they were stripped off all their clothes, beaten, flogged & then closely guarded in their cell. Today, I have an ear infection. The comparison between my current affliction & that of Paul & Silas's doesn't hold much ground. Actually, I was captivated & inspired by the enormity of faith these two men carried with them while being punished so severely for sharing the love of Christ.
Perhaps my favorite part of this story starts in verse 25, immediately following the description of the two men being placed in their cell & their feet fastened to stocks. The verse says,
"About midnight Paul & Silas were praying & singing hymns to God, & the other prisoners were listening to them."
Soon after this Paul, Silas & the remainder of the prisoners were released after an earthquake shook the foundation of the prison & threw open the prison doors. The guard nearly took his own life after thinking all the prisoners had escaped but, as the story goes, would end up asking for & receiving the saving grace of Jesus. This came out of two followers of Jesus being imprisoned & glorifying Him in song & prayer. Many lives were saved & that is beautiful. The beauty of a soul redeemed far outweighs the weight of imprisonment for these men. When I am afflicted do I sing songs of praise or offer prayers of hope? Because people are listening.
I am seeing more trial day to day than I have previously in my life. Drawing nearer to Jesus has opened my eyes to the world that has fallen so far from Him but it is a world that He so dearly loves. The illusion that their is any joy that exists in absence of Him is being swept away by the rushing waters of Jesus's grace. In John 3:16 Jesus shares one of the most recited verses in today's world. The verse starts with, "For God so loved the world..."
God made this world so He would be realized & Jesus is seen in every facet of creation. He loves the world. For my birthday last week my older brother gifted me an anthology of great Christian poetry. I was reading through several poems & fell in love with, I See His Blood upon the Rose, by Joesph Mary Plunkett, an early 19th century author. The poem describes Christ & his undeniable existence in the world. It makes me realize that he really wants to be with me & He gives me every opportunity to praise & recognize Him.
"I see His blood upon the rose
And the stars the glory of his eyes,
And the stars the glory of his eyes,
His Body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.
I see His face in every flower;
The thunder & the singing of the birds
Are but His voice-and carven by his power
Rocks are His written words.
All pathways by His feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His Cross is every tree."
The truth is, God sent His one & only son because He wants to be with us. Jesus wants to bring us back into His love & wants his love to reside fully in us. When we are afflicted, be it an ear infection or being naked & imprisoned, He wants us to know He is with us & be so overwhelmed with love we cannot help but sing songs of praise. Jesus & I, we are better together. You & Jesus, you are better together. & because of our Friend & Savior who laid His life down for us, you & I are better together. So, in the face of trial & affliction let us pray & sing songs of praise for others are listening & will share in the grace of Jesus, our Savior, who is here with us in every step & breath from here unto eternity.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Dust & Ink
My bones have been running dry & begging for sustenance, like a barren river bed absorbing a light spring rain that is craving to overflow. These bones weren't the kind of dryness that led me in pursuing distraction as was true in the past, but the kind that slowly dwindled away my creativity & livlihood. I felt like I was standing in the scene of the movie 'Garden State' where the characters are standing in the rain, literally yelling into the giant hole in the earth as their feet resided on the cusp of the abyss. At the same time I could hear the resounding opening canto from Dante-
"In the middle of the journey of our life
I came to my senses in a dark forest,
For I had lost the straight path.
Oh, how hard it is to tell
What a dense, wild & tangled wood this was
The thought of which renews my fear!"
(Inferno, Canto 1, 1-6)
(Inferno, Canto 1, 1-6)
You see, I realized I was standing on the edge of this existential abyss & may have been there for sometime. The proof lies in the journal pages that have held more dust than ink through the past several months, my pulse that was running flat. While I am ever so encouraged by my surrounding community & friendships, my ability to love them is off, or at least it seems so. My 'in-spout' for love has seemed disconnected from it's source. So, with the understanding that my heart was in need of acute repair, I set my sights on a fresh adventure to re-attach myself to the Author of life & love.
Yesterday morning I woke with renewed vigor; the air had a freshness about it & I didn't struggle quite so hard to leave the comforts of my bed. With my mind revolving around the impending trip to my beloved Colorado back country, I scoured some maps & read reports to find which areas had road access as the high country is very much in the midst of winter.
I nearly resorted to opening my Colorado recreation atlas, closing my eyes & parachuting my right index finger down to pick my destination but, alas, that was unnecessary. My eyes caught glimpse of my destination, Guanella Pass. This is an area I have spent a good deal of time in during summer & fall months & felt confident in my ability to handle it if the weather were to become unstable. A modestly packed bag, camera, some highly treasured outdoor gear & my tent were tossed onto the passenger seat of my little truck & I hit the road.
Within an hour I exited I-70 into Georgetown where I connected with Guanella Pass. The drive was incredible as I watched a springtime rain shower slowly exchanged itself for winter snow as the ever ascending, switch-back pass took me to 11,000 feet above sea level. After briefly considering camping in one of the several closed campgrounds at the top of the pass, I found a small trail that led me on a short hike & to a flat landing with good cover & a nearby stream. Like a kid on Christmas morning I opened my tent & immediately began construction. The footprint to my tent covered a shallow bed of snow & within minutes the tent was standing before as gloriously as any of the finest cathedrals my eyes have seen. I crawled inside to precisely lay out my gear to the soft musical patter of snow falling on the rain-fly.
Yesterday morning I woke with renewed vigor; the air had a freshness about it & I didn't struggle quite so hard to leave the comforts of my bed. With my mind revolving around the impending trip to my beloved Colorado back country, I scoured some maps & read reports to find which areas had road access as the high country is very much in the midst of winter.
I nearly resorted to opening my Colorado recreation atlas, closing my eyes & parachuting my right index finger down to pick my destination but, alas, that was unnecessary. My eyes caught glimpse of my destination, Guanella Pass. This is an area I have spent a good deal of time in during summer & fall months & felt confident in my ability to handle it if the weather were to become unstable. A modestly packed bag, camera, some highly treasured outdoor gear & my tent were tossed onto the passenger seat of my little truck & I hit the road.
Within an hour I exited I-70 into Georgetown where I connected with Guanella Pass. The drive was incredible as I watched a springtime rain shower slowly exchanged itself for winter snow as the ever ascending, switch-back pass took me to 11,000 feet above sea level. After briefly considering camping in one of the several closed campgrounds at the top of the pass, I found a small trail that led me on a short hike & to a flat landing with good cover & a nearby stream. Like a kid on Christmas morning I opened my tent & immediately began construction. The footprint to my tent covered a shallow bed of snow & within minutes the tent was standing before as gloriously as any of the finest cathedrals my eyes have seen. I crawled inside to precisely lay out my gear to the soft musical patter of snow falling on the rain-fly.
I assumed the challenge of starting a fire & walked through camp as if I were in a very domesticated Man vs. Wild episode. My viewers would have found this endeavor anticlimactic as it proved difficult to set a tent -side blaze in the current, moist woodland which serves as a sharp contrast to Colorado as a wildfire tinder-box just last year. Soon, I humbly retreated to the warmth of my tent leaving behind me the smouldering remains of pine needles & kindling.
In my tent I slipped on my favorite gloves to return sensation to my fingers & doubled up my wool socks to do the same for my toes. The zipper of my mummy bag was pulled up as high as possible while still allowing my hands to hold a new book within reading distance. I opened the pages of Chasing Francis, gifted to me by a close friend & caught that intoxicating smell of fresh pages & journey yet to happen. I started reading chapter one, & while reading, my mind was filled with hope for a fresh encounter with my Heavenly Father. So I lay the book down to wait, the snow still dancing on the fabric of my small shelter, but nothing came, only silence. I lay there with my eyes fixed to the roof of the tent as if to see it miraculously open with light but the opposite happened, snow slowly consumed my tent leaving it prematurely dark. Before I knew it I had shut my eyes to do one of my very favorite things, sleep.
When I woke again the soft patter of snow had slowed & I found myself quite warm as the several inches of snow had sealed the exposed area between the ground & rain-fly. At the same time the sensation of an overly distended bladder entered my thoughts & I put on my shoes to remedy this.
I stood up in my post nap euphoria in the untrodden powder outside my small tent door & was confronted by a serene, monochrome mountain-scape. Everything I saw was covered in snow, including my tent converted igloo. The scene before me was strikingly similar as when Lucy first steps through the wardrobe into the Narnian winter. I smiled at the thought of seeing Mr. Tumnus walk by.
In my tent I slipped on my favorite gloves to return sensation to my fingers & doubled up my wool socks to do the same for my toes. The zipper of my mummy bag was pulled up as high as possible while still allowing my hands to hold a new book within reading distance. I opened the pages of Chasing Francis, gifted to me by a close friend & caught that intoxicating smell of fresh pages & journey yet to happen. I started reading chapter one, & while reading, my mind was filled with hope for a fresh encounter with my Heavenly Father. So I lay the book down to wait, the snow still dancing on the fabric of my small shelter, but nothing came, only silence. I lay there with my eyes fixed to the roof of the tent as if to see it miraculously open with light but the opposite happened, snow slowly consumed my tent leaving it prematurely dark. Before I knew it I had shut my eyes to do one of my very favorite things, sleep.
When I woke again the soft patter of snow had slowed & I found myself quite warm as the several inches of snow had sealed the exposed area between the ground & rain-fly. At the same time the sensation of an overly distended bladder entered my thoughts & I put on my shoes to remedy this.
I stood up in my post nap euphoria in the untrodden powder outside my small tent door & was confronted by a serene, monochrome mountain-scape. Everything I saw was covered in snow, including my tent converted igloo. The scene before me was strikingly similar as when Lucy first steps through the wardrobe into the Narnian winter. I smiled at the thought of seeing Mr. Tumnus walk by.
After taking pictures & mesmerizing at the the crunch of snow beneath my boot I entered my tent of the last time that evening. My gaze was westward as the sun said good-bye & took it's last breath before dipping behind the shadow cast mountains. I lay back in my mummy bag & my stare returned to the roof. I clicked my headlamp off to on in several cycles being left in total darkness between a cloud-covered night sky & snow enveloped tent. I clicked my headlamp off a last time & the final residual speckles of light faded from my sight.
Repeatedly I waved my hand in front of my face without being able to see it in the slightest. Then, as a surprise to me, I laughed, thankfulness overwhelmed me in this moment, not for the things I could see but for those I could not. This darkness in my small winter home reflected a deeper truth to me.
It was a small encounter with my Father & I felt His embrace in this moment where it was just He & I. Then, with new life in my veins, I did one of my favorite things once again, I fell asleep.
Repeatedly I waved my hand in front of my face without being able to see it in the slightest. Then, as a surprise to me, I laughed, thankfulness overwhelmed me in this moment, not for the things I could see but for those I could not. This darkness in my small winter home reflected a deeper truth to me.
It was a small encounter with my Father & I felt His embrace in this moment where it was just He & I. Then, with new life in my veins, I did one of my favorite things once again, I fell asleep.
Friday, March 29, 2013
A Friend of Mine
The product of randomly interspersed night shifts over the past several weeks has been an inability to sleep like a normal person. This is nothing entirely new. But that is where I sit, right now, not sleeping but with a pen & paper scribbling away in the ladder hours of the night & into the meekness of the morning this Good Friday.
Tonight, I a rummaging around with a question. Almost everything is different in my life as I look in the rear view through the years past; the season, the people, the relationships, the career, but has anything really changed? Sometimes I fear living a life where everything is different but nothing has really changed inside of my heart; a life of running away to new places with new loves but carrying along the same broken ways & the same selfish habits. If something has changed, what is it?
Work has been exceptionally trial-some as of late. Training has begun for the expansion of our medicine unit into a second inpatient tower at he University of Colorado Hospital on the outskirts or Denver. The expansion will provide an additional 276 beds, making UCH one of the biggest hospitals in this region of the country. Such an expansion has called for more employees, more flexibility in schedules, more teaching, more education hours; all of which I am immensely thankful for but increasingly tired because of. Like a flood there have been continued influx of computer training modules, mock codes & dummy resuscitations. Compounding all of this is the fact that lately I have seen more staffing shortages, code blues, strokes & medical emergencies than in all the combined months prior. Without need for further explanation, it is not a stretch to sat the demand from work is high which is often accompanied by increased stress. What I notice out of this is unusual in the world, however. Love is everywhere. I see my co-workers stepping up & laying down their spare minutes to help me, to help others. I see mercy in excess with a patient population that can be difficult to love. I am thankful for my friends at work, they are teaching me elements of sacrifice & discipline I could have never dreamed of. The other day I noticied this plaque at work given to staff by a previous patient, it read:
I saw this verse & then looked around my work place as if for the first time. I have never seen so much mercy, I smiled in this moment.
Early this night I returned home from a fitness ministry run by a few close friends of mine in Downtown Denver. After the work out we we strolled a few city blocks to have a burger, a beer & a few laughs. There is so much thanks to be had in sitting with a group of friends I love & I know love me. We blessed the meal, talked about life, laughed & shared stories about Christ. I see in my friends the greatest love, a willingness to lay down defenses & take up Jesus's cross. They are teaching me what it is to live with a full heart, what it is to be made new.
It is Good Friday, a day that has passed me by for years with no recognition. A day where I tried endlessly to understand why God would send His son to die? & then I thought of all my friends, from today, from the past & what they may be one day. Then I thought of Christ & how all my friends are showing me a reflection of His love.
Jesus tells us, there is no greater love than than one who lays his life down for his friends & then He calls us friends.
His crucifixion on this day 2,000 years ago was the perfect manifestation in all of history of the greatest love ever conceived. He lay His life down, not for one but for all; not for just me but you. He calls us His friends, not servants, & asks us to do the same for one another. His command is simple, that we should love each other as He loved us. Let us not be so distracted by our differences & of the world that we forget to do this, let us be reminded this day & everyday what our Friend did on that cross. Would I see the crucifixion the same if I looked at Jesus as a friend of mine? Jesus, is our friend, He took our place.
So when I ask myself if anything is different, I know it is. My Friend lay His life down so we could be free, greater love has no one than this.
Tonight, I a rummaging around with a question. Almost everything is different in my life as I look in the rear view through the years past; the season, the people, the relationships, the career, but has anything really changed? Sometimes I fear living a life where everything is different but nothing has really changed inside of my heart; a life of running away to new places with new loves but carrying along the same broken ways & the same selfish habits. If something has changed, what is it?
Work has been exceptionally trial-some as of late. Training has begun for the expansion of our medicine unit into a second inpatient tower at he University of Colorado Hospital on the outskirts or Denver. The expansion will provide an additional 276 beds, making UCH one of the biggest hospitals in this region of the country. Such an expansion has called for more employees, more flexibility in schedules, more teaching, more education hours; all of which I am immensely thankful for but increasingly tired because of. Like a flood there have been continued influx of computer training modules, mock codes & dummy resuscitations. Compounding all of this is the fact that lately I have seen more staffing shortages, code blues, strokes & medical emergencies than in all the combined months prior. Without need for further explanation, it is not a stretch to sat the demand from work is high which is often accompanied by increased stress. What I notice out of this is unusual in the world, however. Love is everywhere. I see my co-workers stepping up & laying down their spare minutes to help me, to help others. I see mercy in excess with a patient population that can be difficult to love. I am thankful for my friends at work, they are teaching me elements of sacrifice & discipline I could have never dreamed of. The other day I noticied this plaque at work given to staff by a previous patient, it read:
Nurses are a blessing-
'Blessed are the merciful,
'Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.'
(Matthew 5:7)
(Matthew 5:7)
I saw this verse & then looked around my work place as if for the first time. I have never seen so much mercy, I smiled in this moment.
It is Good Friday, a day that has passed me by for years with no recognition. A day where I tried endlessly to understand why God would send His son to die? & then I thought of all my friends, from today, from the past & what they may be one day. Then I thought of Christ & how all my friends are showing me a reflection of His love.
Jesus tells us, there is no greater love than than one who lays his life down for his friends & then He calls us friends.
"My Command is this: Love eachother as I have loved you.
Greater love has no one than this,
that he lay his life down for his friends."
(John 15:12-13)
His crucifixion on this day 2,000 years ago was the perfect manifestation in all of history of the greatest love ever conceived. He lay His life down, not for one but for all; not for just me but you. He calls us His friends, not servants, & asks us to do the same for one another. His command is simple, that we should love each other as He loved us. Let us not be so distracted by our differences & of the world that we forget to do this, let us be reminded this day & everyday what our Friend did on that cross. Would I see the crucifixion the same if I looked at Jesus as a friend of mine? Jesus, is our friend, He took our place.
So when I ask myself if anything is different, I know it is. My Friend lay His life down so we could be free, greater love has no one than this.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
let freedom reign
We fight for it every second of our lives. The battle rages in our world for release from tyranny & in our hearts from selfishness. For centuries poets have contemplated it's depth & appearance, politicians have argued over it & soldiers have died for it. In every facet of our history there is a tale of liberation or oppression, our lives do the same. Freedom, it is a noble pursuit, for the most part & everyone seems to have a thought or some insight speaking to it, this is mine.
Freedom will never exist, personally or globally, in absence of wisdom & truth. We often do not have truth or wisdom because we do not ask for it & if we do ask for it, we do not believe in it when it is offered to us. We are a wave of the sea, blown & tossed by anyone who shares a truth more comfortable than the man before him. We look for truth from the parched dirt of the earth, our wishful eyes pointed down thinking we will see it grow miraculously. But truth falls from the heavens like rain & without it nothing good would grow. There are imposters selling us truth & they are everywhere, feeding us lies with a rotten heart & a tempting exterior. There are people preaching to & teaching us with eloquent & articulate words that are empty of love, resolve & morals, we are convinced this is wisdom. Do not believe for one second that a lie can offer you ever the slightest hope of freedom. We must be careful what we allow to take root in our minds & we must guard our hearts fiercely, it is where life begins.
While physical freedom in this world is a beautiful thing, one that I am wildly thankful for, it is not the most important freedom we can obtain. We must exchange the fear of losing freedom in this world for a passion for spiritual freedom. Our lives here are nothing but a mist & in a second we will be gone from this place. Yet our fears keeping us from caring for our neighbor, from new adventures, from exploring the human spirit, from love. We use our freedoms as a means of extending our lives, forgetting the reality that we will, in fact, die one day. We lock ourselves in the illusion that our greatest freedom lies is complete independence from everything; no help, no relationship, no support, no love, no God. We find ourselves lonely, dead inside, & we wonder why.
My big brother shared this thought at the end of his thesis, "Even for all the difficulties in a wounded world, man is not without hope, because he is not without means of living the life of God even now." Even if all in the world was taken away, we could still have hope & freedom would still reign.
That is all for now.
Freedom will never exist, personally or globally, in absence of wisdom & truth. We often do not have truth or wisdom because we do not ask for it & if we do ask for it, we do not believe in it when it is offered to us. We are a wave of the sea, blown & tossed by anyone who shares a truth more comfortable than the man before him. We look for truth from the parched dirt of the earth, our wishful eyes pointed down thinking we will see it grow miraculously. But truth falls from the heavens like rain & without it nothing good would grow. There are imposters selling us truth & they are everywhere, feeding us lies with a rotten heart & a tempting exterior. There are people preaching to & teaching us with eloquent & articulate words that are empty of love, resolve & morals, we are convinced this is wisdom. Do not believe for one second that a lie can offer you ever the slightest hope of freedom. We must be careful what we allow to take root in our minds & we must guard our hearts fiercely, it is where life begins.
While physical freedom in this world is a beautiful thing, one that I am wildly thankful for, it is not the most important freedom we can obtain. We must exchange the fear of losing freedom in this world for a passion for spiritual freedom. Our lives here are nothing but a mist & in a second we will be gone from this place. Yet our fears keeping us from caring for our neighbor, from new adventures, from exploring the human spirit, from love. We use our freedoms as a means of extending our lives, forgetting the reality that we will, in fact, die one day. We lock ourselves in the illusion that our greatest freedom lies is complete independence from everything; no help, no relationship, no support, no love, no God. We find ourselves lonely, dead inside, & we wonder why.
My big brother shared this thought at the end of his thesis, "Even for all the difficulties in a wounded world, man is not without hope, because he is not without means of living the life of God even now." Even if all in the world was taken away, we could still have hope & freedom would still reign.
That is all for now.
“The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty -- it is not only a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There's a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God.”-Mother Teresa
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
A day in the park with light
I am having trouble believing it is February with the pseudo-Spring weather today. Here in one of my favorite Denver parks I am sitting & scribbling down my thoughts in my moleskin to the tune of a soft breeze & a warm sun that is leaving my fair skin with a cherry glow & a few new freckles.
There is nothing particularly inspiring about this moment other than what my senses are reminding me. To my right is a playground with a young boy being pushed on a swing by his mother. I hear wood chips lining the floor of the playground scatter each time the mother steps forward to push her son & the dull squeak of the swing that follows. Over my left shoulder I see an old baseball field with long afternoon shadows cast from the mountainous overhead lights. I close my eyes & can smell the dirt of the field, just as it was when my dad was teaching me to throw a baseball the first time in our pasture back home & then on my first tee-ball diamond. My eyes open & head lifts to see, in front of me, the park with its wide spread withered, brown grass that is crunchy beneath my feet as I occasionally walk around talking to passerby friends, to my self & to God. Extending out of the thirsty grass are the barren winter trees with branches outstretched like arms with open hands toward this February sun.
There is light everywhere I look right now & I hear it too; that laughing joy that light carries with it. In the middle of this day, the sun is reaching everything without discrimination. Each metal lamp post I see shines brightly & startles my my darkened eyes. Each of my senses are readjusting; re-familiarizing themselves with the light & sweetness that is hard to come by in some seasons. I say quietly, "Thank you, for all of this."
Now, each of my senses are more acute than just a moment before. I hear past the wood chips & rusty squeak of the swing as the mother pushes her son higher. Her small whispers of love to him float along the light breeze into my ears, as does the boy's laugh as his little arm is outstretched reaching up for the same sun shining on me right now. My eyes close again & I hear the warm wind ease the tired hands of the trees around me with a dance & embrace. An occasional pine tree in the distance shares its refreshing scent with me. Each of my sense are becoming overwhelmed & it is effecting my heart. There is a light here today that no darkness can understand.
All of this subtle beauty & light reminds me of a truth I often forget, that there is a light in me. Just as the sun on this day, I can share a light without discrimination. My light looks like love & it feels like gentleness. I can stand tall always letting it flow from my hands as I work, from my mind as I think, from my tongue as I speak. There is a light within me that cannot be extinguished by even the greatest darkness of this life. This light in me will burn brighter, not for myself, but for you.
There is nothing particularly inspiring about this moment other than what my senses are reminding me. To my right is a playground with a young boy being pushed on a swing by his mother. I hear wood chips lining the floor of the playground scatter each time the mother steps forward to push her son & the dull squeak of the swing that follows. Over my left shoulder I see an old baseball field with long afternoon shadows cast from the mountainous overhead lights. I close my eyes & can smell the dirt of the field, just as it was when my dad was teaching me to throw a baseball the first time in our pasture back home & then on my first tee-ball diamond. My eyes open & head lifts to see, in front of me, the park with its wide spread withered, brown grass that is crunchy beneath my feet as I occasionally walk around talking to passerby friends, to my self & to God. Extending out of the thirsty grass are the barren winter trees with branches outstretched like arms with open hands toward this February sun.
There is light everywhere I look right now & I hear it too; that laughing joy that light carries with it. In the middle of this day, the sun is reaching everything without discrimination. Each metal lamp post I see shines brightly & startles my my darkened eyes. Each of my senses are readjusting; re-familiarizing themselves with the light & sweetness that is hard to come by in some seasons. I say quietly, "Thank you, for all of this."
Now, each of my senses are more acute than just a moment before. I hear past the wood chips & rusty squeak of the swing as the mother pushes her son higher. Her small whispers of love to him float along the light breeze into my ears, as does the boy's laugh as his little arm is outstretched reaching up for the same sun shining on me right now. My eyes close again & I hear the warm wind ease the tired hands of the trees around me with a dance & embrace. An occasional pine tree in the distance shares its refreshing scent with me. Each of my sense are becoming overwhelmed & it is effecting my heart. There is a light here today that no darkness can understand.
All of this subtle beauty & light reminds me of a truth I often forget, that there is a light in me. Just as the sun on this day, I can share a light without discrimination. My light looks like love & it feels like gentleness. I can stand tall always letting it flow from my hands as I work, from my mind as I think, from my tongue as I speak. There is a light within me that cannot be extinguished by even the greatest darkness of this life. This light in me will burn brighter, not for myself, but for you.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Bike Rides, Elementary School & God
Yesterday, I went for a bike ride through my hometown, Berthoud, as my truck was to be briefly out of commission since it needed a bit of work. I knew of a trustworthy mom & pop shop just down the street from the home I grew up in so I packed up a days supply of snacks to head north up I-25 & called the shop on my way. One of the mechanics answered saying he'd do everything he could to get my truck done today because I told him lived in Denver & he is a very kind man. My dad has always talked of the quality & honest work they do as he has taken his truck there for years. After hearing my last name, the mechanic asked how my dad was doing, it is that kind of hometown shop. Just before dropping my truck off I stopped by my mom's house, about a half mile outside of the small town. My bike was stored in the depths of the garage, behind storage boxes & summer lawn chairs with a years worth of deflated tires, dust & cobwebs, all attributable to disuse. Nonetheless, I threw it in the bed of the truck so I could enjoy a day riding around the place I grew up & reflecting in a rare combined January sunshine & warmth while my truck received some TLC.
Five minutes later I handed over the keys to the mechanic & started my little adventure. This meant I had to roll my bike a few blocks to the home of good family friends & use their bike pump because I purchased some crazy awesome bike tubes that most pumps won't fit, which helped me feel like a professional cyclist. My bike seat was placed really high from my previous years of avid use which made me weary at first & it was far more uncomfortable than I remember, I carried on anyways. Within seconds of gripping the worn handlebars, feeling the cool air & the smooth motion of the pedals I was reminded why I love biking as I sped through my flat hometown streets as if I were in second place of the Tour de France with the finish line tape in sight.
For an hour I rode before meeting my dad for lunch at our local burrito joint, Tito's. I started by pedaling around & through every park I had ever played in as a child & here I practiced my low speed wheelies & stunted altitude jumps in the grass to spare some minor skin scrapes when crashing. Then I rode past every place I had worked through my adolescence; the gym where I would run kid's classes over a decade ago, the homes of families I would babysit for & the video store where my friends & I would kick it, eat, laugh, skateboard around, dance & sing to music under all the neon lights illuminating the shelves of new release movies. Next I visited each of the three schools that showed me much patience & grace as I moved through them from year to year. Berthoud High School has held some of the greatest memories & most painful growth in my life, so I hit the brakes on the lawn & looked up the the picture of my high school mascot, the Spartan. Here I met some of my best friends, failed miserably at dating, played some football & began my thoughts of a future & of God. Each day I would go to school & see my brother immortalized on the auditorium wall with his picture hung with his fellow valedictorians. I would show up for Spanish & Trigonometry only to be separated from my friends & rebuked by teachers for being too disruptive in my social endeavors. Then I daydreamed of futures while calculating how little effort I could invest to achieve them. I was lazy in my work & relationships but thankful this day while looking up at the Spartan & higher still, for the love that guided me through.
So I re-saddled & carried on to Turner Middle School, home of the Dragons & of me as a highly awkward developing young man. In one quick lap around the campus I remembered overly intense football practices, the dreaded yearly mile runs, hours of hacky sack playing & all of my favorite teachers that were so kind to me. The more I was riding my bike on this day the clearer my thoughts were becoming & the better my memory served me. So I left Turner quickly since I was eager to reach my elementary school to see what I could recall. Less than a mile down the road I arrived at Berthoud Elementary, one of the two rival elementary schools in town. The kids of Berthoud Elementary were a proud bunch as we would regularly come up with new jokes about the school across town, Ivy Stinkwell (Stockwell) Elementary & they would rebuttal with a Berthoud Smellementary. We all settled our differences later & lines of segregation quickly faded under one roof in middle school.
My pace slowed as I rode around my old elementary school & soon I felt the need to stop, so I did. I was looking at the west side of the school with it's tan bricks & two blue doors so brightly painted with the afternoon sun. I recognized this was the wall I stood against, waiting in a very anxious line of 5 year-olds, before the bell rang on my first day of kindergarten. This was a thought that had not crossed my mind in over twenty years but now it was so clear to me. I remember my favorite clothes I had set out to wear, my meticulously packed back-pack complete with a Kleenex-box & Elmer's glue, wondering if I had what it takes to make friends, thinking how big this school looked to me & being so excited to share this adventure with my dad & mom the very moment I see them next. Having a home & love to return to made such an adventure worth while, as did having loving parents that cared very much about me, my successes & failures. Then the memory faded like a ghost of a thought, like a mist that appears & then vanishes.
In this moment's wake was left an enormous gratitude for God's presence. These schools & this town all seemed so big growing up & now I can travel them & reflect in a matter of minutes on a sunny afternoon. In hindsight, the world feels so small while the future, being unknown, feels so large & sometimes overwhelming. It struck me of how small but beautiful our lives & adventures will be looking back from the lens of heaven & how trust in Him allows us to confidently walk into an unknown future.
Then I remember thinking, on that first day of kindergarten, how excited I was to be there but how excited I was to go home to share the story. This thought is not so different for me today. I think that returning home is something that is written on my heart to do, on all of our hearts, I can see it in every season of my life so far. My adventures away from home have been so great because I knew I get to go back home & share the stories with someone who loves me. The adventures in my life with Jesus have not been in leaving home but in finding my way back home with Him. My best adventures have not been in leaving Jesus, but in returning to Him.
As I picked up my truck, paid my bill & thanked the kind man who fixed my it I began to drive & found myself overwhelmingly thankful. All I could think of is how great it will be to be home with Him & how happy He will be to hear little stories of adventure; how every joy & pain was turned to glory through His love.
Five minutes later I handed over the keys to the mechanic & started my little adventure. This meant I had to roll my bike a few blocks to the home of good family friends & use their bike pump because I purchased some crazy awesome bike tubes that most pumps won't fit, which helped me feel like a professional cyclist. My bike seat was placed really high from my previous years of avid use which made me weary at first & it was far more uncomfortable than I remember, I carried on anyways. Within seconds of gripping the worn handlebars, feeling the cool air & the smooth motion of the pedals I was reminded why I love biking as I sped through my flat hometown streets as if I were in second place of the Tour de France with the finish line tape in sight.
For an hour I rode before meeting my dad for lunch at our local burrito joint, Tito's. I started by pedaling around & through every park I had ever played in as a child & here I practiced my low speed wheelies & stunted altitude jumps in the grass to spare some minor skin scrapes when crashing. Then I rode past every place I had worked through my adolescence; the gym where I would run kid's classes over a decade ago, the homes of families I would babysit for & the video store where my friends & I would kick it, eat, laugh, skateboard around, dance & sing to music under all the neon lights illuminating the shelves of new release movies. Next I visited each of the three schools that showed me much patience & grace as I moved through them from year to year. Berthoud High School has held some of the greatest memories & most painful growth in my life, so I hit the brakes on the lawn & looked up the the picture of my high school mascot, the Spartan. Here I met some of my best friends, failed miserably at dating, played some football & began my thoughts of a future & of God. Each day I would go to school & see my brother immortalized on the auditorium wall with his picture hung with his fellow valedictorians. I would show up for Spanish & Trigonometry only to be separated from my friends & rebuked by teachers for being too disruptive in my social endeavors. Then I daydreamed of futures while calculating how little effort I could invest to achieve them. I was lazy in my work & relationships but thankful this day while looking up at the Spartan & higher still, for the love that guided me through.
So I re-saddled & carried on to Turner Middle School, home of the Dragons & of me as a highly awkward developing young man. In one quick lap around the campus I remembered overly intense football practices, the dreaded yearly mile runs, hours of hacky sack playing & all of my favorite teachers that were so kind to me. The more I was riding my bike on this day the clearer my thoughts were becoming & the better my memory served me. So I left Turner quickly since I was eager to reach my elementary school to see what I could recall. Less than a mile down the road I arrived at Berthoud Elementary, one of the two rival elementary schools in town. The kids of Berthoud Elementary were a proud bunch as we would regularly come up with new jokes about the school across town, Ivy Stinkwell (Stockwell) Elementary & they would rebuttal with a Berthoud Smellementary. We all settled our differences later & lines of segregation quickly faded under one roof in middle school.
My pace slowed as I rode around my old elementary school & soon I felt the need to stop, so I did. I was looking at the west side of the school with it's tan bricks & two blue doors so brightly painted with the afternoon sun. I recognized this was the wall I stood against, waiting in a very anxious line of 5 year-olds, before the bell rang on my first day of kindergarten. This was a thought that had not crossed my mind in over twenty years but now it was so clear to me. I remember my favorite clothes I had set out to wear, my meticulously packed back-pack complete with a Kleenex-box & Elmer's glue, wondering if I had what it takes to make friends, thinking how big this school looked to me & being so excited to share this adventure with my dad & mom the very moment I see them next. Having a home & love to return to made such an adventure worth while, as did having loving parents that cared very much about me, my successes & failures. Then the memory faded like a ghost of a thought, like a mist that appears & then vanishes.
In this moment's wake was left an enormous gratitude for God's presence. These schools & this town all seemed so big growing up & now I can travel them & reflect in a matter of minutes on a sunny afternoon. In hindsight, the world feels so small while the future, being unknown, feels so large & sometimes overwhelming. It struck me of how small but beautiful our lives & adventures will be looking back from the lens of heaven & how trust in Him allows us to confidently walk into an unknown future.
Then I remember thinking, on that first day of kindergarten, how excited I was to be there but how excited I was to go home to share the story. This thought is not so different for me today. I think that returning home is something that is written on my heart to do, on all of our hearts, I can see it in every season of my life so far. My adventures away from home have been so great because I knew I get to go back home & share the stories with someone who loves me. The adventures in my life with Jesus have not been in leaving home but in finding my way back home with Him. My best adventures have not been in leaving Jesus, but in returning to Him.
As I picked up my truck, paid my bill & thanked the kind man who fixed my it I began to drive & found myself overwhelmingly thankful. All I could think of is how great it will be to be home with Him & how happy He will be to hear little stories of adventure; how every joy & pain was turned to glory through His love.
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