Blob-Life

Do you remember doing a science experiment?  I sure do!  Now that our boys are rolling through school I have had the pleasure of watching them wrestle with a topic, creating a hypothesis, and then conducting the experiment.

The problem is that their passions often need adult supervision.  And finances.  Sam wanted to test the miles per gallon of our Jeep with the top on and doors on versus all of those items off.  So that cost a tank of gas and a few hours of time.

Levi has a different passion.  He’s very much into hunting and firearms.  He loves the ballistics and mechanics of guns; in a healthy way!  So with the blessing of his school administrators he set off to study the flight patterns and characteristics of different .22 caliber bullets.

I thought I was supervising but God showed up at the gun range and that’s where this little story came from.

Levi set up his rifle 10 yards from the target.  At first we thought the stars of the show were the different rounds.  We had 5 different bullets with different grain counts and shapes.  These were the things Levi was focused on because, well, they were more interesting!  They were the things that cracked and zipped through the air.  They were the things doing the damage. They were cool!

On the other end of the 10 yards was the target.  It was a big blob.  An intentional blob called “Ballistic Gel”.  It was a 6 inch by 6 inch by 16 inch block and it was going to stop, slow down, and absorb all of the bullets we were about to fire.

We first tried to make the ballistic gel but that didn’t work out so well.  We needed the tried and true thing that was battle tested and true to its intended function!  So we ordered the block and now it sat, down range, and ready to take the heat!

Now I don’t know about you but I know I’d rather be a bullet than a blob.  That’s what I thought at the beginning of the experiment anyways.  And as Levi pumped round after round into the blob he made my case.  Bullets were zinging!  They were on target!  They were changing whatever they came into contact with!  Why wouldn’t you want to be a bullet and adopt the bullet way of life?!

After the smoke cleared we walked towards the block for further inspection.  We could see where each round entered the block of gel.  There were wounds.  We could see the pathway through the gel because the bullets left their mark. 

A few bullets entered the gel but were stopped.  Some changed their path upon hitting the gel.  All changed shaped.  A few made it the whole way through and left exit wounds.  Not one bullet stayed the same upon meeting the gel.  And as far as I know they all eventually stopped and became inactive.  Lifeless.  Expired.

So I’m watching Levi be all science-y and inspecting the bullets and their trajectory and end result.  But I can’t help but see the ballistic gel and how it absorbed the shots.  The bullets were the focal points at first but the gel…the gel!  Its being, it’s story, is something to behold!

The longer we went on checking out the results the more the ballistic gel healed.  The entry points and exit points were less noticeable.  The block still held its shape and was undeterred by 5 rounds of .22 bullets zipping into and through it.  And to this day the ballistic gel is still a block!  It contains the remnants of bullets and some visual evidence but it’s still a big blob…and that’s the real story!

While you and I may rather be the bullets than the blob I have to tell you that after seeing the evidence of bullets and the ballistic gels resistance to them I want to be more like the latter.  My thinking is the reverse of what made sense before the experiment.

This is not a new phenomenon but it’s one that has to be told over and over in order for people to see it.  You see, God was at the gun range with Levi and I.  But His story didn’t involve bullets and ballistic gel but rather nails and flesh.  Nails were supposed to change anything they came into contact with; that’s why people of the day gravitated towards using them to nail Jesus to a cross.  Here in 2024 we may think the “bullet mentality” is where we want to align ourselves but long ago it was the “nail mentality” that was appealing to people.  The needed to hammer those nails to inflict damage, snuff out a revolution, and get rid of a rebel rouser!

But Jesus was the ballistic gel of the day.  He offered no solution that was temporary and a one-time use like a nail or bullet.  He was the stable gel; His body would absorb the hits but remain intact and in shape.  He would show wounds but by Gods grace they were healed. He took the hits and despite everything thinking he was gone forever he came back!  His gift endures forever.  The nails do not.

Levi wrapped up his experiment and has all kinds of data and photos from the day.  But God offered a fresh perspective…it’s ok to be blob like!  Receive that!  What is temporary, or single-use, or even meant to change your life will not destroy you.  Jesus knows that feeling and has the scars on His hands and feet to prove it.  He’s been there.  And don’t be tricked into thinking living like a bullet is the best.  It’s not.  You are more than one shot that will be destroyed after one use.  You are meant to be a blob of gel in Christ!  Let Him heal you and then tell the story to others because there are many, many others that started out as a bullet but feel like they are now the target. 

Bullets and Ballistic Gel.  Nails and our risen Savior.  Both stories started with a hypothesis but ended with a very different story and hero.  And thank God for that!

The Original, Not the Multitool

I could call it the “tool trudge”.  It’s the walk from our house to our detached garage, usually with a handful of tools in my hand.  It’s a walk to return the tools to their place after somehow finding their way into the house for some random projects.  It’s not a far walk but it’s one of those that makes you think twice.  Or maybe I should lobby for a second tool chest in the house! 

I blame multitools for this.  Sometimes it’s my fault that tools from the garage find their way into the house.  Sometimes it’s our son’s fault!  But all of us agree that our frustration with multitools is what drives us to use the real tools that are in the garage.

Inside the house are lots of hobby items and small things that could use work.  Our son Levi got on the multitool kick a few years ago and has a few that he keeps at the ready.  These multitools have a ton of neat features and fold up into a small package.  They proclaim to have 30 or more tools for your enjoyment and work…all you have to do is figure out how to open the contraption up and work it without severing your hand, puncturing your palm, or stabbing some skin.

To make a multitool work they use much smaller versions of the real tools.  Things are shrunk down to fit.  Things are slender, fold up, or call for assorted bits to be used, which means more small parts to keep track of.  But fear not!  There is usually a nice carrying case so you can take it all with you.  To get everything to fit requires adaptations of the original design.

The frustrating part is that none of the tools really work as well as the individual item.  And that’s why we make the tool trudge out to the garage to get the real item.  The multitool is a tool of last resorts.  We typically leave just the pliers or the screwdriver out because it’s the one tool that we can count on to use the most.  And to be honest, I have a hard time figuring out how to fold it up to access another tool.  The other items are just along for the ride!

Out in the garage our tools live in a bigger kingdom.  They have an independent life where they are not pinned together with others but they still live among the other tools.  They have a specific design and purpose.  Screwdrivers drive screws.  Hammers hammer.  Saws cut.  It’s simple and effective and everyone lives under the roof of the mighty kingdom of the tool chest.  The individual design of a tool resides in the company of others that have their own unique purpose.  It’s community without being modified to be fit and pinned together with others.

That’s a lot of tool talk to get to a point of people, what we are tethered to, and who we serve.  It’s been in my heart and mind for years that far too often we are quick to sell out into a multitool lifestyle rather than embrace the freedom of being a tool in God’s tool chest.  

Being in community is important.  I think we all crave that to a point.  But sometimes that longing to be among others comes at the expense of not following through on God’s will for our lives.  As long as we are in the community that’s enough.  We lose our independence of being dependent on God and replace it with a comfort of being accepted and pinned together with others.   

It’s pretty sneaky, this multitool life.  Lines are being drawn and rosters are being made every day.  You can be lumped into others with the same political posture.  Or with others that fight the same cultural battle.  Maybe you put your favorite football team as the most important thing to be tethered to.  It can be a school, a town, or a part of the country that pulls and provides the exclusive community we seek.  It could be a social club or even a certain place of worship.  Even churches can turn into a multitool.  We can give up a lot by settling for the multitool life.  We can lure others into that decision without even realizing it as well. 

It shouldn’t be this way.  The kingdom of God is a big place.  That’s the community.  It’s a level above the flags we wave for our other communities.  Every group, every bunch, every system falls under the big Kingdom.  Our residence is in His big tool chest, among all the other tools!

We are an independent bunch with a mighty purpose and design.  We are fearfully and wonderfully made.  The tool chest is the community, not the scaled-down and neatly packaged.   Some tools need the other tools to show them how important their design and function truly is. 

I’m not a Biblical scholar but I can see how many groups wanted Jesus to serve them and only them.  They wanted Him to jump on the multitool concept so as to give them credibility.  But He didn’t.  He came for all of mankind.  That’s pretty wild!  Some choose to follow and some don’t.  But many wanted Him to commit to their group and leave others behind.  He would be an asset to their multitool if he joined them and a threat when He didn’t.  He was a big tool chest guy, that Jesus!  He knew the kingdom he served and it wasn’t just the communities that were already packged together.

I like the engineering of a multitool.  It’s a modern marvel and a testament to an engineering mind that so many things can be packaged together.  But it’s a complex system and sometimes so frustrating it’s better to take the tool trudge out to the garage kingdom for the specific and reliable tool. 

You are part of the tool chest.  You’ve been invited to take residence there.  It’s a big place.  When you see things from that perspective it changes all of the communities that fall under it.  Our place of purpose is in the hands of the One that made us.  He uses us to change the communities we find ourselves within.  We are in His hands first and foremost.  Everything on earth can change; the politics, the communities, the social groups, the churches, and even our favorite football teams, when we align ourselves with Him first.  The toolbox is not absent of community, it IS the community!

Fish Thieves and the Eagles Tree

I never knew Jan and I would be bird watchers, but we have a few that we especially look for in our travels.

The first one is out of spite.  That might sound odd considering some watch for birds for a hobby and generally like to see birds out in nature.  But we have a special, and expensive, bond with Blue Herons.  Some think they are fascinating, peculiar, and maybe neat.  We think they are mooches and thieves!

When we bought our house we also inherited a small fish pond.  It was a novelty; I never thought I would be a fish pond-er that tended to fish in my precious spare time.  But there I was, trying to keep fish alive and the pond somewhat clean.

We decided that what we really needed was some new fish.  So we bought a neat Koi fish and introduced him to our mountain life and gave him a home.

The problem with our little cabin in the woods was that it was very close to a popular trout-fishing creek and another smaller stream.  And where there are fish there are birds looking for an easy lunch!

One morning I nearly dropped my coffee cup when I saw our new Koi fish hanging out of the mouth of a Blue Heron.   That crook was standing in our fish pond and made quick work of our expensive hobby fish.  The nerve!  He stood there all regal and elegant and swallowed our pet down in one easy motion.  Sigh.  In a battle of man versus nature I was losing to a bird with fragile looking legs and a big beak. 

This guy came back to our fish pond every day for a week, looking for something easy to eat.  Our fish pond was fully stocked and the finding of lunch was far easier than hanging out at the creek all day, looking and waiting for a meal to swim by.  The little pond, the big fish, and the ease of catching the fish made all of the wild leave a wild bird.  Our Blue Heron “buddy” was lured into a life of pursuing the easy rather than living on the wild side.

Eventually our fish pond was empty and the Blue Heron had to resort back to a wild life of hanging out the creek.  We see Blue Herons quite frequently down at the stream and while they appear to be wild I always think back to the Blue Heron Bandit that ate our fish and kept coming back for more.

On the other end of our bird-watching fascination lies the Bald Eagle.   Jan found this guy while walking on a backroad near our house.   He was perched high in a tree, overlooking his kingdom and taking inventory of everything that was going on.  Even at a distance you could sense his strength and power just through his posture and different look.  There was something about his white head and stoic stance in a tree that was fascinating. 

Every walk Jan would come home and tell me of her Eagle sighting and her thought that if she saw the eagle that all was well in the world.  He wasn’t a thief or a free-loader like the Blue Heron!

I started running the same road and hoped to catch a glimpse of the eagle.  He was more rare to find than any other bird.  You would get the sense that He was around but you wouldn’t always see him.  But you just knew that he had his eyes on the territory around us!

We found the eagles nest in the middle of a field.  It would be nearly impossible to walk to this tree, its surrounded by marshy muck and it’s far away from anything that could be a threat or hinderance to an eagle’s survival.  It’s a secret place but the nest is HUGE!  You can tell that its designed for a lot of eagles to be raised, instructed, and nurtured there…but you have to be an eagle and do eagle things.

The blue heron ate our fish 10 yards from our kitchen.  An eagle would prefer to be 10 miles from any human.  We loved seeing the eagle from a distance and have had a few chance encounters with them at a closer distance.  But never for long…they don’t like the spot light and they certainly won’t give you the time to fumble around with your phone to take a picture.  They are wild!

Last week we were driving and one was in the middle of a dive-bomb towards the field to our left.  The speed and size of a bald eagle is amazing!  It was just feet from our windshield and we had an upclose view of the sheer strength and size of this bird.  It’s one thing to see an eagle sitting in a tree with it’s wings tucked and folded, but to be in the presence of one in full flight, in all of its wild-ness with its wings extended is captivating.  You want to be around an eagle.  You want to have eagle-like tendencies as a human! 

My concern is that too often we live like that Blue Heron at our fish pond.  We settle.  We lose our natural ability and desire to do the hard things and the things we were born to do.  We are less wild and more ritualistic.  We trade the spontaneity for the programmed.  It took one day for our Blue Heron friend to ditch the wild life of hunting fish in a wide creek for the ease of catching a family fish in a 10 foot fish pond.  Imagine all of us with weeks, months, and years of settling for a life of ease on our own terms.

The eagle life is something different.  It’s sometimes isolating.  It’s not drawn to crowds.  Even with the tremendous strength an eagle has most have no idea because an eagle doesn’t broadcast its strengths!  An eagle lives in a nest that’s hidden, away from distractions.  It’s a secret place that an eagle goes to grow and be sustained.  A lot happens in that nest but not everyone knows about it.  And when the eagle is out and about it does its thing without fanfare.  But to see an eagle in full flight and with their strengths exposed…wow!  It’s beautiful.  It’s captivating.  It’s wild and wonderful, not programmed and half-hearted.  Only eagles “eagle-ing” can do those things. 

The eagle life and the blue heron.  I love seeing them both in the wild.  One stays wild while the other can easily be swayed to give up its freedom for a perceived easy living! 

Be an eagle, friends!

Words for the Weak

I signed up for a few running and cycling races next summer.  While it’s a bit daunting physically I think I have spent a lot of mental energy wrapping my head around all that I’m asking my body to do.  Here’s the rundown of what I signed up for; they are all part of a series and encompass what’s known as “Leadman” in Leadville, Colorado.

June 28th-  Trail Marathon (run)

July 6th-  50-mile Mountain Bike

August 10th-  100-mile Mountain Bike

August 11th-  10k Run

August 17th-  100-mile Trail Run

So you can see that I have my work cut out for me with miles of running, riding, and endless climbing up and over the Colorado mountains.  It will be a physical test, mega-mental exercise, and a challenge logistically and nutritionally.  I want to finish all of those events and then I want to eat a lot of ice cream.

But as this challenge looms in the distance and I diligently put one foot in front of the other I have a theme that keeps providing insight into my approach.  I hope you will sense the same comfort and even excitement, even if you don’t plan on traversing the Rockies by foot and wheel this summer.

“My grace is sufficient” is the phrase that gently works its way in my approach for these events.  Credit goes to Paul, who wrote these words long ago in 2 Corinthians.  He wrote about a “thorn in his side” that he was desperate to be released from.  It’s unclear what exactly that was but it could have been an illness, a disease, financial burdens, a tough relationship, or maybe he just had a really, really, long hike to another town that he was torn up over.  He wasn’t immune to hardships and just off the top of my head I know he was whipped, beaten, imprisoned, survived a shipwreck, and bitten by a snake.  He had every reason to plead for this life to get better.

But God answered with the first part of an important two part statement; “my grace is sufficient”.  I like that.  It means that I don’t have to conquer the world, my life, or even some silly endurance sport events by my own power. 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few years it’s that we can’t control the outcome.  Sometimes troubles come in bits and pieces and sometimes they come in relentless waves.  We can ask God to remove them and sometimes He does.  And other time we finally come to the end of our rope and we are willingly held by the God that extends His grace. 

When it comes to endurance sports there is a tendency to “own it” and just do more, and more, and more. Test the limits of our endurance and capacity.  We plan and scrutinize and execute.  You may feel that in the business world.  Or as a parent.  Or whatever circumstance you are in.  Grace doesn’t enter the equation because we think it all depends on us.

We become a thorn in our own side.

God told Paul that His grace is sufficient.  It’s an interesting word when I’m running and riding and trying to coax a little more fitness from a 46-year old body.  I don’t have to beat myself up in order to get to where I’m going, because if God is in it He will guide my steps to get there.  I just have to be diligent in looking, following, and putting my feet in that direction.  I’d rather run and ride in worship than see it all as grind-it-out work.

The second part that Paul mentions is how incredibly weak he is.  He doesn’t boast in his own strength; circumstances have long taken that bit of pride away from him.  But God says His power is made perfect in weakness.  Wow.  That’s counter cultural if I’ve ever heard something!  Imagine saying we are weak as a positive.  We spend a lot of time crafting ways to not portray a weakness or planning only the positive!

Abundant grace and acknowledging we are weak are not exactly key resume words or things you would normally broadcast to strangers.  But the more we endure in life the more it makes total sense.  The longer we go the more it provides comfort.  Grace has been given, freely, and we don’t have to struggle in our sin.  We don’t have to own every outcome.  We don’t have to sink in our sorrows and beat ourselves over what we aren’t.  Our weaknesses are there as an invitation to allow God to work in us and for us.  Our perceived strength isn’t enough but as Paul says, when we are weak then we are strong.

I have a lot of questions about these races and how it will go.  I can’t see every step between here and there but I can say that each step to get there is fueled by grace and an acknowledgement that I’m actually pretty weak in my own ability.  That’s probably a good attitude and hope to carry in any situation in life as well. 

Dude, Do You Partake?

We were just two dudes hanging out, checking out the scene, talking about life and sharing some laughs.  I didn’t know this guy until he took notice of my family rolling into the hotel driveway after a day’s travel.  The paddleboards strapped to the roof, the two small boys, and the enormous dog lumbering into a hotel were apparently interesting enough for my new friend to start asking me questions.

It started innocently enough.  He wondered where we were surfing in Connecticut.  I had to explain that were not surfer dudes or surfer dudettes…these were paddle boards that we actually stood on and meandered around calm lakes, not big waves.   And we were only passing through Connecticut; we were on our way home from Maine and needed to stop for the night since we got a late start.

After that initial question about surfing in Connecticut we drifted into talk about his military service, his family in Virginia, and shared some laughs.  Then he asked his second question.

“Well brother, do you…do you partake of the doob?”

It was a good thing I had sunglasses on because my eyes got real big.  In the time between his first question and last we must have had a pretty good time because now he wanted to share a joint with me.  Marijuana.  Wacky tobaccy.  I didn’t see that coming but it made me laugh because I was just a dad trying to navigate his family home from vacation; plus I wouldn’t know how to “partake” anyways!  My friend had me pegged as a cool surfer-dude that would share a cannabis cigarette in a hotel parking lot.  I didn’t know if I should feel flattered or afraid!  To each their own but I wasn’t looking to smoke some marijuana to wrap up the family vacation.

But truth be told the space and conversation between the surfboards and the marijuana was the most meaningful.  That’s where I learned about his military service.  He told me about his injuries and struggles when he retired.  He mentioned being emotionally hurt after serving and being told “it wasn’t worth it”.  He was traveling on the road too but was rolling solo.  When you heard a bit about his story you could see how he might look to something, anything, to lessen the pain.   Take away the pain.  Or simply forget about it for a little bit.  He had been through a lot.

I politely declined my opportunity to partake of the doob but I was glad for the opportunity to make a friend and maybe, just maybe, give him some hope that would last longer than a cigarette. 

As followers of Jesus we are to be in the world but not to be of the world.  It’s good to be on guard with things that aren’t from God when we are set on following Him.   But as my buddy in the hotel parking lot said through his many stories; the world can really beat us up.  It’s hard.  It’s brutal.  None of us can get through unscathed or blemish-free.  It’s easy to look down when we should be looking up.  I have no idea for smoking was to cope or if he just enjoyed it…but he was fine with my decline as well.

This little story of a wounded veteran, a road-weary dad, and some marijuana has very little to do with the marijuana.  That debate will always rage on; should it be legal?  Should it be banned?  Should we have more laws?  Why can’t it be more available?  There will always be those that want more rules and regulations and those that want everything to be permissible.   And to dwell on the issue of marijuana is to miss the point with what God had me doing that day.

Standing there under the porch of a hotel showed me that we can stand firm on our principles but stand in the middle for people.  Standing in this case means that you care enough for them to listen, to talk, and to encourage without dropping the hammer of judgement.  God gets to do that, we are there to point them in His direction so they can take the steps God desires for them.  I politely declined his offer but we still had a good talk and a great handshake.

Standing in the middle might sound a bit mushy or non-committal.  But as I was reminiscing about this story I remembered that Jesus stood in the middle many times.  He hung on the cross and gave two thieves a way forward.  One received while one did not.  It was their choice but his place in the middle gave them the chance to make a decision.

He stood in the gap when humanity needed a way to get beyond our sin.

He stood in the middle between the crippled, the possessed, the weak, the mute, and the dead and their new life on earth. 

We all crave a bit of community.  It’s not good to be alone.  And jumping to a side of an issue, a lifestyle, or a movement is one way to find a community.  But it alienates anyone else that might think differently.  We live in a time where we tend to wave the flags of causes, politics, and even nations before leading with being a son or daughter of God.  It’s good to have values and discernment about God’s will for your life; it’s a blessing to come up alongside someone else in the mushy middle to make a friend and show them God’s love.  Part of surrendering to God is the freedom to be used for others that need a friend in odd places and difficult circumstances.   

You can decline to partake but still be a friend and have influence.  You just have to be in the mushy middle.

Know No-Outlets

We knew exactly where we were going, even with a “no outlet” sign penetrating the dark night with a highly reflective warning.   It was a shortcut.  Sam was my co-pilot and he wasn’t asking any questions as we zipped by the sign, he just sat there and waited to see it all play out because he had been down this road before with his Dad.

Despite the “No Outlet” sign broadcasting the…no outlet path before us, we kept on rolling along.  And we weren’t the only ones!  To my surprise there were 3 cars in front us all barreling towards the outlet that didn’t exist.  I wondered if the others knew the road or just hopped on it because they were desperate to find any way out of town.

All of us were attempting to get out of town quickly.  A small town near us had its annual Halloween parade, where Sam was a participant.  They call it a parade but it’s more like a marathon, a test of endurance for both participant and spectator.  It’s loooooong.  But it’s a parade done well and quite a spectacle with what seems like over half the town in the parade. 

As the parade wound down the streets quickly became jammed with tractors, floats, sports teams, and spectators in vehicles trying to find a way out of town.

After Sam fulfilled his mission we quickly ran across town and jumped in the truck.  It didn’t take long for me to recap the parade route in my mind and compare it to the roads that I needed to be on in order to get home.  There weren’t many options.   Having a horse would have been a pretty valid vehicle choice in this situation.  Or a helicopter. 

But as my mind rolled through all the options to go home, I remembered one way that would be…unconventional.  So that’s the direction we headed.

Not long after turning onto the road that was marked with “no outlet”, an oncoming small truck slowed to a crawl and the driver frantically waved us down.  This poor fella found out that the road was indeed a road to almost nowhere and he wanted me to know.  “The roads out up there!” he excitedly told me, to which I replied “I know!” and kept on trucking.  Sam thought this was hilarious.  Why would anyone know a road has no outlet and yet still motor on down the road?

There was a crisis when the road ended.  This is where the vehicles in front of me came to a screeching halt and the realization that the sign was indeed true.  There was no outlet; just a private driveway and a creek.  Game over, case closed, retreat!  Each car made a 3-point turn and roared back the way they came.  They obviously had not been here before.

But we weren’t done because I had been in this spot before.  I had gone down this road, under different circumstances, and discovered that there was a way out.  The no outlet sign was a warning but not the end of the road.  There was no need to turn around.

Have you ever gone down this road?  Not this literal road but the one where your destination seems to be down a no outlet road?  Have you endured seemingly endless dead ends?  Your desire may be to get to a fresh start, a new thing, a better way, but all you see are the signs and people saying to turn around, to retreat, or to settle.

I’m not telling you to avoid wisdom and discernment and ignore everything…but certainly I’m telling you to follow God when it he tells you to go with Him.  He doesn’t care if the sign says “no outlet” because He’s a better sign, and way, maker!  Not all man-made signs are believable; why else would 3 cars continue down a road that had no outlet?  There was hope that there would be a path forward even with the sign telling us otherwise.  We all have varying degrees of questions and hope and are willing to go down paths to truly find the answer!

Sam and I watched the cars make their change of directions and then we pulled into a smaller dirt road, also marked with a dead-end sign.  But immediately after seeing the sign the moon’s reflection hit the water and that was the point where Sam knew exactly where he was.  Giggles ensued.   I switched into four-wheel drive and we poked along, through the shallow creek and onto the other side where a paved road and home awaited.  There was indeed a way.

I am no stranger to dead ends and no-outlets.  Perhaps you have felt that way in your journey as well.  But it doesn’t mean the story ends there.  Don’t stop pursuing God and following his lead.  Even if it seems like a dead end there is something there.  Hopefully we have all felt God at work and recognized His handiwork in our lives.  Don’t forget that.  That’s what carries us through the naysayers, the no-outlet signs, and quite honestly the doubt that lives in between our ears!

We aren’t the only ones.  It’s a theme directly from the Christmas story.  Joseph had faith and followed God.  But he also had a crisis.   He had his wife-to-be, Mary, but there was a problem with marrying her.  She was expecting a child and he had nothing to do with it.   That scenario was a good reason to believe the “no outlet” signs in Josephs life.  He didn’t see a way out or a way forward even being a guy that thought he was faithful and obedient to God.  What a conundrum.

Before he could quietly divorce her and move on with life God provided a way through the perceived dead end.  And thank goodness He did, because Joseph’s decision to keep going, and God’s faithfulness, gives us hope for our future and forgiveness for our sins.  An angel visited Joseph and told Him to keep going, what God was up to, and to be the husband that Mary needed and the father that Jesus would need.  God gave Him a way forward and Joseph kept going.

Dead ends and no-outlets are real downers if we let them define us.  But God hasn’t abandoned us nor are those signs the end of the road.  We can choose to remember the times when God provided and He created a way.  He did it for Joseph; who became the earthly father for a boy whose name means “God with Us.” 

He’s with us.  Then, now, and always.  Keep going.

Group Rides and Snub Clubs

Have you ever belonged where you didn’t fit in?  Now that might be a mind-bending question or simply one that doesn’t make sense, but I hope you can relate.  Sometimes we find ourselves in places we are supposed to be but it’s without the security of fitting in.  Fitting in first doesn’t always mean we are where we need to be, after all.

When I bought my first road bicycle I knew I found something special.  I loved it!  It was special to pound the pedals and go fast.  But I needed some help, maybe a mentor or two, to show me the ropes. 

I heard about a local group that would meet and ride on Tuesday and Thursday nights.  So I decided to show up and test my legs against some more experienced riders.

I knew the time and location of the ride; but what I didn’t know was “the look” of what experienced cyclists portrayed.  Once I found the parking lot there were many expensive bikes.  There was a lot of fancy equipment.  Everyone was clad in lycra and used vocabulary I wasn’t familiar with.  I had a very-used $250 bicycle, some Umbro soccer shorts, and a plain white t-shirt.  I didn’t even have a fancy helmet.  But apparently I had a reason to be there despite not looking like the others.

Over the next 2 hours I found myself learning a lot while pedaling much harder than I ever had before.  I would do my best to figure out what in the world was going on because there appeared to be a rhythm and reason guiding all of these cyclists down the road.  We rode single-file, and everyone would spend a little time at the front before turning off to let the next rider lead.  I had a lot to learn but there were some very gracious people that turned this t-shirt wearing amateur into a professional dream chaser.

That first ride turned into a passion and I became stronger and a bit more speedy.  But the friends from that first ride brought me along, either by riding just in front of me when I needed a break or just behind me when I became stronger.  They helped me find my way on a bike.

It’s a good thing I didn’t let the optics of that first group ride define the potential I had.  And it’s also a good thing that there were people that pushed and pulled along the way to guide me despite not having the right gear or speaking the right lingo.

In the years since I’ve done many group rides and they all have a different feel.  Some can be pretty exclusive; they are more competition and less about community.  They are fast and you either have it and can stay with the group or you don’t and you fall back and form a new group.  These aren’t bad if you are very competitive in nature and are looking for it.  But it’s not a place that everyone can belong.  It makes me chuckle when my friends will call these rides the “snub club” because…well, there are many that will never fit in due to all the accelerations and fast pacing of the ride.  You could easily feel like you belong at the beginning but not have the legs to belong at the end!  I admit, sometimes these exclusive, super-fast rides can mess with your mind because it draws comparisons and either a feeling of belonging or inadequacy.

A few years after my first group ride and while I was still gathering experiences, my bike-shop owning friend told me something that was a compliment but a little embarrassing to tell.  He told me that God gave me a gift of making a bicycle go fast.  Now a lot has changed since then, especially my speed, but that perspective of having a unique God-given gift has not.  Do you know what some of your God-given gifts are?

With that gift in mind it’s fascinating to see how it was developed.  It never came from a place of belonging on the front-end; it came with the initial feeling of not belonging!  But the people that I got to know read my situation and pushed me.  Pulled me.  They unlocked things that I never knew I had.  And apparently I became pretty good at it!

You might be walking around not sure what your God-given gift is.  Maybe you think it’s really odd that I consider wearing lycra and pedaling a bike a God-given gift!  But if you are at all considering that God has given you a gift then you already have it.  You have God in your life!  That’s tremendous! 

Knowing the existence of God and the gift that is Jesus means a lot, but it brings a responsibility that mimics my early bicycle group ride days.  The gift that is Jesus and the work that God does through you is meant to be shared.  And that means that you need to have the eyes, ears, and heart to bring others along.  Sometimes it means you take a “pull” and guide others.  Other times you push from behind.  Other times its riding next to them!  Sometimes it’s simply acknowledging they exist even when they don’t “fit in”.  Your job is to reflect Jesus, give God the glory, and pedal with people!  Show them they have a God-given gift and a gift that is God.  There are many, many people that could use the Hope that Jesus provides if you find a way to bring them along…and many times it has nothing to do with what you say but everything with what you do. 

Sometimes new-to-cycling people get discouraged by trying to ride at the same speed and distance as others.  But it doesn’t work that way.  The common thing between the novice and the expert is the bike…the journey on it might be very different between riders!

I love the thrill of going fast and pushing the pace on a bike ride.  And there are many like me.  But there are always others that need to know how to pedal their own bike and get down the road with enjoyment, passion, and purpose.  They may look different than the typical cyclist but the road that lies ahead of them is just as valuable to them as the road I’ve taken. 

If the gift of a bike ride can be shared then so can the gift of Jesus.  It’s not about fitting in, it’s showing others they belong to Him. 

Lane Changes

“What if you didn’t make it?” was the question posed to me after I had just driven my truck over a snow-covered, divided-highway curb. 

Now I’m not advocating for all of you to start taking your mini-vans, sport-sedans, or work trucks and start hucking them over concrete barriers on highways.  But I am advocating for getting in the lane you are called to and never answering that question.

I was in the middle of Washington D.C. traffic on a Saturday evening and in a bit of a rush to get home.  Jan had called the night before and informed me that she and the boys were fine, but our furnace was not.  Our water pipes were not happy as well with the freezing temps, so she was doing her best as a pioneer woman to keep the heat rolling, the water flowing, and two young, young boys happy. 

I needed to get home.

It’s brutal to sit in traffic and go nowhere fast. But it gets worse when the snow flurries start stacking up and soon there’s a few inches covering the road.  It’s an instant recipe for people to make poor decisions and freak out.  And with that I decided to start navigating the roads that crisscrossed our nation’s capital in an effort to find a new way home; one that was less crazy.

I almost had it; we were just outside of Leesburg, Virginia when I discovered that my way home was in the lane just to my left.  But between me and that lane towards home was a concrete divider covered in snow; roughly 18 inches high. 

Conventional wisdom might say that I could continue in my lane and make my way back to where the lane change was “allowed” by simply taking a longer route.  I could get there eventually through other paths and other roads.  Many would suggest this is the preferred route, especially if they think there is plenty of time to eventually get themselves in the right lane.  There’s safety in not making a change when you think that all roads will eventually lead you back to where you can decide to make a lane change that is smooth and comfortable.

Circumstances can dictate decisions though too.  And I needed to get home to my loves.  I wanted to be with them…now!  Have you ever felt that tug, maybe not the exact story but a sense of calling and love that caused you to make a move without regard to much of anything else?  The main thing was the main thing and there was no denying that pull towards a placement next to them.   Not much else mattered at that time because I could not stay in the wrong lane and experience a together family. 

In between my discovery of being in the wrong lane and my successful median-mashing I ran a calculated risk assessment.  It took all of 3 seconds.  It wasn’t doubting my driving or my truck’s ability, but I was thinking through how to place my tires on the curbing so that I could make it up and over.  In my mind I had already made the decision.  Now I just needed to take a few steps towards that lane and commit!  I took my front left tire onto the curb and with a steady throttle we got each tire up and over.  For all I know Jesus could have shoveled all of the snow off the curb and pushed my truck over as well!

Once the back tires landed on the lane that would take me home, I pressed the gas and we headed towards home.  It was still snowing.  It would still be treacherous.  The way would still have adventure along the way but at least I positioned myself in a lane that was pointing home. 

Driving in and around Washington D.C. is chaotic.  Especially in snowy conditions.  Everyone is in a hurry and everyone is looking for a way to get…home.  It’s not all that different than our souls.  Some are always in a hurry.  Some are hardened and have a “road-rage” attitude.  Some rely only on GPS and choose to have others decide their path.  Others just drive around aimlessly until they get to where they think they need to be! Eventually everyone needs to know the road they are on and where it leads. 

I think there’s a call on your heart that will put you in the right lane if you answer it.  Please don’t deny that.   And if you sense that don’t delay that lane change.  There will be a choice you need to make and perhaps the lane change will be a bit bumpy.  But that longing of love and purpose from God can call you over and set you on your way home.  Making that change can change your course and your life!    

My passenger wanted to know what I was going to do if I had perched my truck on the top of a concrete barrier in northern Virginia.  I never really thought that far to be honest.  The path we were on was not right; end of the story!  So, we had to change lanes.   My answer was “Well, that’s a question I’ll never have to answer because we didn’t!”

Take inventory of the lane you are traveling.  If you are in one lane and Jesus is calling you in that next lane over…well, do what you need to do to get there!  Let go of some things, reach out, soften your heart, climb over a median, do whatever you need to do to get in His lane.

When you decide to get in the lane Jesus is in, you’ll never have to answer the question.

Jesus and Smashing Pumpkins

Pumpkins are crucial to Thanksgiving.  It’s a holiday that gives pumpkins a reason to grow…there is a nod to these gourds in nearly every menu item or decoration.  You might not even like the taste of pumpkin, whether it’s in pies, cookies, a roll, or spiced up and a flavoring in your coffee but you’re gonna see or taste them one way or another.  I’m kinda indifferent towards pumpkins to be honest.  But this week I became more of a fan of pumpkins not because of what I tasted but from what I felt.

That sounds odd, especially when I will tell you that by pumpkins what I really mean is “Smashing Pumpkins”, the alternative/rock/grunge band from the 1990’s.  They aren’t a band you would play at the Thanksgiving table and they have your typical rock and roll band history…just a lot of drama, drugs, unhealthy relationships, etc.  They aren’t wholesome and their lyrics, if you can even discern them aren’t what I would call uplifting or encouraging.  And yet it was this band’s fans that gave me a perspective on the message Jesus wants us to live out and share. 

I stumbled upon a video on YouTube this week that captured The Smashing Pumpkins performing an album release party in a record store in 1993.  As the concert started I was in awe of the nostalgia that came roaring back… the 1990s were so different but so vivid in my memory!  I grew up in the 80’s and 90’s so while it was a bit of a flashback it was also reliving my youth.  Maybe you are of another generation and most likely have different musical tastes but when you see something from your early years it really catches your eye and attention.

Apparently, this little thrown together concert was only available on bootleg tape recordings for 30 years.  The sounds and scene were memorable though and from reading the comments on the video it was legendary, at least to those that declare the Smashing Pumpkins as musicians!  For decades this performance was only talked about or listened to on grainy tapes…and then out of the blue a real video surfaced that captured not just the band but the response of the people that were there.

I continued to watch this old-new video and I see the store packed with teens and 20-somethings.  They had no phones.  No cameras.  And nothing other to do than stand and listen. Then all stood shoulder to shoulder and the first row was 3 feet away from the 4 chairs the band  members sat in…you couldn’t get much closer to the sound and away from distractions than that.  Then I heard the first chords of the first song on their then-new album and it sounded totally different.  The real album had a sonic and extremely loud and full sound from the first chords; this was all stripped down and completely new.  You could tell it was the same song but a new way to hear it…

I’m not a musician but I know enough that the album and style of music the Smashing Pumpkins were known for had a heavy-dose of distortion and other electric ways of manipulating the sounds that came out of a guitar.  I’d say that they had a lot of different sounds that came out of one band, all with the help of technology and experimentation.  The chords may be the same between the electric and acoustic guitar when playing their songs but the sound sure was different listening to that simplified set in a Chicago record store.  The riff from that first song on the album version was intense…because it was so loud.  It fills your ears with all kinds of adjustments made in a sound booth.  The acoustic version was none of this and yet the crowd was full of life from the simple sounds.

Now this is where Thanksgiving, the Smashing Pumpkins, and Jesus all collide in my mind.   I’m watching this concert and I see the crowd fully engaged to the music.  I see them all looking forward, without a phone in their hands, and I see them moving and grooving to the simple sounds that came out from musicians’ hands.  I don’t even hear the lyrics to the songs, which to be honest, I know aren’t exactly life-giving, encouraging, or anything uplifting.  But I see a generation that fully is onboard with the sounds that aren’t distorted, manipulated, or tweaked to be “better” than they really are.  Even though the sounds were super simple compared to the sounds of the electrified-album, the crowd was closer to the original artists than they ever could be at a stadium or arena.  The closeness and simplicity were amazing to watch.  The attendees wanted the same songs but in a stripped-down way and were ready to give their full attention.  That’s what made this little performance legendary to those that were there.

We are in a time that people are hungry for something that moves them and satisfies their soul.  It just needs to be presented in a way that’s not run through a million different distortion pedals, amps, or synthesizers.  Simple.  Real.  From the heart.  Authentic.  Jesus teachings were so simple and yet the playback can get so muddled that others don’t want to hear it because it sounds…not relatable.  Jesus seems made up and far away.

To know Jesus is enough.  But to feel His presence is precious to those that seek it.  It makes you move because it’s personal.  Simple.  It’s like you are 3 feet away from a sweet-sounding song…far better than any alternative-grunge band from the 90’s could ever make you feel.  It’s captivating and pure.  And it’s important to take that feeling, that Holy-Spirit driven emotion, and to come alongside others in their pursuits and lives.  Help them seek Jesus.  Find purpose.  Strip it down, make it simple, keep it real. 

We have a lot to be thankful for on Thanksgiving.  So much.  But I keep coming back to the simple message that Jesus offers.  A distorted version might be catchy and sell records, but the stripped down and personal version is what people remember.  Stay close to Him.  Stay close to those that need Him.  And keep it simple and stripped down.  I promise you THAT song will be better than anything a pumpkin-themed band could ever come up with.

Your Situation is Comfortable

Running has taught me about situational awareness.  My strides have taken me all over trails, roads, and sidewalks, all of which are shared with other people.  So, staying aware of what’s going on comes in mighty handy when you want to run and live to tell the story!

I could tell there was a car coming up behind me but also sensed that it was slowing down.   You can’t help but expect the worse when this happens but as I turned my head, I saw a familiar, friendly face asking if I was ok.  I smiled and shook my head and kept going, happy that I didn’t make someone upset by simply running down the shoulder of the road.

Later on, I asked my friend if I really looked that bad that I needed help.  I ask because it’s not too often that you see someone running and really enjoying themselves.  There tends to be a look of pain or agony or at least intense concentration on the face of a runner.  For an activity that has some health benefits it’s not always apparent that people are living their best life when they put the rubber on the road.

The answer I heard wasn’t that I looked terrible.  Or like death.  She was just being nice and asking…and then said that I always run like I’m comfortable!  That’s pretty funny because while I might portray comfort and ease running is anything but that!  Running is tougher on the muscles and joints than walking.  Its vigorous.  Our hearts and lungs work a bit harder than normal.  We are burning up energy, but it comes at a cost, and that cost is comfort! 

The good thing for me is while I have many decades of running in my legs, I have managed to do the most with the least.  I’ve remained durable and dedicated.  So, while I may not run quite as fleet as I used to, I am still in the game of running.  Even though it’s a tough activity I remain steady in my pursuit of making uncomfortable miles work for my good.  I don’t try to project making something easy, I am literally trying to make the hard strides more tolerable!

The idea of running makes many people uncomfortable.  But in the big picture of life I think it’s an interesting concept…seeking comfort while we are doing uncomfortable things. 

If I truly wanted to seek comfort all the time I wouldn’t run.  But I do run and if I want to continue down this road I need to make peace with the fact that there will be difficult steps but there are also ways to navigate this that will provide a bit of comfort to my mind, body, and spirit.

The same day I did this comfortable run I had two conversations with guys that had no intentions of running.  But both of them are receiving, and giving, an education in finding comfort in uncomfortable situations.

The first one was hit by a drunk driver 6 years ago.  He has dealt with chronic pain ever since then and has had to navigate the world of insurance and settlements.  So, while his body has been broken and has been patched back together, he has had to continue to work and find ways to receive specialty treatments for an accident that was not his fault.  He was telling me about his latest scheduled appointment and how much it will cost, what he has to do between now and then, and all of the work he’s done while his spine is crumbling in his back and how little insurance has really helped him.

And then without warning he flashes a big smile, shakes my hand, wishes me well and says he needs to run his daughter to an appointment.  He is running an uncomfortable part of life with comfort; his smile and eagerness to be a Dad proves that!

An hour later I am talking to the owner of an incredibly neat specialty garage near my house.  He has cars everywhere and I’m sure a mountain of paperwork and phone calls me to make.  But he stops his running around and shakes my hand.  He asks me how I’m doing…and I know he’s the one that just finished his first round of chemotherapy for a blood cancer.  I laugh because my problems are like walking to his cancer diagnosis running!  But we had the chance to catch up a bit, share notes, and provide a little encouragement.  And then he shook my hand and flashed the same big smile and went on his way, making customers happy by caring for their cars like only he can.  Making the uncomfortable times comfortable.

God doesn’t guarantee comfort or a life of ease.  In fact, He will most likely call us out into a time of discomfort…because that’s where He is!  Those tough times do not prove that God doesn’t exist, it’s a call to lean in, lean on, and stride with God.  Tough times and less than perfect circumstances are part of this time on earth whether we realize it or not.  And those times give us a chance to decide where we are going to put our faith and effort.

It’s noticeable when we have comfort in the uncomfortable.  Maybe I have that when I run.  But I saw that when a broken-backed automotive painter shook my hand and went strolling out of a garage in pursuit of his dad-life.  And I saw that when a content and authentically curious car guy genuinely asked how I was doing. 

You can be anyone in any circumstance and manage to have comfort in the uncomfortable.  God provides that ability through His grace.  His awareness to your situation is not a surprise.  His grace is sufficient.  His prescience of comfort allows the runners to run, the broken-bodied to walk, and the cancer-laden to love on passers-by.  He is life when despair and down and out rule the day. 

Switchbacks for Life

The sound of tires squeeling and the faint smell of a clutch wasn’t exactly “French” but here I was, pedaling up Alpe d’Huez and all of its 21 switchbacks with a vehicular soundtrack provided by my wife!

The Alpe d’Huez is a famous mountain that is featured in many versions of the Tour de France.  A trip up the Alpe is epic for any rider, but being in the tour and riding up this beast with fans inches from your arms and legs has to be such a memorable experience and life changing.  I didn’t quite have that feeling but it was still awesome to ride up all 8.8 miles at an average gradient of 8 percent.  We visited this area of France just a few days before a big race I was to do, but the allure of riding up this mountain was so strong I didn’t want to miss the chance to check it out!

Jan followed in our rental car, a Volkswagen Golf complete with a manual transmission.  She was not a stranger to rowing her own gears in a manual-transmission vehicle but she was more of a Jeep or truck driver than a small, European, tiny 4-cylinder driver.  The clutch and engine worked a wee bit different than she was used to so there were a few miles of adjustment.  Every time I pedaled around a switchback I eventually heard a windup of the engine, followed by a tire chirp, and then I saw the Volkswagon reappear as I rounded another switchback.  We played this game most of the way up the mountain, I would pedal through a turn, I’d hear the car slow down, gears being changed and then the gentle bark of a tire to let me know she was coming!  She would stop for a photo or to check out a touristy-site and I would keep pedaling and imagining what it would be like to ride the road with fans yelling and cheering.  We had different modes of transportation to get to the top and different experiences but we were both seeking the same endpoint.  With every turn I could see my wife coming along in the car but I’d also see a crazy illusion of crooked road weaving and winding down the mountain.  We were getting to the top in the most random and twisty way possible.  

That’s the funny thing about switchbacks.  They show you where you have come from but they are often hiding the future from sight.  I couldn’t see all of the switchbacks on the ol’ Alpe as I pedaled but when Jan and I finally reconnected at the top and enjoyed some coffee and lunch we could see all of the twists and turns we had traveled.  When we were at the bottom we had no idea how many tight turns and gentle turns would take over the next 9 miles…we simply couldn’t see them from our vantage point at the beginning.

A giant mountain in France is not the only switchback-equipped mountain we’ve traversed as a family.  It seems like we find ourselves on roads that barely pass as roads and are traveling more vertically than horizontal on many vacation and journeys.   We’ve tackled many four-wheel drive trails that head towards heaven, or at least as high as man can build a road, and it’s rarely ever a straight road that leads to the summit.   There are countless switchbacks that eventually get us to the destination…sometimes it even takes us a few tries to get through a tough turn.  Often times a straight road wouldn’t even be an option to get to the top due to the terrain, the steepness, or quite simply…the mountain wasn’t built that way! 

These switchbacks do a good job of keeping the destination out of sight.  Our curiosity and hope of a mountaintop experience keeps us going however.  Each little straight section is a time to settle in and keep going.  When a switchback shows up it usually kicks up steeply and reverses your direction.  But that reversal does show you where you’ve been, which creates a bit of a shock because it’s so much more impressive than a boring, straight section of road or trail.     The road might be steep and the turns might be plentiful but those glances back show just how far you’ve come when you keep your head looking up.

I am guilty of seeking out switchbacks on trails and roads because they are fun to travel.  I am also guilty of wanting life to go much more in a straight-line!  It would be fantastic for things to make sense and go according to plan.  Or logic.  Or to my routine.  But they don’t and they won’t and that’s by design.  We might want life to work that way but if it did we wouldn’t have faith.  And God is on the mountaintop, calling us by our name to follow Him.   He’s happy to draw us close to Him and prove to us that He can be trusted…while keeping the road of the future a bit vague or out of sight!  Just keep going and trusting…

We can hear that voice and feel that presence and it’s a great statement to say we are on the road with God! But did you know that road will have switchbacks? It will be twisty. Rocky. There will be turns and places where you’ll be white-knuckling it like you were driving on a narrow shelf road in the Rockies! But when you look back and down and see how all of those twists and turns has lead to the here and now…well that’s quite the testimony. It’s also fuel to keep going because while you might not see the top of the mountain or the way the road goes to get there you know it’s worth the trek. When you believe the road has purpose and place then you keep going; and switchbacks provide the perfect balance of showing you how far you’ve come and hiding what’s ahead

Country Loving

It all changed in a blink of an eye.  One day I’m driving my truck and have complete control on what is coming out of the speakers and over the radio.  I could control it all on a handy little button on my steering wheel; I could scroll through channels but more often than not it stays on one.  It’s simpler that way!  Then, out of the blue one day, a small hand reached towards the dashboard and started flipping through the stations.  It was surreal.  And to make matters worse the channel surfing stopped on country music stations!  My ears!  I had now lost all control of music to the hands of an 11-year old and 13-year old.

It didn’t stop there.  The next thing I knew my radio in my garage changed too.  And the volume went way up.  What I had as background noise turned into twanging and boot-scootin’ for all to hear.  When the boys are outside riding bikes the radio is on…thank goodness our neighbors are not within ear-shot.

So this latest season of life has me listening to a lot of country music lyrics.  Some of the songs are pretty catchy and almost wholesome and they weave a lot of good into the ears of my two country-loving boys.  But there’s also a lot that presents teachable moments.  We talk a lot about beer, love gone wrong, and dysfunctional relationships because that’s what a lot of the songs are about, whether they know it or not.  All of these country songs made me think of a unique saying I once heard about friendships from someone I deeply respect.

“You gotta love the hell out of your friends”.

Now that sounds like a lyric right out of a country song but it’s not the way you would think.  It’s actually encouragement that if you know Jesus it’s time to pass the good news of His salvation on to others.  It’s a choice you know.  Your love can help others choose wisely!

Loving the hell out of your friends requires sacrifice and a sincerity that is authentic.   And I hate to say it, but often times the best way to gently nudge others to consider their eternal place of residence is to go through tough times with your faith intact.  Many times actions or responses speak louder than words.

Popular country songs often tell sad stories that make you cry a tear in your beer.  But that resonates with people because that’s life!  There are times of sadness on this earth!  But when we are in the clutches of Jesus’ loving hand and can see things His way that is noticeable to others.   When we can profess our faith even when things don’t make sense…when we can love the seemingly unlovable and forgive the nearly unforgivable that’s a pathway for others to see faith in action.   Those responses often catch the attention and open up conversations about life, maybe even death, and the life on the other side of earth.

Faith is an uncommon response to common problems.   It doesn’t mean its easy or that if you have faith you are perfect.  Struggling is real but that’s what joins us all together.  When you see your struggles as a platform for faith and an introduction into a life of following Jesus it changes things.   Others’ choice for eternity might hang on their perception of how you handle tough times, tough people, and tough circumstances. 

Country crooners have a lot to sing about.  There’s no shortage of catchy tunes…and maybe poor decisions being blasted over the airways.  Trust me, I’ve had to endure listening to country music a lot here lately!  But if you ever hear “You gotta love the hell out of your friends” you can take that statement seriously.  Live a life fully submitted to Jesus and bring your friends along.  The high life awaits for those that have friends in low places…and share the way out!

In DeFence of Love

My coach certainly had a plan in mind but it didn’t involve destroying a chain-link fence.  I’m certain of that.  But here I was, laying on the ground with galvanized pipe and fence laying around me while my teammates and coaches pondered my health and their ever-changing plan to win a baseball game.

As it turned out, the game plan only created a new problem in the form of a hyper-active 13-year old Josh. That problem is similar to a bull in a china shop.   You see, our little league team was playing a double-header and in order to guide all of the players through an extra set of innings there would be periods of rest and sitting out.  So I sat on the bench most of the first game which resulted in a condition where I felt like I was crawling out of my skin.  I wanted to play and to play hard!  I wasn’t a big asset as a hitter but put me anywhere on defense and I would make plays.  And the last time I checked a team needs to make outs to win baseball games!  I knew I was needed and had a spot, I just needed to be in the lineup.

So by the time our second game rolled around I was desperate to burn off some energy.  I was doing everything in the field while my teammates were having batting practice.  You name a spot on the field and I was running, throwing, and catching.  My coach probably thought he was smart for “resting” me but then a ball came off the bat and lazily faded into foul territory…

But even though there was nothing to be gaining by catching a pop fly IN BATTING PRACTICE I gave pursuit.  Even in my mind I knew it was a stretch but the longer the ball stayed in the air the faster my feet went.  It seemed to hover in mid-air when I made my last stride before launching into a dive.  That’s right, my body became horizontal as I stretched and extended to get the baseball to land in my mitt.  With the ball just touching my glove I then heard the sound of steel straining and my body start to slow-motion crumple as the chain link fence swayed, absorbed my hit, and then pushed back, leaving me in a crumpled mess with the baseball on the ground.

My coach made the game plan but it was not to be.  I certainly put a wrench into those plans when I couldn’t contain my excitement and dove into a fence.  Have you ever made plans only to have someone else mess them up?

Of course you have!  People always mess up our plans!  It’s a daily occurrence when someone cuts us off, says the wrong thing, does the wrong thing, or simply doesn’t line up to our plan.  And you know what?  It’s ok.

The best part of that dive into a rusty chain link fence was that it had some give.  It swayed, leaned, and absorbed the impact.  It let me down softly, even though I ran into it at full speed.

The tricky part about our plans is that sometimes we make them too rigid.  And then our response to failed plans is even worse! 

The nice thing about my coach was that he cared for me after I ruined his game plan.  In hindsight he might have not recognized the degree to which I wanted to play and the chance to play 2 (!) games far superseded any fatigue I may have had.  I was born to endure and play!  He could have easily ripped me for diving for a pointless foul ball.

Plans can be good.  Especially when they are God-breathed and ordained.  But more than anything our response to broken, messed-up, and thwarted plans says a lot about our walk of faith.  Do we look at others the way God does even after they mess up our plans?  Are we like a brick wall to them or do we have some give and flex, where we can still muster up love despite the loss of a plan?  Having some flexibility means that we have a deeper understanding of them and how God sees them.  Maybe our plans were faulty in that we didn’t see others accurately! 

We have all been there.  It’s not a new phenomenon either!  Check out the book of Jonah.  He didn’t really want to go where God wanted to send him.  He had other plans.  The book goes on with a whale and Jonah getting swallowed up, spit out, and then he adjusts his plans.  By the end of the book Jonah does what he’s called to do and yet is still angry at other people.  But God explains His compassion and love for others isn’t for us to judge.  We are simply to follow Him, and often times that means loving those that wreck our plans.

I walked away from my batting practice mishap because of a forgiving fence.  Plans were changed and glasses were broken but God’s love for me remained intact.  My coaches were also supportive and adaptable to a revised lineup.  When we experience a change of plans are we rigid or do we have some flex because we know God loves them as well?  We can always plan but God has the last say.  Might as well live with love when the plan works…and when it fails in spectacular fashion!

Gracie, Can You Save Me a Seat?

Gracie is going through the toddler phase of being a canine.  She’s mouthy.  Persistent in her ball fetching.  Demanding in her attention-getting.  And just when you want to groan or discipline she turns the “cute-meter” way up to a level 10 and you simply can’t get mad. 

Thankfully I’m not one of her dog parents and I don’t have to try to navigate obedience training with a stern face because I can’t do it.  But my friends are trying.  And I laugh at the futility of it all.  She is in charge and she knows it.

So when Gracie’s dog dad, Jason, and I went to run a few errands she naturally went along.  And while she does go into some stores there are others that I run in solo so that Gracie the toddler-dog and her dad can wait in the car and work on their discipline. 

On one of these errands I was walking out of a convenience store with our lunch when a man approached me.   In my mind I thought, “Oh boy, here we go, I wonder what sad story he has? “, but I stopped to listen to his story. 

He and his wife were traveling back to Washington D.C. and were nearly out of gas.  He was wondering if I had any money to help.  The story sounded simple enough and from what I could gather he wasn’t having too much luck with anyone else in the parking lot. 

Now I was raised in center-city Newville, Pennsylvania, which had a population of maybe 2,000 people.  We had, and the town still has, one red-light.  I don’t have “street smarts” but I am a thinker.  So in a matter of seconds I scanned the parking lot, saw what looked to be his wife sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, and listened to him long enough to think that maybe he was telling the truth.  I was a bit distracted because my hands were full and I could hear a dog barking in the background.  I thought it was Gracie telling me to hurry up!

I wasn’t sure that walking over to the pump and whipping out a credit card was a good idea but I knew I had some money in my pocket, so that’s what I got out and handed over to my new friend.  I didn’t have a feeling that my offer was inferior or wrong, it simply was all I had to offer that seemed somewhat safe.  He was gracious and ran inside immediately and put the $10 on the pump he was parked at.  It wasn’t going to get him the whole way there but it was a start.  It all seemed legit in my mind as I walked over and pulled the handle on the passenger door to head off towards the next errand.

As soon as I started to sit down a dog started barking but it wasn’t Gracie.  It was a small, frilly-looking, white poodle thing!  I also saw a driver sitting there but it definitely wasn’t Jason.  Between the dog having a fit and a stranger staring at me I jolted out of my giving-gamble and into an “oops, I opened the wrong car door” dilemma! 

My friend certainly doesn’t look like a 50-something, blond-haired woman that smokes cigarettes but that is a description of the owner of the car I was about to enter…before I came to my senses.  I was too busy contemplating my recent action and worried if it was real, fake, good, good-enough, or even worth it.  I apologized profusely and slinked away, closing the car door like nothing ever happened.  I backed away and walked over the correct car, the one I wanted to go home in.  That could have been really, really bad!

I sheepishly got in the correct car and asked Jason if he saw my little adventure.  Thankfully he did not because he would still be laughing at my expense!   But he did say that the same man came over to him and asked for money.  And Gracie went berserk barking so the man apologized and walked away.  But he felt bad because he did want to help, it just wasn’t working out with Gracie and her ferocious barking.  As it turned out we still helped, it just took some teamwork and leaning on another to fulfill the need.

The whole ordeal of helping and then getting in the wrong car taught me something about our perspective and purpose on earth.  We are called to do good deeds!  But we are also given a chance to give our life to Jesus and follow Him with the work He has planned for us.  He has plans for you and me…you know that, right?!  It is possible to do good but never know Jesus…and if we are looking to heaven we need to know Him!  Works alone won’t get us there and what better way to know our Creator than to allow ourselves to do the things He designed us to fulfill.  It’s not always visible to others.  It doesn’t always get “likes”.  It’s just walking towards heaven with a Father that directs our steps.  If we are simply doing good on our own terms, in our own eyes, and through the worlds accolades then we are riding in the wrong car.

Alignment with organizations, programs, causes, and purposes aren’t bad things, but they shouldn’t replace a relationship with God.  They may be part of our walk with Him but not THE thing!  Knowing, submitting, and walking daily with Him in surrender and selflessness is the way, and quite honestly, it can be a bit challenging!   That way presents opportunities to make a difference that is personal and yet reflects the heart of Jesus to a world that desperately needs to see it.  You are fulfilling the need on earth from a heavenly perspective.   Just make sure you get in the correct car.

Haseeb

Jan taught two years in the school district we live in.  It was, by far, the most difficult two years of her teaching career.  It was a perfect storm of circumstances all the way around which left her feeling like she jumped out of the fire and into the frying pan. 

Those two years she moved around into different buildings and had different coworkers and many different students.  But there was one student that somehow had his schedule line up with Jan’s for both years.  In fact, the second year their schedules aligned so that Haseeb was in Jan’s room all but 2 hours of the day on the pandemic-altered school day.

All of this time with one student sure creates opportunities to get to know them.  And this could easily be torture if the student is adept at pushing buttons and generally dislikes school, the teacher, or the subject.  But Haseeb was driven to learn and gave Spanish a good try.  It’s not like he actually needed to learn Spanish as he already spoke multiple languages!

On the last day of school of 2021 Haseeb returned his laptop to Jan and mentioned he and his mother were going to return to Afghanistan to visit his siblings and family.  He was extremely excited and Jan was for him, although it wasn’t without a mothering instinct of telling him to be safe and that she looked forward to seeing him in the fall.

The summer flew by and Jan remained in school mode, trying to wrap her head around virtual learning and new requirements. It was hard to take a break from “school Jan”, but that soon changed with information about Haseeb.

During his visit with his family Haseeb was robbed at gunpoint and his visa and passport were taken.  He wasn’t physically harmed but now he was in Afganistan with his mom and no quick way to get back. 

At the time the United States had an embassy and he tried several times to push the correct paperwork through in order for he and his mom to get back.  His father, who was still back in the U.S. had friends that could speak English well and could work on this new problem back home.

And then Afghanistan erupted into chaos and the Taliban took over.  It was a whole new ballgame for Haseeb.  He had to grow up fast…at age 15 he was responsible for moving himself and his mother around the country safely.  Eventually the goal was to find a way to another country that did have a US embassy and then get a plane to a third country that had a more friendly and/or commercial airline path to the US.  It wasn’t easy or safe but eventually he found his way into Pakistan for their next step.

Watching Afghanistan’s government change on television made Jan’s stomach turn.  She called the school to see if Haseeb had made it back.   They informed Jan that he did not but they would “keep him on the roles”.  That wasn’t exactly the news she wanted to hear but it’s also rare for a teacher to have one student for the amount of time that Jan did over two years.  Haseeb was an Afghan son to her!

Out of the blue in September Jan received a notification from an app that the school started to use during the pandemic.  There, on her screen, was a message from Haseeb.  With social media on a major crackdown there remained one lonely option that no one cared about called Schoology! 

So that’s how we followed and encouraged Haseeb as he and his mom moved around the country.  Eventually we moved into more “standard” modes of communicating through WhatsApp and Facebook messenger, but the one new part of virtual learning that Jan loathed was what connected us back to Haseeb.  Jan even changed districts that she taught in but we always, always kept tabs on Haseeb.

Over the next 2 and a half years (!) Haseeb tried his best to get on a plane back to the US.  We tried reaching to senators and representatives.  I know His father was doing everything he could as well.  But more than anything there were a lot of prayers in this time!  I know of several local churches where a whole squad of little old ladies were praying for a teenage Muslim boy that worked hard in school and was guiding his mother around a forgotten and hopeless (Haseeb’s words, not mine!) land.  We would get some messages going and then things would go radio silence until Haseeb had a way to get online. 

Just a few weeks ago I was mowing grass in a graveyard.  This was fascinating because I know now that Haseeb referred to Afganistan as a graveyard as well.  But as I was pushing a mower a message popped up on my phone and said was “We are home”.  Like home, home!  Like Haseeb and his mom were reunited with his dad in little old Carlisle, Pennsylvania.  It was a miracle.

Last Friday Jan, the boys, and I went over to celebrate with Haseeb and his parents.  There was so much to celebrate and catch up on!  It was like worlds colliding of two different families with different backgrounds and faiths but all we could do was smile.  And eat.  We ate a lot, because no matter what nationality or background a mother is from, they know that cooking great food and lots of it is one way to celebrate!  Haseeb said that when there is good food and a common table that people from all different backgrounds become friends.  He is absolutely right.

The odds of returning home were so stacked against Haseeb when Afghanistan fell to the Taliban.  The odds of Jan surviving those two years of teaching mentally and emotionally were pretty slim but Haseeb was a bright spot that kept her going. 

Do you know God breaks your heart for what breaks His?  Jan almost lost her mind for those two years teaching but her heart broke for a student that gave his best effort to learn a 5th (!) language in her class and was stranded in his home country.  It wasn’t enough to just wait and see.  I’d have to ask Haseeb but even at age 14 I bet he felt bad for Jan in the classroom.  He was one of the only ones that actually turned his screen on for virtual classes.  In my mind I can still hear Haseeb and Jan talking on Zoom in virtual Spanish class.  His involvement gave Jan purpose in a time that nothing seemed to matter.

I’d love to tell more of Haseeb’s story but that will come.  He’s a fascinating young man and is so eager to become part of American culture…he is an entrepreneur, student, and will probably make a name for himself with his ideas and personality.  But Jan and I will always know him as the kid that got Jan through a tough time…and hopefully he will remember us the same way.

Baby Giraffes Can Run Well

I’m an early riser but not an early-morning runner.  You may be laughing in agreement because you know the struggle of running first thing in the morning.  Or you may be laughing because you do not, and will not, run at any part of the day!  Either way, you can humor me and agree that while it’s good to cross something like physical fitness off your list for the day it’s extremely difficult to actually enjoy it when it’s dark outside and our bodies are a bit stiff and rigid from a good night’s sleep.

But once in a while I have to decide…do I want to get a run or ride in today?  If the answer is “Yes” then sometimes it calls for getting up at O’dark-thirty and asking the legs to get moving.  And that’s what I did while my wife and I were at her college reunion.  With the day looking pretty full of remembering and rewinding I knew that if running was going to be part of the plan then I would have to get out the door of our hotel nice and early.

My alarm went off and after a quick coffee I moseyed out the door and into the new day that was really just an extension of the night.  It was dark but the air was crisp and I started to get my stride going in a way that somewhat resembled running.

There were very few cars out on the road and the drivers that were out probably thought they saw a baby giraffe learning to run as I tried to get my legs and arms moving into a complementary pattern.  Efficient running strides take the better part of a day in my mind, so I was cramming all of my waking up in a few hundred yards of Pennsylvania rural roads.

In my mind I thought I would try to outrun the darkness.  I couldn’t see my feet very well and I was using the moon to light up the road ahead of me.  If I ran until the sun rose than everything would be hunky-dory.  I’d just have to stay out long enough for that to happen. 

The road took me straight east and I could see the sun start to poke up above the endless rolling hills.  I was about 4-miles in when the sun finally cleared the horizon and I saw the fog-filled fields start to clear.  I also just entered into the town of Grove City and decided that I would take a small detour and run a loop there before I ventured back to our hotel.

Three turns later I had covered an additional mile but also positioned myself with the sun over my shoulder.  Between the sun’s new placement  and my excitement of heading back to my wife I really started feeling good.  Gone were the disjointed strides and awkward steps.  In their place was a quick, snappy, pace where my feet popped off the ground.  I stood upright and leaned forward.  My watch kept showing a pace that grew faster and faster.  All of this felt wonderful, even though it was still pretty early in the day.  All I had to do was commit to running in the dark, change my direction, and put the sun in the right spot!

Did you read that?  Even if you don’t fancy yourself a runner can you relate to wanting to get out of the darkness?  Have you ever felt like a spot you were in was a real downer?  Dark?  Depressing?  Not the spot that had light and life?  Have you felt like sin, shame, doubt, and despair made up your days rather than anything resembling light?   We all experience darkness of varying lengths and degrees.  It’s part of life on earth and our human nature.   But what if an early morning run helps us get through life in a fallen world?

It only took a step to start running on my early morning jog.  I could have easily slept in and not even tried to get up and moving.   That initial acceptance of an invitation to run set into motion many more steps that lead to me seeing the sun rise for the day.  I started in the dark but didn’t want to stay there because I had a curiosity and desire for something better than taking steps without seeing where they would land!

Once the sun did pop out for the day, I made a decision that I wanted to make some adjustments so that the sun was over me.  I didn’t want to stay on the course that darkness set.  I needed to get back to my sweet, caring wife so I returned on the same road but with a new perspective and spring to my step, all because the sun was now over me and lighting up the return trip.

After my decision to run in the dark, and my couple of adjustments to my route, I settled into a stride where the sun directed my steps.  I was no longer looking for light but simply putting one foot in front of the other in the presence of light.  Those strides were the best strides of the whole run.  I might have started in the dark, but I wanted to run in the light and there was nothing like it that I had experienced beforehand.

You may not be a runner, but I’d encourage you to take a step if you are feeling like you are living in the dark.  Even if it’s one step…take it!  Take that step to look for the light that Jesus offers.  Go down the road and look for Him.  He’s not hidden, He has risen like the sun for each and every one of us.   

When you see Him expect to have to change directions, you don’t want your history, your past, or your dark circumstances to set your direction.  You can’t be directed by those and expect a new you if you continue on that path.  You want HIM to set your course!  And when you make those turns and you feel His presence on you, over you, and in you keep on taking those steps.  Let Him strengthen you, guide you, protect you, and develop you as you run your race.  You may have started running in the dark but it won’t end there. 

Maybe there is something to those dark, early-morning runs.

The Answer Is Blowing In the Wind

My wife Jan and I are about to embark on a college visit.  It’s not really a visit as much as a revisit.  It’s a revisit to the place she graduated from just “a few” years ago and to say she’s excited to go back is a bit of an understatement.

I am very happy to accommodate this as well, not just because I’m her hunk of a husband (it’s ok to laugh here!) but because I am fortunate she left college without some loser boyfriend and eventually met me!

The story went something like this; on one of Jan’s first days on campus it was announced that students should “look to their left and look to their right, because their future mate may be in sight.”  Talk about pressure!  And in reality many of her classmates are happily married to people they met in college.  The same thing can happen at any college because you have a lot of young people that want to answer that big question in life.

But Jan was a relationship Houdini and managed to graduate with a degree and without a ring.  Lucky me! 

Not long after she graduated Jan made a list.  She made it through 4 years of college and didn’t meet “the one” so she set to making a list of characteristics and hopes in a future husband.  She wrote it all down and then tucked it away in her bible.  When you have a desire, a hope, and dreams that’s a great place to store them while the answer develops.

Two years later we not only met, but spent nearly every day getting to know each other and it was decided that this was for real;  we were meant to be together forever!

Jan had her list and I managed to save up some money from bike racing to buy a ring.  I even made her ride her bike up a mountain in order to get to the proposal and ring.  All was set and we were excited.

The evening before our wedding Jan was driving to the rehearsal dinner.  Her mind was racing with everything about to happen but sitting on passenger seat was her bible, and in that was the list that she created and then handed over years before.  Without much thought she put the passenger side window and down and the vacuum-effect of the wind open her bible and sucked all the papers, her husband-list and all, out the window and off into the countryside. 

Have you looked for answers to life’s questions?  Jan did.  I do, and still have a lot of unanswered questions!  Did you ever think that the order in which we pursue an answer is as important as the actual answer?

Jan had a question and it was eventually answered, not just with me nervously handing her a ring, but by God’s mighty wind taking away her list forever but leaving me for her, forever!   But she didn’t start the hunt for a husband by hanging out at a bar or signing up for some service.  Or settling for someone that happened to be at the same college at the same time.  Nope, she wrote down what she wanted and gave it to God.

Boy, I tend to get ahead of myself sometimes when I want a question answered.  I think the cliché is “get ahead of my skis”…where I start the process of getting an answer, making an answer, or demanding an answer long before its time.  I get ahead of the process and God’s timing.  Jan wrote down who she wanted to be with before she could see me; I suppose it’s best to write down our questions, concerns, hopes, and dreams and then give them to God before we can see the outcome as well!

So the order matters.  We can get ahead of ourselves and look everywhere for an answer.  Or we can drop it at the foot of the cross, where God has our best in mind, His timing in mind, and a healthy relationship with Him in mind!  If we start there we will have a peace that can’t be duplicated by any worldly advice and an outcome that is unique to you.

It doesn’t mean all of the answers are exactly what you want, when you want them.  That’s not the reality of life here on earth.  But our hope is built through perseverance, and when God has our heart than He can certainly provide answers that are meant to draw you to Him and grow your faith.

It’s ok to look to your left, and your right, for answers.  But I’d suggest writing your questions out and laying them down first! 

I’ll See You When I See You

My great aunt is now 92-years old.  She is a local treasure; her memory and experiences go beyond nearly anyone else that’s walking around south-central Pennsylvania.  Once the stories get going you can’t help but smile and settle in to hear what happens next.  They are that good!

So one would think that when you have the wisdom and experience that comes with 92 years of living you would know that you may be considered “old”.  While she was born before World War 2 she has a kid’s heart. 

We were sitting together in the emergency room on a rainy summer night.  She was the patient, but she was keeping me entertained with some stories.  She had just arrived by ambulance and while she needed some care for her condition, she was the normal Aunt Janet I’ve come to know for the last 45 years. 

While we were there, she told me about her last ride in an ambulance and how much worse that particular ride was than the most recent one.  I thought that maybe the driver was bad, or the nurses couldn’t find a vein for an IV or something.  Nope, it was a bad experience because of what they called her.

The ambulance driver had the nerve, the audacity, the guts to call my great Aunt Janet an “elderly white female”!  She overheard him calling in information about his precious cargo to the hospital and let it slip that she was of an age that he deemed “elderly”.

My aunt is white.  She is a female.  But she was fired up about the elderly part.  She doesn’t seem elderly.  She could probably still run if I asked her to and she still wears the running shoes I sold her years ago.  Her memory is sharp.  She really is like a walking, talking, human google-great aunt of describing how things used to be and were.  Elderly might be how some describe 90-somethings, but she refuses to buy into that label.  If only the ambulance driver knew that!

So I heard about the terrible ambulance ride for a bit and then we flashed back to the current situation at hand when the doctor came into the room.  He explained that there was a procedure he could do to help with her condition.  That was great news!  But he followed with a bit of a “come to Jesus” talk where he explained that if she had come to the hospital right away his procedure would have had literally zero risk.  If she had come a few hours later there would be a little more risk.  But because she came 10 hours later, he was facing a more tricky process to do what he needed to do.  The situation was more involved but still fixable; But I was picking up what he was laying down.  There was no need to wait and see and by doing so things were more difficult.  If there is a “next time” Aunt Janet needs to get herself some care much sooner.  But while the doctor might have said she was late I was thankful she wasn’t out of time completely.

Now while others may have started worrying more my Aunt Janet remained…Aunt Janet.  When it was time for me to leave the room so she could have her surgery we said a prayer.  And then as I turned to head out to the waiting room I heard “I’ll see you when I see you!”  That’s so profound and humorous despite the circumstances we found ourselves in.  

You don’t make it 92 years by worrying about things incessantly.  And apparently you can rejoice in whatever comes next when you know where you and the ones you love are heading! 

Aunt Janet made it through her procedure in 15 minutes and we were reunited in the room and continued our conversation as if we were sitting and hanging out at the kitchen table. 

Driving home I pieced together the world of Aunt Janet.  I would describe it as this:

-Know who God made you to be.  Don’t let other define you; even ambulance drivers!

-If you are still breathing you still have time to make decisions that affect your life, whether that’s a trip to the hospital or following Jesus.

-When you experience God for a while, whether it’s a day or 92 years, there is no need to worry.  You’ll meet others again in heaven.

So there you have it, just some of the wisdom from my great Aunt Janet.  Learn it, live it, and love it.  And I’ll see you when I see you!

Welcome to the Valley

There’s a quote from John Muir declaring “The mountains are calling and I must go”.  Now to be fair, I have not read the book from which this quote is from, but I know for certain that it is popular.  It’s a rallying cry to get out into nature and see the sights and take in the splendor that only mountains can provide. 

My dad is a big fan of this quote, so much so that he had a license plate on his truck and spare tire covers on his camper that said as much.  He loves the quote because he enjoys the mountains as a place.   He has a degree in forestry after all, and many of our vacations revolved around mountains and mountain activities.  Mountains are special because special things have happened there.   So, it was a bit of a surprise when I sold his truck and camper and handed him his John Muir paraphernalia and he responded with “The mountains are nice, but we don’t have to go anywhere to enjoy life.  It’s ok just to be here and to be together.”  Life’s experiences sometimes change your outlook.

Recently we did head to the big mountains in Colorado.    And John Muir was in full force out there.  There were bumper stickers, coffee mugs, t-shirts, and keychains declaring everyone’s intent to go to the mountains.   You would think the mountains would be overrun with people clamoring to get to where ol’ John was talking about.

But they really weren’t; we saw more John Muir quotes in the REI parking lot than people on the trails deep in the woods.   We went off the beaten path, beyond the paved road and into the Pines and even above the tree line.  It was awesome and inspiring.  But we barely saw a soul.  For as many people that want to experience the call of the mountains it’s a challenge to get there.   Just ask my Dad; cancer and health problems have kept him away from the mountains.  But as he recently commented, it’s less about mountains and more about who you are with and how God gives you peace wherever you may be.  

If we aren’t all in the mountains answering the call that means we are in the valley.  Ah, the valley.  Sometimes it’s the valley of waiting.  The valley of despair.  The valley of unmet expectations.  The valley of diminished hope.  The valley of chaos or confusion.  The valley of poor health and terrible luck.  The valley is where we all look and listen for someplace else to make us feel better because valley life is the difficult life.   

And that’s why mountains speak to us; because they are above the valley that is tough living.  It’s where healing, answers, and the good life is perceived to come from.  To find happiness and meaning we have to go vertical.  Go up.

But what if I told you valley living can be done well and it’s necessary?  We don’t have to necessarily go “up”, we need to look “up” whether we are in the valley, the foothills, or the high peaks.

Years ago, before I even met Jan, I set off on a bike ride from Colorado Springs to Breckenridge, Colorado.  This was before GPS and smart phones, so I eyeballed it as best I could on a paper map and set off on a Sunday to ride there.  I think it was 130-ish miles the way I planned it and I knew of a few mountain passes along the way.

A little over halfway through the ride I crested the top of a hill and I lost my breathe; not because of the altitude but because of the arrow-straight road that stretched for many, many miles ahead of me.  I had empty bottles and an endless horizon to ride across.  Ugh.  The valley of thirst and headwinds was ahead of me and I had nothing other than hope and some prayers.

At that moment I was riding less for a place or destination but because I needed God’s presence to guide me and protect me on an exposed, flat-as-a-pancake road.  I kept pedaling and God’s presence gave me all I needed to get across to the next town and eventually I crossed the big mountain that lead me into Breckenridge.  No one explained to me that in order to get to the big mountains I’d have to cross a lonely valley.  But the finish, deep in the Rockies, was so much sweeter considering the long valley I traversed earlier in the ride.

So fellow valley-dwellers take heart.  The mountains may call but God’s in the valleys as well.  His place is beside you, not hidden in the trees of a high peak somewhere; although He can be there too!   Valley living is a destination that has purpose even when it seems so very different than the perceived “peak” life of mountains.  Many long for only the mountains but there’s good growth and purpose in the valleys.   We need God’s presence over any particular place. 

The mountains are calling and valley life is difficult.  But God’s presence is in both places.

When Bees Sting and Tires Hiss

I was minding my business, mowing the grass as quickly as possible, when a bee thwacked me on the Achilles tendon.  It didn’t even give me a warning by saying “buzz”!  I yelped, let out a yell, and darted across the yard, only to see a whole gang of yellow jackets swarming around my abandoned mower.  Within a few minutes I had a swollen ankle, a half-mowed yard, and my thoughts were jumbled on how to finish mowing before we should hit the road for an 1800-mile road trip.  According to my plan, mowing was the last thing to do before setting off for the great American road trip!

I was mowing in shorts and old sneakers.  Standard mowing attire for a 40-something dad I suppose.  Apparently, I was vulnerable to bee attacks since they had a nice hiding hole in the middle of the yard, and I had nothing to stop them from take a whack at my legs and arms.  But the thought never crossed my mind to wear jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and boots, because…it’s August!  Which did I want?  A bee sting or heat stroke?  Sometimes it pays to be vulnerable rather than suffer the consequences of perceived safety.  Bees can still sting through clothes after all.

Days later I toed the line at a very long, very challenging mountain bike race in the Rockies.  My bee-stung leg was almost down to normal size.  I was ready for a long day in the saddle and looking forward to the long climbs and screaming fast downhills that awaited my arrival.  I had done my homework on how to train, what gear to use, and how to pace myself at altitude.  Now all that I had to do was execute and experience the thrill of adventure and hopeful success!

In the starting corral there was a lot of chatter about bikes and gear.  It’s one thing to drag our bodies up and over mountain passes but there is always the gear selection that has everyone looking around and asking opinions.  There’s wisdom in choosing things by experience but not everyone has experience; so, they ask for opinions!   There’s a lot of talk about bike setups and consequently people choose things that will leave them with the least amount of risk based on what the masses choose.  Being vulnerable to flats or a mechanical is what everyone tries to avoid so there ends up being a lot of analysis paralysis as well.  Not everyone experiences the same things in a race so what works for some doesn’t work for all.  If racers were mowing my grass, they would be torn between shorts and sneakers or a full beekeeper suit just in case there happened to be bees in the grass!

I chose my bike setup based on a few personal things.  For starters, it’s the bike I currently owned, it works fine, and a fancy new bike is not in the budget at this time!  Before the race, I cleaned it up, tuned it up, and grabbed a new set of tires.  I chose the tires because I used them in the past, they looked super-cool, and they tested well for rolling resistance.  I wanted a tire to go fast on the not so rocky parts of the course because that’s what I really enjoy; it was important to me to roll fast!  Notice I didn’t pick a tire based on its robust reputation of being flat proof.  Flat proof tires are notoriously slooooow.  Whether I realized it or not, I was choosing to be a little bit vulnerable because I wanted to ride the race to the best of my ability, not ride the race in an abundance of caution and perceived security of thick tires.

The race was 105 miles long and I endured mega-climbs and observed spectacular, scenic views.  There was sunshine and some cold, mountain rain.  I felt great as I passed the last aid station and started to let it rip the last 15 miles towards the finish line.  I was passing people left and right and when I glanced at my bike computer, I was sure that I would have a much, much, faster time than the previous year.  I had endured the course and my bike was working great, I just pointed it where it needed to go and kept pedaling!  On a personal level I desperately thought I needed a big breakthrough of something going “right” for a change. 

And then I heard the distinct sound of a tire losing air.  Much like a bee stinging my leg while mowing I had a sharp rock take a chunk of my tire and leave it airless.  But in this case, I didn’t run away and say “ouch”; I let out a huge sigh and tried to wrangle my bike to a stop from 30 miles per hour without crashing into a tree.

Vulnerability strikes again.  I mowed in shorts and got stung by a bee.  I chose a tire and managed to find the one rock in 100 miles that proved to be just enough to puncture a tire. 

At the side of the road I fumbled with my few choices to repair my tire.  It was cold, it was raining, and while I had my back to the trail I could hear countless riders pass me.  I was doubting my life choices there but remained calm and kept my cool.  Staying calm and fixing a flat like I’ve done hundreds of times before would prove to be the best recipe to keep going.  Dwelling on the heat of the moment or the size of the moment in a race I wanted to do well in was not going to make things go any faster.  My response to my vulnerable moment had to be consistent with my beliefs; there will be a way out of this predicament and God will show me how!

In a world that chooses perceived safety and “sure things” being vulnerable isn’t our first choice.   And when our vulnerability is showcased it’s often seen as a weakness.   But some of us have to be the ones that lead, inspire, and encourage.  In the race of life, and leading others to run their race with Jesus, we have to accept that vulnerability and our consistent response to that vulnerability is the fuel for a faith-walk.  We aren’t always going to be void of bee stings and flat tires.  Or from disease or car crashes.  Or heartache and headaches!  Letdowns are real and happen despite our best avoidance and there is a hungry audience watching our response and authenticity to the situation.  Experiencing God through perceived letdowns and letting Him change your mind, your heart, and your circumstances is powerful stuff.

I went through two tries to get my tire inflated and back in action, but neither worked.  So I calmly took the tire off the rim, put a tube in, and inflated it enough to get me back rolling.  I gathered up my belongings and went the last 5 miles without incident but also without much joy because…well, I had a flat tire and I lost time and placings.  I wanted the race to go to my plan.

But on the walk back to the truck to head home I realized the real story behind my vulnerable moment.  It was 50 degrees and raining.  I didn’t have warm clothes and I was 5 miles from the finish.  And somehow, someway, God gave me the thoughts to process the situation and working fingers to fix a flat.  I didn’t have to walk the last 5 miles, which would have added over an hour to my time.  And when I did actually finish I was still just a wee bit faster than last year.  Looking at the whole picture it was a miracle I was at the race in the first place, a miracle I could fix a flat, and a miracle that I still had a fast finish time.  It could have been so much worse and to only dwell on the flat tire would make me ungracious and whiney. 

A flat tire doesn’t make the whole day a failure; it provides an opportunity to align our response to our beliefs.  If we are to point others to Jesus, lead others to Jesus, or simply represent Jesus, we have to be consistent in our response to these vulnerable moments.  These are the moments people are attracted to and watch, because they are real for all of us!

As it turns out we can’t have it all in our own ways.  But we can have a testimony to God’s provision, protection, and purpose in our lives when we live on the vulnerable side and are ok with it…because God is God and we are not!   Bees may sting and tires might flatten, but we don’t have to throw in the towel when they happen or live in a way that promotes their non-existence.  Those moments are to be shared because we are all susceptible to the vulnerable life, no matter how much we try to squash it or deny it.  We all go through stuff!  Embrace it and line up your response to that vulnerability.  Jesus is the template.  Be vulnerable and be consistent, the world desperately needs to see your example!