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!

Love Through Dragging

It came from the backseat, directly from the mouth of a teenager who had been storing this thought for most likely days, years perhaps.  But it made me chuckle because I know he would have no problem pulling it off as I have given him plenty of content.

“Dad, I think we should start a YouTube series called “Things that my Dad dragged me along to do”, I think we would have a lot of interesting stories! 

The moment this idea was verbalized was also the moment we were in our family truck, literally driving up a ski slope in Colorado.  We were getting bounced around and had spent the last 15 minutes taking up every inch of the high-mountain shelf roads.  He was right; what I deemed as high-altitude and highly-entertaining was also something they had to just go along with and hope for the best.  They were passengers on this family fun train and their Dad was the conductor!

The trip to over 13,000 feet was fun and it did entertain my two boys.  It also took their breathe away as Jan and I made them get out to provide guidance and take photos! 

Someday they will look back on these days and most likely laugh and shake their heads at what their Mom and Dad did, all in the name of making memories and raising boys.  They have lived and experienced a lot in their short lives, and while some of it might seem like it’s not even a choice they usually agree that in the end it was all worth it and they can trust their parents.  You can tell the investment of time and experiences makes a difference.

I can understand the feeling of getting dragged along with my Dad; following His lead in things I don’t understand or don’t want to do.  Not from my earthly Dad, although apples don’t fall far from trees I hear, but following God and His work through me.  Are you feeling that too? 

We’ve made a commitment and we sense a call to live out our faith.  We believe that there is important work and impact to be made on earth but we also have our sights set on heaven.  We know Jesus.  We have experienced the Holy Spirit doing things that cement our faith and direct our steps.  And yet, we know we are passengers on God’s big idea train and sometimes that feels like we are getting dragged along in things that we don’t want to do or going places that really aren’t interesting…at the moment.  We sometimes get caught wanting to see a return in our own ideals.  Following Jesus means accepting that our own concept of time, importance, and needs could look very different than His!  But getting dragged along builds that relationship.

When I “drag” my boys along with some big plan I have to make a few key communication points.  I try to say where we are going, even if it’s generalized.  I have to make sure we have the right things to pull off our trip.  I try to point out the areas or things that might be of special interest to them; make it personal so that my trip is their trip as well.   And then we talk and make the most of the journey; together.   

You and I may be experienced a time where we feel like we are on an adventure against our own wills.  But it’s important to stay with our Father and roll with it…He can be trusted even without knowing the timing or exactly how we are going to get to new place or new season.    Our lives could be a series of stories where we are getting pulled, pushed, and dragged along with our Father.  But the season-finale will piece together all the trips, the trials, and place you (and me) into place where God’s work is our life.   Don’t look at God’s placements and works as boring, a waste of time, or something that has no value for you.  When we are with Him, even in those times of getting dragged along, is a chance to know Him. 

I don’t always understand the circumstances and happenings in my own life, but I do know as a Dad that I love, love, love working out an adventure and creating a story my boys will always remember and be glad they participated in with me.  They are with me and I am with them.  It might seem like there is some dragging going on but eventually they become active participants in the journey.  They now trust because history shows that despite the dragging along there is something special ahead and our relationship deepens.

 It’s time to see beyond the dragging and roll with it.  Trust.  Rely.  Keep communicating with Jesus.  I know He wants to bring you along, not for making your life miserable, but to foster growth and dependence on Him.  He has a plan and place for you and is excited you are along for the ride.  A Father’s love sometimes involves dragging us along!

When a Good Deal Isn’t

Before my wife came to her senses she gave me the go ahead to run off and retrieve a truck camper.  I had found this “beauty” on Craigslist and pitched my idea to her with maybe some slight embellishment of how this was truly a smart idea.  The price was right, the pictures were just blurry enough to hide how sketchy this contraption truly was, the answer from Jan was “Yes” and I was out the door and down the road with my truck and trailer before she had a chance to reconsider.

Classified ads, Facebook marketplace, and Craigslist are full of good finds, bad ideas, and good intentions.   As a guy I see every object on there with potential and my mind races with how I would adjust, modify, or develop my new “cheap” project.  A truck camper was on my list as a must have at one time because I wanted to do a road trip out west with our family…with our little house strapped to the back of our truck.  I looked for months and had all kinds of ideas of what I wanted and how I would develop my little project.

I was pumped when I arrived at the house selling the camper.  It was only $500, which seemed like a steal for a lightweight camper that I could make our own.  But anyone with any brains and experience with classified ads or deals on social media knows that there’s an entry fee and then the actual fee of the additional time and money to make something the way you want it to turn out.  For this to be safe and sanitary enough to sleep in it would require some major cleaning.

The camper looked like it did time hosting a circus.  Not the entertainers…the animals!   Nothing worked as it should inside and it had some grime all around.  Fortunately, it didn’t smell too bad, just old.   But I fell in love at first sight and quickly schemed how I would get this contraption home, because it wasn’t exactly built for my particular truck.  Just another little hurdle to get over for my dream truck camper!

We put the camper on a small trailer, strapped it down, and took as many backroads home as I could.  I arrived home not necessarily to cheering but to laughter and a lot of “oh my gosh, what did we just buy!” comments.  I was not deterred however and made a rolling cart for my new prized possession so I could easily move it around the driveway to work on it as well as show our neighbors the many appealing sides of our “tenement on wheels”.

Over the next few months I had that thing looking like new.  There was new paint, new doors, and a deep cleaning.  Nice laminate floors were installed and some nice rope lighting hung so that we could see. I ripped out everything we didn’t need and made some modifications so we could all sleep at night but haul our gear during the day.  I developed a way to actually load the camper in the truck bed.  I even weighed the whole thing so I knew what effect it would have on our truck.  It was sweet and I was proud.

Once again, I got my sweet wife to go along with a plan and we hauled the camper off for a triathlon.  Jan, our dog Kobe, and I set up camp for one whole night.  We popped it up, slept in it, and gathered all kinds of attention.  After a good night’s sleep and the triathlon, we headed home and I put it back in its home behind the garage.  That’s where it sat until our next big excursion was planned.

And then it burnt to the ground.

We had a garage fire and our little popup camper was one of the first things to go.  As it turns out thin aluminum siding and a wooden framed camper does not repel fire very well.  If you didn’t know the camper was there before the fire you wouldn’t have evidence to prove it after the fire.  It was gone.  Cancelled.  There was nothing left!

One thing we found out dealing with insurance after the fire was that our little camper, and my pride and joy, wasn’t covered under our policy.  It would have required an additional policy.  So while I put a lot of dreaming and energy into that project, I was not entitled to a new replacement popup camper from our insurance company.

Entitled is a funny word.  I had put a ton of thought and effort into something we ultimately got one night’s use from.  It was easy to think that because I put forth effort and created something that was questionably cool that someone else should foot the bill to repay me.  But I didn’t have coverage for that, just the experience and memories.  My perception of what I had insurance on brought a lot of entitlement to my thoughts when they denied paying me for something I valued.   They didn’t seem to care that I took something destined to the landfill and made it look somewhat useful!

Ultimately we did make plans and our family has done many trips…without the Craigslist camper.  To be honest we don’t miss it at all, and we travel pretty efficiently without having a house on the back of the truck. It’s been great even though it certainly didn’t line up the way I planned.

Entitlement creeps in our lives more than we think.  It’s an emotion that’s not only reserved for insurance companies denying sketchy truck camper claims.  Entitlement comes in all different ways, when we produce an effort we expect a certain outcome.  We might hold others to our standard…that they had no idea about or chance to meet!  Entitlement is bending the world to us and our will. 

As time passed by I sulked less about my truck camper and thought more about different ways to travel.  As it turns out our family really enjoys staying in houses and hotels far more than in a dingy truck camper from 1992.  The method to which we travel is different than my initial bright idea but after getting over my entitlement we learned to entrust our dreams.  Entrusting meant that we didn’t see exactly how it was going to happen, we just trusted that things would develop over time and that the desires of our heart, in God’s timing, could still work out.  And if they didn’t work out then God had other plans and that was ok too!

Sometimes it takes some time to get past entitlement and into entrustment.  Entrustment can be painful.  Ugh…the waiting.  The unknown.  The perceived “everything happening is bad”.  Entitlement is like a quick shot of energy that makes us feel better for a second.  Entrustment is the steady burn of God’s presence over a lifetime.

Entitlement versus entrustment.  It’s a daily battle my friend.  Will we trust our future and outcomes to God, or will we beg and plead to get our way for the moment?  I’d encourage you to seek out entrustment.  Let the entitlement burn up and disappear.  You won’t even miss it when God shows you a different way to go.

Are You Thirsty, Bud?

My youngest son is 11 now but when he was 6 we had to have a heart to heart talk about Bud Light.  It might seem a little extreme to have a beer chat with a kid that barely started elementary school but like so much with parenting you sometimes need to react instead of being proactive.

Now I’m pretty sure I never cracked open a cold Bud Light so I can’t list off some adjectives on how it tastes or how it makes me feel.   And given the cultural war that is ongoing with the brand and marketing I’m going to steer clear of that too!  But beer just doesn’t wet my whistle or trip my trigger!  But many people do love their beer have discerning tastes and get into the different types, brands, and brews.   We just don’t happen to have beer in the fridge at our house and so beer is a bit of a foreign substance to our boys.  They didn’t know what they didn’t know when they were smaller.

One hot July we were invited to our neighbors for a picnic and to enjoy their pool.  It was a no brainer with two young boys, a pool, and scorching heat.  We arrived early and were ready to be refreshed by the pool, get to know our neighbors, and hang out.

We were about an hour into the festivities when Sam, our youngest son, came strolling over and asked if he could get a drink.  I saw plenty of bottled water and Gatorades sitting around so I pointed him in the direction of two coolers sitting on the other side of the pool.  Off he went and I went back to chatting with our neighbors.

A few minutes later he returned, empty-handed and with a questioning look.  He got all sheepish and leaned in close to me and went “Daddy, do you think I could have a Bud Light?”.

I laughed at first but he leaned in again to make his case. “It says it’s crisp and refreshing.  I thought that sounded good because it’s so hot.”

He was serious!  And Bud Light was serious too because they made a sales pitch on every can that declared their tasty beverage would be crisp and refreshing.  It didn’t matter if you were a 72-year old grandpa or a 6-year old, a cold can of Bud Light would sound good on a hot day!  And that’s how they rope you, or anyone, to buy more, and more, and more!   The promise is that you will experience something crisp and refreshing, and who doesn’t want that?!

So I told Sam that maybe Bud Light wasn’t a great idea.  Not for a 6-year old who was seeking true refreshment on a hot day.  I got up and the two of us found some age-appropriate and kid-friendly liquid hydration.

Sam was indeed thirsty and sought after a beverage, but his thirst of a relationship with his Dad was greater.  That’s why he asked me for a drink in the first place and when he had more questions about a so-called “crisp and refreshing” beverage he came back and asked again!  Even at 6 years old he had the discernment and discretion to ask for help in selecting something that could help or possibly harm him.

We live in a world of endless opportunities, situations, and outcomes.  Some are good for us, some are not, and some are debatable!  But I admire Sam for not focusing solely on the opportunity of a crisp and refreshing beer or letting his physical thirst persuade him to just try a “cold one”.  Nope.  His thirst to know what to do from his Dad was the biggest thing on his mind!   The thirst of a relationship was bigger than the thirst in his mouth.  That’s why he asked, asked again, and ultimately was shown a different way to go by me!

The thirst of a healthy relationship from a father.  Its life changing when we ask God questions.  When we ask Him to steer us and guide us.  When we ask to be refreshed and renewed.  When we seek Him in the little things and the big things.  Are you thirsty like that?

Maybe you aren’t.  Maybe you have been so thirsty for things that haven’t worked out, haven’t been good, or just made you feel terrible.  Maybe you think you’re worse than others or there’s no way out of the stinky stuff that’s happened.  The things that sound good at first but lead to despair and destruction.  Call it “a crisp and refreshing hangover”!

The good news is that if you do develop that thirst to be with God and seek His will he can use you…and everything else that goes with you!  You see, He uses people, places, things, and emotions to draw us to Him.   There’s no one, nothing, no place, and no feeling that can’t be used for good and for a gift of grace by Him.  Have you made some decision based on it being “crisp and refreshing” only to be left down and out?  Have you gone with a party crowd that was anything other than “good neighbors”?  Have you developed a dependency on things that have more control over you than you’d like?  None of us are perfect and can relate to putting our thirst on things that make sense to us but are not in line with Him.

Stay thirsty my friends.  Not for the things of the world, the promises of others, or the momentary happiness of a fleeting feeling.  Stay thirsty for a relationship with your Heavenly Father.  He is the Living Water that is most certainly crisp and refreshing, both now and for eternity!

Rubik’s Cube Life

It wasn’t until the machine was an inch from my nose when I thought I should ask what was really going to happen.  You would think that as I took my position laying down on the table and settled in with a pillow behind my neck that I would have been told what to expect, but no, I went along with everything thinking that this was just a simple scan of my body to find out the results of my radiation therapy.

It wasn’t until I was shoved into the machine, a board lowered to my nose, and I was told to “just lay still for 30 minutes” when I thought it would be a really, really good idea to ask what was going to happen.

I might have panicked but mainly I wanted to have a slight clue what was going on, especially when I couldn’t move a muscle for 30 minutes.  That never happens.  Never.  Josh never sits still!  So when I mumbled “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are we actually doing here?” the nurse kinda chuckled and pulled me back out where she could explain the torture before repeating the process.

I settled back in and kept my eyes close this time and passed the 30 minutes without issue.  I have learned in this season of my life to just keep rolling with it..whatever “it” is! 

A few minutes later my scan results were printed and handed over to the doctor.  She eyed them over, far less than 30 minutes, and happily reported that I had no signs of cancer.  My surgery, radiation, and lots of prayers had guided me to this point where I could say I’m cancer free.  Yay!  What a relief and I’m happy to turn the page and check this off of my life experiences.

I walked out of the office and climbed into my Jeep.  In the backseat I spotted one of the boys’ Rubik’s cubes, which isn’t an unusual sight.  It’s a bit of a rule that you can have a little bit of screen time when we travel, but it’s far better to watch the world go by, read a book, or play a game.  So our boys have a sense of direction because they see the sights, but you can often hear the plasticky clicking of cubes being manipulated and shifted around in hopes of getting the sides to line up in a solid color.  But on this day the Rubik’s cube wasn’t an object to pass the time, it was there to teach a lesson!

The sight of a Rubik’s cube brought an instant comparison to life over the last few weeks, months, and years.  Have you felt like your life was constantly being shifted, aligned, and changed?  I sure do!  Walking out of the doctor’s office with a clean bill of health felt like a block on a Rubik’s cube being clicked into a new place.  It was a good thing!  But I’ve also felt like some shifts and movements were monumental and they put me in places I didn’t want to be for timeframes I wasn’t sure of the duration.  Life as a Rubik’s cube is constant shifting and changing.

Rubik’s cubes can also be extremely frustrating.  If the idea is to match colors on all sides is not exactly easy.  So I asked the boys how you would cheat at Rubik’s cube.  They answered that you could pull the stickers off and reorient them.  Or you could pull a corner piece out and rotate it so that it aligns with what you want.  Once you get all of the colors lined up you can dump some super glue in there and make sure that the thing never changes for any reason!

You could choose to live life that way as well.  Instead of being shifted and changed in the hands of someone that has a plan you could simply take matters into your own hands and play the game on your own terms.  You can be in the game or play the game…it’s your choice!  Some choose this approach as the way to live life because life is always on their terms.  You can change blocks, pull off stickers, and make things the way they should be…and then dig in and put some super glue in there to keep things as controlled as possible!

That’s the difference between being in the game and playing the game.  There’s a willingness and vulnerability to letting things shift and change.  Not all of it is good at the time.  Some of it just plain stinks…and there can be an extended season of the stinkiness!  Maybe it’s difficult to see how one move will lead to a better move later on.  And rarely does one move do it; there are many small moves that lead to the Promised Land. 

There is a desire to just “get to the end already!” too…if God is moving pieces why can’t he just make one mega-move and get things right; right now!  Rubik’s cube life is an exercise in patience, perseverance, and eventually peace in, and despite, the shifting and changing.

It’s hard to be in the game and not resort to playing the game.  I get it.  But I do think there is some sweet longevity and gentle goodness to being in the Rubik’s cube game of life rather than playing the game on our own terms.  The pieces may twist and turn, but the One that holds us will, and can, do so much more with our life than we ever could on our own. 

I wasn’t thrilled when I was stuffed into a machine with zero headroom without explanation.  But it was another click in the in the life of Rubik’s cube-life.  Whatever you face today, whatever moves are made, don’t give up your place in the game!

72-Hour Investors

We’re all good at something.  At times I have questions to what is “my thing”; perhaps you do too.  But all of us have gifts and talents that make us stand above the crowd.  You can be an exceptional lawyer, a stand-out stay at home mom, or a small-business magician.  The point is that there are places we all excel.

It was a surprise and a compliment, I think, to hear that I am good at one particular thing.  There’s one circumstance that apparently “I’m the guy” for.  I had no idea but when my friend Ray was explaining how he name drops me in a conversation with others he starts out with “If I only had 72 hours left to live, I’d want Josh to hang out with me.”.  So now I know that I’m the guy you want if you are close to the end! 

At first, I thought it was a compliment because I’d try to cram in as much good content in 72 hours.  I’d want those 72 hours to be quality.  Listen, talk, pray and make them feel better about their life and where they are going.  But then I thought if someone was in a lot of pain and had 72 hours to live that maybe I was the guy that would make the inevitable end come faster!  Maybe I’m more Grim Reaper than Good Samaritan!   I did see his intent though and I thought it was so kind to be viewed as someone that would be there for someone in their time of need or to have a gentle landing at the end of life. 

I was pondering this conversation while driving home from New Jersey, which is also an experience that is close to death.  But I was having a lot of chuckles thinking about how I could advertise my newfound gift.  “Is time running out?  Give Josh a shout!”.  Or “The end is near when Josh appears!”. 

The boys and I were in the truck and while I entertained myself with my wit and comedy I couldn’t help but notice all of the traffic in the opposing lanes.  We were on two lane roads that avoided the highway and cars were STACKED, bumper to bumper, for miles.  I never saw so many hands and middle fingers as tempers flared and a general edginess encompassed that east-bound lane.  I was headed the other way but I could relate to the frustration of being stuck in traffic.

Among my 72-Hours of Power with Josh business ideas I thought of those poor drivers stuck in traffic.  It was a Thursday night and they were all heading to the beach for 3 days, 72 hours, of relaxation and restoration.  The beach was there to bring solitude, joy, happiness, and the good life.  All they had to do was endure the pain of waiting with other irate drivers!  But once there they would have their 3-day weekend to get recharged, gain some clarity, and prepare for the rest of whatever life has in store.

So there I was, heading in one direction thinking about the possibility of helping others while another direction presented the promise of health and relaxation for people that craved it.   Both situations were 72-hour investments; my hypothetical 3-days with a dying friend situation and the 3-day long beach weekend in New Jersey.  We’ve all been on both sides of that road; called into action to help others or craving a long weekend of “me time” to be topped off and filled up.  We all do both and need both.  But how do we decide which way to go with our 72-hour investment?

Not long after surviving New Jersey traffic I found myself walking down the hallway of a medical lab.  I followed a nurse who asked me if I was ready.  In my mind I was but the whole experience was getting more real.  What I was about to do was willingly take a radioactive pill that would kill any remaining cancer cells that were left behind after a surgery I had several months ago.  It would be the end to this chapter and hopefully a new chapter would begin, just cancer free this time.  So while the end goal was very appealing I had to willingly take a pill that would cause me to be isolated for 3 days.  Apparently, the pill is so toxic that I had to go away from everyone for 3 solid days and then restrict myself as best I could for 2 more days.  Only after this time could I reappear and start the new thing and new life that awaits me.

I walked into the room and took a seat.  The nurse walked back into a room and reappeared with a stainless-steel egg-looking contraption with giant orange stickers reading “biohazard” and “radioactive”.   Any other time it would be a good idea to walk, or run, away from something that looked so…toxic.  Its stickers screamed “death” but yet here I was, fully expected to pop the top, crack open the lid to a glass jar, and swallow the radioactive pill with a big gulp of water.

Once I heard the instructions I did just that.  I didn’t feel different but when the nurse waved a wand over my body with her Geiger counter and said, “Yep, you are radioactive.” I was whisked away to the back door, told to isolate for 3 days and have the best of luck.  That was the sendoff! 

Seventy-two hours is the theme here.  What would you do to serve and help a friend in their last 72 hours?  How would you be restored and find relaxation on a 3-day weekend?  I don’t think it was an accident that I found the answer in the middle of my 3-day isolation after taking a toxic pill!

Jesus knew the importance of serving others.  He also knew the importance of solitude and the restoration process.  He was also a 72-hour investor.  He willingly took the cross, the bad thing, the sign of a certain horrible death, and died on it for our sins.  His offering of forgiveness became apparent to all after 3 days…it wasn’t the end of the story but rather the beginning! 

When you experience God’s grace it will transform your life.  Your way of thinking.  Your service to others will be vibrant and meaningful.  Your days of solitude and recharging will soak-in to a new level.  We want to invest our 72 hours well and whether it’s in service or in solitude I believe receiving the gift of Jesus’ 72-hour investment is a game changer. 

We are called to do both; to serve and to experience rest.  Putting the gift of Jesus’ 72-hour investment into our center of attention is the way to experience both!

Adjusting our Audio

A Lawyer, a Senior Logistician, Educator, and a Josh walked into a conference room.  This might sound like the beginning of a really poor, eye-rolling joke but it was a true story!  Somehow, someway, the four of us walked into a conference room and kicked things off with some small talk. 

Soon we found a small topic that everyone had a curiosity with; music.  Everyone likes and can appreciate music; it doesn’t mean we enjoy the same styles but there is a tune for every set of ears out there.  When I brought up my logistics friend fondness for audio equipment the lawyer eagerly asked a question he had not had an answer to in previous conversations.   He needed to settle the debate that has stirred many an argument.   “Do vinyl records really sound better than compact discs or digital files?”

Vinyl records have become popular because they sound different.  People love the sound and deem it better because a record player is so wildly different and antiquated to the digital age we live in currently.  Call it nostalgia or call it retro but there is indeed a certain audible difference when a needle moves across vinyl compared to a digital track played on the same audio system.  Some say vinly is superior, others say digital is the best.  I’m not an expert by any means but it seems like the vinyl versus digital debate creates conflict among audio people!

The answer I heard was awesome.  My logistician friend sat back and explained why focusing on vinyl, cds, or digital files is to focus on the wrong thing.  Vinyl is indeed all the rage and is popular but it doesn’t mean it’s superior.  He went on to explain that the two most important parts of recorded music are the original recording and the device that plays it back.  The in-between, the medium, isn’t as important as those two things.  The methods of how we might play music will change, and have changed over time, but a fantastic, quality, original recording and a robust audio system will pull out the best sounds of musicians and singers.  Those are the two difference makers.

To get the best play back of an original piece of music you need an audio system that can promote and expand the variety of sounds in intricate detail.  Many times the sounds heard on vinyl are different than others sources is because the tunes are being played through the same audio system without any adaptation or modifications.  Different mediums require different tuning to get the most out of music.  To simply say vinyl or digital is superior is shortsighted.  What’s important is the adjustability and capacity of the playback device.

That answer struck a note with me (get it?!).  And once I saw my friends’ audio system it made sense.  An audio system can be basic and will get some of the original sound out or it can be complex with woofers, tweeters, amplifiers, equalizers, and skilled hands to adjust and tweak settings so that every recording sounds like it’s live and directly in front of you.  THIS is how the original recording comes to life no matter what the medium may be.  There are general audio systems and then there is a whole other level of audio systems that promote sounds you didn’t know even existed!  It’s a whole other level of adjustment and the results speak (or sing!) for themselves.  When I experienced the sounds coming from my friends home audio system my ears filled with instruments and voices I didn’t know existed.   The playback through a properly adjusted, custom system is as close to the original recording and musician as you can get.

As I thought about the argument between vinyl and digital music it made me think of life, following Jesus, and playing a tune that resonates with others.  God speaks to us as our creator.  He’s the original artist!  We hear from him through the Holy Spirit, scripture, other believers or circumstances.  Those “God Moments” present a recording, a way to live life with others on earth and do God’s will.  But in order to do that we need to adjust ourselves or be adjusted.  We need to be tunable just like a fancy audio system in order to play the original recording well.  If we don’t move or adjust we’ll just play part of the song and most likely get stuck debating issues and topics that have more of our thoughts and less of God’s heart.

My friend was adamant that the original artists and their recording was the basis for an amazing sound.  And the investment in high-quality, adjustable audio was perfect for a playback of that artist.   Debating vinyl versus digital seemed kinda silly when both could be enjoyed when played on an adjusted audio system.  Doesn’t that sound familiar these days?  There’s a Creator and we are the Playbacks but all we seem to focus on is the debates in the middle and deem one side right and the other side wrong! 

God doesn’t change.  His love for us doesn’t change, even if you don’t know Him at this time.  We shouldn’t adjust God to meet the times but we should allow adjustment to us to bring God to the ever changing times.  God has developed the music; you and I get to play it back.  And many times we end up groveling and arguing about things that make God’s recordings sound terrible.  Gods message to humanity requires our daily adjustment to Him.  There’s some sweet music to be played when we are in perfect tune with our Creator.

Play it back friend.  Look, listen, and adjust your life accordingly.  There will always be the in-between mediums and topics that call for God’s grace and love, it’s up to us to press-in, listen intently, adjust our hearts, and pump out some God-driven tunes. 

Free with a Catch

Passing time can be a skill set in the right circumstances.  Let’s say you are a parent on a long drive and you hear the dreaded “How much longer?” from the backseat.  If the answer is “several hundred miles” then you better have a solid way of passing time.  I enter dad jokes into the conversation.  I may give up control of the radio and suffer through some country music.  You may have your own ways to pass the time, but the short story is it’s crucial to be able to shrink the time between the start and the end into meaningful, worthwhile, and productive seconds.

Recently I watched a minor league baseball game with my family.  It was supposed to be baseball, but I was amazed at the activities happening between the innings.  Games, contests, and all kinds of activities were squeezed into the minutes.  It really was like a variety show with baseball thrown in for good measure.  Passing the time of the fans was someone’s job and they did it very well.  I always remembered the time between innings as kinda blah, with maybe some John Fogerty “Centerfield” blasting through the speakers. Baseball was actually the most boring part of the entertainment that evening!

Around that same time our oldest son, Levi, was deep in thought for an activity at school.  The activity was a day built around passing time and hopefully creating school spirit, affectionately known as “Anything But a Backpack Day”.   This day was scheduled near the end of the school year, when all the tests were taken, the grades finalized, and the calendar still showed days of school attendance were needed.

Anything But a Backpack Day was an invitation for the students to select something, anything, to cart around their belongings for the day.  Their laptop, books, school ID, pencils and whatever else they needed to carry would have to fit in the new non-backpack.  The whole thing is pretty silly and unusual, but if you are willing to take the plunge and find or create something new it can bring a lot of joy and fun to the otherwise boring last days of school.  It’s passing time and giving everyone that participates a way to carry their things in a unique way.

Last year Levi took a lawn fertilizer.  Not a bad first effort and it was pretty easy to wheel down the hall.  It was relatively small and nimble and did the job.  He was eager to accept the invitation to carry anything but his regular backpack again this year and spent a few weeks scheming and thinking of potential ideas.  He was passing time thinking about passing time!

Many ideas were just too difficult to pull off or just didn’t have the right feel to them; a 55-gallon drum, a shop-vac, and a larger lawn fertilizer were all on his short list.  As his dad I had to sift through the ideas and help him decide what was doable and what was a poor idea.  If you know me well you might think that Levi didn’t actually have “help” with deciding what was a good or bad idea; Fortunately Jan chimed in with her analysis and since she teaches at the same school her thoughts held way more weight than mine!  The ideas went on for a few weeks until we were two days out and without a good idea. 

One evening I had to run into town for a few things and asked Levi to ride along. 

As we rolled down a straight section of road our stares turned to a shiny object sitting at the end of a neighbor’s driveway.  It was evening but this beautiful object reflected light like a beacon in the night and caused us to slow down and stare.

Where I live an object sitting at the end of a driveway usually means a few things; it’s free, it’s junk, or it’s free junk!  I asked Levi if he saw a sign on this beautiful piece and when he said emphatically “It’s free!” I stepped on the brakes and threw the truck into reverse.

I slung the truck into the driveway and hopped out and made my analysis in 3 seconds.  When it comes to taking free things it’s best to move fast in case someone actually sees you taking free things.  This gas grill was a real beauty and when I rolled it up to the tailgate I had to bark at Levi to help load our new find into the back.  He was stuck between being embarrassed at his dad hauling away junk and the excitement that this could be his new “backpack” for school!

The whole thing fit like a glove in the truck bed and we pulled away; I had a big grin on my face, Levi had a laugh but also slouched in his seat so that no one would see him.  With an invitation to do anything but a backpack you will have to get used to doing things a bit differently.  Sometimes it’s embarrassing, sometimes it’s a joy. 

When the big day arrived, Levi rolled his grill into the school and proceeded to shimmy and shake it down the hallways all day with his school items safely stowed away.  Others loved it and it turned out great with all of its room for school stuff.  Hopefully some more kids will jump in next year when they saw how following through on the invitation could be.  Best of all it was free! 

Not everyone participated in “Anything But a Backpack Day”.  In fact, Levi said less than half accepted the invitation to pass the time with something fun and quirky.   Making an effort to do something different kinda puts yourself out there; it makes you vulnerable and open.  It’s unconventional.  It’s a weird way to pass the time, especially in this day and age where you can hide with other ways of passing time, like watching a screen and tuning out the world around us.  Passing time with meaning is not just a skill, it’s an invitation.

Anything But a Backpack Day might be my favorite day of my son’s school year.  Not because it’s a chance for me to think with my son and potentially embarrass him by snagging junk from alongside the road, but because I love the concept of an invitation to pass the time in a way that’s unique and personal.  I love that kids get to choose the way they carry their stuff. It takes an otherwise seemingly boring day and allows kids to create life, amusement, and ingenuity.  But not everyone will see it that way and let the opportunity come and go without giving it a second thought.  But every year the invitation is there to pass the time using something different than the standard old backpack.

I believe that God extends an invitation to all of us.  It’s a faith-filled “Anything but a backpack” that lies between innings.  It’s a chance to spend the time between birth and death doing something meaningful with Him. He wants to help you pass your time with meaning and it might just be a little different, a little out there, a little bit of a stretch, or a little out of the ordinary.   He’s asking you to not go with the flow and the normalized.  The world offers complacency, God offers a challenge to live Christ-like.  The world wants conformity; God wants your heart.  The world wants standards, Jesus shares a path to salvation through His sacrifice.  Passing time takes on a whole other level when we accept God’s invitation to join Him.

 Just like a random gas grill sitting at the end of a driveway, this invitation is free to anyone willing to stop and take it!  Some will sit on the sidelines and just wait for the next inning to start.  Others will know that this idle time could be filled with good content.   Some will hear an invitation but have won’t be willing to carry the message in a way that’s odd, different, or costly to their selves.  And finally there will be some that go big and take the free invitation and go with it.  I think we can all relate to the different responses…I just hope we all get to the point where we join God in what He is doing even if we have to carry anything but the regular backpack.

Hauling Heavy

My dad made it home for a few minutes when his phone rang.  Given the situation we had all lived through over the last 6 days I thought it was the hospital, a doctor, or some other medical facility.  We had just endured a roller coaster experience as my dad went through internal bleeding, heart stoppage, and numerous procedures to patch his body back together.  Miracles occurred and he eventually was discharged and we brought him home for the next phase of life, which is a tough road of rehabilitation, rest, and restoration.  And phone calls.

This phone call was not a doctor but rather the tree service my Dad had talked to a few weeks ago.  Their schedule just opened up and they moved my parents’ job to the front of the list.  Taking trees down was at the bottom of my Dad’s list with his conditions but we decided I would be the substitute “Bill Beck” and hang around while 3 Walnut trees were removed.  He could continue to rest and recover among the sounds of chainsaws and chippers!

So at the end of a very heavy, very emotional week, and on my Dad’s first day home from the hospital I found myself watching limbs fall and trunks drop in the yard.  I jumped in and cut up some branches that I could add to my firewood pile.  But the big stuff…that seemed far too nice to just cut up and burn.  I decided to keep those intact and haul them off to a sawmill.

There are several sawmills reasonably close by but the one that was open on a Friday afternoon was 10 miles away.   I had other errands to run that were somewhat close to the mill so I found myself dragging my dead trees around the countryside, crossing things off my to-do list in an effort to be productive while hauling heavy.    Eventually I swung into the sawmill just before closing time.

I had several thousand pounds of dead trees in my trailer and for an afternoon all it did was drain my gas tank and slow my travels down.  But at a sawmill these dead trees have some value.  And my hope was that their value meant getting them off my trailer!   My new friend that runs the mill came out from behind stacks of cut lumber with a yard stick and immediately started measuring the logs, eyeing them up, and eventually came to a number of their value and worth.  I don’t know what all he calculated in his mind but each log was scrutinized and studied before he gave me a number.  More importantly he said he would take them. 

I had no real need for 5 logs.  I specifically came to this place (albeit in a roundabout way) to get rid of them. They had value in the hands of the right person but that was not me.  I carried them for a bit but I was also happy to see them go.  I backed my truck and trailer next to the loader that would pluck the logs off one by one.  

The unloading zone looked a bit like a wasteland.  It was dirty.  Gritty.  Tree bark covered the ground.  It looked like the kind of place where dead trees were unloaded but not without a fight.  I didn’t want to get a flat tire running over parts of dead trees. 

The loader grabbed the logs one by one and tossed them in a pile off to the side of my trailer.  It was almost comical how easy the grapple attachment would squeeze something that was hundreds of pounds and toss it like a toothpick.  But as the machine flicked the logs off the trailer I stood in awe of the giant stack of logs looming next to my truck.  It was monstrous.  It was an enormous stack of dead trees that were all unloaded from countless trucks and trailers.  By my quick count I thought there were 600 former trees just stacked up, ready to be sawed and repurposed.  It was quite a site because I knew there was no way any man stacked those logs.  That loader took all the logs and neatly stacked them high and long.

And in that moment I could probably place a worry, a concern, or a “what’s wrong” on each of those dead trees.  My family had endured a lot in the last week.  In the last year.  In the last few years.  The stack of dead trees could easily be my stack of ughs.  Life was heavy.  Life was hard.  Life’s difficulties were numerous.  It would be easy to make a stack of sorrows that mimicked the size and scope of that log pile. 

But just that quick I heard “give it to me”.  Just like I heard the man at the sawmill tell me he would take the logs on my trailer; All I had to do let him unload them.  Give it to HIM.  All of it.  I don’t need to hold all of the ughs and try to manhandle them in a stack of sorrys myself.  We aren’t designed to do that.  We have an invitation to back up next to do God’s loader and let him take the weight.  It’s where grace and grit intersect.   I don’t have to carry this by myself. 

I stood and stared at the stack of logs and I knew that God used some dead trees in what seemed like bad timing to show me that He knows the pain of the moment.  The pain of the season.  And he’s offering to take it all.  He’ll take it all and stack it.  He’ll stack it like the loader that grabbed those hundreds of logs off of the many trucks that backed into the grit and grime to have their loads lightened.  And someday I will stand in awe at the adversity that God has guided me though.  Not by my own strength, but by my willingness to back up and let Him unload my heavy, heavy, weight.  He will do something with me and my circumstances.  They won’t define me when I let them go.   My faith is proportional to the stack of stuff I hand over to God. 

Give it to me He says…

Stitches or Duct Tape?

No matter what, I was going to suffer.  Suffering was part of the agenda for the day, whether I wanted it or not!  It started when a screwdriver stopped screwing and started stabbing.  My thumb served as the victim and I had a nasty, big, gash that I thought I could manage with some creative taping.  I gave it my best shot but after 12 hours of working, coaching a track meet, and countless adjustments of my method I gave up and waltzed into an urgent care for some professional help.

At first the Physician Assistant looked at me and thought I used duct tape to try to stop the suffering.  I didn’t, but I did admit that thought did cross my mind!  Duct tape does do some amazing things after all.  I then showed her my duct tape wallet, which is a great way to promote financial suffering.  People always feel bad for me when I take out my wallet that is ENTIRELY made of duct tape. 

She took a look and confirmed that I was crazy for thinking I could get it to heal without some extra help, i.e. stitches.  She then devised a plan that would end my suffering.  My suffering would end after 12 hours of avoiding the one place that could have probably helped more efficiently than my 3 rolls of tape and my adhesive ingenuity.  My tape, or even duct tape for that matter, was not going to do anything other than cover up the mess.  They would clean the wound a bit more, give me two shots of a numbing agent, and then finally stitch me up with 4 stitches and I would walk out well on my way to hand healing.  Easy peasy!

After the cleaning I endured the two shots that were to numb my hand.  I won’t lie, they were painful and when they say “a little prick” it felt more like a “long needle will be placed in your hand for an unusually long time”. More suffering.  Whether it was the location on my thumb or the sight of a needle repeatedly jabbing my hand like the giant screwdriver did in the morning, I was not a fan. 

They were so optimistic that the stitches would go well after my numbing.  And I was following their lead and actually believing that I wouldn’t feel a thing.  But I did.  I felt it all.  The needle prick.  The stitches being pulled through and tied off.  Suffering.

I was feeling the weight of the stitches without any of the effects of the numbing agent.  Apparently, my doctor noticed as well and offered to give me an additional couple of shots to make the pain go away.  I declined because I felt like I could hang on a little while longer without having more holes put in my hand.  I just needed to suffer a little bit longer…

Suffering a bit longer.  Doesn’t sound like fun does it?  And yet I remembered those exact words from the Bible.  The Bible!  It’s in 1 Peter 5:10 and says that “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have SUFFERED A LITTLE WHILE, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast.”  Well, It’s right there; we are called to a relationship with God through Jesus and yet we will suffer “a little while” before moving on to the restoration and strengthening.  Wow.  It’s like needles and stitches pulling skin together so that eventually there will be a strong bond.  But first there will be some suffering.  There’s going to be some wounds to heal. 

It makes you wonder if we often view faith in the wrong light.  We may think of faith as a way to avoid suffering.  Or we may avoid God all together because why would he let us suffer so much? 

Jesus knows a thing or two about suffering.

Suffering is part of life on earth, it’s part of the human experience and not just saved for some dummies with screwdrivers.  Suffering comes in all kinds of forms and functions.  I happen to be an expert at physical suffering as I have a long history of competing in long distance running and cycling events.  The suffering there has a reward in the form of a finish line or personal record time.

We can suffer emotionally and mentally as well.  Our hearts can just grow cold and weary by the weight of the world or we can struggle to believe that something will turn for the good.

When it comes to suffering in any of these areas, we want it to be over.  We also want the gains from enduring “a little while”.

Truth be told I think that faith is shared when others see you suffer a little while.  It stinks to say that, but the world understands suffering.  And when we trust, endure, and let God strengthen our wounds then we will be strong, firm, and steadfast.  That’s a testimony.  A story.  Encouragement for the lost, the desperate, and the doubting.

The doctor finished the 4 stitches and I survived my “little while” of suffering.  My gash was reduced to a slight sliver, with the stitches pulling the skin together so that my thumb would eventually heal.  It will most likely have a legit scar as well, which will serve as a reminder of the time I endured some discomfort but ended up healed and healthy.

Are you suffering a “little while” now?  Don’t give up.  Don’t give up on the season that God has you in and what it might become.  Don’t give up on God.  Don’t give up on your gifts, talents, and possibilities due to a little suffering.  The battle isn’t yours to fight alone but you have to stay on the battlefield.  The timing is unknown but the growth will be worth it all.  The stitches are being pulled and there’s healing ahead.  There’s not a thing on earth that is superior to a faith that is being forged in the suffering. 

Covering with duct tape is nothing compared to the strength of suffering with stitches.  Hang in there a little while longer friend.