A Merciful Pathway

“Those who believe in Jesus Christ and are justified by faith and become the children of God are not taken out of this world of woe, but are given the grace to experience the very judgments of God on the human race as the merciful pathway to holiness and heaven rather than sin and hell.”---John Piper

One doesn’t have to look farther than the recent earthquake in China (188 dead, 11,000 injured at last count) to confirm that we live in a world of woe. The sane reaction is to groan, to pray and to give if possible to relief. The other reaction is of course to ignore it and go on living. How we react to tragedy mirrors what is going on inside of us and which highway we are on.

On a smaller scale we deal with those around us that wrestle with significant physical suffering. Certainly we can not understand all the components of the suffering nor fully identify with the ones that suffer. Our challenge is to give of ourselves in ways that feel like death to us that others may live life a little more.

In our day to day dealings with the manifestations of fallenness in others and the brokenness of daily living choosing right responses is incumbent upon us as children of light. There will be many that will take the easy way and respond in kind to unkindness or throw up fist or finger when their cheek is slapped. Travelers on the road to holiness and heaven call on heaven’s strength to respond differently.

The world is a place of woe which we see manifest in so many forms. The saving grace is to remember that we are citizens of heaven. Holiness of heart and character are our goal. Knowing which path we are on will help us know how our heart and hands will respond to this groaning broken place we currently call home.

Timeline 5th Grade

Our life is like a good puzzle---if we examine it close enough we will see all the connections and how they fit together. Yesterday I began charting my life on a timeline where the crisis (A crucial or decisive point or situation; a turning point) are delineated. Thus my brain has been working on the problem overnight and this morning I had an epiphany. 5th grade was a key point in my life.


In Mr. Warner’s class I sat across from Sam and Gary. Both of them were in Boy Scouts. As I remember it they regaled me week after week with stories about hikes they took and adventures they had. It wasn’t long before I went home and asked my mom if I could join Boy Scouts with them. That journey would take me through high school and change the way I saw the world.

Mr. Lence pushed all of us toward leadership. This meant learning to speak publicly and to organize other scouts in activities and plan weekend camp-outs. I still remember him instructing us that when teaching or speaking one has to, “paint the cat black,” that is, to delineate the lessons clearly and visibly. Thus began my move up the ranks; leading meetings, planning camp-outs, making menus and motivating my fellow scouts to obey and chip-in as a team; a great experience for a shy, scared boy with low self-esteem. My character rounded there was one other place that Scouting got a hold of me. I went from crush and infatuation to a full on love for the outdoors.

Scouting took me around Catalina in canoe and down the Colorado by the same means; it took me through many canyons and up many peaks in the Sierra as well as into wilderness areas as far as Montana. I learned to carry a backpack and eat whatever was placed in front of me. Most of all I grew to enjoy and feel comfortable with myself in the outdoors.

Flash back to Mr. Warners’ class. Do you remember picking teams for sports in 5th grade? I was usually the last one picked as I was small with asthma and hardly the athletic type (though I made up for this lack of comfort at school on Boy Scout backpacking trips). One day I got talking to the other kid that nobody picked. His name was Keith. We grew to be close friends, then I grew close to his brother and his brothers’ circle of friends. Keith and I don’t talk much anymore but his brother Kevin and Kevins’ friend John were groomsmen in my wedding.

Forty years later and connections made in my 5th grade year still have a deep and rich affect on my life today. The friends I made then influence me today and rippled through my high school and college years into wider circles of friends and adventures emanating from those connections. In the same way those initial steps into Scouting were steps into manhood though it took me years to see it. Even as my love for the outdoors is richly embroidered into who I am so too those 5th grade experiences forever changed my life.

The Timeline: Childhood Asthma, a Looking Glass, and The Girls Next Door

Here’s the assignment for tonight: Draw a timeline of your life highlighting the crisis events that culminated in who you are today (H/t Donald Miller and his Storyline Blog). It’s a bit daunting isn’t it? How do you know what’s important? The other concern: Are you going to highlight only the good stuff? The bad stuff? The other thought is that it’s different if you create it to share or if you do it in the privacy of your own living room---because some of those crisis points are exceedingly personal (mine are anyway). For tonight I will pick three. Perhaps I will add to my timeline in an additional post.


My childhood asthma was so severe that I rocked myself to sleep to escape the pain and fear. I would rock so violently that I would move my bed across the room. I was rushed to the emergency room six times. The asthma attacks were anxiety producing and painful. I believe that those times produced in me mental and physical perseverance (among other traits). Asthma goes on the timeline.

My neighbor had a magnifying glass that folded into a smooth leather pouch. The glass was enclosed in a ring of brass. It was beautiful, practical and fun for burning things. My neighbor left it out one day and I stole it. This was my first realization that I could do evil. That realization was foundational in recognizing that I was a sinner. The magnifying glass goes on the timeline.

The boy with the magnifying glass moved away and a family full of girls moved into the house next door. They were teenagers while my sister and I were in kindergarten and first grade. Thus they came over to watch us when mom was busy. Somehow they also had a hand in teaching us to swim which largely meant being thrown into the deep end of the pool. It was a horrible experience. Somehow it took. I grew to love swimming in water of any kind. I’ll add learning to swim.

I’ve worked my way all the way up to the age of six. I’m out of breath. I’ll focus in on additional events in a later post. Sink or swim I’ll continue adding to the timeline next time.

People: Different and Wonderfully Unique

We are different. We forget this all the time. We don’t fit in. This should be normative operating information for us. I noticed it again when somebody asked me for directions to the highway. I assumed they were going to visit the national park. No. They were going to Las Vegas for the weekend. The choice to visit a city to throw money away, drink, smoke cigarettes and see a show is low on my list. I know it’s not wrong. It’s just not how we are wired.


Most folks go along with the crowd. They don’t make waves at work. They only have an opinion if it’s the same opinion that’s popular today. The ideal is to settle into a happy medium in everything. Don’t stir the pot. That seems the easier way. Certainly makes you more popular overall.

Then there’s the fifteen percent. You know, fifteen percent of people do 100 percent of the work. We push in our public lives and we push in our private lives. We set goals. We shoot to raise the bar not meet it. We struggle with not fitting in and we struggle to deal with the other 85 percent.

We wrestle with our own restlessness and our own standards. We wonder if we are normal to do this. Seems like we’re not. Seems that’s the balance though. To be pushing to be better but not be driven to be better; to allow for peace; to enjoy the gifts that come our way.

I’m processing those differences while realizing at the same time that each of us is wonderfully unique. Perhaps it’s as simple as making that uniqueness our own comfortably space to dwell in. Perhaps it’s all about being secure and significant. God created us uniquely and in Him we find that significance. That’s where I’ll rest today.

The Biblical Principle Of Holy War

These were the nations the Lord permitted to remain so he could use them to test Israel—he wanted to test all those who had not experienced battle against the Canaanites.He left those nations simply because he wanted to teach the subsequent generations of Israelites, who had not experienced the earlier battles, how to conduct holy war.---Judges 3:1,2 NEV

Why would God put you into a situation where you had to fight your way out or succumb to failure? That God would do this grates against the perception of what is right and wrong or fair and unfair. We want God to take away all of the tough issues we encounter. The biblical principle is that He allows these trials so that we learn to fight the holy fight.

I don’t like to pray. It’s not because I don’t enjoy talking to God. I fight against dependence on God. Though it’s obvious that most everything is out of my control I still cling to this false belief that I am master of my fate. So this year God is allowing a number of issues to occur to force the issue. I’ve had car issues and financial issues, personnel issues at work and issues with my family. In each situation there is little that I can control. The only wise choice is to pray to Him who controls everything. In the process my prayer muscles are growing stronger. I am learning to connect with God at a deeper level.

Hebrews puts it this way, “But solid food is for the mature, who because of practice have their senses trained to discern good and evil.” There is a principle of practice here. Through practice we train our mind. In talking of King David’s military prowess it is said that through practice his arms were strengthened to bend the bow. It is in pushing against tension that muscles, whether mental or physical, are trained for battle.

While difficulties are distressing there is an attitude of joy that can also accompany them. For while we are struggling we are being trained for bigger battles. Do we obey and trust our commander in chief or do we trip and fall headlong? God has left these obstacles in our path that we might be taught war.

Punctured Tires and Bad Turns

Journal entry for April 16---Tuesday.


Day off tomorrow—Need it. Need to get out on the bike. Maybe go to Joshua Tree and climb. That way the wind won’t matter much.

Darling daughter over tonight. The wife came home from work concerned about her tire being low. As we were going out for dinner we stopped by the gas station to put air into it. Then I found the nail! It’s in the middle of the tire though so patching should be no problem.

Off to the tire store to see about a patch. Nope they can’t patch it since the tread is low. So we price new tires. We will switch cars and I will take the car in tomorrow. There goes training in Joshua Tree. (Note to the wife: I’ll do it on Friday). Off to the restaurant to eat dinner.

The restaurant has a sign up that says, “Cash Only-computer down.” So we decide to go get cash and comeback. Leaving the bank the highway is crowded so we turn the opposite direction from the restaurant. “No U-Turns” so we make another turn. Finally get to our dinner destination.

Chilly-Willys is out of Cod. The wife, a lover of fish-n-chips, is disappointed. We get the fish n chips with some other fish in it that the waitress recommends. We head back home and catch up on The Amazing Race. The wife is drop dead tired and heads off to bed. Darling Dot and I watch another show then she’s off to bed. Time to blog.

Some days are just like that full of punctured tires and bad turns. Cold and windy outside now. Looking like it may be a day to get on the Trainer. Time to crash. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Boston

“No! Oh my God not again,” is what I was thinking, maybe even saying, as I listened to the news report in my car. Then I felt the emotion wash over me even as I felt anger at whoever did this.


As a cyclist I have ridden in a number of sponsored bike rides. Imagine the layered horror of having a day that you’ve looked forward to and trained for as both competitive and enjoyable turn into a terrorist attack. It is overwhelming. Simplistically not being able to run the race is bad. To lose limbs because of an evil bomb…I can’t find the right word.

A short post for tonight. It seems sacrilegious to me to write or think of anything beyond Boston. Tonight is a night for praying and grieving. Tomorrow I will attempt to go back to normal.

Fashion, Coachella Fest and A Fathers' Heart

Being the father of a teenager, the Coachella Fest dress ethic troubles me. I serve coffee in Palm Spring so I’m right in the heart of it. The clothing is a mix of dubious fashion and beach wear. It’s low cut tops and high cut shorts often with nothing covering the bellybutton. The shorts are as short (or shorter) as Daisy Duke’s and the tops as revealing. In my mind the comfortable clothes choice would be a pair of Levis and a tee shirt but those don’t draw the attention that Daisy Duke does.

Time was I would have had no problem with the dress code (though the alcohol and drugs would have bothered me even in my youth). As any young man I would have gone to the festival for the music and had no problem with the scenery. To quote Paul Simon, “I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome that I took some comfort there.” That was before fatherhood.

Now I see only young women less intent on fashion than on selling what’s (barely) concealed under the clothing. It seems it’s more about ‘hooking up’ and having a good time than it is about the music. I understand but note the dynamic all the same. It saddens me in some way. I find myself blushing for the women.

It causes me to wonder where these girls’ fathers were. Would they have addressed their daughter’s style sense when the daughter lived at home? Were they present for their little girl? Would their strong presence have made their girl more comfortable in her skin hence less comfortable showing it off? My heart stirs and aches with these questions knowing that Coachella Fest is just a microcosm of the present culture.

In my confusion I check in with my Father and prayed for us all. I pray for forgiveness for being absent and love for the broken. With mixed emotion I pray this generation will be affirmed and awakened to significance that like Eve they will know they are naked and go to God to be clothed.

Night Of The Carnival

The carnival is in town so it’s no surprise that the cops have a set up a checkpoint through town. It’s one of those nights where the moon hides in its own shadow and the wind carries something dark. People walk to and fro from the carnival. It’s teens mostly and they seem to wander listlessly as though possessed. Though there are some teenage boys dancing on mountain bikes who seem to know exactly what they want and it is neither good nor reassuring.

On cue my living room lights up neon blue. A police car has pulled over a red vehicle in front of my driveway. The night seems darker than usual yet the lights also seem overly bright so that you can’t see into the shadows. I will check all the locks before I go to bed. Usually the dark and the quiet bring peace but tonight one can sense the shadows---and the quiet is eerily too, too quiet.

One is afraid to go to sleep on such nights. Crawling into bed is the most wonderful of things, greeted by cool crisp sheets and firm mattress the tension slips quickly from ones’ body. Tonight I am afraid of what the dreams will be; the cement pathway and the locker that I can never find though I follow the handrail on and on and on….The falling from on high only to arrive later than I should have; I’ve failed the test but still have to take it over and over…The sense of helpless anxiety creeping in. No! I will not dream those dreams.

Perhaps it is only that the house is quiet; wife gone, daughter with her mom, only work on the horizon. The sun too will rise from that horizon coloring the clouds and chasing away the dark. To sleep then! Morning can not but come to quickly.

Coffee, Triple A and Escapism

Glancing at my desk this very instant you would know some interesting information about me. You would know that I like caffeine in various forms as attested to by the coffee cup sitting right next to the empty Mountain Dew can. You would guess that either I like my hands and skin soft or that work kills my hands and they need lotion. You would also learn that I am a member of the Auto Club from which you would further surmise (based on the torn out pages laying helter-skelter) that I enjoy good food and road trips. What you couldn’t know is how these things realistically fit into my life.

You couldn’t know that I’m a coffee snoot. You couldn’t know that I and my wife have our coffee mailed to us bi-monthly from a special roaster in Redlands. You couldn’t know how the mix of caffeine and ritual, hot liquid and robust taste provide a stable platform upon which begins an often stress-filled day. Knowing, perhaps you can relate, but the coffee cup only hints at the reality but doesn’t reveal it.

The Day Trip article from “Triple-A” features the suburb of Lomita. I don’t know that I’ll ever go there. It’s just that idea of travel and escape lures me. My conviction is that one must make room for these little trips as Sabbath rests if you will. Apart from days off I find the need to take trips to energize my soul and restore focus. Working with the public has its’ own unique issues and it’s necessary to take the time away from them in order to pursue loving them well. Thus the cut-out articles on food and travel. These are not dream trips these are drives and visits that instill lost sanity.

So it is that my desk tells part of the story of work days that begin at daybreak with dark coffee and are filled with the pressures of customer service. It tells the tale of days given to wanderlust and rest, promise of good food and new adventures. In between those two the rest of life fits in far from the desk where I enjoy my caffeine.