Lost at Sea

I was listening to the Against the Rules podcast this morning by Michael Lewis, and it started me thinking.  I've been bothered by something for a long time, but I couldn't figure out how to put it into words.  Miracles.  

What is a miracle anyway?  I don't guess I have a great definition unless I look at the New Testament.  The things that Jesus did in his ministry were miracles.  He was born of a virgin.  He healed the sick.  He gave sight to the blind.  He caused the lame to walk.  He raised the dead.  And, finally, he raised himself from the dead before flying away to Heaven.  None of that is explainable.  There's no "with the help of" clause.  He just did it, and I believe it.  I also believe He still does it because I have seen it or at least I think I have.  

The podcast starts off by telling the story of Joe Blushtein.  You can read the official account at this link (https://abc7.com/joe-blushtein-rescued-saved-coast-guard-rescue/517826/).  Basically, he and his brother with some other guys went fishing near Santa Barbara island.  On the way back, he fell off the boat and no one noticed.  He was in the ocean for hours, and nearly died.  This is my worst nightmare because I am terrified of sharks, but that's for another day.  Sharks, believe it or not, aren't even what kills you in these situations.  It's the cold.  People succumb to hyperthermia because the ocean just sucks the heat out of you.  But, Joe didn't.  He lived.  

Now, there are two stories for why Joe lived.  Let's start with Joe's first.  

Joe says that when he fell overboard he "wasn't living right".  He'd been raised to be a Christian, but he wasn't following it.  He first started trying to swim to shore, about 13 miles.  As he swam, he realized the ocean current was carrying him further out to sea, and he realized all he could do was float and hope someone saw him.  If you've ever flown over the ocean or been on a cruise you can see how ridiculous that is.  It's so huge that it just seems impossible that someone could find you.  He believed he was about to die so he started trying to "get right with God".  As he floated, several times he thought it was over.  His legs cramped, but they'd stop.  He'd get tired because he wasn't in great shape, but he'd have the strength to go on.  A seagull would dive down "2 inches from my nose" and wake him up at just the right moment.  Finally, the Coast Guard spotted him.  They picked him up and he lived.  When Joe tells the story he says, "I want to give credit to the Coast Guard and all they do, but they didn't save me.  I was saved by my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ."  

The second story is less dramatic but a lot more logical.  First off, Joe is a big guy on a fairly small frame.  He's kind of fat or well insulated.  This matters a lot in a situation like this because it gave him a lot more time.  That's the first thing, time.  The Coast Guard can find you, but it's going to take some time.  The reason they can find you is because of the work of a guy named Arthur A. Allen, an oceanographer who works for them.  Prior to WW2, if you were lost at sea, that was it.  You died.  They didn't even bother to look because there was nothing to be found.  With all those downed pilots, we started trying for the first time.  George HW Bush was one of those if you remember.  He was rescued by a submarine after his plane was shot down.  So, we were trying, but we were still terrible at it.  This was the problem that Allen tried to solve.  Where do we look and how?  It's not as simple as you would think.  Children drift different than adults.  Life boats drift different than sail boats.  Fat people different from skinny... and on and on.  It wasn't until May of 2001 that Allen began to realize this.  That's when he started researching it by throwing things in the ocean.  That's right.  Lots of things getting thrown in the ocean and then watching and measuring how they reacted.  Based on a lot of experiments both on and off the clock, Allen developed equations that could predict where people might be after falling overboard.  It took till 2007, but that's what they use now.  It's still very very difficult, but we've gotten much better.  On an average day, the US loses about ten people at sea.  Of the ten, we rescue seven.  Of those three, one dies before the Coast Guard is even notified.  One dies before they can get there.  And, one is never found.  Think about that!  Because of this man's work we've gone from a lost at sea scenario having a 100% kill rate down to 10%.  

So what actually happened to Joe Blushstein?  He was fat enough to stay alive long enough for Allen's equations to be used by the Coast Guard to go pick him up.    

Is that miraculous?  I don't know.  Maybe...  

With Annika, I have prayed for a miracle so many times that I couldn't even begin to count.  When she started, she couldn't sit up, but now, she can walk independently.  Her gate isn't great, but it's improving with the help of braces, suits, and even electrical stimulation.  I believe God inspired those ideas in people's minds to invent these things.  I believe He has provided us with the ability to find them and the means to execute on the information.  I am thankful for all of it, but I don't think they are miracles.  A miracle is unexplainable, and Annika's progress is explainable.  It's the product of two parents that have done everything we could possibly think to do to help her be all she can be.  When you call her progress a miracle, it devalues that sacrifice and work.  While that bothers me, I don't know that I really care all that much.  I am happy for people to see the hand of God regardless of what I think about it.  Why should I get in there way?  No, what bothers me is the cynical person who hears you say it.  They may never say anything, but they are thinking "Seriously?  So, why'd my mother die then?  These people are crazy".  There's a ton of people out there who wouldn't drink a beer if you held a gun to their head.  Some of them think the very act is a sin, while others would say that their witness to anyone watching might be damaged.  They don't want to get in the way of someone's conversion.  I get that, and honor it.  It's a great attitude, but I suspect that there are much bigger issues at play than you drinking a beer or not.  When we call things miracles that are otherwise explainable, people notice.  When we claim that politicians are godly when they clearly aren't, people notice.  When we grow our churches not through conversion but just by being the new "it" church in a small town that other parishioners now change to, people notice.  People notice fraud, and they hate it.  That's why they celebrate the fall of a televangelist.  People love to see hypocrisy exposed.  On the other hand, they crave the genuine.  The real.  If God isn't that then He isn't God, and I believe He is.  He's nothing but genuine and real.  He still loves us.  He still performs miracles.  He still gives hope to the hopeless.  I long for the day when he sets his house back in order and the "real" is all that's left.  Will Annika receive a miracle before that time?  I don't know, and if not, I don't know why either.  That's not my job.  My job is to keep asking, and to keep having faith in the "real" that is coming.  Any healing before then is temporary anyway, right?  We all still die in the end.   

This world is not my home.  

Bob Dylan, Barack Obama, Jesus, and Me

Toward the end of college, I discovered Bob Dylan. His music spoke to me, and still speaks to me, more than any other artist I can think of.  I quickly devoured his whole catalog, and even now, the guys at work make fun of me for how often he comes up in my playlist.  Something about him and the way he puts words together really resonates with me.

One of my favorite lines of his is, “If you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose.”  I always liked that and secretly envied people who were able to cast things aside like careers and 401(k)’s to pursue a random trade or adventure.  Back in my 20’s, I thought this line meant that the things you own end up owning you, but now, I understand it to mean something completely different. 

Back in 2008, I was amazed at Barak Obama’s run for President.  I had never witnessed anyone carry such energy.  I remember talking with a lady I worked with who had been to one of his rallies and had left in tears.  Tears!  I was amazed. What really captured my imagination was he was able to transfer the energy from coast to coast, somehow connecting people in Texas with New York and California.  When he accepted the nomination in Denver, they had to rent out Mile High Stadium because it drew a crowd in excess of 100,000 people.  A couple of months later at his victory speech in Chicago, they estimated that more than a quarter of a million people were in attendance.  Think about that.  A quarter of a million people all motivated by the same dream.  The same idea.  What was that idea?  “Hope and Change.”  In other words, he had united a whole country like no one in a generation behind the idea that there is hope for a better tomorrow and together we can change things. The next day at the office, people asked me what I thought about it knowing that I had often criticized him and his campaign.  I remember saying, “I feel sorry for him because there’s no way he can deliver on these people’s expectations.”  And, of course, he didn’t, and now, it’s little more than a memory.  

On me and Bob Dylan’s birthday in 2014, I came home from the pharmacy to discover my wife laying in the floor of our house surrounded by a puddle.  She looked at me with fear in her eyes and told me her water had broken.  She was only 29 weeks and 5 days pregnant.  I rushed her to the hospital, and after a day filled with a lot of trauma my daughters were born.  There’s a long, detailed story that, quite honestly, I don’t really like to think about because it’s too painful, but it boils down to this: the hospital was not adequately prepared for Jessica’s emergency and this was compounded by human error in the emergency area.  Despite all of that, everyone survived, and I now was the father of 2 beautiful little girls.  What I didn’t know at the time, but later discovered, was that Annika had been injured during labor and a portion of her brain was damaged.  This left her with cerebral palsy.  

Maybe someday, I will write a blog about the pain of discovering my daughter was handicapped caused me and the journey that I went on afterward.  Literally years of not just anger but rage at everyone and everything that surrounded me.  It’s an issue I still deal with and confront daily, but where there was once an inferno only embers now remain.  But today isn’t about that.  Today is about what I’ve learned.  

When you are little, you play and imagine all kinds of different fantasies.  I can hear my girls doing that in the other room as I type this right now.  Somewhere along the line, you are taught to stop dreaming about fantasyland and start dreaming about your future.  You are told, if not directly then indirectly, that if you will follow all the rules and do everything right then all your dreams will come true.  It’s my belief that this lie is uniquely American.  For example, if you are born in Ghana or just about anywhere else in the world, you discover very quickly that this life is no fairytale, and it will break you in every way it can.  Not so here though (because there is no room for this kind of talk if you are living the “American dream”), and this is especially true among American Christians.  You don’t have to be a “prosperity gospel” Christian to believe on some level that “God loves you and wants you to be happy”.  We are told about Jeremiah 29:11 and Philippians 4:13 as proof of this theology.  Forget about the fact that the children of Israel got led off into slavery literally only a few sentences down.  That’s not important.  What’s important is that if you follow the rules then you should be able to live happily ever after.  If you ever have a problem, just call up what I refer to as “Magic Jesus” and he’ll grant your wishes in proportion to how good you have been.  Like many people my age, I set off on this journey, and because there was no Great War and no Great Depression for us we bought into this idea wholeheartedly.  In other words, we started building our Kingdom.  I think that’s the big flaw.  It’s Our Kingdom and not God’s.  We try to do everything right.  We go to college.  We get married.  We get a mortgage and a car.  We go to church every Sunday and try not to say bad words at work.  We follow the rules.  And brick by brick, our Kingdom begins to form.  But, this life is no fairytale, and as James says, “life (itself) is like a vapor” much less the things we have built within it.  I don’t care who you are.  I don’t care how carefully you’ve followed the rules.  At some point, life is going to rise up and smack you down.  The dragon that came and destroyed my Kingdom was called Cerebral Palsy, but yours might be called something different.  There are lots of them:  Envy, Divorce, Death, Drugs, Abuse, Stress… it goes on and on.  I have no idea what yours will be, but I can promise you that your Grendel is out there.  What’s worse is like the story, if you kill it, his mother will show up and destroy what’s left.  When this happens people will pity you, and you’ll find that it doesn’t help.  In fact, it’s like throwing gasoline on that raging inferno that I spoke about earlier, and you are filled with resentment.  That’s when you ring up Magic Jesus just as you’ve been taught only to discover that he’s not there.  Even worse, you begin to believe that he doesn’t care.  Finally, you wonder if he was ever real at all. This is a dark place.  It’s soul crushing and the more it closes in on you the heavier it gets.  It leaves you without hope, without purpose, and most certainly without religion.  It was at this point that I realized that I hadn’t been following Jesus at all, but rather a fairytale.  It was also at this point that He found me.  Not a magical Santa Claus Jesus, but the real one, and He began to teach me things about himself.  Honestly, He taught me things that I didn’t want to know, but like the Good Father that he is, he taught me anyway.  He taught me that my Kingdom had never mattered to Him in the first place, but that His Kingdom should mean everything to me and I was humbled by it. He taught me that this knowledge is where the early Christians (and Christians throughout the world who are still being persecuted) found joy.  A joy that allowed them to sing as they burned in front of crowds of Romans, just as countless martyrs after them.   Recently, he emblazoned this on my mind yet again in the form of a story I was told about a group of Indian women who although held in slavery and used for prostitution, gather weekly to worship only to return to their lives of misery and bondage.  He taught me that when He promised to rescue them it didn’t necessarily mean right here and right now.  It meant that He would make it right someday.  He died to give me hope in a hopeless world.  

It’s changed the way I look at everything.  Nothing really matters much to me anymore.  I no longer have anything really, so Bob Dylan was right, I have nothing to lose. What’s more is that my eyes have been opened to hurting people like never before.  I have a sense of empathy which I never had before, and I see them. Yes, my daughter can’t walk, but she’s not alone.  Every single person I see is handicapped by something.  No one is whole.  Everyone is broken.  And, they are all starving for hope.  That’s why Barak Obama was so successful.  He was promising that he was the answer to what they thirsted for.  He’s not alone.  Read any history book, and you’ll discover that there have been many, many others. They don’t always come in the form of men either.  It could be the idea of America.  The idea that because of our great country, you can create your Kingdom, but it’s not true. You may be rich, you will lose it. You may be an Iron man, but you will get old.  You may have friends and family, one way or the other, eventually they will leave you. It’s all a mirage, but it no longer fools me.  I’m not afraid of losing anything anymore, because I now realize I never really had anything to begin with.  I’m just camping.  I’m waiting for my real life to begin.  It doesn’t matter.  My eyes are now fixed on something better.  The place I was meant for.  A place of no handicaps not just for Annika but for anyone.  A place of justice and love.  I can’t wait for it, and it seems like I can’t almost see it.  It’s just a little bit further.  Just another 50 years or so.  That’s not too long.  I just have to keep going.  It’s just around the corner.  I just have to get over this last hill…

This world is not my home.

This is just 3 pages, but it’s taken me 5 pain filled years to write it.  I’ve grown, and I no longer feel resentful when people have pity on our situation.  In fact, the reverse is now true, I feel pity for people who haven’t met their Grendel yet. I haven’t reached the point where I can say that I’m thankful for CP yet, but I can say that I am thankful for who I have become.  I have changed.  I still love Bob Dylan, but my favorite line has just changed.  Now, it is “he who isn’t busy being born is busy dying.”  I want Him to keep me busy being born.

The Carpenter

I enjoy doing work around my house.  Whether it be mowing the yard, trimming the bushes, even building furniture for our house, I get a lot of joy from working a task through to completion, and I take a lot of pride in a job well done.  The problem is that when you are in the midst of doing a job, you often find other problems that also have to be fixed.  It's like those house flipping shows on TV.  "Wow, I can't believe we have to redo all the electrical in this 1922 model house.  I was sure that it would be up to 2016 code!  This is really going to blow the budget!"  You get what I'm saying.

I was thinking about this last night in relation to my walk with Jesus.  In many ways, I'm like an old house that Jesus is still working on.  How perfect is it that He was a carpenter?  "Oh wow, check out these old feelings of resentment here!  Look over there, that temper of his is really going to be a problem.  I can't leave that."  I wonder if these are the things Jesus is saying to himself (and to me!) as I walk with him and try to know him better?  I believe they are.  I know they are.  The question I've always wondered is does He love me in spite of them? 

I find in the Christian church you have two distinct sects of people.  You have the works people who quote scriptures like "faith without works is dead" and then you have the grace people who quote scriptures like "I am convinced that nothing can separate me from the love of Jesus."  All my life, I've been wrestling with this issue and trying to decide what is correct.  I'm still not entirely certain of my conclusions, but for me, I think it comes down to Peter. 

Everyone knows that Peter denied Christ.  It's shown in Mark, Luke, and John.  The story shows that not only did Peter deny Christ, but that he did it 3 times.  The last time, he even got angry and cursed at the people.  I sure am glad I've never done anything like that…. I asked myself this morning, was Peter a Christian at that moment?  Of course, he was.  He had just spent 3 years walking with Jesus.  Now, think about that.  I try to walk with Jesus.  I try to pray.  I try to have a relationship.  But let's be honest, most of the time, it feels kind of one-sided.  At least, that's true for me.  But, it wasn't true for Peter.  Peter literally walked with Jesus.  They were companions.  They were great friends.  They undoubtedly fished together.  They probably built furniture, too.  Peter knew what kind of jelly Jesus liked on his biscuits, the kind of jokes Jesus thought were funny, what the name of Jesus' dog was.  I wish I knew those things.  Don’t you?  Can you imagine what it would be like to know Jesus as deeply as you know your spouse, your brother, or your best friends?  I can't deny I'm envious of that.  Even with that knowledge and companionship, Peter still had to make a choice though, right?  I mean after all, in Matthew 16:13-20, Jesus specifically asked his disciples who he was, and it was Peter who replied, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."  That's a profession of faith.  That's the moment, for me, when Peter becomes a Christian.  Can't you hear people singing on the way to the swimming pool for baptismal "I have decided to follow Jesus, no turning back, no turning back"?  That's the moment his life should've been changed, right?  So, what happens then outside the garden?  Who is this other Peter?  This Peter who is afraid.  This Peter who is filled with doubt.  Where is the Peter who in Matthew 17 had been on the mountain with Moses, Elijah, and Jesus whose face had "shone like the sun" and was confirmed by a voice from heaven saying "This is my Son, whom I love; with Him I am well pleased.  Listen to Him"?  How could this be?  When you have a moment of professed faith, isn't that it?  After that, aren't you supposed to be free from sin? 

So what is it I'm talking about?  I mean really?  Now, I'm no theologian, and I certainly don't claim to be.  I'm just a normal guy with a normal job and a normal life trying to know Jesus.  Trying to be like Him.  But growing up in the church, I was taught that the term sanctification is what I'm describing above.  I was always taught that sanctification was an instantaneous event.  That once sanctified, the hold of sin on your life would be forever broken.  I think that's true, but I think it sells it short.  Don't get me wrong, do I believe in deliverance and victory over sin?  Certainly!  My grandfather talked of smoking a pipe until he was sanctified and then being instantly delivered from it.  I've also heard stories of people delivered from drugs, alcohol, and other sins in similar ways.  I'm sure you have, too.  Likewise, I've heard of folks who were healed of cancer and other life threatening diseases.  On the other hand, I've seen people pray and plead for life and watched as cancer killed them anyway.  I think that's a lot like sanctification.  Some folks get delivered immediately and others continue to wrestle with portions of their flesh the rest of their lives.  Why?  I think it's because there's a difference between outright willful sin and falling into temptation.  How can I prove this?  Well, I probably can't, but what I would point to is first the Lord's Prayer.  Why would Jesus, when instructing us how to pray, tell us to ask God to not "let us fall into temptation"?  If we are on some holy plane where we are completely past sin, what's the point of praying about it?  I think something that's still more powerful is what happens in Luke just a few verses up from Peter's denying Christ.  Jesus asks the disciples to pray and then goes away in private and pleads with the father to the point of sweating "like drops of blood".  He returns to find them asleep, and what does He say?  He says, "Get up and pray so that you will not fall into temptation."  Keep in mind, He's not talking to me and some of my friends.  He's literally talking to the Saints.  To the martyrs.  To the pillars of the faith!  That's what I see.  Do you know what I think Jesus saw?  I think he just saw a bunch of guys that were friends of His.  Guys he had fished with.  Men he had laughed with.  Humans.  Normal men who weren't perfect and weren't going to be, but Men who had made a decision to follow Him.  To love Him.  To try to be like Him.  But men He knew weren't always going to be successful at it.  And you know what?  That's ok.  Because he knew that it was a daily process for most of us.  He knew Peter's failure would mean more to me 2000 years later than it might have even meant to Peter at the time.  He knew that I would need to know that it's ok.  That He still loves me.  That no matter what, "nothing can separate me from His love."  But at the same time, He also wants me to pray for deliverance.  He wants me to put my shoulder into the plow.  He wants me to struggle to shake off more of my sinful flesh and to be like Him.  He understood that it's like a quarter.  You can't have the heads without the tails.  And, the sweet doesn't taste as sweet without the sour. 

Again, I'm not a theologian.  I'm just a normal man trying to make sense out of my life, and this is what I think.

 

This world is not my home.  

    

Colors Bold and Bright

One of my favorite songs is by the group Dave Matthews Band.  It is entitle Grey Street.  It is written about a close friend of the band who committed suicide.  The author takes on her persona and is communicating the feelings of overwhelming hopelessness that she has.  It has always spoken to me because I feel that, although this woman was at the end of her rope, everyone can identify with her feelings.

The song starts out by eluding to her haunting memories.  During her daily life she "stumbles through her memories" and asks herself "Hey, how did it come to this?"  Don’t we all feel this way?  Aren't we all haunted by past mistakes?  What about those among us who are haunted with abuses?  Mental, verbal, or sexual… it's not just memories or your errors but of the terrible things that have been done to you.  So, what does she do?  She prays.  She prays to "God most every night", and "although she swears He doesn't listen, there's still a hope in her he might".  Because there's no response, she then decides to take "it on myself to get out of this place".  She dreams of "kicking out the windows and setting fire to this life" where she would "change everything about her using colors bold and bright, but all the colors blend together to grey".  In other words, the more she tries to fix it, the worse it gets.  To her, life is some kind of a trap that only constricts more as she struggles.  Ultimately, finding no other means of relief, she discovers that "though it's red blood bleeding from her now, it felt like cold blue ice in her heart."  She ends her life. 

How sad, but how accurate.  How often I have said to myself, "It's all a big nothing."  I mean, what's the point really?  Grow up, go to college, get a job, get married, have kids, repeat.  For what purpose?  And for those who are lost, that's it.  This song, while a song about an individual could just as well be the song of a dying generation.  People who have no hope and no future.  Yet, deep inside there is a longing for something more, and we are surrounded by it.  People are starving for something real.  They are so desperate that they will crawl into an oasis looking for water and finding none will drink the sand.

So what is the cure?  The same as it's always been, Jesus.  The only one who can give what Jeremiah called a "hope and a future."  Yes, I might get led into slavery as part of it, but I can't worry about that.  I can't worry about what is in my peripheral vision.  I have to stay focuses on Christ who knows me and loves me.  Who Paul says thinks of me as a brother.  People say that you should be careful about praying for God's will in your life because it could mean India.  To which I would say, what are you clinging to?  Do you not see how depressing and hopeless the cycle of life in America is?  We live in the Iowa of Christianity.  No scenery, no vision, no purpose.  Sometimes, I long for India.  I long for purpose and direction.  I long to change everything "using colors bold and bright".  Of course, I haven't done that yet.  I don't know what my purpose is.  Therefore, I have to stay focused on the Architect and remember…

This world is not my home.            

It could've been so much easier.

It could've been so much easier. 

I could've stayed around home.  I could've got a job down toward Nashville.  I could've stayed at TDOT.  I could've married a local girl.  We could've had a couple of normal kids.  We could've went to Hilton Head for vacation every year.  We could've attended a local church.  We could've been friends with the same people I've known my whole life.  I could've coached Pee Wee Basketball.  I could've watched the years roll by without much disruption.  I could've been normal. 

I didn't want to be normal.

I remember one time when I was a kid asking my Mom when "we were going to have an adventure".  I remember how disappointed I was when I discovered that we weren't going to.  Not today.  Not tomorrow.  Not next week.  Not ever.  TV and movies were just TV and movies.  They weren't real life.  I remember thinking "Why not?", and that was out of parents and grandparents that really went above and beyond normal life where I was from.  We never went to Florida on vacation.  We went places like Nova Scotia.  Even still, I knew there had to be another life.  Not necessary a better life, mind you.  There are certainly people who live the life I described above and love every second of it, and It's not my intention to criticize that.  It just wasn't me.  I wanted something more.  I wanted to stand on top of mountains.  I wanted to look around and see no one who spoke my language.  I wanted to watch movies and TV shows and see places that I had been, or even better still, places that I had lived.  I wanted to do things.  Travel.  Fly.  Surf.  Scuba dive.  Own a motorcycle.  Mountain bike.  Ski.  Ride the subway.  Sail.  Kite board.  Fly fish.  Kayak.  I wanted to push the limits. 

Still, life is not a movie.  Having done all those things I listed and more, I've discovered that it's really more about balance.  Adventure is a drug.  You get high on living in different places and doing different things the same way people get drunk on doing the same thing  living in the same place all the time.  It's a problem, too, because it becomes harder and harder to get your fix so to speak.  I have no doubt that if something happen to my wife, God forbid, I would get a van or a motorcycle and take off.  Mom would be looking at her phone wondering who was calling from Argentina.  People say that all the time, but I would really do it.  The itch is just that bad.  Over time though, I've learned…  I've tried really hard to learn… to slow down.  My friend Alan in Maine told me once that, "First, you fish to catch fish.  Then, you fish to catch a certain type of fish.  Eventually, you go fishing to enjoy the flowers."  I thought that was beautiful, but what's more, I eventually found it to be true.  I've also found that "Those who push the limits, sometimes find that the limits push back."  In the movies, the protagonist faces adversity, but in a two hour movie, his struggle lasts maybe 15 mins.  So maybe 25% of the time.  In real life, it's not only the opposite proportion but it's much greater than 75% of the time that you are just struggling to survive.  Even with that, sometimes things come along that blindside you, and hit you harder than you could've ever imagine.  Like you stepped out in the street only to be flattened by a cement truck.  On those "idle Tuesday's", you'll really question your choices in life and what you really believe. 

Do I have regrets?  Sure, but it's not about the choices I've made.  The regrets I have come from not having enough time to "get it all done".  Life is grand.  There's so much out there to see and discover.  There's so many people to know and love.  That said, I'm no longer fearless, though.  I've been hit by one too many cement trucks, I guess, but I still love life.  I still see so much possibility just in this life, and I am breathless at what eternity will hold.  I guess I'm just happy to say that I've discovered that it's like the tshirts say, "Life is good."  I would just add, "… eternity will be even better."

 

This world is not my home.    

And if not

I don't know what it's like to grow up in other types of homes.  I would assume that if you grow up in a home where the parents are super into music, then you probably get to learn an instrument whether you like it or not for example.  Likewise, almost every coach I have ever known had kids who were equally into football or basketball or whatever.  I've even know people who were super into church, and I've noticed that their children also not only have a love for God but all things religion.  I don't know what any of that is like really.

I grew up in the home of a history teacher.  My Dad can and often did quote directly from the Founding Fathers.  I remember being frustrated during Social Studies in elementary school because the teacher was just leaving out way too much cool stuff.  Likewise, my Dad grew up under a historian of sorts.  My grandfather was like most men his age in Middle Tennessee, he was a garment factory worker who would "moonlight" as a farmer.  He was different in one respect though.  My grandfather was self-educated.  He had read every historical account you can think of, and by that, I mean all of them.  He could recite to you specific movements of Stonewall Jackson's Army in the Civil War from memory.  He once recited to me our family tree from memory all the way back to the first Oldham who landed in Virginia.  His ability to retain what he had learned was really an amazing thing to behold.  To watch that being stripped from him by Alzheimer's disease was equally heartbreaking.  Where my Grandfather was interested in History, his brother loved Math.  He somehow found some Algebra, Geometry, and Calculus books and taught himself to work the problems.  He didn't finish until he had worked all the problems in each book.  I once asked my Grandfather why his brother wasn't still interested in Math.  Direct quote, "He worked all the problems in the books at the library."  All the problems.  I suspect becoming an engineer would've been easier had I fallen after him but I didn't.  I grew up in the history teacher's house, and like I said, I have no idea what they do in other houses but in our house you hear dates and historical accounts so much that you eventually start remembering them whether you want to or not.  Because of some recent developments in my life, I'm going to tell you one.

On September 1, 1939, Germany invaded Poland.  This is one of the dates that is emblazoned on my memory.  This is noteworthy, because while we don't think of them as a super power today, at the time, Germany was to be feared.  While England had long reigned supreme on the Sea, the land in Europe had essentially belonged to the German or Prussian Army since the fall of Napoleon.  While it's true, they took a terrible beating in WWI, they were still a great force to be reckoned with.  Fearing this great force, Britain, France, and Poland had entered into an allied pack in order to defend themselves.  When Germany invaded Poland, only a few hours passed before both France and England declared war and thus began WW2.  Both France and England expected a repeat of WW1, there would be some offensive and defensive moves on both sides initially, but eventually they would settle into trench warfare again, but Germany had no intention of being drawn into that fight again.  During the years between the wars, their commanders had developed a new tactic called the Blitzkrieg or Lightning War.  In this new style of battle, the idea was to simply put all your chips on the table in a couple of areas.  Rather than fight across a long front, they would abandon most areas and simply concentrate in a couple of points along the line.  This would eventually result in the enemy being surrounded at which point they would either surrender or be completely destroyed.  By using this means of attack, Germany succeed in defeating Poland within the month.  France held out for about 6 months, but it too eventually fell and surrendered to Germany.  Before this happened though, Britain sent what was called the British Expeditionary Force to the continent in hopes of helping the French turn the tide.  Like the French, the British didn't have a chance.  They were quickly surrounded and driven back to a city on the French coast called Dunkirk.  To say the situation was hopeless is a bit of an understatement.  They had not only been defeated, they had been obliterated.  Just when it seemed that all was lost, suddenly and for no apparent reason the fighting stopped.  The Germans held them where they were, but they were no longer advancing or even trying to advance.  What was discovered later was that Hitler had ordered the Army to halt so that he could send in the Luftwaffe (the German Airforce) and demonstrate to the world that not only did Germany have superiority on the land but also in the air.  Unfortunately for them, they couldn't get everything together fast enough and it left the Brits with an opening.  In these few moments, the commander of the BEF was able to get a message back to Britain.  What did it say?  You'd expect, "Get us out of here!!" or "Send more reinforcements!!", but that's not what it said.  The message was simple.  It read only three words.  "And if not"  "And if not"???  What???  You are surrounded by the enemy.  They are advancing on all fronts.  They have no intention of taking prisoners.  They are going to kill every last person in your company, and this is what he sends.  Why?  Because, he knew his Old Testament.

The Book of Daniel gives an account of three Hebrew men who defied a King.  Those men are known as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  Now, every child who grows up in children's church knows these names.  These were the men who when told to bow before the image of God that King Nebuchadnezzar had created dared to defy him.  The story is well known, and it's easy to recount because we often don’t think of it in the moment.  Imagine the scene though, they were surrounded by the enemy.  Sound familiar?  The King of the opposition is giving a direct order to the people.  Their countrymen.  Their tribes.  Even their very family members were willing to obey.  In fact, we are led to believe that the entire nation of Israel along with all the other nations under his control submitted to the what the King had ordered even though it was in direct defiance of the true and living God.  All except for these three.  When brought before the King, he questioned them about their actions and told them that if they did not comply that they would be thrown into the fiery furnace.  The worst possible death I can imagine.  In reply to the King, we read in Daniel 3:17-18 what they had to say:  "If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty's hand.  AND IF NOT, we want you to know Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have setup."  You know the rest of the story.  The King was enraged.  He heated the furnace so hot that the men who through in Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego died from the burns they received in the process.  But when Nebuchadnezzar looked into the fire, he saw not the three men but four and the fourth looked like a "son of the Gods".  When they came out of the fire, they had not be harmed and the King was amazed.

This story was so engrained in British culture that when the message was sent back to England, it galvanized the British people in their response.  They sent military ships.  They sent merchant ships.  They sent pleasure boats.  They sent yachts.  They spent speedboats.  If it could float, they sent it across the English Chanel to rescue their boys.  As you may or may not know, they arrived on May 27th, 1940.  Not one soldier was left behind.  All were evacuated to safety and freedom.  All because of three insignificant words, spoken at a time of hopelessness and despair. 

I often find that I too am surrounded by the enemy.  I don't expect everything to go right in my life.  I just expect things mostly to be normal, but when I find that it is such a struggle to just keep an even keel, I get discouraged.  There are moments of hopelessness.  Moments when I feel that my whole world is crashing around me.  I suppose we all have these from time to time.  The enemy has you surrounded and he is intent on destroying not just you but also your entire family.  I feel abandonded.  I wonder where this Jesus who loves me and cares for me is at.  It's in these moments, that I am thankful that I grew up in a history teacher's house.  No, I don't know how to throw a curveball.  That is true.  But in my darkest hours.  When I am in the bottom of the Valley, and the enemy has me surrounded, I whisper to myself, "And if not", lift my head, put my shoulder back into the struggle and "push on toward the prize."  My Savior paid my ransom.  My chains are gone.  I've been set free.  If nothing else, that was enough. 
 

This world is not my home.    

   

Permanent

When you’re a kid you think things will last forever.  Everything is permanent.  My best friend will always be my best friend.  My friend group will always be exactly like it is.  I don’t think that it’s you being illogical.  I think it’s just your inability to see beyond five minutes in the future.  Even folks who are a little more mature, folks that make good grades and smart decisions, aren’t a lot better than everyone else.  Sure, I made good grades and went to college, but so what, in a group of people that couldn’t see more than 5 mins into the future, I could see 6.  Big deal. 

So, you go to college or you join the military or you go to work, and then life starts and not only for you but also for everyone else.  You see very quickly that the folks you thought would always play a big role in your life start to disappear.  Now, don’t get me wrong, you stay acquainted with a precious few, but you don’t know each other like you did.  Not only that but what they think doesn’t seem to matter as much as it used to.  Then what?  Well, you make new friends of course.  College friends or adult friends or whatever you want to call it.  Again you think, this is permanent, and again, it turns out not to be.  Sure, some of your best friends you will make during this period, but again, it’s only a precious few not the multitude that you might expect. 

Somewhere around this time, you get married.  If you are lucky, you’ll fall in love.  You don’t want to go anywhere without them.  You don’t want to do anything without them.  Food doesn’t taste as good when they aren’t there.  Experiences are a waste of time if you can’t share it with them.  You can become obsessive, and I don’t think that’s real.  That’s temporary.  If you are lucky, you’ll fall in love for real.  But if you win the lotto something else will happen.  You’ll learn to be so comfortable with the person that you don’t mind being away from them because you know they will be there when you return.  That you’ll pick up where you left off like picking up an old conversation.  This person will become what I like to call my “left hand”.  Could I live without my left hand?  Sure, I could, but things would be a lot less comfortable.  That doesn’t sound as romantic as what they show in the movies, but trust me, it is.  In fact, it’s way more so.  It’s commitment.  It’s trust.  It’s comfort.  And again, you think, this is permanent, but it’s not.  Of course, you don’t know that yet though, so what do you do?  You take this “left hand”, and together, you form some more people to be part of your world.  These people will become your heart.  Not just your heart either, but the “left hand’s” heart as well.  You’d lay down in traffic for them.  Give them anything that you can.  Not anything to keep them happy, but certainly anything they need.  They get older and grow stronger, and right about the time you’ve got it all under control and think everything is cool, what happens?  They leave.  They find “left hands” of their own.  Make more creatures and the spinning wheel spins.  Eventually, you find out that even the “left hand” isn’t permanent.  Sure, some folks lose there’s to life, work, and stress, but most people don’t.  Most people discover new things to worry about.  Scary words like “cancer” and “Alzheimer’s” and “heart disease” and… well, you get the idea.  If you live long enough, you lose your “left hand”.  You’ll watch them put her in the ground, and you’ll walk away crippled for the rest of your life.  A wound that won’t heal.  So again… not permanent. 

Over the last few years, I’ve realize that all my life, I’ve been looking for something permanent.  I long for it.  What’s more, I think everyone else does, too.  How else do you explain people’s actions?  People invest tons of time and money into their family, their children, and probably worst of all their property.  I think it’s the search for something significant.  Something that will outlast yourself.  Your legacy.  Your permanent record.  And, in the end, it’s all for nothing.  Look at the Romans.  In their time, they ruled the known World.  Of course, it wasn’t the whole world, but it was the only part that mattered.  They ruled it all.  They had incredible food, culture, buildings, history, monuments… A couple of years ago, Jess and I went to Rome and when you see the old City, some of it is left, but most of it is a pile of stones.  And that’s the greatest civilization in history.  If they can’t achieve it, what chance do you have? 

Sounds depressing doesn’t it?  It is.  If you think about it, it’s all a big nothing.  Truly, it’s all a big nothing.  And if you think about that too long… well… that’ll make you feel pretty bad.  That’s where I’ve been for the last few years.  I had a really hard time getting past it, and then, everything changed.  I figured out that there is something permanent.  It was so obvious, I really felt stupid when I realized it.  The present.  The present is definitely permanent.  Why?  Because it’s always here.  You don’t ever live in the future do you?  What about the past?  Nope.  It’s always the present.  All you ever really have is the moment you are in.  Everything you own, everything you have can be taken away, but not this moment.  This second.  That’s always here.  True happiness lies in owning it.  Every breath.  Every heartbeat.  Having realized that has really changed me.  I guess I always knew it, but really grasping it changed my attitude.  It changed my outlook.  I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.  I don’t worry as much about the past or the future as I used to.  Why?  Because they aren’t permanent, even the past changes, based on what happens right now.  It’s like Eddie Vedder said, “It makes much more sense to live in the present tense.”  Or maybe even better yet, C.S. Lewis said, “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.”