Faith

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The fog would roll in like a magician, eventually making things invisible. From my grandparents oceanfront cottage, I marveled as the fogbank washed the colors out of other cottages further down the beach, turning them gray until they finally disappeared.

The fog enveloped our cottage too, but it never seemed as thick and dramatic as it did down the beach. As a boy, I wanted to be in the thick fog, not the flimsy, wispy fog around our place. I always wanted to walk down to at least the O’Brien’s cottage; it always seemed to vanish. I thought about how cool it would be to go there and not be able to see my hands at the end of my extended arms.

So, I’d wander with my bemused grandaunt down the beach, but could never quite get into The Fog, even in front of the O’Brien’s place. The truly dense, thick, exciting fog always seemed to be somewhere else, just out of reach. 

Nowadays, I read Chapter 11 in the Book of Hebrews, the Faith Hall of Fame, and I can hear that same little boy, wondering and longing. Wouldn’t it be cool to move to some strange land at God’s direction like Abraham, not knowing what is going to happen. Or spearhead a huge, building project like Noah. Or be part of some unbelievable miracle, like the Israelites passing through the Red Sea or making the walls of Jericho crumble.

In the verse immediately following his Hall of Fame list, Paul writes, “since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (Hebrews 12:1). The inductees to the Hall of Faith are not literally enveloping us like a fog bank. Their stories are held up as examples, to bear witness, of what awesome and incredible things are possible through faith in God.

Things so incredibly awesome, they seem out of reach.

However, we don’t have to go very far to demonstrate our faith. God hasn’t called us all to be missionaries to a foreign land, or to inspire great crowds of people, or to be a miracle worker. But He has made us parents and spouses and children and acquaintances and employees and friends and business owners. 

And thanks to those relationships and connections, we don’t have to go wandering off to be in the thick of abundant opportunities. There are plenty of chances to display the calm confidence that faith generates, right where we are.

Boston 2013

(Boston Local 103 IBEW)

My heart got ripped out during the 2013 Boston Marathon. Although we have all anguished over the dead and injured many times after similar, senselessly tragic events, I always had a sense of detachment. They happened somewhere else. I didn’t know anyone directly involved. I’ve never been there.

But having grown up in the Boston area and run The Marathon just last year, the bombings this year became personal. I had been in the crowds and experienced the joyous electricity among the spectators as a kid, and I was finally able to fulfill a lifelong goal of being the focus of that excitement as a competitor in 2012. I can say the commitment and multiple years of training and preparation it takes to get to the starting line as a runner is matched only by the years of commitment and encouragement provided by a runner’s friends and families. Friends and families that were ripped apart for simply offering encouragement – 26.2 miles of beautifully loud and raucous encouragement - where it is needed most.

I keenly understood many aspects surrounding this event, and when I first heard of the bombings, my response was intensely furious. I’ve got to do something! Instinctively, I wanted the perpetrators brought to justice. If I were being honest, I wanted an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, severed limb for severed limb. But, honestly, what could I do?

In 2 Chronicles 20:1-30, the king of Judah, Jehoshaphat, is faced with disaster thanks to an impending invasion by overwhelming army, and he’s wondering what to do. “Alarmed, Jehoshaphat resolved to inquire of the Lord” (v3), and he prayed intensely before concluding with this appeal to God: “For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you” (v12). 

The Lord answered “Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out and face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you” (v17). The next day, as the people of Judah “began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushes” against the invaders (v22), and the armies completely annihilated each other (v23). There is no mention of Judah’s people lifting a finger during the battle, only their voices. 

Whether it’s an invading army, mad bombers, natural disasters, a cancer diagnosis, bullies, or a host of other things that make hearts quake with fear, what can you do? We cannot control what might happen to us. As Jehoshaphat said, we don’t have any power over those things, and we should acknowledge as much by praying to the One who does.

The only control we have is how we respond to the situation. And if you are searching for victory, that response should include prayer, praise and perseverance, as the Lord does His work.

Influence

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I grew up surrounded by the unique and very distinct Boston accent. It sounds like this, and please, don’t try this at home; I am a professional: “Pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd.” (Bonus Bostonian dialect lesson: The term “wicked” means “very, very,” as in “That scientist from Hahvahd is wicked smaht.”) R’s on the end of my words and syllables didn't exist, since that was the way everyone around me spoke.

So when my accent and I moved to North Carolina State University, I sounded just a wee bit different from the locals. “Where y’all from?” was the initial response. (Bonus southern dialect lesson: “y’all” is one person; “all y’all” is a group of people.) Once someone knew I was from the Boston area, the very next thing out of someone's mouth would be: "Hah! So do y'all paaaaahhk your caaaahh in Haaaahhvaaaahhd yaaaahhd?" 

After being totally immersed in Southern culture for almost a year, my R’s reappeared occasionally. I even developed a slight drawl. Like when I got a flat – I had to change the “tar” instead of the “tie-ah.”  

When I came back to Boston, friends would say “Sean, wheah you been? You sound wicked Southern.” Back at school, friends would drawl, “I reckon you been back in Boston. Y’all sound funny.” Back and forth I went between accents and dialects without consciously realizing I was adapting and changing based on what I heard from those people around me. Although I liked sounding, and therefore being, different from people, I was insecure enough that I didn't want to be that different.

The more we are around someone or a particular group, the more likely we are to be influenced by them, consciously or not. We start to act like them, pick up certain habits, and repeat what they say. Kids mimic their parents. Employees act like the boss to advance. We try to fit into the crowd.

… which becomes a problem when the influence of those people causes us to drift away from God. As Paul warns, “Bad company corrupts good character” (1 Corinthians 15:33). As my Southern friends might say, “Ornery people’ll make yuh ornery, and that’ll git y’all in a whole mess of trouble.”

What kind of sway are people having on you, and do you realize it? Because when it comes to the influence other people have on the way you live, the way you act, and the way you talk, all y’all bettah be wicked caheful.

Thorns

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When a wild rose grew up and bloomed unexpectedly in the hedge at the edge of our yard, we decided to relocate the rose to a more prominent location near the front of our house. Then, two stems turned into a bush, and its roots began to spread. New stems began sprouting out away from the bush over a larger and larger area, consuming more real estate than we ever intended. The rose bush had to be removed, which meant dealing with thorns.

Although I had thick gloves on to protect my hands, the thorns cut into my forearms and stabbed me in the torso as I wrestled to remove the bush. It’s as if the thorns knew specifically where I had minimal protection, and attacked me in those weak spots.

Some people are referred to as “thorny” for a reason. These are the people we wish we didn’t have to deal with, but just cannot avoid, like classmates, co-workers, clients, neighbors, and maybe even family members. Their words slash us. Their actions tear at us. Sometimes their mere presence intimidates us. And no matter how we try to protect ourselves, our vulnerable spots end up hurt.

We spend an exorbitant amount of time focused on the thorns. We end up thinking about how to avoid them, or confront them, or survive being near them. Thorny people chew up a lot of mental real estate, consuming our thoughts and hindering other parts of our lives because we cannot stop replaying events in our head, exclaiming “I can’t believe what he did!” And the more we retell the story to others – “Can you BELIEVE what he said?!?” - the more established the thorn’s roots become in our minds.

Who is the thorny person in your life? 

Despite the prickly nature of some people, we are supposed to “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Luke 6:27-28). Thorny people should move us closer to Christ because they keep us humble, and provide opportunities to demonstrate His character when it is least expected. 

Loving, doing good, blessing, and praying for those people who hurt us enables us to release our grip on the situation, and place it in Jesus’s hands instead. Thorns only hurt when we wrestle with the rose bush. All that loving and blessing and praying enables us to get a glimpse of how Jesus views that person, and to realize that despite our focus on the parts of the bush that hurt us, every thorn does have a rose.

Boston

“It. Was. So. Much. Fun.” That was the first response – with an emphatic, whimsical pause between each word – when I asked runners what the Boston Marathon was like. I started asking about two years ago, before I had fully dedicated myself to the months of preparation ahead. I wanted to know what one of the most prestigious, challenging and demanding marathon courses in the world had in store for me.


I expected to hear about the hills on the course (the most famous one isn’t called “Heartbreak” for nothing). I expected to hear about how much their legs hurt after enduring the race. I expected to hear about how terrible training through a Montana winter to be race-ready in April would be.

But no.

The initial and immediate response from the Boston veterans uplifted and encouraged me.

When I finally participated in the 2012 Boston Marathon, my legs screamed in pain because the hills were brutal, and the withering heat near 90 degrees made me wilt, and I ran my worst race since junior high.

And yet when people started asking me how the race went, I found myself echoing that happy first response. Running through the midst of a 26.2 mile tailgate party, with thousands upon thousands of people cheering and encouraging you on, mile after mile, affects you like that. I think if I had smelled even a whiff of negativity when I first starting asking about Boston, I would have given up on the marathon idea, and therefore, would have missed out on pure joy, in spite of all the difficulties.

It probably shouldn’t be surprising, then, that Jesus did not mention the potential troubles, pain, and suffering the disciples could be in for when He first asked them to follow Him. After all their time together, Jesus did not say “In this world you will have trouble” until His last day on earth (John 16:33). Up to that point, I would think the disciples had been a fearful mix of awe, wonder and amazement. But initially, I think “Follow me” probably sounded joyful, playful, and even whimsical, the same way runners told me about Boston.

So the next time I find myself on the verge of discussing my Christian faith, I’m going to try and start with some version of “It. Is. So. Much. Fun.” Because I don’t want someone else to miss out on all the fun.

Ringing Rocks

Ever listened to a pile of rocks? Individually, a rock may thud or clicked when struck. But if you put the right pile of rocks together, they can make music in a variety of notes and tones. The Ringing Rocks, near Pipestone Pass east of Butte, not only look different from the other rocks in the area, this jumble of various sized chunks of rock and nooks and cracks and shapes sound different, too. In fact, due to their high iron content, they don’t sound like rocks at all. When struck with a hammer, the rocks in the pile chime and resonate like bells.


Each ringing rock sounds different. The sound varies depending on the rock’s size, and the size of the gaps formed by the other rocks surrounding it. To silence one of the rocks, just isolate it from the pile. Then it sounds like every other rock. No chime. No bell sound. No point in trying to find the right combination to tap out a rockin’ version of Stairway to Heaven, dude.

My Bible study small group bears a striking resemblance to that pile of rocks. As members have come and gone, our backgrounds and life experiences have been widely diverse: plumber, lawyer, engineer, safety professional, human resource manager, analyst, computer geek, politician, electrician, stay-at-home dad, musician, etc. If God had not put us misfits together, most of us may never have crossed paths, let alone unconditionally loved each other.

Over the 11 years the group has been meeting, our diversity has helped us all complement each other. One’s strength helps overcome another’s weakness. One’s experience informs and teaches another. One’s inspiration helps another press on. One’s knowledge expands another’s understanding. Without their support, I am sure someone else would be writing these devotional-like messages each month, not me. The group has helped each of us become better fathers, better husbands, and better Christians so we at least have some idea about how to act and react with the world around us, no matter how tough it gets.

We all need to be part of some kind of group that provides support, insight, warning, correction and encouragement, because “as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17). The Lord did not intend for us to be isolated individuals because a single lump of iron can’t do much. But together, we can start to become formed into who He wants us to be. The right group’s support can even help a seemingly dull, hard, irregular and rock-like individual make beautiful music.

Tear jerker

The tears caught me off guard, especially since they were mine, and I was trying to speak. As part of the LIFE 401 Sunday School class at Life Covenant Church, we were supposed to be describing how our relationship with Jesus started, and what it’s meant to each of us. I had told different pieces of my story many times . . .

Raised by a single mother who made me go to church as a kid, but I didn’t want to. In my late 20’s, my future wife gave me a Bible. Not to seem ungrateful, I started reading it cover-to-cover, slogging through in over two years. During that time, I got married and started my own business, as an over-analytical bundle of nerves and doubts.

The very same week I finished the last verse of Revelation, I attended a spiritual retreat, and suddenly, everything in the Bible made sense. Jesus spoke to me directly, accepted me and loved me. From that moment on, I desperately needed Him. I still have my doubts and fears, but thanks to my faith in Him, they are short-lived. Even though I’m still learning about Him years later, I can tell Jesus is watching over me because I put my trust in Him. I have no other explanation as to why things have worked out the way they have, and it’s been just outstanding.

A tear-jerking story? May not seem like it, but I have brought myself to tears every time I have been invited to speak to groups of people about what Jesus means to me.

Pop quiz: What do the movies Finding Nemo, Up and even Despicable Me all have in common? Not only are they animated movies, but they all opened my tear duct spigots. Bonus points if you realized another common thread includes a father or a father-figure trying to protect and connect with lost or rejected kids.

I never got to experience that, because my parents separated before I started pre-school, thanks to Dad’s unfaithfulness. After my cloudburst in LIFE 401, I realized my testimony actually begins there – the reason why a single mother was raising me by herself.

And that’s why I cry tears of thanks whenever I talk about Jesus.

Where my biological father offered rejection, God accepted me. When I got left out, He chose me. When I got abandoned, He invited me into His family. “God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure” (Ephesians 1:5, NLT). Those words are so sweet to someone who never had a father. The more I know Jesus and the more I understand what He did for me, the more grateful and thankful I become.

*Sniff*

. . . can someone pass the tissues?