Vegas

“So, we’re planning on taking Todd’s RV to St. George for some golf on a long weekend down where it’s warm. It’s going to be like a mini retreat. Some fellowship, some study, some reflection, Steve’s bringing his guitar. Just some good Godly time on the road with the group.” My men’s small group had decided to make a road trip for a little getaway. Seven guys, one RV, 780 miles and one God. Those numbers sounded pretty good to me.

During the trip, however, it didn’t take long for God to be pushed aside. The RV became more like a traveling locker room, in language, attitude and smell. After 10 hours on the road and an entire day on the golf course, the supposed focus of our trip – God – had barely been mentioned. That evening, someone hatched an idea to head south to Las Vegas instead of staying in St. George for another golf day. Vegas was so close, so easy to get to, so tempting. But if we hadn’t made the Lord the focus of the trip up to this point, we sure weren’t going to now.

Until, of course, He stepped in.

While making a 50-point turn at a gas station, Todd caught the back corner of his RV on a concrete post, partially tearing the rear wall away from the rest of the vehicle. Daylight shined clearly through three of the four sides along the perimeter, meaning we were stranded until it got fixed. Tempers flared, and frustration boiled over.

God forced us to stop and reconsider why we were supposed to be on this trip. Before the Lord leads us beside quiet waters and restores our soul, He makes us lie down in green pastures (Psalm 23:2-3, my emphasis). Oh, He made us lay down all right, so that we had nowhere to go, no way to get anywhere, and nothing to do, until we asked Him to join us. Our quiet waters and green pastures were outside of an RV repair shop in the middle of the desert. While waiting for the rear end to be re-attached, we finally got together, apologized to each other and to Him, and invited Jesus along for the trip home.

On the way back, we had some fellowship, some reflection, some study, and sang some songs while Steve played guitar, like a mini retreat. Just the way God wanted the trip to be in the first place.

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.

Due Date

With just a snippet of information, I knew the future. Holding the unopened envelope up to the bright sun, two letters written by an ultrasound technician – “rl” – became visible, and just like that, I knew the gender of our baby. My still-pregnant wife questioned what exactly I thought I was doing . . . since I apparently forgot our conversation from several minutes earlier about not finding out the baby’s gender.

Once I glimpsed the contents of the envelope, I knew a daughter was coming into our lives. But precisely when she would arrive remained somewhat of a mystery. Doctors took into account gestational information, used high-tech gadgets to peer into my wife’s womb, listened to the strength of the heartbeat, and then announced the date they predicted our daughter to arrive. But despite all that brain power and technology, any family can tell you how often babies are actually born on their due dates.

Listening to the preacher who emphatically predicted Jesus’s return on May 21, 2011, I couldn’t help but draw parallels. He knew one snippet of information: Jesus is coming back to Earth (Revelation 19, Acts 1:1-11, 1 Thessalonians 4:16). Then using various calculations and estimations, he supposedly peered into the Scriptures and predicted the date Jesus would arrive.

Predicted due dates are notoriously slippery things, gestationally and spiritually. Gestationally, they rarely pinpoint the exact date of birth, often missing the mark by days, weeks, and even months. We had been told throughout our pregnancy to expect a baby in October. Our daughter arrived in August – a month and a half early. And, yes, her abrupt arrival did catch us off guard.

Spiritually, predicting the date of Jesus’s return so slippery, it’s like trying to walk upright using roller skates on a steeply-pitched sheet of smooth ice covered with grease-coated banana peels. “No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Matthew 24:36, my emphasis). Instead of focusing on and trying to figure out the specific date of His return, we are told to continually “be ready, because the son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him” (Matthew 24:44), kind of like a baby abruptly arriving sometime during the last trimester.

Both a baby and Jesus will appear on the scene whenever God determines the time is right according to His master plan, whether or not we have prepared for either event. Based on my experience with our daughter’s birth, it is no coincidence that Paul warns us, “the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night . . . suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman” (1 Thessalonians 5:2-3).

Sidney

Sidney sits in the far eastern edge of Montana, surrounded by wide open, vacant spaces. Its “airport” consists of four walls, a roof, and a waiting area about the size of a large living room. It is the extreme, 180 degree opposite of the enormous, crowded airports I am used to travelling through. Flights depart from Gate 1, a door out to the tarmac. There is no Gate 2.



http://www.richland.org/


Being so used to the bustle of larger airports, it unnerved me to walk in to an airport, no matter how small, and immediately realize I was totally alone. Well, almost alone. I interrupted a woman behind the desk using the telephone. “Hold on,” she murmured into the receiver when she saw me enter, then she called out with a smile, “Hey. You must be Sean.”

Caught off guard, I froze, and looked at her quizzically. People at the check-in counters in airports don’t know my name until I tell them, and they certainly do not act like they knew I was coming.

But this was Sidney. “You’re the only one flying out today. So, you’re the only name on the passenger list.” She laughed and waved me in, like she was welcoming me into a party. “C’mon in!”

Oddly, this woman in the middle of nowhere, whom I had never met before, acted so familiar toward me. She only knew my name and where I was going. But she was welcoming, friendly, and happy to see me.

Imagine the welcoming God will give each of us, since He knows so much more about us, and is intimately familiar with each of us. After all, He says, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you” (Jeremiah 1:5, NIV). Because He made us, He knows intimate details about each of us, like the exact number of hairs on our heads (Matthew 10:30, NIV). To be “known” by God goes far beyond knowing just our names.

But to be known by Him requires something on our part, too: “If one loves God truly [with affectionate reverence, prompt obedience, and grateful recognition of His blessing], he is known by God [recognized as worthy of His intimacy and love, and he is owned by Him]” (1 Corinthians 8:3, AMP).

If we truly love God, He’ll be waiting to greet us. He will have already written our names on His list, allowing us to pass through Gate 1 on our journey to our eternal home.

The Last Mile

I was running out of time and ready to give up. Coasting easily to the finish sounded so tempting, and after 12 miles of a 13 mile race, my legs pleaded to just stop. But that guy several hundred yards in front of me . . . my little competitive voice kept drifting up through the pain: “Go get him.” I had been trailing him for several miles, near the completion of the Missoula Half Marathon. Even if I didn’t pass this guy, I would have been satisfied with my time and effort.


I lost sight of him as he rounded the next corner a block away. Crowd noise and an announcer’s voice wafting through the trees meant the finish line was close. I inhaled deeply and looked down, beginning to accept the fact I would not catch the guy and could coast to the finish.

As I exhaled and looked back up, there on the corner stood a lone woman, clapping.

Now, most spectators along race routes say encouraging, yet banal, things as you run past – “Way to go,” “Nice job,” or “You’re doing great.” This woman, however, made eye direct contact with me as I rounded the corner, cocked her head toward the other guy, and said excitedly, “Oh yeah, I think you got him.”

As I rounded the corner, the guy came into view, no closer than before. But in that instant, I knew the mystery woman was right. With her encouragement, I felt suddenly energized, and began to pick up the pace. The guy got closer and closer and closer as I chased him down, eventually churning past him without letting up until the finish line. I didn’t win the race – not by a long shot – but it sure felt like I had. All it took was a little encouragement.

We feel run down at times. We just get tired. We know plenty of people in the same condition. But targeted and meaningful words, more than the usual trite words, delivered at the right time can be uplifting and invigorating. “Gracious speech is like clover honey – good taste to the soul, quick energy for the body” (Proverbs 16:24, MSG), energy for us all to push on a little farther than we think possible. “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up” (1 Thes. 5:11, NIV) so we can all finish strong together.

Power Aware

What if we could see the how much energy gets sucked up by our electric-powered machines, simply by plugging them in? That was the idea behind the Power-Aware Cord, one of Time Magazine’s Top 50 Inventions of 2010. Lights wrapped into the cord glow as electricity flows through it. The more power a machine draws, the brighter the cord glows, so a person could actually see the highest contributors to their electricity bill. According to Time, researchers discovered that making the electricity “visible” alerted people to the items that used the most power, so they could adjust their habits and uses accordingly.

What’s the biggest energy drain on your life? For me, the all-too-easy, but honest, answer in the past several months is “Work has swamped me,” and made me too busy to focus on much else. I’ve felt impatient, cranky and snippy. I probably glowed as I burned all that energy, a beautiful hue of angry, frustrated red. Ironically, the more energy I expended at work to try and beat back the mounting aggravation, the more frustrated I felt, which irritated me even more.

But I should have known better. For years, I carved out some time during lunch to read the Bible. During this recent stretch, guess what I continually skipped doing? When I take back some measure of control over my schedule and force myself to read Scripture despite everything trying to squeeze it out, the turbulence of the day smoothes out.

Just this week, I was supposed to participate in a conference call that would have sucked up another hour I did not have to spare. After stealing a few quick minutes with the Word just before the call, I joined in. However, several key participants mysteriously did not call in. So the call was canceled after about 10 minutes. And I felt brighter, lighter and energized.

Every time we read the Bible, we are “growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so (we) might have great endurance and patience” (Colossians 1:10-11). As we grow in that knowledge, God also uses His Word to teach, rebuke, correct and train us (2 Timothy 3:16), which brings to light those areas where we have allowed ourselves to drift away from Him and grown dim, so we can adjust accordingly.

The more we read, the more we grow. And the more we grow, the more we glow, because we get plugged into the ultimate, inexhaustible power source. What are you plugged into?

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?