Thanks to Keith Johnson and Life Covenant Church for allowing me to give the sermon back in August.
It's all about communication using descriptions of sound from the Psalms. Trust me, I'm an acoustical engineer.
December 9, 2012
October 29, 2012
Sockeye Fishing Lessons
Her smile stretched as large as the sockeye salmon she
caught – big, broad, and beautiful. As I scooped my daughter’s fish out of the
water for her to see, I thought the tightening net would snap because of the fish’s
weight. After years of fishing for trout in the rivers and lakes around
Montana, fishing for salmon in Alaska was, literally and figuratively, an entirely
different animal.
Our friend Aaron gave us all the same instructions before we
started plying the waters. Turns out you don’t trick salmon into biting a hook
or a fly. You don’t delicately present your fly in a natural way, hoping not to
spook the fish. You don’t select the right pattern or color to dupe them.
Instead, you chuck this mass of metal upstream, where it
splashes in like a cannonball. The weights and hook bounce and drag on the
bottom, until the river pushes it just pass you. Then you heave the hook
horizontally out of the water with a sidearm motion . . . and hope the hook
happens to snag an unsuspecting fish in the mouth.
As rough and tumble as it sounds, there is a technique to
it, which Aaron explained and demonstrated to all of us many times over the
course of two days. When my wife and I were lucky enough to snag a fish, however,
his instruction evaporated from our minds, and we reverted back to what we knew
– trying to land a trout. The result: lots of Aaron’s tackle lost, and no fish.
But my daughter’s brain, and the brain of most kids, is like
a chalkboard. Her little mental eraser wiped away the instructions about catching
trout once Aaron started explaining how to catch salmon, and new instructions
appeared. She approached salmon fishing like the child she is - innocent and
unencumbered by any preconceived notions or I-know-what-I’m-doing pride, unlike
us adults.
September 30, 2012
My Aching Big Toe
It all started when the cast iron griddle fell off the shelf
and onto my foot, striking just above my left big toe. No bones broke or
fractured, but then again, nothing was ever quite right after that either. Even
though it happened over a year ago, my toe still aches from time to time when I
land on it just the wrong way.
And when my toe is in pain, I’ll shift my gait ever so
slightly to try and lessen that pain. That puts odd stress on my left ankle. Which
means my left hip starts to bother me. Then I’ll put more pressure on my right
leg as I limp to compensate, which causes my right knee to act up. Which means
my back gets thrown out of alignment because I end up moving in this weird,
herky-jerky motion as I hobble around. Who knew my big toe could make me a
physical wreck?
A foot problem causes a chain reaction that wreaks havoc
with many, many other parts of your body, primarily because the toes and the
foot are intended to provide stability to the rest of you. They are the
foundation on which you stand, and if they have a problem, you won’t stand correctly
for long.
What are you standing on, thinking it will hold you up? The
stock market, job, social status, bank account, friends or family name? They
might not be as stable over the long term as you think. People shift. Seasons
change. Things happen. So what or who do you rely on for stability when little things
go wrong, and start adding up to bigger and bigger problems, wreaking havoc
with your life?
Jesus said a person who comes to Him, hears His words and
puts them into practice “is like a man building a house, who dug down deep and
laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house
but could not shake it because it was well built” (Luke 6:47-48).
August 27, 2012
Litton
The story of Kip Litton is amazing. In the August 6, 2012
issue of The New Yorker, Mark Singer
details just how amazing, as this dentist went from overweight to running
marathons. Inspired, he set out to finish a marathon in less than three hours
in each state. To cover 26.2 miles in under three hours, while not utilizing transportation
with wheels, is a difficult and significant accomplishment. To do it repeatedly is astounding.
![]() |
| www.writingaboutrunning.com |
Litton started and maintained his own website to chronicle
his feats, which initially went unnoticed. However, for about a year when he
was 48, he averaged about one marathon per month, and traveled all over the
country to race. In many of these races, he finished near the top of his age
group. Incredibly, he actually won the West Wyoming Marathon outright.
And people did begin to take notice of Litton’s
performances. People like the overall fourth-place finisher at the Deadwood
Mickelson Trail Marathon. Litton’s time put him in third place overall. But the
fourth place finisher was actually in third place at the halfway point, and he swore
he did not get passed during the last half of the race. He would have noticed,
too – the last half of the course consisted of a six-foot wide trail.
Other runners, bloggers and race directors failed to find
Litton in the myriad of photographs taken during races, except at specific
timing checkpoints. People sleuthing the internet eventually figured out Litton
fabricated the entire West Wyoming Marathon that he supposedly won, from
creating the event website, to inventing the names of the other “participants”
and their times.
Litton was exiting each course between timing checkpoints,
utilizing transportation with wheels to travel to the next checkpoint, and then
re-entering the race. Once he crossed through the checkpoint, he repeated the
process. He was cutting the course, which is a running term for “cheating.”
As Singer concludes, “Litton’s story could have been a small
but admirable one: an out-of-shape Midwestern dentist who transformed himself
into a competitive marathoner. But he had insisted on transforming himself
further, inventing a heroic avatar, ‘Kip Litton,’ that couldn’t be sustained.”
Singer continues, “But whatever glory he felt was surely short-lived” as people
exposed him as a fraud.
What stories are we spinning to impress people, stories
based on deception and cheating, which only require more cheating and more deception
to maintain? What front or what mask are we putting up for people to see, when the
truth is actually very different? Whether stories or facades, they are still
lies.
And then the story won’t be so amazing.
July 2, 2012
Traces of God
Physicists wanted answers to a big question, so they
constructed the largest machine in the world to get them. The Large Hadron
Collider cost about $10 billion to build, consists of a 17-mile long underground
tunnel, and shoots 40 million protons per second toward each other through the
tunnel at 99.9999991% of the speed of light. The hope is to finally detect the
Higgs boson particle, nicknamed the “God particle” because it is predicted to
be the fundamental building block of everything in the universe.
![]() |
| Getty Images |
Although physicists dislike the “God particle” nickname, it
seems appropriate considering how He reveals Himself. Smack in the middle of
pain, grief, suffering and doubt crashing through our lives, we cry out “God,
where are you?” but we don’t get a clear answer. We want answers and relief in
a yoctosecond, but evidence of God’s presence can take years to see. It took me
over 20 years to finally understand my parents’ divorce was probably the best
thing to happen to my spiritual growth, despite the confusion and sadness I
experienced when I was a boy. I wanted answers, but got none at the time.
Similarly, despite direct involvement in some of God’s
mightiest miracles, Moses still needed reassurance that God would continue to
lead the Israelites through the desert after leaving Egypt. Even after holding
his hands up to part the Red Sea, Moses still had doubts about God. He pleaded
for answers from God, and wanted to see Him directly face to face.
“Then the Lord said, ‘There is a place near me where you may
stand on a rock. When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock
and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand
and you will see my back; but my face must not be seen.’”(Exodus 33:21-23).
May 1, 2012
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.
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.
April 10, 2012
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