I spent most of my week sick, and working. Not a lot else. Oh, I also spent some of my week feeling guilty. Guilty, because I had to come face to face with my own mountain of inadequacy. This week I met my “enemy” and we grappled in a battle royale for my soul.
My enemy came by this week…we had dinner. There were no poor words exchanged, no violence to be witnessed. In fact, the entire situation for you, that lead heroic or adventurous lives, was not at all like that. It was simply a reminder of a very painful relationship -- one that I had tried to stuff down in the corner of my smile. And in one look, a glance, and a one sided conversation, I found myself face to face with my enemy -- Mono e mono.
This enemy wasn’t the epitome of evil. I wish he was… it would make it easier to condemn him. Throw him in jail… condemn him to hell… or just be plain rude to him. Some days I think it would be better to live in Colorado Springs because stuff is much more black and white there. But my enemy won’t go to jail for manslaughter. Or be the title on a horror film one day. He probably won’t even get past his own mediocrity. This guy simply annoys the piss out of me. Let me tell you why, a little bit. First of all, every conversation I’ve had with this person is one sided… It’s all about him, what’s going on, and what his deal is (or, what his deal with me, is). Also, there is something about this guy that just pushes every button on my console. Something about his demeanor, about the way he talks just flips me out. Just because of our history… if his name comes up it makes me turn my fist up and recite like Jerry did in the 90’s… “Newman!” My enemy.
I call myself a Christian. If someone were to say “you call yourself a Christian?” I’d say yes. I feel strongly toward God giving me grace. I feel strongly about myself giving grace. There are all sorts of scriptures that back me up on that. However, I don’t like to be the bad guy when it comes to my own faith. When the question is asked “do you call yourself a Christian?” I don’t like to be the person that sheepishly answers “yes,” because I know very well what I did wrong. Or what I want to sidestep. Or who knows!?!
So I have come to understand that I have a very sacred relationship with my enemy. Because, every time my enemy comes by and elbows me in the ribs, I am face to face with my own searing painful outlook on this person. I can’t imagine that this person doesn’t know that his very existence is a thorn in my side! However, the thought of him being oblivious to that only feeds my fire to burning man proportions. And I know Jesus’ voice is trying to help by saying, “Forgive him,” “Let it go,” “Turn the other cheek.” But for some reason, all it does is indicate how far I fall short. My relationship to my enemy is sacred because his existence makes me very aware of how much of a prick I am.
Christ talks about our need to forgive others. And when I’m in this state, it seems to always be coupled with a looming spiritual fist. Mt 6:14 15 - For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. Mt 18:35 - This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart. Mr 11:25 - And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.Lu 6:37 - Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Lu 11:4 - Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation.To me, there’s a theme bubbling up here. It seems forgiveness is important to God… our forgiveness is contingent on our own forgiveness of others. I love that God is into keeping us accountable to loving our neighbor, except why does our neighbor have to be such a jerk?
Our neighbors, our enemies are all around us, telling us where we are on the forgiveness meter. Those who are forgiven are a non issue… those that aren’t, aren’t. I read a short thought from Anne Lamott this week in regard to her own enemy… her dead mother. She Writes:I put the brown plastic box of my mother’s ashes in the closet as soon as it came back from the funeral home, two years ago, thinking I could at last give up all hope that a wafting white robed figure would rise from the ashes of my despair and say, “Oh little one, my darling daughter, I am here for you now.” I prayed for my heart to soften, to forgive her and love her for what she did give me – life, great values, a lot of tennis lessons, and the best she could do. Unfortunately, the best she could do was terrible, like the Minister of Silly Walks trying to raise an extremely sensitive young girl, and my heart remained hardened toward her.
So I left her in the closet for two years to stew in her own ashes, and refused to be nice to her, and didn’t forgive her for being terrified, furious, clinging, sucking maw of need and arrogance. I suppose that sounds harsh. I assumed Jesus wanted me to forgive her, but I also know he loves honesty and transparency. I don’t think he was rolling his eyes impatiently at me while she was in the closet. I don’t think much surprises him: this is how we make important changes – barely, poorly, slowly.
I’ve spent my whole life trying to get over having had Nikki for a mother, and I have to say that from day one after she died, I liked having a dead mother much more than having an impossible one. I really loved her, and was proud of some heroic things she had done with her life. But she was like someone who had broken my leg, and my leg had healed badly, and would limp forever.
I couldn’t pretend she hadn’t done extensive damage – that’s called denial. But I wanted to dance anyway, even with a limp. I know forgiveness is a component of freedom, yet I couldn’t even after she died grant her amnesty. Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back. You’re done. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you want to have lunch with the person. If you keep hitting back, you stay trapped in the nightmare.
Today I got the brown plastic box of ashes out of the closet. I sat with it on my lap. The pouch on my belly is nice for holding children, so I let my mother sit there for a few minutes. I don’t actually forgive her much yet but I definitely was not hating her anymore. Grace means you’re in a different universe from where you had been stuck, when you had absolutely no way to get there on your own.
When it happens – when you stop hating- you have to pinch yourself. Jesus said, “The point is to not hate and kill each other today, and if you can, to help the forgotten and powerless. Can you write that down and leave it by the phone?” so I picked up my mother’s ashes, and put them on a shelf in the living room, and stood beside them for a while.
I thought I had forgiven this enemy of mine. But the problem is, he just keeps coming back into my life. I wish I could leave him in a closet for 2 years, wait for me to not hate him anymore. But the reality of life is, our enemies come in, break our legs, and leave us limping. Then they mosey down the street in front of us with smooth steps. As I was reading this, I began to understand that forgiveness is the goal. Jesus wants us to reach the goal. But we can’t put ourselves in hell if we are not there yet. I think what was so strong to me is understanding that if I need time to deal with my limp, if I need to not be around my enemy so that I can hate him less… that’s OK, that’s not un-forgiveness it’s moving toward forgiveness. It’s called “Giving grace.”
All of us today have an enemy, a “Newman”, a “Nikki”. We have a box that has been placed in the closet to heal, we have a desire to move it to the living room shelf and be able to stand near it. To hate it less. To follow Jesus’ words. And, ultimately forgive. In the meantime, we may need grace for our grace. Time for our ashes to stew for a while. But Jesus loves us and is holding our hand as we experience our humanity. Our need for grace, and our need to give it. Today… let’s try to do both.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
Old Headlines... Breaking News
I'm not a big magazine person.
The only time I pick up a magazine is really at the hair place to find what sort of new back-lit 80's cut I want. I never read Newsweek. Never have. It stays on the magazine shelf next to Time, Life, People just to the right of Cosmo and to the left of Men's Health. Yet the magazine, Newsweek, knows what sells during this time of year. Controversy! And not just any controversy, controversy of faith. As I peruse the magazine aisle I see how I can get abs in six weeks. I see 10 things that men crave in bed. I see the man of the year, and Britney's bald head… And then I see a headline that is nearly 2000 years old. “Did Christ Rise From the Dead?” This year it had to do with bones, last year it had to do with the “Davinci Code”, the years previous they questioned whether the Bible is really accurate…I caught a glimpse of next year's cover and they're working on a theory that the spikes were really rubber, right now they are setting up a documenting process starring David Blane in a re-enactment of “The Passion”. But the question that gets asked, the question that sells Newsweek, is the very question certain people didn't want you to ask nearly 2000 years ago. 'Was Jesus Resurrected?'
In Matthew it says 'The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate "Sir," they said, "we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, 'After three days I will rise again. 'So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first."' So they stationed a guard to keep watch. They didn't think that it would happen, a man rising from the dead. They just thought that those crazy fishermen would be nuts enough to drag a dead body out of his grave and make some grand claim of resurrection.
When whatever it was that happened that night, happened, the guard came racing back from the tomb to say that it was empty. According to Matthew, the Chief Priests and the Pharisees bribed them to spread the rumor that the disciples had stolen the corpse under cover of darkness. Pocketing the cash, the soldiers did as they were told, and "this story," Matthew concludes, made 'Newsweek'. And it's been making Newsweek for nearly 2000 years.
What happened to the body? Turns out the gospels don't have much to say about how the body of Jesus disappeared from the tomb. All that is said is, by the time the women got there, the stone had been rolled back and it was empty. What followed was chaos – dim figures flickering through the dawn, voices calling out, the sound of running feet. When the women got back to Jerusalem and gasped it all out to the disciples, Luke says that the disciples considered their words "an idle tale and they did not believe them." The cover of Newsweek seems to be much more plausible than a dead man rising.
Who knows what the truth of it was? Maybe like a mystery novel "Night of the Jesus Snatchers", somebody really did steal the body at night while the guards were asleep, and Matthew is only attempting to explain it away. Or maybe the tomb was empty because Jesus had never been there in the first place but was just thrown into a common ditch with the two thieves who were crucified with him. Or maybe it is the New Testament account with its picture of confusion and disbelief that rings most authentically – The thing is, no one may ever know because nobody was there to see it.
The Magazine Article is written. It is a story of a guard standing outside of an empty tomb. Nothing is in there. Nothing but cloth. This guard has been bribed to lie to you…or maybe not. Answering your question… “Was Jesus Resurrected? Is He alive?” You ask, “WHERE IS THE BODY?”… and he tells you the disciples came while he was asleep and moved a huge rock and stole Jesus from his resting place. What do you think? It's pretty plausible.
The magazine aisle, however, rarely will include the earliest reference to the resurrection. That of Paul. Funny thing is, he makes no mention of an empty tomb at all. The fact of the matter is, in a way, it hardly matters how the body of Jesus came to be missing because in the last analysis what convinced the people that He had risen from the dead was not the absence of His corpse, but His living presence. And so it has been ever since.
Something happened. Something happened between Friday and today to create that chaos. Something happened that changed a denial ridden hothead fisherman named Peter. During the trial Peter had denied that he had ever known Jesus - Three times! Peter and the other disciples had anxiously met "together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews". Within days he was preaching with such extraordinary power that "three thousand people were added to their number that day" and baptized. Peter talked about the resurrection of the Christ, that he was not abandoned to the grave, nor did his body see decay. God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of the fact. Soon he was calling all hearers to repentance, healing the lame, challenging the Sanhedrin, and suffering persecution on behalf of this testimony. What happened? It is not just that something had happened, but that everything had changed. It is unconvincing to hypothesize that a non-event, a cipher, a story, or magazine article elicited this change. Peter met with the living presence of Jesus Christ.
Same story with Jesus' brother James…"Didn't believe in him" in John 7. But after he met with the living presence of the Christ, James became a major figure among those attesting to the resurrection. Mr. Doubting Thomas… The story of our lives… our twin. The man who said as many of us do, "Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Something changed in this man that led him to India to tell them about a living Christ who is risen!
The primary evidence for the resurrection today remains: changed lives, walking testimonies, people willing to proclaim the good news the world over.
I would love to convince you of "the facts." The Evidence! What really happened. I would love to play you a clip that made it solid in your mind. Or even write you a magazine article. But it actually doesn't matter. Because you can learn all you want about that fateful Easter Morning. But until you meet with the living Presence of Jesus, you won't know Easter. All you have is book knowledge; possibly a strong form of the latest headline news.
The fact is, you knowing the facts do as much good to your heart as a guard standing outside an empty tomb. It's empty…what do you need to guard? What are you guarding from? The fact is it is only from the inside out that change can happen; lasting change at least. It is only through meeting a living Jesus that the location of the dead body doesn't matter. It is only when you have experienced the Living Jesus, Easter actually takes off. It is only through meeting a living Jesus that your religion is no longer contingent on the latest findings in the news, but your heart begins making the news.
The only time I pick up a magazine is really at the hair place to find what sort of new back-lit 80's cut I want. I never read Newsweek. Never have. It stays on the magazine shelf next to Time, Life, People just to the right of Cosmo and to the left of Men's Health. Yet the magazine, Newsweek, knows what sells during this time of year. Controversy! And not just any controversy, controversy of faith. As I peruse the magazine aisle I see how I can get abs in six weeks. I see 10 things that men crave in bed. I see the man of the year, and Britney's bald head… And then I see a headline that is nearly 2000 years old. “Did Christ Rise From the Dead?” This year it had to do with bones, last year it had to do with the “Davinci Code”, the years previous they questioned whether the Bible is really accurate…I caught a glimpse of next year's cover and they're working on a theory that the spikes were really rubber, right now they are setting up a documenting process starring David Blane in a re-enactment of “The Passion”. But the question that gets asked, the question that sells Newsweek, is the very question certain people didn't want you to ask nearly 2000 years ago. 'Was Jesus Resurrected?'
In Matthew it says 'The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate "Sir," they said, "we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, 'After three days I will rise again. 'So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first."' So they stationed a guard to keep watch. They didn't think that it would happen, a man rising from the dead. They just thought that those crazy fishermen would be nuts enough to drag a dead body out of his grave and make some grand claim of resurrection.
When whatever it was that happened that night, happened, the guard came racing back from the tomb to say that it was empty. According to Matthew, the Chief Priests and the Pharisees bribed them to spread the rumor that the disciples had stolen the corpse under cover of darkness. Pocketing the cash, the soldiers did as they were told, and "this story," Matthew concludes, made 'Newsweek'. And it's been making Newsweek for nearly 2000 years.
What happened to the body? Turns out the gospels don't have much to say about how the body of Jesus disappeared from the tomb. All that is said is, by the time the women got there, the stone had been rolled back and it was empty. What followed was chaos – dim figures flickering through the dawn, voices calling out, the sound of running feet. When the women got back to Jerusalem and gasped it all out to the disciples, Luke says that the disciples considered their words "an idle tale and they did not believe them." The cover of Newsweek seems to be much more plausible than a dead man rising.
Who knows what the truth of it was? Maybe like a mystery novel "Night of the Jesus Snatchers", somebody really did steal the body at night while the guards were asleep, and Matthew is only attempting to explain it away. Or maybe the tomb was empty because Jesus had never been there in the first place but was just thrown into a common ditch with the two thieves who were crucified with him. Or maybe it is the New Testament account with its picture of confusion and disbelief that rings most authentically – The thing is, no one may ever know because nobody was there to see it.
The Magazine Article is written. It is a story of a guard standing outside of an empty tomb. Nothing is in there. Nothing but cloth. This guard has been bribed to lie to you…or maybe not. Answering your question… “Was Jesus Resurrected? Is He alive?” You ask, “WHERE IS THE BODY?”… and he tells you the disciples came while he was asleep and moved a huge rock and stole Jesus from his resting place. What do you think? It's pretty plausible.
The magazine aisle, however, rarely will include the earliest reference to the resurrection. That of Paul. Funny thing is, he makes no mention of an empty tomb at all. The fact of the matter is, in a way, it hardly matters how the body of Jesus came to be missing because in the last analysis what convinced the people that He had risen from the dead was not the absence of His corpse, but His living presence. And so it has been ever since.
Something happened. Something happened between Friday and today to create that chaos. Something happened that changed a denial ridden hothead fisherman named Peter. During the trial Peter had denied that he had ever known Jesus - Three times! Peter and the other disciples had anxiously met "together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews". Within days he was preaching with such extraordinary power that "three thousand people were added to their number that day" and baptized. Peter talked about the resurrection of the Christ, that he was not abandoned to the grave, nor did his body see decay. God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of the fact. Soon he was calling all hearers to repentance, healing the lame, challenging the Sanhedrin, and suffering persecution on behalf of this testimony. What happened? It is not just that something had happened, but that everything had changed. It is unconvincing to hypothesize that a non-event, a cipher, a story, or magazine article elicited this change. Peter met with the living presence of Jesus Christ.
Same story with Jesus' brother James…"Didn't believe in him" in John 7. But after he met with the living presence of the Christ, James became a major figure among those attesting to the resurrection. Mr. Doubting Thomas… The story of our lives… our twin. The man who said as many of us do, "Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Something changed in this man that led him to India to tell them about a living Christ who is risen!
The primary evidence for the resurrection today remains: changed lives, walking testimonies, people willing to proclaim the good news the world over.
I would love to convince you of "the facts." The Evidence! What really happened. I would love to play you a clip that made it solid in your mind. Or even write you a magazine article. But it actually doesn't matter. Because you can learn all you want about that fateful Easter Morning. But until you meet with the living Presence of Jesus, you won't know Easter. All you have is book knowledge; possibly a strong form of the latest headline news.
The fact is, you knowing the facts do as much good to your heart as a guard standing outside an empty tomb. It's empty…what do you need to guard? What are you guarding from? The fact is it is only from the inside out that change can happen; lasting change at least. It is only through meeting a living Jesus that the location of the dead body doesn't matter. It is only when you have experienced the Living Jesus, Easter actually takes off. It is only through meeting a living Jesus that your religion is no longer contingent on the latest findings in the news, but your heart begins making the news.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Reaching for Air
“Save me! Save me! Save me!” As you probably know this is a cry for help. Rarely do we hear or say these words. Only in an emergency. Those that hear this on a regular basis are 911 callers. Pastors, Parents, Lifeguards…. And they are all calling for someone to save them; A savior.
I’ve been a savior before. I can say that… but it wasn’t all that big of a deal. I don’t stand around thinking about how good of a person I am, or Ty Pennington isn’t standing outside ready to give me a new house. It actually didn’t feel all that good. I almost died in the process. The feelings associated with saving someone else’s life sometimes aren’t as patriotic as the firefighters of 9-11.
In the initial stages of my prime awkward years I was down in California. And I got to experience something that, within my 8th grade existence, was out of my dreams. You see, six months previous, I had been exposed to a movie that changed my entire life focus. It changed my priorities, my view of my life, my purpose, it even changed my language. My Uncle Brian from L.A. spoke to me on the phone and then when transferred to my mother asked her why I had a Southern Californian accent? “Oh that’s not the half of it;” she said “he’s talking like that, he’s started cutting up his clothes and making new ones, and he has picked up the electric guitar and says that he’s going to align the planets with music.” Apparently I was taking the movie “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” a little too seriously. Regardless, I was excellently tickled when we got to California and my Bill and Ted’s lifestyle could be enhanced with a trip to the water park. I had never been to one, and looked forward to it since I had seen Napoleon enjoy the monumental slides that shot you skipping across the water, to only pull the wedgee out of your butt and yell… “That was excellent!”
My older sister was in charge… which was nothing new (she perfected the role of “boss” at age 6). My parents weren’t with us. Instead, we were with my sister’s boyfriend, Eric, who was a Senior in High School, and his brother, Graham, who was two years younger than me.
After we had had our fill of most of the hydro tubes… or at least the lines, we saw a site that looked super fun. The Wave Pool! We saw tons of people enjoying the man made waves and said that this was for us. I guess there were a couple things that my Middle School mind should have picked up on…. We ran out into the pool which stops every seven minutes because, supposedly, that is the amount of time someone can be underwater without brain damage. That should have been my first clue. Secondly, we all swam out there and of course we went to the deep end because we wanted to be where the big waves were. Yet, all around us were people in inner tubes. Relaxing and having fun. After treading water for about five minutes we were getting excited…”It’s about to start!” And sure enough it did. The huge ceramic arm began its movement and the waves got crankin’. I would say 5-7 foot swells. Pretty cool. Weeeeee. Weeeee. Weeeee. Like most carnival rides, the idea of the ride seems to be much more fun than the actual ride. So after the 6th or 7th swell …we were bored. Welcome to the life of an 8th grade attention span. For us, it was time to go in. So we start swimming. And 3 minutes later, we aren’t anywhere closer to shore. All of us began to understand what the reality of undertow means. A little more panic enters the scene, as we all try to swim a little harder; to no avail. Not being a strong swimmer, but being a clever one, I realize that the bottom isn’t that far down… so I start bouncing off the bottom at an angle to shoot myself forward. This lets me gain some forward movement. At this time, I am exhausted from swimming…Bouncing seems to be less taxing. During one of my breeches, I look to my right and see Graham still struggling behind me. And, at this point, calling for help. Well, I scanned for possible help … and I looked over at Baywatch on the sidelines… It seems as though slathering sunscreen and flirting with the other lifeguards takes priority to saving my sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s life. I had to think fast.
At this point I believe I was well on my way to becoming an Eagle Scout, and though I did get my swimming merit badge, I did almost drown in the ice cold lake when it came to inflating my jeans around my neck. However, I guess Scouts instilled some bravery within me, so I took a deep breath and turned back and began bouncing toward Graham. I really don’t know if this is a technique, if it is, it wasn’t covered in the handbook. But I would take a breath, bounce down to the bottom, jump as hard as I could, throw Graham forward, and repeat. Finally we made it to the 4 feet mark and we all staggered in exhausted. And there I was, the 13 year old savior of Graham.
Thank you. Thank you… Oh it’s nice to be savior. You get all the accolades. You get all of the stained glass. But what if you need a savior… what if you have to dial 911. What if you have to call out, “Save me!” How embarrassing.
Yeah…waves and I don’t do well. Nine years later I needed a savior. It was 1997 the year of El Nino. Which in Spanish means, “The Nino”. It just so happens that I was on the shores of Southern California. And Surfing class was canceled due to the 10-15 foot swells. Class was just beginning, and I had just purchased an amazing wetsuit that was red. I felt like Spiderman and I didn’t know how the suit worked. I needed to try it. I never had a wetsuit on in the water, and I was thinking that perhaps my swimming life would be different if I wasn’t so cold. (Perhaps I could even inflate my scout jeans.) Our surfing instructor cancelled class because he thought we might not be able to handle the waves, but more he wanted to be the first out riding the powers of El Nino. But he offered to have us watch on the sidelines. Boring!
My friend, Kristina Bowis, hops in the water and tells me come on in. I had to try out my wetsuit, so like a Christmas child, excited, I enter the water. First cold… then… hey…. I just have cold tootsies. Total fun! The beach we were on was full of sharp rocks on the bottom, so we quickly went out where we couldn’t touch. And before we knew it, we were at the break-line--where the waves crash. Kristina sees a big wave coming and she tells me, “Here we go…” And we swim under it. Another big wave coming. She says “Here comes another”. Duck … and another duck. OK after the 6th one I start to get a little tired. And your mind does odd things when you’re tired and dodging things that have the potential to kill you. I tell Kristina that I’m going back.
At which point I turn around and instead of ducking under the wave that is about to crash. I actually take it full on. CRASH! I wrestle my body up to the surface. And I breathe once before another CRASH! Wriggling my body against El Nino!! I found my breaths shortening. The only way I could swim was on my back so I could keep breathing. Crash after crash I found myself sputtering and gasping in my panic. I thought of bouncing but I knew the floor was too deep. I remember seeing the shore 40 feet away and realizing that I wasn’t going to make it. I kept swimming for, I don’t know how long, in panic, the waves continued to crash and my heart and body was doing all it could to survive. Finally I felt the sharp rocks on the sea floor slicing my feet. The idea of tetanus and lockjaw never felt so good in my life. I placed all my weight on those sharp rocks and pushed off closer and closer to shore. I essentially re-enacted that movie scene where the guy staggers up on shore and as the wave hits him in the back, he crawls up exhausted.
I was a mess. Emotionally, physically exhausted. My classmates witnessed my ugly cry--Snot and saltwater coming out of my nose. Kristina had followed me in, and sat opposite me, like a counselor and in a cheery voice said, “For a minute there I thought I was going to have to save you.’ I didn’t know this but, it turns out Kristina was a life guard all summer the year previous. I sat there and contemplated my death. The thing that I kept saying was, “I didn’t even have enough breath to call for help… I didn’t even have enough time to pray.”
Have you ever had to fight for your life? To rely on someone else to save you? I was noticing on that shore once my adrenalin leveled off how sweet the air was when you know you are safe?
A friend of mine was talking to me the other day about some not so sweet smelling air. He was talking about the spiritual air that changes when certain people enter the room. Not B.O. or people with spiritual flatulence… I don’t even know what that would be. We were talking about those people that tend to enter into the room and immediately everybody’s actions change. The boss that enters the room and everybody looks busy. If I were to wear a Priest’s collar… and walk into the bar… would people change their language? The bumper sticker reads … “Jesus is coming, everyone look busy.” My friend described this person as big broad-shouldered, Mr. Should. When Should enters the room, everybody realizes what they should be doing. (muttering:) Oh man I need to be doing this I know I should be doing that.
Mr. Should does himself no favors either. “Shoulding” on everybody. Breathing the spiritual air of judgment. When he enters the room, he immediately thinks autobiographically applying whatever he learned in the past to your life. “This is what I did so this is what you SHOULD do. I know what you did wrong… You SHOULD do it right.” As long as there is a Mr. Should around, there are always people evading him. You don’t call them unless you’re in a good place. “I’m doing fine Mr. Should.” You don’t like being around them unless you have to.
John Bunyan the Author of A Pilgrims Progress wrote an allegorical tale of a man called “Christian” who went on pilgrimage to the Celestial City. At one point, he meets his buddy,” Faithful” who was telling him of his journey. See if you can recognize Mr. Should:
FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and whither bound. I told him that I am a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, "Thou lookest like an honest fellow; wilt thou be content to dwell with me for the wages that I shall give thee?" Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit. Eph. 4:22 I asked him then what was his work, and what the wages he would give. He told me that his work was many delights; and his wages that I should be his heir at last. I further asked him what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that his house was maintained with all the dainties in the world; and that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then I asked if he had any children. He said that he had but three daughters: The Lust of the Flesh, The Lust of the Eyes, and The Pride of Life, and that I should marry them all if I would. 1 John 2:16 Then I asked how long time he would have me live with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.
CHR. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?
FAITH. Why, at first, I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw there written, "Put off the old man with his deeds."
FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me that he would send such a one after me, that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him; but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after himself. This made me cry, "O wretched man!" Rom. 7:24 So I went on my way up the hill.
Now when I had got about half-way up, I looked behind, and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind; so he overtook me just about the place where the settle stands…
But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said, "because of my secret inclining to Adam the First"; and with that he struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward; so I lay at his foot as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy; but he said, "I know not how to show mercy"; and with that he knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by, and bid him forbear.
CHR. Who was that that bid him forbear?
FAITH. I did not know him at first, but as he went by, I perceived the holes in his hands and in his side; then I concluded that he was our Lord. So I went up the hill.
CHR. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law.
FAITH. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he has met with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed there.
Mr. Should in this case is Moses; drowning us in his dos and don’ts. I was noticing as I was thinking of Mr. Should, really, if Mr. Should walked into the room and I sniffed the judgment in the air… and all of the sudden started muttering “I should do this I should do that… I need to look busy….” I was noticing that it wasn’t Mr. Should that was doing the muttering…. it was me. That was my own should. Whether it was guilt, desire, or simply something I neglected. It wasn’t Mr. Should that was muttering. It was me. Which made me realize that I need to own it. Because it was my should. My “Moses” stomping me down. My “Moses” drowning me in my own muttering.
I don’t know about you, but I hate when my “Moses” breathes his bad breath all over me and lays me out. I hate when he enters the room and dunks my head under. I hate when I am so overwhelmed by my own judgment that I can’t breathe, or even pray, “Help”. Because I feel it is God that is doing the drowning.
Have courage today. God is not in the business of drowning us. God is in the business of saving. In fact, the word, “believe” is almost synonymous with the word, “save”. You are drowning and you see a piece of wood, a surfboard, or an inner tube. You would grab onto it and believe it to save you. That is why the Bible says to believe in Jesus Christ and you will be saved. Saved out of your own high waters of should and do. Rescued from your own personal Moses that would steal your air. You are the heir to air today.
Sunday, we celebrated Palm Sunday. A day in which people said, “Hosanna! Here comes the King of Israel!” A week later, possibly the same people yelled, “Crucify this King of the Jews!” It is the start of the holy week in which such a fickle people (such as us) found out who the true Rock is. Who the true Answer is, to be saved from the drowning of all the things that Mr. Should beats us silly with. Should will kill us like the mighty El Nino waves, if we don’t hold onto something today. I encourage you to make it Jesus Christ.
I’ve been a savior before. I can say that… but it wasn’t all that big of a deal. I don’t stand around thinking about how good of a person I am, or Ty Pennington isn’t standing outside ready to give me a new house. It actually didn’t feel all that good. I almost died in the process. The feelings associated with saving someone else’s life sometimes aren’t as patriotic as the firefighters of 9-11.
In the initial stages of my prime awkward years I was down in California. And I got to experience something that, within my 8th grade existence, was out of my dreams. You see, six months previous, I had been exposed to a movie that changed my entire life focus. It changed my priorities, my view of my life, my purpose, it even changed my language. My Uncle Brian from L.A. spoke to me on the phone and then when transferred to my mother asked her why I had a Southern Californian accent? “Oh that’s not the half of it;” she said “he’s talking like that, he’s started cutting up his clothes and making new ones, and he has picked up the electric guitar and says that he’s going to align the planets with music.” Apparently I was taking the movie “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” a little too seriously. Regardless, I was excellently tickled when we got to California and my Bill and Ted’s lifestyle could be enhanced with a trip to the water park. I had never been to one, and looked forward to it since I had seen Napoleon enjoy the monumental slides that shot you skipping across the water, to only pull the wedgee out of your butt and yell… “That was excellent!”
My older sister was in charge… which was nothing new (she perfected the role of “boss” at age 6). My parents weren’t with us. Instead, we were with my sister’s boyfriend, Eric, who was a Senior in High School, and his brother, Graham, who was two years younger than me.
After we had had our fill of most of the hydro tubes… or at least the lines, we saw a site that looked super fun. The Wave Pool! We saw tons of people enjoying the man made waves and said that this was for us. I guess there were a couple things that my Middle School mind should have picked up on…. We ran out into the pool which stops every seven minutes because, supposedly, that is the amount of time someone can be underwater without brain damage. That should have been my first clue. Secondly, we all swam out there and of course we went to the deep end because we wanted to be where the big waves were. Yet, all around us were people in inner tubes. Relaxing and having fun. After treading water for about five minutes we were getting excited…”It’s about to start!” And sure enough it did. The huge ceramic arm began its movement and the waves got crankin’. I would say 5-7 foot swells. Pretty cool. Weeeeee. Weeeee. Weeeee. Like most carnival rides, the idea of the ride seems to be much more fun than the actual ride. So after the 6th or 7th swell …we were bored. Welcome to the life of an 8th grade attention span. For us, it was time to go in. So we start swimming. And 3 minutes later, we aren’t anywhere closer to shore. All of us began to understand what the reality of undertow means. A little more panic enters the scene, as we all try to swim a little harder; to no avail. Not being a strong swimmer, but being a clever one, I realize that the bottom isn’t that far down… so I start bouncing off the bottom at an angle to shoot myself forward. This lets me gain some forward movement. At this time, I am exhausted from swimming…Bouncing seems to be less taxing. During one of my breeches, I look to my right and see Graham still struggling behind me. And, at this point, calling for help. Well, I scanned for possible help … and I looked over at Baywatch on the sidelines… It seems as though slathering sunscreen and flirting with the other lifeguards takes priority to saving my sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s life. I had to think fast.
At this point I believe I was well on my way to becoming an Eagle Scout, and though I did get my swimming merit badge, I did almost drown in the ice cold lake when it came to inflating my jeans around my neck. However, I guess Scouts instilled some bravery within me, so I took a deep breath and turned back and began bouncing toward Graham. I really don’t know if this is a technique, if it is, it wasn’t covered in the handbook. But I would take a breath, bounce down to the bottom, jump as hard as I could, throw Graham forward, and repeat. Finally we made it to the 4 feet mark and we all staggered in exhausted. And there I was, the 13 year old savior of Graham.
Thank you. Thank you… Oh it’s nice to be savior. You get all the accolades. You get all of the stained glass. But what if you need a savior… what if you have to dial 911. What if you have to call out, “Save me!” How embarrassing.
Yeah…waves and I don’t do well. Nine years later I needed a savior. It was 1997 the year of El Nino. Which in Spanish means, “The Nino”. It just so happens that I was on the shores of Southern California. And Surfing class was canceled due to the 10-15 foot swells. Class was just beginning, and I had just purchased an amazing wetsuit that was red. I felt like Spiderman and I didn’t know how the suit worked. I needed to try it. I never had a wetsuit on in the water, and I was thinking that perhaps my swimming life would be different if I wasn’t so cold. (Perhaps I could even inflate my scout jeans.) Our surfing instructor cancelled class because he thought we might not be able to handle the waves, but more he wanted to be the first out riding the powers of El Nino. But he offered to have us watch on the sidelines. Boring!
My friend, Kristina Bowis, hops in the water and tells me come on in. I had to try out my wetsuit, so like a Christmas child, excited, I enter the water. First cold… then… hey…. I just have cold tootsies. Total fun! The beach we were on was full of sharp rocks on the bottom, so we quickly went out where we couldn’t touch. And before we knew it, we were at the break-line--where the waves crash. Kristina sees a big wave coming and she tells me, “Here we go…” And we swim under it. Another big wave coming. She says “Here comes another”. Duck … and another duck. OK after the 6th one I start to get a little tired. And your mind does odd things when you’re tired and dodging things that have the potential to kill you. I tell Kristina that I’m going back.
At which point I turn around and instead of ducking under the wave that is about to crash. I actually take it full on. CRASH! I wrestle my body up to the surface. And I breathe once before another CRASH! Wriggling my body against El Nino!! I found my breaths shortening. The only way I could swim was on my back so I could keep breathing. Crash after crash I found myself sputtering and gasping in my panic. I thought of bouncing but I knew the floor was too deep. I remember seeing the shore 40 feet away and realizing that I wasn’t going to make it. I kept swimming for, I don’t know how long, in panic, the waves continued to crash and my heart and body was doing all it could to survive. Finally I felt the sharp rocks on the sea floor slicing my feet. The idea of tetanus and lockjaw never felt so good in my life. I placed all my weight on those sharp rocks and pushed off closer and closer to shore. I essentially re-enacted that movie scene where the guy staggers up on shore and as the wave hits him in the back, he crawls up exhausted.
I was a mess. Emotionally, physically exhausted. My classmates witnessed my ugly cry--Snot and saltwater coming out of my nose. Kristina had followed me in, and sat opposite me, like a counselor and in a cheery voice said, “For a minute there I thought I was going to have to save you.’ I didn’t know this but, it turns out Kristina was a life guard all summer the year previous. I sat there and contemplated my death. The thing that I kept saying was, “I didn’t even have enough breath to call for help… I didn’t even have enough time to pray.”
Have you ever had to fight for your life? To rely on someone else to save you? I was noticing on that shore once my adrenalin leveled off how sweet the air was when you know you are safe?
A friend of mine was talking to me the other day about some not so sweet smelling air. He was talking about the spiritual air that changes when certain people enter the room. Not B.O. or people with spiritual flatulence… I don’t even know what that would be. We were talking about those people that tend to enter into the room and immediately everybody’s actions change. The boss that enters the room and everybody looks busy. If I were to wear a Priest’s collar… and walk into the bar… would people change their language? The bumper sticker reads … “Jesus is coming, everyone look busy.” My friend described this person as big broad-shouldered, Mr. Should. When Should enters the room, everybody realizes what they should be doing. (muttering:) Oh man I need to be doing this I know I should be doing that.
Mr. Should does himself no favors either. “Shoulding” on everybody. Breathing the spiritual air of judgment. When he enters the room, he immediately thinks autobiographically applying whatever he learned in the past to your life. “This is what I did so this is what you SHOULD do. I know what you did wrong… You SHOULD do it right.” As long as there is a Mr. Should around, there are always people evading him. You don’t call them unless you’re in a good place. “I’m doing fine Mr. Should.” You don’t like being around them unless you have to.
John Bunyan the Author of A Pilgrims Progress wrote an allegorical tale of a man called “Christian” who went on pilgrimage to the Celestial City. At one point, he meets his buddy,” Faithful” who was telling him of his journey. See if you can recognize Mr. Should:
FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and whither bound. I told him that I am a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, "Thou lookest like an honest fellow; wilt thou be content to dwell with me for the wages that I shall give thee?" Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit. Eph. 4:22 I asked him then what was his work, and what the wages he would give. He told me that his work was many delights; and his wages that I should be his heir at last. I further asked him what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that his house was maintained with all the dainties in the world; and that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then I asked if he had any children. He said that he had but three daughters: The Lust of the Flesh, The Lust of the Eyes, and The Pride of Life, and that I should marry them all if I would. 1 John 2:16 Then I asked how long time he would have me live with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.
CHR. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?
FAITH. Why, at first, I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw there written, "Put off the old man with his deeds."
FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me that he would send such a one after me, that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him; but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after himself. This made me cry, "O wretched man!" Rom. 7:24 So I went on my way up the hill.
Now when I had got about half-way up, I looked behind, and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind; so he overtook me just about the place where the settle stands…
But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said, "because of my secret inclining to Adam the First"; and with that he struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward; so I lay at his foot as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy; but he said, "I know not how to show mercy"; and with that he knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by, and bid him forbear.
CHR. Who was that that bid him forbear?
FAITH. I did not know him at first, but as he went by, I perceived the holes in his hands and in his side; then I concluded that he was our Lord. So I went up the hill.
CHR. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law.
FAITH. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he has met with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed there.
Mr. Should in this case is Moses; drowning us in his dos and don’ts. I was noticing as I was thinking of Mr. Should, really, if Mr. Should walked into the room and I sniffed the judgment in the air… and all of the sudden started muttering “I should do this I should do that… I need to look busy….” I was noticing that it wasn’t Mr. Should that was doing the muttering…. it was me. That was my own should. Whether it was guilt, desire, or simply something I neglected. It wasn’t Mr. Should that was muttering. It was me. Which made me realize that I need to own it. Because it was my should. My “Moses” stomping me down. My “Moses” drowning me in my own muttering.
I don’t know about you, but I hate when my “Moses” breathes his bad breath all over me and lays me out. I hate when he enters the room and dunks my head under. I hate when I am so overwhelmed by my own judgment that I can’t breathe, or even pray, “Help”. Because I feel it is God that is doing the drowning.
Have courage today. God is not in the business of drowning us. God is in the business of saving. In fact, the word, “believe” is almost synonymous with the word, “save”. You are drowning and you see a piece of wood, a surfboard, or an inner tube. You would grab onto it and believe it to save you. That is why the Bible says to believe in Jesus Christ and you will be saved. Saved out of your own high waters of should and do. Rescued from your own personal Moses that would steal your air. You are the heir to air today.
Sunday, we celebrated Palm Sunday. A day in which people said, “Hosanna! Here comes the King of Israel!” A week later, possibly the same people yelled, “Crucify this King of the Jews!” It is the start of the holy week in which such a fickle people (such as us) found out who the true Rock is. Who the true Answer is, to be saved from the drowning of all the things that Mr. Should beats us silly with. Should will kill us like the mighty El Nino waves, if we don’t hold onto something today. I encourage you to make it Jesus Christ.
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