Valentine's Day is Overrated

I haven’t always done the best of job at guarding my heart. Actually I’m not even sure what that means, and if I did I doubt that I would know how to do it. There’s a proverb that says to guard your heart above all else, so obviously its an important thing to do. I’m not talking about the muscle that pumps blood through our bodies and keeps us alive, though it is important to guard that too--Thank God for ribs. I’m talking about that part of us that lies at the core; that piece of you and me that gets all warm and fuzzy inside when your mom gives you a hug or your grandpa tells you a favorite story…or when that special someone looks at you and smiles. The heart. If I were to be reduced to my lowest form, like a fraction, what you would have left is my heart.
I think that the problem of guarding your heart lies in the fact that it is complicated, and though it can’t be solved with pen and paper it is sometimes just as complex and confusing as a mathematical equation. So, needless to say, dealing with my heart sometimes gives me the same feeling as doing calculus. I don’t know how and so I get frustrated.
Over the years I’ve had a few run-ins with the opposite sex. I’m not going to lie. I like girls. They’re pretty, they smell nice (girls smell like roses when they sweat), and they flip their hair. Not all girls are pretty by the same standards, some girls smell more like honeysuckle than roses, and some girls have short hair and can’t flip it. However there is one commonality between all females. They’re crazy. You might say that after that last statement that I haven’t learned much because that statement will most likely get me in trouble with the opposite sex. Allow me to explain.
My friend Courtney Vallentine, who is actually a guy, is one of my favorite people in the world. I believe that if you gave him a pirate ship with a crew of ninja turtles and nothing but chocolate milk to drink, he’d be happy. He’s a child at heart and loves the Lord. We share the same view on many things in life and he is one of my closest friends. Courtney Vallentine has a theory. I’m not sure if he made this up or if he got it from someone else, but either way I like it, and after telling him another sad sob story one day he told me this, “Bryne, guys are like waffles and girls are like spaghetti.” Yes. That makes perfect sense. He went on to explain to me what he meant. “Its like this: guys put things in categories. We put things in sections. When we see a girl we put them into a box of some sort. Like the little boxes in waffles. Your mom goes in the mom box along with grandma and your auntie. Your sister and that girl next door that you’ve known ever since you were able to remember go in the friend box. Then there are those girls that go into the girlfriend box. Every girl you ever meet will go into one of those boxes, and once they’re put there they can’t be moved easily. Kind of like syrup. Once you pour the syrup in and let it soak, it doesn’t really leave whatever box you put it in…until you eat it.” He looked at me with a smirk. “I’m hungry now buddy.”
“As odd as it sounds it makes sense my friend. Now tell me the spaghetti part. I want to know what that’s about.” My mouth perked up at the corners while thinking of the possibilities.
“Oh that one is easy. They’re absolutely bonkers.” He looked up at me with a smile and I nodded in agreement. “Their thoughts are tangled up and connected everywhere and to everything. Just like spaghetti noodles you know?” He twirled his arms together in front of him to illustrate this. “You can’t just pick out one noodle, you have to twirl the whole bunch together. We should order pizza. I’m feeling ninja turtle.”
I tell this story only to prove a point. Guys and girls are hopelessly different. Neither Courtney or I have the best of track records when it comes to girls (although he is now married...so he figured something out), and we are far from being any sort of experts on the matter, but I do think that he was onto something there. Not all guys are exactly like this, and girls, like the illustration showed, are definitely anything but understandable. I believe that this is ultimately where a lot of problems in relationships occur. This gap. This total disconnection of understanding from the opposite sex. We are attracted to each other, but completely unable to understand each other at times when it would be most beneficial. We’re not even in the same meal category.

***

My friend Courtney played a trick on me once. It was very creative, completely random, and quite thoughtful. I remember getting done helping out with a youth group, where I had most likely thrown a child or three into the sand of the volleyball courts, and then consequently got tackled in retaliation, when I walked out to my truck to head home. As I walked up, pulling my pockets out to empty the sand in them, I noticed that the hood was covered in brightly colored candies. I got a little closer and realized they were the Sweetheart Conversation Hearts. I searched everywhere for a note or a letter to explain who had sabotaged my truck like this, and I found nothing. I drove home without removing any of the candies thinking that they would fall off by themselves.
After a little bit of investigation on the matter I learned the next day that Courtney had done the dirty deed in hopes of framing a certain girl that I was dating at the time. It had worked long enough for me to return fire on her by putting Almond Joys on her car the next day. Anyway, I am very lazy and I forgot to clear off all the candy, and a few days later it rained. Then, within 10 minutes after the rain, (dang that New Mexico weather) the sun came out and baked the candy onto the hood of my truck.
I tried to pull off each candy heart and found them more than a little stuck. I gripped a little heart with my fingertips like a vice and strained with all the might my hands could, all the while growling at the stupid saying on the heart, “True love doesn’t let go!”. Finally, with a surprisingly loud crack, the heart flew off and I fell onto my butt in my driveway. I got up and rubbed my rear end and looked at my truck hood. A perfect green heart shape remained on my truck.



A pastor once said that the way dating works is horrible. He talked about how the average American has at least 5 major relationships before marriage. That can’t be healthy, because in each relationship a piece of your heart gets left behind and that by the time you get married you can’t even give your whole heart to your spouse because 5 chunks of it have been left with 5 different people. As I listened to his sermon on the topic I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to believe him. I’ve been in 3 major relationships already and the possibility that I’ve left 3 pieces of my heart behind scares me. However, as I stood looking at the crusted up green heart shape left on the hood of my truck I realized that maybe he was right.
But I started thinking about hearts and them being broken. And I thought about the fact that no matter how hard we try they keep getting broken…it’s either that or we harden them until they don’t feel anything. I thought about all of the things in this world that break our hearts--failed relationships, tragedy, dreams that don’t come true…the list is essentially endless. I thought of all the ways girls are crazy, and guys are dumb and how that mixture fails. And that when they do get together it usually ends up with broken hearts. And then I thought about how people like to say that Jesus fills the hole in our hearts….and that doesn’t sit well with me…because even so my heart gets broken. I don’t think that is the right metaphor to be used.
In fact, I’d venture to say that that metaphor is wrong…even if it is well intended. I think our God is bigger and better than that. In Ezekiel 36:26, God issues a promise: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” I like that better. Because God has fulfilled that promise-- 1 Peter 2:24 “He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by His wounds you have been healed.” Its because of this miracle--That God loved us and chose us--that we can move forward and press on. God not only saved us, but He renewed our hearts…and continues to do so.
So if you find yourself like me…unable to guard your heart…unsure of how to. Worried that it may be broken beyond recognition or repair, join Paul in this cry: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” Turn to Him. You won’t regret it. God is good--He will be your eternal Valentine.

Remember

Sometimes I think that I should've been born in the 80's—okay, so I WAS born in the 80's, but I wish that I'd lived to remember most of them. As it is I was only alive for 3 of those glorious years. But looking back at the pictures of my parents in the 80's; the hair, the colors, the cars—the shorts—it just makes me wish that I grew up then. And oh the music! There's something about hair-metal that grips me. I love the falsetto screams and guitar solos that ripped through the airwaves back then. If only I were alive for the 80's.

That being said, I thoroughly enjoyed the music that was played on the radio at work today. Someone in the back switched the radio from the pop-station with its incessant looping of Kesha, Lady Gaga, Lil' Wayne, and Justin Beiber, to the classic rock station. I was so happy. All day I sang along to bands like Def Leppard, Chicago, and Foreigner—but what really got me thinking was Journey. The song “Lights” came on, and for that 3 minutes and 11 seconds I stopped. I walked back to the break room and simply stopped to listen. It was beautiful. “Whoa ooohhh oh oh oh. When the lights, go down in the city, and the sun shines on the bay—ooh I wanna be there, in my city!” Those words played over the soft buzz of talking and the loud clinking of dishes in the kitchen at Cracker Barrel, and my heart sang the words along as my mind travelled back to when I was a kid in the truck with my dad on the way to Bonita Lake in Ruidoso. It made me think about all the good times I had with my dad and brother in the past—all the wood-hauling trips. The trips to Allsups. The smell of sawdust. My dad. His mustache. And I found myself smiling in the breakroom—simply reminiscing of those days when a trip to the lake with my dad was the one desire of my heart. PB&J's and Coca-Cola and orange powerbait. The smell of fish. Getting a nibble on my pole and reeling in moss-covered sticks. Getting nibbles on my pole and actually reeling in fish. My Mickey-Mouse pole. Dakota falling into the lake. Catching crawdads. Memory after memory flooded me as I sat in the breakroom and it was all I could do to keep from crying out of joy. I love my dad so much.

And it dawned on me that remembering things is a good thing. I'm not talking about having a good memory, but I'm talking about not forgetting the things that have passed before. The things that have occurred to make us who we are today. I think that we sometimes shy away from remembering things of the past because as fallen creatures we go too far and begin to live in the past rather than just remembering. But its important to remember things—in fact God mentions rememberance over and over again in His word: (Deuteronomy 5:15) “Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.” And again, (Deuteronomy 7:18) “But do not be afraid of them; remember well what the Lord your God did to Pharaoh and to all Egypt.” (Isaiah 46:9) “Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me.”

We tend to forget where we come from. We tend to forget what it is that made us who we are. When my dad calls me just to tell me that I have a bill to pay, or he calls to tell me to check the oil in my car. Or he calls me and tells me that the news says the roads are icy—instead of getting annoyed at these things I should remember that he loves me. Remember the time that he saved me from the port-a-potty because the door locked and I was too short to unlock it. I should remember the time that he carried me inside when I busted my knee. I should remember the countless times he baited my hook for me. Remember the hours he spent playing catch with me. The countless times he read stories to me at night.

I think that's why God always tells us to remember what He's done. To look back at the wonders of His power. To look back and remember it was Him that carried us through our troubles. And to remember that it is He who delivered salvation. This is why I will daily surrender to this one memory—I will daily remember this: (1 Corinthians 1:22-24) “Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.” I will remember that it was His body on that tree—broken for my transgressions—and I will remember that it was He that rose from the grave—it is Jesus that loves me.

Neverland

A blast from the past...something I wrote a few years back and have been reminded of since I got back from taking my own youth group to Lone Tree. Enjoy.

I’ve found Neverland. Its just as magical as you may imagine. The food is wonderful, your imagination is one of the most practical things you can own there, kids are often seen chasing bunnies, and fun is practically a requirement. However, its not found by following the second star to the left and on ‘till morning. It’s closer to second mountain to the left, down the dirt road ’till morning.

***

The rain is coming down, softly pattering all around the Capitan Mountains and making a pleasant noise to all who can hear it. I take a deep breath, my nostrils seeking the fresh smell of rain, but they are only greeted by the smell of horse manure and mashed potatoes. As I sit in the rodeo arena at Lone Tree Ranch, I am struck by what an odd sight I must be; Much like a Lost Boy.

***

I am sitting cross-legged in a puddle of poop-water-mud in the middle of a rodeo arena, wrapping ropes used for a game called “Human Foosball.” I finish one set of ropes and move on to the next, taking care to move around an extra-poopy puddle, and I plop down in the mud next to another set of rope. I sigh, and wipe mashed potatoes off of my blue water-polo cap, grateful that it was so good at repelling food from my hair and ears, and then begin to deftly wrap rope again. I take note of the stains that the bottoms of my cowboy boots are making on my camo shorts as I think with a smirk, “I wish my mom could see me right now.”

***

For the past two years, I’ve spent my summers at Lone Tree Bible Ranch. When I first decided that I wanted to work there I had absolutely no idea what I was in for. I just remembered going to the camp on winter retreats as a kid and climbing on the rock-wall and drinking hot cocoa. I learned how to ride a horse there.

***

^{I’ve always been that kid that follows the crowd. I remember in 5th grade it was the coolest} thing if you owned a yo-yo. We’d spend all recess learning tricks like walk-the-dog, the pendulum, and the high wire, all of which were extremely cool, and required skill of the most extreme sort to perform. I couldn’t do any of those, but I could make my (cheap) yo-yo go to sleep. My best friends Ryan and David were naturals and they led the recess yard in yo-yo skills; I followed along and became cool by association. I saved my allowance for a month so that I could get the best yo-yo on the market; it cost $20. I remember finally getting my awesomely neon-yellow yo-yo, and bringing it to school, only to realize that Ryan and David had moved on to hackey-sacks. I was devastated. Twenty bucks was no small amount to an 11 year old. For a month afterwards, hackey-sacking was the pastime of choice. One day Ryan called to tell me that he had just beaten the high-hackey score by ten. The new record stood at 327. About an hour later David called to inform me that the newest record was 340 hacks. My personal high score was 10.

***

I get up and throw the ropes over my shoulder, grab my battle savvy, potato and mud stained flag, and begin to walk down the road to the program office. On my way I pass a gaggle of girls talking incessantly and giggling like mad. I wave as I walk by, “Coo-coo cachoo!” And I am greeted by more giggles.

Oh middle school.

Middle school was a rough time for me as well. Following the crowd didn’t phase out for me in middle school. In fact, it probably flared up even brighter; Bleaching your hair was very cool. I did that. It was also cool to buy pizza at lunch and embarrassing to bring your own lunch, so of course I begged my mom to give me money everyday. Watching 'Friends' on T.V. was definitely in. Oh yeah, and Bod Spray was awesome, and much to my family’s nostrils’ displeasure, I practically bathed in that stuff.

I was lost among the throngs of kids; Lost in the endless system of who’s in and who’s not. I was growing up too fast and the faster I grew up the less aware I was that I was lost.

Like Neverland, Lone Tree tends to draw a certain kind of kid. Most of them come to camp looking for adventure. We provide that by the truckload. Some of them come because their friends invited them. Many come because they have a crush on someone else that’s already going. There are a lot of kids that come through camp that are caught in the same system I was; Lost Boys arrive at camp every week.

I think it was the summer before I became a senior in high school when I realized just how lost I was. I realized it at a camp called M-Fuge. M-Fuge is a place for youth groups to come together in a big city and do volunteer work for the community, and it’s amazing. That year I worked in the Children’s Ministry group for 6-8 year olds. Up until this point I had been sailing along, steadily becoming a pirate lost in the system.

There was a little boy that I was in charge of who had a bit of an attention-span problem; He didn’t have one. We were supposed to make a macaroni-Noah and the Ark which meant glue, macaroni, and focus to a certain degree. I had been working with this six year old for a few days and I knew that this would be a difficult task. We brought in our kids, sat them down, set out the paper with the dotted lines, set out the supplies, and began. Well, before we began we cleaned up the macaroni that was spilled nearly instantaneously, and then we began. I learned that day, that you never ever let a 6 year old with A.D.H.D. hold the glue. I washed that glue out of my hair later that night and the night after that, and again when I got home. The point is, that 6 year old boy got the macaroni Noah finished, and it was beautiful, and he gave me a monstrous hug before I left that day and said that he had fun.

I sat on my bunk that night thinking about the day’s events, and realized that the old me wouldn’t have been able to handle that. The old me wouldn’t have even tried to tackle the situation of the hyperactive boy with glue and macaroni. I realized in that moment that I was stronger than I had been. I realized that I mattered and that I could get things done

One of the Lost Boys found his way to Lone Tree a few summers ago. His name was Trevor. He was quiet and composed but mainly the guy was just shy. He was in 7^th grade, and he had come to camp with a friend, he told me, because it sounded cool. We hung out all week. He was in my group that I lead, and he seemed to think I was cool. I found out that he was scared of heights, and then talked him into conquering that fear by challenging the Alpine Tower, a 5-story tall climbing contraption, often referred to as a ‘big jungle gym’. I thought for sure he was going to conquer his fear of heights on that thing, but on his first attempt I didn’t even get to hook him onto the ropes. He fidgeted around for 30 minutes before telling me that he’d try tomorrow because he had to go to the bathroom. That poor kid couldn’t think of anything else to get out of climbing. When he came back the next day, I got him to climb for real this time. Trevor climbed to the first platform, about ten feet up, and told me that his back hurt, and that he wanted to come down; a likely story. He went up again afterwards about 15 minutes later, and when he got to that very same platform again, he froze. He looked down at me with eyes wide from fear and said he couldn’t move. He and that pole became well acquainted that day, as he stood there bear-hugging it with all his might.

“Trevor. Buddy. What’s wrong dude? Is it your back again?” I said, trying to make him feel better about his fear of heights. “Dude, you can totally make it up. You just have to take it one step at a time.”

“I don’t think I can do it. I’m really scared.” Came the reply, muffled by his face being buried in the tower. “I just can’t do it. I’m scared.”

“Listen bro. If you get up to the next platform…or if you even try, I’ll buy you a coke from the hub.”

“Really?” He said as he looked down at me.

“Definitely. Now lets do this. I’ve got you man. You’re not going anywhere but up, and that’s your choice.”

“Okay.” He moved up one foothold. He reached out with a shaky hand and grabbed the next one, and step two was accomplished, but then he froze again. He now stood 11 feet off the ground, and as he looked down at me I knew that he wasn’t going to make it. I also saw in his eyes the only reason he hadn’t come down was because he was lost again. He was scared of heights, yes, but he was more scared of what the other campers were going to say when he came down. He was lost and stuck, both figuratively and literally.

Its moments like these that I live for. My time at Lone Tree has made me stronger and well equipped for these situations. Its times like these that I feel like Peter Pan leading the Lost Boys into a victory against the pirates. Pirates who grew up to be lost in the system.

“Coo-coo cachoo dude! Guess what? I’ll buy you a coke if you make it or if you don’t. Whether you make it up or not. Just like that promise God made in the story we read this morning. Cool?” I call up to him with a smile.

“Really!?” Disbelief was clearly evident in his tone.

“No doubt. Just let Mr. Pole breath again and then sit back in your harness, and I’ll lower you down.” It took him a few seconds, but he released his Kung-Fu Death grip on the pole and came down. “Good job Trev. I’ll find you after dinner tonight and we’ll get a soda together alright?” I then dropped my voice to a conspiratorial tone as he got near, “Thanks for that.”

“What? I didn’t go up all the way.” He answered in dismay.

“Well, you gave me the chance to prove a point about our lesson from this morning. All the others heard that. You just helped teach my lesson buddy.” I said matter-of-factly. “Now take off that harness and put it in the bucket. Its time for dinner. I’ll find you after.”

I’m not the same kid I used to be. I’ve changed and grown. I’m no longer lost. I’ve found, due in no small measure to Lone Tree Ranch, that I’m stronger, smarter, and better equipped for most situations than the younger version of myself could ever have imagined. I don’t need to fit in to be the person God made me to be. In fact, it has turned out to be quite the opposite of that. The person I was created to be is slightly different and more than a little weird and flies higher than most of the lost.

Whether its leading an assorted crew of mid-highers and high-schoolers with mashed-potatoes in hand to wildly attack another team in Potato Wars, falling in the mud in the rodeo arena, kicking a massive kickball at a four-sided goal while locking arms with two 7^th graders, or talking a scared-to-death kid off of a tower, I’ve found that I know who I am now.

I’ve found my place. I am no longer lost.

Its funny that I had to grow up a little to realize that I don’t want to grow up. I am Peter Pan at Neverland, leading Lost Boys to victory.

Sing it Out

I have a habit of listening to songs and hearing things that I want them to mean rather than what they really mean. Its annoying sometimes because when I find out what songs are really about I usually don't like the truth. I like my own little private world where things mean what I want them to. For instance, the Backstreet Boys have a song called “Larger Than Life,” and I never really cared to know what it was about when I was in middle-school and Backstreet Boys were the bees-knees. However, I recently found their Millennium album for 99 cents and decided to buy it. Here are a few of the lyrics:

All you people can't you see, can't you see
How your love's affecting our reality
Every time we're down
You can make it right
And that makes you larger than life

All of your time spent keeps us alive

The song is clearly about all of the Backstreet Boys' fans...all 1,000,000 of those screaming 12 year old girls...however, in my little world I replaced “All you people” with “Oh my God”....so now it reads a little more like this:

Oh my God can't You see, can't You see

How Your love's affecting our reality

Every time we're down

You can make it right

And that makes You larger than life

All of Your time spent keeps us alive

I know...I'm cheesy. But that's just how my brain works. I like to see things from a different view. I see, hear, smell, taste things in a different way because I know the Who behind the sights, smells, and tastes of the world. I give Him the credit even when the credit wasn't originally given to Him. However, there are some songs that are just hard to not see a dual meaning. I think Paul is right in saying, “...since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.” (Romans 1:19-20). I think that not only does everyone feel at their core that there is a God, but that whether they mean to or not they sing about Him; they create works of art about Him.

Here's where I'm headed: I heard a song titled, “Sing” by a band called My Chemical Romance...and to be honest I'm not sure what they're talking about—here are the lyrics:

Sing it out,
Boy, you got to see what tomorrow brings.
Sing it out,
Girl, you got to be what tomorrow needs.

For every time.
That they want to count you out,
Use your voice,
every single time you open up your mouth.

Sing it for the boys,
Sing it for the girls,
Every time that you lose it sing it for the world.
Sing it from the heart,
Sing it till you're nuts,
Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts.
Sing it for the deaf,
Sing it for the blind,
Sing about everyone that you left behind.
Sing it for the world,
Sing it for the world.

Sing it out,
Boy, they're gonna sell what tomorrow needs
Sing it out,
Girl, they're gonna kill what tomorrow brings

You've got to make a choice,
If the music drowns you out.
And raise your voice,
Every single time they try and shut your mouth.

Sing it for the boys,
Sing it for the girls,
Every time that you lose it sing it for the world.
Sing it from the heart,
Sing it till you're nuts,
Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts.
Sing it for the deaf,
Sing it for the blind,
Sing about everyone that you left behind.
Sing it for the world,
Sing it for the world.


Cleaned-up corporation progress,
Dying in the process.
Children that can talk about it,
Living on the webways.
People moving sideways,
Sell it till your last days.
Buy yourself the motivation,
Generation nothing.
Nothing but a dead scene,
Product of a white dream.
I am not the singer that you wanted,

but a dancer.
I refuse to answer,
Talk about the past,
Sir and wrote it for the ones who want to get away.


Keep running!

Sing it for the boys,
Sing it for the girls,
Every time that you lose it sing it for the world.
Sing it from the heart,
Sing it till you're nuts,
Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts.
Sing it for the deaf,
Sing it for the blind,
Sing about everyone that you left behind.
Sing it for the world,
Sing it for the world.

You've got to see what tomorrow brings!
Sing it for the world,
Sing it for the world.
Yeah, you've got to be what tomorrow needs!
Sing it for the world,
Sing it for the world.

It makes me wonder what they're supposed to be singing about. It makes me wonder why they should sing at all. I don't know what they're singing about, but I certainly have something to sing about.

I feel like a nerd, but there are a lot of Scriptures that come to mind when I hear this song...Psalm 145 speaks about praising God and His works, “Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; His greatness no one can fathom. One generation will commend Your works to another; they will tell of Your mighty acts.” On and on it goes speaking about what God has done-- “Sing it out, girl you got to be what tomorrow needs...”. I think of Jesus warning us that we too would be hated, “All men will hate you because of Me, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved.” (Matthew 10:22)--”For every time that they want to count you out. Use your voice every single time, you open up your mouth.”

I think My Chemical Romance unwittingly gave me an anthem. Without meaning to they have encouraged me beyond measure. I want to sing of what God has done. Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls, every time I'm losing, I will sing it to the world. To the deaf and to the blind, “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor!”(Luke 7:22) I want to sing it from the heart, sing it till I'm nuts, until this world hates my guts. I want to dance in the streets like David and proclaim Christ. When the noise of this world tries to drown me out I will sing all the louder. When people try to shut my mouth I will only be encouraged more, because it is to those that are trying to shut me up that I sing. I sing it for the world. I sing it for the ones I left behind. For those who are lost.

So....we're supposed to sing it out. What are you singing out? What are you singing about to the deaf, blind, dead, and dying? Here is what I'm singing:

Praise the Lord.

Praise God in His sanctuary;

praise Him in His mighty heavens.

Praise Him for His acts of power;

praise Him for His surpassing greatness.

Praise Him with the sounding of the trumpet,

praise Him with the harp and lyre,

praise Him with the strings and flute,

praise Him with the clash of symbals,

praise Him with resounding cymbals.

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord.

~Psalm 150~

Christ is Lord.

Amen.

Searching for Fear and Finding Shelter

I’ve always been enthralled by storms. There’s something about the drop in pressure, the winds blowing in from the distance carrying the icy temperatures from the mountains--the brilliant flash of light in the distance followed by a low rumble. There’s power in storms and to stand in a high place, facing the wind and feeling the raw force pushing me, along with the electric feel in the air brings a joy and unexplainable comfort. There is something stronger than me out there. There is someone stronger than me behind the wind.

***

The storm had snuck up on us. While we’d been watching clouds form up on the horizon, rising like an atomic bomb had gone off in the distance, more clouds had approached us from behind. The winds had been present all afternoon, but their sudden absence warned us of the impending danger. The thunder finally told us where to look, and by that point it was too late. We were going to get wet.
As soon as we realized our situation we sent the campers down the mountain and started to pack up. Kylee and I raced each other pulling the ropes to the top of the rock face just like we did usually did, but this time a small element of fear spurred us on too. She won. Typical. The winds picked up again just as suddenly as they had stopped but this time there was an icy edge to them that cut to the bone. Shortly after the cutting wind picked up, great drops of rain pelted down sporadically from the heavens; a warning of what was to come.
We scrambled down from the top of the Rock, a cliff 120 feet high that we‘d rappel kids off of. Steve was waiting eagerly with the packs. I tossed the ropes I’d carried from the top to him and started wrapping the guideline.
I had my back to the storm. My hat was threatening to fly off of my head because of the wind and I could feel as much as see the lightning striking more and more frequently around me.
“Look behind you.” Steve said through the whirlwind. “That wall of water is going to hit us in about 30 seconds. Wrap fast!” I did wrap fast. “Faster Palmer! Pick up the pace Olson!” his voice had a smile behind it as if the fact that we could be struck by lightning were a pleasant prospect. Oddly enough I could share in his excitement, and when I looked behind me to see the white sheet of water pushing its way towards me I smiled too. The water reached us about 30 seconds later, just like Steve had predicted. I finished stuffing the ropes into the pack and then flinched as the water and wind lashed about me.
“God is big!” I yelled above the winds. Then a white flash blinded me as lightning struck in the distance. I tossed the 40 pound pack down to Kylee and she caught it while the wind and water started to plaster her hair to her face. Steve looked up at Kylee and I and gave a howl. We both followed suit, Kylee sounding like a wolf, and started our way down the slippery mountain pass.
The rock wall was on our right as we traveled down the mountain, and it blocked most of the wind and rain. Actually, at this point of the hike down it was relatively calm. Of course we knew this wasn’t the truth of the matter; thunder could be heard every few seconds, and the water rising to about our ankles reminded us that we were very much in the middle of a storm. But, the wind wasn’t beating on us at the moment and we were able to talk to each other as we shuffled carefully down the trail.
“See guys. I told you it happens quick.” Steve said. “Now you’ve got a story to tell!” Somehow he still found this experience to be funny. A brilliant flash turned my sight to white and a fraction of a second later a crackling blast echoed through my eardrums. I didn’t think this experience was that funny. In fact, I had never been so scared in my life.

***

They say that fear is the beginning of knowledge. More specifically, the fear of the Lord.
There are only a few times in my life that I can truly say I’ve been scared, or experienced fear; Like the time I walked away from my mom’s cart in the grocery store, probably distracted by some flashy flier trying to sell me vitamins. All I did was let go of my mom’s cart and walk off, but when I realized I’d been separated I just freaked out and screamed at the top of my little 5 year old lungs and cried. My mom was one aisle over and started laughing because she’d been watching the whole time. Or there was the time when I was 7 years old fishing with my dad. I was a big boy and went to the bathroom all by myself…in the port-a-potty. When I closed the door it locked…and when I couldn’t get the door unlocked, I screamed…well, who wouldn’t get scared when stuck in a port-a-potty. My dad rushed over thinking I’d fallen in and pried open the door. I felt stupid afterwards…but I can’t tell you of a time that I truly feared the Lord.
There are four Gospels in the New Testament of the Bible: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Each of them records Jesus’ resurrection. Matthew ends with the two Marys praising God, grabbing Jesus’feet, and worshipping him. Luke’s account shows Mary, Mary, and Joanna going to the tomb and finding it empty. They go tell the disciples and no one believes them. John ends with Jesus appearing to Mary Magdalene and telling her not to be sad. She complies and tells all the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”.
What gets me is the ending of the resurrection scene in Mark. Its different than all the rest. In this account they don’t see Jesus; only a man in white…probably an angel. He tells them not to be alarmed and to go tell the disciples what they have seen. Instead of going out and telling everyone, “I have seen the Lord!” It says, “And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Mark 16:8. I’ve always been puzzled by that. What does that even mean? Jesus was alive…yet they ran in fear. According to Proverbs this is the beginning of knowledge.

***

“Alright. Here in about 10 seconds we aren’t going to be protected by the Rock anymore. Make sure you keep good footing, have your hands free, and go slow. Fluid motions guys.” Steve’s advice reached Kylee and I, and as we rounded a turn in the trail, we saw the wall of water reappear in front of us. That’s where the Rock ended.

***

So I started thinking about what made those women run from the tomb that day. Why did they run away? And then I remembered Psalm 29, and how it describes God like a storm, and it clicked. If Jesus was alive, it meant that He had successfully faced the Almighty storm of God’s wrath and come back to tell about it. That meant that Jesus was everything He claimed to be: The Son of God. That meant that the Marys had been in the very presence of God and survived. He was stronger than the storm of death. That is truly frightening to think of.

C.S. Lewis says it well when he speaks of Aslan wrestling with Lucy:

It was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Narnia; and whether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing with a kitten Lucy could never make up her mind. And the funny thing was that when all three finally lay together panting in the sun the girls no longer felt in the least tired or hungry or thirsty.
“And now,” said Aslan presently, “to business. I feel I am going to roar. You had better put your fingers in your ears.”
And they did. And Aslan stood up and when he opened his mouth to roar his face became so terrible that they did not dare to look at it. And they saw all the trees in front of him bend before the blast of his roaring as grass bends in a meadow before the wind.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe – Chapter 15

God is the storm…and He is the one who faced the storm. He is the one who blocked the wind and rain. He is God Almighty, and it is frightening to hear Him roar. The Mary’s were scared because they realized that they had been keeping company with the storm-maker and the Rock that blocks the storm the whole time.

I think I understand their reaction now, and have a little insight into what Proverbs talks about when it says that fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge. I know who is behind the wind, and I know who blocks me from it--they are one and the same.

The Starbucks Chronicles: I Smell Funny

Lately I find that all of my hoodies and jackets have a very….distinct aroma about them. Every time I put one on, no matter where I go, or which hoodie I choose, the same smell greets me. I think it may be because of the places I frequent most often…or perhaps its just the way I smell now…being that I not only am surrounded at these places by this scent, but the source from which the scent exudes, I also put into my body…I feel like my good buddy Zach Sanchez explains this recent aroma-phenomenon well in his poem, “My Lifelong Love”:

An aroma beckons me like the song of angels from the heavens
A vision of pure seduction, dark velvet, smooth and truly dreamy
A touch so hot it’s almost intrusive, but oh so desirable
The thought, the desire, the crave, the addiction needing satisfaction
I hold a pleasurable prison almost painful in perfection
I cannot go on without, without finding myself going crazy
I find myself going crazy because I cannot go on without
What a delicious, wonderful, terrifying substance this coffee is



So I like coffee. And I go to Starbucks quite often. What can I say? I drink so much coffee that if you cut me I swear I’d bleed the Christmas Blend. I can’t decide if this is a good thing or if I’m pitiful…either way, coffee is what I smell like. I don’t know, perhaps it’s the taste. Maybe it’s the smell…or it may even be the general atmosphere of a coffee shop. Everyone there is so cool and trendy--beanie wearing, flannel-sporting, book-reading, music-listening people frequent the place…and the paintings on the walls are…trendy as well. The dim lights, the warm feel, the pleasant smell, all surround the place and make me happy. So I go there a lot.

However, something pretty amazing has been happening ever since I’ve moved back to Albuquerque and started religiously going to Starbucks to read my bible…people have come up to me and talked to me about Jesus more than ever. I’ve talked to believers, atheists, agnostics, confused people that think they know Christianity, Wiccans, and the list goes on.
Actually, the Wiccan lady was probably the most interesting…she asked me what I was reading--the words “Holy Bible” must not have given it away--or maybe she was just trying to get conversation out of me…either way I told her I was reading God’s Word. She told me that she thought any old manuscript held value and was timeless…and I simply agreed that with the Bible this was most definitely true, and that its wisdom can be read time and again because it is we that change not the Bible…and also, its God’s word…to which she told me that she wasn’t a Christian, but she did agree that it was us who changed, not the text. Naturally, my next question was, “Well…can I ask, what are you then?” And without missing a beat she told me she was a witch.

Now…normally people avoid being called a witch, and I think perhaps she wanted to see my reaction by saying something so blatantly, but luckily I didn’t even react, except to say, “Oh. That’s cool.” I mean, seriously…what are you supposed to say to that? She told me that my beliefs and her beliefs were the same…I smiled, but on the inside I was saying “Nuh-uh!”. She said that Wiccans worship the feminine aspects of God and nature and that its all about, “the feel and the magic of everything.” And I couldn’t help but think of Romans 1:25:

“They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather that the Creator--who is forever praised, Amen.”

So, while she was talking I was trying to sneakily turn to Colossians 1, because there it just talks about all the created things were made through, by, and for Christ, and that I didn’t see the point of bypassing the Creator for created things…thus worshiping nature and, “the magic” seemed silly….but my bible-turning was less than ninja-like and she told me that she had to go. Of course. I bid her a good day, (how British of me) and then told her we should talk again later.

But it got me wondering why people were so suddenly interested in talking to me. It just seemed curious to me that almost every time I go into Starbucks to read, that someone asks me what I’m reading, or what I think about this or that….and I read this passage the other day, and it hit me:

“But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life.” ~2 Corinthians 2:14-16

I read that and realized that just like my hoodie smells like coffee because of the ridiculous amount of time I spend in Starbucks, that I smell like Jesus the more time I spend with Him. And people notice. Just like when I smell cookies I go to the kitchen to investigate. Or when someone smells death they go to see where its coming from. I smell like Jesus. So I’m going to continue to go to Starbucks to read my bible, and try to update on the adventures I have there. They shall be called, “The Starbucks Chronicles”. And I hope that I go so much that they become familiar with the smell. And now, whenever I put on my hoodie and smell coffee I can smile and know that I smell like Jesus.

April Fool

If a fool is someone who does stupid things, then being fooled is being tricked into doing or believing something stupid. Like falling for a prank on April 1st even when you KNOW it’s a day devoted to making fools out of people.
I started thinking about fools and foolish things right around April Fools day this year…mainly because I got fooled hardcore by some friends…(Touche Forrest and Kylee).
As far as I can tell being a fool is a bad thing. The book of Proverbs seems to be the authority on the topic of fools. There are around 64 verses that talk about the fool…one of my personal favorites is Proverbs 26:11: “Like a dog who returns to his vomit is a fool who repeats his folly.” Ha…vomit. It talks over and over again about doing things that are stupid. It speaks of wisdom and how to get it…and it usually tells you to do something because its good and to not do what the fool does.
Let me share with you a humorous and semi-embarrassing story from my past when I was fooled:
I was in the 8th grade, when it happened. It was my birthday, and I was excited. I put on my game face that day; New haircut complete with bleached highlights, tight-fitting white T to accentuate my rib-laden frame, sun-glasses that were too big for my face and made me look like a bug, and Hawaiian print board shorts. I was stylin’ fo sho…in that awkward mid-high way. My confidence in my coolness was only confirmed by the fact that 20...ish people showed up to my birthday party. We jumped on the trampoline and listened to the Now 5 CD, and then ate cake and played knockout. After I won…or at least that’s how I choose to remember it, we went inside to open presents. I honestly can’t remember what all I got…mostly gift cards and $10 bills. But one gift was different than the rest. My friend Ryan Weatherford bought me scratcher lottery tickets and he insisted that I scratch them in front of everyone to see if maybe I won something. I went through the first couple and didn’t win a thing. On the last ticket I read the instructions: “Get three numbers the same and you win that amount.”…or something like that. So I start the ticket and the first number is $10...the next is $5...oh wow. Then $10,000...things look better. The next number…also $10,000...my eyes were wider now, no one could tell though because of my bug glasses. Everyone held their breath now…hushed and waiting for my next move. The penny in my quivering hand began to feel like a boulder…Destiny’s Child‘s, “Jumpin’ Jumpin’” could be heard in the background as my Now 5 album played, and it described the condition of my heart quite well. I then sealed my fate by scratching the next space to discover….$10,000! I. HAD. WON!
The room erupted into celebration and gave a whole new meaning to “Jumpin’ Jumpin’”. I was hoisted high onto the shoulders of my friends and paraded around the house and we all laughed and cheered and were overjoyed at my luck…which was also their luck…because they were my friends. After a few minutes things settled down a little and Ryan told me to look on the back to see where I could redeem my ticket…He thought that perhaps we could all go and cash it in right then and there and celebrate further. My adrenaline filled body could hardly hold the ticket still enough to read the back. My eyes strained to focus on the words “Redeem”. Here is what the ticket said: This ticket is redeemable at Your Mama’s House. If you call 1-800-DUMB and ask for Santa, he will connect you with the Tooth Fairy and she will provide you with a good dose of Gullable. Thanks.
Ryan received a good tackle…but it didn’t do a whole lot since he was already on the floor laughing. I felt absolutely foolish and the blonde highlights in my gelled up hair were accentuated by my ever redder face as embarrassment set in. I was the fool. It was all in good fun and lots of people have fallen for a joke like that….right? Please say its not just me.

It makes me laugh when people go around calling each other fool. “Sup fool!” Its kind of a slang term for ’buddy’ now…which makes me wonder if half the people that say that realize they’re calling each other stupid. Just a thought…but there does seem to be a time when being foolish is acceptable--a time when being called a fool might be considered a good thing: Like when a person falls in love and says, “I‘m a fool for you.” I’ve done some stupid things for people when I thought I was in love. One time I was driving to Dallas and a girl who is a friend decided she would keep me company…but she lives 3 hours away from me and Dallas is 12 hours from either one of us…so I drove to where she lived, picked her up and then drove to Dallas. The result cost me just a tad more in gas and a lot of sleep time….but I’d do it again. (Perfect example of Proverbs 26:11) Needless to say I wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t had different thoughts about the girl.
But that kind of confirms a thought I have on being foolish…I do think that there is a time and a place to do foolish things. Love can be one of those times. If things had worked out between me and the girl then I think that maybe my acts of foolishness wouldn’t seem so foolish but they would suddenly be romantic. Its like…normally jumping in front of a car is a definite foolish thing to do… but if you’re jumping in front of the car to save someone’s life then its no longer foolish but heroic.
David of Israel was a guy that had a complete grasp of being foolish. In fact I think he could be considered an artist: He’s had his good times and his bad. Sleeping with a woman who isn’t your wife is foolish. Murdering said woman’s husband is also sort of stupid…and for the record…taking a bath on a rooftop is stupid too. Just sayin’…But there’s more to David’s foolish antics…a 12 year old boy with a sling and rocks taking on a 7 foot tall man with a sword is stupid…totally foolish. But when that little boy goes in because the God of the universe is at his back he stops being foolish and starts being smart…Normally dancing in public is sort of strange…depending on where you are. Being in your underwear in public is usually sort of foolish. Dancing in your underwear in public is foolish…and even worse when you’re the king. But David did it because he was so overjoyed by God…and I don’t think it was foolish to those who understood why he was doing it… “I will be even more undignified than this…” (2 Samuel 6:22).
Actin’ a fool is bad if there’s no good reason for it. But if there is a reason then intentionally being foolish gains a sort of…prestige. Here’s where this is hitting home for me though…and it has been thrown into the limelight with Easter and all…and it can only be said by Paul…the king of hard-to-understand…
“For the word of the cross is folly (foolishness) to those who are perishing…” (1 Corinthians 1:18).

I mean lets think about it: The message, or word, of the cross is that if you believe in Jesus, a man who claimed to be God, and believe that he was killed on said cross and that he rose from the grave 3 days later, then you too will rise. If you believe in Jesus, just take off your Jesus-glasses for a second and think about it, and if you don‘t then just listen to this: A guy that was tortured and killed in the most despicable of ways says he is God and then his best buddies say they saw him alive 3 days later? Oh and they think they’ll rise as well? Okay.
It sounds a little foolish doesn’t it? It sounds crazy. But the thing about it is….I know that I know that its true. Like the verse says, “…folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” I believe--know that I am saved and I will rise like Christ on the last day. But to someone who doesn’t believe or know God that sounds absolutely bonkers. With today’s technology and the years of research and experimentation we can do some pretty crazy things…we can duplicate ourselves if we want. We’ve unlocked many of the complexities of DNA and what was once science-fiction is now not so far-fetched. But rise from the dead 3 days after you’ve been killed? Haven’t duplicated anything like that before.
By all standards of the world the story of the cross is folly…okay, now put your Jesus glasses back on. There is a God. He is real. And He did come to earth as the Son Jesus Christ. We who know the God that surpasses all understanding can bear witness to His power…We who are weak shall overcome the strong. We who know nothing understand everything with Jesus. You see…We gave up our rights. We stopped leaning on our understanding…stopped looking at the universe through science books and microscopes. We stopped trying to figure out how this universe came to be and looked instead to the Creator of it all. We let go of the wisdom this fallen world has to offer and we’ve become fools for Christ.
So, let go of your so-called wisdom. Forget everything you know. Who cares what Bill Nye the Science guy says…Jesus Christ is God. Dance in the streets. Set out to accomplish the impossible. Believe the unbelievable. Forfeit your life to gain it. I know it goes against all logic…winning the lottery through a scratcher doesn’t happen…but try your luck…forget the statistics. Try your hand at this…Because I don’t know anything else other than this: He is risen.