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.

The Voices in My Head

I hate the wind. I really do. I’ve only discovered two truly good uses for it…and those would be sailing ships and flying kites. I don’t have a ship…or an ocean to sail it in, and I haven’t flown a kite in a few years. I really should do that sometime soon…Anyways, other than that, wind has no good purpose. If you want to throw a Frisbee around, then the wind chooses that day or afternoon to show up. It will ruin any self-respecting big-haired Texan’s hair day, and if the wind is blowing and you’re outside it will single-handedly make your voice hoarse because you have to yell over it. Wind blows dirt, and dirt gets in eyes.
The other day the wind decided to blow 70 mph. Which isn’t that surprising in New Mexico. This particular wind decided to blow over a power-pole which left all of Capitan and the surrounding area, Lone Tree included, without power. Which is pretty lame, but its not that bad. What’s really bad is when that same electrified power-line touches dead grass causes fire. Wind plus fire is bad…wind plus anything is bad, but we covered that already. Anyways, camp life was a little bit stressed the other day as we watched the fire spread and wondered if we’d have to cancel our groups and prayed for the power to come back on so our refrigerators would come back on so that our food would stay nice. We like nice food. So, as I established above: Nothing good comes from the wind.
I just remember climbing the stairs to the top of the water-slide to see if I could catch a glimpse of the flames in the distance and praying…and that’s when I had an interesting thought:
My current circumstances felt familiar…as if it had been lived out before. In fact I was pretty sure that it had happened before.
There was this guy named Elijah…him and God were pretty tight. And one time God tells Elijah that he is going to pass by. So Elijah goes up on a mountain to wait for God to show up when a massive wind tears through the mountain, ripping rocks and trees up. After the wind there was an earthquake to thoroughly dislodge any rocks not torn up by the wind already…and finally a fire passed through leaving nothing left in its wake but Elijah to see what would come next. I can imagine the scene now…looking something like an atomic bomb had been set off. Broken boulders blackened by fire and trees poking up all around the landscape, their charred remains looking like skeletons in a graveyard. I can imagine the silence that followed…deafening and threatening. Elijah’s every breath must have been caught in his throat as he waited for what would come next…and then…a whisper came…and it drew Elijah from the crevice he’d been hiding in.
As I stood at the top of the water-slide being slammed by the winds and still only able to smell the smoke from the fire, I realized that perhaps I was experiencing a little of what Elijah did…and that’s when I felt rather than heard the whisper. It was God saying, “I’ve got it all under control.” When I went back downstairs I began to feel that it was true. I walked back to the office and called the electric company and they informed me that the power would be back on at 6. They also said that the fire had been contained and all was well. God knows what He’s doing. Its beautiful to think that God can whisper assurance and comfort to His loved ones. He is gentle and kind….
That’s when I started really thinking: What does God’s voice really sound like? If Elijah’s encounter has anything to say about it I think that perhaps we could say that God’s voice is a whisper. I like that. No matter what is happening He is there to whisper His comfort to us. Though the wind may blow, the earth may shake, and the fires rage…and the power goes out, He is there to remind us that He loves us and that He is in control.
But that’s not all God’s voice sounds like. Genesis attests to that. When God speaks, stuff happens. I really like the way Louie Giglio puts it…and this is a very rough quote, but he once said, “I don’t like it when people say they wish they could have been there at the moment of creation,” the background behind him had a close-up shot of the surface of the sun, “…because THAT--” he pointed behind him, “is what came out of His mouth when He said, ’Let there be light.’”
And its true. It says in Isaiah 55 “…my word that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty.” Sometimes God’s voice is violent and destructive. Psalm 29 talks about His voice thundering and tearing up trees and clearing forests. God isn’t any pushover.
There’s this movie called, “Dogma.” I can’t claim to remember a whole lot about the movie other than its not really Biblically correct and it’s a little (a lot) inappropriate. One thing does stick out about the movie that I find very intriguing…
In the movie there are two rebellious angels that are running around causing a ruckus, so God shows up to lay down the punishment. Now, in the movie God is a woman…which is not how HE is portrayed in the Bible…nothing against women (you’re beautiful). However, God has a messenger speak for Him, and the messenger is relaying all the charges against the angels, and the list is lengthy. Then the punishment is explained: God will speak. The two angels quivered in fear and everyone else around gasped and covered their ears (minus the two angels receiving said punishment). Then God spoke, and the two angels blew up. Literally. It was gross. The point being that God is beyond comprehension and He is powerful. When He speaks, stuff happens.
I can’t honestly claim to know all that God says or understand it…But I think that perhaps God isn’t so different from us…or more accurately, we are more like Him than we realize. They say that body language and facial expression is 90% of communication and speaking is the remaining 10%. I think that this is kind of true with God as well.
I think that God spoke loudest about 2,000 years ago. I think that the action of coming to earth in the form of Jesus Christ is really saying something. And I think that when He washed the disciple’s feet He was saying something. When He cried because of His friend Lazarus He was saying something. When He fed the 5,000 He was saying something. When He stood silently before Herod He was saying something. When He didn’t stop Pontius Pilate from condemning Him, He was saying something. When He was nailed to the cross He was saying something…the message was loud and clear…He was saying, “I love you. All of you.”
I’m sort of bad at listening. I tend to listen to myself more than anything else…but as I continue to try and follow God, His voice keeps echoing in my head over and over again. “I love you.”…I don’t understand much…but I do understand that, and I am trying to listen closer. And as I listen I‘m praying…and this is my prayer: “Speak, for your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:10) Amen.

I've Been Thinking: Sling-shots, Snow-horses, & Jealousy

So I’ve been thinking a lot…and if anyone who really knows me reads this, they will know that that is a very dangerous thing. For instance…at one point in time I thought it would be good to let my friend Mike Stetter sling-shot me off of a slack line. At first only Mike pulled me back as I sat on the webbing strung between two trees, only to release me and have me flip and land softly on my back in the grass just below where I was sitting. Before I knew it I was balancing on the slack line with 10+ people pulling back as a leaned forward, waiting to be shot forward into the back yard. What really happened was I went faster and flipped faster and landed on my head faster than before and hurt my back. So…as that scenario clearly demonstrates, it is sometimes bad when I begin to think.
But really I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About what I want to do in life. About who I want to be in life. It is no secret that I love God. At least I hope its not something hidden from view…so if you happen to be reading this and didn’t know that, then I’m telling you right now, “I love Jesus Christ. Aaaaaamen.” It is also no secret that I’m more than a little ridiculous. I am 22 years old and I work at Lone Tree Ranch in the Capitan mountains, and my main job is to entertain kids and tell them about Jesus. I have on more than one occasion worn a heart suit and run around hugging people, asking them if they can “feel the love,”, just to entertain kids and make them laugh at me. Some people would say that I’m slightly obsessed and strangely good at impersonations…I’ve been known to wear Captain Jack Sparrow outfits and Ninja Turtle costumes…if you don’t believe me go to Youtube and search for “AWCJnew.avi”. That first result is definitely me.
I am by no means old…and I really don’t feel that there is any specific age that a person has to try and “be mature,” but I am 22 and I am beginning to think that perhaps there needs to be something more behind my carefree ridiculousness than the ability to make kids laugh…I feel the need and desire to…have my stuff together.
At the same exact moment I am not saying that I’m will stop being ridiculous…Its too much fun to make kids laugh at my ridiculous behavior and seeming lack of the ability to be embarrassed…and I’m good at it. I sometimes tell people that I relate better with the mid-highers than I do with people my own age…I definitely feel like God has gifted me with this. I know where my heart lies.

I feel as if I’ve been rambling thus far…what I would like to explain is what specifically I’ve learned and been thinking about lately.
This past weekend an amazing friend of mine came to visit…we were going to go on an epic overnight horse ride and be hardcore, but it snowed like Christmas morning, leaving all of our manly hardcore adventures frozen under the snow. My friend, Forrest Powell, is probably one of the most legit people you’ll ever meet. To describe him I’d have to say that he is a jack of all trades. Since he graduated high school he has gone to 4 different colleges and changed his major 3 times. If I ever need a crime-fighting, horse wrangling, bull bucking, number crunching, fire fighting, EMT welder, then Forrest is my man.
After our horse riding adventure was buried in the snow we had a lot of time to catch up on life and discuss how God has been growing in our lives…and it turns out that both of us have gone through painful girl trouble in the past couple of months…here is the revelation that Forrest learned and shared with me as told in my words:

I think there’s something to the wedding analogy given by God. We are to be the bride of Christ and he is to be our bridegroom…I’ve always had a tough time understanding that analogy because…well because I’m a dude…and if I ever dream about being a bride it’s a very strange dream indeed. But if you think about it God is just trying to explain to us what being with Christ is like. The anticipation of the wedding day…the white dress, the music, the celebration…the cake.
It makes sense if you’ve ever cared about someone in a romantic fashion. That gooey gooshy warm fuzzy feeling you get when they’re around. The thought of seeing that person brightens your entire day…Now when I think about Christ, I don’t have exactly that same desire…its not like I want to crawl in his lap and rub his beard while staring longingly into His eyes…but I do want to be around Him…and I do long to see and talk to Him. No beard rubbing, but deep connection…yes.
Here’s where it all comes together for both myself and Forrest. There’s a story in Exodus chapter 32 where Moses is up on the mountain getting the 10 Commandments… and he’s been up there for a while. Meanwhile down at the bottom of the mountain the Israelites are…being bad. In the 40 days that Moses has been away the Israelites have melted down all of their gold jewelry and made a golden cow statue to worship…a cow. I mean…it’s a cow…and if you’re going to make an idol why not make something cool…like an eagle…or a Tasmanian devil or something? Anyways, Moses comes down from the mountain and kicks butt. He throws down the tablets in his anger, has the cow melted and then ground down, and then he throws the gold into the water and makes the people drink it. And usually I just shake my head at that part…make them drink the gold? Sounds like something people do on MTV Cribs…but it turns out that the reason for the drinking gold is in Numbers chapter 5...and it’s the test to see if a woman has cheated on her husband. If she drinks the water and her leg swells up then she’s adulterous…if not then she just got a rich diet…After finding that out it makes a little sense…let me tie it all together.
We have a jealous God. He wants us and only us. He doesn’t want to share…and to be honest I don’t blame Him. Forrest and I both were recently in relationships…we won’t name names…but in both our cases the female party moved on rather quick…and we felt slightly betrayed…and more than a little jealous.
Here’s where Forrest’s knowledge comes into play. It clicked in his head at this point that the rejection and sadness we feel at that sort of turn of events is what God must feel like every time we put our trust in anything other than him…and I make fun of the golden cow that the Israelites made, but the things that I run to are more laughable: Sleep, girls, video games, TV shows…and to think that God takes us back and says to us, “As far as the east is from the west, that is how far your transgressions are removed.” He takes us back, wipes off the dirt, and then embraces us anew. Every. Time…and so we come to a crossroad of sorts…we are called to love like Christ loves. We are told to do what He does…and to be honest, neither one of us knows if we can forgive like that. We are by no means God…and we are by no means supposed to be little pansies and take abuse from others…but really? I don’t know if I could accept back certain individuals even with a sincere apology.
I don’t know…Its something that I’m working on…God is working on. Its spurring me on to, “get my stuff together,” and follow God closer. I want to be responsible. I want to grow up a little bit. I want to forgive those who have wronged me as I have wronged God. I want to stop building golden cows and worship the one true God.
I want to show others the love He has lavished upon me.