Oh, that’s you!

Oh, that is you!

A long time ago, in a land far from my home in Springfield, Oregon, a group of slaves found the courage to leave all that they had known to find “a new thing.” At first life was exciting and new. The plan was fairly clear, leave here, follow the voice of the man named Moses, and he will lead you to this promise land. Their food was provided, although it was not “Lucky Noodle” it was food and did what it was supposed to do. They had all the water they needed, not bottled from Safeway but hey it was water and it was wet.
As the journey continued life to this “New Thing” grew more difficult, more demanding and became based on faith, not fact. Expectations of a quick trip, easy steps and a perfectly laid out plan were replaced with hot days, tired feet and weary minds. The people must have thought “Hey, we’re doing what God asked us to do so everything should run according to plan and we should be to this new home soon.” As we know it didn’t work out that way.
Here we sit thousands of years later and don’t we still make the same assumptions? We even teach this sort of thing in churches all over this country. It’s not something we talk about but we set up expectations for ourselves and for others that when the call comes, and we take the step, smooth sailing will follow.
What got me thinking this way this morning was a verse I read in Psalms 78:14
“In the daytime also he led them with a cloud, and all the night with a light of fire.”
Can you image following a cloud? You are wandering around a wilderness looking for the new thing, for 40-years following a cloud. I think that still happens today. Perhaps God is leading us but the path or the way in which He leads makes no sense and we start to wonder and grumble. Just maybe that cloud, that thing you read the other day or that word from a friend, relative or your wife was like a cloud?
Leaving one thing for another is never easy. Finding freedom, giving up slavery rarely happens in our timing or by our plan.
As I head out today I plan to do a couple of things: ignore the expectations and instead keep my eyes open for a little bit of fire and a cloud or two.

The Meddler

I’m Meddling.
It’s five o’clock in the morning. My eyes strain to see the clock hoping it’s later so I can get up and get moving. I want to sleep but have trained myself to feel better if I rise early as not to appear lazy or uninvolved.
Before my head rises from the pillow lists and messages fly through my brain. The lists consist of ways I can “Make it happen” today. Emails I need to return rush to the surface as the beginning of panic sets in and phrases like “What If I forget to do that?” echo in my head.
On the counter in my kitchen is a book someone gave to me 15 year ago, the last time these sort of trials seemed to overtake my life. I pick it up and turn to March 29th and 30th and the voice of my God reverberates off the pages.
A story of a monk who planted an Olive Tree creates a tiny hole in my hardened heart that creates warmth in this dark place. It’s warmth I haven’t felt in some time. The monk in the story prayed for the olive tree he planted both day and night. He prayed for a gentle shower to water it. He prayed for sunshine to help it grow and he even prayed for frost to strengthen it but the tree died.
A second monk also had an Olive Tree. He too prayed for the tree but the second monk understood that he knew not what the tree really needed. He simply entrusted the tree to its’ maker. He laid no conditions on the tree or the growth process instead saying God give the tree what it needs, sunshine, rain, snow, a storm, wind or frost and this tree lived.
The second monk understood that the tree was Gods and only God understood the particular needs of that tree.

The other part of my “Stream in the Desert” was the story of darkness. This is something I relate to all to well during this season of my life. I’d like to say I understand it but that would be a stretch, a public relations tool to make you think I know far more than I do.
When we get into a dark place our temptation is to find any way out. We turn to friends, we turn to books, and we look for processes, techniques and past practices to get us out. We are trained to see dark places as equivalent to bad places.
I’m starting to think that this dark place is my perfect place right now. Maybe the darkness is not something I should try to extricate from my everyday walk. Maybe I should put the “Jaws of Life” away and simply wait? God will show me a way out or perhaps a way deeper down. The problem is the culture we live in says to stay in darkness is to be nonproductive. But what if to try to make light in what is supposed to be darkness is actually to meddle? What If this place I have found myself is exactly where I need to be and pushing, prodding and prowling my way out will only prolong the pain and prevent me from finding my place? (that was a whole lot of “P’s”)
God knows just what we need. He knows how much, how soon and how long we can last. I don’t see this as a test that sounds so religious and bit arrogant. It is what it is and I must stop scrambling for more fertilizer or a flashlight.
Maybe tomorrow morning when my head rises from the pillow I can quiet the noise, put my head back down, and let God do what He does best which is run the show.

Back in the Saddle again.

Back in the Saddle.
I crawled back in the saddle yesterday and it felt good. First, I was back on my bike saddle at the gym after two weeks of staying off the seat. I had to have a PSA test and my doctor told me to stay off the bike to see if that is what’s raising my levels. As it turns out it didn’t help. My PSA continues to climb and I’m not sure what’s causing it or what we’re going to do about it. I’ve had three biopsies and so far there’s no cancer. So, I’ll talk with my doctor later today. Sure, I get concerned every time I go through this but it’s one of those things I can’t really fix so I wait.
The other saddle I climbed back into yesterday was politics. I was with Josh Kagi (wiredoregon) following a few stories and I realized how much fun life in Salem could be. We talked with a few lawmakers (there are a some good folks up there) about a new bill to stop bullying. I have to smile at the idea of politicians teaching our kids not to bully. We also stopped by a hearing on a proposed bill by the new Secretary of State that would put more requirements on those gathering signatures for initiative petitions. I don’t like the legislation because it will limit Oregonians ability to participate in the process. But this blog is not about that bill it’s about the fact that I felt like I was back in the saddle again. Losing the race for Secretary of State was a bigger blow than I thought. I put a lot of effort, time and money into that race and then it was over. Many of you helped as well and I never really dealt with the loss. Yesterday was a reminder that in some way, shape or form I need to be involved in the process. Does that mean I will run again? I don’t know. There are many ways to be involved.
The good news is something came back to life yesterday. I’m back in the saddle again. Hey, wasn’t that an old Aerosmith song?

Watch Out for that Wave

You are waste high, standing in the ocean, and the waves keep beating against your body. At first it’s exciting because each wave is so different and brings with it a new challenge. There are moments in between waves where you get a chance to catch your breath and enjoy the beauty of the place you are standing. But when you play in the ocean you can pack up and go inside when the weather turns. When the wind begins to blow, adding to the excitement and fear, it can be fun for a while. But when you grow tired of the sport, you can return to the beach, wrap up in a towel and head to a warm fire in the cabin.
What happens when the decision to call it a day is taken away from you? What happens when you try to step out of the water and find cover, but your feet won’t budge? What do you say to those around you, to yourself, or even to God when you realize that this is the way your life is for now and it may not change for a long time if ever?
When I was growing up the flannel board Jesus consisted of stories that made walking this road a matter of simply being good. The reality is there is no such thing as the flannel board Jesus. This is a battle and following Christ is not for the weak. Sometimes I wish the cute little stories about Jesus when I was a little guy were true. Not factually, I believe every word of it. I mean I wish simply being good were enough. But I’m learning that to love is not easy. To understand sometimes never happens until it’s over and to walk along side God is not for the faint of heart.

I’m Melting.

For so many years the man had climbed to the top of mountains thinking that would get him closer to the one who created him. He fought and worried and worked his way over great obstacles that made it seem so right to claim his place on the peaks that overlooked the valleys below. He thought when he read of great men and women in history, who’d made their mark, that overcoming meant reaching the top of the mountain.
But as the man grew in age and his physical eyesight began to fade, his spiritual vision started to clear. As he stood there on the top of the mountain he found himself alone. Yes, he had scaled many insurmountable odds to get to this place. True, he had given much to make it to this particular mountain peak. Imagine his surprise when he got to the top only to hear the one who had created him say “I must increase which means you must decrease.”
Our world teaches us that we must take our place in history. Our culture says in order to be someone we must make a mark that is memorable. But how can that be if once the mark is made true success means we must disappear? How do I explain to my son’s, my friends and even myself that the true measure of success is when I am never thought of again?
As I read these words I feel something start to change deep in my soul. Truth has a way of tingling that sometimes resembles fear. Yet, in the slight trembling that accompanies this new sensation a new cell structure is being created that is foreign to my emotions. I wonder that this is not the beginning of peace. Not, the peace politicians or world leaders speak of but the peace that God says goes beyond understanding.
Maybe the Wicked Witch of the West said it best in the Wizard of Oz: I’m Melting.

The Man in the Corner.

I’m standing in a long, dark, narrow hallway wondering what to do. There are doors on each side, several doors actually. Some are open more than others. Each has a bit of light shinning through the crack. Each door is an option. Each door leads to a different opportunity. Some are more appealing than others and some are downright scary.
As I look down the hallway, I hear people’s voices asking questions about which door I will enter. Some point me to this door, others to that one. Each voice has good reason to lead me to its threshold but none is convincing enough to get me to go through.
Some ask me to enter their door or to shut the one behind me but I hear no convincing argument to cause me to close a door. The voices are in a hurry to get me to decide. They want to know that I’ve made a decision so they can write it down, put it in an envelope, seal it and move on.
I find myself standing in the long narrow hallway looking towards the end. I’m not looking for resolution or an answer but to a dark corner in the hallway where I sense the presence of someone much smarter than me. I can’t see Him, feel Him, or hear much from His mouth right now but I know He’s there. I strain my eyes for a glimpse of light but nothing. I stay quiet anticipating a still small voice but hear nothing. When I was a boy I heard so much about Faith. I thought it was something you traded for. You know, I do this and get that. But this hallway is proving to me Faith is much deeper than a barter system.
So for now, all the doors remain open in various stages. The voices of the people continue to ramble but I can choose to quiet them or at least turn down their volume. I must wait for that man in the corner to utter a few words and close and open those doors. I have nothing to trade. I have nothing of great value to Him accept my life. So I stand, naked before God waiting for an answer.