When I start to grow ungrateful or when my memory fades, he sends me a new reminder of his goodness. He flashes some serendipity. He shows off his sovereignty. He proves his thoughts are higher, his plans better. He lets me revel on one side of the river and then invites me to the other side.
If an angel called you something, it’d probably stick. That’s your nickname now. Even if nobody else ever used that name for you, you’d probably say it when you looked in the mirror. It’d definitely make it into your journal.
This morning, I was prompted to walk around to the various lots of our church and pray specifically for the distinct populations that fill them. For those of you who attend Blue Ridge, here is what I prayed for you in each of these spots. For those who don’t attend my church, here’s a peek into why the parking lot ministry is so critical to the mission of Jesus.
For me, it’s a been a hard factory reset on my hardware. It’s led to more time in nature, where I feel Jesus most and closest. It’s asked me how much of my identity is wrapped up in my commercial value and what those paychecks afford. It’s confronted my privilege, my arrogance, my condescension. It’s alerted me that I’m not as good of a friend as I had previously thought. It’s reminded me that I’m not in control.
Kauai’s infamous trek draws adventurers from around the globe. (We met hikers from Canada, Germany, Ireland, Japan, and Russia in just a couple days.) We did it the hard way—and all proud of that. On our last day on the … Continued
In the meantime, we can dream. We can hope. We can hear the news and pray for those affected. We can ask for the Source of empathy to wrap his arms around the hurting. We can give to charities on the ground of each conflict or disaster. We can leverage the privilege of our safety to wish it for someone else.
But I’m burying the lead. Let’s not gloss over an important part of this rule: it was transcribed in the Bible. Not a fan fiction version of the Bible. The real-deal holy book. I’ve attended more than 5,000 church, chapel, and Bible class sessions and have never heard this addressed once by the person at the front of the room. Religion seems to focus on the more Flannelgraphable passages of the Bible.
If you’re looking for a theme to connect a lot of these titles, it would be self discovery. Many of these books describe personal journeys that led the authors to a better grasp of who they are and/or who God is, and how all of that intersects with cultural realities. That’s been indicative of my year, too.
Colin McRae (the youngest to win the World Rally Championship Drivers’ title) said, “Straight roads are for fast cars. Turns are for fast drivers.” For one gloriously-rainy Saturday in Snoqualmie, Washington, I got a chance to be humbled in the dirt, mud, and gravel of some slippery turns.
I walk in this darkness with “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” I have access to the source of all light, the genesis of all triumph, the fountain of all good things. His rivers flow in the dark. His waterfalls pound boulders whether tourists watch or not. His tides rise and fall without intervention. His purview surpasses my imagination.
Thankfully, all of us also hold enough of the antidote to heal both ourselves and the people in our lives. We can neuter the algorithm by not running it on our hard drives. We can ask questions instead of making assumptions. We can trade arrogance out for humility. We can make room for options like both and neither and somewhere-in-between. We can walk right up to nuance instead of staring at it through rifle scopes.
I was groomed to be a misogynist. Through private school, summer camps, college, and four church services per week for 15 years, I sat under more than 4,000 sermons and Bible lessons from leaders of the Independent Baptist Fundamentalist movement. … Continued
I’m glad I had these guys around me as I learned how to fly fish. They showed me a lot of patience. They answered a preschooler’s worth of “Why is that?” and “What does [that term] mean?” questions. They treated me as an equal and welcomed me with open arms into the fly fishing brotherhood.
One of my New Years Resolutions for 2019 was to learn how to wing walk. My favorite podcasters told the world that was a bit of a flex. Maybe it was. But I did it, and I’m more alive now than ever.
I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, but I’ve been given faces for the anonymous stories of sexual assault, abuse, and harassment I’ve read online. One by one over the past few years, I’ve learned that people I love, wives of my friends, and women who worship at my church share those stories.
I got to introduce my wife to the Norway I love and complete the set: exploring in both the Arctic and Antarctic circles. We came during the midnight sun, whose light never left during our four nights in Northern Norway—north of Alaska.
Growing in our faith is a symbiotic process, an experiential education. We all mature when we lean authentically on each other and lean together into both the truth and the mystery of Scripture. When we do all of that, we create a community that people from all walks of life will crave and something no app could ever duplicate.
I’m thankful Patrick didn’t let that buzz get drowned out by commotion or by fatal news. I’m inspired by his hope and challenged by his example. For years to come, there will be a buzz in my ears, a vibration in my chest. When I’m tempted to let circumstances shroud my faith, I’ll remember Patrick. When I want to wallow in pity, I’ll think about his unselfishness. When life is hard, when it’s a battle, I’ll remind myself of the warrior we celebrate today.
On the way back to Abbotsford from glacier kayaking, the helicopters set down on this sand bar in a remote alpine lake. We explored the surroundings, while our pilot and guide set out tables and chairs and an amazing spread from Lepp Farm Market. The scrumptiousness of the food was accentuated by jaw-dropping surroundings.
This adventure had been more than a year in the making. It felt surreal when it came time to buckle into our helicopter seats. We had high expectations, which were blown out of the water with the incredible reality. We. Kayaked. On. A. Glacier!
Today, I’m on that same drive. It’s bittersweet—regret swirled with gratitude, remorse silver lined with affirmation. The difference is that this time, the road isn’t familiar. I don’t know what’s up ahead or how many miles it is to the next scenic overlook. I just know I’ll get there on time—probably with an unopened bottle of Aleve
After the 2016 elections, pundits everywhere called for all Americans to listen to voices different than our own. So last year, that’s exactly what I did with many of the books I read and the podcasts I downloaded. Many of … Continued
A year ago today, I saw the night sky for the first time in more than a week. My temporary home had been an ice-rated expedition ship, grunting to Antarctica and back during the frozen continent’s summer. It was wild … Continued
Sunday night, an EF2 tornado touched down about 2 miles from my house. 20.4 miles later, after growing into an EF3 tornado, it finally left my community alone. Somehow, only 146 homes sustained substantial damage; and “only” 22 homes were total losses. The storm was was fierce. An artifact from one house was found six miles from its flattened home.
I was instantly embarrassed that this thought hadn’t occurred to me instinctively. Right after that, I was struck by the notion that a massive, diverse, beautiful—breathtaking—place would be named for what it is not. A place where scientists constantly discover new realities is known for where it isn’t.