A Ghost From 1986 & An Orange Shark

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We all want to be seen on our level. We all want the big people in our world to smile at us, to lower their faces to ours, to affirm our efforts. We want those further along in life to talk with us as equals. We want those who seem all done—all grown up—to treat us like we are, too. This undercurrent keeps social media afloat. These desires lead to car payments and mortgages beyond prudence. These insecurities can push us to constructive self-improvement or inauthentic personas, hard work or cheating, striving or faking.

What Should I Do After I “Never Forget”?

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I’m still proud of my country. I still hate that thousands of innocent and heroic people died that day. I’m still amazed at the incredible character and sacrifice of those who ran toward danger rather than away—both at the sites of the attacks and later on foreign soil. I still understand why our elected officials made the decisions they did after the coordinated foreign attacks. But I don’t want to remember the same things my Facebook connections do about September 11. Even more, I wish the world had heard something very different from America than they have over the past 19 years.

The Blue Subaru at My Counselor’s Office

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An Old Testament prophet claimed that God wants to remove our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. He wants to make us more human, more in touch with how love and grace feel both to give and receive. He is revealing that intent and process at my counselor’s office. He is using hours in my sister’s passenger seat and at cafe tables to show me his heart—the prototype. He’s proving his adjacency on dusty trails, in cold streams, and in precipices overlooking summer lightning storms. And even in a tall station wagon parked next to mine outside a nondescript office building.

My Last Church Service with a Worship Feeder

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Before meeting Todd, I’d never been in a service where the person leading music checked out of their “duty” and just prayed on their knees until the instruments stopped. I’d never seen someone walk off the stage to comfort someone during a song. I’d never seen someone put down their mic and their ego and then shout praise or whisper prayers while everyone else kept singing. Years after these firsts, Todd lost his voice and still led our church services—just with his mic muted during the music. In every other church I’ve attended, I’d never seen anything like that. That role went to the person with the best voice, the most musical experience, or someone with the pedigree of specific liturgical castes.

Fighting Fire with Posture

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When my heart wants to stand and demand others to conform to my wishes and my worldview, I need to get low. To listen. To ask questions. To read or watch or listen to voices different than my own. I need to hold my hands open and relinquish my ego. I need to recognize the trauma or influences that have shaped others, and I need to admit I’m a product of the same.

The Weirdest Verse in the Bible

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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.

Finding Myself in Other People’s Words

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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.

The Day My Boyhood Dream Came True

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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.

The Night God Welcomed Me Into Darkness

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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.

The False Dichotomy Tearing Apart the American Church

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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.

An Adventure in Paradise Valley

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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.

A Director for the Light of the World

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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.

Lunch in Jurassic Park

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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.

Midlife Growing Pains

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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

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