Of course there is a war on Christmas

I don't buy the whole "war on Christmas" offense. Don't get me wrong, feel free to shop wherever you please, but, when did we as Christians get to the point that we feel offended if StuffMart doesn't support our religious holiday? Seems odd to me, and somewhat embarrassing, that North American Christianity is getting its feelings hurt so easily given the fact that we follow a Lord who non-violently surrendered himself to the point of death on a cross. Worldly principalities and powers can't understand the cross and will never embrace it. And if they do, then it is probably evidence that we have watered down or changed its message to be more appealing.

Advent Prayer: Waiting

God, we know that waiting for your salvation to break into the world is an essential rhythm of the spiritual life. Our knowledge of the necessity of waiting doesn't make the dark, lonely, and crushing silent moments easier to bear; but it does help us embrace waiting as a pathway to a deeper life with you. So, we come in faith, even if it just a flickering flame. We know a day is coming when light and life and joy will shine throughout eternity, but, today, we wait in darkness. God, we don't ask for much, but, today, would you illumine a small corner of the darkness and doubt of our lives that we might see and know that indeed, in Jesus' name, redemption does win? Waiting....

3 Year Tumorversary

Three years ago today a life died and a life was born. These weren’t two different lives but the same life.  A brief moment separated these two lives. November 11, 2010 was the ending of a life and November 12, 2010 was the birth of a new life. There have been many such moments in my life. Moments that marked the end of a previous way of being in order to give way to a new way of being. The day I submitted my heart to Jesus Christ, April 24, 1994. The day I said “I do” to Heidi Downs, February 3, 1996. The days my four children (Zach, Jake, Hannah, and Ben) came into this world. These are all days that mark a turning point, a chapter turning, a new way of being in this world. The time between November 11, 2010 and November 12, 2010 was just such a transition from one epoch to another. November 11, 2010 seemed so predictable and innocent. Life was progressing along just as expected. I was in the best physical shape of my life as a black belt instructor of martial arts. Our family was ordered just like we had dreamed, with Heidi being a homeschooling mom. I was two chapters of a thesis away from finishing my doctorate and my ministry role was just like I had hoped. Life was good. Life was hectic with four kids, but simple. When the sun rose November 12, 2010, life was no longer innocent and predictable, but chaotic, dark, and uncertain. November 12, 2010, after a seizure early that morning, I learned I have an Oligodendroglioma brain tumor. The next three years have been a roller coaster of treatments, setbacks, recovery, side effects, hope, despair, and a strange combination of hope and despair (still not sure what to call that). There are physical reminders that the previous life is gone: surgery scars, cysts on my spine from surgery debris, hair loss from radiation, memory deficits, balance issues, visual deficits, constant fatigue, aura seizure activity. Yes, the days of 360 spinning hook kicks are just a faded memory. Our family also shows the marks of this transition. It is now arranged differently with our kids in public school and Heidi finishing up her teacher certification. Yes, there are outward markers that the previous life is gone. But, there are inward markers as well. I can’t speak for my wife and kids, they will need to tell their own story. But for me, the previous life did not know this kind of suffering in the way the new life does. The previous life had only observed it from a distance. Hope was a stand-alone trait. Now, hope is mixed with despair. The hope is the same, that God will usher in a day of no more pain or fears, when he wipes away every tear, and where the burdens of this life will be no more. It’s just that now, that hope has some darker shades to it, and echoes of lament. One might say the life that died was much more victorious. But, there is an ominous long shadow cast over the new life that says, “maybe victory is not what we think it is.” The shadow is the cross of Jesus Christ. It reminds us that life is not always as it seems. The winners don’t always win and the losers don’t always lose. Sometimes beauty is found in the ugly. It may be hidden; we may need to search and go deeper, but it is there. Allow me to repeat a line I’ve posted before and shared numerous times in preaching, but captures my hope as I celebrate my 3rd tumorversary: If I ever find myself wondering if an experience has broken my heart or fixed my heart, it is probably evidence that I have stepped into that divine, thin space where heaven and earth meet, and I discover that my greatest fear (that this experience has destroyed me) has actually become my greatest hope (that this experience has transformed me). So, here’s to the birth of a new life, that was only possible because there was a death of an old life. “And the one who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5).

12 Lessons from the Mountain

Here are 12 thoughts, lessons, reflections, and observations from a week of climbing Mount Arkansas in Colorado with our youth group and a few adults. Some are more profound than others. Some are simply about bears and pooping.

1. God is not found on the mountaintop, but in the struggle of the journey. OK, God is not ONLY found on the mountaintop. Sometimes we assume the only places God is experienced are in the triumphs of life. We become triumphalistic and don’t create space for us all to be raw and honest about the despair that often accompanies life. Yet, it is in these very places that God is often experienced in the most intimate ways. It is not that pain is the preferred place to experience God, nor is God always immediately felt in pain. Sometimes God seems profoundly distant in our despair. Yet, I believe that the overwhelming presence of God can come in surprising ways out of our cries of his absence. The One who cried “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me” is the one who cried in the next breath, “Father, into your hands, I commit my spirit.” If Jesus shows us anything, it is that God walks beside us on the steep and rugged roads and through the dark and barren lands. In fact, we may not find him on the mountaintop at all, because he has descended to the valley to walk with those desperately clawing their way out of the pit.

2. The mountain doesn't show you who you are, but who you want to be. Sometimes in struggle we hear the words, “This will show you what you are made of.” I don’t think so. I know what I am made of and it is often not very much. I’m not that interested in who I am, but who I am becoming and will one day be. The stumbles and outright face-plants along the way have more than adequately revealed what I am made of. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in what this next step will be. I’m interested in going farther and higher than I have gone before. I want to push through and experience a depth with God that I haven’t before. I don’t want to go where I’ve been and merely rehearse what has been, I want to go where I haven’t been and reveal the desire for God I have, and take the steps that make that a reality. The person I am now and the height I have climbed to this point is not where I want to end the journey. It may show where I’ve been, but the next step I take will show where I’m going. The road is narrow and hard that leads to eternal life, don’t let anyone tell you it’s not. In North America, Christianity has developed a cheap grace.  It’s free, but it isn’t cheap. We have forgotten Jesus who said, “If you want to follow me, take up your cross.” Notice he said, “take up your cross.” Not “a” not “the,” but “your.” It is a steep and rugged and hard and long journey. And that is the journey I really care about.

3. Don't just yell down, but go down. It's one thing to yell down the mountain and say, "Hurry and come on up!" It's another to go down and walk beside others up the steep and rugged road of life. Such it is with God and us. He came in Jesus and walked with us. He calls us to walk with others.

4. OK, NOW WHAT? The trek from low camp to high camp was THE most physically demanding experience of my life, other than brain surgery and recovery. From high camp to summit attempt was scary because of the steep grade and loose rocks but not like hiking all day through the narrow path and brush with full pack up to high camp. The spiritual application is: THAT struggle represents the challenges of life; physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. Some of these we cause ourselves, some are caused by others, and some just happen, maybe by God's hand and maybe simply a cosmic hiccup. We bring all these challenges to God in lament: health, job, family, friends, enemies. God wants to hear of the struggle. But, then, there comes a point when God says, "OK. NOW WHAT?" This all may be true, now what are you going to do about it? We can moan and groan, and complain about how hard life is, and how the world is against us, but then we've got to suck it up and put one foot in front of the other and keep moving up the mountain. The mountain isn't going anywhere. Where are we going?

5. Reach for God. God certainly invites us to embrace our lives as a pathway to a new life (as steep and rugged as it may be) but he also invites us to turn the hidden despair, anxiety, and frustration, over this pathway, into a holy longing where we reach, not for different circumstances, but for more of God than we have right now. May we seek to fill that empty place in our lives where we despair, and where we long for something different, with God, not a particular resolution to our circumstances.

6. The Crowded Alone Time. The intentional 3 hour solo time on the hike is a challenge because even when we get away, we are still left with one of our greatest enemies...our own thoughts. We are faced with all our oughts, musts, should-haves,might-have-beens, disappointments, internal aches. We hide behind these voices because they keep us from going to that terrifying place that is our true, vulnerable self standing before a holy God. But if we can stay there long enough, we'll hear the still, small voice of God whispering to us all along that these broken aspects of our lives don't define us. The voice says, "what defines you, the truest thing about you, is that you are mine and are deeply loved."

7. If God's only goal was to get us to heaven, then why didn't he create us there in the first place? Our summit attempt was just that, an attempt. We got close but our guides (who are absolutely amazing by the way) decided we shouldn't go on. When the guides told us this was "our" summit, I waited for the groans. They never came. I was so proud of all the kids and their maturity. They spoke of "our" summit and were thankful to be where we were. All week we told them it wasn't about the summit but the journey. They got it. If the goal was to summit, then we could have driven up another mountain or be taken up on pack mules. Sometimes as Christians we speak and act as if our only goal is to get to heaven. The fact is, there is much to taking the journey. If God's goal was only to get us to heaven, then why didn't he create us there in the first place? God invites us to walk with him and others on this summit attempt of life, knowing that one day we'll top the hill and a wounded hand will be there to help us up and congratulate us for making the climb. But for now, it's enough to hold each other's hands and put one foot in front of the other learning lessons and being transformed along the way.

8. The joy of the hard road. We can’t always choose the path we take. Sometimes we do choose our path and our lives are exactly as we have designed them to be and we live with the consequences of that, for good or ill, but sometimes other people insert themselves. Sometimes, things just go wrong with our bodies and the laws of physics come into play, and we have no control over those things; health, family, accidents, jobs, relationships. But, though we often are not in complete control of the journey, we are in control of our attitude along the way. Sometimes the path is so rugged, steep, and treacherous, and our bodies are on the brink of giving out, we can't imagine going on. One more step seems to be the one to do us in. We can stop and refuse to go on, never knowing how far we could have gone. Or, we can inch our way forward complaining the entire way making those around us miserable. Or, we can take a deep breath, suck it up, shut it up, and keep inching our way up knowing that the strength to climb is in there, we just need to dig it out. It really is the ultimate metaphor for the Christian life, when we not only see the struggle as something to be endured, but as a joy to be embraced. "let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." Heb 12:1-2

9. Yes, you can do a "twosie" on a mountain. I'll reserve this one for private replies as it pertains to the convergence of three realities; one being the fact that there is no indoor plumbing on the mountain; the second being the physiological necessity of the elimination of nutritional by-products by the body, otherwise known as "pooping," and the third, being on said mountain for almost a week. As we began our meeting for Trek earlier in the year, one of the main questions was, “How does one use the little boys or little girls room, are their rest stops that have been strategically positioned on the mountain with facilities, running water, indoor plumbing, vending machines? No, there is just a mountain. "Well, then how do you.....? And then what about......?" Yes, all on the mountain, behind a tree, leaning against a tree, hanging from a tree, really, however you can. In the wise words of Forrest Gump, "That's all I've got to say about that."

10. Don't allow the experience to be wasted. Many people walked many steps. Many knees endured many scrapes. Many laughs billowed through the valleys. Many tears were shed around the nightly devotional ring. Many sacrifices were made by others for us to make the journey there and back. Many who were stronger could have gone faster and farther. But, we made it to OUR summit. Embrace the experience. Learn from it. Grow from it. Allow it to transform you. Step away from the mountain a different person than when you stepped on it. The predictability of life, the well worn ruts of life say, "The mountain didn't mean much. Just a small experience." NO! It was your experience. You can't take the mountain with you, and honestly, most of us wouldn't want to, but you can take the experience, you can take the emotion, the relationships, the pain, the feeling of accomplishment, the feeling of defeat. They make up you now. Embrace it, and from this day forward, live differently, live the mountain.

11. Bears generally don't like you, just your food. 

This observation is mainly for our teenage boys in the group: When someone tops the hill and yells down, "BEAR," that generally is not an invitation to run up the hill with your camera to take a picture of said bear. Bears on mountains are not like bears in zoos. They are not caged, they do not like you, and they will eat you. Yes, we did come face to face with a bear. Well, I didn’t. I bravely waited with the rest of the group, far away from the bear, so as to protect them in case the bear circled back around. It had gotten into our packs the night before; unzipped the zipper, stuck his hand in and enjoyed our food. The next evening while we were having devo (it was still daylight mind you) he was up the hill getting into our packs once again. When a group of kids went to their packs they came face to face with it. My son was the first in line to encounter it. They mostly froze, but one girl yelled down "BEAR!" Some boys told her to not yell because they wanted to get a picture, others ran up to see. Again, I don't think they grasped the concept of "WILD" bear. Our Youth Minister did get a picture while it was running over the ridge. The guides estimated it to be 400-500 pounds. Oh, and this was only the second time in thirty years that a Wilderness Expeditions group had encountered a bear. 

12. Walking off a cliff. We spent some time repelling. I was not the first to go down. In fact, I was very reluctant. I knew I would do it, but was not that thrilled about it. I get vertigo very easy and the thought of falling back first and splattering what brains I have left on the rocks below was not that appealing, though the guides assured me it didn’t happen often. I did realize I had an advantage, because it would seem that the more brains one had the less likely one would be to walk down a cliff backwards (ever seen the Darwin awards?). So, I stood and watched. I watched people not think much about it and practically jump off the ledge. Then I saw people like me who gingerly tiptoed their way to the edge only to be paralyzed by the thought of becoming vulture food. Being the analytical type, I analyzed the situation and realized there were really only two things necessary to standing on the edge, leaning back and walking down a cliff backwards. First, do not look down. That seemed to be the point at which people froze. The place to look was in the eyes of the guide who was directing you down. Listen carefully and do exactly as the guide says. It became impossible to listen to the instructions as long as the repeller’s eyes were not locked in on the guide’s. The second necessity was trust. You had to trust that the system you were attached to was not going to fail you. If one could block everything else out and focus on those two things (the eyes and voice of the guide, and the trust in the system) then walking down a cliff backwards was not an issue. I did that very thing and had no problem repelling down the cliff. A couple of obvious applications: First, that really is a good starting point in our relationship with God. Trust, listen to him, do what he says, and don’t look down. If we can’t get passed that basic starting point then the rugged journey ahead of us will likely not even get started. Second, one of the hardest parts of repelling was watching my boys do it. I knew I had to let go of control and apply the same trust application for them. I will admit that I did go up to them and give an extra little tug to tighten their harness and make sure it was secured correctly. But, ultimately, I had to stand back and watch them go off the side of the cliff. I realize that they are on their own journey with God. I can influence as much as possible, but I have to be willing to allow them their own journey. I can’t go down the side of the cliff for them. Ultimately, I must stand there with everyone else and watch them take the leap. It is that way in our relationships with all people in our lives. We can’t take the journey for them. They have to step off the edge for themselves. Oh, and by the way, everyone in our group made it down, though some did take longer than others…that also is a spiritual application.