Desperate

Many people are not aware that when I was younger, I was the survivor of an abduction attempt.  By younger I mean that I had just turned 40.  I was alone in the church one Sunday night…at least I thought I was alone.  I heard some scuffling of feet approaching my office from a nearby hallway. This seemed unusual as it was already past 8:30 p.m. and unless there was an appointment…which there wasn’t…there was no reason for anyone else to be in the building.  I rose from my desk and made my way to the office door to inspect the hallway.  When I looked to the right I saw five young men of various statures looking at me with curious smug smirks. 

“Hello boys, is there something I can do for yo…”

“GET HIM!” the largest of the 5 yelled, and I was suddenly bear hugged from behind.

I saw large heavy white zipties appear in the hands of a long haired mugger and heard him bark, “I got his feet!”

This was not good!  Instinctively, I allowed 20 plus years of wrestling experience to take over and I fought back.  With the use of my arms, hands and legs I was able to bring one of the five assailants to the floor and reverse the position of the bear hugger.  Fortunately for me, another of the five was either not expecting the retaliatory fight back or was too anxious to continue the attempted abduction, because he fled, leaving only four.

Two of the remaining four would be considered smaller in stature than average, but the other two were much more stalwart.  I was able to keep the four young men from securing me with their bonds for a fair amount of time before my ankles were finally encased in the zip-ties…though not yet securely. 

I succeeded in immobilizing one of the smaller assailants with his own zip-ties and held one of the larger attackers securely in my arms, preventing his efforts. Despite this, the remaining two continued to attempt to bind me and I knew I could not win this fight. I felt myself becoming desperate. 

I considered my options which were few.  Then I noticed the long locks of hair hanging from the tall skinny mugger and I did what I had to do.  I reached up with my only free appendage and I grabbed a handful of the 28” rockstar hair and I pulled.

“Oh man! Dude! Not the hair! Ahhh! The hair! He’s got my hair! Let go of my hair!”

I did not let go.  In fact nothing short of death was going to get me to let go of this fistful of hair.  In fact, I took the liberty of pulling the hair harder and in different directions with every shift of my fighting body.

“Whoa! Ryan! Take it easy!  Let go of Daniel’s hair!”  Said the largest of the remaining four, “We just wanted to take you out for your 40^th birthday!  We asked Sarah if we could kidnap you and she said , “yes.” So that’s what we are doing.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What?! We were going to throw you in the trunk and take you to Buffalo Wild Wings for your birthday.”

“I repeat…What’s wrong with you?...Next time…just ask.”

We went to BWW’s, and it was amazing.

There comes a time in our lives where we will in some way find ourselves desperate. These are the times when we may be willing to do things that we wouldn’t normally think ourselves capable of.  It is possible that may find ourselves desperate and looking for hope and will do just about anything to find help.

In Matthew 9:18-34, we find a series of events, filled with desperate people.  We find desperate parents, desperate men and desperate women, of which all have something in common…they are desperate for something that can only come from the hand of God.  Jesus meets them in their desperation.

May we too find Jesus in the moments of our desperation.

 Uncontainable

It is well known that I am an exceptionally frugal individual.  What perhaps is lesser known is that my wife also shares this deep value.  I am pleased to report that this super power has become evident in our offspring as well.  Most notably, the older that our children become, the more frugal they seem to become.  This would leave our youngest in the greatest need of growth in this area and our two college students are exemplifying their parents well. 

It was just this last summer that while my son was gathering with some of his friends in St. Cloud MN, to hang out and eat and do the stuff that recent high school graduates do…(trusting that it was not like my decision), that he found himself needing to buy himself a supper.  He insisted that the entire group take him to Sam’s Club where he could get his entire supper for $3 while the remainder of the group spent somewhere $10-$20 for their respective meals.  It is quite possible that he converted several of his friends to the power of frugility that day.  “Wow Isaac! You got all of that for $3!!!”

That’s my boy!!

I have noticed that over the last 6 months or so my children have been saving disposable coffee cups and glasses in order to make their own custom hand crafted coffee beverages at home as opposed to paying the exorbitant prices of other coffee shops. 

I am so proud. 

It is painful for me to take a moment to admit…that sometimes frugality can be a detriment. There is only so much life that a disposable coffee cup can endure.  Be sure to look for the warning signs.  If the rim begins to get wobbly, or you find yourself wondering, “Why is my leg feel like it is both wet and on fire,” at the same time, then it is possible that coffee is dripping from the bottom and all over you pants.  These could be signs that it “might” be time to get a new disposable cup.

There comes a time when an old cup just cannot contain the goodness of a strong dark roast coffee any longer. In fact, if you insist on using an old disposable coffee cup with fresh hot coffee, you may find yourself ready to sue a specific fast food chain to somehow ebb the pain that the scalding coffee has caused on your already sun burnt skin…and pride.

The problem is that an old worn out coffee cup was not meant to hold the treasure of a delicious dark brew.

In a much more magnificent illustration, Jesus talks about how the incredible Gospel of Grace cannot be contained in the confines of the old way of thinking and understanding.  Jesus has brought a new and living way and the mercies that are new every morning cannot be walled in with self-righteous thought.

Jesus is ready to blow our minds…and our containers, with his uncontainable mercy as found in Matthew 9:9-17.

May you find yourself ready to be overflowed with the uncontainable mercy of Jesus Christ.

 Prove It

The elementary school years are a melting pot of mixed emotions.  It is like a big bowl of passion porridge.  The stewed ingredients include; excitement of recess, drudgery of social studies, expectation of lunch, fear of the playground bully, confusion toward the female gender, and infatuation of Crystal the 3^rd grade class beauty.  When you mix these together you get the insecure, wishy washy presence of the average 3^rd grade boy trying to do all that he can do just to fit in.  Inevitably mistakes are made on this journey to popularity. 

I remember one crucial error of calculation, halfway through that unremarkable year of 1984.  We had been dismissed to our daily lunch period at 11:45 in which we ate our fish stick on a bun while avoiding the yellowed lukewarm green beans and washed it down with room temperature skim milk.  Following lunch we were allowed a brief trip to the restrooms before recess, which is where I made my critical mistake. While congregating near the urinals I made my attempt to be accepted into the upper athletic tier of the 3^rd grade class. I blurted to my buddies, “Hey fellas, did you know that you could punch me in the stomach as hard as you can and I could take it just by tightening my abs?”  In truth, this is my dad’s fault as he told me a cool story of someone who apparently could do that.

“Really?”

“Yep, the secret is just to tighten up your stomach muscles really tight beforehand.”

“Prove it.”

“Ummm, What’s that?”

“I said prove it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, let me punch you in the stomach.”

“Ummm, Ok, I guess…”

The next thing I knew I was standing before Jeremy as he let me have it in the gut.  To my great astonishment, it worked.  I had taken the hit and lived.  Boy was I glad that was over. 

“See, what I mean?” I said, “Now let’s go out to recess.”

“Not so fast.” Mikey barked. “It is my turn.”

Mikey proceeded to hit me…as did Jason…and then Eric...

Though I wasn’t enjoying it I was enduring it.  But then…a huge 4^th grader unaffectionately known as Shawn the Spawn walked into the restroom.  “Hey losers…what are you doing?”

“Shawn!  You have got to see this…Ryan can let anyone punch him in the gut and he can just take it and stand there.”

“Let’s see him prove it…it’s my turn.”

Shawn layed all of his 4^th grade body mass into my gut and I felt the fish stick launch from my gut and lodge into my sinuses.  My eyes waters, I leaned back against the wall and hurled the rest of my skim milk across the lavatory floor. 

“Huh huh…I guess not” Grunted Shawn and walked out.  All of the other boys followed.  I went out to recess. 

It is one thing to say something, but it is quite another to prove it.  In an incredible moment of Jesus’ ministry as recorded in Matthew 9:1-8, we find him in a massive crowd of people including disciples, observers and religious leaders.  Suddenly, people tear a hole in the roof and lower their paralyzed friend down to Jesus.  Jesus says “You Sins are forgiven.”  The Pharisees’ response echo’s the theme, “Impossible! Prove it!”

And then…Jesus proves it.  

Jesus is who he says he is…and he proves it.  He is the savior of the world because He has the authority to forgive us of our sins. 

May we come to accept the free gift of forgiveness offered by Christ alone.

 

 8 Miles...per Hour

I was fishing alone in the late afternoon of a hot August day.  My wife had taken the children to Michigan to visit her parents for a week and I decided to take advantage of this time of solace to pursue the allusive Walleye on the upper portions of the Mississippi River.  Despite the promise of strong evening storms fueled by the excessive summer humidity, I launched my 1957 aluminum fishing boat into the water and propelled southward on the great river.  After motoring over 20 minutes and nearly 3 ½ miles downstream I powered down the antique Evinrude and lowered the trolling motor. 

Despite being over a half a century old, the boat and motor are incredibly reliable.  The venerable 7.5 hp engine starts every time without fail and on a good day it can slide the boat through the water at a whopping 6 miles per hour with the throttle fully expressed. 

The fishing proved to be exceptional on this sunny afternoon.  I am not a great Walleye fisherman, but I had already boated 3 of the favored species in my short 45 minutes of active fishing and was on my way to my first ever limit of Minnesota’s state fish.  However, as I turned to make another pass at the current honey hole, the wind also turned.  Seemingly out of nowhere a strong wind from the south erupted and a dark wall of cloud could be seen in the distance growing more ominous by the minute.

As much as I longed to continue my pursuits of a limit I decided that my 7.5 horses was no match for the storm that could be seen bearing down in my direction.  I pulled up the trolling motor, slid my arms into my life vest and pulled the cord on the twin cylinder Evinrude.  Faithfully, the engine roared to life on the first pull and I gunned the throttle.  I nearly lost the filling in my right side bicuspid as I went from 0-6mph in 96 seconds. 

I was racing the storm home and losing…badly.  The winds continued to increase and the rain began to fall...if horizontal is still considered falling.  The strong south winds kept the shoreline flags extended straight northward.  Suddenly, the winds that seemed as strong as they could possibly be, blew even harder.  I gripped the tiller handle tightly and motored forward.  I noticed that my gps had moved from 6mph to an incredible 8.5!  This boat had never gone so fast!

Due to the favorable tailwind, I made it back to the access in a record 19 minutes.  I was soaked from head to toe and loaded my boat onto the trailer as quickly as I could and just as I finished up…the storm passed…and the waters turned calm again.  So…I went back out fishing and caught…nothing more.

This frightening event was far from the experience that the Disciples would have had in Matthew 8 in the midst of the storm on the Sea of Galilee.  Yet, I can at least relate to the sense of fear and concern for my own safety in the sudden and powerful storms of summer. 

My story is also missing the most significant detail of what is found in Matthew 8.  In this Biblical account we find the incredible revelation of the REAL Jesus.  Could you imagine your own reaction if you had been in the boat and in the middle of the most dangerous and chaotic storm of your life, Jesus says, “Quiet! Be Still!”  And then suddenly…it is still.  Imagine 47 million tons of water suddenly becoming still as glass.  The winds and the waves obey Him.  Everything obeys him…because He IS GOD!

If only I could come to understand that I do not need to fear, because Jesus himself says that he is with me and that He will never leave me nor forsake me!

May we come to see who Jesus really is…and in doing so, grow in our trust of Him!

 Jason

Jason was cool.  In fact, everything about him was cool.  He was the embodiment of everything that I wanted to be as a 5^th grade male, but wasn’t.  He was funny, athletic, witty, intelligent, well liked by teachers and seemingly all of the 5^th grade girls in Mr. Nelson’s class swooned over him.  In efforts to be like him, I attempted to take on his characteristics.  I mimicked the way that Jason walked, talked and laughed.  I even tried to dress like Jason.  When Jason began wearing pink shirts and white Miami Vice inspired sports coats, I too began to wear “hipper clothing.” The problem lied in the fact that I didn’t have any pink shirts and would have had to resort to either wearing my mother’s pink shirts which were too big or my little sister’s which were way too small.  Additionally the only “sport coat” I could get my hands on was my grandpas old suit coat which was gray and smelled like cigarette smoke.  In the end I settled for a blue pair of suspenders and a white t-shirt.  It did not have quite the same effect.

Needless to say my imitation of Jason was a perpetual exercise of failure.  I could not compete with his naturally suave mannerisms nor draw the attention of the attractive girls with big 80’s hair of the upper echelon’s of Wadena Elementary School. 

One day as I was practicing the fine are of Jasonism, the object of my idolatry dared me to enter the girls bathroom.

“Come on Ryan! Do it! There isn’t anyone in there…just run in and run back out!”

“Oh man, Jason…I don’t know.  Why don’t you do it?”

“Because I have done it lots of times! You need to do it! It is such a rush!”

“Ok…I guess…but you have to stand look out, ok?”

“Sure thing! I got you!”

I worked myself up into a frenzy and with my heart racing and a cold sweat running down my neck I ran into the girls bathroom.  I remember thinking as I turned around to run back out, “huh, what’s the big deal?  It’s just like the boys’ but cleaner and less stinky.” My stomach was fluttering wildly as I emerged from the forbidden room and back into the halls of lower education.  At the moment of my exit, I exhaled the breath that I hadn’t realized that I was holding and took in a deep refreshing breath of the cool stale elementary hallway air.

I had done it.  What a relief!  I was so pleased that I hadn’t gotten caug…  “RYAN! What do you think you are doing?”

It was Mr. Nelson himself.  I hadn’t realized that Jason was MIA.  In fact, all of my buddies were gone.  All that stood before me was Mr. Nelson and a half a dozen confused 5^th grade girls standing behind him.  I can’t prove it but I am pretty sure I had been ratted out.

“I asked you a question….What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“What were you doing coming out of the girl’s bathroom?”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I went with the only think I could do…I attempted to cast the blame elsewhere.  “Jason told me to do it!”

“Did he? Tell me, If Jason told you to jump off of a cliff…would you do it?”

I told Mr. Nelson “No,” but in reality…maybe.

I find myself astounded as to who I have been willing to follow and even to what lengths.  My past has been far too littered with the following of others and far too seldom following the path of Christ.  Matthew 8:18-22 and Luke 9:57-62, reveal a picture of what it really looks like to follow Jesus.  Jesus does not shy away from the reality that there is a real cost to following Him.  Jesus never promises the life of ease on this journey.  In fact, the promise is just the opposite.  It is a journey of struggle and suffering. The difference between Jason and Jesus is that Jesus won’t leave me, and Jesus won’t lead me astray and Jesus is worth following.

I received my reward in full in following Jason, but now, I long for the reward that can only come in the difficult journey of following Christ.

May we come to choose to follow Jesus.  I guarantee that it won’t be easy…but he guarantees that it will be worth it.

 Wet Paint

 

We have all seen the signs…we find them posted on doors, walls, banisters, floors and even road ways. These signs reflect a caution…a warning…an alarm of sorts, drawing people’s attention to the danger of economic loss, when a less than observant person may suddenly find a white streak of paint running across their brand new Nike sweatshirt.  It may alert towards the avoidance of embarrassment of NOT seeing the white streak that has suddenly appeared across the backside of the dark washed jeans that they currently don.  The sign reads: WET PAINT.

It is likely that each American at some point or another has had a less than desirable encounter with wet paint.  Whether the encounter stemmed from the ill placed finger paints of 5 year old Tommy in kindergarten or falling from your ladder into a poorly place bucket of latex, we have all been scarred by painted memories…or perhaps paint brush impalements.

I remember coming home from a funeral one afternoon in which I was officiating a number of years ago to find my garage floor covered in a mass of smeared white streaks.  Upon stepping into the work space I gasped believing that I had inadvertently come upon the murder scene of one Casper the Friendly Ghost.  However, upon further examination I realized that it was not the un-bodily fluid of a ghost but rather…paint…and lots of it.

Painting almost always appears on the long list of jobs to do around the house and with my busy schedule it is hard to find times to fit all of the tasks within the 24 hours a day framework.  During my obligatory absence, my amazing wife had rallied some of the children to help with the painting of the shed.  Unfortunately the painting of the shed accidentally led into the white massacre of the garage floor.  The paint was everywhere, and as I walked through the garage in my “only wear at weddings and funerals dress suit,” I took a rag and carefully began to scrub at the paint stain trying to clean up as much as I could.

My wife had more sense than I did in those days and quickly reprimanded me from cleaning the white paint in my formal attire.

“You do NOT want to get paint on your suit!!”

Fortunately for me I adhered to her sensible advice.  Unfortunately for her and my children, I had a less than stellar response to the situation.

There is ONE thing that you especially DO NOT want to do with wet paint…touch it.  Once you touch wet paint, it spreads and spreads and ends up places that you never could have fathomed that it would or could reach.

In Matthew 8:1-17, we find Jesus do the unthinkable in his culture and context.  He knowingly touches the proverbial “wet paint,” of the society. In this portion of scripture, Jesus encounters three noteworthy people and does that which their culture would not consider doing…he touches them.  He touches some of them physically, but more so he touches their hearts and brings healing into their lives.  He touches an untouchable leper, a loathsome Roman soldier and a desperately sick mother. 

In this incredible passage, Jesus brings more than just physical healing, he also begins his healing work to the souls of people and the breaking of the curse of sin and death…which he crushes when he goes to the cross.

May we find Jesus as our healer. He has the power to heal our physical, spiritual, emotional and eternal needs.

 Gas Jockey

My first “real job” was at a local full service fueling station in Wadena, Minnesota.  Prior to entering into the realms of W-4 employment, I had spent a few summers walking behind a lawn mower giving mediocre effort to cutting grass for a few local business. This however was different.  I was initially hired as a Gas Jockey, in which, I would diligently tend to the vehicles that would drive up to the pumps looking for gas and other automotive services.

(Be-ding, Be-ding)

“Good afternoon ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“Could I get 10 gallons of regular? Oh, and would you wash the windshield, check the oil…and the tire pressure…maybe wash the headlights too…it would probably be a good idea to check the transmission fluid, power steering fluid, washer fluid, brake fluid…and then my son told me I should have you check the muffler belt and the blinker fluid too…”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Could you do it quickly…I am kind of in a hurry.”

“Yes ma’am.”

After I finished the extensive service I told her ‘thank you’ and held out my left hand hoping for a tip, but she just slapped my hand in thanks and drove off.

I remember one lady would come in on a weekly basis only to have me wash her windshield.  She sat in the vehicle and pointed to each bug that needed to be scrubbed off of the outer service until the windshield shone like new.  She would usually toss me a quarter as she shared her verbal appreciation and drove off.

Nearing the end of my first year, I was trained on a variety of other responsibilities that promoted me from part time Gas Jockey to part time Grease Monkey.  It was here that I was educated on the how tos of wrenching on vehicles, including oil changes, spark plugs, as well as muffler and alternator replacements.  I was even trained in the art of tire replacement and repair.

Tire work quickly became one of my favorites.  I would even imagine myself working for a NASCAR pit crew replacing tires on rims and cars as efficiently as possible. 

“Ryan! What do you think you are doing!?” The boss exclaimed one Saturday afternoon.

“Replacing tires like I am working on Richard Petty’s Pontiac Grand Prix.”

“Mrs. Floyd’s Ford LTD does not get racing slicks! Now put the white walled touring tires back on!!”

One of the great lessons I learned (the hard way) with this job was the authority of the Boss.

What the Boss said…is what I was expected to do.

I was working the closing shift alone one Sunday evening and as soon as 9:00.01 rolled around I killed the lights and began closing out the till.  I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could to go hang out with all of my friends…well…both of them anyway.  As I was closing out the till, a man in a pick-up truck pulled up to the pumps and looked in to me.  I looked out the window and shook my head.  He dropped his head, put the truck back into gear and drove away.

The next day the Boss invited me into her office and shared some ‘words’ with me. 

“When a customer pulls up and wants gas, we give them gas.  Even if you are closing out the till…you will give them gas and reclose the till afterwards.  Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Do you like your job?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Would you like to keep your job?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then you will do what I say.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And I did.

Our lives are filled with authorities.  The greatest authority of all is God himself.  Jesus (God in the flesh), concludes his Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 7, in which he powerfully states that we ought to hear his words…and do them.  If we are willing to hear and do what Jesus says, he insists that our obedience to him, will give us the foundation to endure anything that this life has to throw at us.  He is our Rock and our Hope.  Though this world may crumble, we still have Jesus for eternity. He gives us the foundation and strength to do what he asks us to do…follow Him.

May we come to see that His words offer our only Hope for eternal life with Him.