Never Again

I have a long history with Track and Field.  I have been involved in coaching the sport for 27 years.  Before that I earned 4 varsity letters with the Wadena Deer Creek Wolverines. Despite having more than 30 years of experience I must confess that as a coach…I am ok…but as an athlete…I was REALLY …mediocre…at best. 

As a high school track athlete I had flashes of what I am sure the coaches saw as great potential.  I was most competitive as a discus thrower but when it came time to execute in the clutch…I choked. 

Additionally, I remember Coach Rick attempting to establish and develop in me what he believed to be a great 400m runner.  He trained me hard through the workouts and challenged my goals and worked endlessly to brainwash me into attacking the one lap race. 

There were times when he would almost have me convinced that I could do it…”maybe…just maybe,” I began to wonder… “could I actually break the 50 second mark?” 

“You can do this!  Sprint hard out of the blocks! Get as fast as you can in the first 100m and then hold that speed through the back stretch.  When you hit the halfway point…you need to be under 25 second.  Then dig in again and build and then give it all you got for the final straight.”

“Ok Coach,” I said.

When it came time to execute my thought patterns usually followed something like… “Ugh, I don’t want to do this.”

When the gun fired, I would take off hard and after the first 25 meters I would think, “I feel tired already.”

People would press me on the back stretch and I would think, “This is stupid, I can’t run that fast”

When I hit the corner the Coach would yell, “You gotta go!”

Rather than believing him I would think, “I want to die! Why don’t you get out here and run this!”

Upon finishing the one minute of torture the coach would show me the stop watch and say, “Nice Job! 54.65 that’s your fastest yet!”

I would think, “Ugh…Never again!”

But each meet I would be entered into at least one 400m race.  

There came a meet when everything would change.  I was entered into the 4x400m relay…the final race of the meet.  The day was unseasonably cold even for an April evening in Minnesota.  The meet had gone late.  It was dark and the spotlights lit the field like a Friday night football game.  To make matters worse it began to rain.  I was running the 3^rd leg and by the time I received the baton, I was soaked, cold and our team was already in last place and my motivation was gone.  I was done.  I didn’t see the value. I didn’t like the event. I didn’t want to be there and this was the last thing that I wanted to do.

I received the stick and I ran…or more accurately…I kind of jogged.  I finished in 65 seconds. Perhaps my worst time in 3 years.  I cannot express to you how upset my coach was.  He never placed me in another 400m race ever again.

It made sense really.  If I wasn’t willing to produce the fruit of what was expected of a runner, why would he continue to invest in me in that way?

I didn’t mind at the time, but looking back, I wish that I had approached things differently.

Jesus does something similar in Matthew 21:18-27.  Jesus is walking with his disciples and he comes across a fig tree that is worthless because it is not producing the expected fruit of a fig tree.  Jesus curses the tree and says to the tree that it will never produce fruit again.  The contrast follows in the later verses where it is implied that the Jewish leaders are in the same way not producing fruit that is worth producing. 

May we come to see that Jesus passionately wants to produce good fruit in and through our lives.  May we submit to him and allow him to do the good work of producing fruit that lasts and impacts the world for His sake.

 Krazy Karl

There was a man in my home town who was known by just about everyone.  His name was Karl and he was often referred to as Krazy Karl.  He was known to ride his bike around Wadena every day no matter the weather or the temperature.

Karl was often laughed at, mocked and teased.  He likely was unaware of most of the teasing.  Though he could be known to get riled up and a bit frustrated at times from the constant banter of community teenagers.

Most people ignored Karl not wanting to attempt to engage him in conversation as it was nearly impossible to understand any of his guttural incoherent utterances.

 It was common to see him puffing away at cigars as he pedaled his old steel Schwinn single speed from the Hardee’s on one end of town to the Jim’s Eastside Mobile on the other. 

I knew this because when I turned 16 years old, I became a gas jockey at that full service fueling station known as Jim’s Eastside Mobile.  Karl stopped into the shop regularly.  In fact, like clockwork he would arrive every Saturday morning and slur the same question in a raspy throaty voice.

“Jey Kiddo!, Ju gut eny quaters fo me?”

Karl collected the 1976 bi-centennial quarters.  Knowing this, I and all of the other workers at the station would set aside any of the memorial quarters for when he would inevitably arrive every Saturday morning.

“Sure do Karl! I have 3 of them set aside for you here.”

We made the exchange, he handed me .75 cents and I intern set the 3 preserved coins into his hands.

Karl would linger a long time on those Saturdays.  He would spend his time smoking Swisher Sweets and rambling mostly incoherent sentences and phrases.  At one point I remember him in the back shop with me as I was working on an oil change on a Pontiac Grand Am.  Karl began slamming his fist against the right front metal fender proclaiming, “Dey dunt maak dem like dey yous to kiddo…nudding but plasdic.”

“Karl! You can’t punch people’s cars! You are going to make a dent…that’s not plastic…it’s metal.”

I came to really enjoy my time with Karl.  It was common that I would see him around town and I would greet him and we would chit chat briefly, mostly about quarters and cars and sometimes his hemorrhoids caused by his bike seat…yes…our relationship had gone that deep.

One of the greatest lessons that I learned from the relationship with Karl was about dignity. I don’t know that very many people treated Karl with respect or saw him as someone who deserved to be treated with dignity.

I wonder…who gives a person dignity?  Is it me, or is it God?  I think when the Bible says that God created them male and female...and in His likeness…God is placing great dignity on human beings. 

In Matthew 21:12-18, Jesus enters the temple courts and finds that the sacred space has been defiled, and filled with an insurmountable amount of corruption.  This space was to be set apart for God and is being used to degrade and defile others.  People are treating the space with contempt, they are treating others with contempt and they are treating Gentiles as animals without dignity.

May we come to see people with the eyes of God and treat them with the dignity of humanity as we share the love of Jesus to all.

Humble

For decades I have driven less than adequate vehicles.  This includes my first car, a 1974 Chevy Nova coupe.  It had a mediocre but bullet proof 250 ci straight six under the hood.  That engine could run even without oil! Don’t ask how I know this.  Aside from the never ending engine, the rest of the car was a piece of trash.  The gas tank leaked, there was no power steering, no power brakes, the exhaust leaked significantly at the manifold, the drivers side door didn’t work, a headlight was out, as well as a tail light and when it was snowing outside the vehicle, it was also snow inside the vehicle…no it was not a convertible. 

I have also driven other junky cars including a Ford escort, Toyota Celica, Pontiac J2000 station wagon and a 1981 Plymouth Grand Fury. 

The Grand Fury was an old boxy car that sailed like a boat down the high way.  The exhaust had a tendency to leak up into the trunk and the back draft carried it back into the cockpit.  It was difficult to find a girl who was willing to ride in the car and on the rare occasion that one did, all I heard was complaints about the smell.  Therefore, I often found myself alone delivering pizzas on Friday nights. 

It was truly a humble automobile.  However, it did contain some invisible secrets.  The car had a powerful and snappy 318 V8 with a 4 barrel carburetor, a posi-traction rear axle and to top it off it was endowed with full racing suspension.  I must admit that my younger self took advantage of the car’s hidden horsepower at stoplights a time or two. 

On one such occasion, I found myself waiting at a red light waiting for the green to shine alongside a classic flame painted Chevy Bel Air.  I am pretty sure that I surprised my opponent when we both floored our accelerators and began racing to the merge sign. 

Imagine my pleasure when I beat him to the merging of the lanes.  I celebrated my achievement…alone…in my vehicle...which didn’t even have a working radio.

The reality is that my humble Plymouth had a power that was not visible to the outsider.  Many wouldn’t have known that car’s history as a former highway patrol car. 

I think that in some ways, this is the picture of what is happening as Jesus enters Jerusalem in a triumphal moment as found in Matthew 21:1-11.

Jesus comes at the King…the true King and yet he comes in perhaps the most humble way imaginable.  He comes gentle in spirit and riding on the foal of a donkey.

Despite the humble path that Jesus takes, he is coming in a power that no one can fathom.  His power will conquer both sin and death!

The King has come and is coming!

May we follow the humble path that he leads before us. 

 The Pursuit

I have very little experience hunting waterfowl.  In fact, I have only participated in the pursuit of water bound birds twice.  On one occasion, a friend of mine and I were invited to a goose hunt in Western Minnesota with his Father in Law.  I figured it would be a simple, grab my shotgun, some 3 inch 4 shot loads and go along for the ride.  Little did I realize, that my friend’s father in law had a different plan in mind.  Within the first 10 minutes of the 3 hour journey, our elderly guide produced two wooden goose calls from a pocket deep in his overalls and handed one to each of us.

“All right boys, have either of you ever used a goose call before?”

“Nope.” I stated.

“Me neither.” Replied my friend.

“Good, then you haven’t developed any bad habits.” 

The man then proceeded to insert a cassette tape into the dash of his Chevy Silverado which began to describe the art of goose calling.

After nearly 3 hours of “too whitting” into the wooden call my lips were chapped and my cheeks ached from puckering.

We went to bed early in a camper that was filled with mosquitoes and woke up having found very little rest.

We navigated in the dark to his duck blind where we sat for 2 hours without seeing a bird in the sky or on the water.  Finally, after eating all of my morning snacks by 9:30 a.m. two honkers could be heard wondering into our air space. 

“Give them a couple of quick calls boys.”

We did…sort of. Between the three of us it sounded like one goose was battling a gerbil riding a piglet.

Despite our lack luster calling, the two ignorant Canadians came swooping in.

“TAKE EM!”

The three of us popped our heads out of the blind with our firearms shouldered.  Six quick blasts resounded from the 3 scatter guns and there were “two geese a layin…” in the water.

Overall it was an enjoyable experience.  Enough so that I decided to try duck hunting on my own since I had gone to the trouble of buying the waterfowl shot and the appropriate licenses. 

I found a few small ponds that I wanted to try in the area of Cushing MN.  I didn’t have a call…or waders…or decoys…or a dog…just me and my little Elmer Fudd style shotgun.

I slowly snuck up on my first pond and was rewarded with a mass exodus of wood ducks exploding from the surface.  I began shooting wildly, aiming at any airborne bird in my range.  After 9 shots from my double barrel side by side, I saw two small ducks floating dead in the water. 

“Hmmm…sure could use a dog right now.” I thought.  Followed by, “Or some waders.”

I am not one to walk away from a challenge…nor from meat that is potentially offered to my table.  So I did what any rational thinking man would do…I went down to my "basic necessary attire" and went to pursue my birds.  I have not gone duck hunting since.

I find it remarkable, as to what I am willing to do in the investments of my pursuits. I came to consider this week, “Do I pursue Jesus with such vigor.”

In Matthew 20:29-34 we find two blind men who pursue Jesus in an incredible way. 

May we too be willing to throw off our cloaks and pursue Jesus even despite the rebukes of those around us.

The List

Standing in my grandmother’s dining room on Christmas Eve, 1981 was a monumental moment in my life.  We had spent a wonderful evening of magic with Grandma, our cousins, aunts and uncles, Christmas gifts and unending resources of cookies and treats.  Our family of six was packing up our newly acquired loot when Grandmother said, you kids better get right to bed before Santa comes tonight!

I was already excited and I could feel my heart rate increase all the more at her words.  “I will Grandma!” I said, though I doubted that I would be able to calm myself down enough to sleep.

My dad had a sadistic way of spinning angst into a perfectly joyful moment. “I don’t know…Santa might not come to our house…I heard, you might be on the naughty list.”

GREAT SCOTT!  Why would he say that??  Sure I had done some bad things through the year.  Did I lie about how much wood I hauled into the house? Well…Yes.  Did I secretly slide my mashed potatoes under my plate…more than once…to “pretend,” that I had finished my supper?  Again…yes.  Did I smack the dog because he slurped up my ice cream cone when I wasn’t looking last summer?  Yep…that too.  But is that enough to put me on the naughty list?

“I am not sure your room is clean either, is it?  Santa won’t come if your room is not clean.”

Egads!  He was right!  My room was likely NOT clean.  My excitement for the arrival of the mystical Red Suited Stranger suddenly turned to fret, anxiety and uncertainty.  All I could think of now was that this man who knew both when I was sleeping and when I was awake, had committed me to the naughty list.

My grandmother in all of her grace attempted to diffuse my sick minded father, “Oh stop Ross…I am sure Ryan is on the Nice List…he’s a good boy! Aren’t you Ryan?”

“Yeah!” I nervously rebutted.

Evidence suggests, that Santa did come that night.  My room must have been warranted to be clean enough and my niceness must have somehow overcome my misdeeds.  Or…perhaps some forces other than Santa were at work.  I spent many Christmas seasons trying to appease Santa. 

Likewise, I have spent many years of my life trying to appease God. 

Does God want us to obey him? Yes!

Does God want us to “do” certain things in this life? Absolutely!

Does God want us to resist temptation and stay away from acts of evil and idolatry? Certainly!

But what does God “really” want1? You…and a relationship “with” you.

There is ONLY one way into that relationship with God and that is through His Son Jesus. 

Christmas isn’t about appeasing Santa.  Christmas isn’t appeasing God.  Christmas is about God coming because he wants to restore the relationship “with” each of us. 

When the angels appeared to the shepherds and made their incredible announcement in Luke 2 and drawing their attention back to the prophecy of Isaiah 9, God has fulfilled his promise to be WITH US!!!  

Life with God transforms us.  In fact, if God is “with” us…then our transformed lives filled with transformed love should begin to reflect His love.

May your life AFTER Christmas reflect the LIFE he has offered to us BECAUSE of Christmas.

 Blood Stained

My daughter’s van broke this morning…again.  This has happened twice prior…and always on days that hit double digits below zero.  Each time it is the same thing…the power steering line that runs to the power steering cooler explodes and leaves a red hydraulic fluid blood stain in the driveway. 

This did not fill me with joy.

I recently replaced our dishwasher.  I have lost count on the number of dishwashers that I have installed in this home.  Each prior unit was lackluster at best.  In fact, our most recent “dishwasher” actually made the dishes dirtier than when they went into the machine.  How is that even possible?

Dishwashers rarely fill me with joy.

The battery on one of our other vehicles went bad today. 

This also, did not fill me with joy.

Joy is a difficult thing to describe.  Far too often we…I…associate joy with the occurrence of events in my life whether the events happen to be deemed as good…or bad.

I am learning about what God means when he speaks of joy in the scriptures. 

I am finding joy is often best expressed in the realm of relationships.  As a parent I want to be “with” my children.  I want to be with them when they are sad, or when they are excited, or when they are lonely.  I want to be with them when they live out of state. 

When I find times when I can be “with” them, I think I get a foretaste of the joy that God speaks of in the scriptures.  When my son comes home for a brief day and a half of the Minnesota firearm deer season and I get to be “with” him…there is something that stirs in my soul that feels joyful.  When our daughter comes home from Georgia and we get to see her and hug her for the first time in months; that same foretaste of joy flickers as I am “with” her.

Even in times when we ache with our children, the love that permeates our bond expresses a joy in the togetherness despite the shedding of tears.

When we read Luke 2, and find that the angels have promised the shepherds of the arrival of a child that will bring great joy for all the people, I think the fulfillment of that joy is in relationship. I believe that the joy that arrives that night is in the truth that God has come in the form of a man so that the relationship between God and man can be reconciled through the blood stained cross!

We get to be WITH God!

That is a joyous reunion in a joyous restored relationship.

 The General Lee

I don’t like confrontation.  This is true whether I am the confronter or the confronted.  Therefore, it is no small wonder that when my boss, Jerry, called me into his Pizza Hut office, puddles of sweat began to form in the pits of my arms.

I had been brought into the boss’ office on several occasions prior. These meetings usually consisted of Jerry asking rhetorical questions and pointing out areas of “growth” that he is expecting to see in me moving forward. 

“Ryan, you need to shave…you know the policy…clean shaven is like heaven.”

“What about the beard I am trying to grow?”

“Give it up.  Three hairs does not constitute a beard.  Go shave.”

“Yes Sir.”

Other confronted growth areas have included, proper floor washing procedures as well as the wearing  inappropriate work attire…Jerry expressed his concern of my using duct tape as a belt.    

“Mr. Wikre, it is not a belt.  The duct tape is actually keeping the backside of my pants closed.  You see I ripped them wide open on my last delivery run, so you could say that the duct tape is really much more appropriate than say, NOT having the duct tape…if you see what I mean.  Which would you rather have…duct tape? or…the effects of what it would mean if there was no duct tape?  Surely, I am making my point and you see my dilemma?”

“Neither, I expect you to have new pants before your next shift.”

“Yes sir.”

As I stepped into his office on this particular occasion, I was mentally processing what the subject of the visit could entail.  I wondered if he had heard about the tail light incident or the stuck in the ditch incident or perhaps it was the dog incident…I barely made it out of that one with the remainder of my pants in tact.

“Ryan, I would like to talk to you about your job performance.”

“Drat!” I thought, “it’s everything!” 

“What about it sir?” I asked.

“Well, I have noticed how you get in and out of your vehicle through the window. Would you like to explain that to me?”

“Would you believe that I was a childhood fan of the Dukes of Hazard? I often fanaticized about the General Lee!”

“Are you sure it the orange car that you fancied?”

“No comment.”

“In either case this does not explain why you are not using your door.”

“Well sir, if I open the door, the only way to get the door to close again is if I lay on the ground from the outside and kick the door up and in with my feet…and well…I don’t have time for that.”

“Ryan, I don’t approve of the car door, however, I want to tell you something.  The way you work is exceptional.  In fact, I don’t have another driver you can get in and out of his car faster than you do through your window.  I don’t usually do this…as I don’t usually give drivers a raise because of the tips that they can earn…but I am going to give you a raise and say thank you for your diligent work.”

“Thank you sir!”

“You are welcome.  Now…go deliver some pizzas…and get your car fixed.”

I did deliver more pizzas…but I did not get the car fixed. Instead, I purchased another piece of junk.

The point of the story isn’t the car, rather the relational experience that I had with Jerry.

Over the years Jerry and I actually became friends even finding time to fish together and hanging out together. 

Early on in the relationship, I would have described it as respectful but fearful.  Later, I came to see it as respectful and peaceful. My respect for Jerry never diminished, in fact, it increased over the years.  However, my fear diminished and was replaced with peace.  I came to trust him as my boss and see that though he was interested in my growth and change, he wanted to see me flourish.

Peace is one of strongest themes we find at Christmas.  Luke 2:10-14 and Isaiah 9:2-7 both emphasize it vigorously.  The truth of Christmas is that God sent his Son to restore peace in the relationship between God and mankind.  This isn’t a ceasefire or superficial feel good kind of peace…rather it is all about an abundant peace found in the regenerated relationship that we can have with God!

May you come to find the true “Peace of God,” found only in Jesus this Christmas.