Motivation

 

There are some moments where I struggle to find motivation…and there are other moments where motivation seems to run in my veins.  In fact, even within the span of a few hours the dynamics of motivation can change.  This is not a new phenomenon.  Even as a child the degrees of my motivation would ebb and flow like the tides.

“Ryan! Clean up your toys in the living room!” My mother snipped.

“But I’m still going to play with them!” I retorted. 

“They have been laying there for three days!”

“That’s ‘cuz GI Joe is currently a prisoner of war in Siberia and he hasn’t found a way to escape yet!”

“I am pretty sure if he doesn’t find a way out of his cell now, he is going to find himself drawn upward into the nether regions of Hoover’s Wind Tunnel!”

“I’ll do it in a little bit, I’m picking up the chocolate chips I spilled all over the kitchen floor.”

WWWHHHIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRR!!!!

“No! Mom wait! I’ll pick it up!”

Fear is certainly a powerful motivator.  We are motivated out of fear of discipline, fear of loss of acceptance, fear of retaliation, fear of letting others down, fear of getting fired, fear of failure and many other facets.  As strongly as fear can motivate us, I have become convinced that love is an even more powerful motivator.  

Now when my mom calls me up to come over and lift something heavy or shingle a roof, I don’t say “yes” out of fear of her vacuuming up GI Joe, I say “sure…I’ll send your grandson Isaac right over.”

I was struck this week when I was reading Matthew 24:14, and Matthew 28:18-20. Here we find what is known as the “Great Commission.”  It is the moment that Jesus gives the instructions to the church as to what our overriding role is to be.  We can certainly receive this as a command, since Jesus himself is laying the burden to believers to fulfill this obligation. 

As I contemplate, I consider the question, “what makes me choose to obey this instruction”?  Is it solely that I am looking for Jesus’ approval? Certainly, I want Jesus’ approval, but honestly, that is not what connects with the deepest part of my soul.  Is it fear of consequences from God? If I am honest, there is part of me that wrestles with that.  My conclusion is that the great compelling for the commission comes from the deep love that God has for us and effectively our love for Him as found in 1 John 4:10, “This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” When I begin to see all that Jesus has done for me, I want to do all that he asks me to do for Him.

May we come to be compelled to share the abundant love of God to others because of his abundant love for us!

 Birth Pains

I am the father of four wonderful children; therefore I know firsthand what kind of pain is entailed with labor.  Despite what you are thinking in relation to my gender, I can assure you that labor pains feel exactly like someone is ripping the flesh of your arms off with long pointy fingernails while screaming violently into your ear.   Sounds awful, am I right?  I can assure you…it is!

My poor wife has had the paradoxical blessing of long labors, some lasting as long as 31 hours.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to sleep when your wife is in pain with contractions? Just when you start to nod off, a contraction would hit and either the verbal agonizing of my wife or her claws into my arm would wake me right up. 

I remember when we went into the hospital to birth our first child.  We arrived at 11:00 a.m. for the scheduled induction.  My wife was harnessed onto the gurney and given an IV for the Pitocin to begin to force the labor.  Our birthing classes demonstrated how surreal of an experience childbirth can be.  We expected to be able to go for calming walks, sit in rocking chairs or bounce on an exercise ball.  None of this was an option as my wife had an IV tower strapped to her arm and an armed nurse standing guard with a clipboard and a sedative. 

The initial excitement felt at 11:00 a.m., began to wane after about the 6^th hour, and more so, after the 7^th…the 8^th…the 9^th…the 10^th…the 22^nd…and the 28^th.  The laboring and contractions just kept coming with seemingly no effect.  Finally after well more than 24 hours of contractions, back massages and vending machine hamburgers, the doctor finally told us that she thought it was time to start pushing that baby out.  Sarah pushed for an hour and then finally…nothing.  She pushed for two hours…nothing.  After Sarah had pushed for 3 yours, the culmination of hope arrived.  Our daughter Hannah was born and all of my pain was worth it…the wounds on my arms eventually healed but my hearing has never been the same since.

We would go on to deliver 3 more children.  Since that first experience we learned what to expect thereafter, and each time we were not disappointed.  Long painful deliveries followed by the culmination of hope resting in our arms. 

Jesus speaks of birth pains in Matthew 24:1-14.  In this context however, he is not referring to the arrival of a new baby, but rather the arrival of the end of the age and the coming of the King.  Here Jesus reveals a challenging list of hardships, but encourages his followers to understand and remember that these are just the beginning.  A baby cannot arrive without the painful contractions that precede it. Likewise, many things must precede the second coming of Jesus and the return of the King.

May we come to understand that the sufferings we see today are just the birth pains that precede the great reward of the return of our King!

 Hens

Mothers are really quite extraordinary. Most mothers seem to have a combination of super powers akin to those evidenced by members of both, the Justice League and the Marvel Universe.  For example, my own mother seemed to have the incredible ability to draw the truth out of her children much like the works of Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth.

“Ryan! Did you eat all of your supper?”

“I sure did! Why would you ask that? Those potatoes hidden under my plate must have just fallen there by themselves.  I didn’t put them there…OK! You got me! I did put them there! I pushed them off my plate and then mashed my plate on top to hide them, so that you would think that I ate all of my supper!...Can I still have a cookie?”

“No.”

The difference was that my mother’s Lasso of Truth was also invisible.

Additionally, my mother also seemed to have the powers of super speed, super strength, super flexibility, super reflexes and super hearing.

“Hmm. What do you suppose Ryan is doing?”

“I don’t know, why do you ask?” Dad responds.

“I think I hear something.”

“What do you hear? I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly! Ryan! Get down from that stool in the kitchen and don’t steel any cookies! I put the cookie jar on the refrigerator for a reason!”

“How did you know that I was trying to sneak a cookie?”

“I could hear you thinking!”

Mothers have exceptional hearts, which seem to feel and love and empathize on a deeper level than most.  When a child is hurt, that child longs to be comforted in the arms of the only ones who can seemingly make the hurt go away with a word or a kiss…a mother.  Mothers care and they protect and they sooth the souls of the ones whose paths they cross. 

There is an incredible contrast found in Matthew 23:13-39.  Here Jesus refutes the actions of the religious leaders.  Seven times he offers up woes to their behaviors and actions and attitudes.  Jesus points to them as examples that should NOT be followed.  After these seven accusations, Jesus turns the table and reveals his own deep, loving and even motherly care for people.  He speaks of his longing to gather the people as a hen would gather her chicks.

May we come to care and to love and to lead as Jesus does…and perhaps as our mothers have as well.

 Impressed

The truth of life is that there is always going to be someone better than you.  Earlier this week I watched the 149lb NCAA wrestling champion from Stanford, Aden Valencia, lose to a 19 year who has not yet graduated from high school.  I am impressed.

Additionally, I recently watched Gout Gout, (that is not a typo) an 18 year old Australian sprinter beat Usian Bolt’s U18 record time in the 100m dash. Just when you think there could never be anyone faster…maybe there is! I am impressed.

When I was in elementary school, I too would show off my incredible talents and abilities.  I would race other kids at recess.  Though I would win many of the races, I would often find myself losing to a kid named Kris.  The kid was fast…in fact, “she” was faster than most of the 3^rd grade.  I was impressed…perhaps more with her cute nose than her penultimate speed.

I flexed my value in other ways as well, in attempt to impress the 3^rd grade girls.  I would use my excessive flexibility to wrap my arms around my head so that the entireties of my arms were behind my back and not at all visible from the front.  I would then run around the playground crying out like an armless fool until my “unfriend” Mike would stick out his foot and trip me.  This proved particularly detrimental as I, having no hands in front of me to catch my decent, would smack down face first into the pea gravel.  Strangely, my goal of making the girls laugh was accomplished...sadly for the wrong reason.  I do not think that they were impressed.

I remember my young children crying out for my attention. “Dad look!” cried my 6 year old daughter who had just colored a beautiful picture of Cinderella. I was impressed. “Dad look at mine too!,” squealed my 3 year old daughter who displayed a nearly as lovely interpretation of Sleeping Beauty. I was impressed. “Dabba dook,” my 1 and a half year old daughter warbled as she showed me her accomplished massacre of streaking color across the face of a not so charming looking prince. I was impressed that she could make Prince Charming look so undesirable. “Dad look at me!” said my gleeful 4 and a half year old son as he sent sharp fishing hooks, flying from his superman rod, (inside the house), right into the soft new comforter in his bed where the hooks bit deeply into the fabric.  I was not impressed.  I realized that the kids certainly had a way of grabbing my attention as I was cutting the treble hook from my son’s bedding.

It is the pattern of life.  In some ways we are all seeking to grab the attention of others, attempting to impress those around us.  I know it is normal …but I think that there is also something that is better. What would it look like to be able to grab people’s attention and direct it toward God…that they would be impressed with God?

I think that is the message of Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 23:1-12.  Here we find both cautionary and encouraging words as to how we ought to live for Christ. 

May the world be impressed with Jesus through our transformed lives.

Put Some Pants On!

Life is complicated; the endless array of choices and opportunities for decisions is relentless.  Why just the other day I had to decide whether to eat a ham or tuna sandwich for lunch, oatmeal or eggs for breakfast and ice cream or a cookie for supper.  In my earlier years of life I would have said yes to all of it, but now after more than half a century of life, my metabolism as well as my gastric system are not what they used to be. 

It is not just about food; the complications in life carry over into all aspects of living.  For example, getting dressed is also complicated.  Not only must I choose whether to sit down to put on my socks or take the risk of standing and hopping on one foot hoping that today is not my last day of living should I fall and hit my head on the coffee table, but I must also choose what clothes to wear. 

This may not seem like such a big deal, but it is when your wife is demanding that your young children wear pants, boots, coats, hats and mittens to go out into the frozen tundra of a Minnesota winter and you walk out wearing shorts and a long sleeve t shirt. 

“How can I ask the kids to wear warm clothes outside when you don’t?”

“I will tell them.”

“What are you going to say?”

“Simple…two things. One, Listen to your mother! And two, do as I say don’t do as I do!”

Sadly, this hasn’t been the only time when my words and actions haven’t lined up.  In fact, my complicated life has revealed over and over again my areas of shortcomings. 

I have come to believe that my children and people broadly, learn more from observation than instruction.  In other words, when my children see what I do, they are much more likely to do likewise, rather than if I just instruct them to do so. 

If I had valued wearing pants in the winter…who knows…perhaps my children would have valued it as well. When I come to them and admit of my shortcomings and ask for their forgiveness, I hope that they too will value truth and authenticity. 

Jesus speaks of this in Matthew 23:1-12.  Here, Jesus reveals how the religious leaders spoke many good and true things to the people, yet they did not practice what they preached. 

May we come to hear what Jesus says…and put it into practice, so that people will be drawn to Him and His truth.

 A Parable of Sorts

There once was a bride who, along with her dear mother, spent 11 months planning her wedding.  There were countless details to work through and decisions to make. The two of them would often argue over a number of the particulars. 

“Mom, I really think that we should use 1 Corinthians 13 for the scripture reading.”

“Oh, but honey, that passage is so over used…let’s find something more obscure”

Or

“Honey, I think that you should wear your veil down as you walk down the aisle.”

“Mom, I don’t want the veil down…no one does that any more. In fact, I am thinking of a blue dress instead of white!”

“Have you lost your mind!? You have to have a white dress! There is no other option!”

Or

“Mom, I think we need to have a vegan offering for the reception and a gluten free cake option.”

“People can just choose to eat the cake or not eat the cake.  The same goes for the meat. Let them eat the potatoes and carrots and skip the chicken if they don’t want it.”

Finally, after many months of planning, and ALL of the details set, the day for the ceremony arrived.  Everyone looked stunning, from the bride and her bridesmaids to the groomsmen, parents and even the officiant. The Church was decorated perfectly and the photographer was capturing it all!

The awkward moment in the ceremony came when the officiant asked the bride… “Where is your groom?”

To which the bride replied… “Groom? I don’t have a groom! I have all of the other details set, isn’t that good enough?”

This story is absurd, yet it somewhat fits within our context of spirituality when we place things in our lives, church or traditions in a place that is over the most important thing…Jesus. In fact, this serves as a parable of sorts of a moment that is found in Matthew 22:34-46.  Here we find the religious leaders approaching Jesus with a question of detail, “Which is the greatest/most important commandment?” Jesus’ reply not only answers their question, but it also places within it a greater context.  In Jesus’ answer the emphasis becomes on “who” is most important as opposed to “what” command is most important. 

May we come to see who the Christ is…and recognize Him and His love as the greatest…and follow Him!

Hidden

Most all of us have grown up with some childhood traditions that have carried into our adult lives.  These traditions could include; family dinners, baking Christmas cookies, breakfast in bed for birthdays or hiding Easter baskets from your children so hard that they have to search between 1-24 hours to find their candy.  The afore mentioned tradition was of paramount importance to my father.  Each year, he would sadistically hide 4 Easter baskets as hard as humanly possible only to watch his frustrated children grow in their aggravation in the absence of their candy.  My older brother was often found to be the most irritated with the tradition as he was the penultimate final searcher, failing to find his candy before anyone else.  His exasperation would only compound as each of his siblings, myself included, would find our baskets first and begin stuffing our faces with candy while he would slump at the table and pout for not having found his.

I remember one year, when both my brother and I had come home from college only to find that Dad has once again hidden our Easter baskets.  Low and behold, my older brother found himself left as the only candy-less victim sitting at the table harrumphing.  I kind of figured he should have grown out of this behavior by now…I may or may not be referring to my father…or brother…or both!

 I must humbly admit that I never knew the joy of hiding things from my children until I had children of my own!  Over the past 22 years I too have carried the torch of bringing suffering to my own candy-less children.  However, after years of hiding baskets in the fish house, the shed, suspended beneath the dining room table, frozen solid in the deep freezer and any other creative place I could find, there came a day when I ran out of places to hide the baskets.  Therefore, one Easter morning a couple of years ago my children woke to find their Easter baskets displayed in plain sight.

“Whooah! Dad’s getting lazy!” My son arrogantly proclaimed.

“What gives Dad?” asked my youngest.

“Good! I hate looking for the baskets,” insisted my oldest.

“Why are the baskets empty?” asked my 3^rd born.

“Oh! Well, I ran out of places to hide your baskets,” I confessed, “So I hid the contents. Have fun!”

My children DID NOT have fun…but I sure did!  That may have been my favorite Easter egg hunt of my nearly 50 year old life, as i watched them dig in the coffee grounds, sugar, flour, cornstarch and many other semi-concealed containers.  You would think I would have grown out of it by now.

Isn’t it nice to know that God is not like that? God is not hiding the truth in the weeds or in the fish house or in the dishwasher trying to keep us from finding the way to salvation.  He lays it clearly in front of us in the person of Jesus…His Son!  He reveals it to us in the Gospels.  Jesus is the Way! He is the ONLY Way! Jesus conquered sin and death and has made a way! We know this is true because the tomb is empty! We know this to be true because Jesus is not dead…He is ALIVE! Thank God that he is not hiding…he wants to be found…by us!

May we seek and find the risen Savior today!

 Peach Pies

I remember when I was in high school…yep…more than 30 years ago now…our youth group was raising money for the 1992 LIFE conference to be held in Colorado.  There are always some “go to” fundraisers…you know what I mean…the car washes, the silent auction and of course…the bake sale.  This was a pivotal moment in my life as this was my first exposure to a bake sale.  It is a fascinating concept.  People bake all kinds of wonderful things like muffins, pies, breads, brownies and cookies, and then sell them at prices that are 3 times or more the cost that you could buy the same item at the local bakery.

I remember sitting the table filled with confections when Mr. Hinkle, a church member, walked in carrying three peach pies.  “Here are some peach pies for the sale!” He stated gleefully.

“Thank you Mr. Hinkle!”  I said appreciatively.

“You are most welcome…now…how much for the peach pies?”

“Which peach pies?”

“These right here.”

“These are the ones that you just brought in Mr. Hinkle…what do you mean how much?”

“I want to buy these peach pies.

“The ones that you just brought in?”

“That’s right.”

“Then why did you bring them in?”

“I told you…it was a donation.”

“Then why are you buying them?”

“Because I love peach pie…and even more so, I love Mrs. Hinkle’s peach pies.”

“Then why didn’t you just keep them?

“Because they are worth buying.”

I ended up selling Mr. Hinkle his own peach pies.  Years later I look back and see the redeeming work of Jesus in that imagery.  Jesus, who created us, gave himself up for us…he purchased us back to him.  He is alive and he makes us alive in him and he will resurrect us to be with Him forever…because He loves us more than Mr. Hinkle loves peach pie!

Jesus speaks of this resurrection in Matthew 22:23-33.  May we come to see the life that can be found in Jesus…a life that is both abundant and eternal!

 Render

 

Once upon a time…I was in my forties.  My life seems a little like a fairytale, not necessarily in the way where Prince Charming gets to kiss Sleeping Beauty…but more like how Princess Tiana kisses a frog…only to find out that instead of turning into a Prince…I turned into a 50 year old toad. 

One of the main constants in life is that there is no going back, it only goes forward.  As I celebrated…no…grieved my fiftieth birthday this past week I couldn’t help but look back…how can you not really? I mean, when you live for a half of a century or more, the notable changes that occur in the world during your lifetime are quite significant. However, I was surprised that I am NOT older than computers, email, cell phones and digital cameras as they were all technically invented before 1976. 

There are so many things in my past 50 years that I wish I could go back like Marty McFly and change.  If I could go back I would hug my children more and be angry with them less often.  I would eat more bacon and slammed my head into solid inanimate objects less frequently. 

I find myself wishing that I could hold on to my 40’s or even better yet, my 30’s…since we are going that far…let’s just hold onto the 20’s.  I doubt that I am the only 50 year old who wakes up each morning with sore elbows…and knees…and hips…and neck…and back. This was not the case in my 20’s or 30’s…but maybe a bit in my 40’s. 

God never intended for us to hold onto our 20’s.  I was struck with a realization this week, Jeremiah 29:11 says that God has promised us a hope and future…not a past.  Yet, I find myself holding onto my past and even my present for fear of being ready for the future. 

In loose connection I find what Jesus tells the religious leaders in Matthew 22:15-22, applicable.  In this passage we find some these people trying to catch Jesus in a paradoxical trap.  Jesus is challenged as to whether it is lawful to pay taxes to the Roman Government.  Jesus responds by saying, “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.”

Psalm 24, states that the “Earth is the Lord’s and everything in it.” My life is the Lord’s, whether I am in my 20’s, 30’s, 40’s or 50’s. I am His and he is mine.  Therefore I will render my life to him as best as I can…as the Spirit helps me to do. I will do my best to leave my 20 year old self in my past…but…still hoping that my resurrected body might be about 26…

My we come to see that all that we are and all that we have is the Lord’s.

 The Invitation

As a child, I remember having exactly 2 birthday parties.  My parents would probably try and argue that they provided more than 2 parties for me, but “parties” that only include siblings and cousins don’t count. In order for a party to be a party, at least one friend must be present.  Could there have been more than two? Possible, but I only remember two, both of which were shared with my older brother.  No, we are not twins, nor do we share the same birth date.  To be honest my older brother probably had it worse since his birthday was two days after Christmas and a party on a day so close to Christmas was never going to happen for us…or any of his friends.  Thus, a double party on two occasions was scheduled for early spring.  One of the occasions included a mass conversion at Wadena Lanes, the local smoke-filled bowling alley.  God bless my parents and anyone else who has the energy to manage 10+ children in a public establishment, while trying to keep kids from climbing on the chairs, playing with the public bowling balls and attempting to smoke Krazy Karl’s cigars when he wasn’t looking. 

The other party that I recall was a few years prior when all of my friends played outside with my brother and all of his friends, while I lay alone sick on the living room sofa. That was a sad day, especially when you consider that my kindergarten girlfriend had even shown up for the festivities.  She gave me a semi-truck and trailer.  I wish I still had it...then at least I would have something to bitterly remember that day better.

We have hosted several parties for our own children and now I know why my own parents avoided the birthday party scene.  Additionally, my children have gone to many birthday parties for their friends over the years. Party invitations were usually brought home with our children from school or in rare cases delivered through the U.S. Mail. One of the hidden blessings of these invitations, is that they helped build familiarity with Morrison County as I would find myself driving anywhere and everywhere trying to find the right house to drop the child off.  Usually by the time I found my way home, I would have to turn around and drive back to pick them up from the party.  It was a fair trade off really.  My wife would take them shopping for the birthday gift and I would drop them off and pick them up. 

I remember one beautiful spring Saturday afternoon when our youngest daughter had a birthday party to attend for one of her 2nd grade classmates.  One of the best factors was that this young girl only lived a couple of blocks away. 

“Sarah, What time does the party start today?”

“1:00”

“A.M. or P.M.?”

“…seriously????...”  Sarah’s eyes could audibly be heard rolling at this moment.

I waited until 12:58, figuring that it would take at most 5 minutes.  This would guarantee that we wouldn’t be early and would arrive at about the perfect timing.  We hopped in to the rusty pickup and we cruised the few blocks to her friend’s house.  Upon arriving, I made Erica carry the gift and we walked to the front door together.  I rang the doorbell and the girl’s father came to the door. 

“Is this the place for the party?” I asked.

“It sure is.” He said flatly…a little too flatly if you ask me.

He looked at me with a less than jovial face and said, “But the party is tomorrow…not today.”

That was awkward.

When we arrived home, my confused wife asked, “What’s the deal? Why is Erica here?”

“The party is tomorrow…not today,” I matter of factly replied, voice dripping with exasperation. 

This would have been an appropriate time for my wife to apologize for sending me to the right house but on the wrong day. But instead…she laughed.

I guess I should have taken better note of the invitation itself.

In Matthew 22:1-14, Jesus shares a parable about an invitation.  In this case, the King is having a great party for his son who is getting married. Yet, the people who received the invitation all reject it.  Not only do they not come, they scoff at it.  The cultural insult is astounding.  What we then find in this parable, is that Jesus opens this invitation to all, if we will just say yes to him.  Perhaps one of the best things about this invitation is that I can accept it today.  The day is today…I don’t need to come back tomorrow!

May we come to say yes to the invitation to put our trust in Jesus!

 OK Daddy

When my current 18 year old daughter was about 14 years younger we knew her as the “Politely Disobedient Child.”  She was known for her sweetness, infectious smile, contagious laughter, twin pigtails, two fingers always stuck in her mouth…and for her agreeable disobedient demeanor.

There was a day when this treasured 4 year old spent the day with her grandmother and grandfather. We strongly instilled in her the importance of listening and obeying her grandma and grandpa so that she would be able to enjoy another such trip sometime in the future. “Ok Daddy!” she pleasantly affirmed, “I will.” As with most mischievous children, you can’t help but have a special affection for the combined innocence and defiance.  Nearing the end of her special day with Grandma and Grandpa, she was sitting at the table when my dad walked in and asked her, “Were you good for Grandma today?”

“Yes Grandpa,” she replied.

“If I asked Grandma, would she say that you good for Grandma?”

After several seconds of pause she replied… “Well…maybe I was a little bad…”

This experience melded well with my own encounters with the delightful disobeyer.    

“Carissa, when you are done with your breakfast, you need to put your plate in the sink ok?”

“Ok Daddy.”

When I would see that her plate still sat at her spot and not in the sink an hour later, I was forced to ask, “Carissa…why didn’t you put your plate in the sink?”

“I forgot.”

This was expected pattern. 

“Carissa, get your coat on…pick up your toys…go find your shoes…come to the table…”

“Ok, Daddy, Ok, Daddy, Ok, Daddy, Ok Daddy.”

Each request ended WITHOUT the coat on, the toys picked up, the shoes found or Carissa being at the table.

“I forgot, I forgot, I forgot, I forgot.”

Honestly…I don’t think she forgot…I think she just chose not to do those things at the time that she said that she would do them.

Jesus shares a similar parable in Matthew 21:28-32, where a father asks his two sons to head into the vineyard to work.  The first son says “No,” but then changes his mind and goes and works, while the other says “Ok Daddy,” but then doesn’t go.

Only one of these two sons is actually doing what the father asked him to do, the other, is not.

May we learn to change our minds away from our ways and towards the ways of the father…and do what it is that he wants us to do.

 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.