Ice Fishing

It’s 88 degrees today. That’s pretty hot for mid-September in Minnesota.  Ironically, with the unpredictability of Minnesota weather…ice fishing could open as early as next week.

I like ice fishing.  I do not, however, enjoy the stress of ice fishing on early ice.  I remember friends in high school asking me to go out ice fishing with them in early December.

“Hey Ryan!? You want to head out to Round Lake on Saturday and go ice fishing?”

“Really!? Seems like the ice wouldn’t be thick enough yet.”

“What are you talking about!? There is like two feet of ice already!”

“Hmmm…I find that hard to believe.”

I have developed a formula that measures the thickness of ice on Minnesota lakes. First, you take the ice thickness (i.e. two feet) as told by 16 year old male high school student, who is currently failing math.  Then, divide it by 4 and subtract 3.  Thus, the result of about 3” is the actual ice thickness.

“No thanks…I’m good.”

I realize that most Minnesotans would not hesitate to venture out fishing on 3” of ice.  However, I am not the typical Minnesota ice fisherman.  If I can’t drive on the ice…I usually don’t walk on it.  Thus, when the ice finally hits 18+” I head out onto the lakes…and usually catch nothing…because by the time the ice is that thick, the ice fishing is as slow as my 94 year old grandmother driving her Cadillac Seville in front of the parade of following cars, whose drivers are honking, waving angry fists the air and not throwing candy.

I guess you could say I am kind of the “Doubting Thomas” of Minnesota ice anglers.  I don’t trust the ice…I don’t trust what people say about the ice.  I like to wait until I see a half dozen, full size 4x4 pickups parked on the ice together in a 20 foot radius…then still, drill a series of holes through the ice before I finally journey out.

Yet, as cautious as I am…I find that after I have drilled a few holes…and have found that I have not fallen through the ice…my confidence begins to build.  I remember being out ice fishing with a friend. He was setting us up precariously close to a creek inlet, where you could see the open water.  Closer and closer we walked…until we were what felt to be, about 10 feet from the open water.  The buildup of anxiety was about to send my kidneys blowing out my nose.  After I watched him drill a hole through at least 6 inches of ice…I began to feel a little bit better, but I still wasn’t about to go any closer.

I am reminded of Jesus’ disciple Thomas.  Thomas gets a bad rap for being a “doubter.”  But, he wasn’t the only doubter of the group.  In fact, we see all of these men locked up in a room…afraid...even after the report of Jesus’ resurrection…and at one point, even after they HAD seen him.  They believe…yet…they need to overcome their unbelief.  I think that the time that they spent with Jesus before his crucifixion, was ALL a part of a faith process for each of them.  Their faith grew each time Jesus healed someone…or turned water into wine…or spoke in jaw dropping, authoritative ways.  I believe that their faith grew when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, saw the empty tomb, and even saw the risen Christ.  Yet, their faith needed to grow some more.

This gives me hope.  There are times when I feel that the Lord has built a great fire of faith in my heart…and there are times when I feel more doubtful than Thomas. I find myself thankful…that through every answered and unanswered prayer…through the times of confidence and doubt…pain and peace…the Lord is increasing my faith...step by step.  Do you have a greater faith now than you did a year ago? What about ten years ago?  I believe that the Lord wants our faith to grow...and to be influenced by every life experience he walks us through.

Perceptual Blindness

A 2007 Dodge Grand Caravan is an unremarkable vehicle…especially when it is silver in color.  If you simply make yourself aware, you could easily find a dozen or more similar vehicles on the road during your morning commute.  In fact, if we look across the street through our living room window, we see a nearly identical van owned by our neighbors.

On a particularly cold, January day, I left my wife and kids in the store to finalize our purchases, while I went out to start the van and pull it up so that they wouldn’t have to endure the bitter winds of winter.  I hustled out of the parking lot, just short of running…because running would be more painful than the cold air. I reached the van and quickly opened the door and slid in. I inserted the key into the ignition and attempted to start the engine.  The key wouldn’t turn.  I shimmied the steering wheel back and forth trying to release the pressure on the wheel lock.  It still wouldn’t go.  “Oh Great!”…I said to myself, “This is the last thing I need!...I have enough things to fix in my life and I don’t need to add the van ignition to that list…not to mention it’s cold!”

As I sat sulking, I smelled something. It was an unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant smell…somewhat like vanilla. “Hmmm…that’s odd!? What would smell like vanilla in here?”  It would have been more likely to expect the smells of wet rotten socks and stale Honey Nut Cheerios.

That is when I looked at the floor… “Hmmm…When did Sarah vacuum the van?” I looked in the rear view mirror…something was missing…someone had stolen our bike rack off of the back!  I felt violated…how could someone steal from someone else…not only the bike rack…but all of our stale Cheerios as well!  I looked to the right and I saw another van…very similar to ours…that one had a bike rack too.  “Why would someone take our bike rack?...Why not theirs?  Their bike rack is the same as the one we had stolen.” “Why us!”

That is when it hit me…the vanilla smell, the lack of Cheerios, the bike rack!...I quickly exited the van…looked both ways to see if I was being watched.  I got into the other van…my van…as quickly as I could…red faced…embarrassed and feeling stupid.  I started the engine and drove up to pick up Sarah and the kids.  At least I didn’t have to fix the ignition on the van.

Sadly…I had done this before!

On the morning that Jesus’ tomb is found empty and his body is missing, we find a number of people who encounter the scene…Peter, John, Mary Magdalene, and several other women.  As they engage in the scene you can see and sense their struggle…their struggle with questions…with grief…and with faith.

Perceptual blindness is defined as, “the event in which an individual fails to perceive an unexpected stimulus that is in plain sight.”  Mary Magdalene is the one who Jesus first appeared to, and when she first encountered Jesus, she did not expect to find a risen Savior. Yet there He is…in plain sight.  What Mary saw as missing, was not missing at all.  I think we often fall into perceptual blindness.  I believe that Jesus is alive…that the evidence is there…that Jesus is who He says He is and that the Holy Spirit wants to change our hearts.  Yet, I think we often stay perceptually blind…blind to seeing that we need heart change…everyone of us…and that Jesus is there to lead us to change.

Predictions

I entered my first year of college in 1994.  It didn’t take long for me to realize, at 18 years old, I had become smarter than my parents…college professors…and financial investors.  I had been hired at a local fueling station and I shared an apartment with my brother.  With having a job…and sharing the rent…I was “loaded.” I may have even reached “hundredaire” status.  I had several bills in my wallet, ranging from ones, all the way up to a single twenty dollar bill.  Yet, during my first fall semester, all of my new found wealth was quickly depleted when I was gifted my first speeding ticket.

Somehow, I needed to come up with a way to recoup the costs.

While working at the gas station, I had observed countless people coming in and cashing out their lottery tickets…some for $1…some for $2 or $5 or $10 or even $20…and sometimes…people cashed in the mega jackpot of $50!  Thus, I came up with the answer that only an “all intelligent 18 year old” could come up with…play the lottery.

To prepare my heart and my odds, I sat behind the wheel of my 1973 Camaro and listened to appropriate mood setting music.  I exited my car and walked into the store with Alice Coopers’ “I’m Eighteen,” and Skid Row’s “Eighteen and Life,” echoing between my ears and I bought a lottery ticket.

Bingo!

Not that I won…rather that was the name of the lottery ticket.  For two dollars you could buy a “Bingo” scratch game.  What a wonderful lottery ticket idea! You could take your time and enjoy a nice game of bingo, while anticipating the cash flow coming in!

I lost.

I bought another one.  If I could get a $5 winner I would still be up $1.  Loser.  I bought another one.  If I could nab a $10 winner at or before 5 tickets were purchased, I’d break even and quit.  Loser…loser…loser.  I kept buying them.  All I need now is a $20 winner before I buy 4 more.  I was the only one there buying tickets…so the odds of getting a winner must be increasing.  There can’t be 10 non winning tickets in a row!?

Yes there can.

Fortunately, I stopped after I lost $20.  I have never purchased a ticket since.

In 2013, Americans lost 119 billion dollars on gambling.  In basic terms…that would be spending 119 billion dollars on false predictions.  False predictions, like picking the wrong Superbowl winner, the wrong horse at the Kentucky Derby, the wrong numbers for the Powerball.  Predictions are a funny thing.  We base a great deal on predictions.  Last weekend my family and I chose not to go camping because the forecast was for a rain all day on Friday…guess what?...it didn’t rain…again…loser.

Overall, predictions rarely come true. In 1977, Ken Olson (no relation), president, chairman and founder of Digital Equipment Corporation, predicted, “There is no reason for any individual to have a computer in his home.” Hmmm.  I think Ken may have missed the mark on this one…let’s just hope he didn’t wager the farm on it.

All of this makes the Gospel even more incredible.  When we look at the Scriptures we find 322 prophecies about Jesus Christ.

What do we find when we then look at the life of Christ? We find 322 FULFILLED prophecies! Incredible!

Even during the crucifixion sequence, Christ alone fulfilled many prophecies…such as, “He was counted with the wicked,” “clothes divided,” “silent before His accusers,” “hands and feet pierced”…and many more!

If I had to make the choice between an educated man making a prediction about computers, weather, science, astrology, etc…or a man…who did everything that He said He was going to do…and did everything that God said He was going to do…I think I am going to choose the second man.

What about you?

Mud

Our dog peed on the carpet again today.  That is something that upsets me.  It makes my toenails curl, my eyes bulge and teeth gnash.  My reaction to the Minnesota Vikings losing to the Green Bay Packers would be much the same.  Though things have gone well, since we rescued him nearly two years ago, I can’t help but lack trust in him.  That is why we continue to keep him kenneled overnight.  Despite the fact that I probably give him more affection than anyone else in the house, I am convinced that he doesn’t like me…or at the very least…I am not his favorite.

Each morning, I am the first one awake.  I look at him in his kennel when I first get up and he will not make eye contact with me…I am convinced that he is pretending that he is still sleeping.  I will sit in the chair next to the kennel, drink my coffee, read a book and then as soon as he hears another set of feet hitting the floor, he springs up and scratches at the door excited that he can finally come out.

I have experimented with these patterns over the past year and a half or so.  One night as I was heading off to bed, I opened the kennel door…let him in…but didn’t close the door.  The next morning…he is still in his kennel…door open…pretending to sleep.  I sit down in the chair next to the kennel…and he continues to lie there. Then, someone else gets up and he bolts through the open door into the freedom of the day.

One morning I sat in my chair and reached down and unlatched the door while he pretended to sleep.  I swung the door open…and still he just lay there…refusing to come out.  Once again…as soon as the next person arises…he runs out of the kennel appreciating the open space.

There was one night, in fact, in which we forgot to place him in his kennel at all.  When I got up that morning…there he was…laying down in his kennel with the door wide open.

I am reminded of two passages of scripture.  The first is what Paul says in Romans 6, where he describes that we are slaves to our masters…and sin is our master until Jesus breaks the chain that bonds us to sin.  Yet, even after that chain has been broken we find ourselves going back to our old master…our old ways…our old sins…much like what Peter says in his 2^nd Epistle chapter 2, verse 22, “A sow that is washed returns to wallow in the mud.”

Jesus has set us free…yet we often choose to stay where there is no freedom.  There is nothing left to keep us chained to the sin…nothing left to keep us under the “old master,” yet, there we stay…like a dog pretending to sleep in an opened kennel.

When Jesus sets us free, we are free indeed.  That is why we choose to be baptized.  To express the work that has already been done.  To express how Jesus led us to die to our old sinful selves…our old ways…and gives us new life…a free life.

Finished

When I was in ninth grade, I joined the high school track and field team.  I didn’t really care for running…I certainly didn’t like practicing or training…I didn’t like shin splints, sprained ankles, or muscle strains…and I didn’t like the 400m dash.  Unfortunately for me, the 400 meter dash was my best running event.  I was not a world class runner, nor was I an All-American runner…I wasn’t even an All-State runner…I may have been an All-Conference runner…once.  The 400m was the longest event that I have ever competed in, and it would be safe to say that I prefer dental procedures to the 400m dash.

The 400m dash is one of the few physical punishments that schools, teachers, and coaches are allowed to legally inflict upon a student athlete.  If given the choice of running the 400m dash or petting a bumble bee…I’d pet the bee.  Should I choose between this grueling race or giving a black bear a back scratch?…That bear would be purring beneath my fingers.  Run a 400m dash or kiss my sister?...Hmm…that’s a tough one.

Imagine having your shoes filled with tacks, your shorts three sizes too small, and you run as fast as you can…until you just cannot run anymore…and then someone duct tapes your mouth and nose and says only 100m left to go!  Then at the end of the race, you vomit…except that you still have duct tape on your mouth and nose and so the bile comes out of your ears and eyes.

Congratulations! You have just run the 400m dash!  Your coach responds, “Next time, I think you could shave a few seconds off!”

Next time!

I don’t ever want to do that again!

In truth, there are few experiences in life, where I have desired to cross the “finish line” more than in running that ridiculous race.  Honestly, it feels so good…kind of…to cross that finish line and have that race finished.  However, the coach was right…I had to do it again…and again…and again.

In John 19, we read about Jesus being hung on the cross.  After 6 agonizing hours, Jesus made a powerful statement…he said, “It is finished.” At that moment he gave up his life.  It is finished. Jesus accomplished a great work on that cross and then when it is all done he said, “It is finished.” He didn’t say, “It’s mostly done.” He didn’t say, “I am done for now…this time…next time I will do this or that differently.”

His work is done…he has no touch up paint to do…he does not need to fill any nail holes…all the pieces of trim are set where they need to be…it is all done…nothing is left incomplete.  He has fulfilled Scripture.  He has taken our place on the cross.  He has conquered death.  He has conquered sin. He has taken the sin away. He has emptied the cross of its shame. He has drawn all people unto himself. He has begun a new community…and on and on.  Complete…it is all done!

The table is set, the turkey has been cooked, the stuffing made, Jell-O sits in a bowl with Cool Whip on top, cranberry sauce, potatoes and gravy…it’s all ready.  It is finished.  Now all you have to do…is…sit down and eat.  What a blessing to enjoy and accept the work that Jesus has finished.

Community

After 38 hours of traveling and eating pizza in airports, my oldest daughter returned home from the Dominican Republic this morning.  She had been gone for a week, working in the community of Cachon.  Three years ago my wife and I had also been to Cachon, where we worked with the same church and the same community.  As my daughter showed our family all of her pictures from the trip, my wife and I were flooded with fond memories of when we had last been with these amazing people in the Dominican.  We saw many of the same people, that we can come to know and love, now standing alongside our daughter in these pictures.

There was a phrase that my daughter used upon returning home that resonated with both my wife and I.  She said, “Cachon is such an amazing community of people…who love people.”

She is absolutely right.  My daughter discovered the same amazing experience that my wife and I had also had.  As you stepped into this community…you suddenly found yourself welcomed INTO a new community.  It indeed was something very special. This is such a wonderful picture of the Church that Christ has established.

In John 19:25-27, Jesus is hanging on the cross.  He is in intense pain and he is suffering greatly.  Yet, his heart for the people at the foot of the cross is expressed.  Jesus sees his mother…and he sees his friend John…and he looks at them both and says “behold your mother…and behold your son.”  I find that at this moment Jesus is setting up something amazing.  Jesus is setting some of the groundwork for the Church!  He is laying the foundation for a New Community of believers…that love each other…that care for each other…that care for one another’s burdens…like never before!

It is incredible!

It is new!

It is Community!

It is the Church!

Silverado

I cannot begin to count the number of miles, nor the number of hours, that I have spent in the bed of a 1978 Chevy Silverado.  For years, this regular cab pickup truck, was the primary means of transportation for my family.  During the early years, all six of us could successfully pack ourselves into the cab…if we followed the strict order of time and space.  Aside from my father, who was the perpetual driver, we all had to load in the proper order from the passenger side of the vehicle.

Once my dad was placed behind the wheel, we could begin.  My little brother would enter first…shifting his backside forward, his feet down and to the left and his knees low and to the right. I would enter next…with my hips tight to the back, my left foot forward and just to the right of the accelerator and my right foot folded up behind my head.  My older brother next, would keep his feet right, knees down and to the right, hips also back and then he would kiss the dash.  Mom would hop in and pull our baby sister onto her lap.  Everyone would exhale simultaneously to compact our chests and slam the doors.  There was no need for seatbelts, nor, was there air conditioning.  The passengers nearest the driver had to always pay attention to be able to shift their knees left…right…split…to avoid the black shifter knob cratering their kneecaps…or worse.

It’s hard to believe, but the four of us children would sometimes complain about these arrangements.  Which dad would reply…“Then you can ride in the back”…so we did…at least the three of us boys did.

There was an advantage to riding in the bed of the truck…my parents could not see the abuse I caused to my brothers.  There were times in my childhood where I may have been thought of as an instigator of fights…I would “at times” mock and tease my siblings.  Perhaps it was trying to compensate for the mocking we would receive from our friends when arriving to church and climbing out of the topper covered pickup bed.

When riding in the back of a pickup truck…there are really only two seats…one on each wheel well.  The first two people into the truck bed would get the “seat.”  I was always one of the first two…because even if I arrived third I would rip my younger brother from the tailgate and throw him down to the ground, or simply shove him off the wheel well he was already sitting on and take his place.  He didn’t care much for that…and so he would scream and retaliate.  I would then…do it again.  I didn’t care.  I was concerned with one person…and that was me.  My heart was rock solid toward him.  I pretty much felt no concern for him…and when he cried…I smiled.

I am pleased to say that the Lord has softened my heart since those days.  Yet, I am reminded of my own depravity when I look at the hardened hearts of the Jewish leaders as they cry out to have Jesus crucified!  Then I am jaw droppingly humbled when I see who I am…and what Jesus does.  I am like Barabas…guilty.  Yet, Jesus takes my place…just as he took Barabas’ place.

Then suddenly, I find myself free!

Free from the condemnation of my sin! Being offered something that I have never deserved!