carbonated joy

We have sanitized the stable.
We have made Christmas family friendly.
We have removed the sharp edges and turned the nativity into a cute, fuzzy, gingerbread scene.
We’ve lost the plot.
We’ve robbed the Christmas story of it’s shock value.
We’ve watered it down.
It’s the most shocking story ever!
It’s inconceivable that the Creator would choose to be conceived!
And look at who He chose to partner with Him…
Two dirt poor refugees looking for shelter in the night.
Rumors have followed them from their hometown.
She is with child and that has created more scandal than any red coffee cup.
They are looking for a safe place to welcome the King of Glory into His world.
There is none to be found.
Instead they share a space with livestock.
It is hardly sanitary or safe.
BUT, it becomes sacred.
The unmistakable odors of sweat, manure, blood and afterbirth…all combine to form the fragrance of glory.
The King has come, and He is helpless.
Creator is dependent on creation.
Hope in diapers.
The first to receive the birth announcement were shepherds.
They were outcasts, rejected, unwelcome, traveling circus freaks.
They were the outsiders who have suddenly, shockingly been invited inside.
They drop everything and breathlessly worship the baby, because that’s what you do when you are suddenly invited inside.
The Christmas story was never meant to be family friendly. It is meant to be family forming.
God took the most drastic measures ever to bring us from death to life, from forgotten to family, from refugees to adoptees.
The brightest of lights has shined in the darkest of nights.
It comforts, it brings peace and good will.
BUT, first, it’s meant to shock the hell out of us.

Gonzo the red faced shepherd had a good heart,
Even though he usually smelled like a goat fart.
He and the other shepherds always got left out,
They were misfits and rejects, there’s no doubt.
All of the other humans used to laugh and call them names,
They never let the shepherds join in any religious games.

Then, they were hanging in a foggy field late at night,
When, SUDDENLY, there was an angel dressed in light.
He cleared his throat and said “don’t fear!
Here’s really BIG news, your savior is here!”
Then an army of angels came in on the fly,
And had an epic dance party in the sky.

The shepherds ran into the town and found Mary and Joe,
There was the baby, smelling like a diaper, but still all aglow.
Gonzo worshipped, which seemed like the right thing to do,
When you find out that God is making everything new.

The ones who normally didn’t get invited to ANYthing,
Were the very first to see the newborn King.
They ran to shout the news with crazy glee,
Tonight, God has forever changed history.

It was my Eighth grade year, I was caught in the land of in-between. No longer a kid, not quite an adult. I chose to become a monster.
My consequences colored me. My choice of companion dragged me to a place that I never expected to go. A dark place where I sacrificed childlike wonder for pushy promises of popularity. A place that thrives on pleasing the wrong voices. A place void of respect for self or others.
I became a monster.
Just like Frankenstein’s monster waking up from a slumber to realize he was in a strange new world where everything had changed, I woke to find everything about me was different.
I became a monster, unrecognizable to myself.
I hurt the friends that I had grown up with, the ones who knew the real me. Like a black hole feeding on negative attention,  I sucked the light from those around me. In a vain effort to sit at the right table and to get that one person to notice me.
I became a monster.
Sometimes, I was more like Jekyll and Hyde, I lived a calculated double life.
I was able to fool my parents most of the time. I said the right things to convince them that I was still their sweet little baby. I was good at being good when needed. But the monster was there.
I was sick inside.
My new friends were monsters too. When we got together it was a monsters ball. As we moved around the dance floor we stomped on those who had managed to hold onto their true selves.
I wonder…
After giving away so many parts of my self, is it even possible to be me again?
I wonder…
Who am I?
I wonder…
Some people never come back from the abyss of identity, they lose themselves to the monster.
They end up 40 year old bullies and cynics.
They silence the voices that speak wonder and acceptance.
I knew that if I carried the monster to high school, he would be harder to shake.
I had to wake up to who I really was.
I remembered what it meant to be me.
Imperfect, messy, real, able to be and believe, able to allow others to belong.
I had to shake the monster.
It meant making choices.
It meant making some new friends.
It meant remembering…
Me must conquer monster.
And it can.
It meant making some new friends.
It meant remembering…
Me must conquer monster.
And I can.

Dear Cam,
There has been a lot of silly, distracting talk about your touchdown dance this week. I wanted to step on the dance floor and share my own silly steps…
I love to watch you play, you play with passion and joy!
Don’t let the critics and cynics steal your joy!
Haters will always try to silence celebrators.
Don’t let those who have forgotten the dance steps keep you from dancing.
People who can’t hear the music always try to shut down the song.
Don’t listen to them.
You play with the enthusiasm of a kid…a 6’5″ kid!
That is beautiful and refreshing and contagious.
But it’s unacceptable to a lot of people who take themselves too seriously.
It makes them nervous because they can’t control it.
They would much rather you play like a businessman or a thug.
Don’t listen to them.
The best role models are those who can be themselves, make the world a better place and inspire others to do the same, you are doing that!
So…
Keep pounding,
Keep dancing and…
Dab on them folks.

We are BIG race fans!
We love going to races in person!
The fans, the fumes, the funnel cakes!!
It’s a magical redneck wonderland.
But most races we only get to watch on TV.
That’s not a bad thing, in fact there are some distinct advantages to watching from home. I thought about this during a lazy moment and I came up with…(halfhearted drumroll please)…

The advantages of watching a race from my big comfortable chair…

Well, I AM in my BIG COMFORTABLE CHAIR!!
BESIDES THAT…
I rarely get flipped off for wearing my Kyle Busch t-shirt.
Pants are optional.
I get to go to the bathroom whenever I want.
When I DO go to the bathroom, I don’t have to stand in sewage because the toilets overflowed during the second caution.
It doesn’t take me two and a half hours to get out of the parking lot.
I don’t have to stand up every three minutes so that the over friendly JR fan can go to the bathroom AGAIN!
I get to watch wrecks seventeen times (sometimes in SLO-MO!)
Nobody throws boiled peanuts at me.
Nobody spills beer on me every twenty three minutes.
I pay about three bucks for a package of ten hotdogs instead of seven bucks for ONE cold hotdog.
It takes me about seven seconds to find my chair.
I don’t have to wear clunky headphones.
I don’t have to leave early to beat the crowd.
No sunburn.
No chemically confident young bucks looking for a fight.
I can hear the people around me.
And finally…
I don’t have to pick burnt rubber bits out of my chullet.

Courage is a commodity that is required for change.
When we think of the word courage we think of the big, public displays of bravery…the revolutions, William Wallace, the Sit-ins, Martin Luther, Rocky Balboa.
All great examples of courage.
Change happens when we muster up the courage to stand up for ourselves, to fight back, to make a new start.
But, what if the biggest courage isn’t big at all.
In fact, it is quite small.
What if the greatest courage is displayed in just being yourself.
Are we brave enough to be broken.
It takes special Courage to be honest…to be real…to acknowledge that you are authentically imperfect.
There is a strength that is only found in weakness.
We try to be strong and impressive.
We prop up our person with position, power and prestige. We think it will make us look brave and independent.
We are so scared of being vulnerable.
But it takes real courage just to say…this is me…
Gifted yet flawed…beautifully needy…
True freedom is found in dependence.
You have to muster the courage to lean hard into arms that are bigger than yours.
I need to find the raw courage to confess that I need help, I’m flawed and I don’t care who knows it.
If you want to find the road to whole, you have to be brave enough to be broken.
Unfurl your flaws.
We are like Glow sticks that only start to shine when they are broken and shaken. We only really shine when we build on our brokenness and let the light of Christ seep through our cracks.
Be brave enough to be broken and you will find yourself being built into the courageous person you were born to be.

Why are the most fun things on a playground, the monkey bars and merry go round, also most dangerous?

Why is Shaggy, on Scooby Doo, always hungry?

If peanut butter has as much protein as liver, why would ANYBODY ever eat liver?

If we aren’t supposed to pick our noses, why are our fingers a perfect fit for our nostrils?

Why do people seem to outgrow the ability to wonder?

What is inside a Stretch Armstrong action figure?

Why do dogs have to die sooner than we do?

Why does Christmas Eve seem like it lasts forever?

Who thinks its a good idea to interrupt Starsky and Hutch with the State of the Union speech?

Why isn’t Evel Knievel the President?

Why do grown ups fight over the silliest things?

How did Darth Vader become so mean?

How, after getting beat to a pulp, does Hulk Hogan always manage to start shaking and find the inner strength to make a come back?

How come banana seats make you ride faster?

Is that real hair on GI Joe’s face?

Why is the Skipper on Gilligan’s Island such a bully?

Why ARE there bullies?

Is there anybody as cool as the six million dollar man?

Why does water taste better when it comes out of a garden hose on a summer day?

Do I really have to grow up?

“If your enemy is hungry, give him something to eat; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. For your kind treatment will be like heaping hot coals on his head, it may cause a change in heart, and the eternal will repay you.” – Proverbs 25:21-22

I gotta be honest, the verbiage of this Proverb has always confused me a bit…
Give your enemy a sandwich and a Coke, then you will be heaping burning coals on their head….BAHAAHAAA! (evil, maniacal laugh!!)
Is Solomon suggesting an alternative way to stick it to our enemies?
Be kind and you will REALLY burn them, kill them with kindness…
That seems a little messed up.
If our kindness kills, I don’t think it’s really, truly kindness.
Kindness can be confusing.
Human kindness can be hard for us humans!
It’s not our natural setting. Revenge and selfishness are most often our defaults.
Here’s what I’m learning…
In a world where hostility is the norm, kindness is shocking.
It’s like a defibrillator that shocks people back to life.
It is sudden and unexpected, it electrifies the heart.
Kindness can electrify the hardest heart, it can shock our enemy back to life.
Life is always the goal.
The picture of heaping hot coals on someone’s head is shocking.
BUT, I don’t believe it’s meant to burn.
It’s meant to awaken by whatever means necessary.
Kindness is meant to get the attention of someone and point them in the direction of a shocking hope.
Kindness is meant to shock someone back to life.
In the context of this scripture kindness is simply providing the most fundamental of human needs, food for the hungry and drink for the thirsty.
Here’s a shocker, together, kindness, food, and drink are seeds for friendship.
Let’s turn our enemies into friends.
Let’s shock the world to life!!

How many dreams did we live out?
How many times did we laugh out loud?
How many times were we left breathless by the wonder of creation?
How many smiles did we cause?
How many words of hope did we speak?
How many burdens did we help carry?
How many places did we go today that we actually wanted to go?
How many times did we say “I love you” and really meant it?
How many times did we refuse to hold onto offense and instead we forgave?
How many times did we define ourselves by numbers that don’t matter?

count the stuff that counts!!

He comes in the shadows of our everyday life…
Intent on filling our days with constant activity.
He is cloaked in a static veil of all the best intentions and good work ethics…
He is a subtle villain who steals our time and leaves us with regret at the end of our journey.
He is Dr. Do More.
He is the killer of sabbaths.
He is the deceptive destroyer of family time.
He is the purveyor of the perpetual.
His accusations pound our soul…
What you’re doing is not enough.
step up to the plate.
They can’t do it without you.
Do it for the team.
Get back to work.
You need one more big event to be successful.
You can find your worth in your work.
Climb that ladder and fill that calendar.
Prove yourself.
Do More!!
Don’t listen to him, he is a liar.
You are enough!
You are successful when you are being who you were created to be, and doing what grows out of that.
You can do something, but you CAN’T do it all and you were never meant to.
Find that thing that you can’t NOT do and hold onto it.
Let the things that ANYbody can do drop to the ground.
Take time back and take the time to really enjoy life with the people IN your life.
Stop and notice.
kick off your shoes and dance.
Laugh and love.
Rest and rebuild.
Be the absolute best YOU ever, because you aren’t going to happen again.
Dr. Do More is silenced by the everlasting BE More.