It’s a snow day.
I’m sitting here watching some neighborhood kids sliding down a little hill behind our townhouse on makeshift sleds. They are sliding on cardboard and plastic trash can lids.
They are so bundled up that they can barely move. They are wrapped up in coats, scarves, stocking hats and wool gloves.
They look like brightly colored, slightly swollen snow monsters as they hurl themselves down the hill.
I love that about kids, when life throws snow in their face, they look for a sled!
Adults don’t do that, we look for a shovel.
Shovels aren’t nearly as fun as sleds.
This reminds me of a story.
You can find some great stories on snowy days!
Diana and I went to school at a little bitty Bible college in Virginia. (It’s where we met, so it is a downright magical place to me).
It is also a beautiful place, especially on a snowy day.
Our campus was in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
One time we got a lot of snow.
We were some crazy college students, still young enough to look for the sled.
There was a large hill right in front of the school…perfect!!
Our friend, Linda, had bought a huge inner tube from a local garage.
Me and my buddy, Mark, asked Linda if we could borrow her super tube. We foolishly promised that nothing would happen to it. We got it and set off looking for some cold adventure.
Mark was on one side of the tube, I was on the other. We pushed off and started to slide down the hill…
BUT WAIT…
There was a guy there that day, who has since became a good friend. His name was Shaun Chalupnik. He was visiting his girlfriend/future wife, Dawn, who is one of the sweetest humans to ever live! Shaun was a burly football player. He was over six feet of hairy muscle.
I was introduced to Shaun when he jumped on top of our inter tube as we started down the hill. (This was a literal icebreaker!!)
Three things happened at that point…
1. We picked up speed considerably… I’m pretty sure we were going about 278 miles a hour.
2. The inner tube exploded! This did not slow us down, it just allowed us to feel every rock and stick we slid over.
3. We went out of control, we went farther than we planned on. We flew all the way down the hill into a barbed wires fence.
It. Was. Awesome.
You can find some great stories in the snow!
What if life is meant to be like a wild ride down a beautiful snowy hill.
You don’t know what to expect and that is the crazy, fun, surprising part!!
You push off and hurl yourself into a uncontrollable future.
It’s ALWAYS more fun with a friend.
Sometimes, you depend on the generosity and grace of friends. (Sorry we killed your tube Linda!)
Sometimes you take on unexpected passengers or challenges.
Sometimes you hit the trees, rocks or fences. You get scraped up. But, you learn that after some healing, scars become the best stories.
At the end you catch your breath (you ever notice that your breath is always easier to catch in the winter because you can see it!). You look back up the hill that you just came down, excited that you made it, and you celebrate with a steaming cup of hot cocoa (preferably with the miniature marshmallows).
A while back, I went on a ski trip and I ended up staying in the lodge the whole time.
I was warm and comfortable and bored.
I left with no stories at all, it was pretty sad.
We were never meant to live in the lodge.
The story is found on the slopes!
So bundle up and find a buddy.
Push off and slide into your beautiful story.
Self consciousness is a thief of childhood joy.
It squeezes a lot of silliness right out of our souls.
We start worrying more about what people think about us than about just enjoying the gift of life.
We lose our grip on play because we try to grab prestige and position.
We compare ourselves.
We worry if we measure up.
We lose the important things that we know when we are kids.
We get busy climbing up ladders and we forget the slide.
But it’s never too late to remember the early life lessons.
One really great thing about getting older is the opportunity to remember what you used to know.
You should get to the point when you can FINALLY accept you!
Life becomes fun again when you finally have nothing to prove.
You should come to the end of your self and start prioritizing the things that matter AGAIN. You get to REMEMBER!
Here are some things that I have remembered:
Use ALL of the colors in the crayon box, and don’t worry about staying inside the lines.
Turn rain puddles into dance floors!
Farts are always funny.
My feet don’t match, why should my socks?
Sometimes you got to stop and taste the paste.
Skipping is always better than walking.
Sometimes your dog is the only one who understands.
Anything (macaroni, beans, tissues, etc.) can become priceless art.
If you are wrong, admit it.
If you are lost, ask for help.
The greatest football games EVER have taken place in front yards.
Tropical punch Kool-Aid is AWESOME!
You can organize the fun right out of play, just go with it!
You can usually find interesting things on red dirt roads.
Nostrils are finger sized for a reason!
You should read something for fun everyday.
You should only eat jello with your hands.
Lightning bugs are one of God’s coolest inventions.
Never pass up the chance to lick the mixing bowl.
You can talk to Jesus anytime and anywhere.
Never let the fact that you can’t play an instrument keep you from joining the band.
A lot of hurts can be healed with tomato soup and a hug from your mom.
Say “I love you” a lot.
Leave your mark. Carve your initials in a tree, leave your handprint in wet cement. Let people know you were here.
AND…
If you are going to climb a ladder, make sure there is a slide on the other side.
Jesus: “Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.” (Matt. 6:19-21)
I believe in heaven.
Because of that belief, I spend a good amount of time with my head in the clouds.
Because of that belief, I have the hope that NOW is not ALL.
Because of that belief, I have the hope that I will someday be reunited with people I love and miss.
I believe in heaven.
I was brought up to believe that my ranking in heaven depended on my behavior on earth.
If I work REAL hard and avoid all the wrong stuff and do all the right stuff, then someday in heaven, I will get a lot of shiny bling.
I can earn awards, authority and accolades.
I was taught this and I have taught others this.
Sometimes, we treat heaven like a big awards assembly or an employee recognition program.
We get the credit, the crown, the BIG, BIG house.
After all, we worked hard, we deserve it, right?
This where heaven gets ugly.
One of the results of that thinking is that charity becomes more competition than concern.
“I do more than you, so I get a bigger mansion.”
“I want more jewels on my crown.”
I really don’t know if that thinking reflects the heart of heaven.
I was pondering this and I got Spirit-slapped by a thought…
What is treasure in heaven, REALLY?
For starters, what does the all sufficient Creator of EVERYthing treasure?
How does God define treasure?
I don’t think he defines it the same way we do.
He doesn’t need a Rolex or a private jet.
He isn’t impressed by shiny bling or bank accounts.
Are you ready for this? It might blow your mind right out of your face! (I warned you!)
I really think that the Eternal One defines treasure as “US”.
YOU are the pearl of great price that Jesus died to purchase.
YOU, ME, US, THEM…
To the One who paid the forever price…
WE ARE THE FOREVER TREASURE.
Trophies of grace…
Validated by a love that we definitely did not earn.
I think the rankings in heaven are pretty limited…
Champion: that’s not us, the only champion is the one who was crucified and beat death.
Cherubim: that’s also not us, that’s the angels.
Children: that IS us!! We are simply children who should all be equal in our delirious wonder that we made it to the table!
We are the treasure.
Christ finds his treasure in us.
We find our treasure in Him AND the fellow children we brought to Him.
What if the treasure we are promised are relationships?
Relationship with our Deliverer and relationships with family and friends.
A continuation of connection that was begun on earth.
What if someday, on the other side, you and Jesus go treasure hunting and it looks something like this:
Jesus: “my beloved treasure, do you see my other treasure over there sitting at the table? Do they look familiar? Let me tell you how you helped them find their place at the table. Your small act of kindness, your words, your unselfishness caused them to want to know me! And do you remember that barista that you talked to everyday? She’s right over there! She’s experiencing forever LIFE because you weren’t afraid of her lifestyle “
My friends, I now believe, with all my heart, that THAT is the treasure!
It’s all about Knowing Jesus and getting to know our family.
We have an eternity to do it!
Relationship is the reward.
It’s a holy friendship that is literally out of this world.
What if treasure in heaven is all based on who you know?
I know Jesus. AND HE”s RIGHT OVER THERE!!
I know there are people here because I helped them find their place at the family table.
And that is all.
And that is enough.
Sometimes we treat heaven like a big awards assembly, we totally miss the point…
It’s actually going to be a family reunion, a perpetual party!!!
I believe in Heaven.
When the saints go marching in?
We march in with our achievements, accolades and appearance.
But, they are not enough.
No matter what we have or haven’t done we are united in our not-enoughness.
Our efforts will never earn us a place at the table.
No one gets in alone, we have to be carried across the threshold like a bride.
We lean into the strong arms of love, trusting and surrendering.
We walk with a limp, fully aware of our brokenness, fully propped up by grace.
Only grace.
Our good is never good enough.
Grace…only grace makes us enough.
Rather than March, Saints marvel.
They marvel at the wonder of a love stronger than death.
Gratitude is our response.
No chest pumping or finger pointing.
Only gratitude.
We dance with a limp.
Lost in the fact that we are no longer lost.
When the Saints go limping in,
O Lord, I want to be in your arms.
Forever grateful for your gift of enough.
The Road Too Frequently Taken.
(With heartfelt apologies to Robert Frost and Steve Taylor)
Two roads diverged in a yellow-bellied wood,
And I took them both
And that has made all the difference
I was sure that I could do it, after all I’m morally dexterous!
I’m able to juggle my convictions while walking the tightrope of my selfish urges.
I’ve been doing it for years and I’ve fooled everyone, including, at times, myself.
I like to have my cake and eat it too, along with some pie and a second helping of cake, please.
So I take both roads, the high and the low. It requires a great deal of flexibility, but I prefer stretching to surrendering.
And I live a life defined by no definition.
I shall be telling this with a sigh.
This is a tale of a sad road trip.
Because, in the end I realized that when you walk two roads, it tears you apart.
All us phonies get it wrong,
Double lives take half as long.
When I was sixteen, my fashion icons were mostly professional wrestlers.
Jake “the Snake” Roberts had this really wicked curly mullet. I thought it looked so cool.
I had a baby mullet. I was sure that if I got a perm, I would look like Jake “the Snake”.
I was pretty sure that this was my ticket to popularity.
This was my ticket to get an actual girl to actually talk to me, and possibly get engaged or give each other hickeys.
So I got a partial perm.
The curls were supposed to start on the back of my head, about ear level and coolly cascade down my neck.
It was one of those boxed home perms that smelled like a chemical and fried shrimp explosion.
It burned my scalp, made my eyes water and turned parts of my neck red.
Fashion fades, but, sometimes first it hurts.
We took the curlers out and something was immediately apparent…this was NOT good!
Something had backfired and I ended up with, quite possibly, the worst perm in the history of perms.
Around ear level in the back my hair defied gravity and several other laws of nature.
It just kind of exploded into a fuzzy mess.
I looked like a demented circus clown.
I frightened small children and people with heart conditions.
It looked like an angry poodle with split ends was desperately clinging to my head.
On the way home, I went through a McDonald’s drive through and the girl actually snorted when she saw me, she didn’t EVEN try to suppress the snort! Then she pointed at my head and said “OHHHMYGAWD!! What happened to you?”
That’s when it really sank in…
This was no harmless hairstyle.
It was a killer perm, it was bent on killing my social life and any chance I ever had at getting a hickey.
I knew that this killer perm couldn’t be allowed to live.
I drove straight over to my Aunt Judy’s house and begged her to fix it. She cut off all the twisted curls. It took some serious effort on her part to sculpt my scalp into something that I could go into public with.
She killed the killer perm.
I am a survivor.
Perms are never really permanent.
A fashion faux pas will fade.
Troubles will come and go.
You are left with a story and the faint odor of burnt fried chemical shrimp.
Growing up, I went to summer camp every year, in Buffalo Gap, Texas. It was a magical, enchanted place full of red dirt and sloppy joes.
The tabernacle was where we gathered for classes and services. It was an open air building, no walls, just concrete, a ceiling and hard wooden benches to sit on.
I spent A LOT of time in that place!
I made some serious choices that have navigated the rest of my life.
But, to be honest, sometimes things got boring.
Evening services could go on for hours.
There was music, and missionaries, and angry guest speakers talking about the evils of Rock and Roll.
It was almost more than a thirteen year old, with a short attention span and a wild imagination, could handle.
Me and my buddies would be sitting near the back, looking for ways to entertain ourselves.
That’s when we saw it…the BUG ZAPPER!
It was hanging by an extension cord in the back of the tabernacle.
It gave off a soft, blue glow.
It used that blue glow to attract and kill flying insects.
It electrocuted them.
It fried their little bug brains,
It was gruesome.
It was noisy.
It was gross.
We loved it!!!
It was better than cable TV!
We would set there, as somebody up front, with a tambourine, was loudly singing “Jehovah Jireh”, unable to take our adolescent eyes off the bug zapper.
It would give off it’s light, and bugs would be irresistibly attracted to the bug light.
These were no ordinary insects, these were West Texas mosquitoes, they could be as big as a child’s fist!!
They flew towards the light, they couldn’t stop AND…THEY WOULD GET ZAPPED!!
Ugly noises would resonate through the tabernacle…
ZALPLATH…SKIZZLEPHHH !!!
The soft sizzle of mosquito.
It was like silent insect screams.
The bugs actually became a part of the light. They seriously bonded.
They BECAME the bug zapper, silently reflecting the blue glow and welcoming their friends.
Let me turn this around and propose this crazy thought, I think we are supposed to be like that bug zapper.
Actually, I think we are supposed to be buddy zappers.
It is, in this case, a very good thing to get zapped. There are no silent mosquito screams or electrocution or the frying of brains.
Unlike the West Texas bug zapper, this is a zap that gives life.
If we don’t get zapped by the light we get zonked by the darkness.
It’s a life inducing zap!
Light is love.
Light is Jesus.
We need to bring people into the light and let love light them up.
Then, they become part of the light.
Let me explain…
In Genesis 1:3 God said “let there be light”
AND THERE WAS.
Here’s what that looked like from heaven:
“In the beginning the Word already existed. The Word was with God, and the Word was God. He existed in the beginning with God. God created everything through him, and nothing was created except through him. The Word gave life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.(John 1:1-5)
So, in the beginning there was a life giving light…and it was Jesus.
Light gives life
Then Jesus makes it super clear :
“Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, “I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.”(John 8:12)
Then He flips it around:
He is talking to His friends and He says,“You are the light of the world—like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.” (Matthew 5:14-16)
SOOO….”let THERE be light” becomes “let ME be light”.
When we are in Christ, and He is in us, we become the light.
His light shines through us.
Like a candle shining through a glass bulb, His light shines through us, every time we are kind.
Anytime we reflect His goodness in an ugly world, we are being the light…we are being the buddy zapper.
So c’mon, be the buddy zapper.
Draw people to the light with your kindness.
Don’t be rude, don’t shine the blinding light in their face and expect them to follow you.
Use your light to illuminate their path.
Light shows the way.
We stumble in the dark, but, we dance in the light.
Light helps you see things for what they really are.
Darkness can be scary and confusing.
Show people the way.
Illuminate.
Light.
Be the bug zapper!
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.
carbonated joy 