Where Are You Going?

When I was around 8 or 9 years old, my dad decided to take the family on a nice and relaxing hike.  So my parents loaded my two brothers, my sister and I into our '76 Blazer and we headed across the mountains to Smith Rock State Park. I remember how hot and thick with dust the trail was as we set out on our little hike.  Thinking the trails would be clearly marked, my dad had not saw it necessary to bring a trail map. As we meandered throughout the towering peaks deeper and deeper into more and more rugged terrain, it became slowly obvious that his lack of foresight had been a mistake.  As the afternoon drug on, my father led us all around that park, choosing paths at random with the hope that the next turn would lead us out.  As I recall, we had not packed enough water to last much more than a quick hike in and out, something which was causing no small amount of irritation amongst my parents.  Finally, late in the afternoon, we saw a group of hikers on a ridge and my dad was able to get their attention through a series of screams, gutteral grunts and calisthenics.  They  were able to provide directions as to how we could escape our plight.  I do not recall the hike out nor the drive to Redmond.  But I do remember sitting on an open tailgate in the parking lot at Safeway and the delicious feel of an ice cold grape soda as it trickled down my parched throat....

Standing in the middle of those towering cliffs, my father did not need a solution to a problem.  He was not looking for an answer as his eyes searched the ridge.  What he needed was the right direction.  He had led his family down the wrong path and now he was standing where every wrong path leads..The wrong destination.  He knew that only the right path would lead us to where we wanted to go.  Lately, that truth has been becoming more apparent every day as I observe people all around me moving quickly and hastily down paths that all lead to well established outcomes.  But even more painfully, I find myself on paths that I do not even recall choosing, but well on my way to the wrong destination.  I have relationships that mean more to me than my own life which, seemingly overnight, became strained.  My reactions becoming steps down a path that is well worn with the regrets of those who walked it before me. But what to do?!...

When I was 18 years old, my girlfriend and I drove down to Eugene to go shopping.  We took Brush Creek Road, a winding highway that cut through the hills.  It was a particularly desolate stretch of road, marked occasionally by ramshackle houses and crumbling outbuildings.  It was upon our return trip that my car broke down.  In the age before cell phones, my car sputtered to a shuddering stop on the side of an unlit stretch of country road, far from anyone we knew.  As the evening grew inky black, we waited and hoped that someone would stop, but the few cars that were on the road that night seemed to be in a hurry to escape the very stretch of road which we found ourselves stranded upon.  Finally, I saw dim headlights approaching.  As the car drew near, it slowed down  and I was able to identify an old beat-up Honda cvcc.  As It slowly drew past, I noticed it was missing its rear window, more room for the pit-bull to stick his head through.  The car drove past us and then slowly turned around and parked behind us.  I got out of the car and walked to meet the man who emerged from the Honda. 

He was a gaunt looking man wearing camo pants and a sleeveless shirt.  His greasy hair hung long from beneath his stained trucker hat.  As he approached, my eyes were drawn to his belt, where a .38 sat in a holster.  He asked if we needed help and, as I stood in the dark alone and scared, I told him yes.  He returned to his car and pulled it in front of mine.  Getting out, he reached into the back of his car past the dog which was staring at me, and pulled a length of chain out which he attached to the front of my car and the rear of his.  He returned to his car and with a jolt we began to slowly move. After a bit, as we slowly lurched along that lonely highway, the unthinkable happened.  His car suddenly swerved onto a road leading into the darkness away from the highway which led home....

My girlfriend began screaming, my thoughts raced to my parents and friends who would find out about our deaths from the newspaper... My heart beating, pounding, my nose running, I knew I did not want to go down that path!...So I hit my brakes with all my strength and I ground that Honda to a stop!!  I yelled at my girlfriend to stay in the car, opened the door and stepped out into the darkness to meet the man who was approaching our car.  I walked quickly to close the space between us as he reached towards his belt....

I will stop my story there to let my point sink in...I knew I did not want to go down that path so I used all my strength to STOP!! I did not have a car problem, I was going in the wrong direction; away from safety, away from home, towards destruction....


So I find myself today on a path that is leading away from where I want to go.  What do I do?  I first  must STOP.  And then, much like my father that day standing on that dusty trail, his eyes searching the ridge, I look for direction, from The One who always offers it.

What path are you on today? What is its natural destination? Is it leading away from safey, towards destruction?...Stop and return to the path that leads home..


Hear, my son, and accept my sayings
And the years of your life will be many.
I have directed you in the way of wisdom;
I have led you in upright paths.
When you walk, your steps will not be impeded;
And if you run, you will not stumble.
Take hold of instruction; do not let go.
Guard her, for she is your life.
Do not enter the path of the wicked
And do not proceed in the way of evil men.
Avoid it, do not pass by it;
Turn away from it and pass on.
-Proverbs 4:10-15

When my Heart is Dark, I Still Have Hope

I was raised within the church.  In a sense, quite literally raised.  I can not recall a childhood memory that is not somehow bookended by my time spent there.  Sunday school was followed by listening to Brother Allen's sermon at First Baptist Church. All the while, I sat next to my mother on a wooden pew trying to distinguish the patterns on the stained glass windows.  As soon as the final prayer ended, we kids would run down the steps and play in the large expanse of yard, often making it as far as Ames Creek to look for Crawdads beneath the mossy rocks.  Later that evening we would head back to church to listen to another sermon and then play tag to the dim glow cast by the streetlights.  As I got older, Wednesday Awanas was replaced by Royal Ambassadors .
Arts and craft times in the basement of our old church.  Youth sleepovers and afternoon potlucks.  The sound of the choir, never entirely on pitch, but resplendent in their scarlet robes.  Mr. Shockey shuffling  down the middle aisle, sitting in a chair beneath the pulpit and pulling out his accordion as my friends and I would muffle giggles beneath the disapproving gaze of our moms.   These are the memories of my childhood.  But there  are even more.
Summer mornings filling the hot sanctuary with squirmy children as we began Vacation Bible School.  Standing to the procession of the flags. The third floor of our church transformed into a walk of terror on Halloween as adults would pop out of darkened doorways eliciting screams from me and my church friends.  Being hauled out of church by my mother, my toes barely scraping the floor, for some offense deemed too severe to ignore.  The swift and painful discipline administered as soon as the heavy door swung shut behind us. Stepping out from my pew and walking down the aisle, feeling all the eyes upon me, to the strains of " Just As I Am".  Brother Allen leaning into my nine year old ear and whispering, " Hold your breath" as he baptized me in the baptismal behind the stage.  The sound of the applause of our little church family.

 I have taken wonderful memories with me as I left that old church and began a life that has ultimately led me to ministry.  But I also took something else, an affliction that has stayed with me throughout these years. As I listened to those sermons on sin, I began to focus on my behaviors and and took my eyes off of my Savior.  "How am I doing" became more important to me than what Jesus had already done. Consequently my faith became a lifestyle, a series of rules and guidelines dictating which behaviors were acceptable and which were not.  I lost sight of what I knew at nine, that Christ forgave my sins, and put all my effort into becoming more righteous.  As I grew older, I became even more accustomed to looking within my self for the strength to navigate the shifting sands of this life. The work of Christ on the cross became an afterthought, not the center of my faith.

But As I have grown older, I have faced circumstances beyond my strength.  Beat down, discouraged and weary, I looked inward, not to my faith, but to the strength I brought to my faith, and discovered that all my best efforts collapsed beneath the weight of my circumstances.     

Romans 5:1 says, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”.  It goes on to say in verse 10  that we’ve already been “reconciled to God by the death of his Son".  As I have looked down at my circumstances, I have looked inward for strength.  Discovering I lack it, I have looked up and found that the strength I need is present in the finished work of Christ. Where my heart lacks peace, the promises of Christ abound with it.  Even in my darkest seasons, when my heart is weak and my faith seems small, I still have hope. Not because of who I am, but because of what He did.

"True faith takes its character and quality from its object and not from itself. Faith gets a man out of himself and into Christ. Its strength therefore depends on the character of Christ. Even those of us who have weak faith have the same strong Christ as others"!-Sinclair Fergusen

As I write these words, my mind goes back to the small church of my childhood...And I can picture Brother Allen smiling.

Set Your Sights For The Shore

Florence Chadwick preparing for her first attempt

On August 8, 1950, Florence Chadwick crossed the English Channel in 13 hours and 20 minutes, breaking the  world record. One year later, Chadwick crossed the English Channel yet again, from England to France making her the first woman to swim the English Channel in both directions.  But she had even more goals in mind.  So it was that Florence found herself  two years later, at the age of 34, preparing to become the first woman to swim the 26 miles between Catalina Island and the California coastline.  On the fourth of July 1952, Florence waded into the frigid water and began her journey.  She was flanked by small boats whose job was to watch for sharks and offer assistance if necessary.  Several times the boats fired upon sharks that swam alarmingly close to Florence. Hour after hour Florence swam, but after about 15 hours, as a thick, heavy fog set in, Florence began to doubt her ability.   She told her mother, who was in one of the nearby boats, shrouded in fog, that she didn’t think she could make it.  Both her mother and  trainer  offered encouragement. They told her it couldn't be much further, but she continued to grow discouraged.   They urged her not to quit, something she had never done . . . Until that day.

As she sat in the boat, Florence found out she had stopped swimming less than one mile away from the California shoreline. It was not the frigid water, not the sharks nor the exhaustion that caused her to lose hope.  Florence explained that she stopped swimming because she could no longer see the coastline.  There was simply too much fog. Having lost sight of her goal, she had quit.

Does that seem somehow familiar?  We live in a world that competes for our attention.  It tells us how we should look, how we should speak, what to drive, whether we are attractive or not.  Every commercial and magazine is communicating a message as to what we should focus upon. On top of that, we often give our best: to school, sports, relationships, only to experience heartache in return.  Even for the most ardent of believers, the temptation to lose focus is nearly overwhelming when it seems our efforts never seem to work out as we had hoped.  Life is hard, and the fog can be overwhelming.

But where is the shoreline?  For a parent, it is the vision of their child fully grown and living for Christ.  For a spouse, its a lifetime of faithfulness 'till death do they part.  For a teenager, its standing pure before his bride on his wedding day.  As life hurls its slings and arrows at all of us, it is the clear vision of our goal that keeps us moving forward.  But it is not just a vision of a future, but the future rewards that give us the strength to persevere, to carry on despite the troubles that attempt to weight us down.  Its why athletes put in the work, the time, and never call it a sacrifice.  They believe that the completion of their goal will bring a reward which outweighs anything they may have "given up".

"..I count all things loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my lord.."  -Philippians 3:8

The surpassing value of knowing Christ as our Lord, Savior and friend should be the north star that pulls us home.  Even as the fog grows thick and our hearts grow weak, it is the knowledge that His promises are true that serves as a beacon.

Two months after Florence Chadwick climbed into the boat, she tried again. This time, despite the same dense fog, she swam with her faith intact and her goal clearly pictured in her mind. She knew that somewhere behind that fog was land and this time she made it! Florence Chadwick became the first woman to swim the Catalina Channel, eclipsing the men’s record by two hours.

Florence completing the swim