Hope Amidst The Mess

On May 21st, 1998, I was teaching at East Linn Christian Academy when I received word that a student at Thurston high school had brought weapons to school and opened fire.  We stopped class and awaited the developing news coming out of Eugene, just 50 miles away.  I can remember the looks on the faces of the students in my Bible class.  I remember their questions and I can recall my response, "Lets Pray"...

On September 11, 2001, I was preparing to head out the door to the juvenile correctional facility where I worked when my wife told me that a plane had just hit the World Trade Center.  I saw the first footage air on the news, shocked and stunned like millions of Americans across the nation whose lives had just been altered forever.  I listened to the news as I drove to work and, upon entering the violent offender unit, gathered the youth together in the main room, located a television and sat with these young men who stared horrified as the towers fell.  We canceled the morning classes and I sat in that locked facility and struggled to answer questions from scared young men, whose tough exteriors crumbled beneath the weight of true fear.  When there was a break in the newscast, I walked out into the interior courtyard encircled by drab gray concrete walls, and I prayed...

Over the last 11 years, my children have grown, I have left one career, entered into another, left that career and returned to full-time youth ministry.  I have coached and watched hundreds of athletic events.  I have celebrated births and spoke lovingly at the funerals of saints.  I have gained and lost the same 15 lbs more than once and been dismayed as I have begun to see the face of my father look back at me from the mirror.  I have been upset over my child's playing time and outraged over poor officiating.  I have tried to raise my income and spent hours worried about bills. I have went about my busyness of living and the memories of those tragic days spent confused and questioning God, the scared faces of kids looking for answers, have slowly slipped into my distant memory....Until last week.

Suddenly, none of my life's selfish pursuits seemed so important. As word of the terror that evil had visited upon a community much like ours hit the news, the time my child had on the field was not nearly as vital as the time spent in my arms. The money I did or didn't have not so important as the time I still had, time to tell them I loved them, time to create memories.  The wrinkles on my face did not consume me as much as my desire for my children to live a long and happy life, time for them to develop wrinkles of their own... To see the face of their father looking back at them from their mirror....Because what I felt was not that it could happen here, but rather that it might happen here....

You see, the truth is scary.  We live in a broken world.  It is not as it should be, and we cannot control it. Evil is present and real, despite our desire that it not be so.  And so we shift the discussion immediately to things we can control; Gun laws, the merits of behavioral medication...Anything which can take our minds away from what haunts the recesses of our psyche and gnaws at our hearts...It might happen here, and we cannot control it.  Surely, we can take precautions.  We can use wisdom.  But how do you combat the presence of evil? The twisted darkness that desires to kill?  Despite my best efforts to create a life that is ordered and sane, this past week reminded me once again that we live in a broken world...One that cries out to be restored.  But is that not why Jesus was born in that barn, amidst the mess?  Because it is messy, this world we live in, and He came not to stay clean, pristine and unreachable. No, He came to give hope to those in the dirt, their tears darkening the ground beneath them.  He chose to be born far away from the trappings of wealth so that those who feel far away can draw near to Him.  I don't understand the thoughts of God, but I know He understands my suffering, because He endured it...All to give me hope in midst of a broken world..

Last week, my wife texted me that a schoolroom of small children had been killed.  I avoided the news, changing the channel whenever the footage of a mourning community began to roll.  I tried to push the thoughts far from my mind as I looked at my own children.  But I found myself weeping, the reality pushing in despite my efforts to keep just such thoughts at arms length...The world is broken...My heart is broken..And so I do the only thing I know to do...I pray..........

This past week, I found myself, yet again, standing frozen in the middle of a pizza parlor watching the images of a shooting at a school, this time at a college not far from my comfortable little town. I thought of my college age son, my soon to be college bound daughter, and my joy filled youngest son, so unaware of what evil exists within the world.  And, again, with my eyes misting over....I prayed. I prayed for the residents of Roseburg, for the families touched by the tragedy, for those faithful flocking to the school to offer help and encouragement.  And I prayed for God to remind me to lean into Him, to comfort the fear I felt rising within me....To remind me that while evil exists and tomorrow is uncertain, He has overcome this world.  And so,  I choose today, yet again , to hold to His promises, to not give in to fear, but rather to release myself to continue to love others as He has called me to do.  To live my life in such a way that answers the question to all those around me, the question asked by the shooter last week to those in that classroom, " Are you a christian?".

The Christmas Card Hallmark will Never Print

Last night I went to a church function and had a wonderful dinner.  After dinner, I joined a band onstage and sang carols to the crowd.  The lights in the sanctuary were dimmed and the trees behind me sparkled, the lights glowing softly and reflecting off the walls.  It was a wonderful time, filled with laughter and warmth.  I left and went to a house where the Christmas tree dominates the dining room and the stockings are indeed "hung with care".  During this Christmas season, most of our homes will be filled with the aroma of baked yummies and the sound of our favorite Christmas tunes playing in the living room.  Many of us will force our kids to sit still while their photos are taken in clothes they never actually wear and then send out Christmas cards to people we never actually see.  We will head out to parties and drink egg nog.  We will go to the fire station and take down a name from the tree so that we can buy a toy for a tot.  On the Sunday prior to Christmas, people who haven't been to church since Easter will crowd into churches all across America and sing about the birth of Jesus Christ.  In many of these churches, the pastor will open up his Bible and turn to Luke where he will read the Christmas story full of Heavenly Choirs and worshiping shepherds.  Afterwards, the masses will file out with smiling faces and look forward to opening up their presents in a few short days.

 But there is another event which accompanied the arrival of our Savior upon that dusty backwater region of Israel.  And while you will find Christmas card after Christmas card displaying beautiful angels and adorable nativity scenes, you will never see a card telling this tale nor hear a carol sung in a church.  It is the tale of  mad King Herod, driven insane with paranoia and insecurity, ordering the slaughter of every male infant beneath the age of two.  It is the tale of a legion of Roman soldiers, professional killers all, descending upon a sleepy little burg unaware of the horror coming its way.  Instead of angelic hosts singing in the moonlit sky, it is the sound of terrified parents and screaming babies as they are wrenched from their mothers arms and murdered in the dusty streets.  Instead of Christmas lights, it is the flash of torches reflecting in swords as they strike every male child beneath the age of two in Bethlehem.  It was a horrific and unspeakable act...And one that hearkened the arrival of God on the earth.  You see, God had entered the enemies territory...God had begun the rescue.( Matt. 2:16-18 )


You see, the greatest rescue attempt the universe had ever seen was met with desperate resistance from the enemy who desired nothing so much as to kill and murder all those that the king loves so dearly.  The Little town of Bethlehem did not sleep peacefully on that night.  

This season, there are many families among us sleeping restlessly themselves...They are suffering from the pain of a spouse turning their back on the promises they made,   friends and loved ones struggling with the fear and confusion which cancer has delivered into their lives, the horrible toll which the chemo has extracted from them  parents who must watch their children suffer through no fault of their own, who must now mourn all that they had thought their child would become as they face the uncertain reality of what the future now holds for them instead.  All around us are people who see the lights and festive yard ornaments promising "Peace" and feel like strangers in their own lives.  They want to scream "What Peace?!"......

But the arrival of God into the lives of men on that night so many years ago did not bring peace.  It brought HOPE!  Hope for all those who so desperately need it.  Hope for the confused.  Hope for the hurting.  Hope that they have a future.  Hope that, despite their present circumstances, God will provide.  Because what that night, long ago in that stable proved to them is that they are not forgotten, they are not alone.

I was once told by a wise man that the two most powerful forces in the universe are hope and forgiveness....Because of Christmas, we have access to both.








 

Twilight, Team Edward and my Daughter

For many years, I have felt the tension that arises from being a believer who lives in a secular world.  Growing up in the church, I can remember the heated debates over the merits of christian music versus the sensuous beat of rock and roll.  I once worked at a christian school where an administrator was outraged that we introduced drums into the chapel worship time.  During my first year of teaching, a student hid his copy of a Stephen King novel as I walked by and was shocked by my familiarity with the author.  I have read the entire Harry Potter series and yet have some people in my life whom I respect who feel that believers should avoid such things.  I have no problem listening to the opinions of other believers and I have, at times, changed an opinion that I held after just such a discussion.   The tension that arises from the freedoms we possess as Christians living under grace, free from the law, is very real and requires wisdom and prayer to reconcile.  I do not suppose to have all the answers.

Over the past few years, the Twilight series of books and movies has become incredibly popular.  This series revolving around the love between a mortal girl Bella and her vampire lover Edward is complicated by the amorous feelings which Jacob, a young werewolf, has for her....yeah, I know...Throw in vampire babies and sparkling skin and the fact that this series gained popularity is beyond me also.  Its cheesy, poorly written, the movies are horribly acted, the plot lines are tedious....And I've read them all.

I did so because my daughter and her friends were all reading them and I wanted to be involved in the conversations that these young teenage girls were having.  I have playfully listed the merits of Jacob vs. Edward over pizza ( Jacob is much cooler, Edward is a skinny wimp ) and rented the movies, popped popcorn and subjected myself to the worst acting I have ever seen...Because I am a Dad, and that's what dads do.

But now I can confess the truth....I hate these books.  They go against every thing I believe, none of which have anything to do with vampires, werewolves, etc..  Again, I know of many people who have told me that a believer should not read such things and I will leave that for others to decide for themselves.  But as a youth pastor, the message in this series is far more subtle and dangerous than sparking vampires and shirtless werewolves.  My daughter will never meet a sparkling perpetual teenage vampire with glowing eyes and great hair.  She will never meet a dark and brooding werewolf with great abs.  But she will meet a teenage boy with great hair and a sparkling tongue, one that spews forth what she wants so much to hear.  She will meet brooding and troubled bad boys who will tell her that only she "understands" them...

Anyone who works with teenagers can tell you heartbreaking stories of young girls who so desperately wanted to be loved, to feel special, that they entered into relationships that gave birth to brokenness and heartache.  The real storyline of Twilight is not one of love but of obsession, of a teenage girl who is willing to give up her friends, her family and her life for a boy.  It is page after page outlining what in real life is not romantic but tragic for those of us who have witnessed it.  It is the re-telling of a lie older than myself.  Star crossed young lovers who the world was against...Romeo and Juliet died in a double suicide....Not love, not romantic, just tragic.

I want my daughter to know what love really looks like.  It looks like two people loving each other enough to let them be themselves.  It looks like a couple waiting til marriage to have sex because they want whats best not just for themselves but even more for each other.  It looks like a wedding in front of your friends and family, your dad crying as he walks you up the aisle.  It looks like long walks planning your future and asking God to be a part of it.  It looks like a mother holding a child for the very first time as her husband just stares, equal parts amazed and terrified.  It looks like your husband working long hours but still finding the energy to sit and play tea party with a little girl who wore her tea dress all day waiting for daddy to get home.  It looks like the day that everything goes wrong and your world is turned upside down, but this man, this father, stands in the gap, giving strength he doesn't have to his little family so that they can heal and believe.  It looks like doing shifts in the hospital tending to one child and then heading home and loving your others so that they feel safe. It looks like using all of your vacation time to support whatever season your children are in, soccer, football, cheer, baseball, track, wrestling.  Driving long hours all day only to return just in time for your husband to head to his graveyard shift.  You want to see real love?  Watch a bus as it pulls away to drive two hours to the zoo on a field trip.  You will see love scrunched up in a seat next to his or her child who's chatting a mile a minute, blissfully unaware that their parent was up all night cleaning up vomit and worse from another child who woke them up from a deep slumber with their retching.  Find a Sunday School class and watch a parent who gives of their time to give their child the one thing they need the most.  Watch a football game or a cheerleading competition and see the child decked out in all the gear they need and then scan to the smiling parent in the stands: the one holding the camera and wearing 5 year old jeans they bought at a thrift store....

Real love doesn't always sparkle.  It doesn't always have great abs.  Often it eventually loses its hair and puts on weight...But it is real.  It shows up, doesn't back down and it never leaves.  Even when the world tells it that it has no reason to stay, it does.  

You want to see real love.  Watch the old man who tends to his wife.  Cuts her food, wipes her chin, takes her to the rest room and puts her to bed. Even though he knows that this side of Heaven, she will never again remember their life together; the children they raised, the dreams they had, even his name....But he stays, and honors his vows, and he loves her.

You want to see real love, put down the book and look around...Real love is all around you.