Children of the Burning Heart

2011-08-21T21:08:00.001-07:00

Fighting My Demons All the Way up the Mountain

Just about a year ago my second son was in the wedding of a friend and for the bachelor "party" they climbed the third highest peak in Oregon, South Sister. Sitting in the Cascade Range in Central Oregon at a height of 10, 358 feet, the view is breathtaking but the hike is brutal. To quote one writer, "....the extremely difficult trail to the summit of South Sister gains a staggering 4900 feet of elevation in 5.5 miles ..." So, when they decided to put together another trip this year, of course I wanted to go.

Rewind a little bit: several years ago when we were preparing to go overseas with our mission organization we had a weekend of team-building activities, one of which was climbing a 30 foot rock wall. I climbed well for about 20 feet but didn't make it to the top. I tried again, climbed well at the bottom, but could not make it to the top. I have never felt good about that. Item two: just this last December there were several of us who had trained for a half-marathon and the day of the run arrived. I had hurt my knee a couple of weeks earlier and as a result I ran about half of the half before I had to quit because of the pain in my right knee. I still don't feel good about not being able to run the race.

So now it is Saturday and we have started the hike up South Sister. It is not too bad at the start except it is all uphill and it will never get better! I am carrying as much water as I can, a few energy bars and some basic survival stuff. My son had coached me that the best thing I could do was carry as little as possible because every ounce would punish me later in the climb.

We hiked and hiked and hiked and hiked. The summit is just over 6 miles from the trailhead, but that is the longest 6 miles that I have ever undertaken. We climbed through the mini-boulder field to the false summit and I saw for the first time the path to the top. How could I make it? It was so much further up than where we were at the time and I was already spent. Resting for awhile, drinking water, eating fruit and drinking more water helped to revive my spirits and I set out for the top. In the back of my mind were the two significant challenges that I had not succeeded at. I did not want this trip to be a third attempt and a third failure.

The final climb involves a field of loose lava gravel that might be likened to climbing a sand dune -- but a really steep sand dune. Every step forward resulted in some forward progress and some sliding back downhill. Add to that the altitude and the constant need for water (my mouth was like cotton) and progress was incredibly slow. I had to pace myself, one minute hiking, one minute resting. Every time I rested I looked up the slope and willed myself to take a few more steps. I am pretty sure that the whole way I was convinced that I wasn't going to make it another step.

Little by little, after about another hour of slow climbing I was at the top! I had survived and I was up there! There was no failure -- maybe there was even a little bit of redemption for things unfinished. In the back of my mind as I pushed up the hill was the voice of my son who had assured me several times that I would make it and I would feel great and I would be successful. His words of encouragement and his expression of faith in my ability to make it to the top pushed me step after painful step.

Together we enjoyed the view from the top.

Bono, Me, and the Kids

2011-06-07T16:46:00.000-07:00

About a year ago I was going to go to Seattle to see a U2 concert.

Let me tell you more: my youngest son, as a Father's Day gift, purchased tickets that he and I (and two of his siblings) might attend the U2 concert scheduled for June of 2010. I was excited to be included and excited to be with my kids for an event I knew they would love.

Then there was the emergency back surgery. Not mine, but Bono's. He was in the Netherlands and had to have emergency back surgery which resulted in the postponement of the Seattle concert (and several others).

Now, it is a year later. I am just recovering from my own little medical emergency, and the concert is at hand. The four of us drive to Seattle (I am driven by my children!), find what we hope to be legitimate parking and we walk to the stadium dining along the way (sometimes a hot dog has to pass as real food). Along with thousands of others we enter the stadium and are overwhelmed with the size and the stage and the everything else. It is an event and a large event at that.

The warm-up band plays and we enjoy it ... mostly. Then, the road crew begins to rearrange the stage and at 9 p.m. the show begins. We see the band enter, we are on our feet clapping wildly and cheering. They begin to play and we all go nuts and cheer more and clap more and we never sit down.

I can't begin to describe the joy of the evening: joy at being with my kids, the joy of knowing that they were doing something for me that they knew I would like, the joy of them being there and seeing the band play and soaking in the performance that was flawless and awesome. But most of all it was my joy in seeing my kids so enraptured, so entranced, so absorbed in music that spoke to them, that moved them. It brought such a joy to me to be with them, to be part of this experience, to be a part of their lives.

The ER, God's Love and Sludge Suckers

2011-06-07T09:23:00.000-07:00

I never planned on going to the ER last week; but then I suppose that is why they call it an emergency -- you don't really plan on it. Having had a routine procedure that decided to get complicated, I ended up in the ER and then stayed the night at the hospital. Having lost a fair amount of blood I realized that upon my release my normal slate of activities was out of the question.

During this time the building where I live and am the manager, developed a lake in the parking lot because the storm drain became filled with sludge. Tending to be hyper-responsible, I was trying to figure out how to de-sludge the drain knowing that physically I could not (and should not) attempt the task.

That is where the goodness of God and the sludge-sucking truck converged! I was watching out my kitchen window and saw a truck pull up to a nearby drain, the operators got out, attached a bunch of hoses and they began cleaning out a drain on the sidewalk near ours. Eureka! There are people who get paid to suck sludge from drains!

This normally would not be a high point of my day, but when I realized that a.) I shouldn't be doing this and b.) God knew I would worry about it and c.) there are other people who have the equipment and skill to do these things I immediately rejoiced and relaxed and thanked God for this small mercy.

Just to let you know that they agreed to look at my drain and in very short order had it cleaned out and they explained to me how it worked and how to clear it in an emergency and that there really is no way to deal with a full drain other than to have them come now and then and clean it out. Yay for these guys! A small mercy but a great joy!

Live Music; it's Really Alive!

2010-11-17T23:55:00.000-08:00

So, having just come home from a concert, I was asking myself "Why do people go to concerts?" I mean, after all, we can buy the CD's or download the songs and listen to them on our computers or some other more sophisticated sound system.

But listening live, now that is fun! It is a really stupid thing to say, but the music is so alive! The artists have the chance to share their stories, they talk about the music, they play extended versions of the songs and we as an audience get to interact with the artist and interact with the music as they share it with us.

So, after the cost of the ticket, the wait in line, the obnoxious fan, the sticky floor and the sigh at the end of set that seemed too short because I could have stayed all night -- it is fun to listen to the CD but it is great fun to be at the concert and listen, taste, touch and smell the experience.

Red Stitching

2008-06-20T02:35:00.000-07:00

Tonight as I watch the boys from the Triple A team take the field, I see easy, fluid movements: throwing, catching, hitting. The ease of the glove, the knowledge of what to do with the ball when it comes to them. The movement to back up another position, to play a hitter deep, to watch for the bunt. Movements so easy now because they have been practiced and executed thousands of times before, movements that now seem second nature to each man on the field.

Maybe it began with that first game of catch in the backyard. Maybe it began with the smell of the leather glove or the feel of the white cowhide ball, with that bright red stitching. But somewhere it began. The love of baseball.

Pitching and catching with dad became playing on a Little League team: uniforms, bats, cleats and snowcones after the game. Some boys enjoyed the days of Little League and left it at that, but those deeply in love with the game couldn't let it stop there.

The games once or twice a week became weekend tournaments played in cities far from home. The games became try-outs for the high school team, the practices, the games, the playoffs and maybe even the sweetness of a championship. There may have been interest from the big leagues even then -- but maybe it came later as they played college ball. Scouts in the stands, letters of interest from an organization. Where would it lead?

Now, tonight, as they take the field under the lights in this ballpark that is their current home, they do again the things that they know best. And maybe with tonight's game the door may open to that which they have been dreaming of since that first day of wearing the glove and throwing the ball -- the chance to show to everyone what they have learned so well and loved so much.

Wooly Mammoth on the Grill

2008-06-20T02:12:00.000-07:00

As Father's Day rolls around again, the discussion comes to food and I announce that I will grill. Now, on Mother's Day, the goal is to keep mom out of the kitchen -- to keep her from any type of food preparation at all, actually. But, on Father's Day the same does not hold true.

I discussed my intended menu with my wife and she (lovingly) suggests that I don't even need to grill the meat in question, I could cook it in the oven.

Wait a minute! In the oven? It is important for everyone to understand why men choose to cook outdoors on the grill.

Way back when our ancestors were barely surviving, the men would spend the day hunting the food that was essential to the very survival of the clan. They would track beasts all day, plan the perfect attack and then spring into action -- the poor beast was no match for their prowess and their pointed spears.

Now, with supermarkets and butcher shops, what is the modern day man to do? Most men don't spend the day with other guys patiently tracking down the "kill of the day" and grunting with pleasure when it is brought down and divided for all to share. Today, we walk into the market, look at what is ready to cook, pay for it and take it home to put on the grill.

But, it is in that act of starting the fire (alas, the ignition of the propane!) and the sizzling of the meat on the grill, that we feel again, in a small way, that we have provided for the clan. That the children will not go hungry, that our wife will look at us with pride and brag to the other wives about her husband's latest "kill" that was prepared for the family.

Yes, as the smoke rises from the grill, deep inside of me, I feel as if I have survived another harrowing day in this world and we will go to bed with full stomachs and a feeling of contentment in all that has come our way.

Touching the Past

2007-03-08T13:08:00.000-08:00

The mother of a friend passed away and now the house has to be cleaned out. This is no ordinary project because the mother was a writer, poet and collector. Today the friend asked us to come and look through some of the remaining books to see if there were some things that we wanted for ourselves.

I found some books on writing and nice older copy of Roget's Thesaurus and I picked up some older paperback copies of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy as well as a nice copy of The Hobbit. I opened The Hobbit and noticed an old letter postmarked Oxford, England. I thought the envelope would make a great souvenir and almost just tucked it back into the book. Then, I realized that I should pull the letter out just in case it was something important.

I scanned the note and almost passed out! It was a note signed by J.R.R. Tolkien! The ecstasy and the agony! I knew I had to hand it over but I was soooooo reluctant .... I held onto it for a minute and then showed the rightful owner the treasure that she had. She thanked me for the note, kept it (and the copy of The Hobbit) and I left with my other books and trinkets.

I am still trying to understand why this little brush with history was so moving to me ... I guess because I really admire Tolkien's work and have a lot of respect for his gift as a writer. I was connected to him just for a minute ... it was sweet.

The Age of Plastic

2007-03-01T22:48:00.000-08:00

We live in the age of plastic. Not as in credit card plastic, not as in an eon of world history, but in that nearly everything I just put into the dishwasher is made of plastic.

Of course at this stage, with little ones around slam-dunking dinner plates into the kitchen sink, plastic keeps us from replacing everything every other day.

In retrospect the age of plastic will probably be short-lived (though each day is an eternity). We’ll soon move into the age of mixed plastic and ceramic. And who knows, someday we may be able to set the table entirely with china and stemware.

The age of plastic has its own joys: first steps, feeding oneself (not a pretty sight!), first words, and enthusiastic discoveries of life and the world.

Maybe by the age of ceramic some of this joy and wonder will be gone, but I suspect that new discoveries will be part of every age.

So, for now, we enjoy what we have – serving guests with plastic tumblers, loading our vintage plastic-ware into the dishwasher and enjoying the little lives that make it all possible (should I say necessary?).

I love you kids.

Treasure Chests

2007-03-01T15:07:00.000-08:00

Routinely we think of pirates has having treasure chests. Jewels and gold buried and later to be found with the aid of a map marked with an “X” -- I think pirates were not well educated.

Last evening I was watching “Little Women” with my wife and daughter. You may know this great traditional story but I knew almost nothing about it. Anyway, there is a sad time in the story (not to give anything away) and one of the daughters discovers the “treasure chest” of her younger sister. In the chest are articles and stories made up by the girls and preserved by the one sister.

It struck me that though I am not a pirate I have five “treasure chests”. My wife and my four children into whom I have the opportunity and responsibility to "store treasure": People who understand and can possess the riches of a relationship with Christ. People who understand and possess the riches of their family and heritage. People who can understand and possess the riches of their siblings.

These are my treasure chests. I must deposit the treasures. I must cultivate my relationship with them so that they will respect me and love me ... so that they will allow me to share gems and jewels with them and they will treasure it enough to keep it with them forever.

Are my children open to me “depositing gems” into their lives? Have I so injured them (physically or emotionally) that they cannot receive what I desire to give them? Have I caused them to be closed forever to what I know I should do? Will they have any treasures to pass on to their own children? Will they simply be empty chests, devoid of family, heritage, memories and godliness? Worse, will they be filled with the rust of bitterness, hatred and resentment caused by my not doing the things that I must do? What resources am I giving to them?

And the treasure chest of my wife -- I must not overlook the treasures that I impart to her. Do I communicate love and worth to her? Does she hear only criticism? See only unapproving looks? Do I say things that will encourage her? Build her up? Things that impart treasure to her? What "riches" do I impart to her that she can share with others?

Time will tell about the contents of these chests -- the things other people see in their lives, the things that they can share with others. No pirates here ...

Finding Time

2006-04-11T20:00:00.000-07:00

Recently I was sharing a devotional thought from Matthew 26 (Jesus being anointed with oil just prior to the Triumphal Entry) ... looking toward Holy Week I was making the application of giving a precious gift -- a gift of great extravagance -- that could be a picture of God's extravagant gift of salvation to us.

I belive that God impressed on my heart this thought, "Give me a whole day. A day spent in worship by reading My word, praying and singing." I thought that seemed like a great idea -- until I tried to figure out which day! Have you ever tried to set aside an entire day just to give as a gift to God? I haven't found one yet, but I don't want to give up trying. I'll let you know how it goes.

Wrestling with the Necessities

2006-04-11T19:57:00.000-07:00

I am slowly reading through Tozer's book, "The Pursuit of God". I am always wrestling between taking time to read and refresh myself and just doing the next thing that I need to do for work. Since spiritual refreshment is supposed to be part of my job, I shouldn't wrestle with taking the time to immerse myself in the Scriptures or in great books that will nourish my soul.

So, here are some other short quotes from Tozer, "If we would find God amid all the religious externals, then we must first determine to find Him, and then proceed in the way of simplicity ... The man who has God for his treasure has all things in One."

Tozer goes on to write that in the beginning God gave man a world of useful and pleasant things for his delight. But now, with the introduction of sin, " ... those very gifts of God (are) a potential source of ruin to the soul ... Within the human heart "things" have taken over ... God's gifts now take the place of God."

Very thoughtful and powerful words as I think about the things I have and the places they occupy in my life.

The Children of the Burning Heart

2006-03-21T21:17:00.000-08:00

To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul's paradox of love, scorned indeed by the too easily satisfied religionist, but justified in happy experience by the children of the burning heart.

-A. W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God