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A few weeks ago while on my way home in the car with my girlfriend, I confessed something that I do my best to hide.
I confessed one of my greatest fears.
Ten years ago this past week, my life changed. While September 11 had the nation in shock and riveted to their TV sets, our family was disintegrating. And less than three days after our nation was attacked, my family began a journey that would come to define the next decade.
I don’t think we completely understood then what the next ten years would bring. But down deep, I think we knew things would never be the same. I can still remember the day they left. I remember saying goodbye in the parking lot near my job. I remember the tears, the uncertainty, and the determination to make light of a situation that was anything but.
I remember the pain and loneliness that followed. I remember the fear. I remember feeling more alone and abandoned than I knew was possible. And I remember finding places inside I didn’t know could hurt.
I remember waking up knowing I was still alive because the ache was so strong.
The Decade
It’s been a long ten years. I’m not the same person I was then.
None of us are.
And although this past week is a hard reminder of pages written, although this week brings memories of moments that changed our lives forever, there is something new.
There is hope.
There is a grace I now sense, guiding me through the coming days.
On that short car ride, I opened up and shared just a shadow of the pain that began 10 years ago. And I told of my greatest fear, of being left behind again.
I wasn’t laughed at. I wasn’t scolded or corrected. I was accepted. I was prayed for. I was offered something I’ve been praying for, for a long time.
I was offered love.
Promises
Later that evening, I was thinking about this week, and what it would mean.
I don’t profess to hear God audibly, but as I stood in the shower, I broke down. Because I heard Him, clearly, in my heart.
This time will not be like the last.
I was His son. And this was His promise. This was my rainbow.
This was my promise that my family would never have to go through this again. There wouldn’t be any more Thanksgivings at Denny’s, or days spent volunteering at a food pantry just so there would be something on the table that night.
I am His son. And this is His promise.
This time, this decade will not be like the last.
Passion – Healing is in Your Hands
I think we fear that word.
If you’ve lived long enough and loved hard enough, then your story will undoubtedly reflect most. Then there will be a moment when you said goodbye to someone and never thought it would be the last words you’d speak.
My family is still dealing with the shock of an unexpected goodbye.
Donald Miller in his book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years says, “My uncle told a good story with his life, but I think there was such a sadness at his funeral because his story wasn’t finished. If you aren’t telling a good story, nobody thinks you died too soon; they just think you died. But my uncle died too soon.”
Unexpected goodbyes, losing a loved one whose story wasn’t finished rearranges your life, it change your perspective. If the pain is deep enough our view of the world can be so impacted that we begin to fear saying goodbye. We become so aware of the fact that loving caused the pain that we try to minimize that risk. We close our hearts. We stop loving. We decide that the pain was so intense we’d rather live our lives slowly dying inside because we no longer allow anyone in, than open ourselves up to feeling that loss again. And a beautiful life full of color begins to fade.
We protect ourselves, we guard our hearts from all pain. We shut out the risk and because of that, we shut out life, we stop our story.
Hello
Goodbyes aren’t easy because they remind us that life can change unexpectedly, painfully, achingly. We forget that goodbye must follow hello, and it almost always precedes the next hello. If mankind never said goodbye Lewis and Clark would never have pushed west, America would never have been discovered, man would never have set foot on the moon, and I would never have met the lifelong friends I have here in Texas.
Goodbyes may never be easy, but they can be beautiful. When that goodbye is said to someone you love immensely, there is beauty if you know that this person is following her dreams, if you know she is passionately pursuing the next chapter in her story and is stepping out in faith in spite of the questions and the doubt. It will be beautiful because you know that this goodbye will be followed by new hello’s, new stories and new beauty. This goodbye will be followed by pages and pages of a life’s story being written, pages that would never be written otherwise.
When the person you’re saying goodbye to has a beautiful heart and you realize that this goodbye is a necessary part of the creativity that will result in a beautiful life; when you can see the hands of the Master sculptor forming her into a Proverbs 31 woman, goodbye may not be easier, but you see the beauty.
You know that this goodbye may increase the distance between you, and it may be hard. But you know it will deepen your roots and strengthen the bonds between you. You know that for this eagle to soar, she must leave the nest. And because you want her to soar, to become all she can be, because you want the world to see in her what you already do, you say goodbye.
It isn’t easy. It may never be. But it will be worth it.
Choosing love will open spaces of immense beauty and joy for you, but you will be hurt. You already know this. You have retreated from love countless times in your life because of it. We all have. We have been and will be hurt by the loss of loved ones, by what they have done to us and we to them. Even in the bliss of love there is a certain exquisite pain: the pain of too much beauty, of overwhelming magnificence. Further, no matter how perfect a love may be, it is never really satisfied . . . In both joy and pain, love is boundless.
-Gerald May, The Awakened Heart
Goodbye
Sarah – your story is beautiful. Your heart is beautiful. You are beautiful. Go! Step out into your future. Embrace your life. Fill it with love, passion, and creativity. Change the world and be changed in the process. Live a life worthy of the dreams in your heart! Benjamin Franklin said, “Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.” Go, do just that!
I love you!
Future of Forestry – Set Your Sails:
Through the ache this week has brought, in the swirling eddies of pain at the loss my family is feeling, there is a current flowing. Ripples of something much deeper, a truth that I believe my uncle knew or sensed even if he couldn’t put words to it.
He knew how to love. You never questioned your worth in his eyes. Yes, if you were one of his kids or a friend of his kids or anyone under 25 and you did something dangerous or stupid, you would know. But you wouldn’t doubt the heart behind his words or actions.
Yes, he could be impulsive at times. He was a tattooed, beer drinking, Harley riding mans man. And yes he liked pretty waitresses and working on old cars. But you knew where his heart lay. He absolutely loved his kids and his girlfriend.
My uncle may not have been a wordsmith, you wouldn’t catch him throwing clay or putting brush to canvas. But in his own way you never doubted that he loved you, was for you and wanted you to know you mattered.
Lessons Learned
The world needs people whose hearts are fully alive, who chase after their passions and dreams. The world needs people who love what they do and do what they love. And the world needs those who are unashamed and unafraid to tell those they love how much they mean to them.
If there is one lesson I’ve learned this week its this: don’t wait. If you love someone, if they mean something to you, tell them.
Tomorrow, we will remember, we will tell stories. Tomorrow my family gives a final send off to a man who lived life like it was meant to be lived. Tomorrow, in a storm of fireworks and sparklers, surrounded by friends and loved ones we say goodbye.
Thank You
Thank you, Uncle Chuck for modeling who a man was supposed to be. For being a father to your three great kids and the others who considered you a dad.
Thank you for the fireworks, the reminders of how important family is, and for living life fully.
I, we all will miss you. But we are better for knowing you.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow, I will not just say goodbye to a man who meant the world to many. I will also say hello to many who mean the world to me.
And tomorrow, I will make sure they know.
Earlier this week I received an email from a friend that shook me.
We’ve known each other for years and simply fell out of touch. We only reconnected a few weeks ago and as I read her email, my heart broke.
Although I glimpsed only a shadow of what she had fought through, the pain and heartache she endured, I could see clearly that something had changed. There was something new, something that didn’t exist the last time she and I talked.
There was deep hope.
There was this rare, amazing beauty.
There was a strength in her words, tempered steel behind her eyes and in her voice, and a profound confidence in her heart and her God that was beautiful, matchless, and radiant.
And in that, I began to hear the echoes of an ageless truth.
God restores.
As I read and reread the email, I could see it. I could see restoration was there, healing was there. Through the pain and the hell she fought through, the plan was always restoration. Restoration of her heart, of her life and the life of her son.
I will always question why we have to face the battles we do, why horrible things happen to amazing people and why God sometimes seems so distant. But in each battle and in spite of the many questions, I am beginning to see the same truth. The heart of a Father, her Father broken far beyond anything I could ever understand. And through the breaking of His heart, love flows.
A perfect love from a perfect God loving an imperfect person perfectly.
And in that love, restoration. The plan was and is always restoration.
.
Hillsong United – Take Heart
i turned 31 earlier this month. the day after we celebrated a new year and new decade.
amidst the celebrations of the new year, the goodbye’s to the old, the birthday wishes and cards, something never stopped whispering to me. never stopped making its presence known.
in years past, i’ve always tried to write something about the passing of one year and the birth of another. to somehow close out the past 365 days, and greet the first few days of the coming year. this year was different, and honestly i’m not sure why yet.
i stopped today at a gas station to use the restroom. (i know, bear with me). and as i washed my hands my eyes were drawn to the sign we’ve seen in restrooms everywhere, employees must wash hands. i am thankful for those signs, dont get me wrong. but as i stood there, something occurred to me. that sign, those words, are meaningless, if the employees of that establishment dont honor those words with their obedience.
wow.
our health, the safety of our food products, and quite possibly our very lives are dependent on a little sign stuck in the restroom of our favorite restaurants, grocery stores, coffee shops and gas stations. and it’s not the words, for they carry no power, no might, no strength to provide safety or health. it’s in the obedience to those words, that safety is had. that our meals are healthy. that life is good.
im realizing today that it’s not our words that have power, but its the power we give those words, over us and over others, that really matter.
throughout our lives we will have words of blessing spoken over us. and we will also have words designed to wound and tear, thrown at us from every side. and its not the words themselves that matter, but the value we ascribe to those words. when a complete stranger hurls curses, you brush it off. but if a close friend was to do so, the wound would be deep because we give more value to the words of a friend than those from a random passerby.
i wounded a friend friday night. not intentionally. but i did. i hate typing those words. not because i dont like admitting my mistakes, although i dont. but because i hate wounding those i love. i hate when my words, my actions, or lack thereof tell someone i care for deeply that i think less of them, or that i dont care about them. i hate it, because when i’ve wounded someone, it means i could have blessed them. i could have spoken words that brought life, affirmed, and blessed.
so maybe in a way this is me saying goodbye to 2010 and hello to 2011. maybe this is me welcoming 31. and maybe this is me saying i’m sorry in the best way i know how. because the person, the woman i wounded is an amazing creature.
in 2011, i want my words to mean something. i want to my life to lay bare the words that are imprinted on my heart. i want those i love to never question their value. this year, i want my life to point to something bigger than me, something larger than the 9-5, the 2 day weekends and countless cups of coffee.
that little sign in the restroom isnt just a little sign. it’s a marker. it’s an announcement to all who read it that this establishment values its patrons, their health and well being.
you and i? we may only be a passerby, or we may be the close friend. no matter the situation, we will have moments to leave our imprint on those we come in contact with. in 2011, i pray the imprints i leave behind whisper of more, point to freedom, and remind those around me that love waits for them.
Future of Forestry – Speak to Me Gently
you hear it too. you sense it. especially at this time of year. when you slow down, if you let yourself slow down. you can hear it. echoes of something ancient. something wonderful. something that we know is missing, even if we dont know what it is.
its the call to more. to something more than shopping, more than wrapping and more than the exchanging of gifts. if you allowed yourself the time to feel it, to truly hear it, you’d hear it while you wrapped. while you shopped. and especially when you exchanged gifts.
what we miss, what i miss, is the reason for all this effort; for the time spent looking for just the right gift and for the hours spent wrapping presents in something that will only be torn and discarded. in our rush to find that perfect gift, to wrap the present just so we forget that we are incomplete. we forget that tomorrow isn’t just the celebration of a quaint story, but that it’s the celebration of the birth of a King. of the One destined to bring peace. of the One who holds our destinies in His hands.
you were created with the knowing, the understanding deep inside of your being that you were incomplete, that there is more. you were created to hear that call. to instinctively know it. your heart was tuned to resonate when the call sounds.
tomorrow, when you hear that call, be reminded that a loving God sent His only Son to die for our incompleteness. for our failures. for our screw-ups, mistakes and depravity. tomorrow be reminded that One came, lived a sinless life because we had no hope of doing so, and died a horrible death so we wouldnt have to. tomorrow, remember that we are not alone. that God-with-us has come. tomorrow, when you hear that call. pause. give yourself time to respond.
tomorrow, we remember that He came to bring life. abundant life. tomorrow, we remember that there is hope. tomorrow, mercy is new. tomorrow, you are no longer alone. you are no longer incomplete. tomorrow, more begins. your story is not over. the more is here. you were and are called for more. your life is sacred. you were created with a purpose. and the destiny He holds for you is beautiful.
tomorrow is an invitation. an invitation into the life you are being called into. the life of more. tomorrow, when you hear the call, the invitation, respond.
and never look back.
Future of Forestry – The Earth Stood Still
i spent a significant portion of the last week worrying about things i honestly have no control over. and im only now realizing that i’ve been coaching my team at work, to not worry about the things in our profession that we have no control over.
i think we use the word worry, to cover a multitude of deeper questions that we ask ourselves, but rarely, if ever, get uttered out loud.
questions about why certain people get sick. or where the next car payment is going to come from. questions about why someone you love gets laid off, or why he left. how you’ll pay off that credit card, or will she actually get well.
if you’re like me, those questions immediately force us to look inward, we start to question our own worth. our own worthiness. and we question the power, the will of the One we believe set the planet in orbit.
those questions haunt. they keep us up at night. they gnaw on our souls and pick apart our peace. they destroy, bit by tiny bit, the fragile faith that lives inside of us.
when our focus fades from the One who set the stars in the sky, we lose sight of the beauty that is around us. we lose sight of the awe, the amazing, the beautiful and breathtaking. we lose the birdsong in the morning, the sun dappled canopy of trees and the crimson sunset in the evening. when we lose our focus; the challenges we face, the loneliness, the loss, the heartache, become overwhelming. we lose our sense of purpose, our sense of direction, and our reason for being.
when we lose our focus, when we lose sight of the Author of the story we’re living, our hearts grow calloused, and the ancient music flowing through our souls fades. we begin to drown in the very things we were told we would be victorious over. we struggle to breath. we fight for the things that should come easily, and we grasp at the things we’ve been asked to surrender.
when we lose sight of the One who calls the stars by name, we lose our very selves. we lose all of what matters in life.
we lose life.
admitting i need help, doesnt come easily. im stubborn, and probably proud.
ive walked a lot of this past decade alone. not that i didnt have friends and family, but i didnt let them in. i never showed weakness. i rarely let my emotions show. and when given the chance, i choke. i freeze. the questions strangle the words. and the questions tell me i am unworthy. that their friendship is conditional, that if they knew the real me, they’d leave. like my father left. that i am not worthy of the love they so freely offer. so i do what i ‘know’ is coming, and i cut off the relationship before it gets too deep.
and then i wonder, why the loneliness hurts so much.
—
‘Well, Sam!’ he said, ‘What about it? I am leaving the Shire as soon as ever I can – in fact I have made up my mind now not to even wait a day at Crickhollow, if it can be helped.’
‘Very good, sir!’
‘You still mean to come with me?’
‘I do.’
‘It is going to be dangerous, Sam. It is already dangerous. Most likely, neither of us will come back.’
‘If you don’t come back sir, then i shan’t, that’s certain,’ said Sam. ‘Don’t you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon, and if any of those Black Riders try to stop him, they’ll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said.
—
i’m learning that if i ever want to walk free of this pain, it means becoming reacquainted with my heart. it means allowing myself to feel again, even the things that hurt. it means digging deep into the reasons i feel so unworthy, and bringing them to the light.
it means being real with myself, and with those who call me friend.
we were born for community. for friendship. for being there. we were born to walk this life with others. after adam was created, God created (eve) to complete the story. as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another. a cord of three strands is not easily broken.
to hope we get through this life unscathed is a foolish hope. but to hope that we see the beauty that surrounds us, that we hear the song that was written and sung by those who walked these paths before us, to hope that we hear the birds, see the sun dappled trees and the crimson tide of the sunset, to hope that we find beauty in unlikely places, and friends in unlikely people is a real hope. it is a wise hope. it is a hope birthed not in us, but in the Author writing this story.
we will be bruised, wounded, broken. but it needn’t be the end of our story. if we allow ourselves to refocus on the One who has never left our side, if we let go of the things we’ve grasped on to, and learn, again, to breath, we will get through it.
the roads we’re asked to walk may never be easy, they may even be dangerous. but they can be beautiful, if we can find the beauty in the brokenness. there is completion. there is healing, if we’d only believe that this, we, our story, is far from over.
the Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners
-Isaiah 61
mutemath – stall out
racing on a fault line
bracing for a landslide
conscious of everything getting harder
has the race goes underwater
i keep stalling out
i just cant keep up
there’s alarming doubt
am i good enough?
but You keep coming around
to convince me
its still far from over
we are still far
we are still far
we are still far
from over
tonight? tonight my heart is full. and tonight i am challenged.
tonight, i am reminded of things bigger than me. of dreams bigger than the life im currently living. tonight i am reminded that its not that we were called to be perfect, but that we were called to trust.
tonight, i am humbled. by the beauty i see in those close to me, and close to my heart.
tonight, i am reminded again, that life isnt meant to be lived with a focus on the now. but that life was meant to be lived looking forward, looking towards something. tonight, i am reminded that the calling we follow isnt to drown in the patterns and responsibilities of our jobs or slowly fade away in the busyness of the now, but to reflect the love of the One who created the very fabric of time.
tonight, i am reminded of hope.
i am reminded that we walk by faith, and not by sight.
so even when i dont see, i will believe.
that i am not alone. that this isnt all there is. that there is more. and that we, you and i, were called to live in the more. that we were called to passionately follow the God of passionate love. that we were called to see the sunrise, feel the warmth of the ocean breeze, stand in awe of the mountains and sit in silence under the desert sky.
that we were called to love, fiercely.
i will believe that there is a great and wonderful and beautiful story being written, that we are IN this story, and that we would see it as it is.
we will see the beauty, the hope, the greatness and wonder of each day, if only we would believe.
one sonic society – burn
i was thinking a few days ago. thinking about worship, and this thing called love. and i began to understand that part of my apprehension with love in general, is the same reason that there are certain things i just wont do in public.
i wont sing.
i can stand up in front of CEO’s, Presidents, VP’s, Directors, etc. and give a presentation. but sing? i wont even do that in the shower.
why?
because when i do something, i like doing it well. very, very well. and if i cannot do it well, then i do not want to try.
thats a dangerous way to live ones life. living that way means never trying something new. it means never experiencing the sheer joy of laughing at yourself. of making a mess as you try a new recipe. of learning to dance, and quickly realizing you have two left feet, all while making your date wish she’d worn steel toed boots.
its a dangerous way to lives ones life because we werent called to perfection, we were called to trust. and its in the simple obedience, it’s in the simple trust that our best, not the best, will be good enough. its in the trust that we can make a fool of ourself on the dance floor, or sing horribly off-key during karaoke, or cause food critics everywhere to cringe with our most recent creation, that we find life, and a life worth living.
we dont raise our children to believe that unless they’re the best, there is no use in trying. when we were growing up, our refrigerators were not covered in works from Picasso, Rembrandt, Degas or Monet. rather, they were covered with a childs expression of joy. finger paints, crayons, markers and probably the occasional spaghetti sauce stain.
to the trained art critic? junk.
to a parent? priceless.
if we held ourselves to such high expectations on the only relationship that truly matters, we would never approach Him. we would never find the grace and help that He promised, if we never step boldly into His presence. we would never know the intimacy in worship, or the real life saving of a real life Saviour. we would never know the creator of our Hearts, as the One who also holds them in His hands.
we would never understand how much He loved us, how much He loves us, if we never allow ourselves to come close.
and if we dont hold ourselves to such a level of perfection with God, why would we hold ourselves to that level of expectation with our friends and family? why would we avoid them if we cannot have our facade just so? why would we put up a front, when these are the very people who care for us? and we care for?
we dont want that. when we come down to the core of what we’re looking for in our relationships, we want to see the real in each other. we want to be us, and we want to see the real person on the other side of the table.
there is a beauty in the mess. there is grace in getting your toes stepped on. there is freedom, in living life the way we were created to live it.
messily.
at times, disastrously.
but all the time, fully.
future of forestry – this hour
This is the life
The life of huge and small
Forces blind or they guide you to shore
You’re alive and you pour your heart like you should
I know you’d step back and see if you could
Don’t whisper, don’t wait
Sing out this hour
Sing out this restless hour
Sing out, sing out, and let it go
Sing on this time
Sing on this lovely time
Sing on, sing on, and let it go
This is the life
Your soul is just what they seek
You feel the clash but you scarcely can see
Love is alive and is pouring down like a flood
I know you’d step back and see if you could
Don’t whisper, don’t wait
It’s your turn, it’s yours now
You are free, to capture your daylight
you promised that if we lay aside our life, and follow you, that we would find life. and that this life would be abundant.
you promised that the road wouldn’t be easy, but that you’d never leave us.
you promised that the stories we would write in our lives, would be stories of immense beauty, if only we’d give you the pen.
i struggle with that. with giving up, and letting you have control. i dont like trust. and its not that you’re not trustworthy, because you are. it’s that i’m afraid. afraid that if i let you in, let you see the dreams i hold so tightly to my heart, that they wont come true. and the risk of losing these dreams are almost not worth letting you in.
it’s living without the sun, too afraid to go outside. it’s standing in the eventide field, under the stars, yearning for the daylight and settling for the remnants of a day reflected in the moon. always settling for an imitation, a reflection of the thing that gives life. never throwing open the door, casting ones fears to the wind and running headlong into the beautiful daylight.
you said, that if we delight in you. if we find our pleasure in you, in who you are. in your beauty, your holiness, your plans and dreams, your precepts… if we find our life in you, then you would give us the desires of our heart.
i want you.
the life that you offer. for me. for those i love and care about. i want to be a man who emulates you. i want to be the moon, standing over someone else’s night, reflecting your light, life and love into their fields of darkness. i want to live like you lived. to love like you love.
because you loved first.
one sonic society – the greatness of our God
