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If, at the beginning of this year, you would have told me all that would happen before it would draw to a close I would have thought you were crazy. There is no way I would have believed you.
Had you told me that on December 24, I’d be vanquished to the guest bedroom of my future in-laws house as my fiancé tried on her wedding dress just on the other side of the door, I would have questioned our friendship. And I probably would have quietly wondered if you should be committed.
The moral of this story, of this year? To be honest, I’m not sure. But I think the lesson I am supposed to learn is that we never know. We never know what our stories will bring. We never know what lies over the next hill, or around that next corner.
I sat in church this evening, and something finally clicked. I think I finally began to understand why. Why we define our very timeline, our history, our years by the birth of One. Why it had to happen.
You see, over the past few months, my life, my heart, my soul have all changed. I’ve discovered a love I didn’t know existed. And it’s because of this love, this amazing gift I’ve been given, that I believe I’m finally beginning to get Christmas.
I am only tasting the type of love that God has for us. But through this gift, through the love that has planted itself in my heart for my fiancé, I’m beginning to taste it. And I’m beginning to understand why a perfect God would love an imperfect people as much as He does.
Why Christmas? What was it all about?
You.
You are the reason for Christmas. You are the reason that a perfect God sent His only Son to live a perfect life. You are the reason that His son died a gruesome death. You are the reason He came.
He loves you. More that you could possibly understand. And this season, more than anything, He wants you to know that you are worth it. You are worth what His son went through. His love for you was so strong that He sent His Son 2000 years ago to die in your place. This Son paid the price for your imperfect life, so you could spend eternity with a perfect Father.
You. You are worth it. And He? He can be trusted.
Whatever happened this year, I urge you to let it go. Because you do not know, and I do not know what lies beyond that next hill, or around that next corner. I do not know what 2012 will write onto our hearts. All I know is that this year, my heart grew to include an amazing woman. A woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. And all I know is that He brought us through this year. And He can be trusted.
I do not know what 2012 will bring.
But I know the Author. I know He loves us. And that, is Christmas. And that is everything
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’m learning that there is little on this earth more rare or precious than the offering of a glimpse of ones heart to another. In that moment of surrendering a portion of who you are to the care of someone else, there is magnificent beauty, there is tremendous purity, there is trust.
Honesty
Part of this surrender means honesty even when it hurts. It means facing my fears. It means having to admit that I’m terrified of becoming my father, that I have self esteem issues, that I am broken and imperfect, blemished and scarred.
It’s exhausting.
But nothing worthwhile comes without cost. And if it’s pain I must face to find the freedom my heart yearns for, then so be it.
In these moments
Moments like this, moments of trust, filled with dreams, moments written with the pen of expectancy on the stationery of hope are the moments that make ordinary lives extraordinary. They’re the moments when unspoken hopes find breath, whispered prayers find their voice and broken dreams find their wings.
These are the moments that make life beautiful, that rewrite our stories and bring clarity to what has already been written.
In these moments when eternity pierces our reality, there is life, hope is birthed, and if we let it, a beauty we’ve never known plants a seed inside of our hearts. And that seed, if nurtured will grow into new stories, stories of lives intertwining together. Stories of new hope, new life, new chapters.
If we let it, that seed writes the story we always wanted but hardly dared to dream about.
Wither/Ascend – Stavesacre:
Watch me fly
Freedom like wings and I will use them
Freedom like wings and I will spread them wide
Watch me fly
Freedom my wings and I will use them
Freedom my wings and I will spread them wide
And rise up
One day my ashes will return to earthly slumber
Spread far and wide across the desert and the sea
Until then I will leave each day in awe and wonder
And look forward to each sunrise
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.
One of my biggest struggles with my faith is the voice I’ve always given God.
I’ve always struggled to understand the tone of Gods voice. I’m guilty of placing Gods word into the tone and delivery method that my father used.
When I did that, God became a stern, aloof, shell of a being that was present physically but absent mentally and emotionally. When I did that, life became empty, devoid of any hope and drained of color, excitement and any and all things that made life beautiful.
Realization
A few nights ago, I read Hebrews 11.
But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.
-Hebrews 11:6 (NKJV)
I’ve heard this verse countless times. And each time, I’ve always imagined my dads voice telling me I had to be diligent, that if I wanted to please God, it was all up to me.
I always interpreted that to mean I could never seek enough.
I knew that if there was no pleasing my earthly father, then why even bother trying to please the Almighty? If I couldn’t be diligent enough in my homework, penmanship, exercise routines or mowing the lawn, how was I ever going to please the Creator of the universe?
My dad’s voice was always what I heard.
That evening something changed. What I read, changed. The voice I heard started to sound less like my father and more like a real Father. I began to hear love when I read:
It’s impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him.
Hebrews 11:6 (Message)
Suddenly it wasn’t about my being good enough, or trying hard enough, or being diligent enough. It wasn’t about me, or what I could do. Suddenly, it was about a Father who cares enough to respond.
Fathers
We know what one looks like when we see him.
We know the hopeful expectation of a childlike heart, faithfully waiting for dad to come home from a long day in battle (or at work).
We know the heart of a true father drops his keys, briefcase and sport-coat at the door, and in a moment he transforms from a fearless slayer of office-dwelling dragons into a cowboy, indian, storm trooper, or fixer of broken bikes and skinned knees.
We know the heart of a true father cannot wait to get home and see his kids.
We know he works not to find his purpose, but to provide for his family. Yes, he gives his all every day, but you don’t see him at his fullest until he’s tackled at the backdoor and in minutes has a grass stain on his trousers. You may see the employee in his office, but you see the man, when he bends over, picks up his son who’s been waiting, seeking his father all afternoon and says
I’ve waited all day to see you. And I am so glad I’m home. I love you. Now, let’s go play!
At that moment, though dad may not realize it, he’s building in the heart of his children the very foundations they will need for the rest of their lives.
And in that moment He is showing his kids the very heart of a true father.
A heart that cares enough to respond to those who wait at the backdoor, to those who seek him.
Passion – Waiting Here for You:
We shortchange ourselves and the lives we could live if we chose to wait for the perfect, when the good enough is staring us in the face.
We won’t dance as often as we should or tell that girl how pretty she looks, we won’t risk as much but we will also see less reward. Our relationships won’t be as deep, friendships won’t be as sincere and love won’t be as strong.
When we chose to wait for the perfect moment instead of capitalizing on the moments given to us, we miss out on drops of beauty that life rains only on those who chose to risk.
This past weekend I witnessed the interweaving of two stories, two lives, into one. Two people who learned the joys of risk, who’ve felt the pain of loss but who didn’t wait for the elusiveness of perfect when love knocked on the door to their hearts.
And now a new story is now being written, one full of hope, of life, and I’ve no doubt that in time, a new family as well.
A new story, not a perfect story, not one without risk, without pain. Not a story that wasn’t at one time bathed in tears, but a new story all the same. One bathed in beauty, wrapped in grace, and filled with dreams coming true and new dreams being birthed in the hearts of those brave enough to not wait for perfect.
This weekend reminded me that finding courage to dream requires action, it requires a guy be aggressive and chase after what he wants, what he dreams of. But most importantly, this weekend reminded me that life comes to those who step out in risk, who share their heart, who are open and who chase after the dreams written on their hearts.
Future of Forestry – Slow Your Breath Down:
Last week I participated in my first group dance lesson followed by my third individual lesson. For the most part, I’ve been so focused on getting things right that although I’ve had fun, I’ve not yet enjoyed dancing.
Last week that changed.
For the first time I was leading, and my dance instructor was allowing me to lead.
Don’t romanticize it, it wasn’t pretty. I’m not that good, yet.
But for those few moments, I tasted something. A part of my heart came alive.
My dance instructor made a comment that I’m still unpacking. She said,
“You’re leading. That’s good. That tells the woman you’re in control, you’re taking care of her and that she can enjoy herself.”
I was thrilled to have gotten the compliment. On the way home though, something told me I missed a deeper truth.
Life was meant to be lived beautifully. We were created for beauty, to find it, search for it and create it. And if dance is symbolic of life, of finding that beauty, of leading and being led, then how much beauty do we miss out on when we refuse to allow Him to lead?
If this woman, who I’ve only just met, could trust me enough to keep her safe on the dance floor, how much more can we trust the Author of our stories? How much more does His heart ache for us to let Him lead? How many times do I refuse His control, and try to do things on my own?
I was reminded of how much He loves us and how much He wants us to trust Him. And in that, if we allow ourselves to trust, we find life. We find the dance.
We find the beauty we’ve always known was there. And we taste and see, that He is good.
If we are honest with ourselves, we all want our stories to reflect one thing, hope. We want our lives to show an unending belief in the fact that life is worth living. We want our history to be a testament of overcoming, of victory.
We want to live on the mountaintop. And we ignore the valley.
Too many of us have bought into that lie, into the stories of endless mountaintop moments, of perfect lives flying above the storms. Too many of us believe that if we were just good enough, we would finally find completion, we would know hope because we would know what we were hoping for.
That isn’t real life.
Last weekend I stumbled across a stack of old postcards lying scattered in a box in the back of an antique shop. As I thumbed through them looking for artwork that would catch my eye, something else made me pause and start over. I began to read the letters, the messages on the back of the cards. There were more than thirty, each dated from the early 1940s. And each one penned by Private Divis, opened with Darling or Dear Sweetheart and was sent to a Ms. Jennie nee Garnik of Chicago, Illinois.
They were love letters, letters of hope.
Sometime in 1944 they were married. They stayed married, to each other, up until Mrs. Jennie Divis’ death in 2007.
Sixty three years of marriage.
I would love to believe that once they were married, they hopped from one mountain peak to another, each more beautiful than the last. But real life tells me that in sixty-three years of marriage, they faced hardship, pain, and the loneliness of the valleys. I would like to tell myself that the young love I heard whispered between the words of each post card carried them through those years, kids, careers and life with a sense of ease, but I know differently.
And so do you.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow, Christianity pauses to remember a moment in time that rewrote our stories. And again, I am tempted to paint this memory, this remembrance with the quiet pastels that permeate this season. But in doing so, the bloody reality of what took place over 2000 years ago is lost. Tomorrow isn’t about bunnies, ducklings and little baby chicks. Tomorrow isn’t just the celebration of life, but of a life lived in sacrificial love. A life lived perfectly, because we were imperfect.
Tomorrow, we remember the death of a Saviour and mans first taste of salvation.
Tomorrow we will read the first of many love letters written to you and I more than a millenia ago.
Promises
And as I sat there and read those postcards, and as I read the story we celebrate tomorrow, I hear the same message. We were never promised lives full of mountain peaks and empty of valleys. We were promised however, that we would never walk this path alone.
We were never promised a life void of pain and heartache, but we were promised that if we followed this Saviour who lived perfectly and died in our stead, we would find our true life, real life, abundant life.
I am following Him, Christ. Because more than anything, that is the life I want. I want to know that one random Saturday in the year 2074, someone will be walking through an antique shop and will find my postcards, love letters, letters of hope to my future wife.
And I pray that they will reflect a hope greater that my own. Not because my story was one filled with the pinnacles of life, but because I have found the life, the One I was hoping for. I found abundant life.
ive been thinking lately, about being thankful.
for the things i have, and in some ways, for the things i dont have.
so many of my friends, people my age, have already settled down. they have a wife, kid(s), dog. they’re already rockin’ the white picket fence american dream. and while part of me wants that, yearns for the evident completeness they’ve found, part of me hungers for something more.
john eldredge describes that unsettledness, that desire for something more as the call of God for us to follow Him. john says “According to the part of the story God has allowed us to see, the Haunting we sense is His calling us forth on a journey.“
i wont begin to pretend i know what this journey is or where it will lead. but i am realizing that it’s not something i’m waiting to start. it’s something i have already begun. and thats something you need to realize too.
this, right here, this moment in time, is part of journey.
st. augustine said that the world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
you are already on your journey. as am i.
and im suddenly realizing that part of me was waiting for something to happen. for someone to come along and give me permission to live life, to chase after my dreams.
i was waiting for something that will never happen.
and if this is true, that right now, im living my story…. if its true that the first pages have been turned, and that the book is already dog-eared, then i need to do everything i can, right now, to live life fully. to explore, fight, become a better me.
i need to learn to love. to walk through the fires before me. to face fears, to dance. i need to learn not just to tread water, but sail.
i need to learn to be thankful for where i am and for where i am going.
yes, eventually, i want what my friends have. i want to look into the eyes of my beloved, my betrothed, my bride, my (eve) and see our stories intertwining as one. i want to see our futures, together. i want to see hope, abundant life, and love ive not known reflected back in those eyes.
i want to see two books, two stories, two, becoming one.
and even if on the horizon of our future lie gray skies full with the promise of storms, i will look forward to the rain, to the thunder, to the tempest. because one day, i wont be sailing alone.
hillsong united – aftermath
what would you do, how differently would you look at life, would you live life if you knew that your heart was the treasure of the kingdom?
thats the question ive been struggling with.
the bible is rather clear about the value of our hearts. Keep vigilant watch over your heart; that’s where life starts proclaims proverbs 4.
all too often, when i read the bible, or when its preached, its done so with a word of caution. a warning. something to heed. it’s almost like we take every verse as a stern thou shalt not! and when we read about this God of abundant life, it never makes sense. we never see it. it never comes to fruition. so we chalk it up to something we have to trudge through ‘by faith’, and we give up on that beautiful life we were meant to live.
but what if that verse wasnt a warning. what if that verse wasnt meant to chastise or correct? but to tell us, show us the value of our hearts? what if the intent was to show us where that abundant life starts?
john eldredge in waking the dead says: “caring for our own hearts isnt selfishness; it’s how we begin to love.
yes, we care for our hearts for the sake of others. does that sound like a contradiction? not at all. what will you bring to others if your heart is empty, dried up, pinned down? love is the point. and you cant love without your heart, and you cant love well unless your heart is well.
when it comes to the whole subject of loving others, you must know this: how you handle your own heart is how you will handle theirs.
and
“what more can be said, what greater case could be made than this: to find God, you must look with all your heart. to remain present to God, you must remain present to your heart. to hear His voice, you must listen with your heart. to love Him, you must love with all your heart. you cannot be the person God meant you to be, and you cannot live the life He meant you to live, unless you live from the heart.”
wow.
what if that verse wasnt meant as a warning? but as a promise? as a road sign? what if its there to tell us that the abundant life He promised, is available? and that its tied to the dreams that were etched on our hearts before we were born?
what if that life is out there? if only we’d take care of our hearts? would i realize that the life i want to see is there? inside of me? and that if i cared for my heart, listened to it, lived from it, that this life would flow out? that id see my dreams come true? would you?
would you realize that life is there? inside of you? etched into your heart by the perfect One? would you realize that there is a reason your heart beats for antiques? or art? or music? or engineering? or dancing? or fashion? or photography? or woodworking?
what if we didnt give up on our dreams? but instead chose to dust them off, pry open the pages of stories long since forgotten and begin to read, again, the words that are etched on our hearts? what then?
what would our lives look like? how would life be different? how much more abundant would life be, if i honestly believed that my heart was a treasure? that abundant life was out there, was available for me?
would it be real? would this abundant life be real? would you see it if you looked at me?
i dont have the answers. but i’m going to challenge myself to find out.
because i believe there is a bigger story out there, bigger than im living. and these echoes we heart in our hearts, the yearning for something more, the ache deep inside that tells us we are not yet complete, they are all telling us that there is more. that we were destined for more. and that our path to this life, begins within our hearts.
your heart was created. by the Creator. with purpose and beauty. a destiny all its own. and you will only find that destiny, that fullness, by following the calling placed on your Heart by the one who traded His life for yours.
so follow Him. find your heart. and live from it.
future of forestry – sanctitatis
