After writing back to back posts about politics and religion, I needed to write about something a little lighter. And football, at least when you aren't writing about the Oakland Raiders' offensive line, is comparatively weightless after tackling Donald Trump and abortion.
So football it is. Ian and Elliott finished up their flag football seasons last Saturday. They played on different teams this year, which made it challenging, especially since both boys wanted me to coach their teams. Working two jobs and training for a marathon - the hardest uncompensated non-job known to man - left little time for practices two nights a week and the Saturday games. But I'm defenseless when it comes to that look in their eyes: "will you coach my team dad?" I was lucky to have some great assistant coaches. One of them was Katie, who made her football coaching debut and helped me and Coach Tommy coach Ian's Blue Devils team. She timed her debut perfectly. Ian's team was full of second and third grade boys. They loved doing what second and third grade boys do: fly around at 100 MPH. Only sometimes and by chance did they fly in the airspace they were supposed to be flying in. Many days Katie recalled superpowers from her classroom teaching days just to keep us located anywhere near the line of scrimmage. Still, I loved coaching this team. We lost the first 5 games we played. The truth is this team was stacked with a lot more fun than experienced and gifted athletes. How experienced and gifted can you really be in the second grade? One thing we did have after those 5 season opening defeats, though, maybe more than any other team out there, we had a deep craving for victory. So when we finally won our first game in week 6, and the boys celebrated like they'd just won Super Bowl LXIV, it was as rewarding as winning gets. Our record may only have been 1-5 after that early morning win, but those kids had long forgotten every agony tied to those 5 defeats. We went on to win another one in our final game and closed the season with a thunderous shout of: BLUE DEVILS!!
With Elliott's Sooners team, the ride was a little different. This team was loaded with experience and some pretty talented football players. We fell behind 19-0 our first game of the season and came back to win. The next week we fell behind 22-0 only to come back and find victory once again. I told the boys after that game their coach is an old man with an aging heart that wouldn't handle many more victories in that fashion. So what did they do, they jumped out to a 30-0 lead the following week, only to get tied and have to fight for our lives to pull that one out in the second half.
From there the season was a downhill slide. We only won one game the rest of the season. That didn't make this team any more disappointing to coach than the Blue Devils. These guys were full of highlight reel plays on offense, they were little pit bulls on defense, and they were smart. It amazed me how we could throw a new play or two in during our once a week 45 minute practices and every one of the boys would remember where they needed to be and what they needed to do several days later. These guys weren't the Oklahoma Sooners, but every Saturday they let Coach Greg and I feel a little bit like Oklahoma coach Bob Stoops. And that was cool. Some Lessons I've Learned From Coaching
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Last week I tuned into the third and final debate of the 2016 presidential campaign. I didn't watch it to inform my upcoming vote. I'd already decided who I was voting for (I'm not with her. But she's the strongest way I can stand against him). I watched for one reason: I was going to be one of the Americans who years from now could say, "I was there when the Commission on Presidential Debates officially merged with and subsequently revived the World Wrestling Federation."
The first two debates left a lot to be desired in terms of identifying where Mr. Trump and Mrs. Clinton stood on policies, but they made one thing undeniable: these two candidates have about as much mutual admiration for one another as Rocky Balboa and Clubber Lang did in Rocky III. So, popcorn and drink in hand, I settled in. Who's going to land the first punch? Who mistakenly thinks I write that in jest? Funny thing, tough. In the midst of unpredictable in its most unpredictable state - the unpredictable happened. Completely removed from the character of the previous two debates, Chris Wallace, the debate moderator, threw the punch heard around the world. He actually opened the debate by asking the candidates about real policies and pressed them for real positions. My popcorn ejected and sprawled across the floor beneath me. The candidates first talked about supreme court appointments. Then about the second amendment. And then came the granddaddy of them all: Chris Wallace said, "Well, let's pick up on another issue which divides you, and the justices that, whoever ends up winning this election appoints, could have a dramatic effect there. That's the issue of abortion. Mr. Trump, you're pro-life. And I want to ask you specifically. Do you want the court, including the justices that you will name, to overturn Roe v. Wade, which includes, in fact, states a woman's right to abortion." When it comes to demonstrating just how polar opposite our two parties stand on issues - their determination to move as far away as they can possibly get from the other party's stance on anything - I do think abortion is the granddaddy of them all. And in abortion, I think you find a perfect example of how passion for an issue can lead people to ultimately forget what the issue really is. So Wallace throws out the abortion prompt. If you want to read word for word the responses both candidates gave, you can read the entire text of the third debate here: (Full transcript: Third 2016 Presidential Debate). But I'll summarize. First - and do read and interpret for yourself - Trump never did answer the question "do you want the court to overturn Roe v. Wade." He said it's his opinion that is what would happen, but even after pushing, he never would answer straight up that's what he wants. This might not be concerning to some on the right who are pro-life. If not, you probably find it easier to dismiss the fact that Trump was once ardently pro-choice. He even hosted fund-raisers for the cause. You might find it easier to dismiss that Trump early in this campaign said women should be punished for abortion only to turn around and they should not. You might find it easier to dismiss that Trump has gone back and forth on his commitment to granting exceptions to abortion laws for rape, incest, and risk to the mother's health. Like back and forth monthly. And you might find it easier to dismiss how enthusiastically Trump applauds what Planned Parenthood does for women, yet clings to the promise to answer the Republican leadership's call to defund them if they don't stop offering abortions. I don't completely fault Trump for his shaky stance. I personally don't think he's been in the pro-life corner long enough to memorize the pro-life lingo he's been coached to offer potential voters. The only area where Trump did offer a strong stance on abortion was with later term partial birth abortions: "If you go with what Hillary is saying, in the ninth month you can take baby and rip the baby out of the womb of the mother just prior to the birth of the baby. Now, you can say that that is okay and Hillary can say that that is okay, but it's not okay with me. Because based on what she is saying and based on where she's going and where she's been, you can take baby and rip the baby out of the womb. In the ninth month. On the final day. And that's not acceptable." So I guess I stand corrected. Trump has memorized at least part of the lingo. I will give Mr. Trump credit for one thing in that particular exchange. It was the only time all night the word "baby" was used. I'll draw on the importance of that in a minute. Trump's response highlighted my growing concern with the Republican party's stance on abortion. It's a stance that really is far more "anti-abortion" than it is "pro-life". Trump was very dramatic in describing the brutality of the act of abortion itself, but never once addressed the often contributing circumstances that lead a mother to make that decision.
Let me be clear. I'm not suggesting any of the reasons above justify abortion. I'm saying Republicans seem to have a far better understanding of abortion procedure than they do for the life forces weighing on the mother facing the abortion choice. They are also the party that is quick to criticize our government for providing assistance to mothers once they've made a pro-life decision and have multiple children they can't afford. It's the party that has a platform that doesn't want kids educated about family planning and counseled on abortion decisions or contraception - fully aware the teens most at risk for abortions won't be getting this education or counsel in their homes - where Republicans suggest they should be receiving it. Policy after policy would seem to suggest Republicans are indeed strongly and consistently against aborting a human life. As for raising, nurturing, rooting for the success of that life outside of the delivery room. Let's just say I see inconsistencies, prejudices, and biases beyond the birth day. By contrast, Hillary Clinton did a great job of presenting the agony a mom goes through when considering an abortion: "You should meet with some of the women I've met with. Women I've known over the course of my life. This is one of the worst possible choices that any woman and her family has to make. " Mrs. Clinton seemed genuinely moved by the emotions a woman most certainly experiences when considering abortion. What Mrs. Clinton didn't address, what Democrats refuse to address, is why this decision is the worst possible choice. So I'll tell you why. No matter what science says about when life "officially" begins. No matter what the constitution says about who has rights and when they "legally" collect them. No matter what a supreme court justice says about a woman's right to choose. And whether you want to call terminating a pregnancy an abortion, murder, or a medical procedure. Everyone knows or should know the following to be a fact. An overwhelming majority of the time, a pregnancy that is not aborted results in the birth of a baby. A baby that becomes a human being that looks and talks and acts like the people in your family, in your office, in your community, in your church, in your school. These uninterrupted pregnancies produce our lifelong relationships, our world's diversity. You know who knows this fact better than anyone? Mom's carrying babies and facing the worst decision of their lives. The Democratic party used to acknowledge this present and future value of life by including words like "rare" and "only when necessary" in their platform when outlining their abortion stance. Today, that language is gone. They fight solely for the woman's right to choose and for her safety when she so chooses abortion. No longer is there any publicly stated concern, regret, or sadness that an opportunity for life had to be denied. They no longer recognize sad consequences can result from what one might suggest is the right choice. Here's the reality - in my eyes. I believe abortion has become a very opportunistic political chess piece. For one set of party leaders it's an opportunity to say "Christians, we're with you" - for the other side - "Women, we have your backs". I say that because the number of abortions has been dropping dramatically over the last decade. But does either side celebrate that trend? No. Democrats refuse to even make it a goal to reduce abortions - so why would they celebrate that trend at the risk of alienating someone who might contemplate an abortion in the future? For Republicans, who do have a goal of reducing the number of abortions, celebrating that trend would risk giving credit to an administration they've publicly bashed for 8 years - and we know that's not going to happen. As for me, I celebrate that trend. I'm pro-life. I believe every pregnancy should have the opportunity to become a walking, talking person. I believe that's God's desire as well. But God's desire is tied to his admiration of a baby, not a law. I believe God counts on us to influence the abortion decision with unconditional love and a pursuit of understanding and compassion, not legislation and supreme court justices. The former leads the world around us to see life as God sees it - beautiful and in his image. It builds a thirst for life, not the termination of it. The latter, well that's politics. Yes, politics can legalize and outlaw. It wins elections and loses them. But in politics, at least it seems to me when it comes to the abortion battle, our passion for the fight often leads us to forget what the fight is all about.
I am a Christian.
A husband. A dad. An American. A Republican. In that order. And being committed to that order has never been more important to me. That order has helped me reach what I once thought would be an unlikely - if not impossible - decision. For the first time ever, when I cast my vote for the president of the United States, I will vote for a democrat. At least that's how they'll count the vote - a vote for Hillary. So be it. I can accept whatever label comes with that. But for what it's worth, I would have never voted for her in a million years if there was any other way to take a stand for my credibility as a Christian, a husband, and a dad. Trust me. I've had friends try to convince me there is another way. They tell me this election's too important to let the failings of one man stand in the way of the Republican Party. Consider the damage a Clinton presidency could do to America, they plead. In other words, just reverse the order of who you are. I wish it was that simple, but it's not. You see, no Republican has ever offered me more hope than Christ has. I can't ignore that. Nor has any country, including America, ever promised me a place to live when my rapidly expiring time here is done. But Christ has. In the darkest and ugliest days of my life, there was no party, country, wife or sons to offer up the miracle I needed. But Christ did. So now I try to find opportunities to share that story. I truly believe everyone can experience the kind of light and hope I've found in Christ. Granted, some don't want it, and that's fine. I try to be sensitive to that. Some don't think they need it; I lived enough of my life believing that as well to understand where they're coming from. But many people go through life, every day, mired in darkness. They long ago gave up on the idea they'll ever see light again. So I try to be light. Many days I fail. But when I get it right, and people see light in me, I point to Christ. What does any of that have to do with me voting for Hillary? A lot. Neither of these candidates will stand in the way of my opportunity to share my story. The bible is filled with stories of Christians who shared the gospel in places and times when they faced far more oppression than they face today. But I strongly and fearfully believe, even though Donald Trump doesn't stand in the way of opportunity, he puts the credibility of my Lord at risk more than any United States president - elected or potential - ever. This risk starts with the reality that one candidate has the backing of some of the most prominent evangelical Christians in America. That candidate is Donald Trump. They've found every reason in the book - even the Good Book - to excuse his laundry list of immoral choices and attitudes. I don't need to outline that list. If you're reading this you're well aware of it. Maybe you've found reason yourself to look beyond his sinful nature in the interest of a bigger picture. You've invoked the get the plank out of your own eye scripture to make sure you don't let his human frailty stand in your way of discerning God's will for our country. I get it. I get it because I'm a flawed human being myself. In fact, my flaws, my countless mistakes and transgressions against other people, they are at the root of the darkness that once nearly suffocated the life right out of me. They are also at the root of the miracle Christ worked in my life. It's the miracle identified in the book of Acts as written below: "And now, brothers, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers. But what God foretold by the mouth of all the prophets, that his Christ would suffer, he thus fulfilled. Repent therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out, that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, and that he may send the Christ appointed for you, Jesus, whom heaven must receive until the time for restoring all the things about which God spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets long ago." (Acts 3: 17-21) My life turned around the day I understood that by handing my sins over to Christ, they would be blotted out. And the hope, the light that flooded my life after I did, it was an indescribable refreshing that's uplifted me ever since. Believe me, it wasn't a one time deal. I've had to repent daily since then. In return Christ has continually refreshed me. It is the cornerstone of the hope I try to share with others who feel weighted down and burden by their own mistakes. This repentance, it's the foundation of the Christian faith. Therefore, it's inexplicable to me how so many Christian leaders have endorsed Donald Trump. It's beyond me why they don't see his opposition to repentance as one of the greatest threats ever to our Christian faith, a roadblock of biblical and eternal proportions to the Christian testimony of salvation. At a faith leadership summit in July of 2015, Frank Luntz asked Donald Trump if he'd ever asked God for forgiveness for his actions. Trump replied: "I am not sure I have. I just go on and try to do a better job from there. I don't think so," he said. "I think if I do something wrong, I think, I just try and make it right. I don't bring God into that picture. I don't." Trump said that while he hasn't asked God for forgiveness, he does participate in Holy Communion. "When I drink my little wine -- which is about the only wine I drink -- and have my little cracker, I guess that is a form of asking for forgiveness, and I do that as often as possible because I feel cleansed," he said. "I think in terms of 'let's go on and let's make it right.'" Some time later in a follow up interview, Trump expanded on his thoughts about repentance: "I try not to make mistakes where I have to ask forgiveness. Why do I have to repent or ask forgiveness if I am not making mistakes? I work hard, I'm an honorable person." One of the main reasons people hesitate to bring God into the picture of making their wrongs right is because doing so implies God is bigger than they are. If you've watched any of Trump's campaign, you may have come to the conclusion I have. Donald Trump doesn't think anyone or anything is bigger than he is. At his convention, after describing his view of a crumbling United States, Trump stated: "I alone can fix it." One of the keys to the joy I feel in my life today is, with more clarity that ever, I understand Jesus is Lord in my life. There is nothing I can fix or achieve without Him. Having a publicly professing Christian leader - backed by publicly professing Christians - who sees no need to drag God into his failings, and has expressed little need to drag Him into the struggles he sees in our country, is one of the riskiest threats to spreading the gospel I've personally witnessed in this country in my lifetime. Andy Crouch, Editorial Director for Christianity Today, put it best: The lordship of Christ places constraints on the way his followers involve themselves, or entangle themselves, with earthly rulers. Enthusiasm for a candidate like Trump gives our neighbors ample reason to doubt that we believe Jesus is Lord. They see that some of us are so self-interested, and so self-protective, that we will ally ourselves with someone who violates all that is sacred to us—in hope, almost certainly a vain hope given his mendacity and record of betrayal, that his rule will save us.
I know many fellow Christians won't support my thoughts. My goal in writing this isn't to gain their support or sway any votes. But I do have two young sons I'm trying to shape. I have a family to lead. In doing both, it's a priority to me that they always know that more than standing for a party, or standing for my country, I stand for Christ. It's nice when I can stand for all of them at the same time, but the bible has warned us over and over; that's a dangerous tight rope to try to walk. For me personally, it's too dangerous.
Again, I'm not with her at all. But the process has left her as the strongest way to stand against him.
As part of presenting a lesson to our youth at church yesterday morning, I was blessed by a conversation with them. More often than not, I leave those gatherings hoping they learned a fraction of what I walk away with.
But we talked about this idea of "our future." How our future isn't a magical destination. Poof, I'm there. It's not a vision or a dream. It is a very real moment in time. Whether 5 minutes from now, or 5 years from now, our future is ALWAYS the sum of the things we do and don't do in our lives. Our choices. Our responses. We are prone to fantasize about the future, imagine it. That's fine. Might even be healthy. But our imaginations and fantasies don't write our future, our choices do. Every single one of them contributes to what our future actually becomes. No vision of the future can override choices made contrary to it. Sometimes I forget how connected the next five minutes of my life are to my future. How important the bottom step of the staircase is to reaching the 2nd floor. I don't know that I always value enough the connection between right now - and the future. In talking with our youth yesterday, I realized the more I generalize and downplay the significance of the choices I make in the next five minutes of my life, the more I put at risk fulfilling the purpose God has written into my life. I believe God has already imagined my future. He has a vision for it. And whether I think he's overbearing about it or not, I know his desire is I live every second of the next five minutes fighting to be in alignment with His vision. He's begging me to know THAT vision is far more glorious than any I can come up with. Maybe you don't fight to be aligned with the God I follow. I get that. But that doesn't make the next five minutes of your life any less influential than mine. That next interaction with a co-worker. Your next Facebook post. The workout you don't feel like doing. The next opportunity to pat your kid on the back. It is not "just" another co-worker or "just" another post or "just" one workout or "just" one pat on the back. They are all very significant steps in writing a future. Yours.
So, the picture above. That's me. I'm roughly 8 miles into the Patrick Henry Half Marathon. The heat index along this country road, completely naked to the morning August sun, was already in the triple digits. Along this lonely stretch the reality began to sink in. Maybe the photographer knew he was capturing it. This is as close to a finish line photo as I'm going to get today. I could feel the chances of me getting to the 10-mile mark under the 2 hour and 18 minutes deadline and allowing me the opportunity to continue on and finish my race escaping me with every laboring step.
Most days successful distance running is all mind over matter. But on this day, my matter was melting all over the back roads of Hanover County, Virginia. As spirited and cool as my mind remained in cheering me on, my body was overheated and hearing none of it. As expected, I arrived at that 10-mile mark 4 minutes late. I was loaded, without the assistance of a forklift, into the back seat of a thankfully air conditioned compact car and driven to the finish line. Talk about a sprint to the finish! Just not the kind I had imagined. Now this wasn't just any race. It had been on my mind for years. (Everyone Looks Sane When You're Crazy Yourself). So coming up short was disappointing. But the disappointment was short-lived. I've come far enough in my always agonizing running journey to know the thrill of this journey is seldom found in the running itself, or even in crossing the finish line. It's discovered through reflections after the fact. When I consider the easiest thing I could have done this day was bail on the heat and call it a perfect day to celebrate the life of air conditioning. And couches. But I didn't bail. The challenge was there, heavily supported by an east coast heat wave, and I said bring it on. I'm a huge Tim Tebow fan. Not so much because of how he lives out his life of faith, as much as I respect him for that, but for his willingness to run head first into challenges. He took a lot of heat recently when he attempted to launch a major league baseball career after having not played the game since high school. But Tebow has lived his life paying little attention to reasons not to do something. He spends little time debating with himself or anyone else whether or not he's capable. No matter what it is. He just goes out and tries to get it done. Time and time again. I think we'll ultimately end up in far more victorious places in our lives when we get out there and tackle something at the risk of getting tackled ourselves, than where we'll end up if we never enter the game at all. For his efforts, Tebow has received little interest from Major League Baseball. In fact, several executives laughed at the idea of him thinking he could play in the big leagues. (He did recently sign a minor league deal). I'm sure he's not where he envisioned he'd be when he took this baseball challenge on. But I'm also sure he wouldn't trade a second of this challenge or the endless list of them he's made a habit of taking on in his life for simply wondering if any of them were possible. In the end, the Patrick Henry Half Marathon tackled me. But nothing can convince me I wasn't victorious. I don't have a medal from the race. Nothing to say I engaged it with a fearless effort. I only have this: I have one more reassurance that not every challenge in life was made to be conquered, but they are all there inviting us to take them on. To fight them with everything we have. And after we've fought enough of them, and we start spending less time in our lives fearing challenges and more time seeking them out, it's then we start marching through life feeling victorious. Medal or not.
Today our boys are starting their second week of school. And today I'm posting their first day of school pictures. You might be thinking, "he's a week behind in life." Up until yesterday that would have been a fair assumption. But sitting in church yesterday morning, listening to Pastor Chad warn us against falling into the ever tempting "routines" of life, I started thinking of these pictures a little differently, and in turn, this post.
Toward the end of the summer I heard a lot of parents - this parent and my wife included - start talking about getting back to the "school routine." I know that routine looks different for all parents, but for us it means slowing down the often spontaneous and dizzying pace of summer, and settling into the more predictable and structured flow of the school calendar. That's not a bad thing. Kids love structure - and probably some education. Parents need time to recover from their bouts with dizziness. But routine has power. A suction of sorts. It can draw us in and carry us along and the next thing we know we're posting last day of school pictures and wondering where the year went. Routine loves to convince us there are no new challenges today, no potential firsts to celebrate, no need to anticipate the unexpected. Routine loathes the unexpected. That was the excitement last week, wasn't it? Isn't that what we captured in those first day of school pictures. Kids headed off to meet new teachers, new friends, new buildings, new subjects, new etc. etc. etc. It was charging the unexpected head on. Dreaming of what the new year holds and imagining all we might do to shape it. So today, I post our boys' first day of school pictures. Not because I'm late, (thanks Chad), but as a reminder that this is a new day and a start to a new week. It comes with all the hope and possibilities that came with the first day of school last week, no matter what Routine tries to tell me. It's easy to forget to set our kids up for the possibility this day holds. The chance they may encounter something magical. That they might be the magic. And celebrate the day's end as if they were. So here's to all kids and their parents starting their second week of school. Or third or fourth. Routine wants us to believe it's just another week. Let's not fall for it.
Our flag has found itself at the center of controversy lately. One by one professional athletes are joining Colin Kaepernick on the stage of his high profile protest of America's national anthem and flag. The controversy started when Kaepernick, during a pre-season NFL game, sat on the bench by himself while the rest of his teammates stood facing the flag during the national anthem. Kaepernick later gave this response when asked about his decision to sit:
"I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color," Kaepernick told NFL Media in an exclusive interview after the game. "To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder." My question was - and remains - if the issue is bigger than football, why water it down with football. Because don't be mistaken, Colin, as a result of your stand, very few people are talking about a country that does indeed continue to oppress black people. They're talking about our military. They're talking about the irony and in some cases hypocrisy of a ten million dollar a year athlete speaking out on oppression. People are lining up to shell out $100 for one of your 49ers jerseys - your jersey sales have skyrocketed from #20 to #1 this past week on the jersey sales list - but joining the fight for social justice, I'm not seeing folks make the same investment there. Many of your fans are supporting you for supporting a cause, but has anyone been inspired to do more for the cause itself? And unless your intention was self-promotion and jersey sales, hasn't this protest gone off course? Protest is a tricky act for high profile athletes. It's too tempting for them to try use their stage and their platform to address social injustices or challenges. Because the reality is very few if any of these challenges are going to be cured by a stage. I would say they demand quite the opposite. They require people to risk comfort and maybe more to step into the teeth of these challenges and fight for change. They need someone to refuse to give up their seat on a bus. They need a relatively unknown preacher to take up her cause. These challenges need fighters, not an NFL quarterback who has nothing to lose but Facebook and Twitter followers protesting a flag. I'm not suggesting Kaepernick and other high profile athletes can't engage in the fight, I'm suggesting they need to be more thoughtful about it. More efficient. Maybe they should follow the lead of one of the highest profile athletes ever. Lebron James quietly worked with his foundation and other community leaders last year to dramatically increase the chances for 1000 young people in his hometown of Akron, Ohio of going to college. (LeBron James, University of Akron pave way for college scholarships for inner-city children). Former Tampa Bay running back Warrick Dunn has quietly helped single parents have their own homes. (Warrick Dunn's Charity Has Gifted 145 Homes to Single-Parent Families) Florida State wide receiver Travis Rudolph walked into a local middle school and noticed a young boy sitting by himself and sat down and ate with him. (Looking Beyond: When Disability Becomes Invisible). Sitting and eating with the fight is always going to be more effective than finding a big stage to talk about it. I've rarely seen fights that start in NFL stadiums go anywhere beyond football. Fights taken to the community, school lunchrooms, and local colleges, they go somewhere. I don't have a problem with Kaepernick protesting the flag. The flag he's protesting offers him that freedom. But the flag has proved time and time again, no amount of protesting will defeat it. Out of the darkest of storms, the flag waves on. Social inequalities, however, have faced their fair share of defeats the past 50 years. Many more need to happen, though. Many more. They are inequalities that leave many of our fellow Americans desperate for our focus on the fight. They know better than many of us that protests like Kaepernick's might raise awareness of their fight, but it does relatively little to help them win it. Last week we headed off to Virginia Beach to celebrate Katie's birthday. Luckily, we got in and out of there before Hermine decided to crash the party - and the oceanside fun of these two guys.Katie had no interest in trading her beach chair for the chance to lay in and gather gritty sand to the various pockets of her swim suit - both inside and out.The approaching storm made the Atlantic a little more adventurous. At times, these little boogie boarders thought they were sledding down the giant waves of Maui.I wondered how giant they imagined that approaching wall of water to be. It's what makes the ocean therapeutic, isn't it. It reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things. It humbles us. Yet, no matter how grand it is, and small we are, we are always invited to share the stage, if only to stretch our imaginations.Katie said we should make it a tradition. We should go to the beach to celebrate everyone in the family's birthdays. Not sure she was considering Ian and Elliott have November and December birthdays. That would at the very least require different beach attire.I'm not sure who ultimately moved more sand this day. Our boys, or the crews readying the beach for the Labor Day weekend American Music Festival.After we all stuffed ourselves with a birthday dinner and dessert, the family thought it would be a good idea to rent this bike and pedal the length of the boardwalk. I thought it was a good idea, too. Right up until I discovered Katie and I were the only ones who could reach the pedals, and even Katie required some uncomfortable positioning to do so. The boys thought it was a fun ride. Katie and I nearly died making it so, and decided it was easily the worst investment of our lives. So much so I had to concede even Fritz was a better investment.The beach trip was a great overnighter. It was the perfect way to celebrate Katie's birthday and say so long to the summer of 2016. With every goodbye comes a hello:
Back to School 2016
When I got home with the breakfast I'd set out for, my wife asked me what took so long. I told her about the runners and their sweat and the looks of near death experiences they carried with them. She asked me what I thought they were doing. Since we lived so close to the local college, I told her I thought it was possible they'd been forced into a hazing gone terribly wrong. Most of the runners looked to be older than college students, though, so I ruled that out.
My wife, never one to be left wondering, began doing some research. Within seconds she informed me it was a road race and what I'd witnessed was the finish of the Patrick Henry Half Marathon. I wasn't a running expert, but I knew a marathon was 26+ miles. Some quick math and I realized I'd encountered people nearing the end of running 13 miles in weather that kept even the ice cream man barricaded inside his house. I lost myself in the lunacy of it all for a moment and then confidently declared to my wife: "those people are crazy." But that was then and this is now. And what I'm here to declare now is nothing makes the world seem instantly sane more than your own dalliance with insanity. Because this Saturday, 8 years later, I'll be running by the entrance of our neighborhood in the Patrick Henry Half Marathon myself. My real life version of be careful who you call crazy lest you become crazy yourself. And a note in advance to the poor souls who will undoubtedly be held up by our friendly law enforcement personnel in order that I might pass slowly and safely by: put a good audio book in. You're going to be there awhile. Through it all, I've come to realize this is a part of a greater plan. Yes, it's part of a training plan to get me ready for my first full marathon this November. And yes, it's part of a plan to collect half-marathon medals from across the country. (This will be my 4th, albeit from hardly a remote part of the country). More than both of those motivations, though, I've come to honor these races as part of God's plan. Believe me, there is no other reasonable explanation for me to spend a scorching late August Saturday morning hoofing my 230 pound frame around the hot and hilly back roads of Hanover County, Virginia. Absolutely none. But 2 1/2 years ago now, a young runner in our community, Meg Cross Menzies, was killed by a drunk driver. Her young life was taken just as she'd begun to fully enjoy the riches of being a Christian mom of 3 young children. Additionally, she'd begun reaching her full potential as an accomplished runner. (She was on a training run for the Boston Marathon when she was struck and killed). In the aftermath of her death, runners from around the world began running to honor her memory. Today, some 31 months later, they remain as committed as ever to keeping her loving legacy and running career alive as they run under the banner of Megsmiles. So I do my part. I run for Meg because Meg ran for Him. Every step for her is a step for our Father - every draining mile a chance to become more firm in my stand for the promise that when we live our lives faithful to God's call, our lives live on. Both on this earth and beyond. So this Saturday, Meg, what I once saw as crazy - I now see as sane. What was once inconvenient, I now see as opportunity. Although I and all others associated with Megsmiles would trade that opportunity for Meg's family to have her back, I'm grateful that through Meg we've gotten just a little better at finding the good in ourselves, and collectively sharing it with the world.
Last week I received a phone call that stalled my heart and revived it at the same time.
I was eating dinner with my two sons. We were laughing hysterically as the boys blasted one perfectly timed bad table manner after another from various openings in their little bodies. When mama eats dinner with us, these bursts of humor are always and rightfully considered ill-timed, so I'm sure our prison break mentality only fueled the raucous. I confess, I'm a sucker for the boys' laughter. Those laughs that hijack every second into time until I've long forgotten where they started. They suck every ounce of love I have for those boys inside out until I end up blurting out, "do you guys know how much I love you?" The boys always give me my moment. They pause and acknowledge that they do know, then get right back to another ill-timed piece of comedy. We'd barely exited this scene this particular evening when my phone rang. The screen lit up with the name of a buddy I hadn't talked to in some time. We'd spent a year or so working together several years ago, but hadn't kept in touch. We always had fun together, so I was excited to see his name. So much so that I skipped the normal greetings and answered the call with a boisterous "hey, where have you been hiding buddy?" There are cues in life: cues it's about to rain, cues one could afford to lose a few pounds, and cues that a friend's life has been tragically upended. My buddy's unexpected muffled and tearful response to my greeting made it sadly clear - I was receiving one of those latter clues. Through sobs and intermittent cries that life was suddenly unbearable, my friend told me his 8 year old son died that day. He'd been battling strep throat like so many other kids do, but then unexpectedly died from it, a tragically rare ending to a kid strep throat story. In one sentence my friend went from telling me about racing home from work to find his only son's body cold and lifeless on a couch to proudly describing that same son's first home run during the last game and last at-bat of the recent baseball season. I felt his struggle to describe his son's life in a tense that horrifies this dad to imagine: past tense. Then my friend answered a question I never thought to ask myself, really, until several hours after that call. In his moment of despair, a despair I couldn't possibly be expected to have comfort or answers for, why on earth did this friend I'd spoken to only a few times the last several years call me? My friend unknowingly answered that question when, after painfully releasing what had happened to his son, he said, "I'm calling you because I know how much you love God and how much you love your boys." Several hours later, the magnitude of that hit me. Personally, those words were encouraging. If I can write the words that go on my tombstone, I will write them to say "he loved God, he loved his family." In that order. Nothing more. But the more I reflected on his words, the more I realized my love for my God and family isn't just personal. In fact, considering what loving God does for me personally may be the worst place to start when considering the value of my love for God. It may actually reduce my desire to seek to love God stronger and more openly each and every day. In the bible, when Jesus was pressed to offer the greatest of the commandments, without hesitation he commanded us to love God.
Jesus replied: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.
(Matthew 22: 37-38)
Over the years, I've considered the possibility that to many non-Christians, and likely many Christians as well - to include this one - this command can be off-putting. What kind of father would order his kids to love him? Thankfully, I've loved God long enough to realize all he's done throughout my life to demonstrate his love for me and loving him back is a natural response. Much like I hope our boys have a natural response of love for their dad. But I get that's not the case for everyone.
But maybe this command to love God isn't all about God's needs or desires at all. Maybe God, in his divine wisdom, knows that our loving him is the foundation for him to show how much he loves the people around us. In the immediate aftermath of my friend's life turning horrifically upside down, he was a drowning man frantically reaching in all directions for a life preserver. And there's a gulf of sadness in the difference between drowning in a swimming pool and drowning in the sadness of losing a son. The life preserver he reached for, the only one he could imagine keeping him afloat, was God. Not God the theory or God the superstition, but the God who physically loves someone out of the darkest days of their lives. God doesn't need us to love him for him. God needs us to love him because when his people are hurting and suffering, he needs them to know exactly where to turn. When we have medical emergencies, we know to dial 911. When people know we love God, we allow ourselves to be the 911 that instantly connects them to God's comfort and grace. As a Christian, it's easy to get caught up in the challenge of defining and defending God and lose sight of the importance of simply loving God. I'm not sure what value there is in the people around us knowing what God looks like if they don't know what it looks like to love him. I continue to pray God's love will comfort my friend and his family. I pray their little boy is homering at every at bat on heaven's field of dreams. And I pray that God will continue to help me understand that he doesn't need me to love him, but the people around me just might. |