The following is a true story. It happened just over a year ago and I am not confident I fully understand it even now. What I do clearly understand is that I was given a commission.
It was early in the morning, the sky had just started to become light with the rising sun as I partially woke and rolled myself away from the window. As my body relaxed I fell into what seemed to be a waking dream. I was a soldier being dropped with my team into a desert valley. We landed and exited a helicopter at the edge of what I assumed must have been a village at some point in the past. My eyes blinked and squinted as I attempted to adjust to the blinding brightness of the sun reflecting on the desert sands. Ruins of buildings lay strewn all around partially covered by blowing sand. In the distance I saw the black smoke of burning fires, I knew fighting had only recently ended.
I stepped away from my team and toward an ivory colored article protruding from the sands. All at once I watched myself walk toward the item and reach out to touch it. I observed my movements as if I were watching them from a distance while also experiencing them first hand. My hand went out and as I touched the object I realized what it was...the top of a bone protruding out where a kneecap once was. As my hands closed around the bone my heart was filled with a hopeless heaviness.
"Why?!", I cried in my heart, "So many lives over so many endless decades destroyed for what? What had anyone gained? For this plot of sand men and women lost everything...and what had been gained? It was all lost for nothing.". As the thoughts rolled over my consciousness I could feel more than see the countless bones buried in the sands beneath me. They seemed to stretch for all of space and time. My heart became so heavy with sorrow at the weight of the lives lost that it seemed unbearable. My eyes poured rivers of tears that did nothing to relieve the hopeless feeling building inside me.
"THEY HAVE TO KNOW HOW PRECIOUS THEY ARE!" My body jolted fully awake and while there was perfect stillness in my room it seemed as if I could feel the echoes of that plaintive cry through every cell of my being. It was a pleading and somehow commanding cry. I lay still and allowed the tears to freely fall down the sides of my face into my pillow. "They need to know how precious they are", I thought, "And how can they know if no one will tell them? So tell them."
If you do not know or have not been told. You are a living soul and you are precious. Your value is greater than you may ever know. May the love of G-d pour out on you even now and bless you to know just what you mean to him. May our dry bones come alive.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
On Bridges
I find myself considering of late what it might be like to be a bridge. Have you ever considered the life of a bridge? Most likely you have not and if so, then the bridges you have known of or used have served their purpose. The greatest achievement a bridge could hope for after all, is to be so well trusted and often used that their existence becomes merely an expected extension of the surrounding landscape and therefore no more awe inspiring than the very ground underfoot. Bridges are created to serve the purpose of allowing people to cross what would otherwise be impassable or who's passage would come at great cost. Whether the bridge is made of humble rock and wood or hewn from fine stone or steel intended to stand as a monument to the civilization who constructed it, all bridges serve the same basic purpose of allowing individuals to travel to a location that was otherwise difficult or impossible to reach. What then is so special about a bridge that would make me consider how it might feel? Absolutely nothing...unless you happen to be some of the select few who first wondered at it's ability to safely carry you from the impossible wish into the hoped for reality.
Imagine for a moment with me that it's 7BCE, you're a farmer in the Roman Empire. For generations your family has had to make the arduous yearly journey from your village to the markets of Rome itself. Your family's survival depends on this yearly trip to sell grain to the government of Rome. It's a slow progression that can take several weeks due to the bypass you have to make around one particular canyon carved out of the volcanic rock of the region. Last year Caesar unveiled a stone bridge over the area. You remember seeing it towering above your caravan as you passed by on your last journey, its arches suspended high above your head were like delicate spiderwebs in the rafters of your home. 'Look at those fools up there!', your father had ranted, 'They think they can defy the gods and not be punished? They will see their folly soon enough when they have crashed to the rocks we safely walk on. Better to take the time to walk on solid ground than trust yourself to the vanity of man.' But it had been a year now and the bridge stood strong, even with the Roman legions passing north toward the Rhine. The line of soldiers and equipment was so great it had taken the entire day to cross, but the stones stood strong beneath them as immobile as the cliff sides it clung to. This year the trip would be made more simple, the journey be made shorter by several days. This year you would cross using the bridge. Can you put yourself there? Can you feel the initial trepidation then amazement and wonder of such a structure and what it means?
Compare that sensation to what you feel today when you cross a bridge. Perhaps you have been on an especially beautiful masterpiece of structural engineering and wondered at it's artistry or at the skill of it's builders, but have you ever wondered at the marvel of what that bridge truly meant to you on a personal level? Have you considered in amazement that the simple act of the Brooklyn Bridge existing and reliably standing over decades has allowed for the growth and development of the metropolis that is collectively known as New York City? Have you ever stood in the middle of a bridge and considered that without it's existence you may never see or know what stands on the opposite side? And that even if you did, your interaction with what is on that opposite side would be significantly less than is allowed by the existence of that single structure. Would the San Francisco Bay Area be what it is without the Golden Gate Bridge? Have you ever looked at a bridge and thought, 'Because you are here I can go there.'? I am guessing you haven't and if you are the individual that has, it probably is a singular or rare thought stored deep in the recesses of your mind. And that is a good thing. It means most of the bridges we have experienced have been structurally sound and not caused us to question their stability or their ability to safely allow us to cross. Bridges that do their jobs are doomed to be passed over without a second thought by the vast majority of those who use them.
When I entered the Police Academy I had never before fired anything beyond a small bb gun once as a child. I grew up among farmers and scholars, we didn't hunt or even target practice, my experience with weapons was next to nothing. As we began the section of training on firearms I was pleasantly surprised to find I was a good shot. I did swimmingly well in all of the exercises and found myself having little sympathy for my fellow classmates should they struggle at all. I would think, 'I've never done this before in my life and I'm doing well, how hard can it be?!'. Then we had our first qualification shoots and quickly I found myself with my foot in my mouth. My scores plummeted into the dirt faster than well...at least as fast as a speeding bullet. I was completely dismayed and beside myself with stress. What was wrong?! The harder I tried to focus and do what I knew I could do, the lower my score seemed to be. Thankfully our instructors must have reached out to the firearms team at my department because I received a phone call from one of the firearms instructors. He told me he knew I was having a rough time and our final tests were coming up. To not pass these tests meant to lose my job and not become an officer. He set up a time to meet with me at the range and work with me. He coordinated time on his day off to meet with me and spent several hours on the range giving me individual instruction. He taught me different techniques to use during the test to keep myself calm and focused but most importantly he told me that good shooters having anxiety with the qualification was normal and his job as an instructor was to do everything in his power to give me the tools I needed to overcome my own anxiety and do the job he was confident I had the ability to do. He reassured me that he was with me and supporting me and would work with me as much as needed for me to feel confident. Step by step, through and past every fear lingering inside my psyche...he was my bridge. When the final test came, I was ready for it and passed without a problem. Because someone was willing to take their own time, skills and energy and lay it down over the vast canyon of my fears and concerns allowing me to safely cross over them. I am here in my job that I love today because he was willing to be there for me when I needed help crossing over from who I was into who I have become.
None of us gets anywhere in this life without the love and support of someone who was willing to be our strength in times of trial. Perhaps you would have made it without them, but not at the same rate and ability. Your progress would have been slowed as you would have been bogged down in the vast canyons of life. As literal bridges are necessary for the advancement and development of nations, so figurative bridges are necessary for our own growth. An internal landscape devoid of them is one that denotes a long and arduous journey.
In the battle of Passchendaele during WW1 the amount of shelling combined with a steady rain turned the battlefield into a quagmire of mud and craters so thick and deep that men began to be trapped and pulled into the mire as if in quicksand. If other soldiers attempted to pull them free they would soon slip into the muck and be lost as well. The problem became so prevalent that any ground gained was impassable and small bridges of wood known as 'duck walks' were constructed to allow soldiers to walk above ground without risk of disappearing into the landscape. Some bridges ease a journey, some bridges allow you to safely cross over certain death.
There is one such bridge, laid down as the gift of eternal life over death. Its construction is humble and to cross it requires great faith in the face of every fear, but its foundation is sure.
I am so thankful for those who have been willing to be a bridge for me and hope with all of my heart and soul to be a bridge for others who may need one.
Imagine for a moment with me that it's 7BCE, you're a farmer in the Roman Empire. For generations your family has had to make the arduous yearly journey from your village to the markets of Rome itself. Your family's survival depends on this yearly trip to sell grain to the government of Rome. It's a slow progression that can take several weeks due to the bypass you have to make around one particular canyon carved out of the volcanic rock of the region. Last year Caesar unveiled a stone bridge over the area. You remember seeing it towering above your caravan as you passed by on your last journey, its arches suspended high above your head were like delicate spiderwebs in the rafters of your home. 'Look at those fools up there!', your father had ranted, 'They think they can defy the gods and not be punished? They will see their folly soon enough when they have crashed to the rocks we safely walk on. Better to take the time to walk on solid ground than trust yourself to the vanity of man.' But it had been a year now and the bridge stood strong, even with the Roman legions passing north toward the Rhine. The line of soldiers and equipment was so great it had taken the entire day to cross, but the stones stood strong beneath them as immobile as the cliff sides it clung to. This year the trip would be made more simple, the journey be made shorter by several days. This year you would cross using the bridge. Can you put yourself there? Can you feel the initial trepidation then amazement and wonder of such a structure and what it means?
Compare that sensation to what you feel today when you cross a bridge. Perhaps you have been on an especially beautiful masterpiece of structural engineering and wondered at it's artistry or at the skill of it's builders, but have you ever wondered at the marvel of what that bridge truly meant to you on a personal level? Have you considered in amazement that the simple act of the Brooklyn Bridge existing and reliably standing over decades has allowed for the growth and development of the metropolis that is collectively known as New York City? Have you ever stood in the middle of a bridge and considered that without it's existence you may never see or know what stands on the opposite side? And that even if you did, your interaction with what is on that opposite side would be significantly less than is allowed by the existence of that single structure. Would the San Francisco Bay Area be what it is without the Golden Gate Bridge? Have you ever looked at a bridge and thought, 'Because you are here I can go there.'? I am guessing you haven't and if you are the individual that has, it probably is a singular or rare thought stored deep in the recesses of your mind. And that is a good thing. It means most of the bridges we have experienced have been structurally sound and not caused us to question their stability or their ability to safely allow us to cross. Bridges that do their jobs are doomed to be passed over without a second thought by the vast majority of those who use them.
When I entered the Police Academy I had never before fired anything beyond a small bb gun once as a child. I grew up among farmers and scholars, we didn't hunt or even target practice, my experience with weapons was next to nothing. As we began the section of training on firearms I was pleasantly surprised to find I was a good shot. I did swimmingly well in all of the exercises and found myself having little sympathy for my fellow classmates should they struggle at all. I would think, 'I've never done this before in my life and I'm doing well, how hard can it be?!'. Then we had our first qualification shoots and quickly I found myself with my foot in my mouth. My scores plummeted into the dirt faster than well...at least as fast as a speeding bullet. I was completely dismayed and beside myself with stress. What was wrong?! The harder I tried to focus and do what I knew I could do, the lower my score seemed to be. Thankfully our instructors must have reached out to the firearms team at my department because I received a phone call from one of the firearms instructors. He told me he knew I was having a rough time and our final tests were coming up. To not pass these tests meant to lose my job and not become an officer. He set up a time to meet with me at the range and work with me. He coordinated time on his day off to meet with me and spent several hours on the range giving me individual instruction. He taught me different techniques to use during the test to keep myself calm and focused but most importantly he told me that good shooters having anxiety with the qualification was normal and his job as an instructor was to do everything in his power to give me the tools I needed to overcome my own anxiety and do the job he was confident I had the ability to do. He reassured me that he was with me and supporting me and would work with me as much as needed for me to feel confident. Step by step, through and past every fear lingering inside my psyche...he was my bridge. When the final test came, I was ready for it and passed without a problem. Because someone was willing to take their own time, skills and energy and lay it down over the vast canyon of my fears and concerns allowing me to safely cross over them. I am here in my job that I love today because he was willing to be there for me when I needed help crossing over from who I was into who I have become.
None of us gets anywhere in this life without the love and support of someone who was willing to be our strength in times of trial. Perhaps you would have made it without them, but not at the same rate and ability. Your progress would have been slowed as you would have been bogged down in the vast canyons of life. As literal bridges are necessary for the advancement and development of nations, so figurative bridges are necessary for our own growth. An internal landscape devoid of them is one that denotes a long and arduous journey.
In the battle of Passchendaele during WW1 the amount of shelling combined with a steady rain turned the battlefield into a quagmire of mud and craters so thick and deep that men began to be trapped and pulled into the mire as if in quicksand. If other soldiers attempted to pull them free they would soon slip into the muck and be lost as well. The problem became so prevalent that any ground gained was impassable and small bridges of wood known as 'duck walks' were constructed to allow soldiers to walk above ground without risk of disappearing into the landscape. Some bridges ease a journey, some bridges allow you to safely cross over certain death.
There is one such bridge, laid down as the gift of eternal life over death. Its construction is humble and to cross it requires great faith in the face of every fear, but its foundation is sure.
I am so thankful for those who have been willing to be a bridge for me and hope with all of my heart and soul to be a bridge for others who may need one.
Tuesday, April 10, 2018
On The Eye of The Storm
I am always strengthened by the words of King David's Psalms. This mighty king who was forced to be a man of war, always on the run always in the fray, how he must have ached for any moment of peace. How strong his faith to continually praise his G-d even when rest was not on the horizon. Every time I feel surrounded with trials I go back to Psalm and I find within the sentiments of a king long gone from this earth the echoes of my own pleading heart. As I muse over the power of storms in our lives, I find reassurance in the words of Psalm 71.
A week ago I embarked on a mini adventure. I live in Phoenix, Arizona and most of my immediate family live in Honduras. Two of my brothers and two of my nephews were going to be visiting in Kansas City, Missouri and I had a last minute four day window to visit them. Flight prices were cost prohibitive...but I enjoy a nice long road trip, so with some minor reassurance that I wasn't being totally insane I hopped into my cute little car and drove about 21hrs each way to spend two days with my dear family. The drive was 100% worth it from the first second of hugging just one of my brothers. I would do the drive all over again for that hug alone. But this tale is not about my visit or even about the 21hr drive both ways to make it possible. I just want to share my thoughts during 2.5hrs of it.
As I approached Wichita, KS on Easter Sunday 2018 I found myself driving into the worst winter storm I have ever experienced in my life. (Including blizzards in northern MN) The temperature sat at 27 degrees and the overcast sky began showering down a steady flow of sleet. Thus began the next 2.5hrs of driving through a rotation of sleet, hail, snow and rain. Yes, at 27 degrees somehow rain was also periodically falling. The roadway did not take long to become a platform of slush, ice and snow. Within about fifteen minutes I came across the first of seven accidents, three of which involved multiple vehicles and one of which shut down the freeway in the opposite direction.
For the first half hour or so, I was moderately concerned but expectantly waiting to reach the edge of the storm. The end had to be coming at some point right? As I traveled through the lonely stretches of the Kansas Flint Hills I saw shafts of light falling on the plains south of me and felt comforted that certainly I would come out of the storm shortly. Time and the endless storm ticked away with no relief in sight. No snow plows to clear the road, no major exits to stop and take a breather, just sleet, ice and snow from the heavens and gusts of wind attempting to blow me off of the roadway at every slick spot or curve in the road. By the end of the first hour I felt the tension rising in my shoulders and my anxiety increasing. What was the best thing to do at this point? Should I stop and hope they could clear the road but potentially be trapped with the weather getting worse? Should I press on and risk getting into an accident? Even if it were a minor accident it could take hours to get help in this weather and the middle of nowhere Kansas!! What should I do? What was the best course of action.
About an hour and a half into the storm, still with no sign of the storm letting up, I began to feel frustrated. I was praying for relief wasn't I? How was no relief coming? Not even a few minutes of the precipitation abating...just the steady game of 'what is it now? sleet, snow, rain, no hail!'. The road conditions became worse and I was constantly trying to decide whether to slow to a crawl behind someone forging the way or to risk crossing the icy patch in the center of the roadway to get past them. "I don't understand G-d?!!", I called out to my empty car, "You control all of this, you can make it go away in a moment, why aren't you even giving me a small break. It's so constant and exhausting, why won't you just let me have a break?".
In that moment I thought about the eye of a storm. You know that phrase? The eye of a storm is supposedly that central point in a cyclone where there is somehow calm. "Where is my eye in this storm?", I asked. "I am", He confidently whispered to my heart. "You are", I responded, "You are the eye of my storm. You are right here with me in this very moment, and if that is true then I have no reason to be stressed or afraid. Anything that this seemingly endless storm has to offer, has no power over me when you are here. I choose to believe you are here with me. I choose not to fear whatever this storm brings my way." I felt my body relax and my heart regain it's composure.
The storm didn't end. I was stuck driving through it the entire way into Kansas City. I wasn't magically free from frustration at my circumstances. There were moments in that final hour drive that I became even more stressed, and at one point I had to pause and call my bff Jess and rant about how upset and stressed I felt. I had to constantly remind myself that I was not alone on that road, that my G-d was right there with me and protecting me. It didn't always feel like He was, but I made it safely to my destination.
Sometimes a particularly bad storm feels as though it will never end. Like no matter how much we beg and plead there is no rest to be found. Sometimes storm after storm rolls over our lives crashing like frozen waves across our hearts. Sometimes it doesn't feel like G-d is there with us at all. Just because we are surrounded and our way is grim, does not mean He has left us alone. You know that phrase 'eye of the storm'? Well, there is an aspect of the eye that most people don't realize exists and that is called the 'eyewall'. It is a ring around the eye of the storm that is a literal wall of storms of the highest intensity. That's correct, just outside of the most calm area of a storm exists the most intense and dangerous area of the storm.
Perhaps, just perhaps...when we are wondering where our G-d is as we weather the ceaseless storms of life He is busy running ahead, behind and on all sides...keeping the worst of it all at bay. For you...his precious treasure and beloved child. Perhaps after all, He is just waiting for us to learn to rest in His promise through the storms.
I don't ever do this...but I feel this song fits what my heart wants to say perfectly today.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9B-81mZV5E
Thou, which hast shewed me great and sore troubles, shalt quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again from the depths of the earth. Thou shalt increase my greatness, and comfort me on every side.
Psalm 71:20&21
A week ago I embarked on a mini adventure. I live in Phoenix, Arizona and most of my immediate family live in Honduras. Two of my brothers and two of my nephews were going to be visiting in Kansas City, Missouri and I had a last minute four day window to visit them. Flight prices were cost prohibitive...but I enjoy a nice long road trip, so with some minor reassurance that I wasn't being totally insane I hopped into my cute little car and drove about 21hrs each way to spend two days with my dear family. The drive was 100% worth it from the first second of hugging just one of my brothers. I would do the drive all over again for that hug alone. But this tale is not about my visit or even about the 21hr drive both ways to make it possible. I just want to share my thoughts during 2.5hrs of it.
As I approached Wichita, KS on Easter Sunday 2018 I found myself driving into the worst winter storm I have ever experienced in my life. (Including blizzards in northern MN) The temperature sat at 27 degrees and the overcast sky began showering down a steady flow of sleet. Thus began the next 2.5hrs of driving through a rotation of sleet, hail, snow and rain. Yes, at 27 degrees somehow rain was also periodically falling. The roadway did not take long to become a platform of slush, ice and snow. Within about fifteen minutes I came across the first of seven accidents, three of which involved multiple vehicles and one of which shut down the freeway in the opposite direction.
For the first half hour or so, I was moderately concerned but expectantly waiting to reach the edge of the storm. The end had to be coming at some point right? As I traveled through the lonely stretches of the Kansas Flint Hills I saw shafts of light falling on the plains south of me and felt comforted that certainly I would come out of the storm shortly. Time and the endless storm ticked away with no relief in sight. No snow plows to clear the road, no major exits to stop and take a breather, just sleet, ice and snow from the heavens and gusts of wind attempting to blow me off of the roadway at every slick spot or curve in the road. By the end of the first hour I felt the tension rising in my shoulders and my anxiety increasing. What was the best thing to do at this point? Should I stop and hope they could clear the road but potentially be trapped with the weather getting worse? Should I press on and risk getting into an accident? Even if it were a minor accident it could take hours to get help in this weather and the middle of nowhere Kansas!! What should I do? What was the best course of action.
About an hour and a half into the storm, still with no sign of the storm letting up, I began to feel frustrated. I was praying for relief wasn't I? How was no relief coming? Not even a few minutes of the precipitation abating...just the steady game of 'what is it now? sleet, snow, rain, no hail!'. The road conditions became worse and I was constantly trying to decide whether to slow to a crawl behind someone forging the way or to risk crossing the icy patch in the center of the roadway to get past them. "I don't understand G-d?!!", I called out to my empty car, "You control all of this, you can make it go away in a moment, why aren't you even giving me a small break. It's so constant and exhausting, why won't you just let me have a break?".
In that moment I thought about the eye of a storm. You know that phrase? The eye of a storm is supposedly that central point in a cyclone where there is somehow calm. "Where is my eye in this storm?", I asked. "I am", He confidently whispered to my heart. "You are", I responded, "You are the eye of my storm. You are right here with me in this very moment, and if that is true then I have no reason to be stressed or afraid. Anything that this seemingly endless storm has to offer, has no power over me when you are here. I choose to believe you are here with me. I choose not to fear whatever this storm brings my way." I felt my body relax and my heart regain it's composure.
The storm didn't end. I was stuck driving through it the entire way into Kansas City. I wasn't magically free from frustration at my circumstances. There were moments in that final hour drive that I became even more stressed, and at one point I had to pause and call my bff Jess and rant about how upset and stressed I felt. I had to constantly remind myself that I was not alone on that road, that my G-d was right there with me and protecting me. It didn't always feel like He was, but I made it safely to my destination.
Sometimes a particularly bad storm feels as though it will never end. Like no matter how much we beg and plead there is no rest to be found. Sometimes storm after storm rolls over our lives crashing like frozen waves across our hearts. Sometimes it doesn't feel like G-d is there with us at all. Just because we are surrounded and our way is grim, does not mean He has left us alone. You know that phrase 'eye of the storm'? Well, there is an aspect of the eye that most people don't realize exists and that is called the 'eyewall'. It is a ring around the eye of the storm that is a literal wall of storms of the highest intensity. That's correct, just outside of the most calm area of a storm exists the most intense and dangerous area of the storm.
Perhaps, just perhaps...when we are wondering where our G-d is as we weather the ceaseless storms of life He is busy running ahead, behind and on all sides...keeping the worst of it all at bay. For you...his precious treasure and beloved child. Perhaps after all, He is just waiting for us to learn to rest in His promise through the storms.
I don't ever do this...but I feel this song fits what my heart wants to say perfectly today.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9B-81mZV5E
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