Glisson

Yesterday I picked up my oldest son from his week at Camp Glisson.  They end the week with a brief celebration where we parents get to listen to our kids sing crazy camp songs and watch a highlight reel of the week's activities.  The celebration ends with all of the counselors holding hands forming a circle around the campers and singing a final song of farewell.  This year tears welled in my eyes as the counselors sang, "I'll be praying for you every morning as I start off the day with the Lord.  I'll be praying that you're walking with Jesus and abiding in his Word."

My tears were brimming with awe and gratitude.  I was overcome by the awe-inspiring grace of a God who didn't simply transform my life he transformed my entire family.  Not only did Jesus alter the course of my life he altered the course of my wife and children.  As the counselors' farewell filled the musty air, I was reminded that my oldest son was five when Jesus began to change my life.  I couldn't help but wonder where we would be today had we not stepped through the doors of Mount Pisgah UMC some eleven years ago. I was filled with an uncontainable gratitude.  How do you say thank you for a new destiny?  How do you say thank you for a new life?  How do you say thank you for a resurrection?

I'm not sure it's possible but I intend to spend my life giving it a try.

Click here for the counselor farewell song.

How Quickly We Forget

I guess what I can't understand is how quickly we forget.  Yesterday I listened to three people I love and respect go full disclosure.  The first, just watched her family go "Jerry Springer" after the death of her mother.  The second is a widowed grandma locked in a custody battle over her young grandson with her drug addicted daughter.  The third is a young man struggling with suicide, self- harm, and his sexual identity.  One of them remarked, "Is there any family out there that isn't dysfunctional?  Why do we spend so much time trying to act like we aren't?"  Another voiced their frustration with our labels especially our Christian labels.

Why can't we remember how jacked up we really are?  Why can't we remember that we are all flawed searching for answers about who we are, why we are here, and what comes next?  From the Hindu, Muslim, and Atheist to the gay, straight, and bi-sexual; we are all born into circumstances for which we have no control.  We all enter the world as fragile infants desperate for nurture, care, and love.  From our first cry to our last breath, we are human.  From Baghdad to Boston, Syria to Singapore, we are human.  From joy to despair, triumph to tragedy, love to hate, we are human.  I guess what I can't understand is how quickly we forget...

The Space Between

In 2010 CNN selected Narayanan Krishnan as one of it Heroes.  Krishnan is an extraordinary individual who willing traded a promising career as a chef to feed the homeless and forgotten in his hometown of Madurai, India (Watch video).  I'm captivated by Krishnan.  He makes love look simple.  He feeds the hungry.  He bathes the filthy.  He touches the untouchable.  There is a beauty in Krishnan's simplicity that awakens within me something long forgotten.  Deep in my bones a memory like a distant echo calls out, "You were made to create not destroy...You were made to give not take...You were made to love not hate."  

How I wish that echo could become the cry of my heart and the work of my hands, but there's a space between.  There's a space between "meant to be" and "want to be;" a space between intention and hope; a space between possibility and promise.  There's a space between and it is me.  Between the echo and my heart, the echo and my hands is a mess, a jumbled complex of ego, pride, and hubris; a debris field of hatred, lust, and selfishness.

People like Krishnan help me navigate the space between.  Their light penetrates the horizon of my darkness.  They illumine and outline the silhouette of what could be.  Their heart is my hope, and my hope is to one day have their heart.