Sunrise

I love to watch the sunrise. There is something about them. They’re beautiful, symbolize new beginnings and the morning air seems cleaner. Maybe I’m weird, but, it occurred to me that the sun is always rising… somewhere.

Since the earth began to spin, the sun has been in a constant state of rising. We can’t see it, because we’re stuck to this planet. For us, it’s a moment and then it’s gone.

But, if you could hover and let the earth revolve underneath you, you could see the sun perpetually on the rise, the colors of the clouds evolving and the day in a constant state of renewal.

But we can’t hover. So the sunrise comes and goes. The noonday sun scorches you and nights are cold and scary. But then comes the sunrise.

Life is the same way. We have periods of renewal and rejuvenation that many times are followed by hard work and harsh circumstances. Then there are long dark nights where we feel isolated, or even abandoned. So we wait for the sunrise.  

Our circumstances are tenuous and fleeting. So if you’re experiencing a sunrise, bask in the warmth and thank God for it.

And when the noonday sun begins to scorch again, or darkness starts to consume you, remember God is there with you. May he help you to wait expectantly for the sun to rise again and for his son to come.

Experiencing Wonder

Nancy and I celebrated our 25th anniversary in Maui this year. One of the things they say is a “must do” is to watch the sunrise from the top of Mt. Haleakala. It’s an amazing volcano rising from sea level to 10,000 feet.

So with great anticipation we drug ourselves out of bed at 3:30 to make the two hour drive in the dark, following all the other tourists who had read the same review we had.

At the top, we bundled up with scarves and gloves, pulled out flashlights and began following the crowds to pick out a spot with a good view.

We found a great place on the rim of the crater with people scattered around us. Some were in groups, many couples, all talking in hushed tones and peering into the gently graying horizon.

Then a lady next to me crowed, “CLIMB UP ON THAT ROCK! NO OVER THERE! YOU’LL GET A BETTER VIEW OVER THERE!” Imagine the voice of Howard’s mom from The Big Bang Theory.

Every sixty seconds or so, she would bark some instructions to her husband who would bark back reasons why he was fine where he was.

It was comical really, how someone could be so unaware of the people around them, of cultural norms, of the moment.

She wasn't a bad lady. As the sun peaked over the clouds and couples tried to take pictures of themselves, she wandered around offering to help them.

She was just unaware, spectacularly unaware, of the wonder of an incredible sunrise. She was so consumed with capturing the perfect picture, she missed the moment.

I had to laugh at the whole thing, but later I wondered; how many moments do I miss because I have a task to accomplish? How many times am I so focused on getting something done, I miss the people who are doing it with me?

How often am I just as comical, missing God’s wonder in the day to day, too consumed with completing the mundane and mediocre? There is wonder all around us. I hope I always remember to take time to put the camera down and experience it.

Justice?

I hate politics. I spent a summer covering congressional hearings for a D.C. radio station and was so disturbed by the process, I have a hard time trusting any politician or party.

What bothers me even more is how many in the church have engaged in the political arena over the past 20+ years. So, it will probably be a rare thing for me to write something here, that comes close to political commentary.

But on my way home the other day I heard this story. Basically, HSBC and Standard Chartered banks are accused of laundering, possibly, billions of dollars for Colombian and Mexican drug cartels as well as violating sanctions against countries like Iran.

Their punishment… admission of guilt and an out of court settlement of $2 billion. No one goes to jail.

The reason this bothers me so much is because of stories like this, which reveal that 60,000 people have been killed in the past six years in the drug war in Mexico.

Take a minute to let that sink in.

Still, I probably wouldn't have blogged about this if I hadn't heard this story a few days later. It’s about an Iraqi man living in the U.S. who sent money to his family back home, about $300,000 over nine years. The move violated U.S. sanctions.  He’s in jail.

Just to be clear, wealthy multinational bank managers knowingly violated the law by helping violent drug gangs clean billions of dollars. No jail time. A small business owner, trying to help his family in Iraq with bills... jail.

I realize the issues are more complicated than they appear, prosecution of the bank managers would be extremely difficult and costly and all the facts may not be revealed in the stories. 

Even so, the disparity of justice is shocking.

It is a dangerous step for a government to accept, what many in the world would call a bribe, to avoid prosecution. It’s sad that we have lost the will to do the right thing, even if it’s hard. 

Hiking

Nancy and I were recently on a hike looking for what was supposed to be a beautiful waterfall. We started out energetic enough. The scenery was beautiful, we felt pretty strong and the destination was supposed to be worth it.

But then the trail just kept going, it started to get drizzly and we wondered if we should turn around and go back. We stopped a couple coming from the other direction and asked if they had made it, to the falls.

They said, “No it’s too far. There’s a river to cross, the water is rising and the streams sound angry. We’re going back.”

We decided to walk a little bit further, but probably turn around at some point soon. Not much further down that trail, we saw another couple and asked if they made it.

They said, “YES! It’s amazing! You have to keep going. It is so beautiful. It’s not too hard for you. You can make it. Keep going.”

The closer we got to the falls, the more we saw people like the second couple. They encouraged us with stories of its beauty and urged us to continue. We never would have gotten there without them. And I’m so glad we did, it was awe-inspiring.

That’s what Nancy and I try to do for our team at Reach Beyond. After 20 years in missions, we've been on the trail for a while and experienced a lot of things. When people are struggling, we've probably been there.

The language, the culture, discouraging people, missing family, marriage struggles, kids in crisis, questioning our call, questioning God are a few of the hard paths we've wandered.

Our job is to say, “Don’t give up. You can make it. It’s hard now, but so worth the trip. You will experience beauty if you keep going.”

Nancy and I certainly haven’t “made it.” We’re just fellow hikers, trying to give others the tools we've found help you in the journey, showing safe places to cross the streams and experiencing the wonder of the journey together.     
 

Shadows

I’m still getting used to the changing seasons. We've been back in the U.S. two years now, so it’s strange to me that I’m still finding some aspects of seasonal changes uncomfortable.

It’s great experiencing the colors of fall, the crisp cool air of winter, the rebirth of spring, even the heat of summer. There’s so much to enjoy about them.

But the thing I’m noticing this year is just how different the winter sun makes everything look. The shadows it casts are so long. Even at noon, the “No Parking” sign outside my window is almost twice as long as the sign itself. It’s just weird.

The shadows of winter remind me of pain in the lives of people around us. Every day we engage with friends, family and the people we work with. Some of those people have had experiences that have cast long shadows across their lives.

It could be an experience from childhood, a foolish choice during adolescence or a broken relationship as an adult. But as we connect with them, we have no idea the impact those experiences have had on them.

Holidays can be especially hard. Many of us are warmed by feelings of love, friends and family. For others the shadows of their past block out the light of the season and they are filled with loneliness, isolation and pain. 

I realize that isn't a very happy Christmas message, but I write it for two reasons. The first is to remind us, if someone is acting like a Grinch, it’s probably for a reason. Take time to hear their story. They don’t hate Christmas; they hate how it makes them feel.

The second is, if this season leaves you feeling more nauseated than nostalgic, there is hope. The Son came to cast the shadows out of your life. I’m not saying that you’ll wake up tomorrow and have a Pollyanna attitude about your past. But there is healing available. There is hope.

I pray that whether you’re happy or horrified by the Christmas season, that you’ll be able to remember who we are celebrating, what he has done for you and how deeply you are loved by an everlasting God.