Lone Survivor

Recently, Nancy and I went to see Lone Survivor. It’s based on the true story of Marcus Luttrell, a U.S. Navy SEAL. It’s a gritty, violent, bloody, profanity-smattered movie that U.S. citizens need to watch. We have been so far removed from the war in Afghanistan, few of us have been touched by its cost.

It’s a story about brotherhood, the will to survive and the price of war. But more than anything, this story reminded me how expensive grace can be.

I can’t write much without revealing the story, but will say that grace was extended to a young Afghan. As a result Luttrell and his teammates were exposed to the enemy and very bad things began to happen.

The story reminded me, while grace is freely received, it’s always going to cost the giver.

We need to understand the weightiness of the sacrifice that’s been made for us. The crucifixion was gritty, violent, bloody and probably profanity smattered. I think we're so far removed from the cross, we are rarely touched by the cost.

A price has been paid for you, and it was extremely costly.

But I don’t convey that message to make you feel guilty, live right, buck up, press on, try harder, live better and to stop being such a loser.

Instead, I want you to understand how valuable you are. You are so profoundly loved Christ was willing to expose himself to a gritty, violent, bloody, profanity-smattered death. The Holy willingly submitting to the profane.

He knows your heart and the dark places you allow it to go, where you allow your mind to wander, what you allow your body to do. Seeing you fully in your depravity he points at you and says, “This is the one I’m dying for.”

If you ever wonder if you're worth anything, remember the price that purchased you. 

Grammy Girls

Nancy and I watched the Grammys last night. It’s official, I’m old.

But I love the celebration of music. It is a bizarre thing to see Jay Z dancing to Willy Nelson and beautiful to see Pharrell Williams star struck while performing with Stevie Wonder. The Oscars seem more competitive and snarky, while the Grammys are a celebration of everyone’s gifting.

I wonder if that’s what heaven will be like, a celebration of God’s creativity and the uniqueness of his creation. No one posing or posturing, because we are not the creator, but marveling at the exquisite gifting of each creation.

I think heaven will be like the Grammys, but with accountants, Sunday School teachers and middle managers all with a chance to display how God has wired them. And it will be beautiful.

But one thing bothered me as I put my head on my pillow last night; how many girls, teens and young women are watching this and somehow feeling lesser. How many watched, Beyonce, Taylor Swift and Pink, then cursed themselves for blowing their diet?

How many single moms watched the incessant CoverGirl commercials define beauty all night, knowing if they had the money to buy it, they wouldn't have the energy to put it on? Last night, for hours, women across the country were told, this is what it looks like to be beautiful, sexy, desirable… and you will never measure up.

It’s sad.

Ladies, you are beautiful, a masterpiece designed by the master creator, loved, coveted and longed for. Quit listening to the voices that show up on nights like Grammy night. There is only one voice that matters. It is God’s. You are his. And he has called you beautiful.

Half-Watched Movies

At the beginning of the year, Nancy and I decided we needed to start taking better care of ourselves, eating healthier and joining a gym. It sucks.

After years of neglect, my body isn't quite sure what it is I’m doing. So, it is trying to convince my mind that this was a stupid idea and I should return to my natural state of slothfulness. Any given day, it’s a crapshoot which will win.

We get up early, trying to beat the young stallions to the gym. I’m not interested in looking at rippling mussels when I’m feeling closer to the glue factory than the racetrack.

The gym is shinny and new with a fancy theater. I hide in the theater because the volume covers my panicked gasps for air. And there’s something about the movies that help with the hallucinations.

The problem with going first thing in the morning is I only catch the first hour of movie. You may not realize this, but an hour into a movie life is really starting to suck for the hero.

In his book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Donald Miller talks about what makes a good story and part of it is an obstacle, challenge or hardship the hero has to overcome. Well, the first hour of a good film is all about the obstacle and nothing about the overcoming.

So I keep leaving all of these movies unresolved and full of brokenness.

It occurred to me, we are in the middle of God’s story. When you look around and see the pain, brokenness and chaos, it’s enough to make you wonder if there’s a script at all. But I need to remember, this is the middle of the story.

There will be a day when the story comes to an end, where the painful questions of the journey are answered, where the obstacles are overcome, when we find resolution.

It’s natural to ask questions in the middle of the story and wonder how it will end. The tension is too great to avoid it. Go ahead. Ask the questions. And hope for the day God writes the last line and we all have the joy of seeing the end of the movie. 

You Are Loved.... Seriously

I recently saw this video from John Lynch. In it he explains there are two primary motivations in our relationship with God. “Pleasing God” and “Trusting God.”

The first, full of self effort, leads to exhaustion, frustration and hopelessness. The second leads to grace.

We constantly battle between the two, living in grace, then find ourselves trying to earn it all over again.

It’s easy to believe that Christ died for the whole world. He’s God. We’re his creation. He has to love everybody.

What’s harder to believe is he did it for me.

I think we believe God has this generic love for everyone. We’re told from childhood we’re supposed to love everyone. Our parents tell us, our Sunday school teachers tell us, everybody.

So we say we do. In elementary school we used to say, “I love her in God’s way.” That way you could say you loved somebody without revealing how cute you thought she was. But as we learn to say we love everyone we began to realize something…

There are a lot of people we don’t like.

So if I say I love everybody, but there are people I don’t want to sit with at the lunch table, maybe that’s how God is too. He loves the whole world, Christ died to redeem it, but if it came right down to it, he’d hang out with the cool kids at recess.

What’s worse is we began to learn if we wanted people to love us back we had to act a certain way. If I wanted the cute girl to love me, I had to quit punching her on the playground. Proper behavior had a payoff… acceptance.

This combination of feelings, of God’s “generic love” and earned acceptance, is powerful. They are woven so tightly and deeply inside of us we aren't even aware they impact our motivations.

So we spend our lives, struggling for perfection or pretending we've achieved it, never allowing ourselves to be truly known, because then, everyone would realize we aren't lovable. Heck, God only loves me because he has to.

Listen, it was a profound love that drew Christ to the Cross. Not a love he had for just anybody, it was a love he had for you. You specifically. You in particular. You. And he’d sit at the lunch table with you any day. 

Home Assignment Blues

Nancy and I work to help care for missionaries. One of the ways we try to do that, is helping "senders" understand our experiences. If you have a missionary you care about, here are five dos and don'ts, for when they return for a U.S. visit.

Do: The first week they arrive, write or call to schedule dinner or coffee.
Don’t: Wait until the last week to get in touch.

When the family lands, it’s natural to think, “We have a whole three month’s to get in touch.” Then you get a note saying they’re leaving in five days. That’s when the barrage of contacts comes in saying, “WE HAVE TO GET TOGETHER!” They are packing, making last minute runs to Walmart and squeezing out the final drops of family time. All you’re doing is making them feel guilty for having to tell you, no.

Do: Offer to watch their kids so they can have a night out. 
Don’t: Tell the kids how lucky they are to grow up overseas.

It may surprise you, but… the kids may not agree and now they feel guilty about it. You sell all your toys, leave your friends, move to a place without Cartoon Network, peanut butter and grandparents, then tell me how you like it. Yes there is a richness in the MK experience. There’s a price as well.

Do: Ask them about life in their adopted country… the people, economy, politics.
Don’t: Say you know what it’s like because you've been on three short-term missions.

You don’t know what it’s like to live in a country until you've paid an electric bill. If you have visited their country, it’s OK to talk about places and people you may have in common. It is much better to ask them their thoughts and perceptions.

Do: Ask them about their work, home life and day to day activities.
Don’t: Complain about your husband, talk about your little overachievers, whine about your busy schedule, tell them how lucky they are they don’t have to live with the hectic U.S. life.

They will want to hear your story and will be genuinely interested in your life. Just be sure you allow them some time to process theirs. People need a place to share their story. That’s not a message just for missionaries, it’s a life lesson.

Do: Ask them how their support is doing.
Don’t: Complain the economy is bad and let them know you haven’t had a raise in 2 years.

Missionaries hate asking for money. We hate it. And it’s a part of this weird setup we've been locked into. Be proactive. Ask how their support is and they will feel tremendously cared for. It’s OK if you can’t help. Just say, “We love you and wish we could do more.” Then pray about it with them.

Basically, the biggest gift you can give your missionary is a listening ear. I had lunch with a church missions committee and no one talked to me. It’s hard to return to the U.S. and have no one really interested in your story, especially when it’s the people who pay you.

This is not an exhaustive list. Feel free to add other dos and don'ts in the comment section. What's your story?

Off Road Racing

Over the weekend I saw part of the Lucas Oil Off Road Racing Series. Before the race began, the trucks were muddy with parts already hanging off.

They took off through the mud, over whoops and jumps and around hairpins. They banged into each other, came off jumps that ripped a bumper off, slid and spun and broke axles. One guy had his hood fly up into the windshield and he kept driving, peaking through the one little hole he could see through.

As I watched I thought, “THAT is life!”

We all want life to be a Sunday drive through the country. Big blue skies, with warm sunshine and everyone following the proper traffic patterns. But it’s not.

Life is like off road racing. Even at the beginning, genetics start us out dinged up. Then we take off, flying through ups and downs. There are people who run into us and bang us up even more. Sometimes we flip over, due to our own foolish driving.

Even if we try to run a clean race and avoid conflict, we barrel along slinging mud everywhere. Sometimes we even get hurt by our own teammates.

The difference between life and the race is, when something really breaks, they take the truck off the track. They drag it to the pits, then all the teammates gather to work on it.

For some reason, we don’t do that. Sure navigating life is going to bang us up. We’ll get dented, scrapped and damaged, and we keep going. Sometimes, though, the wheels come off. But instead of asking for help, we sit there with our foot on the accelerator.

We think if we try to press forward and plow ahead everything will be OK. But if things are too broken, you can't. All you'll be is stuck.

Paul talked about running a good race. But even he got stuck and wouldn't walk through an open door of ministry because he didn't have Titus with him.  Only when Titus showed up and encouraged him was he able to move on.

We weren't made to run this race alone. It’s OK to pull off the track from time. Only off the track can we be propped up and get healing from the folks around us. Only off the track, can God take a look under the hood and make adjustments.

Paul was a believer in running a good race. I think he’d like the Lucas Oil Series. 

Missions and my Father-in-law's Barn

I’m from the suburbs of D.C. I married a little girl from rural Indiana. There were 600 kids in my graduating class. She had 84.

Of course this doesn't seem like a big deal to an 18 year old who knows everything… then I stepped into her father’s barn.

Nancy’s dad is a great guy, with a kind heart who can fix most anything. He’d have his neighbor’s tractor up on jacks with the axle pulled off welding something together. The neighbor would stand there chatting, an old friend would stop by and everyone would tell stories, poke fun at each other and laugh.

I stood quietly and tried to laugh at appropriate times.

I never felt belittled or shunned, but I always felt outside. They were never anything but welcoming, but I always left feeling… well… stupid. I had nothing to contribute to the conversation, and couldn't relate to most of what was going on. I could enjoy my time with them and still leave feeling inept.

That’s what it’s like for a missionary or MK returning from the field.

They have spent years, even decades of their lives outside their home culture. When they return, they look and sound like they should belong, they just don’t. You may treat them kindly, but their frame of reference has been so skewed they still feel, “outside.”

You have a story about last year’s Super Bowl; they have a story about the World Cup. You talk about the last elections; they relate it to their last coup. You share how you gave some money to the homeless guy; they see the faces of the kids living in the city dump.

Trying to marry the years of dissimilar experiences and find some point of commonality can leave you feeling… well… stupid.

Connecting with missionaries can be awkward because they all seem a bit, weird. And we are. Don’t let that discourage you. Engage. Ask genuine questions. Listen. Listen. Listen. You may learn some things, and they will leave, feeling like they belong. 

Honey off a Thorn

For the past several years, on Christmas day, my dad would spend time with my mom at the nursing home, where Alzheimer’s keeps her prisoner. Later that evening, he’d fly out to spend time with our family.

This year, he came early. His grandsons needed to leave the 26^th and he wanted to get some time with them and meet our future daughter-in-law.

So, for the first time since Vietnam, 40 years ago, he was away from his bride. These are the decisions he now has to make.

I read a quote in Reader’s Digest years ago that said, “Life is like licking honey off a thorn.” That’s what Christmas was like this year.

There’s a sweetness there. Everyone opening presents, playful banter, the excitement of what would be found in the next box. Eating, laughing, eating, brothers being brothers, eating, talking, eating, lounging, eating. The joy of young adults in the house, the excitement of future plans, the promise of a growing family. A house filled with joy.

At the same time, there’s the prick of loss. It’s not that Mom is gone, she’s just not there. Her presence, her wisdom, her laughter, her touch are all missing. She’s oblivious to the day and what she is missing, 1,600 miles away.

Life moves on and Dad is stuck, bound by a commitment he made to a woman over 50 years ago and a passion for her still today. He’s caught between a longing to be with the “living” and the betrayal of leaving his love on Christmas.

I’m a believer in living life fully, licking off every bit of honey in any given moment. Alzheimer’s makes sure I also feel the scrape of the thorn.