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Distance brings clarity…

I heard that statement recently and the more I think about it…the more truth I find in its simplicity. Often times our days are so full of activities and other distractions that our lives become a blur. Our days become one continuous stream of activity, to-do lists, and we are subjected to a constant barrage of information we have rarely asked for or need.

However, what I have discovered in the short time I have been here in Guatemala is the beauty of the space that exists when those things are absent. I am learning what to do when I don’t have internet. I am learning how to live without a phone or mail. I am learning how to exist without a car. I am learning how to live without having access to a TV to watch sports and my goofy reality TV shows. I am learning how to listen to people talk and not understand the words they are saying, yet understand the meaning behind the words. I am separated from what I have known and what has been familiar…yet I am beginning to see clearly.

I mean this figuratively and literally! I wear glasses when I am home in order to drive and to see anything over 5’ away. However, since I have been here in Guatemala, I have not needed to wear them. I can see perfectly! I am also beginning to hear the voice of my heart. I know it sounds weird, but being able to walk to school each morning is a wonderful 20 minute way to begin my day. I look around at the people, the flowers, the buildings, and of course the volcanos that surround the city. I hear the birds chirping, the “chicken buses” roaring past and I feel the cool breeze on my face. I hear the faint voice of my heart speaking to me in a way that I can’t describe. This is sacred time and I cherish it.

I never had these experiences before and I am beginning to understand why. I believe it is only when we can look at our lives from a distance that we really can determine if we are living the life we truly want to live. I believe I finally am. Distance brings clarity…and for the first time in a very long time…I can see 20/20.

Buenos Dias!

It sure seems a little different not having a whole bunch of people around…different…not bad! 🙂 Seriously though…what I am finding different is that there is a “rhythm” of daily life here that I need to figure out and how I can join in. It is much different than when we are here with teams and are the center of attention. Oscar has his daily routine as does Amy and Diego and I don’t want to interrupt that.

The mornings here are the best, sunny and all the sounds that I love…dogs barking, bus sounds, weird birds and roosters combine into a wonderful tranquil symphony and even the sound of hand clippers and rakes on concrete as Don Tohitto and his accomplice clip and rake Oscar’s yard by hand…even in the rain. But by noon, the clouds roll in and it is a totally different story. It rained so hard on Monday that it sounded like a fire hose was turned on. Then by evening, it’s cool and calm once again. Our having dinner at about 6:30 and in bed by 7:00 seems to be the way of life…and not a bad one either.

My first day started by having coffee with Amy as she sat in her chair looking out at the backyard. She is reading a devotional by Charles Swindoll. She said that Annie may have some job opportunities for me in Antigua. One, at the chocolate shop (Fernando’s) and the other at the coffee plantation. That is awesome and I’m going to follow up on both. The rest of the morning was spent driving around with Diego to several of his ongoing job sites. It’s good to see him in construction again…that is his sweet spot. I got passed off to Oscar at about noon and we ran errands…Pricesmart (not affiliated with Costco), the bank, the water store, and the local market. I can tell that he is ready for me to get behind the wheel and become the “errand boy” because he was challenging me with which turn to take to get to and fro. I did pretty well…even without the GPS. That is fine…I’m looking forward to helping them any way I can.

Once the rains rolled in…we pretty much shut down until dinner. I spent some time making the casita a little more like home. Amy got me a small table, chair, and lamp. So now I can have a place to sit and work on the computer without having to sit on the bed. I love it and it really feels like home.

Oscar had a lightning strike hit his property recently and it affected several of his electronics. Like Diego’s apple TV, Oscar’s wifi and computer and some other stuff. So we are having to work with getting all of that back online and working. Just another day….

Well, that’s about it so far. I think I’m really starting to loosen up…well…starting….!

Photo Credit: John Clare. Flickr. Lemur Leaf Frog. No changes were made.

The premise is that if a frog is placed in boiling water, it will jump out, but if it is placed in water that is slowly heated, it will not perceive the danger, not jump out and will be ultimately cooked to death. The story is often used as a metaphor for our inability or unwillingness to react to threats or harmful conditions that occur gradually over time.

Like the frog, so many of my friends are in water that is slowly being heated. They are struggling with problems… family problems, problems getting along with co-workers, problems with health… and many of those people are Christians! I understand the problems…I don’t understand the extended struggle. Jesus said that “in this world, you will have difficulties.” Being a Christian does not give us a free pass away from difficulties, but what we DO have is a better way to deal with them…

We are to pray, then we are to focus on what we can and should do…and then do it…then we are to turn the rest of it over to God.

That’s it…every problem…every situation…same remedy.

So why don’t we do that?

1. I think many of us love God…but deep down…we don’t trust that He will work in our favor…or in our timeframe.
2. I think there is a certain sense of pride that comes with having to “deal” with stuff…laboring brings a certain sense of self-worth.
3. I think we know what we need to do to get out of our problems…but we imagine it to be far scarier or more painful than our current condition…so we stay put.

What we fail to realize is…

1. God can be trusted. Think back on your life…has God ever told you to do something and you are worse off because of it?
2. We miss out on “peace.” I think having a peaceful heart is one of the most underrated conditions we have as humans. Peace reminds us that everything is just as it should be. Peace tells us…someone else can… and will take care of me. Peace reminds us we are not God, …nor should we try to be.
3. Sometimes we are a “stiff-necked people.” We know what to do…but we just don’t do it because what we “imagine” we will have to experience. We think about the future and in our mind…it is scary, painful, and uncomfortable and that “picture” has less than a 10% chance of really happening anyway. Yet…it is enough to stop us from moving forward, growing closer to God and being happy…we CHOOSE not to move.

What this reminds me of is…God is extremely patient with us.

1. He will love us enough to allow us to wallow in our own “stuff” for an extended period of time.
2. He will listen to us say how much we love Him but understands that we don’t really trust Him.
3. He will be there for us when we finally DO turn to Him and He will welcome us with open arms.

But in the meantime…many of us will just continue to struggle, kick and complain…

Go figure…

I want to be like the moon!

The moon has no light of its own. The only way we can see it is when it reflects the light of the sun.

The moon has its greatest power when it is full. When it is in perfect alignment with both the earth and the sun. When this happens, its beauty is fully appreciated by those on earth and its influence can be seen by the pull of the tides of the ocean and some people believe their own emotions are affected by the full moon.

Without the sun, the moon is nothing more to us than a lifeless cold rock that drifts alone in space 241,821 miles away. But by reflecting the sun, it becomes something of beauty and something that can sometimes take our breath away.

Yep…I want to be like the moon…but if and only if…I can reflect the light of the sun.

It was 1977 in Charleston, SC. I was a freshman…a “knob” attending The Military College of South Carolina…or better known as The Citadel. I had been recruited to play quarterback and had moved up in the depth chart from 11th string quarterback to 2nd string quarterback just one week before our first game. Being part of the football team relieved me from much of the physical hazing that the rest of my classmates were enduring while I was at practice. However, from my vantage point, I was getting all I could handle in practice.

It happened to be my 18th birthday in early September of 1977. We had our last scrimmage before our first game. As I took the snap and executed an option play, the moment that I flicked the ball to my running back, my left palm was caught between two helmets that simultaneously sandwiched my palm and crushed the bones in my throwing hand…as well as my dreams.

Leaving the infirmary with a fresh cast on my left hand, I stopped by the post office on campus to pick up a birthday “care package” from my Mom. I knew it had to be something good and I rushed into the barracks and began the process of getting to my room.

The process for a “knob” to get to their room was no easy feat. We were required to double time around the perimeter of the barracks running only in two tile widths of the area to one of four corners of the square barracks that marked our company staircase. Once at the bottom of the staircase, we were required to give ourselves a “shirt-tuck” which meant tightening our shirt both front and back. Then, if any upperclassmen were on the stairs, we had to request permission of that upperclassman to use the stairs. Silly…but required.

The problem was that the rooms for the knobs were on the fourth floor of the barracks and getting to your room required having to run through a gauntlet of upperclassmen…and upperclassmen with nothing to do…were very dangerous.

Well, here I come with a broken hand, broken dreams, and a box of goodies from my Mom and all I’m thinking about is getting to my room. Then it happens…the upperclassmen see the box….and they know by instinct that boxes carried by knobs most likely mean…food.

I am confronted by a group of upperclassmen and am forced to open the box from my Mom. It contains a birthday card and a box of homemade chocolate chip cookies….contraband for knobs…a dream come true for hungry upperclassmen!

One of the upperclassmen that confront me is Mr. Kipphut. He is one of many, but he takes my box of cookies and reminds me of the fact that knobs are not supposed to have “contraband” in the barracks and he and his friends are going to help me out. So they all take my cookies and leave one for me. However, the one they leave me is crushed into crumbs and placed on the ground of the tiled walkway. It is there that they demand that I do push-ups for violating the contraband policy. Since I have a broken hand, I am forced to do one-armed push-ups which they have no sympathy for. Each time I go down for a push-up…I am allowed to eat a bite of the cookie crumbs that are on the ground and then I return back to the up position and sound off “one sir.” This goes one on 15 more times and then I am allowed to go to my room.

Happy 18th birthday to me…

Fast forward 38 years….and I attend a Citadel alumni function in Plano, TX. I walk in and one of the first people I see is my “old friend Mr. Kipphut.” By now his name is Mark. We exchange greetings and begin a warm and friendly exchange as we both begin to unpack the years that have gone by for each of us.

We both attended a recent alumni event and I shared with “Mark” the events of that fateful day in 1977 and the impact that it had on me. Mark was moved…however, I didn’t realize how much until today…

Today, I had lunch with Mark. We had agreed that we would get together and have lunch and today was the day. We both arrived at the restaurant at the same time and as I waited for Mark to get to the door, I noticed a box in his hand… He met me and said, here…these are for you… It was a box of chocolate chip cookies.

I cannot begin to explain how much this simple gesture meant to me. I was pretty much stunned when he gave them to me and it wasn’t until after our lunch and I was driving away that the story of our past became so vivid…again.

What a guy…to take the initiative to “right” a “wrong” that happened so long ago. What a guy… that would feel like this was an important thing to do…

Well, it was….and as I sat in front of my TV tonight…I opened that box of cookies….and they were the best tasting things I think I’ve ever enjoyed.

38-year-old cookies are the best…not because of the cookie…but because the man behind the cookie… is now… my friend.

It’s hard to believe that in 60 days I’ll be sitting in the airport with a one-way ticket to Guatemala!

Why am I going? Good question…

I think God has been moving me. When I step back and look at my life, I can see a significant shift that has taken place in me over the past decade. I’ve become a Christian, I got baptized, I began working mission trips into my regular life schedule, I started seminary, I left my 30 construction career and lucrative salary to become 100% dependant on God and the generous donations of my supporters…and now I’m moving to Guatemala.

When I think about it…it all makes sense. I think God has been preparing me to do the “real work.” It all made sense when I heard pastor Andy Stanley say recently,

“Holy hands are dirty hands.”

Years ago, when I thought of the word “Holy”, the thought would be accompanied by a sense of things that were clean, bright, and neat and often separated from other things. Just as one thinks of God in the Old Testament residing in the Holy of Holies, and the actions of the Pharisee and Sadducees in the Bible worrying about being exposed to someone who was “unclean.” They went to extreme measures to remain “clean and holy.”

When I thought about it, I had evidently carried this belief forward and was practicing it in my life and ministry to some extent. I was working in ministry…but from afar…my hands were clean.

My new perspective is quite different. I now realize that my version of “holy” was not missional…nor biblical. Missional work requires one to “get their hands dirty.” One must get out into the community and alongside those that they are trying to reach and help. It’s not easy and it cannot be accomplished from afar. One must engage.

That is what God did…He sent His Son to live with us...He engaged.

But why go to Guatemala?

I believe our God is a sending God and we are to go and be a part of those communities we intend to reach. It is in this engagement and through acts of service and love that we become holy and then become useful tools to God. I don’t exactly know why God has called me to Guatemala …but I just know He has…and that’s good enough for me.

So here we go! I am excited to begin this next chapter of my life as I put all my belongings into storage and move to Guatemala to place myself in God’s service. I have no idea what to expect…but one thing is for certain…I’m going to get my hands really dirty!

I never thought that I would end up walking away from a lucrative 30-year construction career to devote my life to mission work…but I did. Since then, I’ve never been:

1. More uncertain about where my next dollar was going to come from and…
2. I’ve never been happier.

Mission work may not be for everyone, but everyone has a part to play in God’s ultimate plan. Here is a little story about how I found “my part.”

https://youtu.be/8Clbty3huTk

I will be taking a small team down to Guatemala in April…stay tuned for updates!

Thank you!!

2 Corinthians 5:8 – to be absent from the body, is to be present with the Lord.

Most people are afraid of death. They spend their entire lives protecting themselves from it and spend an incredible amount of money trying to delay it…but in the end…death is inevitable for all of us.

Earlier this month, I experienced the death of a new friend Steve McGregor. The night he passed away, I had a peculiar dream. I dreamed of how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly.

The process amazes me how God completely takes one species and creates another. It also amazes me that this transformation is accomplished within a physical form called a chrysalis. Caterpillar goes in…butterfly comes out.

Like the butterfly, I believe we also go through a similar transformation. But the difference is how we attach meaning to each phase.

Those who don’t know Christ, view the chrysalis as their body and their life. Even when the butterfly emerges, their friends overlook the butterfly and mourn the loss of the chrysalis.

However, those that do know Christ, view the chrysalis for what it is. It is the place where God does the work of transformation from sinner to saint. So when the time is ready, God calls the saint to emerge from the chrysalis and what emerges is larger and more beautiful than what went in.

What Christians celebrate is not the death of the chrysalis…but the birth of the butterfly! A whole new creation that has been liberated from its earthly beginnings!

I believe God is in the business of creating butterflies!

I know we will all miss the beautiful and familiar chrysalis that we all knew as Steve McGregor. But I also know that he is much larger, much more beautiful, and happier now to be free of his chrysalis and to be the creation that God designed him to be.

And that is truly worth celebrating.

I remember…

I remember when life was simpler and richer.

I remember when football teams had two uniforms…Home and Away.

I remember when you asked someone what was on the back of a quarter…they knew it was an eagle.

I remember when I went to “the doctor” and not to a specialist.

I remember when I had a “best friend” and not followers.

I remember when I would watch one of three TV channels.

I could go on and on…but you get the point…

When did we start to believe that more was better?