Musings of a Fellow Traveler

What is an idol? It’s anything that enslaves us and moves ahead of Jesus in our list of priorities. It could be something good, like walking or fitness. I’ve faced mobility challenges for years, first breaking my fibula, which formed a non-union requiring surgery. Then, I had an ankle joint replaced. Next was a knee joint, which became bone-on-bone, leading to a total knee replacement of the first knee. Several years later, the second knee followed the same path. Early in the recovery process, I bought a Fitbit activity tracker that was attached to my pocket. It gave me valuable information as I rehabbed the ankle. Based on my progress, I could objectively assess whether I was getting enough exercise or too much. At some point, it became more than necessary information. On a flight to Dallas, I lost my Fitbit. I panicked and replaced it within a week with a new, improved wrist version; I love my Fitbit! The following year, I had my knee replaced, and my Fitbit let me track how much exercise I was getting again as I rehabbed my knee. My daughter and a friend invited me to be a Fitbit friend. They thought I would be someone easy to beat. As my knee got stronger, I walked longer and more frequently. My first target was five thousand steps daily, then ten thousand, followed by fifteen and twenty thousand steps daily or over ten miles. I planned to crack thirty thousand steps (I did hit 27,000). Then disaster struck—I got two blisters on my right foot. My wife thought I should give it a break. How could I? My steps would fall behind my daughter and my friend. But I conceded and took a break, getting less than five thousand steps—for an entire day! I needed to get back at it today, but I would take it easy with a leisurely walk about 5:30 am around a community lake. It’s my favorite walk and where I have my best prayer time. People talk about having a prayer closet; it doesn’t work for me. When I’m walking, I can focus on communing with God. The time is precious, sacred, and intimate—just me and God. When I first started doing this, I imagined walking beside Jesus. I was walking with my Best Friend. Now, I spend time with the entire Trinity, and it’s even more precious to me. My mobility is the best in ten years, and the prayer time has been great. But my Fitbit has become my master. As I eased into my 1.26-mile walk this morning, I forgot that my Fitbit was charging. It was a great walk and time of prayer. Real intimacy and closeness stirred me on many levels—I was walking in fellowship with God. Then, at the one-mile marker, with only .26 miles to go, I realized my Fitbit was at home. First, I was shocked that I wouldn’t get credit for 3,455 steps on my Fitbit. Then it struck me that I’d had an incredible walk with the Father, but I was moaning about not having my little Fitbit. We laughed (God does have a sense of humor). It was like having the most incredible meal you’ve ever eaten and complaining about not getting a cheesy, paper-wrapped mint from your waiter. I will continue to use my Fitbit, not to compete against anyone, but to keep track of how I’m doing getting exercise. However, I will work to keep my priorities straight and focus on my most important relationship with God, my Savior.

What makes a glorious sunrise? In my opinion, it’s the right amount and shape of clouds, as well as the positioning of those clouds. Aren’t clouds just water vapor sometimes containing dust particles from the atmosphere? Sometimes we drive through vapor in the form of fog. Depending upon the type of clouds and where they are positioned, as the sun approaches the horizon, there are incredible colors from the light reflected by those clouds. Various shades of the red spectrum and blue spectrum for sure, but the highlights of bright yellow give the scene a vibrant explosive quality. The hand of a master artist couldn’t begin to touch the beauty of ten minutes of this ever changing light display. The beauty of the scene is the reflection of the sun on water vapor. The sun which is too bright to look at, when its light waves bounce off wispy clouds becomes a diverse and beautiful array. Our faith is similar; the sun is analogous to God. His love is reflected off us, His creation. We are all different types, sizes, shapes and colors so the hue of reflected love is different and wonderfully beautiful. It’s a challenge to remember that my reflection of God’s love is a representation of Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross. A love so deep it’s a struggle to grasp how wide and long and high is the love of Christ. My pastor Tom, in a recent sermon said that the number one reason people say they don’t become Christian is because of Christians. He quoted Mahatma Gandi, “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” Tom reminded us to be good ambassadors for Christ. Like the clouds we are a vapor in time, Lord let us be a brilliant reflection of your Glory.

On a tour of Israel, we visited Caesarea Philippi at the headwaters of the Jordan River. The river weaves through a parklike setting of verdant grass and abundant trees in this arid land. The enormous cliff just across the river at the base of Mount Hermon creates a peaceful scene. The cliff, with its sheer size and ominous presence, is a sight to behold. To the far left, looking across the river is a large black grotto. In ancient times, it was known as Baal Hermon and Baal Gad in the Old Testament. During Alexander the Great's time, the Greeks called it Panias for the Greek god Pan. Here, they believed this half-man-half-goat mythological creature had been born. Niches were carved into the cliff wall, and statues dedicated to Pan and other graven images were housed there. In ancient times, the black grotto held long benches or altars for human sacrifice. At the northernmost reach of Jesus' personal ministry, He asked the disciples, "Who do you say I am?" Simon Peter replied, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Mt. 16:16) This significant event took place at Caesarea Philippi, a place with a rich history of pagan worship. God chose this place to reveal to Simon Peter that Jesus was the Messiah, a powerful contrast to the prevalent pagan beliefs. As I approached the cliff face and came near the black grotto, I was engulfed by a palpable sense of evil. It was so intense that I retreated across the river and sat in the solitude of the park. There, I stared, mesmerized by the paradox of the evil across the river and the theological significance of the site. Why here? Why did God the Father and God the Son reveal Jesus' real identity in this place of evil worship? A local pastor and radio program host, Gino Geraci, said some theologians believe the black grotto is the gate to Hell. All I can testify is that the feeling and sense of evil I experienced was overwhelming. After Simon Peter’s answer. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Jesus told him, “…this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock, I will build my church, and the gates of Hell will not overcome it.” Peter, the man who could not keep his eyes on Jesus and, sank into the Sea of Galilee. The man who will deny Jesus three times before the cock crowed. The man Jesus will restore on the shores of the Sea of Galilee and transform into the bold Apostle. He became so committed that when sentenced to be crucified for his faith, he asked to be crucified upside down. He stated that he didn't deserve to die like Jesus had. Jesus Christ is the rock, the bedrock of the church. I first believed the word for Peter meant a sizeable imposing rock. The word Jesus used was petros, which means stone, not the word petras, which is a large rock. This distinction is significant as it highlights that Peter, and all believers, are like small stones used by God in His will. Jesus is the cornerstone that guides the construction of His church, a powerful metaphor for the unity and strength of the church. Our guide pointed out this distinction. Warren Wiersbe refers to all who believe in Jesus Christ and confess Him as God and Savior as living stones. The gates of Hell will not overcome the church God is creating using stones like us. The evil one will not overcome our collective church. Jesus defeated him for all time on Calvary, and our faith stands as a testament to this victory!

We love rescue dogs and have had many. Some, like Nika, we know very little about their history; they were a mystery drop-off. She was rescued from a high-kill shelter in Texas, and I picked her from pictures we saw. Nika was my wife’s second choice, but something spoke to me about this dog. The rescue we got her through did some foster care training, but it was limited. Nika had to learn to be a dog from our older Havanese, Sophie. We have worked with her to overcome some of her quirks, but new and different ones keep popping up, often much to our embarrassment, like taking after a new neighbor’s timid boxer who was at least twice her size. One incident almost got her killed by a golf cart when we were visiting Florida for the winter. When we have had to discipline her, she will do the cutest antics to wheedle her way back into good graces—then she pouts. She will love us back in her way at her chosen time. Did I mention she is stubborn? I wonder if God sees us the same way. Yes, Steve is housebroken, but why does he have all these quirks? He knows better. Does God ever wonder why I rescued him? Many times, I’ve wept when looking at the cross and thinking how I’ve failed as an ambassador for Jesus. But this is when I feel His loving arm around my shoulders and His quiet whisper, “I love you.” That is what I try to be to those I love, like my family. And especially to those who desperately need to know they are loved, like Nika.

It was a beautiful late spring or early summer day in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The sun was shining, around 70 degrees that morning in 1982. It was a busy morning. I returned to my office around 11:30 and looked at my calendar. Unusual for me, there was no lunch appointment. Grabbing my suit coat, I went home. We lived a short drive away. It was a gorgeous day. During the trip, I thought about one of the morning meetings. There was a woman in the meeting who didn’t like me. Something I said brought a begrudging look of almost respect from her. The thought made me smile if people knew what I was planning. I was alone for lunch that afternoon, as my wife was at work, a long drive away. Lunch had two items on our table, the first a slushy. We would take lemonade and add enough vodka so the mixture wouldn’t freeze solid. I took a long drink and suffered a brain freeze ache behind my forehead. The other item on the table was my grandpa’s Colt Woodsman .22LR. How he loved that gun! It had been his pride and joy. Poppa taught me to shoot pistols with that gun. We’d go to the dump and shoot rats, cans, or old washing machines. Jacking a round into the chamber, I contemplated whether to hold the barrel to my temple or stick it in my mouth. Suicide seemed logical. Life seemed futile. What had begun as an exercise to look at career options had become an obsessive, self-centered mountain of indecision. It became a sickness of self-absorbed examination and contemplation. My compulsion over the issue was driving my wife and closest friends away. They were sick of hearing, “What should I do?” Implicit in my thinking was how to maximize my career potential and enjoyment. I retreated into the world of depression after giving up on my friends. During this slide, it became essential to hide my genuine feelings and put a smile on my face. With all the career scenarios, I played out each option’s best-case and worst-case situation. The inevitable outcome, successful or a disaster, ended in death. Day by day, my mental state slid further down the Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole from self-absorption to self-loathing. Daily, I tried to climb out of the pit of depression. It was like trying to crawl up a bank of soft sand. The more I struggled, the faster I slid down deeper and deeper toward oblivion. Is it worth putting up with all the pain and hard work? Let’s short-circuit life and get it over with—the permanent solution to a temporary problem. I thought how funny it was that my work performance was at a peak while I contemplated killing myself. Somehow, I found my death amusing. The unanswered question kept sucking me into a gloomy dungeon with no way out. The more I struggled, the worse it got. The closest I came was that lunch hour. I withdrew more and more. My wife knew something was wrong, but not how bad. We’d been on a health kick, eating better and exercising. The result was that we were in pretty good physical shape. My wife was strong but tired of my incessant topic. After clamming up more, I came up with my ultimate plan. My wife didn’t know what to do. The pit of soft sand I’d struggled in became a quicksand trap, pulling me beneath the surface of depression. Not an alcoholic, I did occasionally engage in binge drinking. Rather than an escape from my internal hell, it lubricated the slide deeper into a more dangerous level of thinking. The drinking to escape helped me push my wife away, which hurt her deeply. So did careless statements to friends. The close friends I’d have a social drink with were gone, replaced by the professional bar crowd who encouraged destructive behavior. I contemplated life at 3 am in our den—if there would be one. Besides the gun, I inherited Poppa’s Catholic crucifix. I thought deeper about Jesus than ever before as I looked at Jesus on the cross. The plastic body had red smudges on his hands, feet, and side, and a drip from the thorns pressed into his skull. What pain and agony He endured. I asked, “Jesus, you are God. Why did you have to die such a horrible, painful death?” The words popped into my mind in the first person,  “Because I love you.” It wasn’t a voice, but in my heart, I knew Jesus had spoken—to me. Overcome by the knowledge that the King of kings, Lord of lords, loves me, I surrendered to Him, my Lord and Savior! Gentle waves of tender warmth and comfort caressed me to the depth of my being. I knew it was God’s unconditional love. How can you describe God’s love? I don’t believe the human mind can comprehend the depth of love God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit have for us. There was a physical sense of comfort, warmth, and security, but it paled compared to my pure joy. The Bible says we share the Glory of the Lord. God transformed me from a depressed, suicidal man into a Child of God. It was the love of Jesus, my Savior, which He proved on the cross—a love I gratefully accepted with warm tears of thanksgiving on my knees in our little den. Life made sense. God created me for a relationship with Him. My purpose was to love God with all my heart and to love others. Growing up as a Catholic taught me about Jesus and God. I knew Jesus died for humanity. But, the voices from childhood haunted me. My Dad told me, “You’ll never amount to anything.” My Mom put Dad on a pedestal and continually told me. “If you can be half the man your Dad is…” These misguided words convinced me that God’s plan of grace could not include me. Jesus tells us we don’t have to earn His love. Horrid words from the past told me I wasn’t worthy; it had to include being unworthy of God’s love. If I couldn’t achieve my parents’ love, how could I deserve the love of God Almighty? That instant when Jesus told me He died such a horrible death because He loved me changed my heart. At last, I had a sense of God’s love for me. That love was demonstrated by Jesus when He died the painful death on the cross. Jesus set much of His Godhead aside to become a man to suffer for us, for me. He loves us. God even loves me. Meeting Jesus that night and accepting Him as my Lord made me love Him more than anything—no, more than everything in my life. Life hasn’t been perfect, nor have I. But it’s given me a new purpose: to live by faith in a relationship with Christ for God’s glory. The Christian faith is a love story about God’s love for us. It is personal and anchored by an immovable love that cannot be taken. He loves us so much that even in our most disgusting, sinful nature, Jesus would die for us—would even die for me. It was years before I shared this story with anyone besides my wife. Finally, I got the courage to share it with some pastor friends. One stated, “That is the message of the cross.” Why did Jesus die a horrible, tortured death on the cross? “Because of His infinite love for us. He loves us more than we can fathom.”

A few years ago, we faced the task every dog lover dreads. My wife and I had to put our 16-year-old Yorkie-Poo to sleep. This little dog had been nick-named Nurse Peppy. Her formal name was Pepper. She became known as Nurse Peppy when she crawled into a dog bed and slept with our Jack Russell Terrier (Terrorist) as he lay dying. She comforted him as he helplessly shivered until we got him to a Vet. Peppy, like many of our other dogs, became an integral part of our lives, offering comfort and companionship in times of need. When I had to elevate my leg after an ankle replacement, she would lay beside my cast on the recliner for hours. She remained on duty 24/7 for me, my wife, and our daughter, a constant source of solace and love. It made me think of my first notion of unconditional love. When I was young, our family had a yellow lab named Babe. She was always glad to see us greeting us with a tail which seemed nuclear powered. We also learned how to reciprocate love with Babe. My sister best typified this by sharing her ice cream cone with Babe. My sister would take a lick, then Babe would take a lick…you get the idea.

My eyes were dazzled by a kaleidoscope of colors to the east. There in all its glory was an incredibly beautiful dawn. Here in Colorado we have a unique opportunity for 360 degrees of color at sunrise. As the sun peeks over the horizon, it casts a glow on the mountains to the west. That is if you live on the Front Range. If you live in the mountains, you miss the splendor. Plus, the mountains give us cloud formations you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The clouds in the east were spread along the entire horizon, with long wispy tails in a variety of shapes and sizes. God had his color palate fully charged. There was every hue of the light spectrum, varying shades of red, deep purple, violet, dark blues with golden rays shining through. The sun was highlighting God’s artistic prowess. The beauty of His creation was beyond description. Grabbing a sweatshirt, I headed two blocks east to see the dawn over a vacant field. What a wonderful place to praise God for the beauty of his creation. By the time I got to my lookout point, the clouds were a grayish blue and sunlight overwhelmed the variety of colors. I missed the most glorious scenes, while I was walking… to get a better view. Sunrises are fleeting. But isn’t life just a tick in the history of the world? How often do I overlook God’s gracious blessings—as I strive for something better? I know I’m not the only one with this problem. We had the Garden of Eden, but Adam and Eve were deceived to want more. What are the blessings we run right by for a temporal worldly goal—a spouse, a child or a blooming flower? Would fifteen minutes really affect a year’s worth of work? Maybe that blessing is a stranger in line to get coffee. Someone God put in your reach for a purpose, perhaps for eternal consequences. I’ve been amazed at the times I’ve found wisdom from and had the privilege to encourage strangers. But you have to take the time or maybe it’s putting yourself in God’s hands. I pray frequently to understand God’s will for my life. Maybe what I should be praying for is to understand that it’s all God’s time, and to spend it wisely for Him. Then I thought of a conversation the previous day with an old friend, I’ll call Tom, now more of an acquaintance. His wife had cancer a couple of years ago. Thanks to surgery and chemo she had been free of cancer and doing well. Cancer was back. I said how sorry I was, he thanked me and elaborated they had been told that, at best, chemo could extend her life. He was pretty matter-of-fact and may not have mentioned the cancer if I hadn’t asked about his wife. Probing further, I asked where they were regarding faith. His response was a belief in a higher power, who had better things to do than respond to human requests. Explaining that my faith was my greatest source of comfort seemed to fall on deaf ears. While I’d characterize our current relationship as acquaintances, at one time we were quite close. I’d coached him on his leadership style and interpersonal interactions. When he was scared, Tom put up a wall. He was the opposite of authentic and presented a callous, unfeeling man spewing vindictive barbs, similar to those he heard as his father who, in a drunken rage, broke Tom’s nose. I could tell Tom was hurting. Flashback to when we worked together twenty years earlier. We got to a point where he had to come to my office and tearfully shared how bad he felt laying off an old friend. Here he was talking about his wife of 39 years like a science experiment. We agreed to have lunch soon. Just as we have for a couple of years. This time I will seriously try to make it happen and I pray to get a chance to talk to him about Jesus. Pray for us to connect. Our lives here on earth are but a tick in the history of the world, but our souls will exist for eternity. While walking with Jesus now is an incredible comfort, Heaven with Him will be—well—Heaven.