Place of Peace

“I’ve been through the wasteland and it’s only a mile ago from here.“*

Recently I had the opportunity to leave home behind and venture southwest of Nairobi into land traditionally inhabited by Maasai. It is a short distance yet one that can feel of complete isolation. Given the increase of temperatures, dryness, and a myriad of cattle and other obstacles encountered along the rugged road, the journey can be intense. It’s a road of personalized specific location, yet one we all travel.

“And now it’s a memory, but it’s only a smile ago from here.”*

After traveling the path of pitfalls and potholes a slight incline in the road suddenly clears opening up into what at first appears to be a dusty little civilization. At first glance the tiny red particles clinging to all living things give the illusion of decay, however, upon clearing the vision, a broken down sign reading Kiserian can be seen.

Kiserian in Maasai language means “place of peace.”

Living in the desert is not so much about living independently as it is about learning dependency. A journey to learn dependency upon a life sustaining source.

Treks into dryness can be full of extreme hardships. The desert, with its abrasive and biting methods, has a way of humbling and stripping away at our core. Showing our perceived strengths as the mirages they truly are. A sojourner in barren lands seeks rest, life giving water, and ultimately a place of peace.

The journey is often one of extreme hardships, but in learning dependency upon a life sustaining source, it is not a journey of waste leading to death. Perhaps this was in part why the Israelites needed to spend so long in the desert. They stood on their metaphorical mountain top having seen the the awesomeness of God yet still seemed to miss the deeper more personal connection He offered. Mountain top experiences are truly uplifting and inspiring but many times it’s in the shadowed valleys of dryness and isolation where deeper dependency and growth are learned.

Whether or not we’re on top of a mountain or huddled in the valley of shadows, the place of peace is near. It’s only a mile or so away. Our lasting Kiserian journeys to a tree and exits an empty cave.

“Lead me to the cross
Where Your love poured out
Bring me to my knees
Lord I lay me down
Rid me of myself
I belong to You
Lead me, lead me to the cross”**

*Wasteland by Dakota Motor Company

** Lead Me to the Cross by Hillsong United

 

 

All Because

“Papa. It’s been 28 years since your bellybutton problem. That makes you 45.”

“What? Why are you up? It’s not even six.”

“Papa. I just wanted you to know.”

“What are you talking about? Ugh. Go back to bed. It’s too early.”

It was then that I noticed a different little boy, wide-eyed, lying next to me.

“You’re awake. Get up! Get up! Let’s get some juice.”

Inside my head, it went something like this, “AHHHHH!”

Setting aside resentment against my wife who seemingly slept blissfully beside me, I forced myself out of bed, as a little one helped by pushing my back and a bigger one pulled on my arm. Morning is never as enjoyable as I would wish. Stepping out of the bedroom I am met by another child, saying he couldn’t sleep anymore since it was light outside and obviously the day was well underway. To say there was light outside would be a gross exaggeration. I think there was one, earliest of early birds which was just beginning to tune its song for the day stretching in its nest as the light was nothing more than the faintest of faint hazy glowing embers of pre-brightness. This is not the morning I had envisioned during spring break. Or any other day for that matter. I consider it less than joy to be up at this time of what some call “day” but never-the-less, up I must be.

Having three different sons with incredibly different sleep needs I find it a challenge to constantly be patient, kind, and not jealous of my sleeping wife. In all honesty, it’s hard. Well, actually hard doesn’t even come close. It’s a challenge to say the least, a chore to borrow a term from an older generation, and a daily choice to make. But isn’t that what real love is made from?

Now I’m not trying to boast and I certainly don’t want to come across arrogant as to say I have it all figured out, but it seems to me that love is a challenge sometimes. It is a daily chore. And it must be a constant choice. Throw in attitude, action, and behavior into the mix and love is something that is clearly in a different realm from the emotion based phrase, “I love pizza.” I have nothing against pizza but when our own personal emotional enjoyment of something, or someone, is the driving force behind our actions and behavior, we’re not talking love anymore.

Could you even imagine if Jesus decided he didn’t feel like hanging on the cross? To hang on the cross knowing there will be suffering. That he must bear all things without boasting. Intentionally choosing to endure such agony without being provoked. He chose to get up out of his comfort zone, meet us with all our unique needs, and still love us by putting us first. Now that’s a choice. That’s love.

Kind of puts into perspective my whiny little feeling based mornings as they really are. Struggles of self-centeredness. Yep, it’s that frustratingly resentful feeling, the beginning of irritation, when my self-centered world collides with the needs of others. There’s no falling out of love. Just a choice between self or others. I think that’s what the real action, attitude, and behavior are all about. A battle to see who has importance.

So, although it may be a challenge and a chore at times, I will constantly choose to love my family, even when they think a cricket is the starting sounds of morning. Striving to have the right attitude so that my actions will be the real indicator of my love, thereby showing a pattern of behavior that rejoices to everyone of the One who is True Love.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. — 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

 

To Follow

 

Benjamin read the sign and questioned whether or not this was wise but after being assured by the guide, he followed. What once was beautiful green grass had turned to a dirty brown path from all the followers.

Some of us have been taught to disregard established signs and encouraged to make our own paths. Others of us are taught to always obey them in spite of personal thoughts that may differ. Still others are taught to differentiate, going back and forth, based on an intricate internal system of ethics. And each of us grows up thinking the way of life around us is normal.

I’m sure the migratory creatures of the world never question why they are compelled to propel themselves in front of the waiting crocodile. Going with the herd often feels wisest regardless of where they are going. Sometimes following for the sake of following is not right. Although the boys are growing up in a transitional tribe where normal is a mix of locations, cultures, and the typical state or condition of things is as solid as liquid, they are not blind followers. Like crossing zebra and wildebeest they do not question the moments of chaos and obstacles that may arise in their path. Chaos and obstacles are normal. However, unlike the seemingly blind migratory creatures, we can question to make sure we are not flinging ourselves in front of metaphorical crocodiles. Even so, being a follower can be costly.

Following through life’s rapids, magically appearing obstacles, and plummeting waterfalls are never fun. However, all are navigable with the right guide. When you know you’re following a purpose and headed in the right direction the departures and river crossings of life are merely normal. And as hard as it is to step away from the herd mentality, it can be done.

It’s been said that a smooth stone has endured many tumbles in order to be considered smooth. There are times when this is exactly how we feel our lives are developing. Our paths are naturally full of trials and obstacles, but it is in the chaos of the moment that our character stands to make the decision of which path to follow. Which guide we choose. The path may be narrow. The path may be wide. However, unlike the animal kingdom, we have a say in which path to follow. But without a purposeful end in sight it is nothing but a foray into the heart of darkness.

Outline of a Family

 

A seed was planted many years ago

An immature thought covered in naivete

Roads diverged, paths crossed

Time passed, events unfolded

Marriage began, maturation multiplied

 

The metaphorical bun was eaten

We cried out to God for a revelation

Show me what to do

God protected and sent you

A “son of my right hand”-Benjamin- came forth

Joy filled hearts, sanctity of life

 

Time passed, events unfolded

The ground opened, radiation flowed

We cried out to God for a revelation

Show me what to do

God protected and sent you

A little MAN “who is like God”-Michael- marched forth

Joy filled hearts, sanctity of life

Time passed, events unfolded

God shook us, migrated our lives

The dormant seed began to awaken

Planted before families combined

Nurtured enough to sustain

 

Ten years along an idea took shape

Discussions, prayer, lunch dates

We cried out to God for a revelation

Show me what to do

 

Paper pregnant, shifting lives

A life with a non-traditional beginning

God’s hands around you in warmth and protection

God protected and sent you

Joy filled hearts, sanctity of life

“God is salvation”, Joshua

“God will be with you wherever you go*”

Three lives intertwined with two

“A cord of three strands is not quickly broken**”

And life began anew

 

“Our God is a God who saves…Let God arise… His love reigns now and forever.” -Let God Arise by Chris Tomlin

 

* Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”-Joshua 1:9

** Ecclesiastes 4:12

 

 

 

 

 

Imagine That

“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”*

The cat in the hat escaped and was spotted at school. Perhaps a little imagination was needed to view this cat roaming the campus but with Dr. Seuss Week upon us yet again, it was not hard to do. The boys came home each day with tales of wackiness and wobble-wubble-woo. One might have thought that they’d turned the school into a zoo. Classrooms turned upside down and laughter took flight and flew. Fostering imagination with eating green eggs and ham, that’s what they do.

I once saw a kid show called Imagination Movers. I’m not sure whether or not it reminded me of my brother and something he might be involved in or if it just had catchy songs. In any event the show always seemed to have the premise of solving a problem using some form of your imagination. Now I have lived in societies where the use of ones imagination was highly frowned upon as well as societies where the imagination is greatly accepted. In our home we generally encourage the use of the imagination to solve problems as well as to view the world. In fact just yesterday Benjamin was needed to watch Joshua who was strapped to a chair at our table outside finishing his juice. While Benjamin sat on the chair next to Joshua I ran off to assist Michael in whatever difficulties were weighing him down in our garden. Upon my return, and with much relief, Joshua was still where I left him but on the chair next to him sat one of our cats. Benjamin was nowhere in sight. Standing there perplexed Benjamin eventually returned, removed the cat back to her spot on the ground, and sat back in his chair. Apparently he used a surrogate while he made a trip to the bathroom. Problem solved.

“From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere.”*

Or perhaps the day when the boys got together and created a movie theater in our dormant garden. One boy used a bucket as a light so shine the movie onto the bushes while another drank “coffee” out of a flower pot. My first thought was the riduculousness of it all but then I smiled. Shame should not be welcomed in our imaginations.

For many, it seems, there is a belief that the imagination is needed when viewing Jesus or Christianity. Personally it seems to me that logic and reasoning are primary components necessary when viewing these topics.*** Imagination, however, allows the ability to empathize, sympathize, and to see beyond yourself which in turn leads us to compassion. Without these abilities how else would concepts like the Golden Rule* or unconditional love make any sense? Still other concepts, such as servant leadership, would be misunderstood, misapplied, and truly baffle the mind. The imagination. in all its God gifted glory, is potentially the closest thing we have to comprehending how order arrived from chaos. Imagination is not merely something to kill boredom. It helps us analyze, comprehend and potentially the most complex of all, see beauty.

To many, Dr. Seuss week is a once a year glorified trip down imagination lane allowing us fun in a unique way. Yet I believe if we think about it for a bit we can see into our universal gift our Creator has given. And gifts are to be continuously developed, not only to solve problems, but to see and live deeper.

“Can you imagine that?

When the sun stood still.

Can you imagine that?

Or a cross on a hill.

Imagine that.”

—Imagine That by Lost Dog

————————————————————————————————————————-

* Quotes by Dr. Seuss

**Golden Rule: “So whatever you wish that others would to do you, do also to them, for this is the Law of the Prophets.” Matthew 7:12 ESV

***Side note: God is the ultimate imagination mover. To have free will means we have to allow for the capacity of sin to enter the picture. The problem of sin is that it seeped into the blood of humanity . . . literally. Hence humanity’s worldwide need for sacrifice. To eradicate this problem it really is most logical to have a one time cleansing, is it not? If it began in the blood then by blood it ended and was completely cleansed. Problem solved.

Three

 

Three chapels spoke I this week

It allowed me in depth the Word to seek

Stepping away with passion anew

Amazingly insightful Ephesians 2

Answering the age old big three

(Who am I? How did I get here? Where am I going?)

A gift of grace absolutely free

It spoke of Identity, Good vs Evil, Metaphysics, and Purpose

Simplistic yet tiered complexity in surplus

Eyes wide open and pushed to the brink

Another wake up call to keep in sync

***

Three lads parented I this week

It allowed me in depth the Word to speak

Stepping away with passion anew

To continuously love the little crew

Evil tendencies poured out from the three

And I remembered love unconditionally

To give free will yet show they have a valued purpose

Simplistic yet tiered complexity in surplus

Created to create a workmanship on the brink

A bond of love waiting for us to link

***

Three messages heard I this week

Saved only by faith they speak

Nothing in our power can make us new

Only the grace of God brings spiritual renew’al

Genuine faith exudes evidence of life abundantly

Together in Christ with impunity

Three parts one message taught I

Three lads watching my own demise

There but for the grace of God go I

There but for the grace of God go I

 

The Bridge: Reflections

“To give a person an opinion one must first judge well whether that person is of the disposition to receive it or not.”

–The Book of Samurai

 

I couldn’t really say that I maintain a strong grasp on the pulse of my homeland right now. Like every country the beat of a nation rises and falls. Nor could I say that the politics of the moment and feelings of the day are within my grasp of knowledge either. Common sense has taught us all that news from social media is nowhere close to inherent. That being said, it appears there are some strong emotions mixed with unhealthy doses of fear permeating the atmosphere. While I generally steer clear from jumping into the arena with the big dogs to weigh in about my own opinions and thoughts on current events, this time I feel the need to share a few things I’ve recently reread.

1 John 4:18 “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

1 John 4:20 says, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.”

1 John 2:9 says “Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness.”

“Our culture has accepted two huge lies: The first is that if you disagree with someone’s lifestyle, you must fear them or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don’t have to compromise convictions to be compassionate.” –Rick Warrren

I realize that not everyone may agree with my opinion on different matters, however, the majority I think will find that we’re entering a season where mutual respect regardless of differences has traditionally been upheld. We can get into semantics later, but I think we can also agree that fear and respect are not the same. Christmas was the beginning of the bridge. It was built so that we might experience life without fear. A life that takes us out of darkness and revolves around a lasting love. A way of redemption shown to us not because we are deserving or without blame, but rather shown to us by the only God who has come to us and desires to restore a relationship that has been broken. Restoring honor where there was once shame. That to me is certainly a bridge worth pursuing and sharing.

“We love because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

Don’t Wake The Monster

After being told repeatedly that his behavior was not something desired, the mother said in a stern voice, “Benjamin. What am I going to say to you?” The almost six year old sat pensively for a moment, cocked his head, and with all seriousness uttered “Bleh.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud from where I was standing in the kitchen. Immediately two sets of eyes flashed their way to meet mine. One pair with a gleam of approval and a touch of playful mischief. The other pair had the look that you get from someone who says they love you yet nothing in their look is loving. Parenting is such a delicate balance. On one hand you get to enjoy the moments of randomness and discovery, encouraging them to go further than they ever thought possible. Enjoying the messiness of life and laughter of love. While on the other hand instructing that sometimes what is thought as creativity is not really creativity at all.

We have one son who thinks that streaking through the house is hysterical. He’s dramatic about it too. No mere naked running for the little dude. Oh no, he needs to make enough noise to draw attention to his marathon. Occasionally he wears a hat but usually that’s just an after thought. So where is the line drawn? When is it ok to laugh and let it go and when do you turn it into a teachable moment giving instruction on acceptable behavior? Maybe I should just let it all go and wait for Grandma to deal with it the next time she visits.

Sometimes a parent or teacher can feel like a monster squashing creativity for conformity. Sacrificing aspects of independence and pride for integrity and humility. It seems that even the clothes the boys have tells us to let it go and just be friends. However, truth be told, my sons are not my friends. They are my sons. Knowing right from wrong and acceptable behaviors are not something for me to ignore teaching. Having high expectations and holding them and myself accountable is not something to be inconsistent about. The real loveless monster would be to ignore such instruction in their lives. What they learn now will be the foundation they stand on later in life.

I will continue to enjoy every moment of my current world. A world where plastic dinosaurs high-five each other and the bad guys say “excuse me” and “sorry” after doing a most heinous crime, such as laughing loudly in an evil villain way. “Mwa-ha ha.” But deep within me I know that the monster of self entitlement and complacency waits for all of us just around the corner.

 

 

 

“Unconditioning”

Normally I’m all for feeding children, especially when they’re hungry and crying, but my youngest son seems to think that every time he wakes up he should have a full bottle of milk. This includes power naps, waking in the middle of the night during heavy rains, and other such natural occurrences that happen repeatedly each day. Basically, I think the kid just wants to go to sleep to eat.

Just the other day upon finishing his bottle, Joshua closed his eyes in an apparent food coma and began to doze. In less than a minute our arch nemesis of tranquility, a pair of ibis birds roosting in the trees above our house, screamed out in inconsiderate delight. Joshua’s eyes popped open, his head swiveled, and he saw the empty bottle next to us. While his lungs filled with air, his body tensed, and his fists clenched in anger I knew my novice mistake would have tearful repercussions. As Michael says, “I really don’t love ibis birds.”

I read somewhere that it takes time for a baby to realize that their stomach is full. With an angry screaming child in your arms time is of the essence. How do you get a closed-minded child to see that what they think they saw is nothing close to reality? Then as suddenly as it began, the siren ceased and the tears dried. And he smiled at me. I try not to over analyze things too much, but I’m pretty sure his smile sheepishly said, “Oh yeah. I guess I already had my bottle.”

Sometimes I think we get conditioned to give immediate responses and reactions rather than to see what is truly happening. For example one summer visiting the States our older boys saw their grandfather feeding Cheeze-Its to the dog. He may have even jokingly said it was dog food. Regardless the boys are now adamant that Cheeze-Its are for dogs. At first sight of the box on the shelf they cry out “Dogfood!” We see a fraction of the story and pull out our battle gear, dig trenches, and refuse to budge. I try not to jump to conclusions but inevitably I find myself reacting to a situation much like Joshua with his empty bottle. There are times of conditioning that are certainly healthy, such as after shampooing and rinsing, but to take a quick look at something and go into a screaming fit, well… how is this beneficial? I wonder, is this how we look to God when we don’t get what we want? Or does He see us as crying out in clueless inconsideration? With Joshua we’re working on more healthy responses, reconditioning if you will. Or as Benjamin recently told us, “If you put an “un” in front of something it will take it away.” Perhaps we could all use a little more unconditioning in our own lives too.

 

Mimesis

Chills. Sweats. Nausea. Constant desire to crawl into a hole never to return. Been there? Many times this is just common place when you live in a country that sells awesome, but not always clean, street food. For the last six days I’ve been traveling the road of food poisoning. This in and of itself is not such an issue, although one I certainly don’t need to repeat. There is no pleasantness in this form of discomfort but it is livable.

This time was different though. The crawl in the hole part was much the same but the chills and sweats were replaced with a draining fatigue actively extracting energy at every moment of my consciousness. If given a choice I’m sure I would have just closed my eyes and hoped to wake at some time in the future, but there was no such choice. Between dragging my deteriorating body from one room to the next it was the driving knowledge that in spite of my present ailments, aches, and dare I say it attitude, my focus could not be about me. I was here for a greater purpose.

I’m sure my son thought I was trying a new teaching approach to get him to crawl as I regularly pulled my body across the floor towards him. After his initial staring at my attempts of mobility, he most likely thought I was mocking him, he realized there was a possibility of freedom if I ever reached him. No doubt he would interpret his cries as encouragement for me to get there sooner. One wretched day he seemed to encourage me a bit more. Seems he was desperate to be free from the disturbingly uncomfortable stench wafting into the air. Of course smell is a trigger point for all kinds of emotions, and it did. Then it intensified my nausea causing me to turn and crawl back towards the toilet. With my departure Joshua’s cries pierced louder leading me to turn back to him. And there it was, that awkward moment where you find yourself lying on the floor halfway between the toilet and the crib, reduced to the mere mortal who realizes they have no control over life itself. If there had been an observer I’m sure this would have been a moment of farce watching a grown man on the floor flopping like a dying fish.

As I lay dying, or so it felt, it occurred to me that it wasn’t just in my sickness that my focal point was skewed. Oh certainly it would not be pleasant to vomit on a child, even though a small child does not carry the same sentiments towards an adult, but how often had I truly and completely focused on his needs alone? Now in my incapacitation I could only resolve to devote more to him and less to me. Even in a small guesthouse with minimal distractions on an isolated hill and a singular goal, the self cries out for complete devotion. A constant battle of two opposing forces frantic in efforts to defeat and reclaim my life. One force a poison needing purging the other a requirement for love.

Before leaving Kenya I jokingly told people I didn’t want God teaching me any lessons through the upcoming experience. In my life, lessons from God often come after an uncomfortable understanding that I am not God. A simple little concept that anyone who knows me can clearly see, yet when I place myself first that’s exactly what I am saying. Humanistic actions, justification, and rationalization always seem to seep into me leading me back to me. And so I flop from God to me. Perhaps it was a lack of food for six days that led my thoughts to this point or possibly just the perspective to see the unfolding comedy as a tragedy. Regardless, I am glad for the lesson.

My son on the other hand, well I think he feels I should have got the message a lot sooner.

“So God bruise the heels we’ve dug in ground, that we might move closer to love. Pull out the roots we’ve dug in so deep. Finish what you’ve started. Help us to believe. Keep our eyes wide open.” — Eyes Wide Open by Jars of Clay

Although there are many meanings for Mimesis, most hover around the central definition of imitator or to imitate. I prefer Aristotle’s definition with regards to literature – “Imitation of life”