One time when I was pretty young, one of the neighbors hosted a bunch of the neighborhood kids for a backyard campout. I don’t remember the group size for sure, but there were probably about four to six of us that had a campfire and spent the night in a tent.
This was my first time sleeping outside (it’s probably a stretch to call it camping), but I had grown up with lots of campfires. We had a roaring bonfire, and we kept it going for awhile. I’m more of an early riser than a night owl, so it didn’t take long for me to turn in for the night while a few of the other guys stayed up around the fire.
The next morning I was one of the first to wake up. The tent was humid and stuffy, so I headed outside. With nothing much else to do, I wandered over to the campfire pit. The fire had gone out, but the stones and ashes were still warm. Using a stick, I stirred the ashes around, looking for embers that were left over from the previous night.
I found a single ember that wasn’t much larger than a spark. As soon as I uncovered it, it started glowing brightly. As a fire dies down, a layer of ash settles on the hot coals and creates a blanket that prevents the coals from getting fresh oxygen. The coals use up whatever air it can reach, then go into a dormant, smoldering state until either the fuel or air run out, or more fuel and air become available. When I uncovered the ember it the fresh oxygen revived it, but it was about to run out of fuel. I looked around nearby and found some dry leaves and pine needles and set to work trying to rekindle the fire.
With some patience and fanning, the leaves and needles soon began smoking heavily, and finally caught fire. I grabbed more nearby kindling and began building the fire to the point where it was crackling. By the time everyone was awake, it was roaring again.
All of us have sin in our past. Some have a past that includes addictions of some sort, which is very difficult to ever be completely free of. It could be drugs, alcohol, pornography, or any number of other vices. A percentage of those people are able to overcome the worst of it, but they know they must completely turn their back on that addiction if they are to remain free of it. If you know someone that’s a recovering alcoholic, for example, and they haven’t had a drink for many years, it’s a bad idea to encourage them to celebrate a special occasion with “just one” small drink.
Those people know themselves; if they’ve decided to completely abstain from the object of their addiction because they know it’s the only way to remain free of it, please respect that. A roaring fire can dwindle to just one small ember, but an ember is all it takes to build a raging and crackling flame once more.
I’d guess that I was probably 8 or 9 years old when I got my first kite. It was an orange diamond-shaped kite that had a blue dinosaur on it. I didn’t really know how to use it, but I had seen kites in cartoons and seen something about Benjamin Franklin flying one in a thunderstorm or something, so I knew what kites were supposed to do. I just didn’t know how to launch one.
There was another kid in the neighborhood, I’ll call him Billy. He was a little older than me, so he had a little better idea of what needed to happen. One breezy day we went to a nearby area that didn’t have many trees, and he was able to get the kite aloft.
Once it was up in the air he kept letting out more and more string, and the kite went higher and higher. It caught more wind, and its tails fluttered in the breeze. Every now and then it would start to dive, but giving a tug on the string helped turn it back skyward.
Eventually it got so high I wondered how much higher it could possibly go. The string that came with the kite was on a roll, like a smaller, sturdier version of the cardboard at the center of a roll of toilet paper. It turns out Billy let out almost all the string; with so little left, it came unraveled and the last of it slipped off the roll. My kite blew away.
I figured that was the end of that. I was pretty bummed that my kite was gone. Billy said he was going to go look for it, but I wasn’t real hopeful. After seeing the way that thing had danced around the sky, it seemed the wind may as well have carried it to the next state. Sure enough though, he tracked it down, wound up all the string, and brought it back to me.
Kites, as it turns out, soar when they’re securely tethered to the ground and fighting against the wind. A kite’s shape is designed to lift it higher when it meets resistance. Once that anchor is lost or there’s suddenly a lot of slack in the line, it has no way to resist the wind and loses its ability to create lift, then falls lifelessly to the ground.
To all you Christ-followers out there: you live in a dangerous time. The free ride is over. America was founded as a nation that embraced Christianity, but those days are gone. People that dislike Christianity are more proficient at attacking it than Christians are at defending it. Although Christianity might represent the biggest slice of the nation’s remaining religious demographic, that slice’s voice is drowned out by culture, influencers, and other messages that run counter to it. To be a Christian and take a stand for the principles Christ taught, you have to, without doubt, stand against the wind.
You can choose to keep a low profile if you want. Keeping with the kite metaphor you can stay low, not letting a lot of string out and thus not getting high enough to really let a lot of people see you taking a stand. If you start taking too much heat you can introduce some slack, going with the flow and falling back to a lower profile where you blend in better and get seen by fewer attackers.
Or you can realize the full potential of the way you were designed: to rise higher when the wind blows against you. There will be ups and downs, no doubt, and the tension on the string will sometimes seem like it can’t possibly get any worse, but I’d urge you not to be the one to prevent yourself from soaring. Instead of self-limiting, let the one holding the string be the one to determine how high you’re allowed to go. He knows what’s coming, what He’ll equip you to handle, and what the wind’s going to do. Why not see how high He’ll let you go?
God, I know some of the Bible stories of how You used men and women of faith. That was so long ago and seems like it’s not how You work anymore. Help me remember You’re the God who doesn’t change, and that You still reward great faith. Help me stand for You and not be afraid, no matter what the wind is doing. In Your name I ask, Amen.
I had to do one of my first research reports in 5th grade. I don’t think I’ve spent a whole lot of time checking into the state of Indiana before or since.
I wrote up a report on the state’s population size, its different regions, its climate, likely some stuff on its economy, and probably a few other things. My handwriting was nice and neat (for a change), and I assembled my papers and supporting graphics into one of those folders with the little brass things you stick through the holes in the paper to keep it secure in the folder.
On the day we were supposed to turn it in, I was pretty happy with my well-researched work of academic prowess. I had placed it carefully in my Trapper Keeper and brought it to class without even bending the edges.
As I looked around the class, I was horrified to realize that I had done nothing at all for the cover! While some kids had color photos, printouts, or elaborate drawings on the front of their state reports, all I had was a plain blue folder.
In a panic, I racked my brain about what to do. There was no possible way to do anything substantial before turning it in. That kid over there had cut out pictures of famous landmarks from their state and used a glue stick to fix them on the cover. Kids were already starting to hand their reports in!
The best I could do was to haphazardly draw a picture freehand. I whipped the report open to a picture of the state’s shape and committed the proportions and south border to memory, then started drawing on the front. The drawing was a little off center, but I topped it off with a star roughly where the capital city was. Then I threw the state name in big letters under it and put my name under that. The cover design wasn’t very good, but it was the best I could do in such a short time. I knew I’d get no points at all for the cover if I didn’t do anything, so what did I have to lose?
I don’t remember how I did on the report, but I remember that I got three out of 10 points for the cover portion. Not my best work, but three was better than zero.
If you’re not really ready to jump into this “Jesus thing” with both feet, ask yourself: “what do I have to lose?” Most people are tentative about having to give up some part of their lifestyle or quit something they’ve grown to like. This isn’t like a gym membership where you feel you have to get in shape before you walk through the doors for the first time. Come as you are. Let’s say you grow deeply committed and change your whole lifestyle and then it turns out there’s nothing waiting for us after death. In that case you won’t even possess a consciousness to realize what you’ve given up. If, on the other hand, Christ actually is who He says He is, you will have gained immeasurably more than what you had before. Sounds like very little risk for an immense payoff.
When I was a young teenager, members of our youth group took a two-hour trip to go visit a family of friends that had moved away from our church.
We did lots of stuff while reconnecting. We hung out at their house, we went to a local mall, and we ran all over the church grounds playing different games. As energetic young teenagers, we needed an outlet for some of our energy.
It must have been a cold-weather trip, because the sun went down pretty early. One of the games we played was a round of capture the flag. We could go anywhere on the church grounds, as long as it wasn’t inside a building. The playing area included a paved parking lot, the main church building, and a couple of out buildings on the property, along with all the green space in between. We set up the boundaries and used two plain white knee-length socks as flags.
Normally the way these games work is that the playing field is divided into two zones, one for each team. Each team hides the flag somewhere in their zone, and you have to venture into the opposing team’s zone to search for the flag. If an opponent tags you while you’re in their zone, you go to jail in a small section within their zone. You can be set free if someone else from your team makes it to the jail to tags you. You win the game if you find the opposing team’s flag and carry it back to your zone without being tagged. Both teams are playing offense and defense at the same time.
On that particular evening visibility was bad. Since it was dark, starting to get foggy, and there was lousy weather moving in, we split into two easily discernible teams: boys vs. girls. I don’t remember numbers, but there were a lot more girls than there were boys. Between an odd layout of the church grounds and not having enough guys on our team to simultaneously do a good job defending and go looking for the opposing team’s flag, we decided that in order to have any chance of winning, we’d have to come up with an amazing spot to hide our flag so we didn’t have to dedicate anybody to protecting it. As it turns out, we came up with what I believe to be a pretty risky and bold idea for a bunch of middle-schoolers.
When both teams were ready, we started the game. It moved slowly for a long time. Even if our team tagged opponents and brought them to our jail, we didn’t have enough guys to really protect the jail and still play in other areas, so it wasn’t too hard for the other team to set their jailed teammates free.
I remember our team’s strategy was so incoherent and we were spread so thin that at one point in the game I was running from one part of our zone to another and I stumbled across a member of the other team that nobody even realized had made it into our zone. She was picking through the bushes, looking for our flag. They had figured out that if they were patient enough, they could wander in and out of our zone and all they had to do was move quietly and we probably wouldn’t even know they were there.
This went on for probably 45 minutes. I don’t think any of our guys were able to find their flag, and the other team was getting frustrated because they felt they had searched everywhere in our zone and still couldn’t find our flag. All of us were cold and wet, and our team was about to get accused of cheating, so we collectively decided to call it a draw.
Understandably, the other team wanted to see with their own eyes where our flag had been hidden. We brought them over to the area, and some from the opposing team were shocked to learn they had run past it multiple times during the game and hadn’t even considered that it could be so near. We had placed our flag, an ordinary white sock, lying in plain sight on one of the white lines outlining parking spaces in the church’s parking lot.
Humans are born with the idea that there’s something beyond this life…that there’s more to this existence than what we can see. God’s the one that put that feeling there…He built it into us. People can’t look up at the stars or at the intricacy of the human body and not start asking big questions.
The devil, knowing he cannot stop this instinctive wondering, has concocted and fostered numerous counterfeit religious ideas and worldviews with which to distract humanity. The objective truth seeker has many options aside from Christianity they must examine, and the enemy’s hope is that the seeker will tire of the search and declare something besides the following of Christ as “close enough,” that the seeker will conclude that each worldview is as meaningless as every other one, or get them established and entrenched in an inaccurate worldview like works-based salvation. Yet all that time, the answer is not hiding. It’s sitting right there in plain sight, waiting for the seeker to look closer at it.
If you’re seeking truth, take a look at Jesus Christ and what the Bible (only the Old and New Testaments…no “mandatory” additional books) has to say about Him. Humanity was initially created perfect and had fellowship with God, but then made mistakes and became imperfect, thereby falling out of that fellowship. Jesus Christ, God incarnate, lived a perfect (sinless) life, and extends to us the offer of the only bridge back to that sweet fellowship with the Lord.
It’s that simple. You don’t have to perform rituals. You don’t have to give a certain amount of money to the church or perform a certain number of hours of community service. All you have to do is embrace Jesus Christ as your Savior, acknowledging Him as your only means of escaping the judgment of your imperfections. As you walk that new path, you’ll desire to change your character to become more like His, and as a result of that, you’ll want to perform good works.
It’s right there, hiding in plain sight. I implore you, take a closer look. You might just find the thing that you’ve been looking for all along: the answer to your deep restlessness.
Halloween is coming up, and it takes me back to some old memories.
When I was in…probably 3rd or 4th grade, our whole class was encouraged to dress up for Halloween. I think all the classes were going to be part of a costume parade or something. This particular year I was going to dress up as a pirate. It was cool, I think I had an eye patch, a fake scar or something, and even a clip-on earring that would help complete the look.
I also had an idea for a more controversial item to complement the costume. My aunt knew of my love of the outdoors, and in her travels she found something she thought I’d like. She gave me a novelty knife. The handle was actually made out of a deer hoof, so it was pretty unique. The blade itself was very dull, but the point was very sharp. Maybe it was something a pirate would carry, I dunno, but it looked kinda cool, and I figured I’d bring it to school. (I very conveniently left Mom or Dad out of the decision. I was pretty sure they’d say no, but I think I convinced myself that the reason they’d tell me no was because they didn’t want me to lose the knife.)
On the bus ride to school, everybody was excitedly talking about their costumes or the parties their class would be having. We were all going around, talking about what we’d dress up as, and I started talking about my costume. When I talked about the knife I’d brought with me, a kid that was a year older than me had his eyes go wide. “Hey, you could get in big trouble for that!”
I was a little taken aback. I wouldn’t say I was an angel in elementary school, but I was a pretty good kid. It struck me as ridiculous that I could get in big trouble for carrying a dull novelty knife. My thought was “c’mon…it’s me! I’m not gonna do anything bad with it, it’s just to make the costume look cooler.” At the time I had no concept of zero-tolerance policies or making an example out of somebody. I tried dismissing his input as just plain dumb, but his words stuck with me.
The parade and party were in the afternoon. The whole morning I sat at my desk, wrestling with my own thoughts about whether or not I should include the knife as part of the costume. The entire time, in a class of probably 20+ kids, the knife was sitting in my desk hidden behind some books. I started to worry about what would happen if the teacher found out about it. Was the kid on the bus right? Was it something I could get in trouble for? I ended up getting pretty uncomfortable with the whole situation.
I ended up skipping the knife as part of the pirate look that day. We did our little elementary parade, and the whole time I felt like my costume was incomplete. As far as I knew, nobody else had a clue that anything was missing from my ensemble. At the end of the school day, I brought the knife home with me and never brought it back to school. Mom and Dad are only finding out about it now, the same way you are. J
Just so we’re clear, bringing a knife to school was a bonehead thing to do. I knew better than to consult my parents, but it never entered my mind that they’d have legitimate reasons why they’d say no. For some reason I figured everybody at school, including any teachers that saw it, would say “hey, that’s cool!”
Sometimes all you need is to bounce an idea off someone else. I wasn’t too proud or arrogant to ask…it simply didn’t occur to me that there were other perspectives. I figured my view was sufficient. If you’re facing a decision where you’re a little out of your depth, consider bouncing it off someone else, even if you think you’ve got a pretty good lock on things. I didn’t ever hang out with that kid on the bus, we just happened to live on the same route. Even so, he gave me enough solid advice that he helped change my mind. Maybe someone else can do the same for you.
I’ve always been interested in the idea that a multitude of individuals can perform their own distinct (and widely varying) jobs to the best of their ability, but someone over them (a manager, a coach, a superior officer, etc.) oversees and puts together those collective efforts to make something really big happen.
Some people take a different view. They think of themselves as running in the rat race. They don’t want to feel like they’re a cog in the wheel. If you derive your life’s purpose from an unfulfilling job, yeah, you’re going to feel like “just another brick in the wall,” as the old song goes.
But what if you derive meaning from God’s purpose for your life? If you do that, it’s a whole new ballgame. It’s often difficult to see in the moment, but as you look backward, you can see that things fell into place and coalesced in a way that helped you get to where God wanted you to be. Sometimes those things are the actions that other people are taking and other times it’s the way events seem to unfold. When it’s all said and done, a lot of things came together in a way that enabled your goal, your purpose, to go farther than it otherwise would have. It’s like you were part of a puzzle, and your piece and all the other pieces had to fall into place for the picture to be completed.
I’m going to shift gears on you a little bit here. When I was a kid I had lots of different books that I got from yard sales, thrift stores, hand-me-downs, etc. One of the books I had was a Flintstones book. I dug around online a little just now, and it was called “The Great Balloon Race.” I don’t remember much of the story, but as you turned the pages, in one of the upper corners of the page there was a picture of Fred juggling three balls. Each time you turned the page, something about that picture was slightly different, but it didn’t really become evident what was going on until you treated the whole thing like a flipbook. Starting at the beginning of the book, Fred walked onto the page and faced the reader. He tossed a ball into the air, then another, and then another. If I remember correctly, each of the balls made a few uneventful loops as Fred started to put on a show, but then he fumbled one of them. You could see his facial expression change as he realized his mistake. When he focused his attention on that particular ball, it made it difficult to keep track of those still remaining in the air. A second ball danced past his fingertips and fell toward the floor. You saw his eyes start to shift toward the last remaining ball in the air, but by now his rhythm was thrown way off, and he had to swipe at it to even get close. That action just ended up batting it off into the distance and out of reach. Left with nothing, he then looked at the reader, shrugged, and walked back off the page by the end of the book.
Our Christian lives are like flipbooks, but the metaphor goes a layer deeper. Just like before, each individual page of the flipbook is a puzzle, and you’re one piece among many. When you’re doing the will of God, your actions are fitting together with the actions of other believers. This flipbook was already in progress before you were born; one day you walked onto the scene, and there were other pieces that connected with you to form a single, larger picture. The pieces connecting with you may have been Sunday School teachers, a grandparent or parent, a friend, a pastor, or maybe someone you heard on the radio or TV. That particular picture may have also included a family or job situation, a specific time or place, or a set of circumstances that led to your acceptance of Christ. Those other pieces, who were themselves affected by other Christians earlier in the book, had an effect on you that grew you in your Christian walk.
Whether your Christian walk lasts for decades or for only a few minutes at the end of your life, you at one point walk onto the scene, and you’ll someday exit the scene. Each page that happens in between is its own puzzle that consists of numerous other “cogs in the wheel” that are doing what God has charged them to do. None of the individual cogs has insight into what the whole picture is shaping up to be or what kind of story the flipbook will tell, but they know that there’s a grand artist that’s in charge and is steering the path of where the story’s going. After all, when God called individual followers into their individual callings, He had their subsequent interactions already arranged in His mind. You do your part, other people do their parts, and God brings it all together.
Someday you’ll exit the flipbook altogether and it will continue without you. Your calling is meant to bring glory to the Lord, and many times that involves inspiring or somehow helping another “puzzle piece” to live out their Christian walk. Be watchful for opportunities to be a piece of another puzzle that’s a page in one of Christ’s flipbooks. One day you’ll be able to reconnect with all the other people that were involved in the same pictures you were, and you’ll be able to watch how the flipbook turned out.
Lord God, You are intimately involved not only with my life, but with the lives of everyone else on this planet. You’re in the process of telling a grand story, and right now, in this moment, we’re a part of the story for a limited time. Thank you for giving us opportunities to be part of the story; please help us to have the boldness and strength to accept Your invitations when they come. I ask in Jesus’ name, Amen.
Growing up, my parents both worked at a Christian conference center. Churches that were mostly from New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania would hold retreats at this place, getting away from the routine and having a chance to study whatever the teacher/speaker/pastor decided to focus on. Getting away from familiar surroundings is often a good way to break away from the ordinary distractions of life and be able to dive deeper into the Bible.
In many cases, it would be the same church groups that came to the conference center at roughly the same time each year. Over time, the group leaders would develop a relationship with some of the people working at the conference center. One of the tricky parts would be when, every now and then, you have a group leader whose theology and teachings start to wander away from what the Bible says. It usually doesn’t happen all at once, more often it’s a bit slower, so it gets difficult for a conference center to say “you know what? That’s not what we’re about. I’m sorry, but we’re not going to approve your request for a reservation this year.”
When I was, oh, probably 13 or 14, a situation like this was brewing. One of these groups had been coming to the place for years, but this year was different. The group leader, a pretty smart guy in many respects, decided that by using “clues” sprinkled throughout the Bible, it was possible to determine a mathematical formula to calculate the date when Jesus would return, and it turns out that date was very near. He had even released a book about it and had a sizable following that eagerly ate up what he was saying.
I’m a little fuzzy on the details…the group had reserved the conference center for, if not the predicted date, very shortly before it, so all those people were pretty pumped as they started showing up. Like, there was a lot of buzz in the air. Between my parents and most of the rest of the adults on staff, though, the thing that the conversation kept coming back to was the Bible verse that says “But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.” – Matthew 24:36
As you might imagine, a lot of people wanted to hear more about the impending second coming, and many of them flooded into this little conference center. I don’t know what it was like for the grown-ups, but I remember that for me as a kid, there was this, like, sort of excitement that was easy to get swept up in. The thing that probably comes closest now is if you buy a lottery ticket when there’s a record-breaking Powerball. “Yeah, yeah, I know it won’t happen…buuuuuuut…imagine if it did!” I remember there were some pretty distinctive-looking clouds that day, too, adding to the general goose-bump factor.
There were a lot more people showing up than the place normally held, so it was an “all hands on deck” situation. There were more cars than the place had room for in the regular parking lot, so I got recruited to help direct parking in the grass field. I remember while I was doing this, one of the guys that parked his car and was on his way to the auditorium stopped to speak with me. “So what do you think? Do you think he’s right in his prediction?”
Despite the excitement in the air, being the tactless young man that I was, I spoke my mind. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because of the Bible verse that says ‘no one knows the day or the hour.’”
The dude had some kind of answer for that. I think he pointed to the presence of what he called “clues” in scripture, but he seemed to feel like this collection of hidden items somehow enabled students of the Bible to gloss over that very straightforward verse.
At any rate, the predicted date came and went, and the second coming has yet to occur. I should’ve bet the dude whatever money I could’ve scraped together that it wouldn’t happen. (If he won, I wouldn’t have had the chance to pay up.)
Today, I certainly do NOT consider myself a Bible scholar. Back then, I knew even less. Yet it was still enough to recognize false teaching.
If you’re the type of person that considers yourself a Christian, but spends little time reading and trying to understand the Bible, you’re setting yourself up to be led astray by false teaching. Spoiler alert: You don’t get wings and become an angel after you die. Read the Bible. If you’ve tried reading a Bible that has nothing but straight scripture, and it’s tough to make any sense out of it, try using a study bible. Study bibles have lots of notations, maps, and diagrams that help explain the context of what’s happening, or information about what the original Hebrew or Greek text said that gets lost in the translation into English. It will help things make more sense to you in a way that can help you apply it to your life without having to guess about what it actually means.
Watch. Be ready. Jesus is coming back someday, but none of us knows when it will happen. In the meantime, as you go about the business of life, ask yourself “is this somewhere I’d be okay being when Christ returns and He asks me what I was doing there?”
Lord, please help us all to be ready for the day You either return or call us home. There are a lot of false things out there. Between the Bible and the Holy Spirit, please help us to know what’s true and what’s false, so we can not only avoid being led astray, but also help keep others from being led astray. I ask in Your name, Amen.
When I was in my early teens I had a buddy named Cameron. If Cameron had a super power, it was anything that had to do with rubber bands. That dude had rubber bands stashed all over the house, and he was a crack shot with them.
The house where he lived had a skylight in the kitchen, and every once in awhile a fly would buzz around in there, looking for a way out. It seemed like he could always take those guys out on the first try. He also used rubber bands to make slingshots out of branches he found that were the right size/shape. If we had Instagram back then, we’d have been on it doing rubber band madness.
I’m not sure how it started, but at one point Cameron and I ignited some kind of playful feud with his dad. I was at their house like, all the time, so he was probably looking for a way to encourage me to spend less time there. I wasn’t quite “Steve Urkel” bad, but Cameron’s dad often referred to me as “the infestation.” He wasn’t too shabby with rubber bands, either, and on more than one occasion I had to dive for cover to try to escape the onslaught of flying rubber.
Again, the details are fuzzy, but one evening we anticipated that his dad was on the prowl and looking to light us up somehow. I’m pretty sure the “Home Alone” movies were fresh in our minds, and our heads were filled with ideas whose effectiveness was portrayed maybe a little too generously in the movies.
The way his house was set up, Cameron and his sister had the only rooms on the second floor, and the only other thing up there was a bathroom. He had sort of a cool setup in his room; the ceilings slanted down to the walls, so the room got shorter as you went away from the middle, but on the other side of the walls there was some storage space where the ceiling got uncomfortably short. It was a pain to get in there if you were the size of an adult, but it was great for us as kids. Our plan was to set up a bunch of alarms and traps out in Cameron’s room, and then let them stand guard while we set up a fort in one of the storage spaces so we could defend ourselves.
I don’t remember everything we set up, but I remember I brought some stuff from my house to help us out. I brought a tape player with a cassette tape cued up to a loud spot in a Michael W. Smith song, and I made a trigger out of a motorized Construx creation. I also know I brought a small chain and a bunch of metal jax. Cameron probably set up some kind of auto-rubber band crossbows aimed at the door. We strung a bunch of rubber bands together (I don’t think I can properly explain just how many rubber bands were in this house; it’s like Cameron asked for bags of rubber bands for his birthday and Christmas, and he got them) but we’d take these strings of rubber bands and pull them tight all across the room, fastening them to different things and making a sort of web. From one of them I hung the little chain, and I put the pile of metal jacks right under it, so if something disturbed the rubber band string that held the chain, it would fall onto the jacks and make a distinctive noise. The chain was barely hanging on to the string, so a false alarm wasn’t out of the question.
That wasn’t the big alarm, though. The big one was the tape player I mentioned. It was connected to a tripline that an intruder would set off, and everyone in the house would the loud guitar from the start of “Goin’ Through the Motions” if tripped. I don’t know what else we set up, but I’m sure there were other traps. Once we finished that, we shut off the lights and went to work in the storage space, rearranging boxes, garbage bags full of stuff, and strategically storing rubber band ammunition in various locations. If Cameron’s dad was coming for us, he’d either have to turn on the lights (giving himself away) or risk running through our field of booby traps.
Well, we were focused on the best way to set up a defense, and busied ourselves with strategy, plans, and fall-back areas. We had it all planned out. “The decoy dives over here while the other guy pops up and nails him from over here! When he pivots to focus on that guy, the decoy army crawls through this makeshift tunnel and hits him from the other side of the pillar! He won’t see it coming! ”
While we were making our grand strategy, we both thought we heard something out in Cameron’s room that sounded a lot like a little chain falling onto metal jacks. We both froze, wondering: 1. if we had actually heard something, 2. if it was a false alarm, and 3. now what?
Before we could do anything, Cameron’s dad burst into the storage space, filling the air with a hail of rubber projectiles. Surprised shrieks filled the room as we dove for cover but still got hit multiple times. There were so many rubber bands in the air at the same time, it’s like the guy had four arms with eight fingers and three thumbs on each hand, and they were all working on delivering stinging hits to the two of us. Well, we couldn’t mount any kind of coherent defense, and it was a massacre. Cameron’s dad shellacked us pretty good, and there was no denying who won that particular engagement.
You may have had a similar experience (in the metaphorical sense, at least). You recognize that you’re exposed to temptation from certain sins, and you’ve taken the precautions that you believe will be effective in keeping you safe. As it turns out, though, either your precautions didn’t work or something else went wrong, and you ended up not being as safe as you thought. Maybe you put your trust somewhere you shouldn’t have. Maybe you blocked a specific website but you found a different one you shouldn’t be visiting, or you stopped talking about people behind their backs, but now you disguise the gossip as a prayer request.
These things happen. You have to constantly check your defenses, taking frequent looks at your life to evaluate where you’re vulnerable. Things change rapidly; don’t rely on old measures that no longer reflect the modern vulnerabilities in your life. Know yourself and know what you have a hard time overcoming, and place countermeasures in your life that enable you to stand up to them. (In some cases, that requires a literal fleeing from the situation.)
Rubber bands can sting, but there are things that sting much worse. Set up the protections you know will help you be more effective in standing up to temptation.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. –Ephesians 6:12-13
About a year ago we had a brief reunion to celebrate some milestone birthdays in our family. It was a special time where we got together with loved ones, some of which I hadn’t seen in about 15 years. I also returned to my uncle’s house for the first time in 25 years. It was a wonderful time of celebration and it was so good to catch up with everyone.
In the course of traveling to the get-together, we spent a couple nights at my parents’ house. This is the house where I grew up, and now I’m bringing my kids there for visits.
Although my whole family’s been to my parents’ house plenty of times, on this particular occasion I took the opportunity to take a walk by myself around the neighborhood and see what things looked like.
There were parts of the neighborhood I haven’t seen for probably 15 years or more, but it had been 30 or so since I really knew it well. So many memories came back as I walked around (some of which I’ve written about before). I used to cut through that backyard all the time on my bike until the owner yelled at me for leaving bike tracks in his lawn. I got stuck in the mud when that house was new. I wonder whatever happened to the people that used to live here? I helped build that house right there. Oh wow, those people were awesome, I wonder how they’re doing?! Don’t go trick-or-treating there, that lady hands out little boxes of raisins. Here’s the hill that a friend and I went flying down on a piece of plywood nailed to a skateboard. A bunch of us did backyard wrestling all the time right over there on that grass.
It was crazy to see how much things changed, but at the same time how much they stayed the same. Like going back to visit your elementary school as an adult, the place just kinda seemed smaller than I remembered. Trees that were small when I was young had now reached full size, while others had been removed. That house looks like it’s in shambles, but that one looks great. Between when I lived there as a kid and when I went for a walk around the place, some houses in the neighborhood had been sold and resold an unknown number of times, but other houses still had the same owners. At the homes where my friends had lived (and where I had spent lots of time), I wondered what the insides of the houses looked like now. Was that crack in the drywall still there?
It was a bittersweet trip down memory lane. As a kid I recognized everyone’s car, but now if someone drove past and waved, I probably wouldn’t have a clue who it was. The weird part was that the driver could be someone that was a child the last time they passed me in a car.
Whether it’s houses, cars, or people, none of it lasts forever. Time relentlessly marches past, and the older we get, we become increasingly aware of how quickly it passes. I’m incredibly grateful that even though I’m becoming more and more aware of just how fleeting this life is, God hasn’t changed one bit in the entire time I’ve been walking this planet. Cultural shifts about what is and what isn’t acceptable continue to change, and so does conventional wisdom. Through it all though, the God watching over me today is the same one that set the planets in motion, who brought the Israelites out of slavery, and who blinded Saul on the road to Damascus. Only His covenants have changed, and they’ve only gotten better with time.
Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you will remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away, but you are the same, and your years have no end. -Psalm 102:25-27
Praise be to the everlasting One, and all glory to the One who invites us to spend eternity with Him (in bodies that don’t degrade)!
Remember the first few months after getting your driver’s license? For some it meant convenience, for others it meant freedom. Once the DMV punched your ticket there were probably a lot of unnecessary trips that you didn’t mind taking. Whatever the case, it probably took a little bit of experience before really understanding why you shouldn’t let the fuel tank get too low.
People can give you all the advice they want to, but sometimes lessons don’t sink in until you experience them for yourself. I’d heard “don’t let the gas tank fall below half in the winter,” but I didn’t take it to heart until one winter morning I couldn’t get the car to start because of the condensation that had frozen in the fuel system. Okay, lesson learned, but that’s in the winter. When temperatures are safely above freezing, it was okay to flirt with the lower hashmarks on the gauge, wasn’t it?
Well when I was low on gas I’d start driving more conservatively until I could get to a gas station. Maybe not drive so aggressively, drop the speed a little bit, use lower RPMs, accelerate slower, and if it was really bad, coast down the hills. I don’t recall ever having a problem with low fuel…until I used someone else’s car.
I forget what the situation was, but I was driving someone else’s vehicle, and it was low on gas. It was in the same area where I normally drove though, so I was confident I could get where I needed to go.
On the drive, I came up to a long hill that I must’ve driven a hundred times before, but as I drove uphill, the engine started stuttering. “What’s this?! I know it’s low on gas, but this hill is something it should be able to handle!”
As it turns out, the two vehicles were built differently. This car apparently had a fuel line that connected to the front of the gas tank. On paper, that makes perfect sense…if you’re mass producing something, you want to use the least amount of materials and make the design as simple as possible. In reality though, when that particular model climbs uphill on an almost-empty tank, all the gas moves to the back of the tank and the fuel line starts sucking air. The laughable silver lining to that dark cloud is that if you somehow manage to sputter to the top and start going downhill, the engine gets the gas it needs…when gravity is already there to help you coast down.
My car, on the other hand, had a fuel line that connected to the back of the tank. You see, someone had enough engineering sense to say “boy, you know, if the gas is really low, the driver can get up the hill and then coast down the other side, even if the engine dies.” It’s impossible to measure just how much heartache, hitchhiking, and walking that simple feature has spared people worldwide. You probably never even thought about it (hopefully because you don’t let the tank get that low). That’s okay, you didn’t have to think about it, because someone else did.
What about you? What area of work, your personal interests, or other aspect of life do you look at and say “boy, you know, if we just made this basic modification, it could net a major advantage”? You and the folks on your team could be poised to make a small change that has an outsized impact, one that people in the future don’t even think about because it’s so brilliant they take it for granted.
The world rarely moves forward in leaps and bounds; don’t be afraid to be a part of making incremental improvements that add up to big gains over time. Someone will be glad you spoke up.
