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It’s Not Just About You (Part 1 of 2)

During my senior year of college I went on a whitewater rafting/kayaking trip with a club at school. It was April, and the following month was graduation, so it was sort of an early celebration of finishing college.

At our pre-trip meeting, our faculty adviser, Tim, told us that we’d have some non-students joining us. Some were alumni from the club, others were people he knew from other endeavors. There was one guy, Joshua John, that joined us for the trip, but he didn’t really know anybody else other than Tim. I thought that was probably kind of an uncomfortable situation for him, and I was one of the club’s officers, so I made a mental note to go out of my way to make him feel welcomed. Turns out he was into some extreme physical fitness workout routines. He was a man of few words, but was definitely someone you’d want sitting in the front seat of your whitewater raft, getting doused by big water while setting the cadence for everyone else in the boat.

We had some crazy experiences on that two-day trip, and I’ll cover one in the next post. We drove to the Adirondacks in upstate New York, and went rafting on the Upper Hudson River. When we left school, everything was sunny and warm and everyone was in good spirits. Everybody started getting quiet as we arrived in the mountains to find that it was raining and some spots still had a good deal of snow on the ground. After some scouting around we set up camp in the rain and in the dark, split up camp chores, and took care of whatever we needed to do, then headed off to bed. Somewhere in here I made sure to track down Joshua John and told him we were glad to have him along with us.

The next morning it was still raining, but we hit the water anyway. The river was even higher than normal during the spring thaw, and everyone was a little jumpy. We had two rafts, and there’s usually a bit of competition among rafters when there are multiple boats. It helps build camaraderie and teamwork, so the competitive spirit is generally a good thing. The other raft was fun; they’d start spinning while going through rapids, or in calm water the crew all stood up on the edge and tried to run around the outside of the raft without falling into the water. Good stuff like this helps make a trip more fun.

Run around the raft rim

The captain of the other boat, Steve, was mischievous. He was out to get the two of us that were co-captains of our boat, an alumnus named Laura and I. Laura was physically on the shorter and smaller side. The other boat’s crew took it upon themselves to sneak up behind us during calm water, grab Laura, and pull her into their boat, essentially kidnapping one of the captains. It was funny, unless you were Laura, who helplessly became a temporary hood ornament for the other raft.

Over the course of the two days they tried sneaking up to try to get me too, but most of the time we were able to either get away or fend them off. On the second day they snuck up on us again and a couple of their goons jumped into our boat and grabbed me. They tried throwing me over the side, into the river. They caught me off guard and I knew they were too much for me, but I didn’t want to make it easy for them. I resolved to hang on as long as I could before they overpowered and dunked me.

While my jaw was clenched hard and my eyes were shut tight, there suddenly came a clamor from the front of my boat. Bodies got shoved out of the way as Joshua John jumped into the fray. He picked up one of the attackers and threw him straight down hard into the water. The other invaders bailed out of our boat and jumped back to their raft. As the first guy surfaced again, confused and gasping for air, he asked with wide eyes “what the heck was THAT?!” He looked up to see Joshua John standing in our raft, barely breathing hard. He resolutely said “I have to protect my captain.”

I’m glad I found him early in the trip to say hi!

Just remember that as you go through life, the way you interact with people affects how they interact with (or on behalf of) you and others. It’s not always going to be quite this dramatic, but are you positively impacting others enough to make a difference?

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You Did That For Me?

Photo courtesy of wordsofreason.wordpress.com

Three or four years ago our family of five went to see my folks for Easter. It was the time of year when the winter’s cold was gone and the kids could finally get some time playing outside.

While we were all in their backyard one day, I told my wife and kids about some of the places I used to visit in the woods nearby when I was a kid. On the spur of the moment, we all decided to take a trip into the forest to have a look for ourselves.

Our kiddos have always enjoyed being in the woods, but most of the places we’ve taken them have had nice wide trails that make it easy to get around. There were no trails here, so we had to find our own way. Without really thinking too much about it, my plan was to bring them into the woods through one section, then bring them down to see some cool spots along the creek, and then start coming back up through a different area.

We got down to the creek, and I showed them an old well, then brought them to the spot where some of us slid down a natural waterslide and built dams as kids. I had a childhood friend whose dad loved golf; in order to work on his swing, he’d stand in his yard and drive old golf balls into the forest. As a kid, friends and I would come across some of these golf balls while playing in the woods; they were always in the same general area, so he must’ve had a consistent swing. J Now, with my own family in tow, I told my kids to keep an eye out for golf balls. Sure enough, we found at least one.

As we started heading back, I took them along an easy route I followed when I was younger. It’s a funny thing though, if you stay out of a forest for 10 or 15 years, you might be surprised at how much it changes while you’re gone.

We crossed back over the creek and started heading back up the hill. It started getting tricky, though, because in our path were numerous thorn bushes I didn’t remember running into before. We’d make some progress up the hill, only to run into a spot that was too thick for us to pass, so we’d have to scoot sideways or even come back down the hill some. There were spots where we could squeeze through, but I had to step on a few thorny branches and hold back others with one hand while my kiddos carefully passed through.

It’s not so bad when you’re tall enough to see over the thorn bushes, but when you’re only about three feet tall and Mom and Dad don’t seem to know where they’re going, it can be scary and even overwhelming. My kids started getting worried, even coming to the verge of tears, so I stopped being delicate with the thorns in order to move us along faster. Instead of grabbing them with just a finger and thumb, I pushed them aside and held them out of the way with the back of my hand so we could make wider openings and move toward our goal a little quicker.

It was slow going, but the kids hung in there and we finally made it out of the woods. As the panic subsided, the kids noticed that one of my hands had a surprising amount of blood on it. I didn’t have any bad cuts, but the thorns had scratched me enough that it caused the blood to start flowing. It looked much worse than it actually was, but my daughter was very concerned because of how much blood she saw. Through her eyes, all she knew was that Daddy was bleeding so that the rest of them could safely pass through the dangerous spots.

As we had approached Easter that year, we had been talking more frequently about the suffering Jesus endured aside from the cross. The beatings, the humiliation, the crown of thorns, the sheer indignity, and all sorts of other often-forgotten things are still part of the story. He was so weak from the beating and other types of suffering that He couldn’t even carry the cross, as the condemned often did. My wife voiced the connection, using our adventure as an object lesson. It’s like it clicked for my oldest daughter. He took my place. I escaped the suffering because someone else did it for me.

I don’t know where you are in life, or if you consider yourself a spiritual person. None of that changes the fact that Christ paid for the price of your admission into Heaven. You can’t earn it, you can’t pay your own way, and you can’t pay Him back. The only way to get into Heaven is to use the ticket He bought you. He bought tickets for everyone, but only a small percentage of people take Him up on the offer.

He’s holding out a ticket for you, and He wants you to take it. Will you accept it?

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Hopelessly Stuck

Photo courtesy of dearlylovedmist.com

When I was probably 6 or 7 years old, a married couple built a new house across the street from us. They had moved in, but the house wasn’t totally finished yet. When you’re a little boy, new houses in the neighborhood are fun because there’s a ton of mud or dirt piles to play in.

One rainy day I was playing outside in my yard. I had my raincoat and my big rain boots, so I was all set. Our yard already had a lawn, so it didn’t really have many puddles. Since the house across the street wasn’t landscaped yet, it had all kinds of puddles and mud to go stomping through.

I knew the neighbors, and they were nice, so I crossed the street and started splashing through the grossest part of the yard. I don’t think the gutters were installed yet, so the water ran right off the roof and into the yard, making for some thick, goopy stomping. My plan was to go knock on the front door to say hi, but it was starting to be a tough slog. The mud felt like it got stickier and sticker, sucking on my boots as I tried to pull them up.

It got to the point where I couldn’t pick my feet up anymore. The rain boots were already much heavier and clunkier than the shoes I normally wore, and now it got even worse with the mud’s suction. My boots were stuck in the mud, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

I started to panic. I tried shaking them loose, but that didn’t work (it probably made it worse). I think I was afraid to pull my feet out of the boots and walk across the mud, scared that my actual feet would get swallowed by the muck. Defeated and out of ideas, I squatted down (afraid to sit, for fear of getting stuck) and started to cry.

I don’t know how long this went on, but soon the front door opened and Joyce, my neighbor, poked her head out. With a look of worried concern, she saw me in my helpless and pitiful situation, and right away got some shoes on, came close enough to grab me, and lifted me right out of the mud.

Cherished readers, this is the story of the gospel, plain and simple. I was in a mess that I couldn’t escape on my own. The difference with the gospel is that we’re all born stuck in the mess, we didn’t wander into it because we made a bad choice.

People have different reactions to being stuck like this. Some choose to just wallow and enjoy the mud as best they can. Others look at the situation and focus on it being a futile, meaningless struggle. To each and every one of us, though, a hand is extended, offering us a way out of the muck and mire. It’s not forced upon us; it is merely offered. This hand, friends, is the hand of Jesus Christ.

If you’ve come to realize that you’re stuck in the mud and would like a way out, I urge you to look into what Christ did for you. He’s gently knocking on the door of your heart. He’s not going to force the door open; He waits for you to open the door. Won’t you consider letting Him in?

It’s better than being stuck in the mire. What do you have to lose?

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Sometimes You Can’t Roll Your Sleeves Up Far Enough

In the Air Force I spent about four or five weeks preparing to pass a screening course for survival instructor candidates. As the time drew near for us to move from preparation to test time, the tone of training got more serious. Up until now we had been building our bodies and learning skills, but there was plenty of goofing off, too. The culmination of our time at Indoc was a nine-day course that was split between rigorous assignments on base and in the barracks for the first half, followed by a period of being out in the field for the second half.

On the last Friday before the course began, it was tradition for instructors to run students through “The Swamp.” The Swamp was a nasty section of Lackland Air Force Base that was just what it sounds like. Making it through the event was not a prerequisite for the course, but it was a way for students to begin making the transition from head knowledge to experience. (It was also fun for the instructors to do.)

A large portion of Air Force Basic Training was focused on professional appearance, making the uniform look good, and establishing a proper demeanor for recruits now living in one of the armed services. While that’s important and has its time and place, preparing to be a survival instructor carried with it a totally different set of objectives. The goal in a survival situation is to do just about whatever it takes to survive and return to friendly territory. A survival instructor goes through grueling circumstances so they better understand how to convey that crucial information to the students they’ll later teach. The Swamp helped students further overcome their reluctance to take actions they might not otherwise take.

Our outing started with some laps up and down a steep hill while wearing heavy rucksacks. We then made our way to the edge of the water. As we got near, we could smell the nasty, stinky, stagnant swamp. It was muddy, had some gross stuff floating in it, and we could only imagine what lived there.

We made our way to where the instructor indicated, then set down our rucks. We weren’t dirty enough yet, so he had us start low crawling through some of the muddiest channels. Naturally, you try to keep your head out of the mud when doing something like that, but that’s exactly what our instructor wanted to break us out of doing. “C’mon, get some mud on your face!”

All of us got herded into an area on the bank of the water, where we started taking turns leading exercises in soaked, muddy uniforms and heavy, waterlogged boots. Pushups, crunches, flutter kicks, eight-count bodybuilders, all sorts of calisthenics made more difficult or tricky by our environment. During flutter kicks, while our soaked boots were up in the air, water would run out of our boots and down our legs. On another occasion I remember that the ground was so soft, while I was in the pushup position my hands sunk down past my elbows into the mud. I couldn’t even bend my elbows to do pushups anymore! We alternately laid on our backs, then on our stomachs, all of us covered in mud except for our necks and heads.

Finally the instructor flat out told us to get every inch of ourselves covered in mud. Then, for his idea of a fun photo-op (which I think is fun too, in retrospect), he had us find some kind of plant to put somewhere on ourselves. By this time, you could hardly even distinguish between the students.

It’s tough to see, but yours truly is the fifth from the left

After awhile, our instructor called an end to the experience. We all headed back toward the bus. Since we couldn’t just walk onto the bus in our current condition, though, we had to get all the mud off. The stinky, dirty, nasty water that once seemed to stink so badly now washed us clean. We walked waist-deep into the water, bent down so the water was up to our neck, and in some cases even went all the way under. Considering how clean we looked when we came up, you wouldn’t know the water was so disgusting and swampy. It later took a few trips through the washing machine for those uniforms to become free of the swamp stink, but they eventually recovered.

This was a crazy experience. It was challenging, certainly, but it was very valuable. All the physical training we’d suffered through for weeks, or even months in some cases, and now this situation, demonstrated something very interesting to all of us: if we try pushing ourselves to the limit, we’ll arrive at our self-imposed mental blocks much sooner than we reach our actual limits. Maybe it’s been awhile since someone asked you: “Are you giving it everything you’ve got?” Maybe nobody’s ever asked you the follow-on question: “Yeah, but, are you really giving it your all?”

It’s also valuable to understand that when you’re confronted by difficult (or even miserable) circumstances, it’s a lot more tolerable when you have others there with you. If you’re headed toward something tough, link up with a few others so you can encourage each other along the way. Alternatively, keep your eyes peeled for someone who’s alone in the mud right now. It could be more encouraging than you’ll ever know for them to see someone wading into the mess to come alongside them.

(To see other posts related to the survival instructor indoctrination course, click here.)

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Who’s Going Back?

Photo courtesy of angryjogger.com

After Air Force Basic Training, I moved on to become a candidate for survival instructor. Since there was a high wash-out rate for that job field, we first had to complete a physically demanding screening course.

Before we could even begin the course, we had to spend a few weeks or even months building up our physical stamina. After having just graduated Basic, most of the people that arrived were very skinny and had not had any serious exercise. By the time people graduated the course, they would need to do hundreds of pushups a day, be able to run a few miles within a certain time limit, and be able to ruck four miles with a 65-pound ruck sack on their back in under 60 minutes.

These things were all possible, but our bodies needed time to build up to those capabilities. Our instructors designed PT programs meant to work us up to those goals. As a way of keeping tabs on who was deficient in which areas, we periodically had performance checks…where we measured and recorded our performance in a task (whether it be a timed run, number of repetitions done, etc.).

When we first started timed runs or timed rucks, everybody went at their own speed because nobody knew how their natural speed would play out over the distance in question. As time went on though, and we learned a bit more, we started recognizing not only our own abilities, but those of our teammates. Some people learned “okay, I’m usually able to make the cutoff with a few minutes to spare, so maybe I don’t need to push it quite so hard.” Others learned “that guy usually sets a pretty good pace…if I can just keep up with him for most of the distance, I can fall off near the end and still make it.”

The result was that trainees would usually pair off or group up according to their ability. During a run they would set the pace for each other, or during a ruck they’d be able to talk and keep each other’s spirits up. Being together helped them draw strength from one another and made them stronger than they would be on their own.

It seemed, though, that in every class you had someone who struggled very hard with certain things. Some people were naturally good at running, others were good at push-ups. Some were gifted at rucking long distances quickly, others were just born leaders. We had a guy in our class, Bob, who wasn’t really good at any of those things.

During runs Bob would always be last. He’d be near the end during ruck marches. His pushups were okay, but his pull-ups were terrible. He was not a leader. He was a goofball that would drag down the team’s average performance, and he didn’t seem too bothered by it.

One day we did a timed run. We had a one-mile dirt track, which made it nice because then we only had to do a quarter of the laps that we’d normally do on a regulation track. I don’t remember how many laps we had to do that day, but it was at least two or three.

The results were predictable. The regulars were first across the finish line, and the next few guys finished in what was a pretty normal order. By the time everyone else had finished and were all doubled over with our hands on our knees in the grass near the finish line, Bob was still on the track, way behind everyone else.

Sometimes on runs, the people who finished early would jog back to meet up with guys still trying to cross the finish line, and go at their speed to encourage them along until the end. I don’t remember everyone’s first names anymore; I’ll just call this guy Jack. Jack looked down the track and asked “who’s going back for Bob?” This was much further back than any time we’d gone back for someone before.

Jack looked around at everyone, and nobody seemed willing to go that far back to meet up with Bob. Without another word, he took off running across the field to meet up with Bob. After he took off he didn’t look back.

You can imagine the mood among those still left at the finish line. A little bit of guilt, a little bit of “but…it’s Bob.” It didn’t take long though, before everyone else started running across the field, too.

Now imagine you’re Bob. You’re plodding along at your best pace, which never seems to be good enough. Everyone else has left you in the dust, and you’re on your own. Even though this is one of your personal best distances and times, you can’t even see anybody anymore. But then here comes Jack, running over the hill and meeting up with you to match your pace and maybe urge you on a bit. As soon as he comes alongside you, a group of more than a half dozen other guys appears over the same hill, coming back for you.

Sometimes you just need to be willing to be the first one to step out. Jack didn’t know what would happen, but he decided that he was going, with or without anyone else. His resolve set everyone else in motion.

If you’re a Christ-follower, there are going to be things in your life that you are not going to want to do. There will be other times where you know there’s something that you ought to do, but you really don’t want to. It could be something like starting a new ministry from scratch because you’re the only one in a position to do it. It might be visiting a shut-in to see how you can help them. Whatever it is, nobody’s doing it, and you have the ability to do it.

After you step out, you just might find that others follow your lead.

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You Can’t Be Serious…

Image courtesy of YouTube

Imagine you’re lost in a jungle, starving, scared, and dirty. Hunger is ever present, and food is all you can think about. Then you see a lizard that you’re pretty confident you can catch.

Right now your stomach might turn a little bit, but if you’re in that situation you might start drooling. What makes the difference?

Part of it is the fact that you’re probably not desperate for food right now. Another part of it might be how squeamish you are about being around little critters.

When I was attending the screening course for Air Force Survival Instructors, the instructors wanted to impress upon students that you can’t let discomfort come between you and the actions you’ll need to take to survive. As a way of helping students get used to that idea, we had a whole slew of terrariums that were filled with all kinds of creepy crawlies. I don’t remember everything that was there, but there were lizards, toads, spiders, bugs, mice, and snakes. We had the opportunity to “get friendly” with them. We had to clean the containers they all lived in, so we had to handle them and get accustomed to holding things we’d ordinarily shy away from.

  • This guy had a Banana Ball Python around his neck

We even had Max, a 20-foot Python, which we needed to feed every few weeks.

  • Taking Max out for feeding time
Max getting ready for lunch

Some of us were more creeped out than others when it came to these critters. Some people weren’t bothered by most of them, but might have a problem with one or two of them. I don’t know that there was anyone who was unfazed by everything, but it was all done for the sake of meeting our discomfort, or even fear, head on.

You might find yourself in the middle of a situation where you’re creeped out by what you see around you. This might be your opportunity to get more comfortable with the idea of functioning well in the presence of something that gives you the willies.

Are you being held back because of your fear of something? It might be that forward progress can only happen after you face your fear. Fighting for your survival can be a messy business, and a lot of it comes down to how much discomfort you’re willing to accept. Are you willing to get uncomfortable?

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The Importance of Stretching

Photo courtesy of picswe.com

After graduating Air Force Basic Training, I began my tryout to become a survival instructor. The Indoctrination course after Basic Training is just a screening course; if you pass it, then you get to move on to take another one. While at “Indoc,” it’s your job to demonstrate that you can handle mental and physical challenges and that you’re determined to make it.

Life at Indoc was physically demanding. Our instructors needed to build our skinny bodies into something that could physically withstand punishment and grueling conditions. Physical Training was a large part of every work day. Pushups became second nature to us all. Calisthenics, weights, running, ruck marches…all intended to build us into something stronger. At that time most members of the Air Force were required to take a PT test once a year. Physical fitness was so important to our training that we did a PT test once a week.

We had some strange workouts. Sometimes we’d be in the woods cutting down trees and setting up shelters. Once every few weeks we’d have a Combat Controller (one type of Air Force special forces) come by and lead us on a run that took us through the woods and the mud, over fences, through base housing, and anywhere else he felt like going.

In order to reduce the risk of injuries and to help prepare ourselves for physical activity, we spent between 20 and 30 minutes at the start of each day stretching. Stretching warms up your muscles and helps enable them to cope with strains, exertion, and overextensions.

There were times when we had a good idea of the upcoming workout. Sometimes we knew we had a run coming up, so we’d perform stretches with a focus on that activity. Other times we knew we’d be in for a long session of calisthenics, so we stretched nearly every muscle we had. When you know the nature of the goal, in this case a particular type of workout, it’s easier to take steps to prepare for meeting that challenge.

The tricky part is when you don’t know what the goal is. On occasion, our instructors didn’t tell us what we were in for. They made sure we performed certain types of stretches, but didn’t give us any clues other than that. We had to trust that the instructors’ preparatory guidance would help set us up for whatever we had to face next.

The workouts were often grueling, but the part that took awhile to see was that successfully making it through a difficult workout was part of the solution to overcoming subsequent challenges we didn’t even know about at the time. At first all we knew was that we were exhausted at the end of a workout session. The following day we’d show up again, then leave exhausted after another workout. Each day we’d show up and go through another session and leave exhausted, but over time we discovered we could withstand more stress, we became stronger and more capable; we were able to tolerate conditions we previously didn’t think we could withstand.

It’s exactly the same thing when living a life for Christ. When we think of “living a life for Christ,” we think of going out and doing amazing or improbable things, but the truth is that some days we’re just trying to survive. We know people who have either made it through intolerable conditions or are currently enduring miserable circumstances. For them, each day is a fight just to make it through. At the end of each day all they know is that they are completely exhausted and worn out, and they don’t know how they’ll ever make it through another day, let alone months (or possibly years) of the same conditions.

The things I learned at Indoc have parallels in life. God is the only one that knows ahead of time what the goal is and how He intends to use individuals to achieve it. If those people knew at the start what they’d have to face, many of them would never believe they could do it. At Indoc we stretched to prevent injuries; going on a run through the woods without stretching is dangerous. It’s easy to twist an ankle. If you stretch your ankle ahead of time, you might still twist it and it will still hurt, but you’ll be able to continue the run without actually sustaining an injury. God’s version of stretching a person sometimes means putting them in experiences that prepare them for follow-on experiences. They hurt, but it allows those people to make it through a subsequent challenge without breaking. Since God is the only one who knows what your upcoming “workout” entails, He’s the one that best knows how to “stretch” you ahead of time.

“But what about when the stretching never seems to end?” Sounds like you’ve moved past the stretching and into the actual workout. It’s important to remember that a muscle doesn’t become stronger by doing a workout a single time. It takes repetition. When you do the same workout repetitively, your muscles adapt. They grow; they meet the challenge. Over weeks, over months, or even years, they prove they can handle it, and so you have to “add more weight” to the workout in order to keep growing. The hard workouts are exhausting and draining, and they make you ask “why?” Looking back at what you were before it all started, aren’t you now stronger and more capable? Are you now in a better position to face the next challenge?

Have you ever been stretched spiritually, physically, mentally, and/or emotionally? Maybe it was to increase your “range of motion,” capacity, or willingness. The stretching and workouts cumulatively built you into someone that can handle something more…something more difficult.

The next challenge is on the way. Whatever it is, it’s going to look intimidating. Remember that God’s been working you up to it, though, and that it’s not too much for you. Your past experiences have prepared you to take it on and succeed; don’t be afraid to accept the challenge.

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You Don’t Wear the Black Armband Forever

A view of Earth rising above the lunar surface during Apollo 8

When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut. I loved learning about the space race of the 1960s and 70s, and at one point I knew the name and assigned crew position of every Apollo astronaut that flew on a mission during the Apollo Program.

In 1961 the Americans had barely touched space. America’s first man in space, Alan Shepard, didn’t even complete an orbit; the weak rocket he used only got him high enough to kiss the edge of space. The Soviets had already sent their first Cosmonaut into orbit, and this launch was a weak American response, barely doing enough to keep us in the race. Less than three weeks later, American President Kennedy threw down the audacious goal of beating the Soviets in a manned mission to the moon before the end of the decade, as a way of establishing American preeminence in space.

Thus began a harrowing eight or nine years for NASA. It had to not only figure out the best strategy for meeting the goal, but it also had to develop skills and equipment that didn’t exist.

The process moved fast and grew increasingly complex with time. First NASA sent up one astronaut at a time, and the longest that any mission stayed up was just over a day. Then it started launching two astronauts at a time. They started to do spacewalks, to rendezvous with other orbiting objects, and to see if a capsule and crew could physically last for the two weeks in space that it would take to make it to the moon and back. Finally, it was time for the Apollo missions, which carried three men and the ability to use a lunar lander that would be used to land on the moon.

By all measures, Apollo was a beast of a program. The spacecraft systems’ subsystems had subsystems. Engineers working on the spacecraft worked in round-the-clock shifts, and projects still fell behind schedule. Everyone worked at a breakneck speed to get things ready to meet the deadline. In January 1967, the first Apollo mission finally drew near. Three astronauts sat atop their huge rocket and conducted a final test to demonstrate that all systems were ready to operate on their own.

Then an unmitigated disaster struck, freezing everything in its tracks. As the rocket still sat on the launch pad, a ferocious fire erupted inside the cabin, and killed the three astronauts before they could escape from the capsule. The fire killed America’s second man in space, its first spacewalker, and a rookie astronaut. The devastating setback stunned the nation. All work stopped while NASA, the spacecraft contractors, and even Congress sought answers to what went wrong and whether the moon was worth the cost.

Fellow astronauts escort Grissom’s body to Arlington Cemetery

It wouldn’t be until October 1968, more than a year and a half, before another manned American launch occurred…an eternity when considering JFK’s looming end-of-the-decade deadline. With time running out, everyone needed to figure out how to grieve but still move forward. In the miniseries “From the Earth to the Moon,” Wally Schirra, the commander of the first space mission after the fire, was asked about preparing for his upcoming launch while living in the shadow of the Apollo 1 tragedy. He responded “You’re sad. You mourn the loss.” He paused for a moment before adding “But you don’t wear the black armband forever.”

Without question, there are tragedies in peoples’ lives that knock them down hard. The death of a loved one; a betrayal by someone you trust; a feared diagnosis; a job loss; a terrible injury; an addiction you’re fighting through. There are serious and legitimate times in our lives when we just can’t be an effective contributor to God’s kingdom. Nobody faults you for things that are beyond your control. It takes time to fight through many of these problems, and many times God will make something good out of them. Just make sure that you don’t start using your sorrows and difficulties as an excuse not to move forward with what God’s calling you to do.

You’re the only one that knows whether or not this is an issue you’re dealing with. You WILL be knocked down; Jesus promised that we’d have trouble in this world. Sometimes you need to stay down for a minute, but don’t forget that you do need to get back up again.

Don’t wear the black armband forever. There are people you might not even know about that are waiting for you to get back up again.

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Hanging on by a Thread (Part 3 of 3)

(See Part 1 and Part 2)

Lee with two of his grandkids after returning home from the hospital

When my father-in-law Lee suddenly had a medical emergency right after Christmas a few years ago, it caught us all off guard. For almost a week we didn’t know anything, and all we could do was wait for new developments.

In order to shield the family at the hospital from having to do all the communicating through texting and phone calls, I started emailing out updates to close friends and family. The list of recipients grew quickly though, and soon we had our own Facebook page to help keep people updated and to pass along specific prayer requests both for Lee and for the needs of his family. Lee meant a lot to a whole lot of people, and eventually hundreds of readers received the daily updates I sent out.

There must have been some people hitting their knees hard in prayer on Lee and his family’s behalf, because Lee eventually opened his eyes. After spending a few days in a medically induced coma with a body temperature somewhere in the 80s, his body had some adjusting to do when he regained consciousness. He was extremely disoriented and weak, but, at least for now, he was still with us.

We were all thrilled to see Lee moving in the right direction, but the world didn’t stop turning because he was in the hospital. My young family was far from home; we were able to stay in the area for a few more days, but I had to get back to my job. We had already stayed about a week longer than we had planned, and we couldn’t stay much longer. Lee was still in the hospital when we left to head back home. The day we left the hospital, he was weak from a related surgery he just came through, but was still happy to see us and understood why we had to leave. We had no idea at the time, but that was the last time we would see him in person. We made it back home the next day and we closely stayed in touch to hear the latest news.

Time went on and Lee got discharged from the hospital. Since his scare, the only times that I had spoken with him were in the hospital when he was exhausted or groggy. After he had made it home and had time to recover some of his strength, he called and wanted to speak with me on the phone. After getting a little bit of an update on his progress, he began to thank me. I assumed he was referring to the rescue breathing I did for him when he initially lost consciousness. Just as I was about to brush it off, though, he surprised me.

Of course he appreciated my helping him live long enough to make it to the hospital, but that wasn’t the main reason he wanted to thank me. He was more thankful that throughout all the updates I sent out to the masses, I kept the focus on our family being open to accepting God’s will, rather than forcing God’s will to comply with ours. Lee didn’t have a problem with intercessory prayer, but he appreciated the balance I put on the messaging. It turns out that on multiple occasions during his recovery in the hospital he had read every email I sent out. He was surprised at all he had missed while unconscious; he enjoyed reading the emails to catch up on all of it, and he felt that the updates had taken the right approach.

That was the last time I ever spoke with Lee. A few months after coming home from the hospital, he again caught us off guard and unexpectedly passed from this world into the next. I’m not sure if it was God’s plan all along to have Lee recover enough to come home after his initial scare, or if all of the prayers sufficiently moved God to give us a few more months with Lee, but in the end, God had His way even when it conflicted with ours.

At Lee’s memorial service, as a testament to his character, the church was packed with hundreds of people. Extra chairs had to be brought in to seat everyone. Lee lived his life knowing what was truly important while ignoring what wasn’t, and people recognized that.

It’s so easy to get wrapped up and even be consumed by the things of this life, but it’s important to live in light of eternity. Too often we lose sight of the fact that very few of our daily struggles or any other distractions that preoccupy us will even be a memory once we’ve moved on from this life. The only things that will have eternal significance are the actions you’ve taken to know God and help others know Him too.

How’s your focus? Are you paying attention to the things that are important? As you go through life, are you leaving a positive lasting impact on the people with whom you interact?

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Hanging on by a Thread (Part 2 of 3)

(See Part 1 here and Part 3 here)

The next few days after my father-in-law, Lee, got whisked away to the hospital were a blur. Whatever had gone wrong with his heart was a complicated thing. Doctors put him in a medically induced coma and dropped his body temperature for a few days as a way of “rebooting” him. Since this was right after Christmas, family that had just left turned around and came back. One of Lee and Pam’s daughters flew in from Alaska. People were constantly calling, trying to find out the latest information, even when there was nothing new to report. The adrenaline we all ran on started wearing off, and the exhaustion began setting in.

Lee’s hospital was about an hour away from his house, where my wife and three young kiddos were staying. My wife would go up there every day, but an extra two hours of travel time a day added to the burden. My kids started getting antsy; at the time they were 5, 4, and 14 months, and Mommy had never been away from them this much before. In her place, they got a guy that meant well, but just couldn’t compare to Mommy. Some of the meals I came up with were really just glorified snacks, and sometimes it was the same thing over and over again. The walls started feeling like they were closing in on all of us. We needed to find some kind of better solution as we got closer to the time the doctors were going to try to raise Lee’s body temperature and revive him.

Lee and Pam knew a bunch of people in the area near the hospital, and we decided to make the drive as a family up to that region with the intent to start staying the night up there somewhere. We packed a bunch of our stuff and left Lee and Pam’s house not knowing where we’d be spending the next few nights. We made it to the hospital and went to the waiting room where we saw lots of familiar faces. During the day all kinds of friends and well-wishers came and went, some of them even bringing much-appreciated care packages of food and things to help pass the time. My kids enjoyed the extra time with Mommy, even if it was in a waiting room. Even with all the extra family and friends helping out, though, they didn’t have to stay in the same room long before they started getting antsy again. They needed somewhere to feel settled.

During the day we were still trying to find a place to stay. One family offered us an available room in their home, but five of us is a lot to cram into one room (especially when two of the kids still napped), so we wanted to see if we could find anything else. Someone had two rooms available for us, but they had a dog that my son would’ve been allergic to. Late in the day we got word that there was a family willing to let us stay at their place. They had two rooms for us, no pets, and the house was less than five minutes from the hospital. The offers weren’t going to get much better than that and it was getting late, so we grabbed it. By the time we arrived at the house it was after dark. The house was cheery and still decorated for Christmas, and when the door opened we met some of the sweetest people we could have hoped for. Jay and Esther and their daughter Tracey welcomed us into their home in one of our young family’s hours of greatest need.

Jay and Esther were great-grandparents, and they had a large family. Their house was so warm and welcoming, and someone was always popping in because…that’s just the kind of place it was. They had one of their grandsons staying in their basement at the time, and he and a visiting friend helped us bring in our luggage, pack ‘n plays, and anything we brought with us. By the time we got there, it was time to get the kids to bed. We got our daughters set up in one of the rooms, and we set up our son on the floor in the room where my wife and I stayed. I think my wife and I spent a little time visiting with the family before we collapsed into bed, too. That was our first restful night of sleep since the whole ordeal with Lee began.

The next day my wife headed off to the hospital early again, but my kids and I were able to stay in a place the kids finally felt comfortable and occupied. If memory serves, Jay and Esther had five kids; as grandparents and great-grandparents, many children had come to visit this house, and there were all kinds of fun things for my kids to play with and explore. They also had all kinds of Christmas decorations that sang or danced after it got squeezed (a favorite for kids). In addition to all kinds of stuffed animals and toys, they had a foosball table and a pool table in the basement…something that kept my kids occupied for a very long time.

Our hosts also figured out that Daddy was good at getting his kids riled up and roughhousing, but maybe needed some help in the food preparation department. Oh, man, they were so great. My kids actually started having balanced meals. Those wonderful people made it possible for us to put one foot in front of the other on our march through the trial we faced.

Last story about staying at their place. During naptime one day, I laid down my youngest in a pack ‘n play in a room by herself. I laid my son down in his sleeping bag on the floor in our room, and I set up my oldest daughter to play/color/draw on the bed in our room. My son fell asleep right away, and I told my daughter I was going to read on the floor. Once I laid down, though, I figured out pretty quickly that I wasn’t going to stay awake long, so I let her know I’d probably take a nap on the floor. My five-year-old daughter got down off our bed with her little blanket, came and lay down beside me, and all three of us took a nap in a row on the floor. We were finally in a place where we could rest.

I’ll get you caught up on Lee in my next post, but this one’s about how much we were able to benefit from the generosity and hospitality of these wonderful people. That was their gift, they loved helping people, and it was amazing and much appreciated to be ministered to in that way.

This whole site is geared toward encouraging you to use your gifts to live a life of higher impact for Christ’s Kingdom. Not everyone is going to be an international gospel singer or someone that proclaims the truth boldly in stadiums across the globe. I don’t know what your gifts are. You might not accomplish anything earth-shattering by being hospitable to someone who needs help, but let me tell you…it can mean the world to the person receiving the help. Whatever your gift is…please…find a way to use it. God gave you that gift for a reason, and if you let Him, He’ll tie you into His master plan.