Tag: college

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“Kayaking” + “Rappelling” = “Kayelling?”

(I apologize in advance to my email subscribers; there are a lot of pictures in this post. If it takes up too much room in your inbox, you can also check it out at https://daregreatlynow.com/2021/12/16/kayaking-rappelling-kayelling/)

Today is the 20th anniversary of a very unique event that happened in my life. For those of you that are longtime readers of DareGreatlyNow, you know that I’ve had some strange experiences. When I call one of them “very unique,” you know it’s got the potential to be a doozy.

During my senior year of college, I was the Vice President of the whitewater kayaking and rafting club, which we called “Paddle Sports.” The club itself was having a great year, and the President (a buddy of mine, Bryan) and I agreed that we wanted to do something to further drive up the club’s membership for the following year.

Every Spring our college had a talent show, and Bryan and I determined to make a video that showed some of the fun things that could be done in the club. We used some footage of fun stuff we did in the pool and some trips in local rivers, and we wanted to combine it with shots of Bryan and I (and maybe a few others) doing weird stunts using some of the club’s gear. As an example, one of the things we wanted to do was to get footage of the two of us bombing down the college’s small ski slope in one of the club’s smaller whitewater rafts.

Well I forget why, but we never got around to that one. We did, however, come up with another idea. Both Bryan and I had some background in rappelling, and between the two of us we had a fair amount of equipment. We came up with the grand idea of recording me rappelling down a cliff in a kayak.

This was a pretty intriguing idea to us, and we actually put quite a bit of thought into it. In November we scouted a location with a very tall cliff and set up the rope, but then when heading down in a normal rappel just to check things out, I discovered that the cliff was too tall, and the rope didn’t reach all the way to the bottom. That’s a dealbreaker. It was a tough break, too, because there’s not a whole lot of afternoon daylight at that time of year and Bryan and I were very busy as the semester went on.

November scouting trip; kayak in the background. Need a ladder or a longer rope.

Fortunately we were able to get our schedules to line up again at the end of the semester, on December 16th (it’s funny how far some students will go to avoid studying for finals). We found another spot on the same wall that was a little shorter, but if we didn’t pull it off this time, it probably wasn’t going to happen. There was likely to be too much snow on the ground to make it work in January.

It’s funny how much “ridiculousness” you’ll put up with for the sake of doing something challenging. We had to hike a kayak, two ropes, harnesses, and gear up a huge hill and through the woods to get to the top of the cliff. We needed to use a very steep wall in order to reduce the chance of getting the boat hung up on something on the way down. Thankfully most of this wall was very steep, with the exception of a sloped portion at the top.

Second attempt. Bryan’s turn carrying the boat.

We got topside and found a spot where we could set up solid anchors. After confirming that the ropes reached all the way to the bottom, we each did a test descent to get a feel for things, then decided to go for it.

Bryan and I both knew a good bit about knots and anchors at the time, but rigging a kayak for descent was something new for us both. Circumstances necessitated that we set up two systems, one for me and one for the boat. I couldn’t just ride down in a kayak without being harnessed in; I might fall out, for one, and kayaks aren’t designed to be suspended from the bow and stern while holding someone in the middle. Also, kayaks are heavy; if I were harnessed in and the boat wasn’t, I’d have to have Superman’s lower abdominal strength to hold the kayak level during the descent. Besides, this way if something absolutely nuts happened, I could get out of the boat and still maintain independent control of both my body and the kayak. (I just wouldn’t have any shoes on during that event because I couldn’t fit in the kayak while wearing them.)

  • Testing the balance and rigging
  • Bryan setting anchors

Well, I slid over the edge of the cliff in the kayak, but I ran into trouble almost right away. As I slid sideways down the cliff, the bow got caught in a shrub growing on the side of the cliff. It wouldn’t have been a problem, except for a funky dip in the terrain where the tip of the stern got wedged. Due to this freak terrain feature, I was stuck in a boat, I dunno, probably at least 60 feet up, without even being able to reach the wall with my arm.

  • Starting the descent
  • Seriously?! I’m stuck!

It seemed like no amount of shaking or rolling would break the boat loose. I was stuck for almost 25 minutes doing one long sit-up while trying to figure out what to do. The double-rope system ended up coming in handy; Bryan held the trailing end of my line taut from below while I got out of the boat and stood against the cliff (with no shoes) while shaking the kayak loose. He literally held my life in his hands as I let go of control of my rope to focus on breaking the boat free. (Thanks Bryan…much love!)

  • This isn’t a small cliff
  • Shaking, rattling, and rolling

After that things went much smoother, though it still took almost 10 minutes to descend the rest of the way. It’s slow going in a kayak that was meant to conquer whitewater rather than cliff walls. All told, it took about 35 minutes to get from top to bottom when it could have been done in less than 60 seconds without a kayak.

  • Broken loose at last! Thanks Bryan!
  • That’s more like it
Finally made it to the bottom

Well anyway, we showed the video to the student body during the Spring semester. A few new faces started showing up at our pool sessions, but I think most of the rest of the students were permanently put off by the demented maniac in a boat.

Fast forward 20 years, and I’m still waiting for that Mountain Dew or Red Bull sponsorship to materialize. Know what though? That experience is part of the recipe that makes me who I am today. Who rappels in a kayak? Unless you know some hardcore paddlers, you’ve probably never met anyone that’s done it. For me though, it’s helped shape the way I think. While many people scoff at crazy ideas, I’m one of those that say “well hang on, just because it’s crazy doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

Unusual? Yes. Unconventional? Absolutely. Here’s the beauty of it, though. When God made you, He broke the mold. You can search the world over, but there is simply nobody like you. The places you’ve been, the people you’ve known, the experiences you’ve had…for better or for worse…all combine to make you who you are. Quit trying to fit into the image of what you believe other people think you should be, and just…be you. God saw you coming millennia ago, and He knows exactly where you’re going.

You may not have combined multiple adventure sports, but maybe you’ve done things that make you feel like it’s hard to fit in or like you don’t have a group of people you can relate to. Just know this: if you’re yourself…no matter how weird or zany that may be…God won’t have to “figure out” what to do with you or how to use you to grow His kingdom. There’s been a role waiting for you all along.

So if you’re a Christian, go ahead. Be you. It’s who you were meant to be all along, and God’s got plans for how He’s going to use you.

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An Ordinary Fella With an Extraordinary Legacy

The college I went to was more than four hours’ drive from where I lived. When I first showed up, I wasn’t familiar at all with the region surrounding the campus, which was out in the boondocks. I was fortunate enough to have a car during my freshman year, so once during some free time, and before I even figured out who any of my friends were going to be, I headed out for a drive.

The college was, truly, out in the middle of nowhere. Cornfields and forests surrounded the place. My natural inclination was to become familiar with the town that would have the nearest movie theater, Walmart, and a couple of cheapish restaurants to choose from. I figured out how to get there and headed in that direction.

While I was driving around the place, my car stopped working. I don’t remember what the problem was, but I think the clutch fell apart, so I couldn’t shift gears. This wasn’t a problem I could limp back to campus with; I couldn’t drive the thing at all anymore.

Now, this was way back in the dark ages when I didn’t have a cell phone or a GPS. I ended up calling home from a pay phone somewhere (remember those?) and getting some advice. Fortunately my folks had set me up with a Triple A membership before I headed out to school, so I was able to get linked up with a tow truck that came and found me and drove my car and I back to school.

That solved the immediate problem, but I didn’t know what to do next as far as fixing the car. College wasn’t cheap, and neither were mechanics. I hated dealing with garages and auto shops because I knew so little about car maintenance that they could be ripping me off and I’d have no idea. My parents got in touch with the parents of someone who had just recently graduated from the same school, and asked if their son had ever dealt with car issues at school. They recommended I get in touch with a man named Bob that worked in the college’s maintenance department.

I looked him up, and it turns out that his wife Martha worked in an administrative position in the science building, and she had signed for many packages I delivered during one of the work/study jobs I wrote about previously. I told him about my problem, and he was open to taking a look. He was a super nice guy and helped put me at ease. I told him the make, model, and location of my car, gave him the key, and he went to survey the damage.

Bob somehow got my car into the workshop and fixed it for me with no fuss. When I met up with him to settle the bill, I was mentally preparing myself not to flinch when I heard the number. It was very low, though. It turns out that this sweet, white-haired, soft-spoken man, probably in his early 60s, only charged me for the cost of the parts, and he fixed my car without charging me anything for the effort he put into it. I was incredibly grateful, because money definitely was not plentiful, but I had to do something for him. He wouldn’t take additional money, so I went to the store and bought a bag of candy for him. When I gave it to him and told him to have a great day, he gave me a big smile and said “can’t help that now.”

I don’t think I ever interacted with Bob again during the rest of my time at school, but just recently I received an alumni magazine in the mail. It’s interesting to look in the sections that give alumni news by graduation year. I like looking to see things like who got married, who had kids, who had some kind of notable career development. There’s also the dreaded “in memoriam” page that lists fellow alumni that have passed away. As I perused the pages, I was startled to find that both Bob and his wife Martha passed away this past fall, just over a month apart from each other.

Bob was a special guy. I have no idea how many students he helped during the course of working at the college. The poet Maya Angelou had a quote that said something like “at the end of the day people won’t remember what you said or did, they’ll remember how you made them feel.” I believe that through Bob, God made me feel as though He were saying “look, don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

I’ve written before about sweet, ordinary people that God has used in my life during a time of great need. The sad news I received from this magazine reminds me to pass along some encouragement to you. You might not feel like you have anything special to offer to God’s service…you may not be well known, and you may only have limited means…but if you’re faithful in your pursuit of Christ and in the employment of the gifts He’s entrusted to you, rest assured that He will use you for good in the lives of others.

Lord, I thank you for Bob and Martha, the lives they lived, and the legacy they left. Thank you personally for the way Bob blessed me, and please use this example from his life as a way of blessing, encouraging, and even spurring others on as they live for You. Please give the two of them a hug for me, and let them know that they’re still affecting people down here for the better. Amen.

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When Actions are Dictated by What You Have on Hand

You may have an idea for how you’d like to execute a plan, but sometimes your resources dictate your strategy.

Let me give you an example of what I mean.

In college a buddy of mine, Rich, and I both had paintball guns, ammo, and masks. The nearest paintball place was…I don’t know…forever away, and I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. Our school was situated in a pretty rural setting, and this was a generation ago, so stuff we could get away with back then probably wouldn’t fly today. The two of us figured “hey, there are acres of forest nearby, how about we do some one-on-one out in the woods?”

We were both game, so we went out to the woods one day with our paintball gear. We agreed on the boundaries, set up a time limit, and discussed some other rules. I had my Walmart special…a cheapo pump-action paintball gun that came with a 10-round tube and a mini CO2 cylinder that fit inside the handle. I don’t know where Rich got his, but I know it was a semi-automatic paintball gun with a hopper that held about 200 rounds and a CO2 canister that was just about as big as the hopper.

He could probably spray about a dozen paintballs in the time it took me to fire off two. The ratio was even worse if I wanted to shoot with accuracy. If I got into a firefight with Rich, he’d obliterate me. I’d be pink or yellow for a week. The only way I could win was if I somehow got the drop on him, but I needed a strategy.

Since the tools at my disposal didn’t give me a lot of offensive horsepower, I decided I’d find a good ambush spot and try to make my first shot be the only shot I’d need. Once we split up and headed into the woods, I took off running along one of the trails, looking for a spot that suited my needs. I forget the exact measure that we agreed on, but we were able to go up to five or 10 steps off the trail on either side. I found a spot that gave me a decent field of fire and was far enough off the trail that he shouldn’t spot me right away.

I pushed a bunch of leaves into a pile and then sort of crawled under them, spreading them out over me as best I could. The idea was to stay hidden so he’d get close enough for me to take my shot. Once I got my camouflage set up, I chambered a round, turned off the safety, and waited.

It’s funny how nerve-wracking waiting can be. Trying to lay silently under a pile of leaves doesn’t really work for a significant length of time, and any noise you make seems like it gets amplified. You don’t have the same quality of vision wearing a clunky mask, and it starts to get fogged up as you get hot.

Eventually Rich came into view, patrolling the trail. He was locked, loaded and on high alert, ready to grease anything that moved. As he approached, it looked like he was going to get close to me without noticing my position. I tracked him with the gun, lining up my shot as my finger tightened on the trigger. I went for it. I took the shot, hoping to end the game with one trigger pull.

I missed.

The shot gave away my position and Rich unleashed paint fury as he ran out of the kill zone. It all happened so fast I didn’t even try to load another round as Rich’s suppressing fire rained down paintballs all through the area I was hiding in. Then, he was gone. I blew my only chance. It turns out that aside from about 10 seconds, this wasn’t a very exciting paintball match. Time soon ran out and we were both still alive; it was a draw.

The thing is, though, I don’t see how I could’ve obtained a better outcome. My circumstances dictated that no matter how aggressive I wanted to be, I had to choose a path that considered the resources at my disposal and gave me greater odds of success.

The same may hold true for you in your Christian walk. After Christ gets hold of you, He usually has some things He wants you to accomplish in your life. It may be as simple as forgiving someone you feel has wronged you. For Saul (later Paul), the plan after his salvation was to be a missionary and church planter. For us, reading the Bible almost 2,000 years later, we say “well, yeah, it’s Paul…being a missionary and planting churches is what he did.” Sure, but there was a time when that plan wasn’t so clear. Paul didn’t know right away that he was going to make four missionary trips, get shipwrecked three or four times, get bitten by a poisonous snake, receive 39 lashes on five different occasions, endure an earthquake in prison, and be stoned and left for dead. By the time he died, he had survived all of those things, but before he even encountered the first one of them, he had to start somewhere.

Maybe you’ll one day be a giant of the faith. Maybe you already are. Here’s the thing though: God sometimes limits your resources, or removes opportunities from your life so He can steer you toward something you wouldn’t have otherwise chosen. We usually think of it as something bad, but it’s more like a divine course correction.

All that to say…if you’ve been looking for a way to serve God but aren’t quite sure how to get started, consider this question instead: taking into account the time, skills, and other resources at your disposal, what CAN you do? The fewer the options, the clearer the choice.

Lord, I know in my head You have a plan for my life and You want me to use the tools I have to bring You glory. Help me to see the direction I should go, what I should do, and how You want me to get started. Please also help me to realize and accept that even if I don’t get it exactly right, I’m not going to ruin Your plans. Amen

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Playing For An Audience of One

Part of our college graduation requirement was to deliver a “Senior Seminar” in our chosen field of study. This was essentially an in-depth presentation on a faculty-approved topic related to our studies. Each department’s students sacrificed a few Saturday mornings during our final semester and took turns presenting our topic to the department faculty and an audience of our peers.

Although it’s not always the case, science presentations can be boring. All of us biology majors had to sit through some dry (but meticulously researched and well-sourced) student lectures. Most of the bio presentations were either in the pre-med concentration or the ecological field of study.

You may remember from a previous post that I had fallen behind in my major early on in my academic pursuits. As part of an attempt to catch up, I did a summer project where I went out into a wooded area near my house and repeatedly set out 25 small live traps to perform a wildlife survey. I set out little red flags to mark the spots to place the traps, and six or eight times I baited them with various seeds and left them out overnight. It was fairly involved and I thought I’d be able to write up a report to obtain a few college credits for this study. Well, that didn’t work out, but since I had already done it, I figured I’d do my senior seminar on it.

Overall it went well. After hearing so many abstract presentations that were difficult to grasp meaningfully, the biology professors seemed to enjoy hearing about an experiment that one of the students actually conducted in the field. In fact this presentation was the only one that drew questions from all of the faculty members. One of my non-biology housemates showed up to support me, too, which meant a lot. I ended up getting a very good grade, and I probably allowed it to inflate my ego a little more than I should have.

Weeks later one of the biology professors approached me and said “we have a campus-wide visit day coming up for prospective students. As part of the programming, each department has a current student give a presentation for visiting students interested in those respective majors. Would you be interested in delivering your senior seminar on behalf of the biology department that day?”

It was an honor, for sure. It would be good resume fodder, and it looked like I could get a bit more mileage out of that summer project, so I agreed. I gathered my notes, looked at the feedback I got from my seminar and made adjustments, and rehearsed as the event drew near.

The day eventually came, and I waited in the lecture hall prepared to do my presentation for the numerous prospective biology students that would surely come to tour the campus that day. I had no idea how many visiting students would show, but I was ready. I had even started getting cocky by this point. “They asked me to do my presentation, probably because it stood out so much. I don’t even have to do a great job; it’s not like this is a class of my peers…these will only be high school kids.”

Well, that guy still had some growing up to do, and his lesson was about to begin.

The clock kept ticking and it was nearly time to start, but nobody showed up. Finally, one student and one of their parents came into the lecture hall. There was nobody else.

Whichever professor represented the biology department that day spoke a little about the department, introduced me, then let me take it away. It felt weird, playing to an “audience of one” (and their mom or dad) who sat in the back row of a theater-style lecture hall. It felt like sort of a waste, but I went through the entire presentation again.

This time at the end, when I asked for questions, there were absolutely none. The visiting student just wanted to get out of there and stop hearing about the mice I’d caught.

It was a lot different from the first time around. I have no idea if that student chose to attend my alma mater, or if maybe they decided right then and there to look for a different school and/or major because they were afraid they’d have to go out in the woods and try to catch mice or something.

Well, the experience helped bring me back to earth. It helped me better understand the concept of playing for an audience of one. As Christians, we need to be careful about whose approval we seek. It’s also important to examine our motivations. Are we working for Christ’s glory, or our own? Yes we all have talents, but are we using them in ways that would make God happy? I don’t know who I’m talking to right now, but someone reading this needs to think about how they’d feel if they’re busy using their talents or resources when Jesus taps them on the shoulder and says “I can see what’s in your heart, you know.”

We are not trying to please people but God, who tests our heart. 1 Thessalonians 2:4b

Lord Jesus, there are things you’ve done in my life that make me uniquely prepared to serve you in certain capacities. Although some of my experience comes from things I’ve worked hard to earn, help me to recognize that You ultimately control what direction my life takes. Please show me the places in my own mind and attitude where I need to make adjustments in order to ensure I’m working to glorify You and not me. Amen

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When Your Tank is Empty but There are Still Miles To Go

During my Junior year in college, our men’s dorm held its own version of the Olympics.

The games consisted of a variety of events. There were some conventional events, some less-conventional events, and some downright nutty events (I was thankful to be one of the referees, rather than one of the participants, in the event where you had to reach into a bag and eat whatever you pulled out). The games were memorable and went late into the night.

For some events the scoring system was straightforward. There were four floors represented, so in an event where all four floors participated simultaneously (a relay race, for example), the first-place finisher got 400 points, the second-place finisher got 300, then 200 for third place, and the last-place finisher got 100 points.

For bracket-style events, the scoring system was a little more controversial. We had two very good chess players in the dorm, and chess was one of the events. Events like this were split into two matches for round one, and then the winners from both matches would meet in the finals, and both losers from round one would also go head-to-head. The winners’ bracket would place first and second overall, and thus be awarded either 400 or 300 points. When these two talented competitors faced off in the first round, one of them had to lose. That guy was then forced into the loser’s bracket, where he could earn no higher than third place overall.

Well somehow I found myself representing my floor in the arm wrestling event. I was no slouch, but in this event I was definitely outgunned. It would be an understatement to say that I was not favored to win the event.

Due to the scoring system, the strategy I settled on was to use up everything I had in the tank to try to win the first match. That way if I could pull off a win, I’d avoid the loser’s bracket and be guaranteed a minimum of 300 points for our team even if I lost round two in an embarrassing fashion.

For the first match I got paired up with a guy named Tyrone. Tyrone was a buddy of mine, and we regularly lifted weights together a few times a week. We each had our strengths when it came to different exercises in the weight room, but trust me when I tell you that he had the advantage when it came to the explosive power and brute force required for arm wrestling.

I developed a new strategy…just try to last longer than 10 seconds!

We both sat down and established our grips, and the judge started the match. For about a second and a half, our hands went nowhere, a perfect balance of strength. Then Tyrone’s muscle simply overpowered mine. My fist steadily descended toward the table. A few seconds into it, this one was already just about over. My knuckles were so close to the table, but he couldn’t seem to close the deal. He didn’t quite have the leverage to bring his power to bear on my barely alive wrist.

I think at that point Tyrone changed strategies. It seemed like he took his foot off the gas and just waited for me to get tired. Since his advantage lay with his power though, he should have gone for the kill.

Surprised that I was still in it and that I wasn’t yet headed for the lower bracket, I resolved to give it everything I had. The problem was that the force I could generate using “everything I had” became less and less as time went on.

The seconds ticked by. A match that should have been over in 5 or 10 seconds was still going at 30 seconds. Then it passed 60 seconds. Those watching started out enjoying the match with shouts and yelling. Some of those spectators got bored and walked away, only mildly curious about the outcome.

Anybody watching could see that I was in pain, wincing and just barely hanging on. The whole time, Tyrone sat there, cool as a cucumber, just waiting for my strength to give out. He tried a few more times to go for the kill, but it didn’t work. Nobody was more surprised than me when he just gave up and stopped trying. He let me push his hand to the table surface. I can’t say I beat him, but I advanced to the winner’s bracket!

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been talking about finding and pursuing the thing that God put you here on Earth to do. It’s your “I have to;” it’s your God-given purpose. For those of you trying to ignore it or push it to the back of your mind, consider this: everyone that’s ever existed either already has, or someday will, experience two “rounds:” this one on Earth that we’re living right now, and the one that comes after this one. You may not think of it in these terms, but this current round is the one that determines where we experience the second round.

If you’re a Christian, please don’t misunderstand me, it’s fantastic that you’ve accepted Christ as your Savior…but for almost everyone other than those who experience deathbed conversions, your Christian walk is probably meant to go deeper. The Holy Spirit has a way of prompting you to move in directions you don’t want to go, of pushing you to do things you don’t want to do. And you know the crazy part? Many times it’s for the sake of making an eternal impact on someone else, but it’s not something you could have (or would have) planned on your own.

Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him. –James 1:12

So even if you’re wincing in pain while barely holding on, surprised that you’re even still hanging in there, let me encourage you to give everything you’ve got despite the pain so that this round has a bigger impact for those on your team (and those that will join your team in the future)! The opposition may look like they’re fresh and powerful, but you never know what’s going on behind the scenes. Do not give up! Save nothing for round two; put everything you’ve got into round one, and let round two figure itself out.

For those seeking closure, even if I were fresh and didn’t have an exhausted arm, I wouldn’t have been able to beat Dave, the guy I met in round two. I think that round ended with my hand on the table less than 3 seconds after the match started.

Tyrone, if you’re reading this…I still can’t claim victory, because I didn’t actually beat you; you just let me win. I have no doubt you should’ve won! You were an animal in the weight room. As a testament to how strongly I believe this, I’ll admit that I’m kind of afraid you’re going to read this and come find me and demand a rematch!

PS – The answer’s no, unless you’re really weak now.

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I Used to Skinny Dip. Now I Chunky Dunk.

If you’ve read some of my previous posts and suspected that I’m crazy, you’ll be sure of it after this one. Stick with me though, it’s going somewhere.

For a few summers in high school and college, I worked at a Christian conference center. The summer staff, made up mostly of teenagers, lived on the campus and did a variety of jobs during the summer. “Summer staff” made for lots of fun memories. The days were long, but the weeks (and summers) were short.

I don’t know if this still happens today, but back then the girls had a tradition where, once a summer, they’d sneak out after curfew and hit the pool for some late-night skinny dipping. Every summer, the morning after the annual excursion happened, the guys would be disappointed because it had gone on right under our noses, while we were sleeping, and we hadn’t even been aware that it was happening. (We caught them in the act the previous summer, but I was on crutches, so I couldn’t play much of a role in it.) It was a huge morale boost for the ladies to get away with something so dangerous, and it would temporarily suck the morale right out of the guys’ side of the dorm.

Well, the following summer I was a counselor, so the curfew wasn’t an issue for me. It would have been fun to catch the girls in the act, but it would’ve been impossible to keep watch every night of the summer. Rather than have the guys stay up late trying to catch the girls (and making it tougher to stay healthy in the process), I decided I would instead try to deter the girls from sneaking out for their annual tradition. A few complete coincidences worked in my favor, and I probably went a little overboard further developing my “unhinged” persona. One time, by complete luck, while I was locking up the kitchen at night, I looked out the window and saw three of the summer staff girls running out of the dorm toward the kitchen, for what I can only guess was the need to raid the fridge. I couldn’t resist the opportunity. That night when I had entered the kitchen, I didn’t turn on any of the lights, so I was walking around in the dark. I hid and waited silently. Sure enough, the three came sneaking in without turning on the lights. As they drew near, I jumped out from wherever I was hiding and yelled “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE!” They screamed in absolute terror and ran out with their hair standing straight up. Hopefully they got a snack somewhere else.

Now, you have to understand that back then, I had more enthusiasm and energy than direction. I got a little crazier and, in my exuberance, I dug up a camouflage military uniform that I would put on as it drew near the time for lights out. Sometimes the camo makeup went on, too. I’d let everyone see me in it, and the impression everyone got was that even as everyone was going to bed, I was heading outside into the dark to do Heaven-only-knows what. I wouldn’t do this every night, but I did it often enough to keep would-be curfew breakers guessing whether or not I was out there waiting for them. It was a page from Bruce Wayne’s book.

In full summer camo one night…

Another complete coincidence worked in my favor. Sometimes I really would head outside, all dressed in camo. My main purpose was merely to be seen heading out into the darkness, but since I didn’t want to be seen coming right back in again, I had to stay out for awhile. Most of the time I just found a comfy place to lay down in the grass, and in truth I enjoyed the quiet and stillness of the normally busy place while I was out there. Sometimes I fell asleep. One time, though, as I turned the corner of a building, I came across four of the staff girls, just sitting on the grass overlooking the pool, breaking curfew. At least one of them was someone that I had earlier caught sneaking into the kitchen. They weren’t doing anything wrong (other than being out after curfew), but to them it seemed like I just…knew when they were out there doing something they shouldn’t be doing.

This is the winter version; blowing my nose wiped off part of the makeup, but when I painted up it looked like this

The end result of all this was that I cultivated an impression that just wasn’t true, and it ended up influencing others’ behavior in a way that I wanted. There were countless nights where they could’ve made it to the pool without any problem at all, but it was the fear of some weirdo in camouflage hiding in the bushes that kept them from taking part in the adventure they wanted to be a part of. More often than not, I was actually asleep in my bed way before lights out, but without knowing that truth, late-night pool adventures got postponed.

Here’s where we “land the plane” on this entry. As Christians, we have an enemy that cultivates the same kind of image. If you’re a Jesus-follower, you have the unimaginable power of the Holy Spirit residing in you, but if your enemy can intimidate you into entertaining or giving in to your doubts, he’s effectively countered the power you have inside you. In military terms, he’s negated your will or capacity to fight, even though you’re equipped to dominate.

It’s all just clever tricks and deception. Remember the truth: as a Christian, you are more than a conqueror! Don’t be held captive by lies! Not only do you have defensive armor available to you, but you have the greatest offensive weapon there is…the Sword of the Spirit (Ephesians 6:10-18). Properly prepared, you can walk boldly and confidently into a spiritual battle and emerge victorious. Think of it this way: if you don’t have the will to fight, the enemy can use the resources he would have used on you…somewhere else. Make no mistake: he’s going to use them, if not on you, then on someone else. If you and the Holy Spirit combat those forces, you are fighting back against the darkness and tying up enemy forces, enabling relief elsewhere. (See Daniel 10:1-14 for an example where this happened to an angel.)

The Prince of Darkness excels in lying and deception. Do you believe the lies he wants you to believe, or are you willing to trust God’s truth? Don’t believe the lies. Get up and get in the fight.

In a couple of weeks I hope to start a series on some more of the tactics Satan uses against you. Subscribe today to be sure you don’t miss it!

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To the Class of 2020

Graduations look a little different these days

It’s difficult to overstate the level of disruption the Coronavirus has brought into our daily lives. A few years from now we’ll likely view this period as a lost six months, year, whatever. For many of us, we’ll probably be able to shake off this experience and view it as no more than a strange blip that we lived through. There are simply some things, however, that will be permanently lost. One of the first that comes to mind is the opportunity to walk with your peers at an in-person graduation ceremony.

Whether we’re talking high school or college, your senior year is special. After all the waiting, you’re now in the class that’s at the top of the heap. After graduation, you’ll probably keep in touch with some of your friends, but it’s never quite going to be the same again. In that sense, graduation ceremonies are bittersweet mixes of celebrations and goodbyes. In my mind the lack of an opportunity to partake in a traditional ceremony robs students of closure both in triumphing over the academic struggles and in parting ways with classmates.

To all the Seniors out there, I’m sorry the virus robbed you of this memorable experience. There’s nothing I can do to restore that for you, but this week’s post is in honor of you, and hopefully you can live vicariously through the experiences shared here. It’s nothing major, but hopefully it’s at least fun to read.

One other major thing that distinguishes your senior year from all others is that, as upperclassmen, you’ve got dibs on pulling pranks. It’s important to understand that pranks are usually pretty pointless in terms of what they achieve, but they can be a thrill to plan and execute. The journey is the destination. Very seldom does a prank result in something that alters the course of history, but history is full of memorable “what was the point of that?” pranks.

As a senior in college, I was super busy my senior year (see this post for more background about how I brought this on myself). Some of my friends and other people from my class took part in some antics around the campus, but I just didn’t have the time to participate. A group of my friends snuck into the cafeteria one evening under the noses of the cafeteria workers and swiped a few stacks of the trays students used during meal times. They then brought them to the gym after hours, where one of the participants had “accidentally” neglected to secure a certain door upon locking up for the night. The next morning a whole bunch of meal trays were discovered floating in the pool, and I’m not sure how the cafeteria supplied trays for breakfast.

To our college’s credit (and to our dismay as student delinquents), they had a fantastic prank clean-up crew. I was on my way to class one winter morning, at least a few days after it had snowed, and as I walked along one of the main routes that included a tunnel through one of the buildings, it was odd to see one of the maintenance staff using a snow blower to remove a huge pile of snow near the tunnel entrance. I didn’t think too much of it until later, when I learned that someone I knew and a group of his buddies had filled up the bed of a pickup truck with snow multiple times, and then proceeded to dump the loads of snow in front of this tunnel. (And I know at least one of you is reading this…it was a great attempt, thanks for filling me in on it later!)

We eventually figured out that the diligence of the “clean-up crew” was the largest barrier to the “epic-ness” of whatever prank we would attempt. How frustrating it was to undertake these endeavors only for them to be covered up or countered by the college staff. We had to come up with something more diabolical. (These days I use my creative powers for good. Mostly. I am a dad of three kids, so there’s still some mischief.)

In our last month of senior year, a group of us decided that in order to have a bigger impact, we had to do something that would overwhelm the ability of the cleanup crew to quickly return things to normal. We decided that to get the largest percentage of the student body to see our handiwork, we would target the campus chapel on one of the nights before a chapel session would be held the next morning.

Coincidentally, all of us had work/study jobs as a way to pick up a little money. One of us had a job as a janitor somewhere on the campus. I don’t remember if it was a little at a time or if it was all at once, but one guy snuck a garbage bag full of toilet paper rolls that would be used to TP the chapel. Considering how precious a commodity toilet paper has been over the past few months, this seems like it could be considered a felony today. It also lends some insight into the truth behind why tuition prices keep going up so much.

I didn’t have an appreciation for how wasteful this was until recently

I was still very busy with things to do, but on this occasion I figured out a way to get stuff done while being a part of this prank. We had recently returned from an eventful club whitewater rafting trip, and I wanted to record many of the details in a journal before I forgot them. (You can read about some of those adventures here and here.) Between classwork, activities, studying for finals, and winding down my final college semester, I didn’t have time to effectively capture those memories. I even recorded more of those trip details while sitting onstage during Baccalaureate and graduation.

For this prank, I was going to be the lookout, with a walkie-talkie, who journaled during the dull parts. This was a unique situation, because although two of us had walkie-talkies (the lookout and one of the TPers), I would be the only one talking. I ended up using different voices to pretend to be a couple of different people on the radio who were playing some kind of game nearby, and we had established certain words ahead of time to indicate how safe it was to participate in the hooliganism. The guy on the other radio would listen to my babblings, keeping an ear out for these code words.

I sat at a spot where I could see most of the entrances to the chapel, and saw the pranksters moving one or two at a time toward the door they’d arranged to enter. A few of them carried garbage bags. They got inside and got to work. I think someone else heard my radio’s transmissions though, because a few people showed up in the area looking like they expected to find someone. A security guard eventually made his rounds, and even stopped to chat with me. I’m sure it was unusual, though probably not the weirdest thing he’s seen, to find a college student writing in a book in the dark. He probably put two and two together the next day, but we didn’t get caught that night. I gave the TPers as much time as I could to do their thing, but little things kept adding up, and I eventually gave the signal to scram.

We all met back up afterwards, and the TPers were very enthusiastic about the feat they’d accomplished. I didn’t get to see the final results of their work, but they told me they’d been running around up in the catwalks and loft, tossing TP through the chandeliers and other hard-to-reach places for all they were worth. “Man, they won’t have it all cleaned up for a week!”

I don’t know if I ever looked forward to a chapel session so much. The next day as I walked into the chapel, there was no sign whatsoever that Team TP had even been there.

Thwarted again.

Class of 2020, pranks may not have been at the top of your to-do list, but you probably didn’t get to do all the things you wanted to do before your last day of in-person class. That’s not the end for you, though. As you move into your next phase of life you’ll have setbacks and you’ll have triumphs, but the most important thing will be for you to keep plugging away, even…no…especially if there’s more “rough” than “smooth.” I believe you can do it, and that this will shape your outlook even after things pick back up again. Good luck, God bless, and best wishes as you make the most of the opportunities you encounter.

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Fortune Favors the Prepared

A college buddy and I took the opportunity in February of 2002 to drive from New York to Utah in order to attend the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City.

Bobsledding is one of the hallmarks of the Winter Olympics, and it’s fun to see. Since the track is so expensive to install and maintain, however, organizers sought other ways to make use of the venue. That’s partly how the sport of luge came to be an Olympic event. Luge athletes lay belly-up on a one-person sled and go sliding feet first down the track. (Then somebody thought it would be a good idea to put two people on one of these tiny sleds.)

  • Bobsled
  • Luge
  • Luge doubles

The 2002 Olympics saw the introduction of a new sport that used the same track: Skeleton. This is an event where an athlete runs down the track as fast as they can, then dives onto a tiny sled. Once on the sled, the competitor is laying on their belly, flying head first down the track with their chin just a few inches off the ice. Of the three different sports that use this venue, Skeleton competitors seem least concerned with clinging to sanity.

Photo courtesy of NBC

We didn’t attend any of the Skeleton runs while in Salt Lake City, but during out time there we were well aware of what happened in the Skeleton competition. Everywhere we went, there were magazines and newspapers (when those were still popular) with American Jim Shea on the cover. He showed up in the highlights of just about every Olympic video we saw for the rest of those games. If I’m not mistaken, Jim was America’s first third-generation Olympian; both his grandfather and father competed in Winter Olympic events in their day. Jim actually won gold in Skeleton that year.

If you saw Jim without knowing anything about him, you’d probably have no idea that he was an Olympian. He looked like he could be your next-door neighbor or some guy that you see in church. He didn’t look terribly athletic. There were a few qualities he had, though, that helped him win this event. When it came to competing in Skeleton, Jim Shea possessed intensity, passion, and drive.

In no way do I want to sound like I’m diminishing the athleticism of Skeleton competitors. The biggest athletic output that occurs during a Skeleton run takes place at the beginning, when the competitor sprints down the track and jumps onto the sled. For the rest of the run beyond that, it’s focus and body control; leaning this way or that way, sometimes grazing the ice with a toe to make a small correction, all while trying to control breathing on a sled that’s flying down a track at up to 80 mph.

Jim Shea approached his Olympic run with ferocity. He wasn’t a “hope for the best” kind of guy. I later saw a picture of him that demonstrated how he approached the run that earned him a gold medal, and that image stuck with me:

This is a man that knew where he wanted to go, knew what he needed to do in order to get there, and focused all of his mental and physical resources so that he had the best chance of succeeding during his single opportunity to make it happen. While people have all different kinds of personalities and some will never be as driven as others to succeed in their goals, it’s the quality and type of preparation and planning they put into it that will help drive their success.

In the future you may only get one shot to make it happen. Are you preparing for success in achieving your goals, or are you just hoping for the best?

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You’ve Made Your Bed, Now Sleep in it

Your decisions have consequences, but don’t let those consequences put limits on you.        

In college I majored in Biology, but I went the first three semesters without identifying what I wanted to focus my studies on.

You can get through your college experience that way, but I wouldn’t advise it. The best part about this route was the blissful ignorance of those first three semesters. I attended a Christian liberal arts college, where as a part of the degree requirements, each student had to complete courses from a wide array of educational topics to round out his or her knowledge base. In those early semesters in college I took courses in anything from Biblical Literature to Psychology to Math to Spanish to Ethics to Macroeconomics to Tennis.

I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize it, but after awhile I figured out that I was running out of these “Gen Eds” to take. I needed to figure out how to fill the remaining five semesters. In an epiphany, I began to understand that I needed to figure out what I wanted to declare for my major. I ended up selecting Biology with an Environmental Emphasis.

As you can imagine, if you want to major in a science, it means you’ll need to take lots of science courses. That’s not a bad thing as long as you start on them right away, but if you wait to get started on them, like I did, it means you’re living, eating, and breathing science classes later on.

After my realization I worked with my faculty adviser to figure out how to make it work. I was a Bio major, but didn’t get signed up for the most basic of biology classes until halfway through my second year. Then I signed up for a four-week summer Bio course with class all morning and lab work all afternoon, Monday through Friday. (My brain nearly melted during that class. I was an average student that just finished my Sophomore year, and most of the other students in the course were Freshmen honors students that had spent a semester abroad and now just needed to catch up.)

Junior year was also packed with science classes, but I still managed to “kick the can down the road” with one of the key requirements for a Biology major: two semesters’ worth of Chemistry. By the time I began Senior year and started getting into Chemistry, I realized that I was in over my head. I couldn’t stand Chemistry. The professors were great, but I had a terrible time grasping a lot of the material. I had waited until my last two semesters to take two semesters of Chemistry. There would be no withdrawing from the class to arrange a more convenient courseload.

It was already a busy year…I had a Senior Seminar to deliver, I was the Vice President of the Paddle Sports club, I had a few work/study jobs, a buddy and I were getting ready to drive out to the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, I had a weekly workout routine at the gym, and there was general fun to be had (after all, it was Senior year!).

Even with all I had going on, my whole senior year began to revolve around how I could pass Chemistry. I skipped out on some pranks or outings that would have been fun to be a part of. There was a study group that I started attending each time it met. I linked up with one of the Chemistry Majors, who never seemed to sleep, for help on my homework when I was frustrated and at the end of my rope. With plenty of patience he walked me through each problem. Joel, if you’re out there, thanks for all your help! You saved my bacon!

After all of the craziness and mental anguish, I finally passed both semesters of Chemistry. Never was I so happy to complete two classes.

I whine about it, but this was a crisis of my own making. Because of the choices I made, I backed myself into a corner and made my path to success much more difficult. Here’s the tie-in: even when you become a Christian, your problems don’t go away. God loves you and forgives you if you’re truly sorry, but you must still live with the consequences of your past actions.

Becoming a Christian does not remove all the pain and agony you face. In some ways it makes things more difficult. The good news is that a relationship with Christ gives you hope and strength to face each day, even when each day has repercussions of your previous actions.

As one of God’s chosen, He provides what you need to overcome each obstacle. You may have made your circumstances more complex, but He’s the one that is able to supply for all of your needs. Christianity is not an escape from your problems; it is an opportunity to have hope when facing them. Consider that as you work toward becoming the person He wants you to be.

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God Wants You Dead

When I was in college I took classes in Outdoor Leadership, which included developing skills in both technical areas and in leading individuals and teams toward outcomes. One day our class was learning about how to properly set rope anchors for rock climbing. Obviously, it’s very important that your equipment catches you if you fall off a rock face, so our instructor was teaching us how to secure the safety rope to a number of anchors we had established at the top of the cliff.

The instructor, Kevin, demonstrated a variety of ways to attach safety equipment to boulders and trees at the top. He made a point to emphasize that we’d need to establish three solid anchors before being able to proceed. “That way, if one of them fails, you’ve still got two. Even if two of them fail, you’ll still have one more.”

Of course, someone asked the question. “What if this one goes, that one fails, and the other one goes, too?”

Kevin looked at him, confused. “You mean if all three of them fail?”

“Yeah.”

“Then God wants you dead.”

When you have a God-given task laid out in front of you, it’s certainly a good thing to spend time planning and preparing, but there comes a point where you’re prepared enough and it’s time to get moving. Kevin didn’t want us to establish four anchors, or five. Three was enough. The chances of all three anchors failing was so low that setting more of them would have been a waste of time. If we spent time focusing on more than three, that time took away from our actual reason for showing up at the cliff that day.

It’s possible to take so many safety precautions that it becomes too cumbersome to do anything. There comes a point at which you are suitably prepared, reasonable precautions have been taken, and you’re ready to leave the comfortable behind. The only thing that remains is for you to take action.

By all means plan effectively. Expect problems and make backup plans if necessary, but don’t let perpetual planning stop you from getting started. If all the necessary pieces are in place, it might be that you are the only thing holding you back. What are you waiting for?