Consider this paragraph a brief public service announcement: The major news outlets seem to have perfected the art of presenting lots of material that evokes powerful emotions without giving many facts. That being the case, I’d encourage you to limit the amount of time you spend watching the news (if it’s important enough, you’ll find out about it). I’m not encouraging ignorance, I’m simply noting that when there are few facts to present, you don’t need all the conjecture that gets you amped up in the process. If anxiety is a problem for you, I can just about guarantee this will help you out. Anyway, I thought I’d take this opportunity to share something a little more lighthearted.
My wife is one of four sisters, all of whom are married. At one point three of those sisters were married to men in the Air Force. As you might imagine, Uncle Sam has a way of scattering military folks around the country (and sometimes the globe). As a result, it’s not easy to arrange family get-togethers where everyone is present, and sometimes we can go for years without seeing certain family members in person.
When we found out one of my far-flung brothers-in-law was going to be flying through our area on his way to a deployment overseas, we decided to go meet him on his last layover before leaving the states. The logistics weren’t going to work out to bring him back to our place, so we collectively decided we’d go hang out at a mall near the airport and go out to eat while we were together. Some malls are great for sitting around and relaxing while others aren’t. We weren’t familiar with this mall, so after we picked him up from the airport we just sort of showed up at the mall and started walking around.
At the time we had two young kiddos who were generally well-behaved, but they would only stay happy for so long unless we found something to keep them occupied. We figured there had to be a play place around somewhere nearby, but for some reason the mall directory in this particular mall was very difficult to find. We found a spot with games and flashing lights that would keep the kids occupied for a little while, then my brother-in-law and I parted ways with my wife and kids and set out looking either for a playground or a mall directory.
We turned past a few corners and walked down a few hallways, but still couldn’t find anything helpful. Mindful that the clock was ticking and that walking around a mall like this was probably not going to make the start of a deployment any less stressful, I decided to go against the male instinct and ask for directions.
I spotted a mall cop standing on one of those motorized Segues. I didn’t think about it until after the words came out of my mouth, but I probably got us onto mall security’s radar screen. If you were a mall cop, what would you think if two thirty-something dudes with military haircuts and generally humorless demeanors walk up to you and say “hey man, where do the kids hang out in this mall?”
I haven’t been back to that mall since then, but if I did, I wouldn’t be surprised if I were tailed by my own personal mall cop soon after being identified.
Strange story, I know. Just meant to give you a chuckle. Anyway, it’s rough out there these days, but don’t let that steal your joy in Christ. Your joy in Christ is one of the things that will attract nonbelievers to the light you have inside you, especially during difficult times. Don’t let stuff get you down, because in times like this, your joy shines bright, and people need that right now.
Take care of yourselves and take care of each other.
Exiting an aircraft with Tony and his very recognizable jumpsuit
I’m certainly no skydiving guru. While I was a skydiving student, though, I had a few memorable jumps. I’m not sure what the requirement is now, but when I was working on getting my A License (the most basic jumping certification), the rule was that you had to accumulate at least 25 jumps and meet certain milestones along the way.
I was in the plane on the way up for my 23rd jump. The weather was turning sour, so this was the drop zone’s last load of jumpers for at least a few hours. We saw the cloud bank rolling in, and we were trying to rush up to altitude so we could jump out and land before the clouds obscured our view of the ground.
Another student named Jeremy and I were going to jump with our coach Tony. Tony was pretty familiar with us and we had all jumped together before. He wore a neon orange jumpsuit that was so bright it looked like it ran on batteries.
On a jump with Tony as my coach
I don’t remember what the freefall objectives of the jump were, but once we arrived at altitude we hopped out together and began going through our freefall plan. We fell through our predetermined “time to separate” altitude, so we broke apart to get some distance between us before we opened our parachutes. All three of us opened the chutes without a problem, but much to our surprise, the cloud cover had blown in much faster than we anticipated. We couldn’t see the ground anywhere. The only thing we had were our altimeters; we knew how high we were off the ground, but we didn’t know where we were in relation to the airport, so we couldn’t line up in our landing pattern. Since the wind was pushing us the whole time, the longer we floated aimlessly, the further off course we drifted, leaving us less margin of error for a safe landing at the airport.
Since Jeremy and I were still students, each of us had a one-way radio in our jumpsuit shoulder pockets. There was a guy on the ground with a walkie talkie that was waiting to spot us, and he would radio instructions about which way to turn and when to do it. Until we popped through the clouds though, it was useless for all of us.
Tony took the lead; he was the lowest jumper “under canopy,” so I followed him, and Jeremy followed me. I was glad Tony’s jumpsuit was so bright. It was eerie and unsettling to drift without direction in a thick fog. The last time we saw the airport, we were right over it, but the wind can be a lot stronger than you realize when you don’t have any visible references.
Suddenly we popped through the bottom of the clouds at a low altitude. The airport was impossibly far away! We had bled off so much altitude in the fog that there was no way we could make it back. Tony’s canopy had a much higher performance capability, so he made a break for the airport and was able to make it back. With our “vanilla” student rigs and oversized canopies, though, Jeremy and I had no chance of reaching the airport.
The dropzone where I learned to jump was home to the Guinness World Record holder of sport parachute jumps. Don Kellner, who just recently completed his 45,000th jump, was on the radio giving instructions to Jeremy and I. Don’s a funny guy; he doesn’t pull any punches, so he says it like it is and doesn’t sugar coat it.
“Well…find a place to land” came through the radio. Thanks Don.
We had blown way off course. We were now downwind not just of the runway, but of the entire airport complex, and we had a choice: land somewhere in a neighborhood, land somewhere in a wooded area, or land in a big rock quarry. Don advised us to shoot for the quarry.
When you’re a novice jumper, you usually have a flat patch of grass that’s as big as a football field to land on, and there’s usually plenty of other open space nearby (runways and the grassy areas next to them are usually pretty long). All of a sudden, a hilly rock quarry that didn’t have any wind indicators seemed like a pretty hostile place to land. It was the best of our bad options though, so we went for it.
With Tony out of the picture, I was now the lead in the flight pattern. I made a series of turns to get us lined up for what looked like the longest stretch of the flattest ground at the bottom of the quarry. We floated below the horizon and became committed to our flight path.
We both stumbled and took a few bumps and bruises as we tried running out our landings on the side of a hill. We made it safely to the ground without any blood or major injuries. After the canopies fell to the ground, we excitedly checked in with each other and exaggerated to each other just how truly awesome we were with lots of laughs, wild gestures to help relive the experience, and congratulatory slaps on the back. As we took a deep breath and looked around the bottom of this hole, we realized that we didn’t even know which way we should start climbing up out of the quarry. With all the midair turns we did, we lost all sense of direction and couldn’t even point to the airport or the nearest road.
Something tells me that we weren’t the first wayward skydivers to land in this quarry. Before we could even decide what to do, two of our other instructors, in their goofy neon jumpsuits, appeared on the rim of the quarry, shouting and waving to us. We were rescued!
Some general perspective on living: Life isn’t always going to go the way you planned. There are going to be times you find yourself traveling through a disorienting fog. Sometimes you’ll feel abandoned by the people you depended on (or you simply can’t keep up with them). In those times, when you’re at the bottom of a hole, someone might just show up to help you. They may not be what you expected, but it’s still an opportunity to find out which way to climb out of the hole.
We’re passing through strange times; it might not be a bad idea to accept a hand up when it’s offered. Keep your chin up; brighter days are coming.
I’ve got three kids. It’s fun to watch them grow, figure stuff out, and then teach each other the things they’ve picked up over time.
My older two have figured out that when they’re scared of doing something, whether it’s go down in the basement or knock on a neighbor’s door, it’s usually not as bad if they take someone along with them. As a result, their little sister often ends up going down in the basement or knocking on a neighbor’s door along with them.
Taking it a step further, the two older kids are downright brave if they’re watching out for their little sister, even if it’s something that ordinarily gives them the willies.
Ever notice how you tend to be more brave if you’re watching out for someone? You can more easily pull yourself together in a bad situation when someone else depends on you. When someone else relies on you, it takes you out of yourself, and you can rise above your fears.
There are a lot of very anxious people out there these days. If you’re one of them, the first thing I’d probably recommend is to ease back on the amount of news coverage you take in. News reports aren’t known for their soothing nature. Beyond that, though, consider mentoring someone or helping them through the unique circumstances in which we now find ourselves. If you’re focused on helping someone else get through a difficult time, you spend less time worrying about how you are going to make it.
Don’t get me wrong, take care of yourself first. What I’m talking about is the extra time and energy you might waste worrying. I’ve heard it said that worrying is like rocking in a rocking chair; it gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.
If you’re prone to excess worry, take a look around and see who you can help settle. It’s going to be okay, but in order for some folks to believe that, they might need to hear it from you.
I’ve done two tandem jumps (where you’re connected to a licensed instructor) and 75 solo jumps. I’ve taken off in a plane 77 more times than I’ve landed in one. Cumulatively I’ve racked up just over 51 minutes of freefall.
To those that have never jumped, that might sound like a lot. For those in the know, though, it’s not that impressive. Seventy seven jumps is enough to know what you’re doing, but it’s nothing to brag about.
Contrast that with Don Kellner. He’s one of the owners of the drop zone where I learned to skydive, and is the Guinness World Record holder for most sport parachute jumps. In 2019 Don made his 45,000th jump! He probably doesn’t even remember the last time he landed in a plane.
I can’t find Don’s cumulative freefall total anywhere, but if you can measure mine in minutes, his can probably be measured in days or weeks. He’s performed over 10,000 tandem jumps; if he got 30 seconds of freefall for each one of those, that’s nearly three and a half days of his life he’s spent falling to the earth with someone else connected to his harness. The time he’s spent steering his parachute to the ground is in addition to that. Between plane rides up, freefalls, and parachute rides down, Don’s probably spent more than a year of his life off the ground.
Don and his team turn in his log books to make the record official after every thousandth jump, but in reality every jump Don Kellner makes is a new world record. Nobody has jumped as many times as him; every jump he makes is an endeavor nobody else has ever undertaken. Every single one is unprecedented.
I asked him once if any jump sticks out in his mind more than others, or if he ever had any especially dangerous problems during a jump. He recalled one jump where he tried to deploy his main chute, but when he tried, nothing happened. He then pulled the handle to open his reserve chute. Nothing happened then, either. Hurtling toward the earth without any functioning parachute, Don Kellner resigned himself to his fate. God must have smiled on him that day though, because one of the chutes shook loose and opened on its own, allowing Don to live to tell the tale.
He’s famous for not making a big deal of any particular jump. The folks around him have staged big events to commemorate big, round-number jumps, but leading up to it he always waves off the extra attention and says “just another jump.” It’s important to remember that jump number 45,000 could not have happened without jump number 26,373, without jump 999, or without jump 12.
Like Don, you and I lead lives that are record-setting in their own way. God calls us to a life of service in His honor. No two lives are the same. Each act of service we perform on Christ’s behalf, whether it’s something we’ve never done before or is the 45,000th time we’ve done the same thing, is unprecedented.
Also like Don, we don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to do the things God’s called us to do and what number “jump” will be our last. Sometimes we’re a part of doing something for God that’s surrounded by more fanfare, but most of the time our obedience is tied to things that are relatively unspectacular and rely on our regular faithfulness day after day.
That brings us to today. Each day we wake up presents opportunities to live for and honor God. Right now we live in very unusual times, which means we can collectively be faithful in ways we normally aren’t. I don’t know what that looks like for all of us, but you might already have a pretty good idea of how you can do the work God’s calling you to do.
Quarantines, social distancing, stay-at-home orders, and all the other recent buzz words result in a new (hopefully temporary) version of what we consider normal. There are a lot of lonely, confused, and/or scared people out there. In order to radiate God’s love during times of this “new normal,” we may need to take unprecedented steps to deliver it. From now until COVID-19 is a thing of the past, every day in a sense is a record-breaker in terms of the actions we take. We…you…are breaking new ground here, every day. Take the precautions you need to (and in some cases have been mandated to do), and within those parameters, have a look at practical new ways to love your neighbor.
And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ -Matthew 25:40
I don’t know if you or
I are going to make it through this COVID-19 thing. I bet that we will, though.
How do Christians band together in a time of social distancing and self-quarantines? It’s an interesting question, and it’s going to take some innovative thinking. This is where the world needs your help.
Ordinarily the term
“disruptive” has a negative connotation. “He’s disruptive in class,” etc.
That’s not the only meaning of the word, thankfully. “Disruption” can also mean
an upsetting of established norms in such a way that it forces a new norm. It’s
what happened when motorized vehicles replaced horses. Digital cameras replaced
film cameras. Cell phones took over for landlines. Amazon.com came on the scene
and drove a lot of brick and mortar stores out of business. The people behind
these seismic shifts are known as “disruptors.”
Coronavirus has
certainly upended large portions of our lives and caused us to have to readjust
in major ways. Schools and colleges are all of a sudden shutting their doors
for the rest of the year. Churches are canceling in-person services. Bible studies
and prayer meetings can no longer meet in the traditional sense.
People don’t usually
like change. Well, this time around, a virus is forcing change on us all.
Things are changing so fast that we don’t yet have established “norms” in the
wake of this pandemic. For a lot of folks a major burden of our new reality is
the loneliness and lack of in-person human contact.
We were created to be
social beings. It’s simply how God made us. Some people need social interaction
a lot more than others, but we all need it to some degree. When we’re suddenly
unable to socialize in the ways to which we’re accustomed, it’s a major shock
for a lot of folks. As Christians, we’re often reminded in scripture to meet
together regularly, to “do life” together, and build one another up.
How do we do that when
we can’t meet in person? I’ve watched church on my computer for the past two
Sundays. I heard recently about a church that held a service at a drive-in
movie theater. I think that’s a fantastic idea, but those facilities are not as
common as they once were.
This is where you come
in. I’m challenging you to think like a disruptor. Because this is an actual
problem the world currently faces, I’d really like to encourage you to provide
comments here. Here’s your challenge:
How can people still meet together to build one
another up without physically being closer than six feet?
Technology is a mixed
bag. Now we can have meetings without even being near the other attendees. You
have Zoom, Facetime, and Skype, and those are incredibly valuable tools in some
respects. Connecting two users isn’t difficult, but it gets a little more
complicated if you want to have a dozen people in the same meeting. Also, when
you’re stuck in your home, it’s a poor substitute if you’re facing anxiety or
depression (to be sure, it’s better than nothing!). What other ways can we
leverage technology to decrease isolation? Please post your thoughts!
The phone also works.
I’m talking about actual voice calls. Everyone has phones, but nobody calls
anymore. For some people, chatting on the phone versus sending an email or text
goes a long way.
Then you have in-person
meetings. These days I yell to my neighbors from across the street. It doesn’t
quite have to be that far, but if you want to honor the authorities’ guidelines
of having meetings no larger than 10 people, no closer than six feet together,
is there a way to make that happen feasibly? This might be a ridiculous mental
image, but it’s a thought-prompt; is there a way to have a dozen people sit
close together by building little plexiglass “cells” (imagine a scene from a TV
show or movie where someone is visiting someone else in prison)? What if a
dozen cars came together in a circle in an otherwise empty church parking lot
and everyone on the driver’s side of the car rolled down their windows to have
a discussion? (That circle is probably a little too big and everyone would need
hearing aids and megaphones, but can we make the idea work somehow?)
I don’t know what the
answer is, I’m just trying to get the creative juices going. Right now
Christians (and non-Christians, for that matter) need ways of meeting together
and helping each other up after they fall or get knocked down. A lot has
happened, and a lot of change has been forced on us. How can we implement
change on our own to make this situation a little more bearable, especially for
the people that need to be around other people?
“How does my idea
help?” Well, you’re reading this, aren’t you? I don’t normally have a huge readership, but you’re not the only
one that reads this. Your idea, even if it’s incomplete, can spark an idea for
someone else. Let’s say you have no ideas. That’s okay, you can still help
crack the code on this problem. Will you pass this entry on, either by
forwarding it to someone or sharing it on your social media?
You
are a string, but we are a rope. We WILL get through this…maybe
in part by using your ideas.
The November after I
graduated college, I took an adventure trip to Australia. One of the parts of
the trip I was most excited about was the trip out to the Great Barrier Reef. I
had never been scuba diving before, and the Great Barrier Reef was like, legendary
from everything I’d heard. During this portion of the trip we all got on a boat
that took us miles from shore, and we stayed out there for two overnights.
The crew operating the
dive tour took us to several different locations known to be good diving spots.
Once they securely anchored the boat at a given dive site, we waited for a
designated time window before we could go in the water. Safety observers needed
to be in position, and we needed to receive a dive brief where we learned about
the features of the area, where to avoid, can’t-miss sites, and what depth
limits we should not break. During this leg of my Australian trip, I had the
opportunity to do about a dozen trips into the water, either snorkeling or
scuba diving.
For those of us that
were not scuba certified on this trip, we could pay a bit extra on some of the
outings and a staff member would teach us enough to get by, and would be our
dive buddy and personal guide during that particular dive. I wasn’t going to
come all the way to Australia and NOT go scuba diving on the Great Barrier
Reef. Since it wasn’t cheap though, I got a good mix of scuba dives and regular
snorkeling.
The reef was an amazing
thing to see, especially the amount and variety of life that lived there. The
reef itself sounded like it was fizzing and popping. When snorkeling, I would
hold my breath and dive down to get a closer look at some of the gorgeous
sites. While snorkeling, there was so much to see, even if you only dove down a
few feet. I started diving down more than a few feet, though. Equipped with flippers,
I was able to swim deep a little easier than normal. The more you do it, the
more your body gets used to it. A few times I dove down deep enough to be on
the same level as some of the divers.
On our last day at sea,
our last dive was coming up, and I was going to spend this dive snorkeling. We
all got into the water and started going our separate ways. I was kind of
swimming around aimlessly when I noticed a very large concrete block down on
the sea floor. It was one of the weights our boat anchored to. It was pretty
far down there. I decided I was going to try to get all the way down to it.
The first time I tried,
I started swimming straight down just to see how far I could comfortably go. I
wore a wetsuit that provided some buoyancy, and lungs full of air also helped
keep me afloat. The deeper I went though, the more the water pressure
compressed everything, so the buoyancy of my lungs and suit had less effect. I
gave it a half-hearted shot, but got nowhere near my goal before I turned
around and swam back to the surface.
I recovered on the
surface for awhile, but wanted to try again. I took a few quick, deep breaths,
and then surged straight down again. I kicked hard, driving deeper. I got much
closer to the block on the floor, but started getting concerned about not
having enough air to make it back, so again I turned around early and headed
up. Coming up from the depths has the opposite effect of going deep; your
buoyancy increases as you get closer to the surface. As I got shallower, I
could feel myself rising through the water more quickly, even if I slowed my
kicking.
I spent some more time
resting and letting my breathing return to normal before making another shot
without holding anything back. I did the quick breathing thing again and dove
hard with the most air I could possibly fit into my lungs. Again, I swam hard
straight down, pushing back more firmly against the nerves and survival
instinct the deeper I went. The block on the ocean floor became larger and
larger, and as I drew nearer I became more determined to reach it. It was
almost within my reach!
Finally, after a swim
straight down and what seemed like forever, I reached the block on the ocean
floor. With a major sense of accomplishment, I flipped over and placed my feet
on the block. I took a moment to look down at my feet on the concrete, then to
look around at this place I had fought so hard to get to.
Then I looked up. If we
could go back and see what I looked like, we’d probably see the color drain
from my face. On a free dive, being the deepest you’ve ever been also means
that you are physically the furthest away from oxygen that you’ve ever been.
Never, either before or since, have I seen such a large aquatic distance that I
had to cover so quickly. I became so focused on reaching my goal that I lost
sight of the fact that the trip to the block was only half of the swim.
I shot off the block
and began kicking furiously. I wasn’t far off the block before my lungs started
burning. I kicked as hard as I could, and tried a few strokes with my arms, but
that almost felt like it slowed me down. Have you ever held your breath so long
that your diaphragm starts going into convulsions? It’s your body’s natural
reflex, as though it’s trying to force you to take a breath. More than halfway
up, my diaphragm started convulsing. It’s one thing if you’re sitting on the
couch seeing how long you can hold your breath, but it’s different when the
muscle controlling your lungs starts having spasms underwater, and I got
worried that I wasn’t going to make the surface without inhaling a lungful of
seawater.
As I tried to keep my
body from betraying me, I noticed that I was rushing through the water. The air
in my lungs and wetsuit had expanded enough that it was again making me
buoyant, and my buoyancy was increasing as I moved toward the surface. The
water at this point was rushing past my face, and I could feel its flow
anywhere my skin was exposed to the water. Compared to being at depth, my lungs
were now so full they felt like they were about to explode, yet the air within
them was all but used up.
I needed air so badly
that I didn’t even want to waste time exhaling after breaking the surface. With
nothing left to spare, I blew out halfway just before breaking the surface and
took the most grateful gasp of fresh air I’ve ever taken in my life. Looking
back at my notes from the trip, I estimated at the time that the concrete block
on the ocean floor was about 10-12 meters, or about 35 feet, below the surface.
My muscles were spent
from the furious swim and the lack of oxygen, and I floated there panting as my
wetsuit kept me from sinking. After resting awhile, I was able to swim back to
the boat and make it safely aboard.
Have you ever thought about how, when you feel you’re
doing everything you possibly can, and it’s still not enough, the Holy Spirit
can cover the gap? The way the wetsuit
worked is sort of the same way the Holy Spirit does; it’s there, wrapped around
you and pushing you toward where you need to go. I’ve met amazing people that
have endured unbelievable hardships that have drained them of any strength they
held in reserve. When you ask them how they got through it, their answer
usually has something to do God’s grace. It might be “peace that passes
understanding.” Hearing their story and knowing that they withstood things that
would make the average person buckle or tap out reminds me that the Holy Spirit
empowers Christ-followers with the things they need for the task at hand, even
if that task is nothing more ordinary than to make it through the day.
This isn’t just for
people with extraordinary stories, like Samson or King David; it’s for you and
I, too. When we’re in the midst of excruciating trials or facing an
insurmountable obstacle, God gives us what we need to “make it back to the
surface.” Then, when it’s all over and we’re completely spent, He’s there
keeping us afloat while we catch our breath, sustaining us long enough for us
to make it back to safety.
“Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses.
For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself
makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. Now He who
searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes
intercession for the saints according to the will of God.” Romans 8:26-27
“And when they had prayed, the place where they were
assembled together was shaken; and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit,
and they spoke the word of God with boldness.”Acts 4:31
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.
By the start of senior
year of college, most students are thinking about their last classes and life
beyond their degree. I was thinking about it being my last year to take
advantage of all the institution’s adventure sports programs.
I was into kayaking and
whitewater rafting at the time. Coming back to college at the end of summer
meant that the water in the local creeks and river was still warm. For
kayaking, that was nice, but it was also the time of year where the flow rate
was the lowest, so a lot of creeks and rivers were either too low or too slow
to be enjoyable. Thankfully, we had a solution for that.
Not far from the
college was a man-made lake with a concrete dam. The lake provided summer
boating opportunities for visitors and residents. Every year, about this time
in September, the dam operator dropped the lake’s water level roughly 10-15
feet to kill most of the shallow water algae over the winter. That way the
water in these areas the following spring and summer would stay clear of
excessive plant growth.
The faculty adviser for
the college’s paddle sports club, a guy named Tim, was in touch with the dam
operator. The operator was pretty cool about releasing the water in a time and
manner that Tim would request. If we wanted a longer, sustained flow, this guy
would accommodate us. If we wanted a bigger, shorter burst, he’d make it
happen. The two would agree on a schedule for when the release would begin, and
prior to that date’s arrival, Tim and a few other people would walk down
through the creek bed with chainsaws to clear potential obstacles. It was a custom-ordered
whitewater run!
I had only become
interested in kayaking the previous academic year. I’m not sure why, but I got
it into my head that I wanted to go over a drop in a kayak. A drop is just like
it sounds…it’s a sudden change in the elevation of the creek/river bed. It
could be a shelf that spans the whole width of the body of water you’re going
down, or maybe a formation where one side of the river has a big drop while the
other side has a more gradual slope. As it turns out, this run had a drop of
probably 4-5 feet right at the beginning…great for a first-time drop. When I
got the invite, this is the feature that sold me.
The day arrived and I
met up with a few other guys. One of them, a maintenance guy at the college,
was named Charlie. Charlie’s hobbies included woodworking and generally
“MacGyvering” things. He carved his own wooden kayak paddle. He also
fashioned a wooden bumper for his car when it needed to be replaced. His family
hosted a number of us for dinner once, and his kids showed off a system of pulleys
that allowed them to raise or lower their beds depending on whether they wanted
more floor space or to go to bed. Charlie was going to walk me through my first
drop.
We drove to the lake, geared up, and carried our boats down to the creek. We put in just downstream of the spillway, and the drop wasn’t far beyond. Charlie had walked me through the process a bit, laying out the mechanics of what needed to happen and the order in which they needed to happen. Much like I had learned years before, it was important to not reduce speed as you approach the drop.
Charlie was going to be
the first to do the drop, so I could see where to do it and how to approach it.
He worked out a signal with me before he went over the edge. A drop of 4 or 5
feet isn’t that much, but when you’re sitting in a boat that’s barely on top of
the water, your eyes are only about two feet off the surface, so it looked much
higher. After Charlie went over the edge, I wouldn’t be able to see him. Once
he was safely down and he was ready for me to proceed, he’d stick his paddle up
in the air and wave it back and forth, and that would be my “green light.”
Deciding that we were
both ready, he went for it. He started paddling and kept going, right up until
the bow of his boat dropped, his stern popped up out of the water, and he
disappeared over the edge. A few seconds followed, and then I saw one end of a hand-carved
wooden paddle stick up in the air and start waving around. It was my turn.
I went for it. I
started paddling, and got faster as I neared the shelf. As I slid over the
ledge, my boat’s bow dipped and for a fraction of a second I was in midair. The
bow then sliced deep into the water before the kayak’s buoyancy bounced it back
up to the surface. It was easier than I thought, and it was cool!
The thing that made this
part of the adventure so easy was that I had someone right there to walk me
through it. It was someone who had been through it before, who knew what to
expect, and was physically right there to help me in case I got into a jam. In
this situation, Charlie mentored me through the challenge successfully, and it
was much different than if I had been there by myself and decided to try it and
see what happened.
How about you? Do you
have a mentor that can help guide you through a situation that’s foreign and
scary to you? This life is full of unknowns, but it’s also full of people with
lots of experience that you don’t have. Don’t be afraid of taking a shortcut to
spare yourself some painful lessons by learning from others’ hard-won
experience.
Maybe you’re more like
Charlie. You’ve been around the block a few times. You see someone who’s
enthusiastic but inexperienced, and it looks like they’re in an awfully big
hurry to get themselves hurt or stuck in a bad situation. Why not see if
they’re willing to allow you to help channel that enthusiasm into something
productive? Don’t do it because you think it’ll make you look good; do it
because you can help them.
I sat in the van, more
than a little worried. Remnants of a hurricane had swollen the river to a level
that wasn’t safe for recreational canoe usage, which became painfully obvious
on our last canoe run. Earlier in the afternoon another lifeguard and I had
accompanied a group of canoers on our standard trip, but one pair of boaters
somehow managed to broadside a bridge pillar. The current was so strong that it
dumped the boaters and bent the canoe around the pillar. My boss, Allen, and I were
on our way to retrieve the “shipwrecked” canoe, and I was a teenager
that was getting less and less comfortable.
Herb, the director of
the Christian conference center where I worked, was driving us upriver. The
plan was that we’d get into a single canoe, paddle over to the spot where the bent
canoe was still pinned against the bridge pillar, and break it loose. If it was
in good enough shape, one of us would transfer to it and we’d each paddle a
canoe back home. If it was too damaged for that, we’d both remain in the same
canoe and tow the damaged one behind us.
We could see the pinned
canoe from the boat ramp. I buckled my life jacket and climbed into the front
of our canoe. Allen skipped a life jacket, but had a rescue tube (one of those
big red floats that you see pool lifeguards standing around with) wedged under
his seat. We shoved off and right away got swept into the bright brown water’s
swift current.
The river moved so
quickly that we barely had to paddle. As we approached the bridge, we started
paddling backwards to slow ourselves down. We slowed down perfectly, turned so
we were parallel with the pinned canoe, and gently bumped up against it. A
perfect docking.
The problem was the current
was moving so quickly that when it crashed against the bridge pillar and the two
canoes, it pillowed up and created undercurrents that we couldn’t see or
anticipate. Even though we sat completely still in relation to the shore, the
water churned and frothed angrily beneath us as the river pounded the keel
relentlessly. Our boat shuddered, then flipped over, dumping us both upstream.
That water was flowing hard. I didn’t even have time to be
pinned against the canoe; I got dumped in and immediately got swept under the
boat. I was able to get a hand onto the side of the boat, and hung onto it with
one hand, and held the paddle in the other. I was laid out horizontally,
completely underwater, flapping in the current like a flag on a windy day.
I had no idea where
Allen was or what his status was. He had probably safely cleared everything and
was downstream by now, but maybe he had managed to hang on somehow. In the
event that he was still there somewhere, I needed to get into a position where
we could make something happen. I needed to breathe, but if I let go, not only
would I be unable to help Allen with recovering the canoe, but the attempt
would be over because he’d have to abandon the recovery effort and come after
me. Still horizontal underwater, I tried to do a chin-up so I could get my face
out of the water enough to catch a breath and maybe see where Allen was, but
the current was so strong I couldn’t do it. I think I tried again, probably
with both hands this time, but it still wasn’t working. With no choice (and not
knowing how long it would be before the river let me get to the surface), I let
go and got flung into the current, now at the whim of the river.
Honestly, when I
surfaced, I expected to see Allen downriver. When I came up though, I didn’t
see him. I turned and looked upriver, but didn’t see him there, either. I couldn’t
see him anywhere. The only place he could be was still with the canoe, somewhere
underwater.
The current pushed me
into the eddy behind the pillar, but I was about to be carried out of it. Once
I left the eddy, there would be no chance of getting back upstream. Allen was
in the process of drowning about 20 feet away from me; I swam with everything I
had, but I barely got anywhere.
While I was still
fighting to get upstream, he popped through the surface. I found out later that
the strap to the rescue tube wedged under his seat had somehow wrapped around
his leg, so even though he wasn’t hanging onto the canoe at all, the canoe was
hanging onto him. He had been dangling by his knee at the end of a strap,
batted around underwater without any way of getting air. It must’ve been his
guardian angel that shook the rescue tube loose from under his seat.
Just relieved that we
were both alive, my sense of humor returned. While we were still drifting
downstream, I asked him “well, do you want to try again?” Thankfully
he said “uh, no.” We were able to swim to shore and get out of the
water, but we were down another
canoe.
What would’ve happened
if Allen’s rescue tube hadn’t come loose? Could I have made it far enough
upstream to be able to help him at all? If it meant I would exhaust myself, what
should I have done, considering I’d probably still need a good reserve of strength
if we both needed to rely on me to get out of the jam we were still in? Thankfully,
I didn’t have the chance to think of any of this at the time. Allen bobbed to
the surface before I had time to think about it.
This event helped put
things in perspective for me. In this life, there are things you can control
and there are things you can’t. When you can’t handle it, God will take care of
it. If the only way out of a situation is via something that’s beyond you, there’s
only so much you can bring to the table, and you have to rely on Him for the
rest. Life has countless opportunities for you to bear witness to the fact that
you’re not in control as much as you like to think you are. Every day brings
new challenges, and a lot of them need God-sized help to overcome.
It’s important to remember that if God hands you an
assignment that you’re totally confident that you’ll be able to accomplish, the
task just might be too small. By all means do
it, but recognize that if it’s something you can handle on your own, there’s
not much room for God to be glorified. On the other hand, if you get to be part
of something that you could in no way have accomplished on your own, it’s
harder to take the credit for it. I give all the credit to God for shaking
Allen loose and granting us overall safety that day, and pray that recounting
this story glorifies Him further.
(Also, hypothetically,
if you ever find yourself in a similar situation with shipwrecked canoes, don’t
forget to call the local fire/rescue folks and let them know that everyone’s
safe and accounted for. Otherwise, someone will eventually report two canoes
pinned against a bridge, the rescue team will get all kinds of excited, and
then they’ll let you have an earful when they find out what actually happened
and that you didn’t fill them in.)
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This week’s posts took place at roughly this time one July. I got certified as a lifeguard very late in the summer when I was 15, so I didn’t get much experience actually working on duty that year. The next summer was different.
The Christian conference
center where I worked not only had two pools that needed lifeguards, but it
also conducted waterfront activities on the Delaware River. It had a boat that
guests could use for waterskiing and tubing, but it also did a lot of
“canoe runs.” A canoe run was where someone on staff drove guests a
few miles upriver and dropped them off with canoes, along with a lifeguard to
guide the group. This stretch of river was mostly flat, but did have a few sets
of progressively choppier or rougher rapids that helped break up the monotony.
Canoe runs usually occurred four or five days a week, many times twice a day.
As a result, the lifeguards became very familiar with the river and where they
might encounter trouble spots or submerged obstacles. They almost never went
more than a few days without being on the river, except for once each summer.
There’s a week every
summer where the organization’s program offerings change, and it does not offer
any waterfront activities. During this particular summer’s no-river-activities
week, the remnants of a hurricane blew through our area. It rained hard for a
few days that week, swelling streams and tributaries locally and for miles upstream
of us. The water level rose and the current quickened many times over as that
water made its way into the river.
For the first canoe run
of the following week, plenty of people were excited to go. Recognizing that
the river had risen substantially, an extra lifeguard went on this trip. I was
one of them. Things started out uneventfully, but we were still within sight of
the boat ramp when something very unexpected happened.
Here’s the bridge, with the supporting pillars. The one in question is the one right over this guy’s shoulder.
Soon after the put-in
point there’s a bridge that crosses the river. The bridge is built for vehicles,
so its pillars are pretty solid. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I
think the two men in one of the canoes were trying to get past one of the
columns and got surprised by how swift the current was moving. They somehow
ended up slamming broadside into the pillar. The current was so strong that the
impact dumped both people into the river and the force of the water physically
wrapped the canoe around the upstream side of the pillar.
With the current moving
so quickly, everyone else who had not
hit a bridge went flying past the site of the impact. The other lifeguard and I,
still a little stunned that someone had actually run into the only thing they
could have possibly hit, spun our canoe around and began paddling upstream as
hard as we could, but it was all we could do to not lose any further ground to
the current. Just about all of the other canoes did the same thing, but with varying
degrees of success. The two guys that got dumped in the water didn’t quite know
what to do, and were stuck in the eddy downstream of the pillar. Everyone
paddling hard was getting tired, so we had to shout to the guys to start
swimming downstream, out of the eddy, so we could reach them. They did, and we
eventually reached them and placed them in two of the remaining canoes.
This all happened
within sight of where we put the canoes into the water. We still had almost
three miles to go! I started worrying about all kinds of things. “What are
the rapids gonna look like?” “If the current’s moving this fast, is
our whole group going to be able to make land if they all arrive at our
destination at the same time?” “How do I tell my boss I lost a
canoe?”
The rest of the trip
wasn’t nearly as eventful as what I feared. The river was so high that the
rapids no longer existed, and the current moved so quickly that we made it
downstream in record time. It was a struggle at the end, but we were able to
get everyone back on land at the right spot. After counting heads and
accounting for all of the gear (minus one boat and a few paddles), it was time
to go tell the boss.
You might remember Allen from an earlier post. He’s the guy that recruited me into lifeguard training. He was in charge of all the recreational activities, and he was the guy I needed to tell. Allen’s the kind of guy that usually has the same facial expression whether he’s happy, sad, conflicted, ecstatic, flabbergasted, or thinking about a baloney sandwich.
“Dude, Al! We lost
a canoe! These guys hit one of the bridge pillars, the canoe wrapped around it,
they got dumped out, we picked ’em up and made it back, and as far as I know,
the canoe’s still there, stuck on the bridge!”
He just kind of stood
there and blinked at me, digesting what he just heard. He asked me a few
clarification questions, paused to think for a few moments, and then hit me
with:
“Well, let’s go
get it.”
Then it was my turn to
stand there and blink.
I should have protested
more, maybe making more of an attempt to convey the river’s strength. I was
fresh off the situation…I had just been there and seen the power of the
current, and how crazy high the water actually was. Allen knew the conditions
were much different from what they normally were, but he hadn’t been there to
witness the ease with which the river destroyed a canoe. At 16 years old,
though, I wasn’t confident enough to challenge my boss and say “I’ve been
there, I’ve seen it! You’ve gotta believe me!”
There’s a difference
between knowing something with your mind and having experienced that same thing
in person. If you follow Christ, He enables you to do things that you can’t do
without Him. The Bible talks about how we’re supposed to go out and tell the
world about Christ, being bold and taking steps forward when we can’t see
what’s in front of us. It talks about being strong and courageous, and it even
talks about how, if you’re faithful with a few things, you’ll be granted
authority over more resources so you can further demonstrate your faithfulness.
Yet it’s one thing to
read about and say “yeah, I know that, I’ve known that for years” and
quite another to do it. Keeping your keister parked on the couch instead of
being obedient is a loss for Christ’s kingdom. You, as a child of God, need not
fear even when seemingly impossible and daunting obstacles stand before you. If
you know that God will empower His followers to do His work, do you believe
Him? Going a step further, if you know that God has charged you to do something
overwhelming, are you stepping out in faith even when you can’t see what’s in
front of you?
Take the next step.
Step out in faith. He’s going to give you what you need to succeed in His name.
I’ve been there. I’ve seen it. You’ve gotta believe me!
