Craig's Blog

Road Warriors

I just walked into our home having driven home from LA after a couple of weeks with our family and friends over the holidays.Yes, that’s me in my Santa accoutrements with my numero uno “helper”. Lori stayed in LA for some extended time with friends giving me the gift of a two day drive. I spent much of the drive silent. I’m always amazed how much God has to say if I am merely quiet. "We live in a noisy, busy world… We have become a people with an aversion to quiet and an uneasiness with being alone." – Jean Fleming "Be still, and know that I am God”. – Psalm 46:10 I was silent, he was present. The entire drive seemed as though I was “NASCAR-ing” across the Mojave, canyon lands of Utah and the mega-Rockies with my best friend – who happened to be The God of All Creation! I drove, he sat next to me in passenger seat with one foot raised up on the dash and an elbow hanging out the window. Two road warriors spending a couple of days on a long drive free associating, asking one another questions, pondering the deep questions of life, drinking in the scenery and laughing together over all the unique oddities of the Inter-State Nation. Early on I was profoundly convicted of being a poor lover… both of Him and so many others. The faces and wounds of those I hate and have yet to forgive popped up. Loving others authentically, strongly, wisely and from the heart is the high bar we’re called to live and I fall far short. Short short. I have wounded many by overt dismissal or disengaged and cowardly withholding of compassion. My need for repentance, forgiveness and a deeper walk with Christ surfaced over miles of open highway. (The issues here will be a focused theme of God’s work in me this year for sure!) One truck stop and an In-And-Out Burger later* there came a transition. What I became aware of was the intensity of my desire to be a better man… to love others courageously as I was intended… and as they were meant to be! The repentance, sorrow, conviction and the horror of how I can live didn’t push me into the shaft of condemnation, self loathing and shame. Instead the pierced hand of my travel mate, the Sovereign Just Savior, patted me on the knee, then the shoulder as he pivoted and turned looking at me and speaking words of forgiveness that settled the issue... and offered the invitation to all that’s needed to love/live well. About that time we cranked some tunes by Tom Petty, Ashley Cleveland, Stones, Alan Jackson, Tim McGraw, Foghat and Jeff Beck. There is, for me, at times, a grace in loud music. We were two bobble-heads enjoying one another at 85 MPH. streaking across Utah. The desert and canyon lands of the West are drop-to-your–knees beautiful. Is beauty definitionally indescribable? Whether it’s nature, a person, music/art… I find myself lifted by the hope/reassurance, joy of beauty. I’m more alive, more passionate and thinking more clearly in the presence of beauty than I am in homey gray hues of the foggy world that often surrounds me. The epic views of terracotta mesas, plateaus, deeply cut river canyons, red clay cliffs and formations fostered visions of castles and fortresses, cowboys and Indians… of some ancient and future life. I repeatedly slowed down or pulled into a lofty vista point to gaze… and then to feel, in the same moment – very small/finite and yet very vital in the mythic story of God. I was silent, but all of nature was grousing. The artic wind was howling and I’m certain all the rock massives and sentinels were crying out… groaning for that yet-to-come future time when we shall be liberated from bondage to decay and brought into the glorious and full redemption and freedom of God (Romans 8). I was quiet, all of nature was singing. Driving for hours through the dramatic trophies of God’s power and craft we listened to the sweeping sound tracks that fit the country – Out of Africa, The Mission, Dances with Wolves. It was eternal! Woven in and out of the drive I found myself whispering prayers, praise, adoration and worship softly to God. These were tender and intimate moments - from the heart, deeply loving. Then I would come around some bend to a whole new dramatic vista and would begin shouting (screaming) out the testimonies and confessions of my heart… It was a rebel yell of glorious and wild praise. In a mile or so silence would return, and we road warriors would continue the communion and joy of being together… chatting,it would seem, about all things important and a few not so. "God was pleased to pour into my soul a great spirit of supplication, and a sense of His free, distinguishing mercies so filled me with love, humility, and joy and holy confusion that I could at last only pour out my heart before Him in an awful silence. I was so full that I could not well speak.” - George Whitefield And so it is. – Craig McConnell * When you travel calories, carbs, fats and sugar don’t count… right?

Craig McConnell

A Roller Coaster

I truly appreciate all the words and prayers that have come since I shared my diagnosis in the last blog. Thank you so much! After learning of the Leukemia I initially experienced waves of shock/surprise, fear and anxiety. But as with many disrupting events in life those expected emotions were mingled with the unexpected. I remember as a young boy standing in line to ride the rickety old wooden roller coaster on the Santa Cruz Boardwalk… it was named “Certain Death”, “Giant Dipper”, “Bone Crusher” or some other frightening moniker. As the line shuffled slowly forward to the sound of car loads of screaming riders I became more and more frightened… and excited. Something big, life threatening and adventurous awaited me. I was scared to death and pulsing with excitement as well. Similar to that, in the first season of facing cancer I also had a sense of exhilaration that I had just stepped into some life and death adventure with stakes higher than anyone ever chooses. I knew God was present and to be found. I knew, though I felt very alone, I was not alone. I knew I was in for an epic ride… and there actually is something very sobering and keenly thrilling about that. Faith in God and a gripping terror were strange bedfellows for a season. Early on I asked myself the question, “What has really changed with my diagnosis of Leukemia?’ My first response was “Everything!!!”. Every moment is now colored by my need of God, the desire to live, the awareness of some dastardly disease lurking in my body, there’s a new level of lies from the adversary. There’s the throbbing desire to live well, a crisper appreciation and love of family and friends. Some relationships seem to be changing; some seem to have withdrawn a bit… as if I have kooties, or relate to me from a posture of denial as if I haven’t been diagnosed with anything. Then there are a few, who only a couple of months ago were practically strangers to me, I have turned to late at night with the need to be listened to or to simply be with over the phone. Free reading books on history have been replaced with books on nutrition, detoxing, exercise and coffee enemas. Tears flow more often from the music I listen to. My prayers are probably more of what I always wanted prayer to be like but never experienced. I hold Lori a little tighter and gaze a little longer into my daughter’s eyes. The word hope seems to have bright flashing lights on it I hadn’t ever noticed before…. it seems like everything has changed. My second response was… “very little” has really changed. I’m terminal, mortal? Actually that has always been true. I’m destined to die at some point whether it be in the womb, in combat at the age of 23, in an accident at 36 or in bed at 92. What’s new is that this reality is now reality… ever present. As it has always been, my life is in God’s hands… yeah I’ve got leukemia… but I could live another 30 years or choke on a chicken bone next Thursday. My every breath comes from the Lord. Each and every breath. I realize that more deeply now but it’s always been true. There’s something sobering and keenly thrilling about that. Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. - Psalm 90:12 – Craig McConnell

Craig McConnell

Leukemia

This last May 9th I was in Dulles International Airport with a 15 minute lay-over prior to boarding my overnight flight to Zurich to consult/coach a group of gifted Swiss leaders who were initiating the first German language Boot Camp. I plugged in my computer hoping to charge the battery a skosh and noticed an email from my doctor. It said, “Craig, please give me a call. Your labs [from routine physical 2 weeks earlier] are back and Houston, we may have a problem..." What? I read it twice. Is this a joke? Moments later I boarded the plane with my “Friendly Skies” companions and informed Lori from my cell of the email and asked her to follow up with my doc on what’s going on. Fifteen minutes later as the announcement to turn off all portable electronic devices for takeoff is being made my phone rings and Lori hurriedly reports, “Your white cell count is elevated. When you get back into town he wants to do some more tests. On your flight he wants you to take an aspirin, get up and walk around every hour, and lose weight.” I ’m a little disoriented/spinning with what’s unfolding. Not sure if I was offering reassurance or asking for it, I ask Lori, “Is everything okay… are you okay?” She responds, “Yeah, I’m okay, I’m fine. It’s just a little something he wants to check out later, I love you”. Wheels up and into a long night my heart’s posture was, “God, what’s up?” I didn’t take the Ambien® (sleep aid) I was anticipating because I had to get up and move around every hour. I had taken an aspirin with my vitamins that morning so I checked that “box”, but wasn’t sure how to lose any significant weight on an 8 hour red-eye to Switzerland other than resisting the Snicker bar in my carry-on (which I did). Every moment of the flight I was praying and pondering life… my life, death… my death, my family, my script of the future, my health and whether or not I had blood clots, heart issues, high blood pressure, H1N1, a parasite or a brain tumor? Was I overreacting, misinterpreting a doctors generic concern over a minor abnormality in my blood work? Am I a hypochondriac? Or it some scheme birthed in hell to spin me into a self-absorbed disengagement from the team and epic importance of this mission (The FIRST German language Boot Camp!!)? In what felt like the same amount of time it took Rome to fall I arrived in Switzerland, and though it was in the middle of the night in the states, I emailed my doctor, “Hey I’m speculating about my health and have died and buried myself five times on the flight… what’s going on?!” He responded: “Your white cell count is elevated, around 20 thousand, normal is 10 thousand or less. The kind of cells are lymphocytes. We need the hospital to run some tests and repeat the counts to confirm the possibility of CLL, chronic lymphocytic leukemia. When you get back let’s get the testing done and I will get you in to see a hematologist.” Leukemia!!! And then there was the silence of my entire being recalibrating as I grasped each of the eight letters of the word and then the word as a whole… L-e-u-k-e-m-i-a . It felt foreign, intrusive, large and daunting and very, very personal word. I had a friend die of that as well as a colleague I supervised in my last church! I’m a dead man walking… what do I have, 3 weeks to live and I’m stuck here doing a men’s retreat in Switzerland for 2 of them? I chose not to call Lori and tell her the news over the phone from so far away nor did I share it with the Swiss Team. I was on mission and sensed strongly that God would give me the grace to accomplish this task while privately processing all the anxieties, fears, free roaming emotions, questions and the reorientation my diagnosis was raising. On the second day in country the Swiss guys suggested I spend some time with one of the team, Gerd. The other four team members and I had spent time together at Boot Camps, Advanced Camps and at our home in Colorado. So Gerd and I went for a walk along a streamside trail in a high elevation meadow with the Eiger and Jungfrau peaks overlooking us. It was stunning beauty. I asked Gerd for a bit of his story. He shared that he was a retired professor at a German Medical School, former president of the German Cancer Society, and a survivor of an aggressive/acute Leukemia. I managed to ask a few more questions about his “survival” of cancer and then stopped walking to find a rock to weigh down. Finding one, I begin to sob, eventually finding the words to tell him that I had just learned of my diagnosis, the day before! He sat alongside me, and took all the time needed for me to express my shock and fear, he listened… asked several questions and reassuringly led me to a deeper understanding of “life” and “health and how neither is determined by the condition of my body. He was fathering me. And God was fathering me through him. I’m 36,000 miles from home, alone for the next eleven days (hiding my diagnosis from my wife), about to participate in a historic “first” that will require all of me, and I’ve just learned I have cancer… and yet I’m not alone, God is present… so very present. And he has silver hair – just as I’ve always imagined, a German accent and responds to the name “Gerd”. I was BLOWN away! I don’t know how long we sat there. It was a good amount of time. Not wanting my time with the team nor the conference to be about me I asked Gerd to keep my issues confidential. Throughout my time their he would put his hand on my shoulder during times of worship… it was Gerd’s hand… yet it was a larger, even stronger hand – the same hand that has touched us all at our times of crisis and need. It was God. And it was Gerd… who would pull me aside to offer words needed to stay the course while fear, anxiety and confusion surged back and forth. It was Gerd who would pray and check in on the fragile condition of my heart. Several times he spoke to my fears and doubts insisting that “We simply must life! Live life!” and that the best offense against cancer is waged from the heart. With his vast medical knowledge and in a sagely voice he told me that a certain and sure indication of living well was to… “Have a little whiskey and chocolate every night”. So much more could be shared. After 12 days I returned home. I hadn’t shared my diagnosis with Lori over the phone, choosing to wait until we could hold one another and talk with our eyes and heart. Reunited I found that she had known of the cancer from the beginning and choose to wait until my mission was over so we could circle the wagons together. There will come a day when I attempt to put a few sentences together that describe what my wife means to me… and brings to me. I went in for extensive blood and genetic tests that confirmed I have Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL). I’m asymptomatic and in the early stages. My Hemoc used an analogy to describe my specific situation: there is a burning ember in a dry grassy field with a warm breeze blowing. The hope is that the ember is extinguished by God, or never ignites the grass. I’m under the care of great docs and am getting good counsel. Since May I’ve survived the initial waves of fear, hopelessness and the frisky dose of the “blues”. I’ve got a lot more to say about all of this, and will in time. My goal is to live life fully; not let my identity be defined by cancer; fight like hell, and have a little whiskey and chocolate every night! - Craig McConnell Note: Until last week only my family, close friends and a few intercessors were aware of my diagnosis. I wasn’t ready to deal with a wider circle. Now I am. Besides, so much of what God is doing in my life now is linked to cancer… how could I keep silent about all of it? Within a few weeks of the diagnosis of Leukemia I got another call from a different doctor on the pathology reports from several biopsies that had been taken… they proved to be Melanoma; thus the “frisky dose of the blues”. They’ve been removed! I blog on that experience as well. Another blog from this summer pretty well captures one of the primary themes of God’s work in me through this season thus far. Thanks so much for your prayers.

Craig McConnell

My how God has changed!

I’ve been reading through 35 years of my journaling. My how I’ve changed. My how God has changed! Now, of course God hasn’t changed, but a boat load of my beliefs about Him sure have. Over the course of a Christ-follower’s life long journey any beliefs he has about God that are beneath Him (God) will be dismantled and discarded. Dismantled by God. Discarded by us. After all, the Author and Perfector of our faith desires truth in our inner most being, and we, who are children of light cannot coexist with darkness once it’s been exposed. It actually takes a herculean effort to repress truth/beauty/love, and such is the power of deceit whether chosen or not. But God, on His part, will arrange life to surface the aberrant convictions/beliefs we hold that, unattended, will eventually cause us great grief. The preferred time to find you’ve built your house upon the sand is prior to the tempest! As we walk with God, press into His word and feel the fury of life’s storms our immature/sub-biblical/second-hand beliefs will be outed and readily tossed on the rubbish pile of “religious notions”. A.W. Tozer said it well, "That our idea of God correspond as nearly as possible to the true being of God is of immense importance to us. Compared with our actual thoughts about Him, our creedal statements are of little consequence. Our real idea of God may lie buried under the rubbish of conventional religious notions and may require an intelligent and vigorous search before it is finally unearthed and exposed for what it is." Read the Gospels and you’ll see that God is supremely more interested in the unseen motives and beliefs that govern us than He is in our external behaviors and verbal declarations. Real change, lasting change starts on the inside – in the arena of motives and beliefs, and then works itself out in our actions and deeds; thus, one of His redemptive purposes in orchestrating of all the annoying hassles and struggles of life. God will initiate the vigorous unearthing of that which we truly believe about God, about His view of us, our epic role in His Larger Story, the life we long for and the Adversary set against us so that we might know the truth. In short, if you want to know what a person really believes, their doctrinal declarations may not tell you nearly as much as how they live, pray, relate to others, worship and deal with life’s grave disappointments. Over the years I’ve canned, modified and exchanged a whole lot of my beliefs and convictions about love, marriage, parenting, growing as a Christian, and my role in society, church and ministry, sinners, “saints”, sin, the doctrinal issues I’d actually fight over, addictions, grace… and on and on! When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. – 1 Corinthians 13:11 There is humility in growing. Now of course there are things I believe and embrace as true that haven’t yet taken deep root in my being. It could be the reality and extent of warfare in the life of the believer, or the epic role I play in God’s Large Story, perhaps that the redeemed heart is good, or that God’s heart toward me is that of a loving father, or that healing of life-shaping wounds is available. All true, yet, perhaps not fully governing me. In some blend of desire, faith, trust and courage I step into those beliefs by choosing to live as if they’re true. Absolutely true! And in doing so I find myself crying out to God in my prayers and in my reflections upon scripture for Him to confirm, instruct and weave these truths into my heart, mind and soul. Take my once adolescent belief in the omnipresence of God (the attribute of God that speaks of His forever and always presence in all places). I professed that truth, but for decades I didn’t really truly actually believe way down in the nitty gritty of Craig that it was true. Life pressed in and I begin to realize my unbelief that God was present. I didn’t believe He was present the way that David did, or the way the early church did, or the way others around me did. I begin to look for Him at odd and unusual times… outside of church, in a U2 song, in the middle of an argument, when I had the flu or the transmission failed. In odd and difficult situations, with positive and negative emotions my posture was one of questions and seeking, “Are you (God) here… in this?” “God, where are you?” “Is that you?” And He’s shown up time and time again making Himself known, answering me, speaking, He’s jumped out of the bushes and snuck up behind me enough that His being present is a reflexive lens I now view life from, because it’s true. Truly true! – Craig McConnell

Craig McConnell

It Was Ugly

I’m sitting at Gate B-42 waiting, as usual, for a United flight that’s been delayed four times since its scheduled time of departure over two hours ago. I’m among a crowd that is slowly morphing into a mob. The businessman seated one “Friendly-Skies”-blue vinyl seat over, gets up and for the third time approaches the Customer Service rep at the gate counter. And with three well enunciated words he un-corks vicariously venting for all 150 of us. Less than 10 seconds into his diatribe he crossed the line as our warrior-poet-representative and became a caricature/cartoon of a enraged foul mouthed borderline-abusive man venting all the anger/wounds/disappointment he has experienced over the entire 42 years of his miserable life. It was ugly. Satisfied and no doubt exhausted from the adrenaline rush, he returns to his chair and glazed over, though still muttering obscenities, he slouches back. Two minutes later, having caught his breath, he makes a call on his Blackberry. I easily overhear him talking to his young daughter tenderly over the phone. He’s calm, loving, engaged and thrilled to hear about her day as he expresses his love for her. It was sweet. I’ve seen this behavior before…in others. Then I slouched down into my chair and realize that there’s a voice, a clear, kind voice saying, “Did YOU see that… did you see THAT?” There are times when events unfold before you that, upon reflection, seem orchestrated by our sovereign God specifically for you. For a reason… as an invitation. Ahhh yeah… I’ve seen that in myself (less dramatic and public of course!) It was like there were two different people in one body. Truth is it may have been two different people in one body. Most of us have buttons that, if pushed, set off some response (rage, withdrawal, control etc.) that signals a deeper issue of brokenness, woundedness… a young unfathered heart/place and a foolish/sinful strategy of living. That “signal” isn’t something to repress/deny or shy away from. It’s actually the opportunity to experience the deep and true healing/forgiveness/deliverance/grace our good God offers. I spent my flight wondering about my need of God and his promises to me. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters,He restores my soul. – Psalm 23;1-3 He heals the broken hearted And binds up their wounds. – Psalm 147:3 Heal me, O LORD, and I will be healed; Save me and I will be saved, For you are the one I praise. – Jeremiah17:14

Craig McConnell

7 Iron Bliss

Okay… who’s been praying for my golf swing? Thank you! When our close friend’s son asked our daughter, Meagan, to marry him we were elated. As the Wedding Week was being planned several rounds of Golf were on the docket. I’d never had any interest in shagging a ball around for 4-6 hours; however, realizing this was an opportunity to spend time with them zipping around in a golf cart while engaged in a competitive sport that involved skill, grace, jawboning and a beer afterward I decided to take it up. So, the humiliating process of learning to “play” began. It’s been a year and a half and I stink at golf… but so does my best buddy who also happens to be my son-in-law’s father and the fourth in our regular foursome and frequent “Best Ball” partner. Misery loves company! * * * * * * While on vacation this summer a couple of pros watching me on the driving range had a choice… shoot me and save their course from further damage or intervene. Mercifully they took me under their wing and, with the patience of Job and a smirk, gave me the guidance/help/salvation/lessons I needed. * * * * * * * For my lunch break today I went to the local driving range. (Note… what a deal! A bucket of balls, a corn dog, bag of chips and medium soda for $7… I’m thinking “Date Night”) I pull out my 7 iron and start whacking balls. Whoa! Bam! Biff! Sock! Kapow! Bar the gates Katie! I was Captain Junuh, Bobby Jones, and Walter Hagen… I’d found my swing! I have never hit the ball as good… consistently, high and far! Something’s up?! I'd gone to the driving range in a panicked attempt to break away from an oppressive spiritual sludge that covered me. It felt like a thick swarm of gunky mosquitoes the size of crows swarming around me that no amount of swatting and screaming could alleviate. I couldn’t out run them distancing myself from them hoping to buy a little time of peace before having to sprint again. Do you know what I’m describing? * * * * * * * It had been a beautiful Colorado Fall morning with an apple crisp air and pumpkin hued mountains in the sun’s rising light. As usual I had given time to prayers of worship, consecration, and applying the full and triumphant work of Christ over my heart/soul/mind/body/spirit for the day. It seemed that all my brokenness, desire, deep wounds, yearnings for God, profound and compulsive sins were properly stowed in the caring hands of my Father God when I walked into the Outpost (our office building) and got bushwhacked by a bucket of iced Gatorade brewed in hell. Suddenly I’m… irritated. Rankled by an email, fuming over a colleague’s presumption, soured by an odd look what’s-her-name gave me… actually I’m enraged by the mere presence of other humans. The Outpost is suddenly dank and dark and with pairs of creepy little green eyes peering around every corner sneering at me. It was obviously spiritual warfare given that murderous thoughts are not common for me. I had faced this before on occasion… this feeling of being eaten alive by some hideous predator… probably the way it would feel to be devoured by a Lion (which according to all the nature shows I’ve watched doesn’t let its prey die prior to its blood devouring) Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. - 1 Peter 5:8 I wondered what people without a warfare category do with such overwhelming experiences/feelings? My morning was spent battling in prayer against this foulness to seemingly no avail. The prayers felt impotent leaving me with a foul mocking echo, “You can’t handle this… your life sucks. You suck! This is your miserable fate!!” I clung to the truth of God and the promises of victory his word gives knowing that there are extended battles we must fight without losing heart. They are harder than we expect. Hand to hand combat where time stands still and only the smoke, noise and fury seems eternal. I recalled the account of Daniel praying for understanding of a vision he had had. At the moment of Daniel’s prayer God immediately answered it by sending a mighty and glorious angel to Daniel (many interpreters view this angel as the pre-incarnate Christ himself!). However, it took twenty-one days of warring with the demonic prince of the Persian kingdom before the angel could even get to Daniel with the answer to his prayer. In fact, the angel needed the help of the archangel Michael to battle this demonic being (Daniel Chapter 10). There are battles over and for us that remain unseen, and if seen, would explain so much of the long suffering and enmity we endure. I believed God would give me victory at some point, until then the sulfuric weighted film and crows seemed the dread champion. Noon-ish the thought that came to mind was, “Run!”, “Get outta here!”, “Get some air, and do something… anything distracting!” My clubs were in the back of the Suburban so I went to the range. After a brief argument with the vendor over who the hottest quarterback in the NFL was, and gripping over the fact that he was out of mustard for my corn dog I went to my bay and dumped out the balls and paused before striking the first. The driving range was quiet and almost vacant; there was an elderly woman and a young jock sharing the range with me. A cold damp blustery breeze was blowing leaves around, distracting me until a huge flock of Canadian Geese glided in for a soft landing on the range (they were directly in front of me at about 150 yards… which is the safest place they could be.). The stillness and beauty of the moment caught my heart’s attention and I mutter the simplest prayer of the day, “Dear God I need you”. I hit the first ball… and the Geese scatter. Straight. High looping and long. Whoa! I hit another… “God?”. And another… God came! I began to sense the beauty, strength and grace of his presence. For an hour I was in his presence with my 7 Iron. In his presence there is: victory, joy, peace, and LIFE. In long pauses between swings he spoke of his love of me and my strength in this battle… I felt his smile. The gunk was gone. I was with the Father… golfing! Amazing! He remains the ever-present and always surprising God! - Craig McConnell

Craig McConnell

Distraction

“Hutchison's Law: Any occurrence requiring undivided attention will be accompanied by a compelling distraction.” – Robert Bloch This is now the fourth afternoon I’ve sat down to scribble out a bit of all that’s unfolding before me to no avail. There’s a gumbo of fresh thoughts simmering around in my heart and head that I’d love to put out there on paper… (such as): … there is a joy rooted in objective truth that desperate circumstances cannot alter. … what we actually mean when we say that “Marriage” is hard. … my love of naps. … the grief and longings stirred up looking through an old school annual. … an addiction update. … the breeding ground angry partisan talk shows are for anxiety, fear and hatred. … General George Patton’s biography. … how the six “Woes” of Luke 11 effect me. … when a glass of wine or a well stirred Manhattan is so sweet. … a friend’s challenge to ponder my being “Chosen”. … my first impressions of alternative cancer treatments/cures. .… reflections on my conversion to a warfare world-view. … how easy I find it to hear God when He’s saying what I want. … bowling leagues. I’m still sitting in front of the computer. Words on each of these musings and more are present… but at the moment I seem unable to put two intelligent sentences together. (Go ahead and count them). Distraction is familiar territory for me. One moment I’m bottomed-out in my chair, placid, glazed over in stage 3 of “writers block” and then I find myself in the middle of some project: cleaning out the garage; sharpening every pencil in the house; organizing my library by perfectly aligning every book on its shelf topically in alphabetical order (by author of course); re-folding the family tent or creating a new itunes playlist. Aargh!!! The desire to write persists, so I strap myself back into the chair and lean back to process my thoughts and get God’s interpretation of what’s going on. Okay, while in silence and stillness there’s a woodpecker rhythmically destroying the wood facia on the north side of our home. I’ve gone out twice to scare him away but, once again he’s returned. This red headed terror pounds on the house giving me, not him, a headache. Wanting to fight through my dissipation I begin to pray… Father, Father, Father, I come to you now, in this moment longing for you, loving you, worshiping you. I fully consecrate/surrender myself to you… (and then it happens) Do Red Tail Hawks really have red tails? At a movie theater which arm rest is yours? Are eyebrows considered facial hair? Do you change the heater filter every 30 days or 60 days? It probably depends upon the season. I probably need to replace it every month in winter, every two months in fall and spring, and none in summer…so how many would that be per year? I wonder if Home Depot gives you a case discount? Distraction. I snap out of it the way you jerk yourself awake in the early stages of sleep and continue, Lord come give me focus, strength, diligence. Counsel and father me… When is my breakfast appointment tomorrow? I better not wear my good shirt I may stain it. Do you know what I’m describing? I fear I am much and often distracted. Even now, this very moment, as I finish this scrawling I’m so aware of the battle required to do such simple things, the most important things. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy [and distract]; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. – John 10:10 A battle we must and can win. Join me in fighting it! – Craig McConnell

Craig McConnell

Wrong Room?

Last night must have been a blue moon for this morning I went onto Facebook to peruse the status of my friends. A young friend posted: Thomas wishes that when he ran into a room and started dancing that other people would get up and dance. and not just sit and stare. ya. One of Thomas’s friends commented quickly: maybe you're running into the wrong rooms I didn’t read another line. I’m pausing still... God why does this grab me? Maybe we’re running into the wrong rooms/churches/small groups/relationships... Don’t stop dancing! – Craig McConnell

Craig McConnell

People and Moments

There are places I remember All my life, though some have changed, Some forever, not for better, Some have gone and some remain. All these places had their moments, With lovers and friends I still can recall, Some are dead and some are living, In my life I've loved them all. – “In My Life”, The Beatles I found myself singing this song today… fondly, in most cases, remembering some of the names and faces of friends who have moved in and then out of our lives. It was like looking through your High School Annual and wondering as you turned the pages, “I wonder what every became of Jerry Gorvitski… or Doris Ward?” People you grew up with, some you hated, some you loved, looking back, others seem like extras in some young story beginning to unfold. I thought of Barry, Laurie, Jim, Ron, former colleagues, friends and neighbors. There were a few names I passed over quickly… and sadly, for the transition from close friend/colleague to a “memory” was painful, messy or poorly done. Several things surfaced. I hope and live and love well. I think I do… “Do I Lord?” There are still people to forgive, and issues of residual bitterness for me to deal with in a few relationships. “Lord, guide me in forgiveness. I long to be a forgiving man”. Looking around at all the faces, stories and names that surround me now… I thank God for so many wonderful people in my life. I am a blessed man. “Thank you God for how you’ve used people in my life to bless me, to expose me and invite me into a holier, more loving life. May I savor and love those in my life now, May I forgive those who have hurt me. Lord, I love you!”

Craig McConnell

Waving Goodbye

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard. ~Carol Sobieski and Thomas Meehan, Annie A couple of weeks ago Lori and I came to the end of some vacation time in So. California. We were at our daughter’s home saying our “Goodbyes” and steeling ourselves for the drive back to Colorado. Pulling out of their driveway we wave, give the traditional 3 quick honks of the horn, yell “Goodbye” and began to weep. I allow my internal world to breach and a wave of emotions follow. I’m a bit caught off guard by the fervor of my tears. They were new, not the familiar tears from the historic taps of my soul/wounds. These were fresh as if from a newly uncovered spring. We’re zipping up the interstate just south of Barstow and the “spring” now feels like the seepage of a dam beginning to crack. Our emotions have been compared to the “idiot” light on a car’s dashboard. When it goes off it’s always good to check under the hood to determine what’s going on. To ignore it is to court with much bigger issues down the road. Lori and I ask/invite God to help us interpret the tears and the energy behind them. And then, rather quickly, a question comes to me from God. So much of my interaction with God comes in the form of questions. I ask a question, He answers with a question. It’s truly conversational. It’s a Socratic dialog with a sagely loving father who happens to be the Holy and Magnificent Triune Creator God of Angel Armies who sovereignly rules over all of Heaven and Earth. His questions always cause me to pause, ponder, reorient and eventually offer a response that then becomes the subject of a deeper discussion. The discussion may be a brief moment or unfold over weeks. With the diagnosis of malignant melanoma* and my bout with mortality as the back story, I hear God ask, “Craig, if you were to die sooner than you’d like/planned, am I sufficient for Lori? Do you trust that I, as her God, her Father and Lover would care for her, “be there” for her, protect and provide for her? Could I make her laugh and fill her with joy; bless her life and give her a rich full life all of her days?” And in His next breath He asks, “How about your girls, your daughters and grandchildren? Am I enough for Lindsey, Meagan, Jacqueline and Annie? Do you trust that I, their Father, Friend, Lover and God would care for them; guide them; and fill their hearts and lives with joy? Would my “Being there” for holidays, anniversaries, family vacations, graduations and weddings bring them joy, love, hope, faith and life?” “Am I enough for those you love?” (I’m not trying to be sappy, honest…for if I were I’d suggest you put on “Butterfly Kisses” as you read this). My first reaction was to His question was … “What?” I think I felt like the Rich Young Ruler may have, when he asks Christ, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life”, and Christ responds with, what seems to me, to be an odd question, “Why do you call me good?” Huh… what’s Christ’s question got to do with the rich guys question? Something inside was responding, “Why of course You’re sufficient and enough… I’ve professed and taught that for years! What does that have to do with these tears?” God will often use a question to redirect the issue we’re bringing to him to a more pivotal issue of the heart. Now, let me say, I think each of us has a number of voids/needs/yearnings that if filled bring us life in a deeper richer more textured way. Each of us has a star shaped hole only a loving spouse can fill. A friend doesn’t fill it, a pet cannot and God will not. A round peg will not fit or fill it. If that hole/void/need/yearning remains unfilled we legitimately ache, serverely at times and we bear the scar or grief that emptiness in our soul brings. There’s a round hole only a father fills, a diamond shaped hole a mother fills… and there’s a God shaped void no spouse, child, success,amount of money or religion can touch… We’ve got a bunch of holes, voids and yearnings, and it’s critical that they be filled. But they’re not all filled all the time. The God-hole is the mondo-bolardo of holes/needs/voids we have as humans. Our yearning/need for intimacy with God is crucial and though we try to fill it with all kinds of stuff… it’s only the One True God peg that fits. To know God is to have life whether or not the other holes are filled. When the God-hole is filled we have all we need to worship, follow, live loving lives and taste heaven here and now no matter what our circumstances or hardships are. God alone is sufficient. He is enough. So, “Yes”, my “premature” death would have an impact upon those closest to me, to varying degrees they would ache, grieve, go “without” some pretty significant stuff for the rest of their lives. And there is God whois sufficient, enough, plenty, all-they-need in some deep governing true way to live life fully, richly and meaningfully. He is they’re Father, Lord, Lover, Companion, Friend, Guide, Counselor, Comforter, Provider… While I have believed all that I just said for decades the answer to God’s question, “Am I sufficient, am I enough for your wife and family?” that surfaced in a mile or two was actually, “No. I don’t think you’re sufficient to cover the gaping hole my death would bring.” There was about five miles of stillness as my response soaked in… deeply. I don’t think God is enough. I’m not certain, when it comes down to the most important issues of my life, that I can trust Him!?#%&*?! Whoa! That’s new, big, important, deep… surprising! Another 6 miles of stillness/silence passed. No wonder I’m crying as I leave my family! They’re facing an emotional, relational destitution without me! A sparse, cold, long winter. Without my strength, love, godliness and selfless presence the family tree, once so verdant and promising, will wilt like a cursed fig tree with future generations looking back and citing my early demise as the tragic end of the McConnell Spirit. I began to connect a few dots. If I do not trust God for my posterity, do I trust him with my life? If He is not enough for them is He for me? If He is not a good hearted strong Lover and Father for Lori, Lindsey, Meagan and the kids, is he for me? Every core issue and all the behaviors and attitudes we hate most in our lives have some root in the idea that God isn’t good. What was springing from my soul was a profound need to know God far more intimately than I currently do. My tears were the expression of the deepest longing of my heart… to know God so well that I find myself smiling about the future and the great, great love The Father will lavish upon me and the family that follows. – Craig *see previous blog for more on the melanoma issue, which, God willing, has been resolved.

Craig McConnell

Tomato

I’m not suffering with a horrible body awareness issue (see photo), but there are a few small features I wish were different about my tabernacle.* (For the record, that is my face and fishing hat!) I’ll restrain myself from disclosing the 23 adjustments I’m hoping for in my glorified body but I will own the vanity of wishing that my skin could take a little more sun than it does. Tan I am not! My Scot-Irish ancestry is seen in my ruddy freckled complexion. “Ruddy” of course meaning “red”, as in, “He’s as red as a tomato.” “Tomato” being a short lived nickname a couple of 9th grade knucklehead best friends gave me because of my regular second-degree sunburn from surfing and beach life. Note: Growing up in So. Cal the only lotion I ever saw anyone but on their body was baby oil… sunscreen was practically unheard of. So, over the decades I’ve grilled my epidermis like a cheap steak a zillion times. Somewhere along the way the concept of skin damage popped onto my radar with my first, “Hey, this mole looks a little funky” moment being circa 1988. That began my pilgrimages to a dermatologist for an annual pruning/zapping/frying of sundry oddities. One Doc examining my back compared it to a pier piling covered with barnacles! The visits have simply become a part of life, like getting an oil change, paying your taxes or having corn beef on St. Patrick’s Day… the pathology reports always came in “negative” a week or two later. So this June I trot in to the dermatology office for the usual examination. A dozen spots are frozen, a couple of blots/weird-pigment-smudges removed and a little something new... a prescription for a topical cream (fluorouracil) that destroys precancerous cells. In the ten days you’re applying this stuff you become a living scab, lichen with personality, a Star War “bar scene” character. I looked so bad I considered wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask or withdrawing from civilization for 10 days. The directions warn you: Do Not get this in your eyes or upon your lips, to wash your hands thoroughly after applying and then suggest you wear rubber gloves when touching it… I’m thinking, “And I’M PUTTING THIS ON MY FACE?!? Deciding not to take my “sick days” I show up at work as usual with most of my 30-something knucklehead best friends calling me Freddie Krueger! My favorite moment was when sweet and kind Amanda, seeing my face for the first time, simply said, “It must hurt”. It wasn’t a question. My treatment ends none-to-soon and the family and I take off for a little R&R at Lake Havasu. It’s a great vacation aided by the fact that we were mercifully cut off from the known world having no cell phone coverage or email access. At vacations end, driving back towards LA my phone gets coverage and starts picking up a number of messages. There are three that catch my interest, each along the lines of: “Hello Craig, this is Doctor Jones**, I’m trying to reach you to go over your pathology report. Would you give me a call so we can set up a time to talk.” Huh… I have never had the doctor call to give me a pathology report… it’s always been a nurse. The standard line is, “Mr. McConnell the removed tissue was Basal cell carcinoma, “no problem… wear sunscreen… we’ll see you at your annual checkup. Oh, and wear sunscreen!” I’m thinking this isn’t good. For a variety of almost comedic reasons it takes me 4 days to finally reach my doctor. I’m toast… My doctor confirms that the tissue was a melanoma and that I need to set up an appointment with a surgeon to have the whole tumor removed… soon. Melanoma? Cancer? Me? It was then that everything went into slow motion. Voices were muffled and I felt like I was viewing the world through tunnel vision.The big soggy wet cold blanket of my mortality had been thrown over me. Some of you have been there. Some of you are there now. It was startling; I was knocked off center. Stunned! At some point in all of this God intrudes asking, “What’s changed with this diagnosis… really?” My knee jerk immediate reaction was: “E v e r y t h i n g!” Looking back it was surprisingly quick that I found some solid ground and perspective. That I am mortal isn’t new? That has always been true from the moment I was conceived. We all die. Some in the womb, some at 23 yrs. old in combat (like my father), some in an accident at 36 or in bed at 92. That I’ll die isn’t new… it just feels like it. That I could die sooner than later feels new? But in truth the gift of life is so very fragile and precious…we are dependent upon God for our every breath. I began to face the godless assumption that I would live to a “ripe old age” (James 4:13–15), when, in truth, there have never been any guarantees that tomorrow will come. This led to some necessary repentance. So… that my days are numbered isn’t new either. Nothing has changed, it just seems like it. Whether or not it’s a change I found myself craving life… to possess it, live in it, share it, fondle it and celebrate it. With no sluggish assumptions about the length of my life, I found myself diving into the depths of life; wanting to love and live with Lori, Lindsey, Meagan and the sacred circle of family and friends I enjoy. It feels like a change wrought by my diagnosis… and maybe it is. But I’ve always wanted to live passionately for God about God, sucking the marrow out of life regardless of the circumstances I find myself in. If this is a change… it’s for the better and I’ll take it! So there I was… realizing that very little has actually changed and all that has shifted seems pretty good at the moment! The life I want is forever and always rooted in Christ... nothing else. Not my health, not my circumstances. And the words of an old sage come to mind, to live is Christ. In July the Melanoma was surgically removed and my prognosis is life! Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom. - Psalm 90:12 NLT – Craig (There is so much more to say about all of this, and the truth is that I’m still processing my mortality with God. If interested, John and I recorded and posted on our web site a podcast in which I share another part of this story. The podcast title is: God In Our Summer Part 2) * I always smile when I read Old King James refer to our body as a “tabernacle” in 2 Corinthians 5:4; thus I had to use it here! The passage: For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life. ** Though he’s an incredible doctor that I would highly recommend and continues to be my dermatologist it seems best not to share his real name. *** Abraham breathed his last and died in a ripe old age, an old man and satisfied with life; and he was gathered to his people. – Genesis 25:8 NASB

Craig McConnell

Lake Havasu

Lori and I live in Colorado. Our daughters live in So. Cal. From our driveway to Lindsey’ home is 1,103 miles, 1,051 to Meagan’s. That’s a lot of miles between us. I deeply wish we were together more often, enjoying the grace and intimacy being geographically close allows as well as the greater weight and effect my life would have upon them. I miss them. I miss the just “being” there, swinging by in the morning with a bagel, a kiss and a my 2–cents on the issue du jour. Or the fam and a circle of friends sitting on the beach quietly applauding another beautiful sunset together. But, and it’s a B I G “but”, Colorado, a thousand-plus miles away, is where God has us and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. About seven years ago Lori and I moved from a beach community in LA to the side of the Rockies to partner with John Eldredge in this ministry called Wild at Heart. I had been a pastor on a once dynamic, passionate and gifted staff at a church with a national reputation for creatively pursuing God, His purposes and all peoples. But, as it often happens, there were some staff changes and with that came a contagion that horribly disfigured the church as a few pharisaic kamikazes flew it into a granite massif. The massif, the staff and the church have never been the same. Sub-biblical leadership is a bad thing! God’s clear call to Colorado/Wild at Heart seemed, to us, on the scale of God calling Abram to “Leave your country, your people and your father's household and go to the land I will show you.”To leave it “all” took a strong and persistent voice. True to His revelatory nature He obliged us, and we followed Him. Among other things “following” God eventually requires a pretty deep and firm belief that He is good, that His heart is for you and from that heart He will provide above and beyond all that’s lost in the pursuit. I’d also add that eventually following God requires an awareness and embrace of The Larger story that we’re living in. At some point tagging along with God will involve taking a risk you cannot manage, a battle with an uncertain ending, a Goliath adversary, a traitorous friend or a circumstance that is the very thing you’ve feared facing all your life. How can you rightly interpret your life, God’s involvement or your course if you question the goodness of God and view The Story as being all about you? You can't. The life we yearn for is found by knowing God as our Loving Father, and that the story we’re living in is epic in nature and scope. And though our role is mythic and crucial, the main character of this story is God, and His redemptive, victorious love of us. I am beginning to understand this more clearly. So… in June my family (daughters, spouses, grand daughters) joined more of our family (Bill, Anita and Michael) at Lake Havasu for a little "family" vacation. Lake Havasu is the desert playground on the Colorado River bordering Arizona and California that has The London Bridge arching over it. (Years ago Havasu actually bought The London Bridge, and moved it to this bass fishing and Spring–Break-Gone-Wild mecca as a tourist magnet). On our first night there, Bill, Anita, Lori, Meagan, Lindsey and I are in a ski boat on the lake as the sun is setting enjoying one another and a mid-level price performing chardonnay. We swam, laughed, talked and soaked in the beauty of a fiery sunset. It’s those moments I want to last forever. Family, friends, beauty, joy... It was awesome. One of my daughters says to me, “I love being together as family.” I smile, I hug her and weep wishing for so very much more of this! An hour later we’re on shore walking back to the Lake House and she softly says to me, “Dad, for a little while there on the boat with you I forgot I was an adult.” I am a rich man. And for a little while there in Havasu I forgot I lived so far from the ones I love most, I forgot the ache, the yearning, the grief. In the presence of a good father a lot of things are forgotten. The life I want most isn’t found in Havasu, Colorado or So. Cal. It’s in the presence of my Father. – Craig

Craig McConnell

A Son of Zebedee

Jon, my son-in-law, is my wingman. A wingman is the man who is covering your tail, an extra set of eyes guarding your vulnerabilities. The mission is effectively accomplished because of the teamwork between a pilot and his wingman. I’m the pilot. Our mission is to rescue the hearts of a group of men with the beauty, power and truth of the Gospel. The plan was for Jon to fly into Denver from LA early Wednesday morning to give the two of us a full day to connect, get caught up, go over our notes and run a few errands before we leave for Toronto at 5 AM the next morning. There was a lot to get done. Unfortunately Jon had to do the United Two Step… his flight was delayed several times, with different reasons/excuses given and then finally cancelled. In a rare moment of customer awareness and competence they finally got Jon on a flight, gave him a 1 oz. bag of nuts, a 4 oz. serving of diet Coke and landed the plane (with his luggage on it!).* Our day has vanished, my plan skittled leaving me frazzled. I rush north to Denver International to pick up my wingman in one of those wouldn’t-it-be-nice-if-days-like-this-never-ever-happened godless moods. “Godless” in the sense that something in me is ranting and raving about life not unfolding in the comfortable, pain and hassle free manner I demand. “Demand” in the sense that all poor reactions have at their root, core beliefs about God’s goodness and what brings life. My reaction, like the “idiot” light on the car dashboard, indicates some governing world-view is being thwarted/challenged. (Note James 4) A good time to take an inside look is when life turns unpleasant. In such times we become one of the Sons of Zebedee who approach Christ with the demand, “I want You to do for me whatever I ask of You.” (Mark 10:35). I wanted this day, with Jon to go a “certain way” so that… this conference, with Jon would go a “certain way” and that when the mission is over I’d feel a “certain way” about the conference, myself and life in general. “Jesus I expect you to do for me whatever I ask…” As I drove I was aware that all is not well internally. I put in The Daily Prayer CD*, which a recording of John Eldredge praying the prayer that many of us pray on a daily basis (It’ll change your prayer life). I’ll often meditate on the words as I’m driving around, pausing it at different points to linger with my own prayers and reflections. 14 seconds into the prayer there’s an acknowledgment of God being sovereign. I stop the CD and allow the idea of God being over all, in control, the sovereign God counter the sense I have that all of life is chaotic and fully out of control… that this mission is a mistake and so am I. It was great. I traversed into a reflective spell pondering the overwhelming reality that it was God who put this entire trip together: it was God prompting Tom, our Canadian host to invite me, his suggesting that I bring a wingman, God suggesting Jon as my wingman … that God is going before us preparing the men for whatever unfolds… that He, God, would use this mission for some purpose in our lives! And the question surfaced was, “Given God’s sovereignty, what could happen that we couldn’t handle?” Lose my notes!? “It would be a relief… finally loosed from my dependence upon them I would be free to share my unanchored heart/soul.” We miss a flight!? “That’s simple… it’s an act of God for which we have no control, and actually might be fun.” Jon and I are somehow separated!?“Yeah and so? We’d make it together eventually, and if not? What a story to tell in the years ahead! We crash and die!?“Lori’s rich, I’m in heaven… what could I have done?” We crash and don’t die!?“What a story to tell in the years ahead!” The men hate me!?“Hey, I’m just the messenger.” The men love me, hoist me on their shoulders and worship me as some god!?“What a story to tell for years and years… and years” It’s at this moment I find myself veering off the interstate and mistakenly onto a highway headed the opposite direction. I’m thrown out of my meditative state now facing a circuitous detour and tardy arrival with even less time to get everything done! Immediately I respond will a variety of “French” expressions. Then another question rises and quickly tempers my reaction… “If God is sovereign, is it appropriate to be profane when you make a wrong exit while musing about his control over all things?” I crack up. How quickly my response to disruptive undesired circumstances reveals my governing beliefs about his sovereignty! – Craig McConnell * Excuse the cynicism… it’s hard being a frequent flyer these days!@#?

Craig McConnell

Watching People

I’ll admit to a vivid imagination. It keeps me entertained, humors my friends, endears me to many and is the cause of sporadic troubles. I enjoy “People Watching”*… you know, sitting on a park bench, in a mall or at a sidewalk café watching a parade of God’s glorious and funky creatures… kinda like bird watching except with people. So, I board my flight from LAX to DC on my way to Zurich early (to get “situated” into my assigned seat stow my carry-on stuff; arrange my water bottle, head phones, iPod, journal with a 0.5 mechanical pencil in the seat sleeve; get my gum out and pray that God has sovereignly kept the seat next to me vacant). Sitting on the aisle in the forward compartment of the plane I view everyone pass by to their seats. As I often do, I wonder/imagine what each person’s story is. So much is seen in our countenance, our body language, eyes, and the posture of our soul. I wonder what each traveler is leaving behind or headed to… what hints/clues to their story does their furrowed or furry brow tell? I note the wide range of smiles, styles, scowls, hairdo’s and don’ts, smirks and body shapes; their ”look”, accessories, their gait, weight, demeanor… it’s a virtual circus of lions and mice, glorious and broken… unfinished men posing and hiding; woman both beautiful and abused. Each one with a story and a wound… sometimes hidden, sometimes worn on our “sleeve”. We are a varied, odd, complex and beautiful species. So we’re wheels up and on our way. Is it just me or have you noticed the phenomenal of people changing over the course of a long international flight? Somewhere over the ocean we cross some portal… some seam, a contour, a line where something significant changes… it’s not the International Date Line, but some kind of a personality/character-time dilation-warp-speedo-change-eroonie thingamajig were people are transformed rather quickly. The 300 or so passengers leaving DC were by far your typical looking Americans. The gal across the aisle from me was a house wife from Winnemucca off to visit an old college friend living in Switzerland, the guy next to me … a loud businessman from Maryland intending to seal a deal in Geneva. At some point during my sleep aided nap we crossed that line and everything was different. The economy section was now the Hofbrauhaus, Munchen. It seems the whole plane was speaking German. They’d all morphed. The gal now looks like an alpine farm girl with a handkerchief pattern dress, braided hair and a hearty Béarnaise accent. Mr. Businessman now looks like an old world silver haired clock maker in a frazzled wool vest and wire rim glasses. It’s amazing. I was surprised no one was yodeling. I arrive in Zurich and spend the next nine days teaming with our Swiss allies in the adventure of launching the first Swiss German Boot Camp. It was fascinating, astonishing… wonderful, and life changing. A number of times I simply cried with the joy of witnessing the birth of something dangerous, wild and good in Europe. For over two years Ruedi, Peter, Hansjakob, Andrian and Gerd had been following God, investing blood, sweat and tears** in pursuit of the desire to awaken the hearts of Swiss and German men. Man did they! God came big time. I was so very proud of these men. They’re knuckleheads just like our team: a businessman, physical therapist, a teacher, chemist and a retired professor… and each living in a story far larger than they could have imagined a few years ago. Just like our team. God calls each of us to be someone we’ve never been… it’s who we truly are. God calls each of us to do something we’ve never done… it’s usually the very thing we’ve always wanted to do but never believed we could. It’s what we were made to do. Until we do it, it’s all talk… dreams, hopes… potential… “Woulda shoulda could’ves”. There comes a time when you gotta get up and get out on the dance floor. And as we leave the comfort of the chair, the security of the wide well traveled path for the unique path God has for us we’re changed. It’s some kind of a personality/character- God-authored-transformational-speedo-change-eroonie thingamajig. It’s God. Following Him we’re changed… dramatically at times. When I left Switzerland nine days later these men were different men. They’d been on the dance floor. They’d pursued their dream. They had a new look; countenance, an affirmed strength, a validated gifting, a tested and found true heart. Spring had come for them and they were full bloom. This wasn’t my fanciful imagination. Our Swiss friends became kings of a new domain, leaders in the Large Story of what God is doing in Europe. It’s was amazing. I heard angels yodeling. – Craig McConnell *Urban Dictionary definition of “People Watching”: 1.People watching is when u go around and watch people that u've never met before and, based on their actions, movements, and gestures, guess what kind of people they are and what they do.2.When people with no lives or losers who go out to watch people because they nothing better to do. ** They came to several of our Colorado Boot Camps, the Advanced Camp and flew out for a weekend given to conversation, prayer and developing our relationship. In our interactions, prayers and discussions there was a strong sense that God was orchestrating our relationship and this mission.

Craig McConnell

Der Suisse Question

(I am in Switzerland with some friends/Swiss allies teaming together in presenting a Boot Camp. I’m hoping to post several reflections on this experience.) Throughout the Boot Camp men pulled me aside to tell me their varied stories. Each man genuine in his question, each in a horrible relationship or situation and every one of them, though bound in a shroud of unbelief, exercising some modicum of hope/faith by simply asking their question. The questions were all the same, “Is God enough?” “No, really, is God enough in THESE conditions, given THIS pain, and THIS heartless/unresponsive/emasculating person?” And they were looking to my eyes not my words for the answer. Somewhere in all the God-talk they'd heard along the way much had been left out. A man can live well. A man can know peace and joy; have a rich full life; play an enormous role in God’s story; live an adventure and pursue The Beauty in any and all circumstances and seasons. Largely untold are the profound promises of God to be our Strength, Comfort, Peace and Security, our Helper, Counselor, Friend and Lover. Their stories brought me to tears while, I hope, my eyes flamed their hidden hopes that such a life is, indeed, possible… available, free… here, now! My words spoke of The One True God, who is here and He is neither silent nor inactive… That He is a resting place, a Fortress… that He spreads an extravagant banqueting table before us in the midst of our enemies, and to know Him is to fall on your face with groanings too deep for words… and yet are heard by Armies of Angels as praise and adoration. Looking into His eyes I too am reassured. – Craig McConnell

Craig McConnell

Last Tuesday

So Lori tells me our daughter is bleeding. She’s 17 weeks pregnant 1276 miles away in The City of the Angels. My heart begins to swell. I call her and hear just beneath the surface of her always-joyful life giving voice the silver tongued devil’s fear. I mutter some words, give her my heart expressing my love, and enter the battle for my daughter and the baby in her womb. In the moment I hang up the phone I burst into tears. My father’s heart turns violent in storming the throne of grace so aware that I have nothing but my belief in a powerful, every-present good God. I’m a madman exercising every bit of faith I have… appealing to another Father’s heart for intervention. How little control we have over the most important things in life. Totally dependent, with swelling hope and desire I find myself over and over… a 180,000 times praying for Life… for my grandchild, for my daughter… for my family. The phone call comes. The doctor cannot find a heartbeat. And so there we are… now speechless, still and overcome with pain/loss. Still clinging to God but with a loosened grip while His grip has tightened. Death has such a sting… When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory." "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?"The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 57But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. – 1 Corinthians 15 Life will prevail. -Craig McConnell

Craig McConnell