Articles & Posts
The Taxi
Lori and I fly into LA ostensibly for me to officiate the wedding of one of my daughter’s friends. The wedding is on the beach where we lived prior to God’s calling us to Colorado (“on the beach”… how “cool” is that!?). Friday night the rehearsal on the sand goes well. Yeah the marine layer moves in a little early… and the on shore breeze is brisk… but hey it’ll be great manana. (Note, while I tend to over plan for every contingency I still view myself as an optimist). Following the rehearsal dinner fare I’m caught flat footed by the affection the two families express toward one another… I feel like a voyeur peeping in on the intimacy of others. I wonder why love surprises me… am I a cynic? A little back story, lately I’ve been picturing, The Apostle John in extreme old age at Ephesus being carried into the congregation in the arms of his disciples unable to say anything except “little children, love one another”. At last, wearied that he always spoke the same words, they asked: “Master, why do you always say this?” “Because”, he replied, “it is the Lord’s command, and if this only is done, it is enough”.* As every broken, disappointing, sinful, foolish, evil and wacky person in my orbit scrolls across my mind I find the simplicity of the command to love God and others deeply disrupting and profoundly descriptive of my deepest desire. It is astonishing that in the presence of love I doubt it, run from it or am startled by it. The nature of these relationships unfolding in heartfelt tested words of appreciation and gratitude, a slide show and music speaks to the life I want so very much to live. I leave the dinner with a hunger to be the apostle John muttering over and over “Oh my friends, love one another… it is enough to love” from some deep true place. The next day, Saturday, is the wedding and despite my unfailing optimism the marine layer blows in at hurricane category 4 strength.And so the wedding crowd of 100 is blown into a tight circle of family and friends. Prior to the bride’s entry the one girl who everyone’s eyes were upon was the one wearing the full length Alaska parka with fur lined hood… (A contingency option I did not consider). We were huddled like penguins on the sand as Claire and Doug’s magic moment unfolds. Forsaking all others I choose you to love and cherish forever and always no matter the circumstances (richer or poorer, better or worse, joy or sorrow, sickness or health…) till death do we part I will be there for you. They are so in love… so good for one another… so young… and beneath my pastoral smile is a smug/arrogant posture, Ahh… it has taken Lori and me thirty-three years to reach that level of blissful raging agape self sacrifice!!!! So with a weekend filled with wedding festivities, all-too-brief visits with our kids and a visit to our favorite taco joint we’re ready to face whatever United Airlines throws at us and return to Colorado. Up rolls the taxi we called for the eleven mile scamper up to LAX, the cabbie bounds out of the Chevy, flicks his cigarette butt in our friends rose garden and with a few hand motions and heavily accented broken English-grunts motions for us to get in… and so we do. Now let me quickly insert that I’ve ridden many a taxi in the renowned cities of the world and survived! A taxi ride is a taxi ride… you go to Mac Donald's for cheap burgers, Home Depot for chain saws and taxi rides for near death experiences… right? So we peel out of the driveway taking the first turn on two wheels! He’s breaking every speed law, dodging parked cars, cutting off slow pokes and alternating between “G” force accelerations and crash test braking (which includes some front end clanking and sharp veering to the right). About three blocks into the ride we can smell some combination of his cologne, hot brakes and radiator fluid. Somewhere between running a red light and nearly hitting an odd looking Dodger fan on single blade skates pushing a refrigerator across the pedestrian zone I’m getting a little annoyed at my wife…. Lori. She’s got a death grip on the back of his seat… she’s hyper-ventilating, gasping… she’s in some kind of a panic-funk and for some reason giving me the stink eye. She’s stressing … a bit over dramatic and I’m thinking “Hey… pull it together woman… it’s an E ticket, what do you expect” We get to the airport and she’s not speaking to me. What’s with that? So in true “husbands love your wife as Christ loves the church” fashion I feign ignorance and compassion asking, “What’s wrong with you?” To which she responds with “stink eye” times ten… saying so much more than the words spoken convey, I don’t want to talk about it”. After a calming glass of wine and a long eighteen minutes she begins to cry and with shaking voice share with me how she’s never been more terrified for her life and that I totally missed/abandoned/failed her. And I did. I missed/abandoned/failed her. Totally. I could have/should have done something… I wish I had done something, anything. I did nothing. That’s not the man I want to be. Little children love one another. Till death do we part I will be there for you. I’m a much better lover now than I was ten years ago but there’s still a little more ground to cover before I’m a finished model of blissful raging agape self sacrifice. – Craig McConnell * Commentator/expositor John Stott in his commentary on The Epistles of John cites Jerome’s re-telling of this story of ‘blessed John the evangelist’.
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Craig McConnell
Fairy Tales
It was Chesterton, years ago while reading his Orthodoxy, who first really helped me see that we live in a Fairy Tale. The world we live in is fantastic beyond description, but we get dull to it and forget. So we tell each other fairy tales so that we turn again to our world and see it for what it is. Anyhow, I was bow hunting this weekend with my son Blaine and my friend Morgan, high up in the mountains of Colorado. It involves a lot of long hours just sitting still and being quiet in the woods. Which is a beautiful time for taking in the world again. Saturday morning Blaine and I were poised over a water hole, on the edge of a dark forest, and I was watching dragon flies cruising around the little pond. They look like miniature biplanes. Blaine nudges me, shows me a tiny lime green inch worm on his hand. Really now, dragon flies? Inch worms? Who would have thought of this? You could not have made this world up, it is so amazing. This world is fairy tale through and through. Anyhow, a squirrel runs down the branch of a tree we are sitting under, and makes it clear he doesn’t like us being there. I sort of shoo him off and for five minutes all is silent. Then one by one, missiles start raining down from above. Thwack. Thwack. Like artillery. The squirrel is in the top of the 30 foot fir tree, throwing hard cones down on us. I kid you not. This goes on for about five minutes, all still silent, but the missiles coming in. He finally hits Blaine, and at the very moment bursts out in chatter, is if he were laughing. I think he was. Fairy Tale. How did I not see it before?
John Eldredge
The Twerp
A friend, Vern, responded to one of my Blog entries with words that made me pause, sit up straight, look out the window and wonder. I enjoy being caught off guard by the welling up of desire within from some unfolding drama (drama that I may or may not be directly involved in); from the words of others, from beauty or pain. Just yesterday I was on the ground jabbering and teasing the son of one of my colleagues here at Wild at Heart and out of nowhere he says to me, “You’re goofy…”. Surprise! There it was… the final assessment of my entire life…. Through the innocent and sweet playfulness of this 5 year old a tsunami of defining desire and terrible fear overwhelmed me. And though I chuckled and continued “goofing off” with him I was lost in the desire for my life to leave a lasting imprint and the aged fear that it may not! Oh Lord… I so long to be a life-changer, a sage, the Friend of God, the General Douglas MacArthur of an army of warriors, the Michael Phelps of authentic intimate Christianity, a poet/writer, the “real deal”… “goofy” isn’t the epitaph I’m living and dying for! I don't want to be "goofy”! I get up off the floor and gracefully left the little twerp to hide from our company in the woods for a few minutes and to cry out to God for his grace… his validation… his words. He (God, not the twerp) is everywhere setting ambushes, leaping out from behind delightful kids, delayed flights, a song, the sound of crickets, an email from a friend… the disappointments of community. Through all this and more he raises up desire, fears, wounds… all sorts of things and invites us into the healing, comfort and holiness he offers. – Craig
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Craig McConnell
Boot Camp Week
Its Boot Camp week here at Wild at Heart. 450 men from all over the world are heading to Colorado for a profound encounter with God. We just finished packing the U Haul we take up to Crooked Creek Ranch with all our stuff in it. Work crew guys are flying in today. Part of our team will head up this afternoon to the camp, the rest tomorrow morning. There is excitement in the air. This is a Boot Camp week, and man, can we tell. All sorts of warfare flying around here. Physical stuff like internal bleeding and chest pains. Sleeplessness. Emotional stuff like marital tension, and all sorts of agreements being “suggested” by the enemy. Oppressive “fog.” Its like he comes, probing the perimeter, looking for some way in. The reason for boatloads of assault is that these weekends are some of the most profound, healing, freeing, life-changing weekends these men will ever in their lives experience. No joke. Its a big deal. It will change hundreds of lives forever. When you rescue a man, the reverberations of that are almost limitless. You rescue a marriage, and a family. You rescue his children, and generations after them. Its as though a deep rift in the fabric of the world is healed. So thank you for praying for me and the team these next five days. Your prayers really matter. We can literally feel them. They help protect us, and that sets us free to go after these guys. Sat down to breakfast this morning, alone in the kitchen. I’d been asking God for a scripture for this weekend. He gave Isaiah 49:24–25. “Can plunder be taken from warriors, or captives rescued from the fierce? But this is what the Lord says: ‘Yes, captives will be taken from warriors and plunder retrieved from the fierce; I will contend with those who contend with you, and your children I will save.’” Far out. Let’s do this thing.
John Eldredge
The Neighbor's RV
And so after 3 delays the announcement is made that our United flight from Denver to LAX will be delayed another 2 hours! The frustration/anger/rage is palatable in the seating area at the gate… and is stoked with this announcement as the third different reason for the delay is given. The guy sitting next to me goes Krakatoa on the United personnel leaving/fleeing the gate area (what must these dear souls do or kill to survive this on a daily/hourly basis?). It was the perfect storm of body language, a enraged red face with seething eyes, a sailors vocabulary, an exhibit of fine motor skill with his fingers coupled with the projection of an maniacal anger over his father wound, being beat up by a bully in third grade, losing the commission he had banked on, getting shorted on a purchase by the bookstore clerk and a marriage that after 12 years isn’t all he hoped it would be. He erupted. Big time. And in a moment it was over… it was quiet. Everyone went back to reading USA Today, listen to ipods or moving towards the bar. He remained sitting… I’m one seat over taking it all in. 10 minutes later he calls home and I overhear him… fathering his young son… with joy, fully engaged; sensitive, lovingly he listened and spoke as he caught up on his sons day before telling his wife that his arrival home is delayed again. In those moments he was the dad I hope I am. The juxtaposition of the two moments was stark. It’s amazing what lies just beneath the surface of many a good person. Difficult circumstances, delayed flights, uncaring/unaffected people bring it all up. And somewhere in my thoughts I wondered about myself… and who might see something very similar in me. So much that I want to avoid in life God is behind. I don’t like delayed flights, the cost of gas, controlling manipulative people, know-it-alls, budgets, health concerns, the neighbor’s RV parked in front of my house… and yet I know God uses “trials” to offer us life. Life in the deep dark regions of our being. – Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
What I have been reading this summer
I’m probably not alone in finding that summer allows a little more room for reading than the rest of the year. I’m not sure all the reasons for that. Part of it is schedule – things tend to really ramp up in the Eldredge house and at Wild at Heart September through May. But part of it is mindset. There just seems to be a little more breathing room as my soul rests a bit in summer. So, I’ve been reading and loving the opportunity to read. Here’s what I’ve been enjoying this past month: Teewinot, climbing and contemplating the teton range by Jack Turner. Our family has been camping every summer in the Tetons since Luke was 3. (He just turned 15). This stunning part of God’s creation holds a special place in our hearts, and is always a rich part of our summer for seven days. Finally I found a book about life in the Tetons by someone who loves them as much as me. Turner is a old climbing guide, a naturalist, and a good writer. The Solace of Open Spaces, by Gretel Ehrlich. Okay, the title alone is worth this little book. It’s true, we need open spaces in our lives. They do something deeply healing and orienting in our souls. (Abraham, Jacob, Elijah, John the Baptist, Jesus, the desrt fathers all knew this). Ehrlich came to Wyoming from New York to film a series for PBS on sheep herding. She ended up staying seven years. She, too, is a good writer. And I love Wyoming. The Warriors, reflections on men in battle by J Glenn Gray. A remarkable book. Gray was drafted into WWII right after he received his doctorate in philosophy. He is a keenly perceptive, self-aware and reflective man, and he writes about both the power of war upon the soul of men, and its costs, with such grace and humility. I don’t agree with everything he says, but when he is right he is really right. The Way of the Wild Heart. I know, I know, it might seem really weird that I’m reading my own book, and even more weird that I’m recommending it here by way of mention. But the truth is, I don’t usually read a book of my own once its finished, and it takes a few years to get enough distance to read them with appreciation. What I am struck by is that this is a really good book. I wish every man would read it. Summer is winding to a close. I can feel the pressures of September crouching just ahead, ready to pounce. Sigh. I wish I could read like this all year.
John Eldredge
Context is Everything
My world is full of people I see out of their context. Being myopic sets me up for judging others, withholding love, arrogance… I view them as dorks… I rock. If I understood/saw a person’s context… their glory, I’d be stunned, amazed, humbled and so aware of the diversity of God’s people. Context is everything. Sig Hansen is captain of the Northwestern. He’s a tough SOB in the wheel house of his crab boat a couple of hundred miles NE of Dutch Harbor on the vast and unpredictable Bering sea … he’s taking on 50 foot waves, brutal weather, freezing spray that adds tons of ice to his ship making it dangerously top heavy… he’s top dog of some pretty tough sea-dogs, a few greenhorn slackers… he’s a man’s man. Why was I so startled in the final episode of Discovery Channel’s Deadliest Catch as the crabbing season ends and Sig walks away from his boat on the wharf, on land… and he looks so pedestrian, so normal…actually nerdy… he’s no longer a sea captain commanding the seas… he might as well be former librarian in between jobs filling in at the auto parts store till he finds something more permanent… a mid-west physical education teacher who’s lost his heart and is just passing time till he retires in another fifteen years. His walk, pace, size, his “look” suddenly stands out on shore in ways they didn’t 200 miles off the Siberian Coast in a Winter gale… he’s out of his context and looks so… different, so, not himself… you would never know what he’s capable of / what he does. The professor I idolized as a 25 year old seminarian I bump into at a conference at Pasadena Nazarene twenty years later. I sat in Dr. James Pucssor's (Not his real name) class willing to give my left testicle/thumb/ear-lobe to be like him. His knowledge of the Word of God, the reverent way he turned the pages in his Bible, the patient soft spoken yet authoritative way he responded to the arrogant and foolish challenges we threw at him. He was Jesus Christ slicing and dicing every errant exposition and theology lacking the full backing of Scripture. He was a swordsman. But there on the patio decades later as we chatted he was a relational cripple. He could no more relax and interact with people than I could do an Iron Cross. So out of his context… so capable somewhere else, but here a relational zero. The cowboy at Chicago O’hare who looks so very out of place among the business commuters flying United flight #1694 to Los Angeles. The flight is delayed. His hat, the belt buckle; the way he stands, the wrinkles on his face, the strength of his hands… every stinking thing about this man exudes confidence, manliness. He’s sitting on the floor leaning up against the wall at gate B42. I decide to sit next to him and see if I can stealthily hear a bit of his story. And bingo, we began a conversation… I’m mesmerized. He speaks slowly, an economy of words… nothing fancy, nothing pretentious; he’s in no hurry, unfazed by the frantic anxieties of the commuters surrounding him; his voice is deep, everything about him is understated. It’s the Rock of Gibraltar with a voice. He works on a 10,000 acre cattle ranch in the Dakota’s. He and his blue heeler spend weeks at a time out tending the herd; there’s stories of thunder and lightening, mountain lion, stampedes, weeks seeing no human… dark cold starlit nights. . Whoa… I’m a twelve year old sitting at the feet of a man. I’m in my Nordstrom buttoned-down-collar oxford, wide wale cords… I’ve got my brief case… I’m a pastor in a mega-church who spends most of my 40 weekly hours in meetings word-smithing mission statements… intervening in an argument between two committees about the color of the “Sanctuary” carpet… I know how to organize a garage and put things in labeled zip lock baggies. This guy doesn’t fit in my world nor I in his… but this is the guy I’d want by my side in any crisis. We’d…. he’d survive anything thrown at him… us, without flinching. This is the guy I want to be. But, here, at Gate B42, he’s in my world… in this world he’s looks the dork…and I rock! And you… what’s your context? What’s true about you that others would never know because they haven’t seen you in your context? Look around. Who, not knowing your context views/misunderstands you as a dork when, in your context... you ROCK!!? – Craig McConnell (Journal Entry)
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Craig McConnell
How Much of God is in a Single Day?
Today is Sunday. The 20th of July. I woke up feeling anxious. Looked at my watch. 6:11. No need to jump out of bed just yet, so I lingered there in order to pay attention to the anxiety. What is this about Lord? Why am I feeling anxious? I lay there for about twenty minutes, just sort of inviting Jesus into the nameless fear and asking him to heal and deliver, all the while paying attention to what is going on inside of me and what it is God might want to reveal. Why am I anxious? What is going on down in my soul? Yes, this might be warfare. But it might also be something more. Something needing attention. For the past couple days, I’ve been aware (again) of how I hurl myself at life. My ethic is “Stay on top of things.” This I have known for sometime. But the newer revelations have to do with this nagging sense of “I’m blowing it” (this is the G rated version). I often feel that I’m blowing it. I wondered what this had to do with the anxiousness. What do I pray, Lord? “Ask my life to come in. My life.” Yes, it’s about the life of God. So laying there in bed, I’m praying for the life of God to come in. Later, I am saying my morning prayers. And what is becoming clear to me is how in my youth, through my wounds, I came to believe life is up to me, and how I turned to self-preservation through striving and staying on top of things. I felt I needed to repent of that, right now. I knew how the Enemy gets a stronghold in our lives when we come to these deep resolutions toward self-preservation (they are godless, whatever form they take). I did not turn to God in my youth; I turned to myself. It created an awful burden, to stay on top of things. Now I am anxious. Is there any real wonder why? It felt like a continuation of the prayer time in bed. Jesus, forgive me. Come into this. Cleanse me, heal me. What was so right on about God’s guidance to invite his life in is that when we live by the life of God, he the Vine and we the branches, then we are connected as we were meant to be, and life is not up to us. So I prayed for the Life of God to come into all these anxious places. Now, all of this is before breakfast. Later I go into what we call the “bunkhouse.” It’s where the boys sleep when we are at the ranch. But it is empty. The boys left for home about an hour ago. I am just checking around, making sure they didn’t leave anything and wham, I am hit with the fact that they are gone, maybe for the last time this summer. The bunkhouse is empty. Another season is passing. What follows hard on that realization is grief. How quickly they are growing up, how time is flying by. How it hurts to have them gone, to have this season passing. I sit outside for a few minutes so as not to blow by this moment. It feels tender, and profound. I am suddenly aware of how hard I try to make life work, how fleeting life is, and how little I think about heaven. I’m remembering this feeling, this sense of something golden lost, and how it used to usher me into the realization that my hopes have to be fixed on heaven or I am just striving to make life work and setting myself up for a massive letdown. And loss of heart. All of this before 2pm. What I left out of this record was some rich moments of thinking about Jesus and our friendship, enjoying the hummingbirds, Luke and I looking at some mountain lion tracks, and a dozen other things. And I find myself wondering – how much of God is there in a single day? I mean, holy cow. If we will but pay attention, take notice both of what is going on inside us, and around us, and talk to God about it…wow. How much is he bringing to us in a single day?
John Eldredge
Tuesday
Last Wednesday most of the men of Wild at Heart… (sounds like a potential calendar)… went on a night hike up to The Crags above Colorado Springs. It was cloudy and windy. Someone mentioned it probably wasn’t a great idea to be huddled on the top of an exposed Crag with lightening off in the distance… (party pooper)… so we hiked out without enjoying a good cigar together as we had hoped. It was good… it is good to be together as men. Thursday I had a brief telephone conversation with John who was calling from some mountain ridge in the boon docks of N.W. Colorado while on vacation. The wind was howling and so was I. I love that guy! We need friends… I have a few… they’re scattered about the country…I’m smiling just thinking about em. On Friday Morgan organized a work crew of the men at Wild at Heart… (sounds less like a potential calendar)… to clean up, organize and redecorate one of the lower level rooms at our Outpost that has been “neglected”. Morgan, apparently having watched Extreme Make Over: Home Edition was our Ty Pennington…. leading the charge with a flair that could be described as nouveau Pittsburgh. It's a crack up seeing 7 men, all of them leaders, in a 15X15 room bumping into one another; shouting out orders/advice while cleaning, fixing the ceiling, organizing cupboards, hanging pictures, mounting rifles, swords and an array of memoralbila…. it was great! I work with a bunch of knuckle-heads… knuckle-heads with varying levels of aesthetics and taste. I wouldn’t want to work with anyone else. Not even Ty Pennington. On Saturday several of us (men and women, friends and spouses)… went to PJ’s Workout Boot Camp. (As I write this Monday PM…. several are still very sore… can you spell ALEX, SUE, MORGAN?). It was a brutal as PJ tried, in 60 minutes, to turn us into Navy SEALS... he worked us. We were heaving heavy balls, doing push-ups, "explosive" lunges, some-kind-of-full-body-torture-thingie, we were runnin, huffin and a puffin… we were racing, jumping, doing rapid squats, heaving more heavy balls…you get the picture. It was good to suffer together in some shared mission… it’s good to be friends-who-also-work-together… and we thank God for Ibuprofen. Sunday Am… several of us and a few friends had a brunch with Julie J. and her “friend”, AKA Robert. Getting to know Julie, she wanted him to taste a little bit of her community as well. Ahhh… Monkey Bread, quiche, mimosa, fresh fruit, earthy coffee and wonderful conversation and laughs. Lots and lots of laughs. It is good to laugh… laugh with others... and share a meal together. Today… Monday. Kind of an ordinary day… I got an appointment with the Fremont Court mixed up…. it’s tomorrow… I thought it was today… wore my khaki pants and blue Oxford button down collar shirt for nothing… (it was regarding a traffic ticket… okay, okay I was speeding; BUT it was the last hour of a 19 hour drive back from L.A….. and I had to pass a slow moving garbage truck before the passing lane ended… State Patrol wouldn’t give me a break. I should have had my old “clergy” bumper sticker!?#$?). I had another telephone conversation with John… who was once again on some mountain crest that had AT&T coverage... we covered my "Things to Discuss With John Check List" in about 14 minutes. Checking in is good... vacations are good. I missed a conversation with Kevin in Manassas, got caught up on email (what happened to my New Year’s Resolution to answer every email within a week?!#$%&*?!). Had some meetings, enjoyed conversation and an iced Americano with Sue at Starbucks… yapped a bit with Bart in So. CA.; interrupted a meeting Paul was having by cracking a joke that bombed… read a bit of a book someone sent me and encouraged Brad to take a sick day after being thrown from his bike during a lunch time ride. With those scrapes and that 4 inch bump on his forehead he will definetly not be at the Men of Wild at Heart Calendar photo shoot tomorrow… Tuesday. – Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
Summer So Far
I was thinking today about the things I’ve been enjoying this summer. In the midst of war, and chaos, stolen cars, sleepless nights, all that stuff, it’s really good to remember what is beautiful, and true. Most True. So here’s my favorites from summer thus far… Butterflies. Especially the big yellow and black monarchs. I love them, love their nonchalance, love how God seems to send one my way right when I am stressing and obsessing about something. A playful reminder to lighten up. The wind in the tall grass. Its like an ocean of swaying green hues. How the breeze in the aspens sounds like a gentle rain shower. Oban playing his rock game. He loves to find a rock and push it around with his nose, then jump on it because it’s “getting away” then push it around again. Its hysterical. Fishing with the boys. One evening we hit it just right, and the fish were rising and the boys kept catching one after another and the evening was so beautiful from a canoe on a lake. Banana Cream Pie. My grandmother used to make a killer pie, and its been years since I had one. For father’s day Stasi made a banana cream pie from scratch and it was scandalously good. The Romance. I was praying a few months ago, “Jesus, I want you back.” I realized that my relationship with God has been so much defined either by getting counsel and guidance for all that I am leading, or by battling the frequent warfare. The effect of this over time is to lose the Romance with God. I found myself really missing simply being with God, loving him. Beginning to get this back is the highlight of the summer.
John Eldredge
Chest-less-rats-for-men
We took a week to vacation with our friends and family over the Fourth in So. Cal. On Sunday Lori and I attended the church my son-in-law is planting in Redlands. As it happens he’s teaching on one of my Top 10 Most Disruptive Things Christ Said/Did… Christ says: You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven…If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. - Matthew 5 My first reaction is along the lines of, “Love your enemies!” Yeah, right… It’s hard enough loving my wife who I do profoundly love and who loves me like no other”. Are you serious? It’s so easy to dismiss this passage! And yet I cannot for God is very present. My second reaction: xxxxxxxxxxxxxx!?#%*&?!xxxxxxx!?#%*&?!xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Okay… all of that to say I’ve written a paragraph… a lengthy paragraph giving my second reaction but can’t include it. God won’t let me. It may be my best writing…it’s a sharp/terse detailed paragraph describing a couple of low life weasels that I consider enemies. Using names, dates and collaborating witnesses I lay out their offenses against both me and the God who judges the living and the dead righteously (I mean, after all is said and done… it’s their offense against God that most offends me.) Well, in any case… God won’t let me include that paragraph… He simply, kindly yet firmly and continually redirects my focus from these chest-less-rats-for-men… these wolves posing as sheep who’s misbehavior have done harm to me and my family (and many others) to this conditional-loving-no-better-than-a-pagan nice guy. God points out that I’m more concerned with their failures to live well than mine…while He seems more concerned with my failures than theirs. It’s so disrupting that I’m apparently the center of his attention and NOT them… does he not know the full story?! Quite honestly if it’s an enemy worth his salt one feels pretty justified in being smug, judging, hating, bad mouthing, avoiding and pondering all the “upsides” to retaliation. I do. Yet God will not let me go there… he is speaking to something within me… he’s calling out some true part of me. This passage can’t be set aside as a description of life in a distant and other-worldly millennium! It’s descriptive of a life in the here-and-now transformed by the full work of Christ… the Gospel! Might it actually be possible to live holy… loving lives? Can we genuinely in some form or fashion love our enemies? To live free from the control others misbehavior/sin/hatred/meanness seems to have upon us? So much of my life is shaped by the formula: I love those who love me; I hate those who hate me. Love me and I’ll love you, hate me and I’ll hate you. How you live your life has greater influence over me than God. There’s another way to live and it is really, really, really possible… and I want to live that life. I’d love for my enemies to change; God ‘s insisting that I do. Love means to love that which is unlovable, or it is no virtue at all. - G.K. Chesterton
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Craig McConnell
Distraction and Prayer
I have the hardest time staying focused in prayer. I know I’m not alone in this. My mind wanders; I get distracted. I start out with my thoughts and heart turned towards God, but somewhere along the way I wander off. Most of the time its stuff I have to do today, or people I’m worried about. I’m praying along and suddenly I realize that though I have kept saying words in prayer, my heart and mind are a million miles away. It’s embarrassing. Like inviting someone over to talk, sitting down in the living room together, and then suddenly you realize you’ve been staring at the TV and ignoring your company. It’s also ineffective, in the sense that it really does derail prayer. What to do? Years ago I was sitting under a man’s teaching in my church. He was teaching about prayer. And of all the things he said, the one thing that’s helped me most was this one thought: When you realize you are distracted, don’t just plow ahead. Stop, go back, and pick up again with the prayer at the last point in which you were engaged. Sort of like wandering in the woods; don’t just keep going. Stop, back up, retrace your steps, go back and pick up the trail where you last left it, and then carry on. I find I have to do this a lot, and I find it’s helped me a whole lot. It brings me back to God, centers me. It makes prayer far more meaningful, far more intentional. And therefore, far more effective. I meant to share this in the series I did awhile back on The Hope of Prayer, but I forgot. Or got distracted (!). And it’s been on my heart to offer it to you ever since. So there you go. Hope it’s helpful.
John Eldredge
Julie M.
She has a laugh, a distinctive laugh… it’s disarming and inviting… it has “Welcome, relax, life is good” woven in and out of it. Julie Musilli has a way about her… a presence…it’s delightful, warm, easing… winsome… she is a “called alongside one”… she’s all there and all that is there is good. Her Outpost office has been a center, the meeting place, the gathering place for Staff. In her cozy office is a well placed overstuffed chair that beckons you “Come, sit, share, rest… it’s safe here”. Particularly but not exclusively for the women, it’s there that we find some soulful oxygen, a nourishment of kindness and care, for solace, counsel… even strength. Julie listens, listens well and offers words… if needed courageous words of clarity. Julie is relationally intuitive… insightfull, fully engage… her curiosity/questions are always gentle in exposing the deeper/core issues beneath our perplexities. She brings hope. In so many ways Julie is full of life, actually she’s overflowing with life. Julie is with child and will birth Josiah in early August; and so she leaves Wild at Heart to mother a boy as many an older boy wishes he had been. Julie is a good mother… a life giver. Josiah is blessed. We have been. We are so very happy for her in our loss of her. (Picture is of Julie and her husband PJ)
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Craig McConnell
Resurrection
So, I’m sitting up on the hillside behind our house early this morning, praying. I love to pray outside when I can, and this morning was beautiful. Anyhow, you might remember from Walking with God the story of Scout’s death (our family’s beloved golden retriever). That took place in December of ’06, and we buried Scout up on the hill in the scrub oak, near where I was praying this morning. You might also recall that we got a new puppy last summer. He’s a golden, and his name is Oban. He’s a year old now, but still very much a puppy at heart (and in the brain) and he sort of runs around while I pray and chases rocks (!?) and finds sticks and brings them back to me. Anyhow, as I was praying I saw Oban out of the corner of my eye and turned to see what the rascal was up to. He was standing on the spot where we had buried Scout. You have to take this in visually – here is this adorable year-old golden retriever full of life and curiosity, standing in the very place of Scout, the place that commenorates his death. I was so struck by the living, vibrant, three dimensional picture of the resurrection. We don’t always know how God restores or how he comes to fill the places of loss in our lives, but he does. He does. This all took place in the very moment I happened to be praying through that part of my daily prayer where I am receiving the resurrection life of Jesus. It was a stunning gift from him, a living proof that life prevails. Life is the truest thing.
John Eldredge
Finding Real Vacation
I was chatting with a few friends the other day about our trip to Kauai, and the car theft, and all that, and we got to talking about how important summer vacation is for all of us, and it led to some thoughts I wanted to share with you. First, we really need vacations, just as we really need Sabbath rest each week. There’s a rhythm to life. The heart beats, then it rests. It beats, then rests. We wake each morning, then we sleep every night. We wake, then we sleep. We spend energy, then we take in food to replenish what we spent. Vacation is like that. We’ve got to have periods of rest and joy and beauty in our year. So here is what we’ve learned about vacations: First, ask God! Don’t just assume you know what is best this summer. Ask God what he’d have you do, and when, and with whom. Too many folks squander their vacation because they don’t ask God what he has for them. We went to Kauai because we prayed about it last winter, several times. “Where should we go, Lord? For how long?” Visits are not vacations. Most folks spend their vacation time visiting relatives. That rarely is restful and restoring. Visits are not vacations. Don’t confuse the two. Pray over your vacation beforehand! You know there is a thief. You know he hates joy. The mistake we often make is somehow thinking that vacation time is exempt from the Battle. It’s not. I spent weeks ahead of time praying over our Kauai trip – praying for safety. For the weather. For our travel. For our love as a family to be full. Don’t spend your vacation running. Too many times the temptation is to fill the time with busy-ness, running here and there, touring, trying to “fit it all in.” Most folks get home and need a vacation from their vacation. Don’t squander it running around. We spent most our time within a few miles of the place we stayed. Resting. Being renewed. Don’t drop your guard. The temptation when we get to wherever it is we were going for vacation is to drop our usual prayer life, drop our armor, and think “this is time out.” It’s not. To protect the time, I got up early every morning and prayed hard over the day. Don’t be lulled into a false security.Okay. Now ask God what he has for you this summer.
John Eldredge
Beans The Birthday Dog
My granddaughter named her lab puppy “Beans The Birthday Dog”. Not “Ranger” nor “Blue”, “Buddy”, “Max” or “Spot”… apparently “Wrangler” didn’t cross her mind nor “Fido”. I was told the abbreviated “Beans” was not acceptable… it’s Beans The Birthday Dog. And it fits perfectly. I of all people should now the importance of a name.– Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
Stress
So, we got back Tuesday morning from two wonderful weeks away on vacation. And already I can feel the old stress wanting to creep back in. There’s a ton of stuff to get done now. I can feel the sort of gripping pain in my gut that is an old, old mark of stress. Dangit. I don’t want to just throw it all back into “high gear.” Is it inevitable? Do we just get a taste of a different pace of life, but it doesn’t ever have a lasting effect? I’m wondering – how can we make meaningful changes? I mean, I have these sorts of experiences several times a year. I get away and get some perspective. I see my life from a different point of view, see some things I’d like to change. But over time the revelation fades, and it feels like I have to learn the lesson all over again. I hate that. Doesn’t lasting change really happen? Is the Matrix inevitable? So here’s what I’m thinking – what small changes can I make that would reflect the clarity I have, while I still have it? Before the revelation fades into the busy-ness of life, what can I do to go with it, run with it, make decisions that will help it linger? Today, it was stop and have lunch. I usually work through lunch, if I take it at all. I know its just a sign of that nose-to-the-grindstone mentality, and so today, I stopped and ate lunch without doing anythng else. Just lingered. “Wasted time,” so to speak. It’s a small change, but a significant one for me at least. Now I’m going to leave early. Another small choice. A good one.
John Eldredge
29
Today my first born daughter turns 29… it was only a moment ago I held her for the first time promising her an unconditional-uninterrupted life of love that as a 27 year old father I knew nothing of. I pledged her a strength I didn’t yet have, a wisdom I would have 29 years later and my full engagement in her every season of growth. I would not spare the rod. I would seize every teachable moment and grow her God’s way. This little gift would be celebrated, know the fear of the Lord, and be fathered in her unique and special gifting. I would always be there for her… I repeat, always there for her. I meant every single word, and I fell short of each. Every parent, no matter how godly and loving, falls short and in some way wounds their child. For a variety of reasons it’s inevitable. Was it the night I didn’t get up to comfort her… letting her cry herself asleep? Was it my dismissal of her pain when she scraped her knee for the first time? Or my kinda- just- beneath- the- surface seething that oozed out during the teens years? Maybe it was grounding her for lying only to find out that she hadn’t. I’ll bet it was my impatience teaching her how to drive a stick shift… or some other moment I’m entirely unaware of? I am a pretty good father. I wish I had been the father I am now back when the girls were little. Guess how I became the father I am now. God used my children to grow me up… to father me… to sculpt me a little more into His image. I think God uses parenting to change/parent us more than he uses us to nurture our children (and in saying that I don’t for a moment want to minimize the affect/importance of our parenting upon our kids). At age 27 I couldn’t be the parent I am at 55. I’m not the father at 55 I will be at 70. That’s the way it is. Seriously, God primarily used my kids to get to so many of the governing issues and abiding sins of my life. Unfortunately in that less-sanctified state I fell short as a dad and no doubt wounded my girls. AND God has shown up for all of us. I worship my gracious God who has both forgiven me and redeemed the oh so many failings… I love my daughters and now their daughters fully aware of the life my words, “you are beautiful… you fill my heart with sheer joy” bring them. And in moments together snuggling on the couch or sitting around enjoying a cup of coffee together or in aisle 7 looking for an iron at Target I tell stories of those difficult seasons, I share my story and I let them into the grief I have over my sin and the impact it must have had on them. And I leave the door open for them to raise with me anything I might have done/said that lingers… and we talk, snuggle, finish the coffee and pay for the iron. They know my love… and it covers a multitude of sins. And in all of this they, as parents, see all that awaits them… the unconditional-uninterrupted of love of their Heavenly Father. – Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
The Thief
Sunday night about 11pm, just after we’d fallen asleep, somebody broke into the little house we are staying in on Kauai. They grabbed some cash from my wallet and Stasi’s purse, took the keys and stole the rental car. Pretty crazy. I mean, this is a small island. Where are they going to take a stolen car?? We didn’t realize the theft had occurred until about 6:30 the next morning. We’d gotten up early to head out to the Napali Coast, and couldn’t find the car keys. I thought, “Maybe I left them in the car,” went out to have a look, and there is no car! Then we find the window broken into, and the missing cash. At first, we were kinda shook. Not big time, but geez – to be broken into in a really small little cottage while we were barely asleep. Creepy. And the morning was filled with stress as we had to call the police, tell Hertz somebody stole their car, do the reports, get a ride back to the airport and get another car, all that. But here is what is really cool – about an hour after noon we decided to just put it all behind us and go for a family outing. Thanks to the prayers and support of our friends, who really rallied around us, we were so free to just let it all go, don’t let it pull us down, and take the high road of walking with God through the rest of our vacation. I was so struck by what a difference it makes in how we respond to the thief. Yes, sometimes he does steal, and there is no question he is trying to wreck a desperately needed vacation. But the thing is, we don’t have to let him then steal our joy, too. We really do have options on how we will respond. We really can take the high road, give it all over to God, and in the end we win because we hang onto our perspective, and our joy. Somewhere in a cane field there’s an abandoned Mercury Mountaineer. Meanwhile, we’re going for a swim.
John Eldredge
Giving What We Don't Have
We live with a grievous void. Much of what God desired for us as children can only come through our parents. Growing up we’ve received wounds and self sustaining messages that bloom into deep agreements. We view ourselves as deeply scarred, broken, damaged, and crippled… and we are. The void, the shame is real, deep, powerful… our wounds, their messages, the impact seems lasting. It often feels like the truest thing about us. Our every breath is a desperate attempt to relieve/lift/appease the shame/self-contempt/loathing that fills each day. Such is the affect of our wounded-ness. And somewhere along the way we find God… and we find ourselves parents. And to our children we give that which we never received. It’s glorious, strong, compassionate, deeply true, merciful, kind… it speaks more truly of who we are than the haunting messages of our wounds. My wife Lori went into to our seven year old daughter’s room to tuck her in and say “goodnight”. It was the usual custom; Meagan would have her rub her back, her shoulders, her arms… with the repeated encouragement and gratefulness, “Oh mommy keep doing that… that feels so good!” One night out of the blue she asks Lori, “Did Papa (referring to Lori’s dad) rub your back at night mommy?” It was all too short of a pause before Lori said, “No… no, Papa never rubbed my back”. Meagan’s response was to insist that they change roles/places and she began to give Lori a backrub. And Lori wept for what she never had. A friend, Jenny, at times doubts that her heart is good. Her wounds, their messages all speak of her being damaged. It’s hard to see over the edge of our deep seated self contempt and thus, at times, that’s all we see. After sharing a bit of her self contempt, she shared about her two children, her love for them, their special times together and the joy being a mom brings her. I ask her where her ability to be such a good mom originates from if she’s so damaged. She was quiet and then she saw it! Something good abides within us. Despite the wounds and the ceaseless messages that play and replay in our soul… something good abides within us. For many of us it surfaces in our parenting and our heart for our children. Pause. Wait. Giving what we never received. What does the fact that we’re giving something we never got say about us? It’s true… I am an image-bearer, a new creation, a new person… with a good heart… there is another message, a truer voice… a higher opinion of who I am. There is life… deep healing…maybe all that God has whispered into my soul is true! Indeed we have something to give… in our parenting we see more clearly what’s true about us than we do from the haunting messages of the wounds from our parents. – Craig McConnell (Journal entry 05/07)
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Craig McConnell