Articles & Posts
Saying No
I’m finding I have to say “no” a lot these days. And I’m wondering, why is it so hard? I mean, I realize there’s only so much of me to go around. I understand the need for “margin” in my life. And I try to walk with God, ask him where he’s leading as I make decisions. I’ve got a pretty strong sense of what I’m supposed to be about, and that helps me know what I’m not supposed to be about. But even still, I find myself flinching, sometimes freezing inside when I have to come to a decision and the decision is “No.” No, I can’t help you. No, I can’t come. No, I don’t have time to hang out. No, I can’t take this call. Why is it so hard to say no? Is it because I grew up in an alcoholic home, learned to carry unhealthy burdens, felt obligated to take care of others? Is it because I want people to like me, and I’m afraid they’re going to think, “Eldredge is a jerk?” Is it because I fear I’ll miss the will of God, that he is in this or that request and I’m afraid I’ll blow right past something he is in? Its probably D) all of the above. But as I reflect a bit more on the internal workings of this, I think the common thread is that I want to be thought well of. And it makes me realize how crucial it is to get my validation from God. It’s hard to navigate all the needs and demands in a broken world. Jesus said, “The poor you will always have with you,” meaning, there is always going to be more need than you can meet. It’s hard to navigate my own motives. The enemy is a constant accuser. There is just no way out of this mess except to place the verdict on my life in God’s hands, and to draw from him the validation or correction on how I’m living. If I have a settled confidence in his opinion, then I’m free to live. If I lose sight of that, o man, it makes a mess of things. “God, how am I doing?” I need to take my bearings here. It’s the only true north.
John Eldredge
Hoops
I think God jumps out of the bushes that line the path we’re on startling us with His presence/words or with an invitation into something deeper. It could be a deeper repentance, or intimacy… another healing touch… it may be an invitation to laughter or joy… perhaps volitional strength… the point is He surprises us at times! I chuckle as I think of Him lurking about in the most common affairs of my day… at times He even seems playful as He leaps out of a passage of Scripture I’ve read a gazillion times before giving me some new never-seen insight into my life or His person/work. Last evening I’m in a conversation with Sam about his upcoming week one moment and in the next it’s no longer Sam talking about something he’s doing on Saturday, it’s the ever-present Ventriloquist speaking to me about something I’m doing in five months and how He (God) wants to bring more healing/closure to a deep wound of mine through that event (Sam no doubt wondering why I was weeping). Sometimes He hops out of a movie I’m watching or from the music I’m listening to in ways the lyricist never ever intended. He’s with us in the moment between the market and home. He’s speaking through the plumber’s story, the sunset, the smiling child, the homeless guy on the corner, your friend’s kindness as well as those troubling souls within your life’s orbit. A couple of days ago I’m yapping with a buddy and his innocuous observation about another man sends me into an evening of confession, repentance, breaking of agreements and crying out to God for transformation. God is most certainly with us! A quick story: I was attending a conference session wherein the President of the organization, a true and good man, formerly a seminary professor vulnerably shares that much of his Christian life has been lived from the perspective that He was to cram his head with as much knowledge and understanding as possible and through that God would sanctify/mature him. He reflected that it contributed little to his personal relationship with God. He continues telling the audience that he attended our Boot Camp and during one of our “Times of Silence with God” he, operating from a perspective of “Yes, God speaks… but not really… and certainly not to me”, finds a quiet place perched upon a rock to listen for anything God may have to say to him. He spent 10 minutes in token respectful silence and concludes… “I knew it!” God didn’t speak… no real surprise to him, He never has. So he, Clive, does what any good Hoosier would do… wanders down to the basketball court to shoot some hoops through the rest of the time with God. He continues the story saying that he made 10 shots in a row – which is unusual enough that his sharp mind goes analytical over what it is that he’s doing that would explain his success. “Is it the angle of my elbow?” “The snap of my wrist or the squaring up of my shoulders?”…”Maybe it’s my follow through!” Then he misses the next 10 shots as he’s dissecting his form. And … surprise… God shows up on the basketball court saying, “Clive, you’re trying so hard, you’re so analytical… I want your heart!” Stunned and still, God begins to speak deeply to the governing assumptions of his life inviting him into something very new… and wanted (Living from the heart intimately with God). Clive asks God, “Okay… do you want me to go back to my rock?” (To finish out the “Time Alone With God”) and God answers, “No, continue to shoot hoops – but from your heart!” See it? Surprise! Oh how he longs for a personal conversational relationship with us! And so, He is ever-present and always lurking about jumping at any and every opportunity to invite us into “more”. I wonder when, where and how He will jump out and into our lives today? – Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
Company of Men
These last two Mondays several of us (guys from the Wild at Heart Team) were up at Bart’s ranch with a couple of groups of men. There’s something about being in the company of men… we were skeet shooting , some of us enjoying a good cigar others passing, and all of us at some point putting into words the defining desires of our hearts and the hurdles we face: marriages, finances, parenting, career issues, questions about the goodness of God and spiritual warfare. Stories of God working were awesome. Each man a good man with a huge heart… our allies and friends. Wounded, glorious, broken, alive, true, generous… I am astonished by the company of men that surround us and share this mission with us. We couldn’t do this alone. The mythic nature of a man’s calling simply cannot be accomplished alone. And yet “alone” is what so many/most men feel. Oh God raise up companies of men! – Craig
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Craig McConnell
Its the Little Things
Years ago I was sitting in grad school, listening to a lecture by Larry Crabb talking about real and substantive change in our lives, and how our choices every day reflect what’s truly ruling us. He said he was blasting out the door that morning as he usually did, crashing into his day, blasting, how he made a conscious decision to stop, turn around, go back and get something he forgot. The point was, “I am trying to be aware of what is ruling me as I move through my day, and I’m making small decisions to act against it. That’s how I cooperate with God in my transformation.” I thought…huh. Really? That seems like pretty small potatoes. That’s where change takes place? I’m in grad school for this? Over the years I’ve found it to be profoundly true. We look for the huge, monumental changes – which are so hard to pull off, and pretty rare for most of us, and we miss a thousand small decisions that could change us. This summer, it was flip-flops. I’ve never liked flip-flops, thought they were wimpy. When I did wear sandals in the summer, I’d choose something like Tevas, or Chacos, “adventure sandals” that have straps and buckles, a design that make them ready for action. It reflects a posture, an approach to life. “Always be ready for action.” Flip-flops are like wearing bathrobes. Like going to the market in pajama pants. I’d never be caught dead in a bathrobe. I mean, it’s so friggin wimpy. OK. So part of my awareness and repentance of late has been to see how little I chill-out. Just chill-out. Let down. Relax. I’m always “on.” I despised flip-flops because they were so un-ready for anything. Anyhow, I bought a pair when we went to Hawaii in June, and I’ve worn them throughout the summer. Its a small act. Might even seem silly. But its a way of repenting. “Chill out, John. Give it a rest, for heaven’s sake. You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time.” So, it’s been the summer of the flip-flops. It goes down as a milestone.
John Eldredge
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
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