Articles & Posts
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
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
Jeri
We get letters… emails… notes, all kinds of things actually from people God has romanced, healed, delivered… rescued or resurrected to life. Given our propensity for spiritual amnesia we need stories of God. Jeri sent in a bit of her story that I personally found encouraging... and a needed reminder of God. Since last October nearly everything in my life has changed. I need to back up farther than that to reveal what a change it has been. My husband and I married in 2004 and separated in 2005. He moved out and across town, and I fell apart. My faith has always been there, but very "churchy". We recently moved to a new city, I had no friends, and a new career in a profession that rarely allows me to have anything beyond professional relationships with others. Through a variety of twists and turns I found myself in a church and involved in a "girls group" that was filled with other young professional women trying to figure out what this life is about. The very next week after I started this group we began reading Captivating. I was rocked. God carried me. Walked with me. Showed me so many things I thought I had all figured out. One of the girls in the 15-20 women group mentioned that there was a retreat coming up. I flippantly said sure, I will go if someone else will go. The 5 most amazing women "got-in". Honestly, before the trip we new each other, but would never have hung out beyond our monday night meetings. The day we left all of us arrived at the airport worn out, battled, and barely able to remember why we were going out of town. We had one girl with no wallet, sick kids at home with grandparents, forgotten makeup, wars with loved ones, a house that desperately needed to sell being shown dirty, and frazzled spirits. We were a wreck. I laugh now, but then tears were brimming. Needless to say, our rainbow weekend in CO changed our lives, and formed a bond between the five of us that will last a lifetime. While in Colorado I was desperately trying to come to grips with my pending divorce and Gods direction for me. He showed me some amazing things. First, He will always be with me, no matter the road I choose, I will find "His Will" in seeking him. Second, He gave me a name and a song. I laid in that bunk all night being romanced by a man that wowed me, and wouldn't abandon me ever. I got up Sunday morning and ran down to the "book store" after spending the weekend telling God, " I am not buying him that book, I have given him books before, he doesn't read them, I get hurt... forget it"; I bought the book. I had no idea how I was supposed to walk up to my EX and hand him a book, and tell him, "God told me to give this to you." I kept thinking how hoakie that sounds. In February he attended Boot Camp. The courts actually lost our divorce papers, and by the time he came home and we could sign them again and re-submit them, we both had a change of heart...:) Since then, we found a counselor who is grounded in your teachings and he is helping us get our questions answered the right way. It is so wonderful now. I can't even begin to explain the joy we have. My husband calls it his band of brothers... but has started a guys group with the men who are in relationship with my captivating girls. God is building a community all around us. We are so thankful. Thank you for what you do. God is using you in so many ways. I wish I could somehow show you what your ministry is doing in the lives of so many people around us. It is astounding. Again, thank you. – Jeri
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Craig McConnell
On Vacation
We are resting on the north shore of Kauai, drinking in beauty and quiet. Sun and rain and ocean. It’s a pastel world, soft clouds, soft sea, soft sky. It feels like a sort of de-tox. From the matrix we all take for granted. But don’t really notice its effect. Until we get away, and suddenly realize how overdue some rest is. Our family reads a ton when we are on vacation. Stasi, the boys, all of us. We read most of the day, lingering in the shade. Last year I made the mistake of bringing the wrong books. War books, mostly, military history, including An Army at Dawn, about the early days of the United States Army in north Africa during WWII. It was a mistake because the last thing I needed to be reading about was war; I live at war, most every day, and the point of vacation is to get away from the front and the almost constant emotional vigilance it requires. Anyhow, I dropped the reading a couple days in because it felt too much like my life. But didn’t have any other books to take up. This year I learned my lesson. Brought Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island, read it in a day and a half, and loved it. (Now Blaine’s reading it). Moved on to Shakespeare’s The Tempest, which brought me back to my old love of Shakespeare. And such a delightful and redemptive story it is. None of the darkness of Macbeth, none of the battle of Henry V. Interestingly (I only realized this today) they both take place on an island. And now that I think more about it, both stories turn on acts of mercy. Wow. God was just talking to me today about his mercy. And here I thought I just “chose” those books. Sweet. Okay, that's about all I have for now. Hope you are well. Make sure you get some R&R this summer.
John Eldredge
Stumbling Toward Ecstasy
Memorial Day 2008. Several of the Wild at Heart Staff annually run the Bolder- Boulder 10K. It’s a huge rite of Spring where 53,000 people and 26 Elvis’s run through the streets of Boulder Colorado. This was my inaugural. Julie J. a Boulder native and Sue an Ohio import led the blitz… gazelles in motion, fluid poetry. Following them was my Lovely…Lori; sporting the new Lululemon line; a natural beauty firing on all cylinders. Soon thereafter, the always fleet of foot, the unfatigue-able and graceful one: Polly. At a notably reduced pace from previous years were long time runners Julie & PJ… (one of my life long memories will be of Julie in her seventh month of pregnancy, the most pregnant of the 53,026 tapping into her well stored reserves to “sprint” the final 75 yards into University of Colorado’s football stadium… with PJ, the Team’s designated Sherpa carrying sundry sweat shirts, change of clothes, sunglasses, a beach chair, half a carnitas burrito and a block of ice at her side). Rounding out Team Wild at Heart were some dear friends and family and of course… me; just a guy out for a run. So… as I’m “running” I’m taking in all the regalia… the bands playing along the way (some of which were good and some not-so-good); one half-of-a-mile into the race there’s a wannabe comedian on the corner with a mega-phone cracking jokes that we’re “Almost there”; on the next corner were the unabashed belly dancers. Spider man passes me and I pass a guy in a cheap suit with an accordion. There’s a banana, a pine apple and a couple of M&M’s running. There are sombrero’s, short shorts, glitter, somebody’s favorite funky uncle… active duty soldiers. There was every shade of body paint, every age size and dimension, someone wearing a Nixon mask. The frat houses are hosing down runners; families cheering us on and offering free cookies. A woman twice my age passes me wearing a bridal dress…; the volunteers handing out Gatorade/water and doing traffic control…., a Hulk Hogan type, a few scoundrels, 16,000 hard-bodied fit runners, six gladiators, five Uncle Sam’s, four rainbow wigs, three frogs a hoping and a colonel Sanders in a pine tree. I pass a nut in a Steelers outfit (it wasn’t Morgan), a stoner on a unicycle playing a kazoo zips by… and everyone’s favorite, Big Bird,is running backwards… and did I say ever age size and dimension? So many different stories in motion. I couldn't’t help but wonder what is every one running from or to? I found myself laughing, crying, at times disturbed and mostly trying to remember the deep breathing techniques I coached Lori with at our first child’s birth 29 years ago. We all finished the 6.2 mile course, quickly downed the legal limit of Advil with our complimentary Power Bar, Potato chips and vitamin water and then hung out together watching others cross the finish line. We swapped stories and purely enjoyed one another and the ecstasy of finishing well. It was one of those moments. A moment you wish you had more of, a, as my French friends say, Jae ne sais quoi… that elusive quality… an unspeakable time of community, life, freedom, grace, joy… we are people who work together well and were now having fun with one another… together. I wasn’t expecting what happened next… the organizers squeezed a ceremony between the 10 K the masses run and the 10 k a few elite athletes run. In the middle of the stadium was a platform and podium… a politician/big-shot welcomes us and introduces a Medal of Honor recipient from the Vietnam War, Major-General Patrick Brady, to a standing ovation. With the crowd on its feet the Thunder-birds fly over, we sing the National Anthem and General Brady shares reflections about the supreme sacrifice that so many have made for our freedom… and I’m in tears… it’s all fresh again… my father’s death in combat, his loss, my loss… how I wish I knew him… how very much he, my mom and I missed out on...how I look forward to being with him… his life.. a Larger Story… courage… life… my God and Father… hope, heaven… and a governing desire: I want to live, heroically, to live well. I am frequently without words for all that’s swirling about within me… but in that moment I loved God, others… life… and want so much more… another all to small of a taste of the Eden we were designed for. - Craig
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Craig McConnell
Car Trouble
Monday night I’m driving down the road and suddenly my transmission just goes out. I pull over (thankfully, I was on a back road) and put it in park, waited a second, put it back in drive, and off we go. I think, “Whew. Far out. Don’t know what that was, but glad it’s over.” About half a mile down the road it does it again. The usual sequence of “car trouble” thoughts and emotions begins to run, like this: “What the…?! O no. Doggone it” (this is the G version). Long deep sigh. Try a simple solution. That doesn’t work. Deeper sigh. Battle sweeping resignation, that whole “Why does life have to be so hard?” thing. Finally, I land on, “What am I going to do now?” What made the trouble move from hassle to crisis was, I was four hours from home. What do I do now? I put it in reverse, and drove back up the road to the neighbors. Asked if they had any transmission fluid. I’m hoping it’s a fluid issue. The fluid does register low, so I pour some in and limp back to the ranch. Call a local mechanic (he’s an hour away). He can’t even look at it for a week. Now I’m faced with the dilemma of, “Do I stay here for a week, stranded, or do I try and drive it home and risk a total meltdown on the way, stranding me even further?” I begin to pray, to try and hear from God what I should do. But the drama of the crisis (“O no, I can’t be stuck here a week! And what if the repairs take even longer?! What am I going to do??!!”) is making it hard to hear from God. I find that’s almost always true – I find it really hard to hear from God when I am in high drama. I try and calm down. Take a walk. I still can’t hear. At this point, I know pushing into hearing from God isn’t going to be helpful, so I do a little work around the place, let an hour or so go by. Settle down. I ask again, “Lord – what should I do? Stay? Try and make it home? What are you saying?” Part of what’s making it hard to hear is the fact that getting stuck here for a week is actually beginning to sound good to me. I get to skip out on life for a week. But the more responsible part of me knows this isn’t the time to cave in, and so I am trying to hear whatever it is God wants to say, and not just “go” with my growing desire to bail on life for a week with a beautiful excuse. I hear God say, “You’ll make it home.” I said, “Really? Really? Lord, is this you?” “You’ll make it home.” So, I risked it. Drove gently, didn’t push the transmission hard up the mountain passes, stopped halfway to check the fluid, and made it home. And I think to myself, “What was life like before I knew about hearing from God? I think I just navigated by trying to make good choices.” This is a much better life. God knows, by the way, and it really helps to ask.
John Eldredge
New Kid in Town
There's a new kid in town... Alex is new to the Wild at Heart team working with us on events. Do you remember your first few days at a new job? What went through your mind, filled your heart? What were those first impressions of those you were now working with; those you'll be sitting next to at office Christmas party; having lunch with? Didn't you wonder who in the sea of new faces you'd connect with/enjoy... who would be the pain-in-the-butt; who you'd confide in or avoid at all costs? Who's the Christian, the clown, sour puss, self absorbed talker, sage? Those first impressions are so often right... and oh how they linger! I wonder what he's thinking as he leaves our Outpost these first days? As Alex sizes us up, so we have our first impressions as well. Here's mine of Alex: Good choice! Thank you Christ! Immediately likable; vulnerable... he's jumping all in; he's a strong man with a large heart... for God and others. He strikes me as thoughtful; he's present/engaged; a guy I'd enjoy driving across Kansas with. He's skilled, has lived a good bit of life; the word "integrity" seems to fit. Alex has a sense of humor that will find freer expression once the 90 day probationary period ends. He's solid, wears funky shoes... sports a scabrous goatee. His office is looped with pictures of the wild (the Maroon Bells, streams and radical looking cliffs are prominent). Close to his desk are the tender photos of his bride and little ones. There's a botta bag, a ceramic grizzly and a bottle of some kinda Polish elixir... a couple of arrows on the window sill. There's a stapler, a full trash can and a few premature stacks of papers (clearly an attempt to look busier than any newbie ever is). You can tell Alex is a good man... a man with a story we'll look forward to hearing. A man we're grateful to have with us as we write the story of Wild at Heart. I hope you get to meet Alex... he's the one with the capacious goatee. - Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
Teeth Cleaning
“What is shame? Shame is, quite simply, the feeling that there is something wrong with you. In more extreme cases, it is the feeling that there is something TERRIBLY, IRREVOCABLY, DEEPLY, FUNDAMENTALLY, wrong with you…Anyone who likes you or sees value in you just isn't looking closely enough to really see the "real" you.” – Bill Harris Self contempt, shame, condemnation have been companions of mine for much too long. They' always seem to be lurking about... hounding me in some of the most innocuous affairs of everyday living… like having my teeth cleaned at the Dentist office. (A journal entry I recently read from a couple of years ago) Okay, so it’s been 2 years… rounded off (actually, as the dental tech refers to my records she corrects me stating that it has actually been 2 years 4 months) since my last cleaning. She’s a great dental tech, always chipper, warm, very enjoyable and relational. So we quickly get caught up on our lives as I semi recline into the chair and get my bib fitted. The small talk masks the anxiety of The vulnerable moment approaching… that moment when I have to… open my mouth. You know… you open your mouth and then there’s the pregnant silence of waiting for her reaction/analysis of your mouth/character/life. It’s never just about your teeth… it’s about you as a person. There you lay, mouth open, exposed. She’ll know everything about you… somehow my oral history speaks volumes about me… procrastinator, irresponsible, sloth, pig-mouth… pig-man, a sure and certain toothless wonder in about 5 years… … and so it’s That Moment… it’s silent beyond the comfort level, way beyond the comfort level. She’s doing the preliminary scaling with plaque-clods flying out of my mouth. “Ummm… you’ve got a rain forest in here” I’m immediately picturing my mouth as a Petri bowl brimming with every know periodontal bacteria, mutans and flora and several unnamed/new opportunistic strains.* Despite her two hands, a mirror and scraper filling my mouth I break the silence with a muttered guttural ”thaaaat baaada ehhhh?” To which she adds the final nail, “yeah you’ve got barnacles hanging here.” I’m a failure as a man. He who is faithful in little will be given much… if I’m not faithful in flossing my freaking teeth do I really think God would entrust anything to me. CHESSECAKE!!! I’m so finished, my life’s a charade, poser, pig-mouth… pig-man. I see it. I’m fighting it. – Craig * Porphyromonas gingivalis and Actinobacillus actinomycetemcomitans, are two of the most aggressive offenders in periodontal disease, the leading cause of adult tooth loss.
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Craig McConnell
He's Back...
Well... to no ones surprise Morgan mounted his steed and sitting high in the saddle one couldn't help but think of Genghis Khan, The Lone Ranger, Teddy leading the Rough Riders... or, the Man From Snowy River... (For background see post Back In The Saddle) Our weekend north of Toronto in Muskoka with allies and men from as far away as Wisconsin was grand. Morgan shimmered; hit it out of the park; scored a knock out, hat-trick; he nailed it... God was with him! With vulnerability and insight Morgan offered out of his heart and life stirring up in the men a desire for more. It was a weekend of restoration and redemption for all of us. He's back. And it is good! Thank you for praying for us! -Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
Build a Bigger Fire
I’m back home after this amazing Tour. It was beautiful, and exhausting. A marathon, and God was in it. It was demanding, and hard, but mostly it was beautiful. And filled with greater meaning. Something really important is taking place. Something really big. Several years ago I was backpacking alone in the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness in Colorado. It’s something I try and do once a year, that is, head to the high country for some time alone with God. I was camped on a high shelf in a high valley. It was June, and there were still patches of snow. The days were warm but the nights were cold. One evening after dinner I was just sitting in camp as the sun set, not really wanting to go to bed but too cold to enjoy the evening. I was sitting sort of hunched over, my arms wrapped round my legs, when God said, “Build a fire.” I don’t normally build campfires when I’m alone; usually when it gets dark I’m in my bag in the tent, reading by headlamp. But I clearly heard him say, “Build a fire.” My first thought was where am I going to get dry wood? I stood up, and turned toward a line of tall spruce trees about thirty yards behind me. Though it was a long line of trees, my eyes went immediately to one tree in particular, to the base, and there, under a canopy of boughs, was a pile of firewood. Stacked. Under the tree. Not broken or gathered, but actually cut with a saw. How, in this remote valley, in this secluded spot, under one of a hundred trees, was it possible I would find an abundance of dry wood neatly cut and stacked??!! I slowly turned around, slowly doing a 360, to look behind me, around me, fully expecting Jesus himself to be standing there, smiling. You can understand, I was blown away. I gathered some wood, and made a fire ring. But I made it small, like an Indian fire for one person, and the wood God had provided did not fit. He spoke again. “Build a bigger fire.” I pushed out the stones, made a bigger ring, stacked the wood and let ‘er blaze. I knew it was a moment filled with greater meaning. A prophetic moment, if you will. Standing each night on stage during this tour, looking out at the bright eyes and earnest faces eager to connect with God, eager to live this life he is calling us to live, eager to share it with others, I realized. Here is the bigger fire. You are the bigger fire. It’s come true.
John Eldredge