Reentry

Reentry

Reentry hurts.image

Picture the Space Shuttle returning to earth. The friction of the life-giving atmosphere creates enough heat to kill. The wrong speed or attitude can bring disaster.

In my mind, a drawback of modern travel is the pace. It is a wonderful luxury to be able to wake up one morning in Brazil and fall asleep the following evening in Oklahoma. It all happens so fast it’s impossible to process, though. Upon returning, we find our head and heart still remain in Brazil while our duties and obligations are in front of us in the States. 

Spiritual journeys will not leave us unchanged. Even the decision to spend a few weeks overseas alters perspective. It impacts the trajectory of life. Walking foreign streets and witnessing the power of the Good News that can transcend all barriers and obstacles will stretch our faith to unexpected capacities.

My soul yearns for a gradual return from this experience. Two weeks overseas can’t be unpacked quickly. Like a good Brazilian meal, it all takes a bit of time to digest.

It  seems like just a few hours ago I was walking the streets of Jardinopolis, praying as an old Catholic woman’s eyes filled with tears as imagefor the first time she began to comprehend God’s love for her. She might spend the rest of her life unpacking this truth. Minutes later I was praying with the family of a young man who had been afflicted with a degenerative disease since birth. All eyes were swollen with tears as mom, aunt, and son all accepted Jesus as their savior, knowing we would all be dancing together in the next life.

Today, my eyes open to controversies about passwords and processes. Antivirus software and divestitures. Firewalls and F-bombs. I can feel it…reentry burns.

Like the atmosphere welcoming back the Shuttle, there is nothing inherently wrong with the environment to which I return. It’s life-giving, meaningful, and necessary. Transitioning so quickly from there to here causes the unease. My soul is split in two. I appear fully here but I’m frequently still there.

Reentry is all about speed and attitude.

So I pray. I silently pray for those who so frequently come to mind. The man we visited who was home with his two children. He chose Jesus and learned about the source of hope. The pastor working so hard to shepherd his people in a town battling darkness. The little boy with the feeding tube and his loving mom who wanted us to tell his story. The man who turned down living water and instead poured himself a glass of wine at 9 AM. Our interpreters. Our missionaries. All those who sent life-sustaining messages of hope, encouragement, and prayer from back home.

As I pray, the disparate worlds begin to align. The mission field isn’t there. It isn’t here either. It’s everywhere. The heat is a reminder that things are not as they should be here or there. The life-giving message of grace and hope is desperately needed by every person. Even here, in the middle of my normal life.

Mission is something we do, not someplace we go. Because of this, I press into the pain rather than seeking relief. I allow that yearning for where I’ve been draw me closer to our Creator who sent me. I allow the longing to draw me deeper into the trust in Him…the One who has never let me down.

I don’t have a choice about the speed. Attitude is a choice. Through prayer, trust, and perspective, the heat from reentry fuels the continuing mission.image

Processing Mission Work

Mission trips are one of the front lines of spiritual warfare. Nothing tests (and strengthens) faith more than getting to the mission field. This year’s Brazil trip has been amazing, but tonight I’m simply processing a few things that have happened. Stories will come later, after sleep and after these events settle in my mind.

One question Christians often face is known as “the question of suffering.” One reason it’s tough is because it must be answered in two different ways, depending on the situation. If asked philosophically, a rational answer can be given. If asked emotionally, it’s best to simply practice a ministry of presence. It’s best to listen, empathize, and pray.

Pastors at play between amazing visits
 

Yesterday as we were walking the streets of Jardinopolis sharing the Good News of Christ as well as the good news of the chapel we are building, we met a sweet woman talking to a couple of workers. Angie made an instant connection with her. The woman apologized because she wouldn’t be able to attend our celebration…her son couldn’t come and she had no one to watch him if she went. She invited us into her house to see and pray for her sick son.

The details of the story are for another time, but her son was bedridden and his disease was chronic. He was 25 and might have had ALS, but it could have been something else. He smiled and laughed as we talked and prayed with him. We prayed with his mother, too. 

We went back and visited him again today. He was very happy to see us again and enjoyed the sunglasses and toy truck we gave him.

Only two visits after that, we met another woman with a sick child. She also invited us in. Her son had turned 6 on June 3. Two and a half years ago, an iron beam had fallen on his head. The doctors told her he wouldn’t live more than two days. Mom told us that his continued life was proof of God’s existence and love. That boy was her miracle. She brought us in to meet him so that we could tell everyone we meet that her son is proof of God’s love and presence with us on earth.

These two events are what I’m processing. In my home town, both of these boys would have received much different medical care than what the public health care of Brazil can offer. What we would call their “quality of life” would likely be much higher. Neither would have a normal life, though. 

Why are these boys like this and why did God lead us here? We provided some encouragement and a smile for the moms and sons, but those can be so slippery…almost impossible to hold onto in the dark and lonely times when life hangs in the balance.

I can’t help but think about the question of suffering. Perhaps instead a philosophical answer, we should consider these events a Christian case study. These are notes from the field manual.

The answer: praise Him. As simple and unsatisfying as it sounds, that’s the Christian response to suffering. Praise. I preached on it Sunday night from Acts 16. We saw it with both of these moms. As we walked away from the second house, I wanted to cry out to God in praise. 

in every circumstance, prayers of praise

Somehow, in spite of the feeding tube and metal crib, God was glorified in that boy and his mother. God was glorified in that boy who couldn’t quite hold his new truck in his knotted up hand. Each of those lives have dignity and value. We are most profoundly reminded of that not when an Olympic athlete breaks a world record, but when we see the beauty, dignity, and worthof a young man misshapen by this broken world. We see it in the love of a mother’s eyes as she proudly shares her miracle boy with strangers from another country. 

The true Christian answer to suffering is presence. God is with us through the pain, sustaining us and assuring us of His love…unconditional and relentless in spite of the fallen state of this present world. It’s the whisper that YOU matter, that there is something more than the life we cling to so desperately now. He reminds us of the glory that awaits us in the next life, where all of His beloved children will be healed and whole. There may be tears today (and there were many), but one day there will be no more weeping for those in the kingdom. 

Yes, this life is precious. This is why we cling to it so tightly. This is why we grieve when any human life is lost, regardless of age, race, religion, or classification. And this is why we (Christians) desire for ALL to know Christ, to trust in Him and turn to Him. Eternity is much more important than anything this world (or the forces of evil) can throw at us.
God is good. All the time. Today He showed us, once again, how true this is.

One more thing before I go…if your view of Christianity doesn’t have room for “God is good all the time” or “God’s desire is for ALL to be with Him for eternity,” then you have a faulty understanding of Christianity and God. Please don’t let this tragic condition persist. I’m not even asking you to believe what I believe, I just want you to understand what I believe before disagreeing with me. I love to answer questions, and I love to talk about God.

Redemption

Redemption

The past can be a weight…the magnitude of the tragedy overwhelming and all-consuming. Every time your eyes close, you see their faces. Sons taken too soon. The anger rises anew. Lost jobs are insignificant compared to the lost loved ones. Lost freedom. But you go on.

 

I met him on a trip. He was hired to do construction. We were building a church. We were also building THE church.

North and South Americans stacked concrete blocks, threw cement, painted walls, and tiled a roof. Shoulder to shoulder, we joyfully toiled from sunrise to sunset until everyone was exhausted. Christians and non-Christians alike, simply working with and loving each other.

Each day on the long walk home, he would pick up scrap wood and construction debris. Someday…eventually…his house would have real walls. A roof. Someday.

But God… God is a rescuer. He is a redeemer.

“…the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners” Isaiah 61:1

Late in the week a decision was made. A decision for Christ. And life became new. Restored. Redeemed. The chains shackling him to the pain of the past were broken.

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Embraced by both the savior and His church, something special was found. Forgiveness. Community. Reconciliation. Hope. Life.

img_7557His house now has a roof. And walls. His precious family is safer than they have been in years. Because of a church? Because of THE church? Because of the redeemer! Jesus reached out through the obedient workers. The light of Jesus was shining through them all week. It drew him. It gave him a new hope and a new community. And the trajectory of six precious lives changed for eternity.

 

 


This post originally appeared in October, 2013. This is one of my most well-known photographs and one of my most treasured stories. The original events took place in Niteroi, just outside of Porto Alegre, Brazil. It was a privilege to be a witness to these events and an honor to capture a few moments with my camera and words. We are leaving for another mission trip to Brazil soon. As I reflect on all God has done and anticipate what He has in store, I decided to share this particular story again. 

The Cards We Were Dealt

The Cards We Were Dealt

Over on my Facebook page I did a little informal polling. I put up a dozen photos and asked everyone to vote with their “likes.” It was easy and organic. After a bit, I narrowed it down to the top five and opened voting again. Now, based on those votes, greeting cards are being made from the top two photos. The proceeds from the sale of these cards will support our mission trip to Brazil (and you better believe I’ll shoot a few more pictures while I’m there). Since the cards are blank inside, I thought I’d tell the story behind the two photos  here.

The original dozen photos were captured in a diverse set of locations and circumstance. A couple were from the little lake down the street from my house. There was downtown graffiti, skylines, and rivers. Some of the pictures were taken with my expensive camera and nice lens, others with a phone. What I found interesting in the final results is that the winners were both taken standing about 10 feet (and 3 months) apart and were both sunsets.

 

The first picture was taken in late September, 2015 along the bank of the Arkansas River in my home town of Sand Springs. This is the spot I labeled “The Spot Where David Likes to Watch the Sun Set” on FourSquare. In the fall, Oklahoma is blessed with incredible works of art that stretch across the sky. When the weather is right, these displays can last for an hour. The sky changes dramatically over that time. I can take a picture every 10 minutes and each would be completely different and utterly breathtaking. The river was high and flowing fast, which is why you see the rough water reflecting the orange glow of the setting sun. The sky holds every color from black to white, with a generous helping of orange and blue. This shot has an unusual mix of colors and it’s striking.

The second picture is one of my favorites. Christmas day, 2015, I wandered down to that same spot. No matter how incredible family and festivities are, it’s always nice to steal away for a quiet moment of Christmas reflection. Getting there a little later than I meant to, I was afraid I had missed the show. I scrambled down the bank, right to the edge of the river. The water was lower and much more still than in September, so it reflects the entire sky instead of just the blazing sun. The winter reeds along the bank appear to be leaning toward the fading light, straining for every last glimmer. I love the way this photo moves…the clouds, the reeds, and even the water seem to be pulling us all toward the final light, as if we can each reach out and grasp that last glimmer, too…knowing it can sustain us through the dark night as we anticipate the breaking of the morning sun. Although cropped down to fit the card, this photo is actually a panorama, stitched together from multiple shots. The hill in the distance and the buoy in the water is the same between the two photos, but look much more distant in this one.

Thanks again for voting and for ordering. If you’d like to get a pack of these cards, contact me on Facebook or Twitter. They’re $20 (plus S/H) for a pack of 10 and come with their own envelopes.

#TeamTori

#TeamTori

Sweet baby Tori (from Tori’s Triumph – Team Tori) is healed and whole this morning. IMG_5484In light of this news, I have to write. That’s how I process stuff. That’s what I do.

There has always been something special about Tori. Even before her terminal diagnosis, her smile captivated everyone. It was a joy to see her on Instagram every day. And those eyes… they were a glimpse at the joy we all long for deep in our souls.

When she was diagnosed and throughout her illness, her incredible parents demonstrated to the world how to walk through the most difficult of times with faith and enduring joy. In the middle of the hardest times they have never stopped trusting Jesus. They have shown all of us that sometimes the answer to prayer is the presence of Jesus with us and the fellowship we have with other believers. We will never be completely healed and whole in this life, but we can look forward to the day when every tear will be dried and every pain will be a faded memory. While we wait for that day, we run our race with endurance, confident in what lies ahead. Confident in the promises He has made and the love He has for us. Even when this world doesn’t make sense. Especially when this world doesn’t make sense.

I’ve carried a picture of Tori with me for longer than I can remember. She has been with us as we worshiped in Aracaju, Brazil. She was the only guest that tagged along as Joey and I did our father/son trip to the UK. I have taken her picture with famous authors, podcast hosts, and even a wax figure of Sherlock Holmes. Of all the pictures, the oneIMG_5822 I took at the Prime Meridian in Greenwich, England is my favorite. The time we have here on earth is precious. Yes, we look forward to the eternity to come, but right here and right now matters, too. This time is significant, and it will not last forever. Treasure every moment. And please, please, please…don’t let another moment pass without accepting the truth about the God who created you and sent His son into our world to demonstrate how much He loves you. None of us know how many days we have. Don’t waste a single one by running from Him.


Update: Lesa recently released a book about their journey (Even So, Joy). Please consider buying it, reading it, and allowing it to transform your life and your faith. You can find it by clicking here.

Perfect Moments

Perfect Moments

#mytulsasky
An unexpected sunrise.

Perfect Moments

 

Could it be… those cherished perfect moments you stumble upon are determined by perspective instead of circumstance? It isn’t what happens that matters, it’s how you view what happens to you. For some these moments are fleeting and elusive. For others…they are everywhere, all the time. They are found in the in-betweens…between the cracks obligations and expectations, pressure and responsibility. When life is interrupted and off-schedule, glory suddenly shines through.

You pause unexpectedly to catch up with a friend. You get lost watching a sunrise slowly unfold. Suddenly…there it is.

Tension releases as you slowly exhale. What really matters in life? The people we know, how we love, and how we express it. Our relationship with the Creator.

Those treasured moments of stillness and peace that speak more loudly than the cacophony of the races we run. Honestly, stillness scares us. But stillness fuels us. Don’t hide from it.wp-1453825492772.jpg

Pause. Breathe. Connect.

Yes, I understand some days can be pretty rough. I get laser-focused on the fire in front of me and chaos around me and forget about the peace within me that comes from the Creator above. Quiet time? Who has time for it these days? There are computers to reboot, data to move, homework to write, and dishes to wash!

And then suddenly something happens that kills the noise. An unexpected phone call. Road construction that forces an alternate commute. A sunset so gorgeous you have to pull over. Interruption followed by peace. A new perspective gained through the unexpected. It is in these moments life is found. These moments bring clarity. These are the moments we share with our friends around a bonfire. Perfect moments aren’t crafted, they are encountered. They are experienced. They are treasured.

Go treasure hunting today.

 

Obrigada, Pastor

Obrigada, Pastor

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God’s handiwork over the beach of Aracaju, Brazil early one morning.

She pushed right past my outstretched hand, ignoring my North American custom expressing openness at a distance. She placed her hand on my shoulder, her wise old eyes looking through mine into the hidden recesses of my soul. Her seasoned voice didn’t falter as she firmly said “obrigada, pastor.” After a quick embrace and kiss on the cheek, she slipped off into the crowd. Those words lingered briefly in my mind before settling into my soul.

“Who am I?” This question shapes our journey. Maybe that is our journey. Like a handshake, I’ve attempted to be open to it while also keeping a safe distance. Our circumstance and choices shape who we are. Even more, at our core we each have a unique design driving our direction. In our desire to fit in, it’s easy to hide from this design. It’s tempting to step into the crowd instead of into our destiny. .

This journey I’ve been on has been unique, to say the least. Not many computer security guys with existential tendencies fall headlong into a relationship with Christ at 32 after a lifetime of adamant atheism. When the relationship first took off I stepped fearlessly into it, letting God lead me anywhere He would like. My answer became, “Yes, God” before hearing the question.

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Bringing the thunder. Aracaju, Brazil. 2015

This led to community-building, worship-leading, and mission trips. A few of these yesses also led to heartbreak and loss. They were worth it. The earth shook. We saw a glimpse of the Kingdom right here on earth. God was there through it all, sustaining me.

And now…God’s turning a new page. In this chapter, I’ve been reluctant to say yes. The calling doesn’t fit my qualifications.

Our first night in Aracaju, my pastor pulled me aside and asked, “would you rather preach the first service or last while we’re here?”

This hit me out of the blue. What? Me? But… don’t they usually get qualified people to do that?  

That one question forced an internal confrontation I had been avoiding.

One of my “Yes, God” moments led me to seminary. I don’t know what He has planned, but I’ve trusted Him. Last January, the church licensed me. I can officially perform weddings now. So does that make me a…pastor? I wrestled with this for months. There is a weird mixture of high standards and heavy baggage associated with the title “pastor.”

I took the first service. I knew it would be smaller. Less pressure.

As I frantically prepared a sermon for an international congregation , I couldn’t help but reflect. From our hotel in Aracaju, my mind drifted back to Gravatai.

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Prayers before preaching. Gravatai, Brazil 2013.

Two years earlier I had delivered my first sermon. I preached a lesson from Gideon from the pulpit of a chapel I helped build in 2011. This was before seminary. It was before chaplaincy. I taught about the purpose God had for Gideon. I explained that God built a potential into Gideon, which God would use. I told everyone that God had a plan, even if Gideon himself thought too little of himself to see it. How could I have forgotten? In His own way, God was providing a glimpse…foreshadowing things to come.

“Be the church.” That’s what our shirts said. That was the message of my sermon. To “be the church” is much more than showing kindness to others and helping the poor, widows, and orphans. Matthew 16 tells us that the gates of Hell will not prevail against the church. Gates are defensive, not offensive. Evil is on the run. Jesus didn’t intend for us to sit within the safety of our walls in the comfort of our pews. He intended for us to engage in warfare, taking on evil wherever we find it. Our weapons are not swords or guns, though. We are to fight using grace, compassion, self-sacrifice, and love. These weapons tear down gates, break chains, and set people free.

It went well. The band played “How He Loves” in English and Portuguese. It wrecked me. My own gates fell. My inner turmoil over my identity was far from my mind. And then the service was over. Everyone celebrated, hugged, and greeted each other.

I turned. That was when she spoke those words. “Obrigada, Pastor.” Thank you. Pastor.

God’s design for us is to stand out, not to fit in. Through us, He brings His kingdom to earth. The message to Gideon was “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior” (Judges 6:12). He told Jeremiah “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you…” (Jer 1:5) Our God-given purpose sits in the sweet spot that happens to be right outside our comfort zone.

Sometimes God calls us to step into an uncomfortable truth…one we didn’t expect. Maybe it’s even one we’ve avoided.

God seems to speak to me most clearly when I’m in Brazil. This year He affirmed a piece of my identity I had been denying, and He used a sweet old lady speaking in a foreign tongue to do it.

The truth is…I am a pastor.

Embracing Wonder – 2016

I probably think about words more than a healthy person should (see: grace). Words matter to me. The end-of-year tradition of picking a word for next year is serious business! It’s a bizarre method of New Year Resolutions for readers, writers, dreamers, goal-setters, and visionaries: pick one word which will steer and shape the journey our year takes. The stakes are obviously quite high.img_7841.jpeg

As I journeyed through the dark winter months of 2015, my focus continually returned to advent. As I pondered the “already/not-yet” tension of the season, I became aware of the absence of a feeling that once filled my perspective. I remembered it fondly and once again realized how bringing it is. It is amazing how profound, life-shaping feelings can just fade away. The familiar but faded-feeling was a sense of wonder.

When I found Christ at 32, my life became filled with wonder. The message of the Gospel was captivating. My thoughts were consumed with the possibilities… somehow this infant in a manger was the Son of God and savior of the world. My goodness…God had a son…just like me. Because of His deep love for us, He sent His son to the world to be raised by others, build close relationships, live out a ministry, stand falsely accused of blasphemy and treason, and then be unjustly and brutally murdered. As tragic as it appears, there was a beautiful purpose behind it all. God didn’t send an innocent baby into the world to be unjustly sacrificed for us…the Creator and Sustainer of all that is, was, and will ever be chose to enter creation to once-and-for-all make things right.

But the story didn’t end with the cross. He rose again, conquering death while proving he truly was who He claimed to be. He brought salvation for  mankind. Chewing on these concepts left me wonderstruck. Each individual piece of the story bounced around inside my head, opening my mind to possibilities and implications. Yes, I had a million why questions, and I explored them. More deep than the questions was the profound wonder continuing to draw me deeper.

Wonder overflowed into the rest of my life. I stared into the depths of the night sky with new awe and appreciation. The people I met–both in the States and abroad–I saw with new eyes. 20150722135153_img_7472.jpgThey were brothers and sisters joining me on a journey, each with inherent dignity and value. Even the words I wrote and lessons I taught were fountains of awe and wonder, not because of my own insights and efforts, but instead with the ultimate source of it all. God.

I can’t tell you what changed over the years. Life goes on. It happens to all of us. We grow accustomed to the light we live in. Our eyes adjust. It becomes normal, routine, and monotonous.

I can give a thousand reasons. I’m so busy. In addition to my day job, I’ve been attending graduate school, doing public speaking, teaching, photographing, and trying to get a book written. That’s all in addition to being a father, husband, and friend. I’ve always been busy, though. It’s a lousy excuse.

The word and goal for 2016 is to appreciate and fall back into the wonder of it all…to be aware of the awe that surrounds us. The seasons come and go, as do our plans and goals. A perspective of child-like wonder at the universe we’re in, the people around us, and the God above us leads to an attitude of thankfulness and hope. It brings optimism and appreciation. It fuels our gratitude and unity with others.

I rediscover the wonder in life by interrupting my day. It happens when I watch our bird feeders 20151230121410_img_0918-01.jpegor when I capture a sunset. I remember it when I read the Word without expectation. It happens when I notice.

How do you rediscover wonder?

Let’s do this together.