To The Limit

The Olympics are in full swing and I am loving it. The Winter games only roll around once every four years so I get a little excited when it comes time to watch events like bobsledding, the skeleton, snowboard cross, and...yes...even curling.

Last night was the much anticipated women's downhill where USA skier Lindsey Vonn took home the gold. What a phenomenal skier! Even with a couple of mistakes and rough patches, she hits the turns with such amazing speed that she still posted the best time and stood atop the podium to receive the gold medal.

One of her best friends is the German skier, Maria Riesch, who was the final skier to run that could beat Lindsey's time. Unfortunately, the two skiers before Maria took brutal falls that (praise God) they were able to walk away from. Since Maria is the only person to have beaten Vonn in the World Cup there was much anticipation going into her run.

However...something interesting happened. Riesch skied very conservatively. She stood up tall on her skies rather than crouching low for maximum speed through the turns. She seemed hesitant. She seemed reserved. It seemed like she wanted nothing to do with contesting Vonn's speed.

I thought long and hard about the two runs. Riesch's run was much safer than Vonn's...but Vonn got the prize. Vonn took her run to the limit, testing the edge as well as her already injured right shin. She ran the race with courage, with determination, and without fear.

Sometimes the race that we run (our Christian journey) is much like taking a run at the downhill. It is scary. It is frightening. And sometimes, we have seen too many people before us take some nasty spills. I just hope that along the way...I find the courage to run the race on the edge and without fear. To run for the prize that has been laid up for me.

As time passes on the hill

July 24th. That was the last time I posted on my blog. My how time flies by.

Speaking of time...I just turned 29 years old. Now...first of all...I know that 29 is not old. However, I did discover that I am aging. I think it finally hit me. I have always acted...well...more immature than my age suggested I should but have never noticed any problems with that. That is...until last week.

My family and I took a vacation to go camping at the Warren Dunes in Michigan (where I spent many vacations growing up). It was a beautiful week. One in which we hiked, went to the beach, etc. One day we even hiked over 6 miles up and down hills. Melissa had a backpackers pack on with all the beach stuff and I have Maggie on my back. Yet, we still made the trek without any major problems. After that...I still felt young and fresh.

The problem came when I attempted to go down one of the sand dunes. You see, when I was little we used to run down the hill as fast as we could. Many times the only way to stop was to fall down and roll through the sand at the bottom. As I started down the hill I noticed very quickly that my knees really did not want to do it. At least not like I used to.

It was this moment that I noticed that I had grown up. I was no longer the young kid that would spend all his time running up and down that hill. I am 29 years old. I am married. I have a child. I have a full-time job. I have responsibilities and stresses. Things just aren't like they used to be. And...I think a part of me died. I was bummed that I would never be that person again. The care-free child that could run up and down any hill whenever he wanted without a concern in the world.

I grew up with this as the greatest place in the world. It was my favorite place to go. And...my favorite thing to do there was to run down this hill. Now...I stood just a short distance from the top...hit with the realization that I will probably never run like that down this hill again. Standing there...looking down the hill I had spent so much time on...a part of me died that day.

That all happened on day one. No one else was around. I had just taken off to climb the hill that evening because I missed it so much and I left a part of me there. But a funny thing happened over the rest of the week.

That week I began to notice something. I was sharing with my wife and child the place that I had loved for so many years. I had a chance to tell all the stories of all that had happened over the years with my family. My family! Suddenly I realize that I have grown up and I was a new man.

You see...I always wanted to be just like my dad. I made life decisions and moves to be like him. Over this week...as I looked at my family I realized that while we are still very different...we have the greatest thing in common. We have families. I have a little girl to share things like the Warren Dunes with. I have a daughter I can show how to pick a good walking stick for hiking. I have a sweet angel of a child who will learn from me like I learned from my dad.

So...this week a lot of me died. Sure...I still act more immature and childish than my age would suggest...but that won't change. But...with death comes life. And I guess...after all of this...I see a little more clearly what it means to die to myself.

I recall the words from the Gospel of Luke that state, "If anyone wants to become my follower, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.” (Luke 9:23-24)

If we want to become something more (in my story...a father, a husband, a man) we have to, in a way, die to ourselves. We have to do away with our "childish ways" as Paul puts it and life into something else.

It is all about being transformed. Transformed into something more...something better...something new. As we seek to follow Christ...it is the same story. We want to be like Him and we strive to live as He lived. However...if we truly want this to happen...we have to be willing to do away with some of those 'old' things.

So...I will never sprint down that hill again. But...that is okay. Because I get to share it with my little girl...and that is far greater than anything else.

In the same way...I will never go out and do the things I did in College. But...that is okay. Because I get to share Jesus Christ with my little girl...and that is far greater than anything else.

Settled

Well...it has been a while since I posted last. And...it will be a little longer yet. However, we are settled in (for the most part) and have been really busy at Mt Etna. We are in a great church with amazing people. God has truly blessed us with the gift of a great community of believers who hope to see God work in amazing ways. So, until things slow down (which...in all honesty...I hope it takes a while...because things are great) blessings to you all.

Second Chance

My family and I were blessed by our Sunday School class as they sent us off with a picnic. We will be leaving in a short two weeks and they wanted to have a get-together...to thank us I guess. But...the reality is...we should thank them.

We were welcomed into the class from day one. They were friendly and receptive of us both...and when Maggie was born we were REALLY accepted. There were bumps and bruises along the way at times...but those are good.

Toward the end of the picnic someone thanked me for giving them a second chance. You see...we had certainly not gotten off to a good start with one another. He saw me as sitting in my ivory tower...while I...in all honesty...saw him the same way. I believe there is truth to perceptions. Whether I or he wanted to admit it...we probably in some sense came across that way somehow. The shocking thing to me was when I received a message via email from this person who stated...bluntly...that he did not care for me.

I was shocked. How could someone say something like this? Some Christian he was, I thought. However, as time progressed...I began to respect what he did. You see...too often we hold back from revealing what we truly feel. We reserve our emotions and hesitate to be honest with one another. Accountability is an important part of Christianity...and sometimes...that means being honest. Why is it that this is so hard for most people? The answer: because it is not "nice". We are taught to be nice...not honest. We are taught that if we can't say something nice don't say anything at all...not honesty.

Is our relationship perfect now? I don't know. I could probably be better but distance and schedules (and gas prices) made it difficult to attend the men's lunches and really invest in building a relationship. I wish I had more time over the past few months...and more money for gas. Then I would have been able to make more of an effort. Because I know now that this person is a good man. But what I really learned is that I would probably have never known that about him if he never told me that he did not care for me because I am not sure I would have had the honesty to do the same. So...the reality is that we both probably needed a second chance...and I think that is what we got from one another. And...it all started with honesty.

Stole-n

Next week I will be honored to kneel before God and be commissioned in the United Methodist Church (North Indiana Conference) by our bishop. I am humbled by the opportunity, by the realization of where God has taken us, and by the fear-filled, eager anticipation of what lies ahead.

This will also be the first time I will wear my clergy robe (other than seeing how good I look in our mirror). Those of us being commissioned were told that we need to have our robes but a stole will not be necessary. I wondered at this statement as I was unaware that one would even wear a stole for such an occasion.

I attended the ordination ceremony a couple of years ago for my friend/mentor. When he was ordained, he received a stole. He received a stole for a reason. A stole is a symbol of one's ordination...therefore...if one is not ordained they should not wear one.

Is it that one is not worthy of wearing a stole until they are ordained? Maybe. Once commissioned, you are placed on "probationary membership". To be put crudely, this means that the UMC is watching you to make sure you are fit and prepared for ordained elder status. Therefore, I ask the question again. Is one worthy of wearing a stole before they are ordained?

According to the United Methodist Church...the answer is no. "The stole is a sign of ordination, and it is placed on the shoulders of elders and deacons at ordination. The stole should be worn only by the ordained clergy." (http://www.gbod.org/worship/default_body.asp?act=reader&item_id=1768 Copyright © 2000-2003 The General Board of Discipleship.)

Yet...many people who are not ordained continue to wear a stole even though the are not "worthy". Maybe "worthy" is a strong term...then again...maybe not. There is something to be said for what God has done in the lives of those who have been ordained. And...if that is the case...I find it is important to pay my respects toward those individuals by not adorning myself with the symbol that has been placed on them. If I do...doesn't it devalue what the stole means? Or have we already devalued what the stole stands for?

Good...Grief...Good Grief

Children grow. It is a plain and simple truth of life. A little under 8 months ago, as you know, Melissa and I were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. Over the 8 months, we have seen her grow and advance through the stages of development. Now she is crawling...or should I say...trying to skip crawling?

Maggie has always been strong. She has been able to support her own weight on her feet for...well, as long as I remember. since she has been able to crawl she has been pulling herself to her feet. This is awfully early as far as I am concerned.

This is all very good. We enjoy the fact that she is advanced in pretty much all areas of her development. I am not saying she is a genius...well...yes I am. I am a proud father...I can do that. I love the fact that she is growing up. I love the fact that she is developing and learning new things. It is exciting. (By the way...she just sat up on her own for the first time tonight. How exciting!)

But...you know...when I see her do these things like crawl, pull herself up, talk, etc. I begin to feel something else. It is a little depressing. I remember the first time I saw her crawl across the floor without stopping. I felt as though I lost something...something special...something I will never get back. And...I did. I lost my little girl. The little girl who could only get to her knees and rock. But...when she did that...I lost the little girl that couldn't even get onto her knees. It goes all the way back to the first time I held her in my arms. Through the tears in my eyes I saw Magdalene Rae Johnson. My daughter. My child. The center of my world...in my arms. In a way...as she grows up, I continually lose that. It is a sense of grief.

So, things are good. She is developing better than average. It is exciting...it is joyful...it is good. But it is also sad. It is depressing to see your little girl grow and realize that she will never be that little girl who stared up at me that first day, laying her eyes on her daddy for the first time. But, it is a grief that we seek because we want her to grow and learn and develop.

In the end...maybe Charlie Brown had it right. Maybe it is not good. Maybe it is not grief. Maybe in the midst of a cartoon that has entertained for generations is found the term that best describes the feelings of a fairly new father who loves his daughter more than the world will ever know and struggles to find the words to express these emotions. "Good grief!"

This is the Great Life that God has Given Us.

As I read my wife's post about Maggie and her first Easter (which you can read at http://miamidolfans.blogspot.com/) I noticed something that made me really think. Toward the conclusion of her post, Melissa said that, "this is the great life that God has given us."

As I read this I could not help but think about Easter. Easter is the celebration of the resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It is through this great miracle that we were given the gift of eternal life. Life...a gift from God. But, it is important to note that she said it was a "great" life. This is the point in which I realized that we have been residing in Easter for the past six months.

Often times in referring to those who are grieving, we speak of what day they are experiencing. They could be experiencing the pain and loss of Good Friday, the wilderness that is Saturday, or they could be experiencing the hope that is found on Easter Sunday. As we celebrate Lent and Easter, we walk a journey in this way. This year I feel as though we, meaning Melissa and I, simply skipped Good Friday and Saturday and proceeded right to Easter. Allow me to explain.

It all started on September 5th, 2007. It was this evening that Melissa informed me that she was having contractions that were five minutes apart. For those of you who do not know...this means that you are close to the point of going to the hospital. We left that evening to go to Central Baptist and would return a couple of days later, never to return to life as we knew it before.

We came home with the most beautiful, happy, precious little girl in the world. The level of pride that we have in Magdalene and all that she has done since then is tremendous. I cannot begin to tell you how much she has taught us about God...and how much we love her. She is the single greatest thing that has ever happened to us. She has done nothing but strengthen our marriage and our family. God definately blessed us with this child and through her...we have experienced Easter.

On February 24th, I had my commissioning interviews with the Board of Ordained Ministry. It was a nerve-racking experience that created much stress and doubt in my mind. I was worried as the North Indiana Conference has had more pastors than they have had appointments. When I returned home that evening, I recieved a call informing me that I had indeed been approved for commissioning. This means that Melissa can stay at home while I serve as a pastor of a local church because an appointment is guaranteed for those who are commissioned. God blessed us in this news and through this...we have experienced Easter.

Approximately one month later, I recieved a phone call from my DS. I was told it was extremely early to find out...but nonetheless...I was informed that the Bishop had appointed me to a local church as the lead pastor. Needless to say, we were thrilled. Finally, we could see what we have been striving toward for quite some time now. God has blessed us with an appointment and through this...we have experienced Easter.

All of these things made it difficult to really place myself into a "Lenten" state of mind. The reality is that we have been in Easter for quite some time now. And...I am not entirely sure that I will ever be able to really experience Lent like I used to. Each day I have the wonderful opportunity to hug and kiss Magdalene. And each time that she looks at me and smiles from ear to ear when I come home...or for that matter...simply enter the room, I experience Easter all over again. In that I see hope...I see love...I see Christ.

But...I guess I have to remember...we live on this side of the resurrection. We are celebrating the Easter joy continuously. Do we have to really experience Lent in a particular way? I don't think so. Because, in the midst of Lent we understand what Christ did for us. We observe the dark day of Good Friday and the wilderness of Saturday. However, unlike those who stood near the cross like Mary Magdalene...we know what is to come. There is hope...there is joy...there a peace in knowing that we are loved.

So, I guess, each time God blesses us with something like an appointment or the beautiful smile of a little girl...we can always rest in knowing that, "this is the great life that God has given us."