good

Stop and listen to your heartbeat. Stop and think about all that is going on right now in your body. It’s amazing. You’re amazing. Do you ever stop and just think that? How is it that you even ‘work’?

And if you’re reading this and your health is something that’s a struggle for you, think on this: at least you can understand what you’re reading right now – and the emotion it evokes means that at whatever level, you’re ‘working’.

That’s pretty cool.

I was watching my 9-year old sleep last night. His eyes rolling under his eyelids. His lips twitching, sometimes forming a split-second smile. His shallow breathing because of the smaller lung size. Amazing. And I did that.

Well, ok I didn’t. But you know what I mean. God did. That’s some crazy stuff. From dust to a soul that steals my heart.

I went for a hike with one of my closest friends today. Talking about nonessentials and the stuff that matters most, we traversed over terrain that even a month ago I would have considered impossible.

At times we’d stop and just try to take it all in:

The warmth from the sun resting in the crisp, deep blue cloudless sky.
The air as it carried the chill from the frozen stream and the scent from fallen pines. The crunch of snow and the rolling pebbles cascading down.
And my own heartbeat, just like I had been listening to Luke’s the night before.

In this small experience through my limited perspective, I could imagine God looking down after creating it a while back and saying, “It is good.” Then, before I even knew it was coming out, I said it – and really meant it – “God, you really are good.” Despite it all, it still just spilled out of me, reassuring me that I hadn’t lost the thankfulness for the way He works, in big and very small ways.

And I hope that in that moment, God could see His creation among His creation, with a grateful heart and that it too was ‘good’, maybe even by human terms, miraculous – considering. I know it was for me.

At one point, we reached a spot where the tracks in the snow just stopped. Looking up, we saw that our pristine lake destination was going to elude us. I was on such a high that I decided to climb the frozen waterfall blocking our way. After all, I’d faced much bigger obstacles than that.

This, my friend, is never a good idea.

Sliding back down (not on purpose), I found myself massaging muscles that I didn’t know I had regained, or ever had for that matter. Even with a few abrasions, the only thing that was really hurt was my pride.

On the way back down the mountain, I knew that my fear of ‘normalizing’ after this experience was once and for all put to rest. Never again will I be able to see nature, relationships, or the value of a human life the same.

And that is good. 

to the hills

What stands out to me in this post is when you said...”how very tiny you are in the Grand Scheme”

I was just having a conversation with my sister today and had said to her...if we were to take that one huge mountain in our lives...the one that seems impossible to move...impossible to carry... impossible to get out from...and we place it in Gods hand what would it look like? I think it would appear to be so small.

Does that minimize what we go through on this earth...by no measure. But When we place it in his hands and no longer try to carry it ourselves. That might be guilt and pain...we put it in his hands and in some miraculous way it becomes so much smaller. His grace falls over it and his love covers it. The guilt I struggle with and the pain that somedays seems to consume me...I dont want it! I Hate the story that has played out for my life...but I can honestly say simply because I have experienced it for myself...God cares and somehow when I place it all in his hand, I feel this overwhelming strength rise up within me. He will do that for you too Chad. Someday...you will soar over those mountains . I pray that you can find that place in God...It amazes me how much your perspective on things can change when you are above it all. Things also appear to be so much smaller when you are above it all. Like in an airplane. Getting there is the hard part... the first step is simply letting go and putting it in Gods hand.

David looked to the hills...He looked to the one who created it all. The maker of Heaven and Earth. He looked to God for Help. “Lift up your eyes to the hills -”
Place your entire circumstances in Gods Hand and watch your feet begin to lift off the ground

poker face

Yeah I know. Not your typical Christmastime post. And nope. No Miss GaGa insightful quotes. But there is a link. Trust me, you just have to go with it.

December has been a tough one. And I know it’s been even harder for others in this ‘story’. There are moments of clarity and merriment, but they’re quickly overshadowed by tear stained memories.

I know the situation is not unique. Many of you have lost loved ones and have the same gut wrench when that certain Christmas song comes on or that personalized ornament is stumbled upon. All those stats about depression and suicide around the Christmas season – I get it now. Seems like ‘Merry Christmas’ is a slap in the face, doesn’t it?

But man, am I happy – genuinely – for those of you who don’t feel that pang this time of year. My sincere hope is that you get to realize the fullness of what Christmas was always meant to be.

Now – to the title. What does poker/Lady Gaga/5-card stud have to do with Christmas? Travel with me on a little free association tour...

Even despite the void that accompanies this holiday season, there’s still one thing I love about this time of year. It’s the way people treat each other. The smile, the door openings – and yes, even the letting in of others driving onto the on-ramp. Humans the world over disprove – at least for about a week – the theory that we are, at our base, selfish criminals. (Unless of course you’re looking for an Xbox 360 – then it’s each person for him or her self...)

I saw this transcendence just the other day when a curmudgeon behind the wheel of a minivan wouldn’t let another car onto the freeway. Scrooge’s recipient finally got in the lane and then was immediately given the same situation with the role reversed. Instead of following in the steps of his predecessor, he kindly let the oncoming car in.

Amazing how something like that sticks with you.

It got me thinking about life and everything in it. After a minute of two lost in deep thought (I do that way too much behind the wheel), it hit me: It’s all about your poker face.

It’s your response to things that define you. Not that you fake it, but it really doesn’t matter the hand you’re dealt. It’s how you play it. You can hold a royal flush and I can hold a high card of 7, but I can still own the round.

After everything is laid on the table, it’s not WHAT that matters in the end. It’s the HOW. Seriously, pretty basic stuff. But how do we stop from sinking back into ourselves? What causes that? Fatigue? Frustration? Hurt? How do we live Christmas year round? It’s straight out of the song, but I wish we could figure out how to live Christmas every day – our minds on Heaven with actions that follow. But maybe we’re just slaves to ourselves until we shed our skin suits. I think the chains can be broken, but it will take a whole lot of people changing a whole lot of habits. And then doing it all over again the next day.

I don’t want to keep looking back. You can’t anticipate what’s coming when you’re fixated on the rearview mirror. But the one thing that will always travel with me is the onus I feel to give and live beyond myself because of what’s happened.

So if you ever are in Denver and you’re trying to get on I25 and you look over and see me blocking your way, well – remind me that it’s Christmas, no matter what day it is.

Have a blessed Christmas everyone, and hurry up already 2011. I’m ready for a new beginning. 

kickin it

“For us this is the end of all the stories.....But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world.....had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read, which goes on forever and in which every chapter is better than the one before.” – C.S. Lewis

Here’s the problem. In order to really cope with what’s happened and to fully have the hope that we WILL see the ones we love, me and my family have scoured for scripture, experiences, and insights on what exactly Heaven will be like. Really be like. In doing that, my heart – my mind – becomes wrapped up in Heaven.

The old adage “Too heavenly minded to be any earthly good” comes into play here.

But really, here’s the issue. Heaven has become a very real place to me. More than a concept or some ethereal experience. And yeah, after all that I’ve come to know about the place, I’d rather be there than here. Period.

I’m forced with this reality: Yes, I want to be there, but I’m not, so now I’m faced with a compulsion to ask everyday – “What am I supposed to be doing down here in the meantime?” Especially considering the cost of my existence – both the gift of life that cost Ryan his and the gift of Grace that cost Christ incredible pain and death on a cross – I scream inside – literally ten times a day – “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME GOD???”

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing that I’m filled with this nagging question. It’s annoying, but it’s better than sleepwalking through life. It’s not fun. Sometimes I despise all that’s been done to secure my place here on earth because of the sense of some kind of ‘mantel’ that’s been thrown on my shoulders.

Don’t misread me. It’s not a sense of greatness I feel (see last post). I don’t take any pleasure in interviews, and honestly, this blog, as some have postulated. Although it’s a healing mechanism for me, I’ve said it before – it’s exactly like tearing a scab off every time I answer a question or put up a new post. I do it because I want to redeem the pain, the hurt for so many, and the darkness that’s fallen on those closest to this story that’s somehow captured the public eye in a way I still don’t understand.

There will be daybreak. I know it. Even though I don’t see it, God IS merciful. Borrowing Dad’s words, “God IS Good.” I have the faith. I have the hope. But I don’t know when or how absolution is coming to us.

I feel myself going through stages, like a passenger on an elevator – you see where you are, where you’ve been, and where you’re headed. I’m in the middle of grief and acceptance. I’m right there, and I know it.

“God, I fully appreciate how others have been touched and how your name has been on the lips of so many because of this. But now I’m making it personal. I’m being selfish for those at this epicenter.

Bono says he’s gonna kick the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight.

You know that we’re trying God. But we’re tired of the kicking and we’re tired of the tears. I know the heartache will never go away, but I’m asking that we might start laughing as often as we cry. That there would be joy in the morning instead of reality’s cold slap in the face. That there would be the sense that life can still be full with the time we have left here, this side of Heaven, despite the huge hole we feel with every breath. I’m asking – humbly – for those promises of a life devoted to you to become real for us.

And so I’m waiting for that God. Crack the sky and breathe brimming life back into each of us waiting for the night to give up the day.”

Amen. 

great

So Jake out of nowhere, says, “Dad, I like being me.”

It’s too bad we can’t all have that healthy of a perspective when it comes to how we perceive ourselves. Most of us don’t believe there’s anything incredibly noteworthy within to offer to the world.

I had the honor of having a cup of joe with Wes, the president of Compassion yesterday. Sitting in his office, you can’t help but feel the enormous weight of responsibility that he carries on his shoulders every day.

Our conversation segued from my health to work and over to life trials in general. But at the end of the conversation, he asked (I think, unless I just blurted it out – which is probably more likely) if I had any questions for him.

In fact, I did. The question: “When you were growing up, did you or any leaders around you sense greatness in you?”

Without a break, a simple “no”.

Hm. Makes me wonder. Here’s a man who leads an organization that has a broad reach – around the entire world – with an eternal impact on the lives of children and their families. Greatness, in my opinion.

Yet he never saw it coming...or, at least, early on anyway.

I found that incredibly freeing. You know how it is...you’re young and you’re not really sure where you fit on the world stage. You might hear people telling you that you’re destined for greatness.

Or, maybe you were told just the opposite.

Either way, life happens and we fall into normal. Kids to school. Presentations to present. Bills to pay.

Not great, but good. And that starts to be o.k.

But o.k. doesn’t last long, and we start to get restless. Frustrated. So we jump from job to job thinking something will click. We go back to get more schooling so we can get that big break.

Mark Zuckerberg. Anyone could have come up with that idea. But he did. And he’s worth 25 billion – surpassing Steve Jobs and becoming the youngest billionaire ever. If Facebook users were all in one place, it would be the 8th largest country in the world. He left an indelible imprint on this earth. He, in our most commonly known terms, achieved greatness. Still, I wonder – has he?

I wonder if you sense greatness in yourself. I’m going to roll the dice and say probably not. My guess is you think that somewhere along life’s narrative you missed your line in the script and now, well, the curtains have all but closed.

I last about 5 minutes in a motivational seminar. One person, standing in front of thousands, talking about leadership or success or greatness or determination with theoretical adages thrown into well-articulated anecdotes.

Truth is though, if you don’t believe there’s a seed of greatness in you, your chance has passed. Greatness doesn’t come seeking us out, I don’t think. It’s our response to life’s opportunities and adversities that defines the fingerprint we leave on our life.

I’ve been blessed with incredible parents whose echoes still ring in my ears...”You’re going to do something huge with your life, Chad.”

Truth is, at 38, I don’t ‘feel’ greatness inside of me. During the last four months, it’s been just the opposite – fighting the feeling of self pity – or feeling like I’ve been dealt a losing hand and the guy next to me just went all in. But when the haze clears, what will define me is my response to what’s happened and did I redeem the pain. It will be a long time before the last chapter is written, but I am going to keep striving to that end.

I’ll mess up. I know I’ll get frustrated, overwhelmed and afraid. But that’s what greatness robes itself in. “Pressing on, I take hold of that which has taken hold of me.”

I don’t think it matters if we feel that seed of greatness inside of us. My Maker says I was made in His image, so I figure that’s a good place to start.

An incredible price has been paid for you. How will you redeem that? Do you believe you were worth it? Can you say to God, and mean it:

“Dad, I like being me.” ...? Thanks for the life lesson Jakey. 

practically speaking

First let me put the disclaimer out there that I’m no expert on what I’m going to write about here. BUT, I thought I should try.

Live selflessly. What does that mean? I know we keep saying it when we’re talking about how Ryan lived – how we aspire to live. But how is it done? How do you move past just lip service?

Make no bones about it; I believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the mediator between God and man. My faith compels me to lay my life down, to surrender it to my Creator. That’s living selflessly.

BUT – you may not be there. You may not hold to that same belief. While that really, really, bums me out – I respect that. Doesn’t mean I’m not praying for a change though...

Whether or not you believe like I do, you can still do ‘selfless’. Being a “Christian” doesn’t automatically make me selfless. Some of the most selfish people I’ve ever met considered themselves Christian. Some of the most giving people I’ve had the privilege to meet haven’t laid their lives at the feet of Jesus.

Selfless isn’t just an idea or a notion. It’s very real. And practically speaking, there are things you can do today to start living selflessly.

Here’s an easy one: Go to the DMV. Check that box on your driver’s license and become an organ donor.

That one act could save up to 55 lives. Nine out of ten Americans say they’re in favor of organ donation. Only 3 in 10 do it. We all want to think we’d be selfless when called upon, but the majority of us simply aren’t.

Here’s another one. Sponsor a child out of poverty. Check out World Vision and see how you can help someone less fortunate. I’m not going to be shy about prodding someone to change the life of a child with the price of a couple pizzas each month. It just makes sense.

My brother Rod works for Charity Water. They bring life sustaining water to underdeveloped communities around the world. Help sponsor a well. See how it transforms an entire region.

If money is tight, or you feel like I’m being unabashedly commercial, then keep your wallet in your pocket. It’s yours. You earned it. Do one of these things instead:

* Leave work early some night this week and play a board game with your kids.

* Send your spouse out for a night with his or her friends.

* Call someone you know who is going through a hard time and ask if there’s anything you can do – and then do it. Be there.

Life’s a bone grinding mill. It’s tough, and at the end of the day we go home, lick our wounds, and get back at it the next day. It’s hard to reach outside of ourselves and see others in need. And then to actually do something about it? Almost impossible.

But that’s where I always go back to Ryan’s life. He worked hard. And when his last patient would leave for the day, he would beeline it home to be with his family. Not just fall into the lazyboy and watch the 6’oclock news. He was THERE. On the lake with them. Investing in his boys. If he knew his neighbor needed help with something, no question he was there. If he knew a friend was going through it, he made it a priority to lend a hand. When he knew I was in the fight of my life, he gave of himself freely.

Start with one selfless act. Stretch it to two. Before long, you’ll find it’s a way of life for you – a rewarding, rich life.

I’m not there yet. I can do more. I think we can always do more. But it just starts with one simple act. What’s yours going to be? 

moment of clarity

Today I was getting ready in the darkness of our room. I’ll be honest – I was feeling sorry for myself. The wounds that linger, both physical and emotional. The weight I struggle to put back on. And a scar that has healed, but will never heal.

I was feeling beat down, the scourge of the earth.

At that moment, the sun cleared the neighbor’s rooftop and peeked through the pines – hitting me square in the eyes through the only window in the room. At once I knew that was a message directly for me from a world so far away, and a heartbeat away.

I wasn’t cursed. Yes, I had been singled out in the classroom – by the Great Teacher – but not to be ridiculed or tormented. To be a reflection of His love and kindness to a world that’s largely forgotten how to reach beyond itself. I should know. Up until recently, I set the example.

But I realized, in that simple moment, how thankful I was. “How could you be thankful after everything you’ve been through?” you might ask, and rightfully so.

But I am.

I am thankful for the ability to stand on my own.

I am thankful for wounds that heal, in the physical and the spiritual.

I am thankful for the sound of little feet across a wood floor early in the mornings.

I am thankful for family, who has loved and held me up when I couldn’t take another step.

I am thankful for a brother who reminds the rest of us to love each other like it’s our last day together, because someday it will be, at least here on earth.

I am thankful this is not goodbye, that I have an eternity to catch up with him. I am thankful for friends who encourage me, even some who I’ve never met.

It is our first holiday season without him. But really, we’re not without him. The empty chair, the stocking with his name on it – these could be sad reminders of times more innocent, but we choose something different.

When I have moments like this morning before the sun breaks through, I have to remember to be thankful. This is not a trite holiday reminder. It’s a way of thinking that can move you from a place of self doubt and misery to a place of incredible gratitude and appreciation for the moments we have left here, this side of Heaven – to see the world outside of ourselves. 

beanstalks and unicorns

I’m writing more because there are things my family and I believe so firmly, that Ryan believed so unshakably, that need to be said – and I’m not a complete fool. This is a news story. Human interest. Unfortunately, human interest is fickle and has a very short memory. So I’ll write during this window – while you’re still interested – of the most important things in our lives. If you were on your deathbed, these are the things I would want you to hear. I owe it to you.

Yesterday, a comment came through that called all this a fairy tale – that this belief that my family, myself, and Ryan have always subscribed to is just as featherbrained as Jack climbing up a huge garden plant or a horse with a growth shooting out of his snout.

These kind of comments don’t rattle me at all. In fact, I respect the honesty that comes with that comment. But while I respect that, I have a concern – and it’s not the kind of condescending, religious “worried for your soul” concern. Here it is: I’m ok with someone coming to that conclusion if they’ve really worked it out through and through. And if they have, I applaud the person who steps outside of the everyday rigor and contemplates eternity. BUT, my concern is if that conclusion, that (un)belief has been reached by simply reading the crib notes. We all need to make sure we’ve worked this out – thoroughly – so that we can stand behind our mantras.

I won’t hide the fact that I’ve read Psalm 13 and felt I was reading my own words, written with my own hand. I’ve asked the searing questions – the same questions even Jesus asked after hours of agony on the cross – “Why have you forsaken me?”. If serial killers get away with murder after murder and if children get abused, where is God if He’s all knowing? How come He lets those things happen? If He’s Abba Father, why does it feel like He just handed me a rock when I asked for bread? Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t pretend to. I know there are answers to these questions, but I’ll have to hear them on the other side. And by that point, I guess, I really won’t care.

If God were small enough to be understood, He wouldn’t be big enough to be worshipped. – Evelyn Underhill

And I’m not talking simply about apologetics or exegesis or the Dead Sea Scrolls. You and I can go round and round, and at the end of that day, we’ll both be staring at each other with glazed over eyes and slobber running down our chin, teetering on the brink of dementia.

See, the thing is, you can try and disprove God. I can try and convince you with proof of God. But really, at some point, you’ve got to take that Indiana Jones step into the abyss and believe (or not) that the rock is (or isn’t) going to save you from the fall.

Another reader replied to the first comment:

“Or maybe God is larger than you can imagine with a plan that you can’t comprehend. Who is man that God would have to explain Himself to you? Whether you believe in Him or not has nothing to do with whether He exists or not. I truly hope you will examine the issue and ask Him to reveal Himself to you. You risk a lot if you are wrong. Someday we will all know the truth, won’t we?”

Well stated. But let me add on to that. I can identify with the person who made the fairy tale comment. I struggle with how my journey fits into any kind of plan. But I’ve done my own ‘working through’, and I keep coming back to what this second reader says. From my human vantage point, I’m in a painfully hopeless situation. But, if I peer into my soul (notice I didn’t say brain), I notice an unmistakable emptiness – a chasm of gloom – that is only filled with the belief that there HAS to be a force bigger than me, a creator of all the infinitesimal order that can’t be chased away with words like “chance”, “randomness” or “coincidence”.

I’m not saying that faith means shutting off your brain, like some criticize. In fact, I believe there is more empirical evidence in favor of my belief than there is against it. BUT, faith demands that I believe in something I can’t explain, or even see. But even with that, I argue that I can see God by the impact He has on lives, much like we know the wind exists by the sway of the branches of a tree. But here’s the end of my blathering – I know God exists because of my own experience, and that’s all the proof I need.

“Awesome God, I cannot fully comprehend you or your ways. As much as I have tried, there are still so many questions – and yes, moments of frustration and even anger. Still, that doesn’t change who you are to me. More than that, it only confirms it. You have created each of us with the ability to choose or reject you. Somewhere along the way in the search for the sublime, I came to know you in a very real way. For others, the path led them to a different destination. My prayer is that you would spare them the pain and heartache that I went through to get to my place of knowing, but that you would make yourself equally as real to them as you have to me in my upheaval. God, you are mind-boggling – and sometimes, that is the obstacle that must be overcome for the finite mind trying to grasp the infinite. Somehow, if even in the smallest way, make yourself known to those who have stopped looking for you.”

One of the things that can’t be overlooked is something that the second commenter says at the very end of their entry:

You risk a lot if you are wrong. Someday we will all know the truth, won’t we?”

What’s more, think of it in the opposite way. My family’s faith offers a hope that allows us to see Ryan again. He is alive even now. More alive I think than we are. And what’s really cool is something I heard Stephen Curtis Chapman say (paraphrase) that for those who believe, we have the majority of our lives left to spend with those who have gone to heaven before us. What staggering sadness for those who don’t believe in God or His heaven. It all ends with the earth suit. No thanks!

So don’t throw it all away now. You were sure of yourselves then. It’s still a sure thing! – Hebrews 10:35 (The Message).

My sister, Janelle, sent me two comments that really resonated with her yesterday. Maybe they’ll resonate with you too:

“I have always questioned God and his purpose. I was told once that faith was developed so that warriors would not fear death. A source of courage. An answer to the questions we can’t answer. So as people we would not go crazy with worry. I read of your ordeal and I questioned myself. I always felt I had all the answers and when they were wrong I would say “How could God do this to me”. How selfish am I. After reading this I finally understand something that faith is not a tool that you turn on and off when you need it. It is not the cause or answer to what happens on a daily basis. Faith is a way of life. Faith is a way of living life. Faith is knowing that the problems we face are not caused by God, faith is knowing that God is there to help you through the tough times. Faith has left me for a long time. Thank you to you and your family for bringing me back.”

And here’s the second:

“Dear Arnold Family
I do not know if this will reach you. I am not good with computers.
I have thought of you all so very often.
During hard times, I have thought of your faith, and been comforted.
I have thought of the brothers, and envied that kind of love.
I have thought of the tiny three boys, and beautiful young mother.....
I have tried my best to say a rusty prayer.....and hoped it was adequate.
I hope heaven waits...... I have wondered if it does. It seems too wonderful to be true........ But, maybe, Ryan is safely there. For the first time, in a long time, I have thought.... maybe it is all true. – Thank you.”

I don’t really know how to wrap this up, so I’ll hand it over to the Man in Black – Ladies and Gentlemen, Johnny Cash, the Mercy Seat:

“And the Mercy Seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I’m yearning
To be done with all this weighing of the truth. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth

And anyway I told the truth And I’m not afraid to die.”

Ryan lived it. And I can say it. What about you?