A Paddleboard Lesson

Dolphin enthusiast, marine admirer and ocean lover Noelle wadded into the shallow waters of the Gulf of Mexico bursting with excitement at the adventure ahead - her first excursion into salt waters on a stand-up paddleboard. The beach attendant from the paddleboard shop helped her up onto her board and gave her the basic instructions, although she barely heard his words over the daydreams of dolphin encounters swirling through her mind. She steadied herself on the board, grabbed her paddle and pushed off into the wide open waters.
From the shore we all watched her glide along the calm, serene blue sea. It was a picturesque scene plucked straight from a postcard. But then the scene became disconcerting. Noelle was venturing far off into the waters. Her, sixteen-year old, five foot four frame looking smaller and smaller with each passing moment.
From the shore we all began to shout in a futile attempt to get Noelle's attention. We frantically waved our arms up and down, motioning to the shore. It was like a game of charades but Noelle didn't know we were playing. She didn't even look in the direction of dry land. In her blissful state of unaware Noelle continued floating further away from the shore and further down the coast.
Desperate to bring back our oblivious seafarer we rushed back to the beach attendant. He powered up his jet ski and zoomed off in Noelle's direction. Immediately he knew the predicament. Without knowing, Noelle had been taken away in the ocean's current. With the dazzling dolphin display distracting her, Noelle had completely forgotten to look at the land and pay attention to the course of her journey.
As we watched the attendant pull Noelle out of the current and back to the safety of shore I saw a vivid picture of God's rescue for me. How many times have I wandered off God's path in blissful ignorance? It begins so innocently. I simply take my eyes off of the cross for what feels like a split-second and before I know it I'm a mile away from the safe, God-honoring path.
Thankfully, God has deployed a rescue mission fulfilled in the cross, accomplished by Jesus Christ. God knew I would venture down ill-fated roads and get terribly off course so He planned for my redemption. Just like the lifeguard who is at the ready to jump in and save the drowning, or the beach attendant who is ready to pull in a stranded paddleboarder, God has placed Jesus at the ready to come to my aid and pull me to safety. Only through salvation in Jesus can I be pulled from the currents of sin and the tide of rebellion. I will only make it back to shore by the blood of Jesus.
I am happy to conclude Noelle's saga with good news. She made it back to land safe and sound and with quite a story to tell and a lesson to share: don't take your eyes off of God because before you know it you'll be perilously far away from the safety of His shore.

The wind-whipped umbrella

On a cool summer night I lay fast asleep in my bed, a pleasant breeze passing through my open windows. The temperature was just right for sleeping, my pillows were perfectly fluffed and my dreams were peaceful and sweet.
And then the winds kicked up. The breeze turned into gusts. I woke up to the whistling of a northwestern wind whipping through the trees, causing branches to beat against the side of the house. A few moments later rain began to fall in buckets, piercing the gutters, providing an musical element of pinging to the wind's gusts.
Then, as if on cue, came an alarming crash. The instant I heard the sound I immediately knew its source. It was the umbrella. And not just any umbrella. It was the beautiful deck umbrella made of teak, enveloped by an emerald green canopy and adorned with strings of white twinkle lights. It rested in a concrete stand in the center of our outdoor, deck table. As a family we sat under the shade of that canopy nearly every summer night eating grill-prepared meals and ice cream sundaes for dessert. But even the well-built, sturdy umbrella didn't stand a chance against the sudden storm's powerful squalls.
I jumped from my bed and rushed down the stairs to find a disastrous scene and my heartbroken Mother. The umbrella, broken in pieces, lay resting at the bottom of the deck stairs. Pieces of wood lay in a trail of destruction leading to the pile of shattered twinkle lights mangled around splintered teak and ripped green canvas.
I hadn't anticipated the coming wind and rain. The weather forecast wasn't consulted to check on any unlikely storms stirring off in the distance. It had never crossed my mind to turn the simple pulley system on the umbrella's pole and bring the canopy to a safely closed position for the night. Now the umbrella was nothing more than a mess to be disposed of with the next trash collection.
Recalling the sad end to my family's beloved umbrella reminded me of the unpredictable nature of storms and the destruction they so easily leave behind. Those of us who fail to prepare risk suffering as a result of the unforeseen, disastrous disturbance.
When it comes to the elemental storms of this physical life we often get warning thanks to the weather man and never-ending news cycle. The preparation for meteorological storms is straight-forward. Put down the umbrella canopy. Sure up the windows. Bring in the wind chimes. But there is a very different kind of storm that rarely comes with an alert, blasting horn or red banners running across the bottom of the TV screen.
The storms of the personal life come unannounced and produce infinitely more damage than a destroyed piece of patio furniture. Thankfully, there is a protocol for preparation. By remaining connected to the anchor of Christ in all circumstances - sunny, stormy and everything in between - we can be ready for whatever life will bring.
The preparation God advocates is an everyday suring up of our hearts and securing of our souls. To enjoy the fullness of God's protection we can't simply wait for the storm to roll in and then seek refuge. The destruction will happen too quickly. We must remain in Christ at all times to be fully guarded against the devastation the sudden storm can and will cause.
A storm is coming. I don't know when but I know that someday, without a warning or watch in effect, the storm will roll in. From now on I'm taking the canopy down on my umbrella and I'm taking my heart to the foot of the cross. In all ways I will prepare for the winds and rains so that I can make it through the storm in peace, security and with an upright umbrella.

Hide-and-Seek

The internet has created a whole new avenue to fame and it doesn't require talent or skill. All it takes is failing and doing it with cuteness and absolutely no creativity. It all starts with an innocent game of hide-and-seek. That's all it takes for a star to be born.

Take, for example, the underwear-clad toddler standing stalk still in a corner with a lampshade over her head. She was, needless to say, found. 

Or how about the slightly built little girl who managed to squeeze behind the bathroom toilet? Her body fit - barely - but her big brown eyes and curly head of hair sticking out above the tank was a dead give away. The seekers didn't have much of a challenge on their hands.

A sheepskin rug couldn't provide effective covering for a little boy laying perfectly still on the kitchen floor. Nor did the clear-tupperware container atop a tiny little boy keep his parents from quickly discovering their air-deprived son. From little toes sticking out of piles of laundry to motionless kids standing behind lights posts, children's unsuccessful attempts to go undetected are going viral. 

For the adults and talented hiders and seekers the ridiculous hiding places of the newbie players to the game provide a good laugh. "How cute that they thought standing in the fridge with the door only half-shut would keep them from being found!" we think to ourselves. Then we take a picture, laugh and post it to Instagram for the whole world to see. Hiding fail. 

We experienced hide-and-seekers may think we've outgrown the childish ways of shower curtains and sheet cushions to keep us out of plain sight but God has taken our picture and He has proof that we fail at hiding, too. Our best attempts at hiding from God look just as silly as the toddler with a Winnie the Pooh atop his head. God still sees us. 

There is no place to hide that is out of God's sight. Staying out of church won't keep us hidden. Covering up our feelings and our sin won't work, either. I've tried refusing to pray and holding onto my anxieties in the pit of my stomach. God still sees my heart and finds a way to speak into my soul. I can't hide from His will. I can't escape His presence. He is the Master Seeker. 

When God looks down on me it doesn't even take Him a moment to spot my hiding place and the hidden corners of my heart. I am always visible and vulnerable before the Lord. 

With God I'll need to find another kind of fun, one that doesn't include a game of hide-and-seek, because I'll never win. And I won't end up a viral internet sensation either. I've already been found. 

Game over. 

The ultimate rescue mission

Jon Taffer is on a mission. A Bar Rescue mission. Every Sunday night a new episode features a failing bar business begging for the help of Taffer and his team. In desperation, owners of failing bars write letters and send videos hoping to be chosen as the next bar rescued from the brink of the out-of-business disaster.

Once chosen the real work begins as Taffer and his team sweep in and take over. It starts with an assessment of the problems plaguing the business. Is it the menu, the customer service, the decor or the sub-par concoctions? Then Taffer does a complete establishment overhaul, from the ground up - literally. He breaks down walls if necessary. He fires employees and retrains the rest. He changes the name of the business and revamps the menu. He breaks down the budget and takes over the checkbook. He markets, he manages, he master plans. All in an attempt to save a bar. 

Or so you think.

For Mr. Taffer, Bar Rescue is about way more than providing alcoholic beverages and saving saloons. He believes he is on a mission to deliver families from the brink of bankruptcy, protect Dad's from losing their livelihoods and ensure that the house won't go to auction to pay off the debt of a business disaster. 

Taffer doesn't believe he's just saving bars. He believes he is saving people. 

This coming weekend Taffer will celebrate his one-hundreth episode. When asked what has made his show such a hit and the bars such a success, even years after he's gone, Taffer replied, "I'm passionate." With his whole heart Taffer went on to talk about the plight of the families behind the bars. He spoke with genuine care and concern for their futures. What would happen if the bar failed? Would the family lose their home? How many employees would lose their jobs? Taffer didn't see a bar when he saw the application videos and letters from candidates, he saw desperate and needy people crying out for help.

I wonder how many of us hear that cry from our fellow man as they struggle to find their ultimate salvation? Their calls for help often come quietly, without a video presentation or tear-soaked letter. Sometimes the calls come in the silence of depression. Others call with their sin and their wayward living. The desperate pleading is all around us. Do we hear it? Are we eager to sweep in with the message of redemption and hope that is only found in Jesus Christ? Are you and I committed to being part of the ultimate soul saving rescue mission?

The need of the perishing is more pressing than a failing business or struggling establishment. This is a matter of eternal life and eternal death. There is no great mission worthy of greater passion than the rescue mission to tell all the world that salvation has come and His name is Jesus Christ. 

"Spring is coming"

Every year, without fail, winter comes. In Northern Pennsylvania it is a sorrowful turn of seasonal events. Leaves descend to the ground, causing trees to go bare, naked without their lush coverings. The green grass starts to dull in color even before the first snowflake blankets the earth. The sky goes grey, casting shadows of gloomy chill on every window pane.
And then there are the birds. They don't linger in the falling temperatures. At the first sign of frost they take off for the warmth of the southern sun. A shortage of food supply and a lack of leafy green vegetation send the birds sailing off for bluer skies and friendly foliage. With them goes the beautiful music they share every morning and the visual beauty of their winged adventures. Their migratory departure creates a void that remains unoccupied all winter long.
Weeks turn into months and the silence becomes deafening. The combination of low level clouds, piles of snow and icy streets threaten all hopes of spring and the return of the beloved song bird. Why would they ever come back to such depressed conditions when they can stay where its warm and share their tunes down south?
And then, as if out of nowhere, daybreak brings a tweet and a twitter outside my shut-up window. At first I can hardly believe my ears. Could it be? Could the birds have returned?
The sun hasn't returned quite yet. The clouds still look grey. I am still pulling on my boots and buttoning up my coat to venture out into the cold yet the birds have reappeared.
Before the first bud is spotted on the barren rose bush or the first leaf breaks through on vacant trees, the birds know that a change is in the air and they return to announce the coming of the long awaited, highly anticipated spring.
With the tune performed by faithful feathered musicians comes the blessed proclamation of the renewal of the earth. The restoration of green grass, blue skies and warm air is under way. Hope is  budding beneath the surface, on the cusp of springing into glorious, bountiful, beautiful life.
In the tune of the bird comes the promise of a future. In their song the proclamation that God is busy at work just beneath the surface, making all things new. Their music declares that God's work of renewal cannot and will not be thwarted. The faithful plans and purposes of the Lord will always overcome.
The birds are here, hallelujah, and they are signing the song that celebrates with hope and expectation, "Look, spring is coming!"

Perfect perfume

It was a day like any other. I sat at my usual seat, in my usual cafe, surrounded by the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and sugary-sweet cinnamon bagels toasted to golden perfection. 

And then he walked through the door, and everything changed. 

Not so fast, this grand entrance had nothing to do with dashing good looks. It had everything to do with the cologne wafting through the door as he entered, announcing his arrival. 

Gone was the enticing scent of cinnamon. The coffee bean aroma became, in an instant, utterly undetectable. Suddenly my nose came under a full-blown fragrance assault.

I tried to hold back my obvious repulsion to the offending onslaught of the evil cologne bottle. I thought about coffee. I thought about the baking of pecan rolls and freshly baked bread. I tried my hardest not to think about perfume, Ax and the fragrant cologne counter at Macy's. But no matter how hard I tried, my mind simply couldn't overcome the eau du toilette. 

Fighting the temptation to plug my nose, a lesson in perfect perfume application began to take shape. I've never been a regular fragrance spritzer, at least not in the traditional sense. But there is an aroma I should be exuding every day, in every situation. The aroma of Christ. 

Wearing the pleasing aroma of Christ doesn't require a glass bottle and a simple spirtz on the wrist and neck. To put on Christ takes a whole different process of application. 

It all starts with the washing. Naturally, my aroma is one spoiled by sin and shame. It stinks worse than rotten fish and offends infinitely more than overly applied cologne. I need to be cleansed by the blood of Jesus. The moment I surrender and submit to Christ He breaks out holy scrub brushes and shampoos, immediately washing away all of my impurities, removing the filth of my guilty transgressions. 

Then comes the application of the sweet aroma of His Spirit. God, with His expert hand, perfectly applies the pleasing fruits of His goodness. Grace, love and mercy are poured into my heart so that they will be detectable in all of my comings and goings. The indwelling of the most precious perfume is administered in such a way that it wafts into the air with heavenly beauty, spreading the testimony of redemption and salvation.  

Apart from Christ my aroma is doomed to spoil my witness. Just as an overly applied bottle of cologne stings the nose, my sinful stench will offend the heart of God. 

But I can be made clean. By the grace of God I can be made to beautiful and fragrant aroma of Christ. 

Mr. Rogers, down for the struggle

Love is a struggle.
Just ask Mr. Rogers.
Yes, that's right, the gentle minister turned children's show TV host known for his blue tennis shoes and perfectly pressed button down cardigan was down for the struggle. The love struggle. In the Neighborhood of Make-Believe where he enchanted his viewers with puppets and taught lessons with marionettes, Mr. Rogers taught about the reality of love. True love that is anything but a fuzzy fantasy. Biblical love that is "an active noun like struggle."
Mr. Rogers taught children (and adults too) about loving like Christ.
When Mr. Rogers told kids how to love he rooted his curriculum in the timeless truth of John 15:13, the ultimate struggle of Jesus laying down His life for sinners. The greatest love of all, the love of the perfect Savior paying a penalty He didn't deserve to redeem the lost and pardon the guilty, was at the heart of Mr. Rogers' lessons on love. Lessons that stand the eternal test of time.
To love like Christ is to choose to follow Christ, take up a burdensome cross and struggle. It is to wrestle with people's imperfections and endeavor to accept them in spite of their flaws. Love for others is, at its core, a labor of love for Christ.
Apart from the indwelling of the Lord's love I am bound to fail at giving love to my fellow man. Their day-to-day annoyances, quirks and bothersome habits are sure to squelch weak, emotional love. All the fuzzy feelings in the world will turn rough and rigid under the pressure of agitation.
To give consistent, genuine love is only by the indwelling of Christ. I must surrender to Christ, pick up my own cross and follow Him and His example of love. Love that endured the hardship of scorn, the pain of nails and the agony of a death to save my doomed soul.
Christ didn't sugar-coat true love, and neither did Mr. Rogers. It is not a walk through a land of make-believe. Love is a struggle. But it is worth the fight because when we love like Christ and suffer with Christ we are united with Him in His pain and one day will be united with Him in His glorious, eternal neighborhood of Heaven.