Defining Moments-ACW rough draft, the second

Defining moment…it’s a phrase used to describe winning seasons and military victory and political decisions as well as a million other decisions, both big and small, that act as turning points in life. To me, these are the moments where one decision changes my path and where one decision demonstrates more about who I am and who I’ll become than years of education or self-study could ever provide.

I think that most of the time we view defining moments as places where we overcome great adversity and triumph over difficulties. Perhaps those are the moments that we remember best: come-from-behind wins over the league champions or battling and beating a deadly disease, reaching the literal or figurative top of the mountain after a challenging climb, meeting the person or place that could change a life. Each of these moments is filled with powerful emotions and elements of the heroic. A breast-cancer patient who defeats cancer must remember vividly the delivery of the good news, the positive prognosis, clearly. The athlete that strives to be the best, standing on a podium accepting a medal, has reached the pinnacle. But what about the first moment, the decision to follow through with a routine check up or to step up on the balance beam for the first time?

The truth about defining moments is that we often don’t know we’re in them. Defining moments are most clearly visible through the lens of hindsight or reflection. These kinds of defining moments surround us in the everyday. Maybe it’s just an after dinner discussion where I calmly prayed a prayer and declared myself a follower of Christ. Clearly, I had no idea where that choice would lead, but in that moment, I made the decision that put me on the path to this place in time. Because of that one, quiet, unassuming and momentous occasion, I’ve never been alone in a defining moment since. In the Message translation, Psalm 139:5 says, “I look behind me and you're there, then up ahead and you're there, too— your reassuring presence, coming and going.” The lesson that I’m continually learning is that, when it comes to the big moments of life, I can relax. The God who loves me and calls me His is already there.

More than once I’ve said that I could be happy with God’s plan for my life if I only knew where it was headed, if I could just be sure of what my future held. I think this desire to read the future is a symptom of youth. Aging teaches the benefits of not being able to see past today. If I had known the outcomes of some of the decisions that I’ve made before I made them, making the right choice would have been nearly impossible. Thankfully, although I do not know the future, I know the One who does. And He is with me in the moments where I worry, rationalize, plot and plan and in the moments where I choose.

Conversion stories don’t really come any more mundane than mine. Similarly, I had no idea the day that I succumbed to the pressure of a friend to join her workplace Bible study that I was facing a decision that someday I’d look back on and say, “Yes, that’s where this whole thing started.” God met me in that Bible study, the God that was already working on my heart, my angry heart. Another symptom of my youth was a conviction that life would be fair. And as I stepped into that Bible study, I was slowly recovering from the trauma caused by the realization that, indeed, life often seems shatteringly unfair. Even when you pray the prayer, firm in your trust and belief, sometimes the cure doesn’t come and dealing with the pain of loss is difficult and the bitterness of disillusionment only compounds that. Still, in those 40 days, I heard God speak clearly, even through my bitter complaint and the tears of a hurt child. Like stacked dominos that fall one right after the other, each day built on the last until I felt God’s call more clearly than I ever had before or since.

As a result, I did something that I’d feared my entire Christian life. I went on a short-term mission trip. As a citizen of the fast-food nation, my biggest concern was over the lack of French fries. And it’s really funny now to think about all my reservations: raising money, not speaking the language, having to eat unidentified objects. It was tough to make the decision to go and I threw up as many roadblocks as I could to try to derail God. And through it all, I learned. I learned about who God is, what He can do, and what He accomplishes through His people. And then I faced the really difficult decision, the one that required me to know what God had already been teaching me.

My mom, the person I loved best in the world, didn’t really want me to go to Peru, but she never said that. And while I was preparing to go, she was going through doctor visits and tests. And just before my trip, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. Her surgery to remove the grapefruit sized tumor in her lung was scheduled for a Wednesday, the day I’d be half a world away, out of touch.

I’m not a doctor. I’m not a surgeon, but I was convinced that something terrible would happen if I weren’t there to control the situation. In my comfortable world, there is always a right answer and success is just a matter of working hard enough. I got on the plane anyway and I went to Peru, a place I had no desire to go with people I didn’t know, called by a God I didn’t trust to take care of the person who meant more to me than the world.

On that Wednesday, my whole group made the trip to another town to find a public phone. Everyone made calls, but I knew that trip was for me. And I called. I called every number I could to try to find a family member with an update. And because I don’t control this world, I was unsuccessful. I went out to wait for everyone to finish and sat on a bench, next to a very small park, in the middle of a deserted town high in the Andes and just tried to keep it together. I sat there and tried to keep it together, too out of control to even pray for an answer or my mom or my own sanity.

And my God, knowing my needs even when I can’t express them, sent an answer. Angie, my friend on the trip, had spoken to her dad, a pastor at our church. One of the staff had been to the hospital and had gotten an update on my mom and my family. She was out of surgery and in recovery and my family was fine. And on that same bench, I learned invaluable lessons. I am not the keeper of my universe. Thankfully, because of a decision I made years ago, I have a God who loves me and wants good things for me, things like trust in Him, knowledge of Him, the wisdom that comes from learning the difficult and unfair lessons of life. I sat there on the bench, surrounded by people who cared for me, not because I could work hard or make a funny joke, but because that simple decision to follow Christ brought us together, even to this place so far away from home.

That was the summer of 2004. I went again to Peru in the summer of 2005, hoping to rekindle the flame of faith that burned so brightly after I made it home from the first trip. And my mother’s cancer treatment came to an end when the doctors said they could do no more in 2006. Then my prayer was for mercy, not for healing, and God’s answer to my prayer was clear and unmistakable.

Looking back, I can see the small decisions that had enormous impact. When I think of what God sees when He looks at my life, I imagine a sort of road map, with my twists and turns, marked by the towns of College and Career and large cities of Pain and Loss and Fear and Joy and Blessing. And as I write this, I’m curious to see which things that seem so commonplace today will actually shape my tomorrow. Looking back, I can see God’s hand at work. And looking forward, I can know that, although I can’t see Him from here, He’s already there, waiting for me in that defining moment.

The Lizard Story

If you had warned me that the highlight of that day would be showering with a lizard, I would have refused to move out of my sleeping bag that morning. And this was no famous spokeslizard with a flashy foreign accent prepared to sell me car insurance. This was a flesh-colored, beady-eyed, black-eyed lizard stuck to the side of the shower stall. This lizard was way too creepy to sell insurance or anything else, although I’m certain his Peruvian accent would have been lovely.

And I met him after I stepped, fully clothed and trailing a dirt cloud behind me, into a shower in a “hotel” room high in the Andes Mountains. I was on my first ever mission trip, my first trip outside the US, my first trip to Peru, my first trip to the Andes, and the day began with my first ever forced march in said mountains with a group of much more athletic-y people than myself. We drove as far as we could and as the road became too narrow and unstable to drive, we got out to walk, carrying our backpacks filled with eyeglasses and small New Testaments. And I started out well...walking at an unbelievable altitude on a rocky, dirt path with two temperatures...freeze-you-in-the-shade or fry-you-in-the-sun. And then the path got a little harder, a little higher, a little steeper and my heart began to race and my head to pound and the spirit was willing to continue but the flesh was so, so very weak.

I begged to stop. I'd happily sit in the dirt, on a rock, in the sun, or in the shade as long as I could just sit and wait for them to return. That was before I knew about the lizards. At that point, sitting (and maybe not dying from massive heart eruption or head combustion) was my deepest desire. I prayed fervently. I didn't want to be the weak one or for anyone to turn around for me. “Please, God, don’t let me fail. Please, please just don’t let me fail” was my mantra, until it changed over to “Please, God, don’t let me fall. Please just don’t let me die because my mother will kill me.” I just wanted to sit, maybe dangle my feet over the edge of the road, and look at the very, very, very long way down. Yes, you could literally do that. And I'm not surefooted on my best days, but with pounding head and heart and heaving chest, I had to turn around and get back to the truck. It felt like the longest hike in the world, although I never lost sight of the truck so we’re probably talking yards instead of miles. With my tingling feet and hands, flying back to it seemed as likely as actually being able to walk back. I spent more time in the dirt trying to catch my breath and listening to my heart pound than I did upright. Eventually, my snail’s pace progress paid off and I made it back to the truck and into town.

And the aforementioned hotel was, of course, locked. We were the only people staying there. So I sat on the steps of a town in the Andes, all alone, baking in the sun but at a lower heat due to the lower altitude until the children came. They thought I had candy. They believe all strangers have candy. And I agree that they should. I didn't. I had dirt and sweat and very warm water and a crushing disappointment, but no candy. We chatted. In Spanish, my conversation consists of birthday questions, days of the week, time, colors, and other elementary comments just perfect for a group of children who came looking for candy.

I stuttered along and they giggled until the manager came along to unlock the door. And then I ditched those children quickly, as quickly as they would have deserted me if someone with candy instead of broken Spanish came along. I was following the siren song of an icicle shower to wash away my pains. My experience with water is in the Andes isn't so much whether it's warm. It usually isn’t. Again, here you have two choices: numbing cold runoff from melting mountain snow or blistering hot scald thanks to unknown electric water-heater-upper. No, the biggest question is whether the water is actually running. And this was my lucky break that day. It was running. It was brain-freeze cold and running.

So I made it to the bathroom, turned on the blessed water, and stepped inside fully clothed. I stayed there for a moment, watching the dirt on my shirt and pants and shoes turn into mud. And rejoiced to be alive. And back in my natural habitat (anywhere indoors). And then I saw the lizard and I began to pray again. I think it went something like “Please, God, don’t let it jump on my face. Please don’t let it jump.”

And I know God answers prayers. That lizard never moved. Clearly, I wanted that shower. I wanted that shower more than I wanted away from that lizard. And that’s saying something. And he never moved. Even after I had my fill of water and dragged my soggy mess out of that shower, he didn’t move. Mr. Shower Lizard was probably busy praying too. Mr. Shower Lizard was probably afraid I was going to take my clothes off next. I’m glad I couldn’t hear his prayers.

I don’t really remember much clearly after that, but eventually my brain began to thaw and I began to worry. Worry is actually my natural state so that was probably a good sign of my recovery. How was I going to face the rest of the group after my spectacular failure? And I was certain that everyone else would view it the same way. I couldn’t keep up, too out of shape to make the hike that everyone else made. And, really, this isn’t all that unusual a place for me. I don’t run unless someone’s chasing me, I try to avoid the extremes in temperature normally associated with the whole “being outside” thing, and walking can strain the limits of my coordination. The entire trip for me was a series of “God, what am I doing here?” moments. This was just one more.

The memory verse that we were using to help teach English that week was Phillippians 4:13: I can do everything through him who gives me strength. Or “Todo es posible con Cristo” if you prefer. And just to make sure that I got the message, God sent a lizard. Before that trip, I would have told you that showering with a lizard would be impossible. Visions of the horrors of a leaping lizard would have convinced me that there is no way to remain in a confined space with a lizard, no matter the trauma leading up to it. Clearly, I would have been wrong. And I think that’s the thing about surrendering to God’s will.

There are innumerable things about that trip that I would have said were impossible if you’d asked me. The very idea that I would go on a mission trip…you know, all outside and stuff would have topped the list. And the inconceivable idea that I’d shower with a lizard? Never! How much time do you think about the indigenous shower dwelling lizards of the Andes Mountains? Probably no more than I did before that trip. Now, I think about indigenous shower lizards a little more often.

I have an awesome God. My God sees high in the Andes Mountains. He knows all the days of my life, the ones before that trip and the ones that followed. He sees me and knows me. And in that moment, my God was with me. My God knew that I would need a way to break the ice, to get over myself and my failure, and to let others love me anyway. My God knew that the only way for me to conquer this disappointment was to laugh. And, truly, my God works in mysterious ways.

That lizard never moved until he was escorted out, tail-end up. When my group returned, someone asked me how I was feeling and I explained the shower and the lizard. The girls squealed and shuddered as is only proper and one brave soul, a valiant he-man type, picked up Mr. Shower Lizard and threw him out the window, where he no doubt, thanked his lucky stars and scampered away.

I can’t explain all the lessons that I learned on that trip. Away from my comfort and security, there is only God. There are dozens of stories that illustrate who I was and what I learned about Him, myself, and His overwhelming love for me. Some of them are even deep, meaningful, and surpassingly theologically relevant. The lizard story is just easier to tell.

On the newstand

I really dislike grocery shopping. I don't believe I've ever met someone who really loved it, but I do enjoy it more because I shop at Wal-Mart. I know it's the evil empire. I don't care. It became the evil empire because it's very, very good at what it does...mainly combining auto parts and fresh produce and a million other things you might never expect to see in your neighborhood grocery store. I always buy something I shouldn't when I grocery shop, usually a book or magazine. Those I love to shop for.

A week ago I did my shopping on a Sunday evening which is unusual for me. My usual is Friday evening because "date night" in Saline County can be pretty interesting at the local Wal-Mart. Anyway, I was surprised at how long the lines were. I had too much time to peruse the last minute items and magazines, in the lane I was in and the surrounding lanes. And that's where I found a new magazine, Purpose Driven Connection. I bought the first issue, featuring Rick Warren front and center out of curiosity.

I did a little research to find out that the plan is to produce a quarterly magazine which is centered around the idea of community and there are multimedia resources to support it. This first issue came with a CD and Bible Study, 40 Days of Love, bound in. It's been an interesting read, not because I've learned anything new. Most of the material from Rick Warren is stuff that I've already read through the daily devotional. What is most interesting is the idea that the world is ready for a Christian magazine to be available at the checkout line. Is it? I'm not sure.

This is what Rick Warren says about it:
"There's a flat-out segment of Americans who are unashamed followers of Jesus Christ," Mr. Warren said. "We're not trying to make this a magazine for everybody."

Researching online, I found plenty of listings for the magazine. And it appears that the world is just about as ready for it as it has been for centuries which is to say not at all. The Rick Warren bashing in the comments by readers of the articles is pervasive, mainly on the themes of either money-grubbing or megalomania. And of course, Pastor Rick must have expected as much. I thought it strange that his letter stated so clearly that he makes no money from this magazine, but I understand better. And the megalomania...I was a little uncomfortable with Rick Warren as cover boy, but the inside pages have more to do with a collection of everyday people and other Christian bestsellers. And those bestsellers like Max Lucado and Lee Stroebel are bestsellers for a reason.

The magazine is only so-so to me. There are other Christian publications that I prefer...but they aren't there in the checkout newstand. I'm curious to see how this does.

UPDATE: I changed this a little because the attacks I read weren't in the articles but in comments left by readers. And Straight Talk...I completely agree with your comment. I hope the magazine does very well and I think if anyone can pull it off, it may just be Rick Warren. His book changed how I view life here and I hope the magazine can accomplish great things who can find it on the newstand at Wal-Mart.

52 Blessing Week 9: Darcy Dog

So I got a new photography toy and poor Darcy is my best model. She really is a blessing and she may actually turn up for more than one week because I take photos of her/afflict her when I have the chance. It's a burden that she bears. Usually, cheefully, but then sometimes, not so much. That's when the Milk Bones come in handy!

Romans 12:12 (NIV)

12Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.

52 Blessings Week 8: Reminders

Romans 10:17 (NIV)
Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.

I went to the best conference thing this weekend. The stated purpose was to find out more about mentoring, but the study is just really so very good. I mean it. When I got the book on Thursday, I started the homework assignment and I was reminded how simple faith really is. I need that reminder. It's so easy for me to get caught up in thinking too much, to worry that I don't have all the answers so I can't really speak to anyone about what I believe, to fear the future, to regret the past, to falter and lose focus. And that's just where the "tripper" wants me to be, hampered, confused, and afraid. Having faith doesn't mean having no doubts. Having faith is about a choice.

We've been challenged to find someone else to go through the book with us, a short five-week study, so if anyone wants to do this with me, let's talk. As I went through this, I remembered the feelings I experienced as I read The Purpose Driven life for the first time. Simple truth that is life-changing at the same time, that's the faith I have. And the PDL Daily Devotional today is about just this subject, Start with the Faith You Have. This choice that we all have to believe the Bible is true and live that way is simple and life-changing.

52 Blessings Week 7: Facebook

Yeah, I'd never have guessed it either, but Facebook has turned out to be one of those things that I get talked into that I really enjoy (I believe I have Mundane Jane to thank for that. She gets me into most of these internets obsessions). I've been on Facebook for a while now, but really didn't spend/waste much time there, but now it's moved right up the list of things I have to check. Why? Because now I know some faithful Facebook friends, people who post and comment and write on your wall and send you flair. And it's almost instant. And you can chat with any friend who happens to be online, whether that's a friend from across the street or around the world and whether you talked to them last at lunch or 1991.

Yesterday was my birthday and it was fun to get so many wishes on Facebook. I'm surrounded by great friends now and my family never forgets, so the Facebook friends are an added bonus.
Of course, I understand it's not all happiness and light. There is my looming word game addiction to worry about, but I'll think about that some other time.

(And this is a not-so-secret ploy to add to my Facebook friends. If you'd like to be my virtual friend, look for me! Seriously. And if you can't find me, comment here and I'll find you! Seriously! I'm all about adding the Facebook friends.)

Just thinking of you today...

So, I have another favorite message. In addition to "I saw this and thought of you", I'm also loving "Just thinking about you. Have a happy day." I got these flowers today, unexpectedly, from my brother. How sweet is that? So in addition to being an unexpected gift, which we know I love, I also got flowers! I love flowers. Well, not the actual planting them in the ground and weeding and watering and stuff like that. If they need all that from me, they're going to die. It's a harsh fact of life, but fact nevertheless.

So here's another lesson I need to learn from that...other people need to know I'm just thinking about them and that I want them to have a happy day. I've been on a sort of (internal) rampage lately, briefly interrupted by my conviction delivered via email yesterday in words I wrote myself. Being reminded that someone loves me and wants me to have a happy day helps. It really does.