Liquid Stoopid

Recently, I had the privilege of roasting one of my favorite people. He is retiring from Young Life, which doesn’t seem possible as he is younger than me – that is, unless you have been on Young Life staff, which I have, and then you know it is possible.

Young Life has a way of making you both young and old at the same time. It’s one of those paradoxes. Like how I was so happy and sad for my friend’s retirement.

Well, let me tell you, it was very easy to roast my friend. His antics are legendary and his quirks abundant. Once, having lost a bet on his favorite college basketball team, he threw back a shot of hot sauce called Liquid Stoopid. One trip to the emergency room later, he survived to tell the tale. His line: “It came out hotter the other end.”

But what stood out to me was what eventually became the theme of the night. My friend’s honesty. His openness with his junk. His vulnerability about his struggles. One after another, guys, mostly guys, but guys and gals stood up and shared how my friend and his wife had lived exposed lives.

I love the NIV translation of Ephesians 5:13. “But everything exposed by the light becomes visible – and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.”

My friend had let God expose his dark places. As a result, God had made his dark places light. That is what God does. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Why? Because darkness cannot overcome it. Light always wins.  

Open honesty is my friend’s legacy. At one point, I thought it was his lunacy. But with patience and over time, he has shown me by example the healing that can happen when we live exposed lives…

Space

Space

I was disappointed with God. After a week of 

hard paddling, we had planned to give the boys 

a light last day so they could spend the afternoon 

in solitude with God before heading to life back 

home.

It had been a great week. Lots of deep talks. 

Vulnerable moments. God moments. But I 

wanted to give God one more chance – one 

more opportunity to speak into these guys’ lives.

Turned out it was God who didn’t give us a 

chance. Over night the wind had shifted. What 

on paper should have been an easy paddle to 

Bear Creek, all of the sudden became one bear 

of a paddle. The guys did great, though. We 

pushed through morning, through afternoon 

and into evening. We had just enough time to 

unpack and change into some dry clothes before 

eating dinner.

Most of the guys shrugged off changing and fell 

to sleep. So much for my grand idea that God 

might want to actually speak to them…

Several months ago I read this passage from a 

short essay entitled “Moving from Solitude into 

Community Ministry” be Henri Nouwen. He writes 

this:

The word discipleship and the word discipline are 

the same word -- that has always fascinated me. 

Once you have made the choice to say, "Yes, I 

want to follow Jesus," the question is, "What 

disciplines will help me remain faithful to that 

choice?" If we want to be disciples of Jesus, we 

have to live a disciplined life.

By discipline, I do not mean control. If I know the 

discipline of psychology or of economics, I have a 

certain control over a body of knowledge. If I 

discipline my children, I want to have a little control 

over them.

But in the spiritual life, the word discipline means 

"the effort to create some space in which God can 

act." Discipline means to prevent everything in your 

life from being filled up. Discipline means that 

somewhere you're not occupied, and certainly not 

preoccupied. In the spiritual life, discipline means to 

create that space in which something can happen 

that you hadn't planned or counted on.

It’s convicting to me to think about how I “craft” my 

quiet times, how the most “space” I give God during 

a worship service is during “silent confession” when 

the twenty seconds feel like eternity, how I “plan” 

how God is going to meet those I minister to – how 

I “plan” how God is supposed to meet me.

Nouwen’s charge “to create space in which something 

can happen that you hadn’t planned or counted on” 

for me has been revolutionary.

What if I gave God space each day?

What might he do?

…I walked down the beach, not far. It was fifteen 

minutes to dinner, and I was going to have to wake 

up the guys. But I got far enough that it was just me, 

the water, and God if he was listening.

I said, “All right God, if you have something to say to 

me, you’ve got like fifteen minutes to say it.”

Wouldn’t you believe he spoke!

It was as if all he needed was the invitation…like he 

had been waiting for it all this time…

I took out my journal and tried to keep up as tears 

welled in my eyes.

What he said was so personal it’s unnecessary to 

tell you here. Perhaps another time. But what I do 

want to tell you is that God just might be waiting for 

his chance to get through to you.

So what do you say? Will you give God some space? 

One morning, will you lay aside the devotional, maybe 

even your Bible, and carve out some space just for 

God?

Squeakers

We had been planning to get chickens. It wasn’t my idea. But I’d been outvoted 3-1, and I had used up my veto on getting hamsters. So we were getting chickens instead.

I wasn’t jazzed about the chickens either. But at least they would live outside. So we made a place for them. We got a heat lamp, food, a coop. I even read a book. We were going away for Spring Break, so we decided to wait until we got back to get them. Just so happened that Spring Break coincided with the week running up to Easter this year. So Saturday, the day between death and resurrection, we drove over to Tractor Supply to pick up out future egg layers.

I videoed the moment, interviewing the kids about their official entrée into farm life. We huddled up, did the Erickson Team cheer and headed inside.

No chickens.

No chickens!?@#$%! I told the kids not to worry. I pulled up the second closest Tractor Supply on my phone. 30 minutes later we went inside. No chickens. More !?!@#$%#@! I went online. Sold out. All up and down the east coast. Sold Out.

The kids were crying. Who knew that chicks were THIS popular? Thanks a lot Easter. I slumped down on a back of pine chips. Lia was buying supplies for the chickens we didn’t have.

We walked to the car. Tears were still running down the kids’ faces. “Well, have you tried Florida, Daddy?” asked Anna Rose.

“No. I have not tried Florida,” I said.

“Try Florida, Daddy,” said David.

“Guys.” I stopped before I said something I would later regret – then I said something I later regretted. “Hop in the car. We’re getting hamsters.”

30 minutes later we pulled up to Pet Supermarket. 20 minutes later we came out with Gumball and Flufferballs. Yes, Flufferballs. David named him.

We also came out with food, chew toys, two hamster balls, and cages. I didn’t ask how much it cost. I didn’t want to know.

We also didn’t know that the slots on the cages were too wide. Hamsters were on the loose night one. We found Gumball underneath Anna Rose’s bed. Flufferballs we found in our dog’s mouth. Fortunately, he had not been chewed very much. Henceforth, Flufferballs has had no interest in escaping. Unfortunately, Gumball did. He was gone night three.

Lia bought a replacement. A girl. I still have no idea what she was thinking.

Anna Rose named her Squeakers. We found Gumball an hour later. We now had three hamsters.

So much for veto power.

(We now also have six chickens – David, Richard, Freckles, Drumstick, Bojangles, and the Mighty Mighty Egg Layer, Mel for short)

Squeakers soon became Anna Rose’s favorite. She had this sweet demeanor. She didn’t mind being carried. She had a high threshold for kids and their excited little tuggy, squeezy, enthusiastic fingers. She even went on vacation with us, surviving our two children’s and three others’ constant “devotion.”

It was really quite impressive.

Well, two days later we had yet another guest over, and the cage didn’t quite get closed right, and Squeakers decided to go on vacation. More like a staycation. As far as we could tell she hadn’t left our house. We found a few droppings here and there. But no Squeakers. We looked everywhere. It was hopeless.

One night, during pillow talk (Anna Rose and I have pillow talk a few times a week), Anna Rose started to cry. God, to her, was against her. “First, Thumper” (Quickly about Thumper. Up in the mountains, Anna Rose rescued a baby bunny from our dogs (our dogs are not as vicious as they are sounding in this story), but sadly Thumper didn’t pull through. It was the first death Anna Rose had ever watched happen. It wasn’t easy. I didn’t know how hard Anna Rose took it. I didn’t know she had prayed for God to raise Thumper from the dead. She trusted and believed so deeply that she actually forced us to keep Thumper two days before burying. Shehad placed all her hope in God answering her prayers. God didn’t). “Now, Squeakers,” she cried. “God must hate me. He doesn’t care. I don’t even know if he’s real.”

“Of course he’s real, Anna Rose.” But I wasn’t sure how to prove it in a way that eight year old Anna Rose would accept it.

“Then, why does he not answer my prayers?”

“Well, he doesn’t have to. He’s God.”

“Well, if he loved me, he would answer.”

I really didn’t know what to say.

“Do you want me to pray we find Squeakers?” I asked.

“I don’t care. Prayer doesn’t work,” said Anna Rose.

“Well, I’m going to pray anyway,” I said.

That night, I spent two hours looking for that stinking hamster.

Three days went by.

A friend came to visit for a few days. The first morning, she came upstairs and asked us if we had a mouse problem.

No we said, but we did have a hamster one.

I saw her that night.

I had gotten home late from a meeting. I was dead tired, but I heard water running in the basement. So I went downstairs, thinking our guest bathroom toilet needed jiggling. Turns out, our friend was in the shower.

I turned around to go back upstairs when there our other friend was. Squeakers. I leapt at her.

The thing had gone wild. In captivity she had loved her wheel. And she was using all those miles she logged to her benefit. Man, was she fast. I chased her, cornered her. She escaped. I cornered her again. I was not letting her out of my sight. My daughter’s faith was on the line.

She escaped and went under the door into the bathroom where our friend was showering. Darn it!

I waited till the water stopped and warned her that I was outside and that Squeakers was inside. She squealed before I finished my sentence. “Catch it!” I said.

To her credit, she tried. But clever old Squeakers had found a tiny crack in the bottom of our cabinet, you know, the few inches between the bottom of the cabinet and the floor, the part that is impossible to get to. That’s where Squeakers was.

I put her cage by the crack and filled her food tray, hoping she’d gorge herself and fall asleep in the fluff.

Next morning, all her food was gone. So was Squeakers.

Anna Rose was a mess.

I tried cheering her up. “Well, at least we know she is ok.”

“She won’t be forever.”

“Well, God at least answered our prayer. We found Squeakers.”

Anna Rose frowned, “If God is really God then he would have understood what we meant.”

My heart broke for her. She was right. If God was God then he would understand. I couldn’t think of anything else to say except to tell her to go to bed. I’d stay downstairs that night and hope for another Squeakers sighting.

Anna Rose vanished upstairs.

I prayed. “Come on Jesus. I need a miracle. My daughter’s faith is on the line here.”

Twenty-five minutes later, at 8:39pm, Squeaker’s wheel squeaked. She always did love that wheel. I crept in the bathroom. Squeakers saw me. She dashed to the open door. She wasn’t fast enough. I slammed it shut. Squeakers was inside, so skinny she could once again slip through the bars. We’d find her a more suitable home in a minute.

First things were first. I woke up Anna Rose and put the cage on her bed. Anna Rose opened the cage and took Squeakers in her hands. I let her. I was a little nervous. But I let her.

We carried the cage and Squeakers to the bathroom where we had been keeping her before her staycation. We made a new home for Squeakers in a huge plastic bin.

We put Squeakers to bed.

Anna Rose looked at me through the mirror. “You were right, Dad. God is real,” she said half to me, half to herself.

It was a great moment.

Anna Rose went right to bed, a smile on her lips. I turned out the light and shut the door quietly behind me and whispered to the heavens, “Thank you.”

Mission Emanuel - Part 3 - Parenting

So Lia and I have been dreaming about one day taking our children on a mission trip. Well, at Mission Emanuel, that dream became reality. And as often happens with dreams, reality wasn't exactly what we imagined it to be. 

We weren't the only gluttons for punishment. Our sweet friends the Robinsons brought their two children, and our stellar friends the Geers brought their four! It certainly made things easier having other families to share the load…and commiserate. 

All in all, it was a great decision. There were moments like this one below.

To hear my daughter say that her favorite part of the trip was meeting Dariel makes it all worthwhile. Because that's the dream - to make connections and build relationships. And truth be told these kids were WAY better at it than us adults. 

Alejandro, our sponsor child, was grumpy, having been awoken from a nap. He was hiding behind his father's legs until Anna Rose pulled out the bubbles...

which brought on an Alejandro sized smile…

Next thing, Alejandro is joining in the fun. 

And we're having this total family moment with Alejandro's family. Because being a father and wanting so much for your son is universal as is being a mother and wanting your son to have a shirt on for the picture...

Like Noah Geer taught me…Noah is Andy and Lora's youngest. He's the same age as David. He was fighting with another boy his age over a ball. Andy for a moment wanted to step in. Noah didn't understand. This boy had nothing. Noah could have a hundred balls if he wanted. But Andy stopped himself. He let them tangle. Because all of a sudden and in a moment Andy saw what all the books and classes and lectures that he has read, attended and heard about cross-cultural ministry failed to teach him. Noah didn't see someone different than himself. He saw a boy just like him. In the tangle, Noah and this Dominican were acknowledging their common humanity. It was dignifying, affirming. It was the incarnation. 

Thanks Noah.

Mission Emanuel Part 2 - Loud Mouth

So my big moment happened pretty early in the trip. Within 15 hours of arriving, I was preaching in front of a church who only understood Spanish. Fortunately, I had Pedro, an excellent translator, who is known for "helping out" pastors by putting his own spin on their remarks. 

This was a comfort to me on many levels. I had never preached before like this, and it was nice to know Pedro would give them a good sermon whether I gave one or not. 

As it turned out, Pedro gave me quite the compliment. Pulling me aside afterwards, he said, "I used your words." He meant it as a compliment I think. Like, normally he didn't

Later that week, Pedro told me that he had been taking credit for my sermon. A compliment, I think. He asked for a copy of my notes. 

Monday, I again had the chance to get in front of a whole lot of Dominicans. This time, in costume and in character. I was El Guapo, which according to the movie The Three Amigos means "the handsome." Unfortunately, in the Dominican Republic "el guapo" means "the bully." No wonder all the kids tried to fight me…

Somehow I managed to survive the culture clash and facilitate some good times. 

It helped that I look (and I am) harmless.

Our stage was the base of a hill occupied by pigs. 

Only once did they disrupt (to the delight of the crowd).

We had a blast, and the whole team delivered. 

A special shout out to the Orlandons…Also to Ginny Evans for her amazing crafts…

and for master teacher Jim Weiss. 

Also for all of our translators: Dorca, Carolina, Emmanuel, and of course Pedro.

Mission Emanuel Top 11 photos

11. The Family Photo

Notice my neck sweat necklace, my cement cheeks. Notice how clean Lia is. That's the difference between my week and Lia's week in the clinic.

10. The World's Longest Wheelchair Ramp

We were wheeling 26 chairs for 26 kids. There was only one way to do it. 

9. Francisco

There will be more about this day at the Lepersorium in later entries. But Francisco and I we laughed and cried I don't even know why, we just did.

8. Lia being asked to be a godmother

I love watching Lia in action She was truly in her element all week with these little babes. 

7. Dave Dave

Making friends

Living large

Taking after his old man

Fearless with Lepers

6. A-Ro

Making babies smile

Speaking the universal language of bubbles. More on that.

Making friends.

More friends.

Especially Dariel

5. Quita Sueno

Bringing hope to the village they call broken dreams.

So cute!

4. Gabriel

Here is the little guy with the cleft lip we helped fix last fall. Looking good Gabriel!

3. Riding Three

The babe was smiling just before I snapped this timeless photo.

2. The Matriarch

The matriarch of Quita Sueno (82 years young) wasn't ready for me to smack one on her, but she handled it with grace and style. 

1. Alejandro

The first smile from our sponsor child. A magical moment. 

Stay tuned. More to come!!!!

YOUNG LIFE PALOOZA

This is going to be AMAZING!!!! Sunday April 19 Rain or Shine!!!!!!

Music, Food, Games! And the Socratic Method!

Yes, our band has dusted off our six strings. We are going to play some of the most face peeling music you have ever heard!

Young Life Palooza Information and Tickets

SPRINTER

We pushed our annual Winter Trip into March so we called it a Sprinter Retreat instead.

Thank you leaders, chefs, and kids for helping make this a memory-making weekend like none other.

Men, thanks for playing the longest game of Freeze Out Ice Box EVER. Shirtless! Then, Kevin, thanks for the brilliant idea of putting on the mattresses on the floor, so we could make a bed that could sleep all twenty of us!



And thanks all for going on that crazy rainbow hike that was so slippery I thought we were all going to die, though since I was in charge I had to pretend it was like the safest thing ever…




And thanks for the laughter! The late night rapping. The spontaneous games. The random soccer match! The worship.

What a weekend to be present.

Remember, Jesus refuses to meet us where we think we should be, or where we wish we were; instead, he insists to meet us where we are.

Harvey Cedars

Wow! What a weekend we had up at Harvey Cedars with new and old friends from Media Presbyterian Church. It was the first weekend retreat I have led where my parents were able to attend. Whenever I needed a pick me up I just needed to take a look at my mother who was beaming.

I want to introduce you to a great blogger, http://andria-livingstones.blogspot.com

She did an amazing job recording some of the themes from the weekend. Here's one that really speaks to me as I write here on my laptop on the eve of Easter:

In addition to shedding a new light on this particular gospel account, Ned also provided a new way of considering the Sabbath rest.

Many people trace the practice of resting on the Sabbath to God’s act of creation, as recorded in the Book of Genesis.  God created the heavens and the earth and everything in them in six days, and on the seventh day he rested because there was nothing left for Him to do.  His work was finished. 

Where do we hear the echo of these words?  From the cross, Jesus said, “It is finished,” at the time of his death, because he had done everything that needed to be done in order for us to enter into the Promised Land.  With his death, the payment of the penalty for our sins, Jesus made a way for us. Jesus IS the way for us!

Since, then, a Sabbath is a rest, a time when our work is done, Christ has created a Sabbath-rest for us that lasts seven days a week, 52 weeks a year.  We are called to rest from the work of trying to save ourselves, because Christ has finished the work for us. 

Thanks Andria! Here's a few of my favorite pics...