"No Thru Traffic" and the shortness of life.

I try to walk three to four times a week, partly to keep active and healthy, and partly to keep strengthening my knee after this past summer’s surgery. When I don’t walk with Traci, I often spend my time memorizing verses, praying or just thinking through the challenges and opportunities we’re currently facing. It seems like several blogs have emerged as a result of my walks.

On my walk this morning I decided to take a detour through our local cemetery. I chuckled (darkly) as I entered thru the main gate due to the sign that read, “No Thru Traffic.” Indeed, the traffic headed to the cemetery is generally not headed out. And that’s when my stroll turned somber, as I snapped a few pictures, read a few names and tombstones and was reminded of the reality that life is short.

Each tombstone in the cemetery represents a life, a story of someone who lived on this earth and engaged others. With their last names listed boldly for others to see, I began to wonder what these people had been like during their living years. Jackson, Walter, Titus, Campbell, Winter Thornburg, Hansen, Olsen, Eherhardt, Sherwood, White, Kies, Brown...on and on the names emerged from gravesite after gravesite. Some were adorned with freshly cut flowers, others hadn’t been visited in years.

There is something very sobering about a cemetery and the certainty of death. Two years ago I wrote a series of blogs about being at the statistical half-way point of life. Now, as days turn into weeks, and as years roll by, the reality is that one day I too will be in a vehicle that will pass thru the iron gate baring the sign, “No Thru Traffic” and some other walker or jogger will pass by my tombstone and wonder what I was like, and be curious about the kind of life I had lived.

Living the Overboard Life isn’t about fame, fortune, prosperity or comfort. Instead, the Overboard Life is a commitment to follow the Lord, whenever He calls, into any situation He has prepared for us. It’s about living life out of the overflow of God’s abundance, touching the heart of others with the life changing message of a relationship with God and living according to the design with which He has created in everyone of us.

Thanks to Jesus, I don’t fear death, but I fear living a small life because I let fear, anxiety and hardship define me more than the truth of who God made me to be. I fear that one day someone will see my headstone, and if they explored my story they would discover a man who let the worries and stress of this life block out the big picture that “could have been” had he grabbed the hand of His creator and lived out Ephesians 3:20: “God can do anything you know, far more than you can ever imagine, guess or request in your wildest dreams!”

I left the cemetery today (thankfully!) oddly encouraged to keep pursuing the Overboard Life. Right now life seems hard but only when I lose sight of the one whom I follow. When I keep focused on Him, I can grab the sides of the boat, jump out on the water and live the remarkable life to which I have been called.

What about you? Are you going through the motions? Are you defining yourself by the past or letting fear and anxiety cripple your future? Find real freedom by focusing yourself on the one who calls you out of the boat, and out on the water where He is doing His Kingdom work. That life will leave an extraordinary mark behind a tombstone some jogger will find on a quiet fall day, on a detour through the cemetery.

Go ahead and take the plunge, life is always better on the water!

The day I thought Jesus was a Mack truck

Have you ever had one of those moments where you were pretty sure you were about to walk into the light and see God? A moment when you were about to find out what’s on the other side of the curtain of this life? In the winter of 1995, I had one of those moments while driving my beloved, blue, 1985 Toyota pick-up on a snowy day in Des Moines, Iowa. I was driving from Ankeny, IA to West Des Moines (usually about a 30-minute commute) to log some hours at a regional credit center for Sears, when I thought for sure I was going to meet Jesus. It happened so fast.

The whole drive had truly been a white-knuckle experience, as the roads were in horrendous condition. Prior to living in Iowa, my winter driving experience didn’t involve much snow or ice. So every time I took to the roads when it was snowy and icy, I always felt the tension of driving in lousy conditions. On this particular day, after watching several cars spin out on the highway, I was especially cautious and a bit high strung.

Then, after nearly an hour of being on the road, the conditions seemed to improve almost miraculously, and I was within a half-mile of my exit. I relaxed a little, for the first time in an hour. That’s when the moment where I questioned my future existence came into play.

My little truck traveled under an overpass where the snow and ice hadn’t melted as much as on other parts of the road. The back end of the truck, not having much weight, slid out to the side and suddenly I found my car moving the right direction, but facing perpendicular with the road. Problem was, this put the driver’s side of the vehicle right in the way of oncoming traffic. I tried to hit the gas, hit the brakes, and scream like a girl but none of it helped me right the truck. I continued to slide in the correct direction of the rest of traffic, while still facing 90 degrees in the wrong direction!

I looked out my driver's side window straight into oncoming traffic and that’s when I saw “it” -- the light. Actually, it was two lights. I was sure I was about to meet Jesus as I saw two bright lights coming straight at me. I was surprised that Jesus’ name was “Mack” but I wasn’t asking many questions at that point, since I knew I was about to see St. Peter at the pearly gate.

The next thing I remember is snapping back to this reality, and somehow the semi that had been coming straight at me was able to steer around me; the driver managed to jerk his rig around the front of my truck (which was still facing 90 degrees in the wrong direction!). At the same time I looked up in the rear-view mirror and saw several cars driving behind me by swerving onto the shoulder. Then boom! My wheels caught some dry ground and my truck shot straight for the concrete median the separated the two directions of traffic. Unbelievably I didn’t roll the truck but now I was destined to drive full speed into a concrete barrier.

At that point I did what any young, inexperienced driver would do: I screamed and slammed on the brakes! As the snow settled I started breathing again and realized I wasn’t at the pearly gates, and contrary to Kevin Costner’s assertions, I was still in Iowa, not in heaven. (Any sports movie geeks out there?) I had somehow managed to avoid being crushed by a semi, had only nicked one other car while doing a perfectly good driving stunt, and when I got out of my truck I realized I hadn’t hit the concrete barrier. I kid-you-not...I couldn’t put a credit card between my bumper and the concrete median, but I hadn’t made contact.

Friends, that’s what I call great driving.

Looking back at that moment in history, I know that it was a real possibility that I could have left this life and entered the next. I also know it wasn’t superb driving that saved my life, but it was definitely a moment in time when God intervened. I remember when I was finally able to cross the interstate, get to my exit and park my truck at work. The adrenaline surge left me and I started shaking because I knew how close I had come to death.

Most people have stories of when they were confronted with the possibility of death. Growing up, one of my pastors preached a message on “The Frailty of Man” -- and most of us have experienced just how frail this life can be! It’s terrifying when you look back and realize that things could have turned out differently for you (or someone you love), that life could have (should have?) ended for you, but something, someone, intervened to keep you alive.

The Overboard Life is ultimately about living this life to its fullest potential, taking advantage of the days God has given us. While we don’t know whether life will end tragically in the blink of an eye, or over time as we slowly fade away, we do know that this life will end. Every one of us is destined to face the termination of existence and in that moment, we will each meet our Maker.

This makes me want to keep two truths in mind. First, having a personal relationship with God is the most important step of faith any of us can ever take. Believing that God’s Son sacrificed Himself for our crimes, for our sins, and accepting His death as a holy payment on our behalf is fundamental to living the Overboard Life. You can’t live a life that pleases God, if you don’t first know Him personally. And you can only know Him personally if you’ll take the first, and most important, step of faith: trusting Him with your eternal destiny.

Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection is the basis for the second truth. Having a personal relationship with God frees me to live the Overboard Life of faith so I can live fully in the person God created me to be, doing what God created me to do. When I finally “walk toward the light” and meet my Maker, it will be a glorious experience because, as His child I’ll be returning home, and as His servant, I will have lived life to the fullest.

I hope you know God personally. If not, you can remedy that today, right now, simply by choosing to accept in faith, that Jesus died to pay the price for your sins -- a price you could never pay -- when he died on the cross and rose again three days later. In doing this you acknowledge that you have broken God’s holy law (Romans 3:23) and that only God’s sacrifice is sufficient to settle your debt (John 3:16).

I also hope you are living a life that pleases Him. If not, you can remedy that today, too! The same faith that draws us into a personal relationship with God, also sets us free to live a purposeful life that pleases Him. The Overboard Life is lived, in faith, every day, as we commit our moment to following the Lord. It’s not glamorous. It’s certainly not easy, but it is very simple: keep becoming who God wants you to be, so that you can do what God created you to do.

Go ahead and take the plunge, life is always better on the water!

What are you dying for?

I’m a closet fan of extreme sports. I find myself drawn to the high-flying, danger-flaunting, I-can-do-better-than-you mentality of extreme sports athletes. I love their flair for the dramatic, and when someone truly rises above the rest of the competition, it is a thing of beauty and amazement to see -- something that showcases the incredible capacity of the human body to push boundaries further than anyone thought reasonable. I have a subscription to a magazine that frequently showcases extreme sport athletes. Unfortunately though, over the past year of issues, there have been several deaths of men prominent in their particular sport. While most extreme sport's injuries involve broken bones, potential hospital visits and a few extra scars to be proudly worn by their owner, death is always looming in the shadows of the adrenaline-driven sports. And it’s this flirting with death that is part of what makes any extreme sport so captivating; and so tragic when things go wrong.

In two particular stories, I was caught by a line spoken by the spouses of the deceased husbands. Both men died gruesome deaths. One passed away instantly after falling from a significant height, and the other died following hours of suffering after being crushed by an object weighing more than a thousand pounds. What did both these wives say about their husbands’ deaths? “I’m just so glad he died doing what he loved.”

I can’t imagine the intense pain and loss these two ladies felt. Both of them had been married to their spouses for several years, and one of them had two small children that would now grow up without their father. Each man was very well respected in his sport, and their deaths were mourned by many. And often repeated by others in the sport was the same line: “He died doing what he loved.”

As I’ve reflected on that idea, I’ve come to a little conflict of heart. On the one hand, who doesn’t want to die in a blaze of glory doing what they love? On the other, what if what you love isn’t worth dying for? No, I’m not casting any judgment on what I believe to be the perceived value or non-value of extreme sports. What I am doing, however, is asking myself the question: If I died doing what I loved, would that love be worth dying for?

When I had been a youth pastor for just a couple of years, I got one of those calls you never want to receive. A young man in our community had been involved in a tragic accident and his life was hanging by a thread in one of Seattle’s premiere trauma wards. After a night of partying, he was too drunk to drive, so another friend who was “less drunk,” had been designated as the driver. Half-way from the party to home, their car crossed the center line and hit an oncoming vehicle head-on. Unbuckled and passed out in the back seat, this teenage boy suffered life-threatening injuries.

I made several visits to the hospital to spend time with him and his family. On more than one afternoon I was alone with him in his ICU medical room, talking to him and praying to God for his healing. I often read Scripture passages to him and frequently shared God’s love not knowing if he could hear me ore not. The family and I spent time together, sharing meals and getting to know each other (prior to this event, I had not had any contact with this family).

After weeks of surgeries and waiting, it became apparent he was not going to survive. So after painful consideration, his parents took him off of life support and prepared for his death. His body fought hard for a little while, but a few days later, he passed away. The funeral was attended by over 500 people from his school and community. Some kind words were spoken about him, funny stories were shared, and many tears were shed as the grieving process unfolded.

Afterward, the family hosted a closed reception for a smaller segment of mourners. They had rented a nearby gymnasium and around one hundred friends and family members gathered together to eat, cry and -- it feels absurd to even write it -- to party.

One of this boy’s family members gave a speech that has a familiar ring to it. I don’t remember the exact words, but the gist was something like this: “[he] lived life to the fullest, and on the last night he was truly with us, he was doing what he loved most -- partying with friends. So that’s how we’re going to honor him today, we’re going to party together!” Then, acting as though his death had not been alcohol related, they busted out a cooler of beer while the DJ kicked up some tunes and the dancing began.

If you had to die doing what you loved, would that activity you loved be worthy of your death? Would you want to die playing your favorite sport? Would partying with friends be the way you’d want to go?

Of course, we generally don’t get to pick the way we go, but these stories get me thinking about the life -- and death -- I want to have. I don’t want to die in a way that dishonors my Lord, shames my wife or embarrasses my family. I hope that whatever I’m doing fits into Colossians 3:17 where Paul says, “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.” That means that my entertainment, my sports activities, my dates with Traci, the sermons I preach, the fun I have with my kids, the way I spend my money, the blogs I take the time to write and anything else I do has to fit through a super refined lens. Ultimately, every activity of my life has to answer this one question: does this event bring honor to God?

If I can answer that question with a resounding, “Yes!” then I know I won’t mind doing that particular activity when it’s my turn to answer death’s call.

What about you? Do the things you love bring honor to God? At the end of the day, I want to be a guy who dies doing what he loves, as long as what I love is worth dying for. And for me, if my life fits the criteria of Colossians 3:17, then I know I’m ready to go at any time. This is certain: anyone living the Overboard Life is, without a doubt, living out Colossians 3:17 (remember...process, not perfection!). Are you ready?

Go ahead and take the plunge, life is always better on the water!

Thoughts about the tragic death of Robin Williams

Last Monday I was enjoying the great city of Seattle, Washington, watching Felix Hernandez take care of the Toronto Blue Jays in classic Felix fashion. He was as dominant as always, and I was pumping my fist as the Mariners put up seven runs in the sixth inning when I heard the news: actor/comedian Robin Williams had tragically chosen to take his own life. That news certainly dulled the moment, and then later when I had a chance to watch a little news and read a couple of headlines, the facts of his death underscored the tragedy of the moment. The comedian who could make anyone laugh, famous for his many Hollywood starring roles and off-color standup comedy, struggled to find lasting happiness in his own life. News stories emerged detailing his history of substance abuse and addiction, as well as a fairly constant struggle with depression.

On Tuesday morning, Facebook and Twitter were ablaze with comments about Robin’s death. People were sharing their favorite Williams’ jokes and movies, posting memes of him from many of his famous movie characters and linking to Youtube videos of their favorite movie moments. A comedy icon had died and no one was laughing.

By Tuesday afternoon the blog world was buzzing with reflection on Robin’s death (apparently I’m a couple days behind!). Many people began sharing their identification with Williams’ struggle with depression while others just shared heartbreak over his passing and the tragic sense of hopelessness that must have filled his last days on earth. It seemed like few people had any kind of beef with Robin, as a comedian, humanitarian or actor.

I’ve spent the last few days reading blogs, new stories and Facebook posts about this event and have reflected a lot on the sadness of his death. In doing so, I’ve had four thoughts going through my head that I want to share with you. I would love your thoughts and input to develop these even further.

First, and maybe most importantly, Robin’s death reinforces the value of every life. As a pop-culture icon, Robin Williams taking his own life carries with it a tragedy of news-worthy proportion, but it represents a story that repeats itself 110 times every day in the U.S. While his death makes more news because of his international fame, it doesn’t mean that his life was more valuable than the 16-year-old who suffocated himself because of intense bullying, the 13-year-old cheerleader who overdosed because of a naked picture of her gone viral or the 42-year-old dad who shot himself because of a lost job and the shame of telling his wife that he’d been out of work for months. Every life is valuable.

I wish all people who feel so grieved about the loss of Robin’s life, felt the same grief about the loss of every life! Created uniquely by God, humans stand distinct in the universe as carrying the marks of Image Bearers of the Almighty (Genesis 1:26-27). According to Psalm 139, that means God was intimately and personally involved in the inside-out creation of every human being ever conceived. And that means no life is made more valuable because of what it does or doesn’t do, any more than the value of a life is diminished by what it accomplishes or fails to achieve.

To be human is to be valuable.

Secondly, the tragic death of a celebrity always reminds us that people are, at their core, just people. Celebrities are not the iconic figures they represent on the stage or big screen, they are simply gifted people (in most cases) in a particular aspect of pop-culture. Something has made them popular to a large segment of the world around them, but that doesn’t remove them from their fundamental identity as part of the human race. We may try to make them more than that, but all our efforts will fail in vain regardless of the fame or “bigger than life” status that person may achieve.

Being human means being broken and having needs. Celebrity status seems to create an impossible image of someone; an image that may come from our own perception of what the perfect “us” would be like. In other words, if we could finally arrive at the perfect person, it would be the celebrity singer, actor, model or athlete that we elevate to near god-like status. But that person doesn’t exist, instead, all persons face the same reality from a sin-soaked world -- we are a broken race. A casual glance at the world around us reveals the brokenness in which we all live: you, me and sadly Robin Williams, too.

To be human is to be broken.

Thirdly, every human being longs for deep and meaningful connection. In a day and age when connection is readily available, we seem hard-pressed for intimacy and transparency. I’m always amazed when I read the story of creation in Genesis 1-2, that after God created Adam, a perfect man in a perfect world engaging with a perfect God, that our God utters these words, “It is not good for man to be alone.” In fact, it almost seems sacrilegious to imply that being close to God isn’t enough to sustain us, but it's a fact that God created us for connection, not only with Him but with our fellow man as well. And not just as a good idea, but as a necessary and fundamental component of our existence!

Today I spent a little time surfing Facebook, and I was shocked to realize how many posts were made in an attempt to make some sort of significant connection. One young lady’s post was truly a cry for help, as she begged people to engage with her thoughts or ideas. A platform that allows for unfiltered personal expression is not the same things has having intimate connection. (And no, I’m not making any judgment on the various forms of social media, I’m simply stating that mass personal exposure doesn’t expressly translate into intimate personal connection.)

To be human is to be in need in intimate connection.

Finally, as the details of Robin’s suicide surface, we must be compelled to see the people around us with new eyes. I wonder how many people noticed something was off with Robin, but chose not to reach out, or assumed that he must be fine because he is the wildly loved and successful Robin Williams? How many people do we know, do we see, do we speak to and do we pass every day who are “fine on the outside” but screaming for help on the inside? How many people reading this blog wish someone would care enough to look them in the eyes and ask, “how are you doing?” and then actually stick around for the answer?

As I’m sitting here at the airport writing this, thousands of people are marching by en route to some appointment, somewhere. Some are probably heading out to meet family, others flying to a business appointment, while still others, like me, are just trying to make it back home. Despite walking shoulder to shoulder with scores of people and making eye contact with thousands of individuals while walking the concourses at the world’s busiest airport, how many of them feel as alone as if they were they were the only person in the terminal?

To be human is to be aware of the problem.

To be super-human, however, is to do something about the problem.

Lasting change happens when people have a personal encounter with the personal God, and often, that personal encounter happens when one of God’s people embraces the Overboard Life and reaches out to someone in need. No, I’m not suggesting that every problem we face is simply resolved as a spiritual matter. Yes, I am suggesting that a relationship with God is vital to long-term health and true healing that occurs from the inside, out.

Because we are a broken people, we must find healing from the One who experienced the reality of our brokenness, without personally being broken. Jesus Christ came to experientially understand our condition, by knowing hunger and pain, heartache and loss and even betrayal and anger (Hebrews 4-7). But in His experience, He never once sinned or violated God’s sacred Law. As a result, we have a compassionate God who sympathizes with us in every way, and longs to fill us with hope, love, grace, mercy and healing. That super-human filling frees us to reach out to others who need the same touch!

Will you be the one to reach out to someone desperate for help, someone who needs more than a smile and a casual “how are you doing?” Will you embrace the value of every life and ask God to help you reach out?

Go ahead and take the plunge, others are in desperate need of what you have to offer!

What would you do differently?

By Joe Castaneda This past year I’ve been working my way through Ken Burns’ amazing documentary called Baseball. Yes, it has a lot of baseball in it, but whether you like the sport or not, Burns does an absolutely phenomenal job of wrapping the American story through the game of baseball. The Great Bambino, Babe Ruth, flourished during...the roaring 20s! Jackie Robinson is famous because...he helped America break through the color barrier, starting with baseball. The civil unrest of the 60s and 70s echoed through a sport that still practiced horrible wage discrimination and a continued struggle to accept blacks as equal citizens. From the 1800s to the early 21st century, if you enjoy American history (and certainly if you enjoy baseball), do yourself a favor and dial up Burns' Baseball on Netflix.

As a baseball fan, one of the more interesting aspects of the series is how Ken weaves the births and deaths of famous players into their context. One of those stories begins in the late 1800s and ends in 1960s, and revolves around baseball’s greatest hitter, Ty Cobb. He died, on this date, in 1961.

Cobb was loved by fans, but lived his life with a deep seeded hatred for almost everyone. He played the game, and lived most of his life, full of fire and venom. He would spike opponents with his cleats when he slid into second, he cursed at umpires, argued and fought with fans and he was always yelling at his own teammates. A longtime member of the Detroit Tigers (he played his last two years in Philadelphia), Cobb epitomized the rough and tough nature of baseball and American culture in his day.

He was a fierce competitor. Today, most of his records have been passed, although still -- 100 years since he first began playing! -- he is in the top 5 in many offensive categories (2nd in runs scored, 2nd in hits, 4th in number of double, 4th in number of stolen bases). He was relentless at the plate, a pure hitter, and he strove to beat every pitcher he faced. He hated losing, almost as much as he hated missing the ball. His .366 lifetime batting average is still the highest in baseball history! In fact, it’s fairly safe to say no one will do what Cobb did: 23 consecutive season of hitting over .300 at the plate.

While most of us will never excel in baseball like Ty Cobb, all of us will face the same end: our lives will come to completion. On July 17th, 1961, the great Ty Cobb passed away. Less than 400 people attended his funeral (by contrast, Babe Ruth had hundreds of thousands of fans come to his viewing!), and only 3 of those 400 people had ever played with Cobb. None of his teammates or the other players of his day came to see him off.

In an interview right before his death, Cobb said this: “If I had life to do over again, I'd do it a little different. I’d have more friends.” He died by himself. He had divorced two different women, and lived alone with fear and anger. He drank profusely. He was miserable.

Death always makes us reflective. Cobb, reflecting on his life, realized that all his great athletic feats meant nothing at his death. He wasn’t surrounded by people he loved and who loved him, he was alone and a mess.

What will you and I reflect on at the end of our lives? What things are we doing today that we’ll be thankful for in the future? What behaviors, fights or activities will we regret?

I recently turned 40 and had some time to reflect on the “half-way” point of my life. (You can read that here.) I’ve come to realize that as I’ve aged, my life is becoming more and more focused on a few things, instead of spread out over many. I don’t want to come to the end of my life and wish I had lived it differently. Of course we all make mistakes, we all get on the wrong path, we all say things we wish we could take back and involve ourselves with things we wish we hadn’t. But at the end of it all, I want my life direction, my greatest moments and achievements to point to a life that loved God, loved others. I hope people will see that I spent more time on the water with Jesus, than in the comfort of the boat with those that lack the courage and conviction to step out.

What about you? Are there course corrections you need to make? Are you on a path that you already know will not take you where you want to be? Are you in a relationship that is hindering your commitment to the Lord? Do you need to reinvest in your marriage? Are your children eager for you to make them as valuable to you as your work? Are the important things in your life true priorities?

Live today with the end in view.

So go ahead and take the plunge, life is always better on the water!

Are you participating in your own life?

About seven or eight years ago, Traci and I were at a crossroads in our lives. The alphabets (AJ, BJ & CJ) had all been born and we were in the throes of parenting. We had taken on a boat load of debt due to several big medical expenses, the purchase of a family car, the total collapse of our sewer system (yes, that’s as fun as it sounds!) the loss of a furnace, and on and on. We were feeling the weight and pressure of debt, of raising small children and of trying to keep our marriage alive (not just together!).  

Traci had just finished up a third round of seminars hosted by Klemmer and Associates, and was starting to push through some of the junk in life that keeps us from growing and moving forward. As she has said in her own speaking and blogging, “I wasn’t even participating in my own life.” She had been struggling with depression brought on after child birth, and we were both struggling to just get through each day: it’s like survival was all we were after.

After Traci’s most recent seminar, we began to talk more about the future and our dreams, and both of us were becoming convinced that just surviving life wasn’t enough. My job at the church was going well, but it had become a bit stagnant; the new systems and calendar I had put in place were the new “norm” and I been taking it easy in cruise control.

That’s when it happened.

One of the elders in my church, Kent Kersey, came to me after services on Sunday and asked if I had read Donald Miller’s book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years? I was not a Donald Miller fan, which he knew, and I politely declined. He told me that it was a great book and that I really should consider reading it. In fact, he gave me a copy and said I needed to take it with me to the camp I was speaking at the next week.

I thanked him for the book, and since Kent is one of the best thinkers I know, I believed what he said about the book. I packed it away for our trip to Northern California to speak at a summer camp just outside Eureka and figured I’d at least start reading it when we got there.

On Monday morning I picked up the book and by Tuesday afternoon I had finished it. I

handed it to Traci and she read it by Thursday and then I read it again before we left on Saturday. I’ve read it a couple of times since then. Essentially, Donald Miller used this book to explain that he had been a spectator to his own life. When Christian artist/producer/singer/director Steve Taylor approached Don about making a movie of Don’s life, Miller realized he didn’t have much of a life. He had written a lot about life, he had challenged people to live a better life, but he himself was sitting an armchair, watching others live and writing about it.

Through this process of recognizing his lack of living, Don embarked on a journey to have a life worth reading about; to make a life that would be worthy of a movie. A Million Miles in a Thousand Years tells about Don’t journey from armchair critic to active participant in life.

And it struck a nerve with me and with Traci. We were at our own crossroads, trying to figure out how to make our marriage, and our parenting and our ministry and our business(es) be more about just surviving. We didn’t want to wake up each day just trying to survive, just trying to make it to the end of the day so we could sleep, wake and repeat. We wanted a life worth sharing or writing about, we wanted to have a marriage that would shine as an example for other couples struggling like us and we wanted to live for something so much bigger than ourselves.

When we got back from the camp, we were full of ideas, and slowly we began to implement them. I set up my first blog and began some semi-regular writing. Traci and I started dreaming about some service projects that our whole family could be a part of and then began to move forward, together. Traci continued her personal growth seminars, I started being coached and began reading other books that would help lay a path for our dreams.

Suddenly, it was as if we were back in the thrill of experiencing life again; we were participating in our own lives! Don’t get me wrong, our daily existence and routine didn’t instantly become easy. The path wasn’t laid with gold bricks, the skies weren’t always blue and the sun did not always shine. Instead, we began to realize that we didn’t need gold paths, blue skies and sunshine in order to experience the richness of life. Traci and I began to choose to fully embrace our lives regardless of our circumstances. We decided that life is a God-given adventure, and sitting on the sidelines to watch it pass by was no longer an option.

During that season, the words of John 10:10 became very real to me: Jesus said, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” The Message translates it this way: “A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.” Does that sound like the description of a life you’d want to stand by and watch? Of course not, that’s the kind of life all of us want to live -- we want to be a part of a life like that!

Are you watching your own life pass by? Are you caught up in just trying to survive each day, hoping to fall asleep at the end of it and wake up and repeat in the morning? I’ve been there, and I can tell you that there’s something better than just surviving! I can’t promise you a quick fix, better circumstances or a fuller bank account. But I can promise you a fuller life, a better reason for getting up each day and a future worth dreaming about. The life God wants to give you is “real...more...and better” than anything you could ever dream up on your own.

Will you trust Him with your life? Will you take action in faith, believing that God can guide your steps to the best life possible? We can embrace life in all of it’s goodness, struggle, tension, joy, sorrow, pain and victory and we can enjoy it’s richness by experiencing it fully through Jesus.

36 down, 4 to go!

Go ahead and take the plunge, life is always better on the water!

My second book, Project Nehemiah, is all about embracing the remarkable life God has for each of us. You can purchase a copy here if you're interested in more!

Cj's birth, and preparation for her death.

December is a very busy, and somewhat expensive, month for our family. Traci and I were married on December 28th. I have two nieces and a nephew who have December birthdays. My Mother-in-law has a December birthday. BJ was born on December 6th and then, in 2005, Celina (CJ) was born on December 20th. And, of course, the celebration of Jesus’ birth occurs every year on December 25th.  

CJ was our surprise baby. Traci and I had been talking about maybe adding a third little monster to the mix, so the day Traci realized she was pregnant we were excited to round out our family to three children. At about 8 weeks pregnant we expected our final Alphabet (Aj, Bj, Cj) to be born mid-January, and the doctor set January 19th as the official delivery date.

When December of 2005 rolled around, we started in on the family celebrations. First BJ’s birthday, then my Mother-in-law’s birthday and then we head to my first nieces birthday (my nephew hadn’t been born yet) . That’s when life got a little crazy. We went to bed on December 19th and Traci got up in the middle of the night having some pretty strong contractions. She tried moving around, tried getting more comfortable upright in the living room, but nothing seemed to work, and the contractions were getting stronger.

She finally woke me up around 7am and said, “I’m pretty sure this baby is coming today.” Since Traci had already experienced two other births, I didn’t question her mom-sense, but I did have a moment of brief panic. We hadn’t packed the hospital bag yet. We had just asked someone to be “on call” in case she came in the night and we needed someone to watch AJ & BJ, but that was it. So I made the call to Michelle and asked her to boogie over to the house while I scramble to get a bag packed. In about 30 minutes we were off to the hospital (a 7-minute drive from our house) and shortly after we were in the new birthing wing preparing for another long day of labor.

CJ was 30 days early, but she wasn’t particularly eager to emerge. She like the concept of being born, she just didn’t like the process! Traci spent 12 hours in pretty hard labor and finally experienced the joy of holding a new born child a few minutes after 7pm on December 20th. At 6.5 lbs she hardly seemed to fit the “premie” term the staff used to describe her. She was a beautiful baby.

The problem with making an early appearance, is that not everything is full developed inside the baby. For CJ, this meant that her lungs had not fully grown. We were released from the hospital on a normal schedule (2 days after birth) but then had to return a couple of days after Christmas because of Jaundice and some breathing concerns. Again we headed home.

A couple of weeks into January, I was doing some counseling at church, when my cell phone rang. It was Traci. Over the years I have committed to answer the phone when she calls, but on the rare occasion I can’t step out of a meeting or I’m in a significant conversation, I let ring. For Traci, if it’s an emergency or she really needs to chat with me quick, she calls right back and that double ring is my signal that she needs a quick call.

The phone rang a second time and I excused myself from my counseling session. Traci had taken CJ in for a visit and the doctor had listened to her breathing carefully. Because of her underdeveloped lungs, he had been paying extra close attention to how she was breathing. During the visit, he rolled his chair over to Traci, and with great calmness yet urgency, he said, “Traci, I need you to take Celina to the hospital immediately. I want you to go to ER and I’ll call ahead and make sure they are ready. This is serious, but we’ve caught it and everything should be ok.” Traci was calling me on her way to the hospital.

I excused myself from my counseling session and then headed downtown to meet her and CJ. My mind was racing and I knew that this situation was serious. When I found them, several tests had already been performed and CJ was being placed in an oxygen bed and having several IV’s put in. She would be spending the next couple of days in the NICU.

That night, as doctors were trying to resolve her breathing issues, I spent the night with Celina. One of the doctors had “that look” that told me this thing was pretty serious and the concern on his face gave me ample reason to be worried. I remember picking up CJ for a brief break from the oxygen bed, holding her in my arms while we walked around the room. And I had that thought of despair: “What if God takes her from us?”

That question hit me like a ton of bricks, turned my stomach inside out and brought some tears to my eyes. What if God wanted to take CJ home? What if we were only given the privilege of knowing her a month? What if God wanted to walk us thru this dark passage of life in order to show Himself faithful to us, even in the deepest moments of grief? What if?

That moment in the hospital was a moment of decision for me. As I talked to my sweet baby girl and placed her back in her bed, I told the Lord I would trust Him, even if His plans included taking CJ away from us. I told Him I’d be devastated and angry, but I committed, that I would trust Him. I didn’t try to bribe God that night (which I certainly have tried before), and I didn’t hinge my trust on whether or not he would save her life (if you save her, I will trust you) but instead, clinging to the truth of Scripture that my path has been ordered by God, I chose to trust Him.

I slept better than average that night in the hospital and the next night Traci stayed with CJ. Two nights later, we took her home and our little Celina is now 8-years-old and healthy. She is a joy to our family.

Have you ever had those moments where you had to make a decision about trusting God? I wish you could make that decisions once and it would be just be done for life, but the reality is that life will present many opportunities for that faith to be trusted, and more than once I’ve had to recommit my faith to God. And that’s not because He has changed, but because I waiver.

Is Psalm 37:5 David writes about trusting God. Look at verses 5 and 6 from The Message:

Open up before God, keep nothing back; He’ll do whatever needs to be done: He’ll validate your life in the clear light of day and stamp you with approval at high noon.

I love that phrase, “Keep nothing back.” Several other translations say, “Trust in Him” and that’s exactly what faith is: Trusting in God with everything, holding nothing back...not even your newborn baby. And we can trust Him because He will do what needs to be done. God will always choose the best path for us! It may not be easiest path, the shortest path, the flattest path or the brightest path, but He will always choose the best path for you and me.

What are you facing today? Do you need to renew your commitment to trust the Lord with your path? Are you overwhelmed? Are you in despair? Are you experiencing grief? Has worry become a close companion? Are you hurt, angry or just plain exhausted with life? Let me urge you to take David’s advice:

* Open up before God, and tell Him what’s on your heart

* Then hold nothing back and put your trust in His work

God will do what needs to be done, and He will ultimately do what’s right and best for you. Will you trust Him today?

Go ahead and take the plunge, life is always better on the water.

Birth and other messy things

At 3am on May 24th, 1974, I started making my wishes for an appearance, known. While they didn’t often do ultrasounds in those days to determine a child’s gender, my mom had that motherly instinct that assured her I was a chunky boy. And a few hours after I started plotting an escape from my maternal holding tank, a doctor facilitated my release and all 8+ pounds of me emerged.  

My next oldest sibling had tortured my mom for 33 hour of labor, so despite my size -- “the biggest of the brood” -- the time reduction was welcomed by my mom. And as they played the birthing song in the hospital lobby (dad’s didn’t often join their wives in the birthing room in those days), my father knew he had a third son and the name had already been chosen: Joseph Aaron Castañeda.

Birth is messy. If you’ve ever had the experience of seeing new life enter in this world, you know the mess of which I speak. Sitting bed-side while my wife gave birth to all three of our children, I had a front row seat to the natural carnage. I’ll spare you the details, but there is nothing glamorous about birth.

And yet, birth is incredibly beautiful. After my wife had labored for over 15 hours, our firstborn emerged reluctantly. In an instant, the pain of child bearing disappeared, tears of joy replaced tears of pain and in the majesty of the moment, both Traci and I turned our attention to the baby boy nestled in a blanket, resting on her chest. There are few things more beautiful than watching a mom hold her new born baby after enduring labor.

I don’t think it’s an accident that birth is messy and beautiful -- it’s a metaphor for the life that will be experienced by the new child. Life is messy. Read the paper, watch the news or follow the top online headlines for a week and you’ll know just how messy it can be. Since Adam and Eve chose to disobey God in Genesis 3, the messiness of life has followed humanity like a haunting shadow.

Messiness is the reality of a busted up world. Yet intersecting with the reality of messiness is the fact that beauty is emerging all around us. Just as Adam and Eve experienced God’s grace and forgiveness following their moral failure, that same grace and goodness shows up in the greatest darknesses of this life.

Just as the pain and mess of childbirth fades when the mom holds her new baby, the messiness of life pales when God’s grace shines through. Paul said it this way in 2 Corinthians 4: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” The big-picture of God’s grace makes the messiness of this life worth it!

Have you experienced the messiness of this life? Maybe you are enjoying a break, or maybe you are living in the muck right now! Let me assure you that life starts messy, and stays messy until it ends. What makes it worth living is the grace that God provides -- the hope that only He can give as we follow Him.

I’m glad my parents brought me into this messy world. I’m thankful for how they raised me and taught me to live in the mess but not be overcome by it (more on that in the blog posts to follow). But more than anything, I’m thankful for a God who knows the big-picture, and provides grace sufficient for every moment of every day so that I can enjoy the beauty that this life offers.

2 down, 38 to go.

Go ahead and take the plunge, the beauty of life is seen clearest out on the water!

Never Forget

My wife and I had just returned from Spain. We had been home just two nights, and were still catching up on some much needed sleep. Our son AJ was just two months old, and all three of us were experiencing somejet lag. That’s what made a 6am wake-up call so annoying. Until we realized what was happening: our nation was being attacked.

Few of us will ever forget where we were the day the 9/11 attacks happened in New York. The images of buildings crashing down in America’s largest city; the videos of people jumping out of windows giving up on a chance to be rescued; the smoke filled streets and bewildered pedestrians; the courageous firefighters who ran into buildings people were running out of; the broken hearts, shattered dreams and lost relationships that changed our nation.

In the days that followed, there were also incredible stories of heroic rescues and the amazing survival of the God-given human spirit that began moving forward. People who were thought to be dead were found alive, rescue personnel worked around the clock, never giving up the hope that one more person might be found and rescued -- including two people rescued almost 24 hours after the buildings collapsed!

We were all reminded of a lot that day. We were reminded that our country wasn’t as safe as we had always believed. We were reminded that humans have an incredible capacity to survive. We were reminded that evil was very real and very deadly. We were reminded that politics will never unite us like the coming together over tragedy or triumph. We were reminded that life is so short.

James describes our life like this:

“What is your life? It is a vapor…” (James 4:14)

After 9/11 I read countless stories of people who witnessed the events of that day and reflected, “In moments like this, you realize how fragile and how short life is.” I remember one news commentator wrapping up a multi-hour live broadcast from ground zero, stating, “Hug your children and your families tonight. Days like today remind us how precious our time is.” Indeed, time is precious.

In the grand scheme of things, life is short. It’s funny how I used to hear older people talk about “how fast time flies” or, in reference to their adult children, they would say, “I remember when I held you in my arms…seems like just yesterday.” I’m looking at my 12-year-old boy and thinking the same thing: where has the time gone? It seems like just yesterday we were coming home from a three week trip to Spain.

When my friend Richard passed away a few years ago, I remember spending time with him during his last few weeks. He had lived a good life, he had loved God, loved his wife and kids, and served faithfully in many ways. For a short season, he was a pastor, but spent much of his life in education. Richard was gracious and kind, welcoming and inviting, but held on to truth without apology. I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone quite like him.

And as he was leaving this world, I remember the confidence with which he spoke about the future, and with how little regret he spoke about the past. It wasn’t that he had lived life perfectly (he would have been the first to admit that!), but he had used his time wisely, and had honored God with his greatest resource. I’ve been on the other side of that conversation, watching men and women die with great regret -- it’s a heartbreaking tragedy to watch someone die like that.

Richard understood the shortness of life. He lived it like it was a vapor and when God took him home, Richard was ready. 9/11 reminds me that life is short. I’m not living scared, looking for the next terrorist attack, but I am mindful that the shortness of life may not give me opportunity to ‘right all wrongs’ or restore broken relationships before I’m gone. I don’t want to be breathing my last breath, mindful of all my regrets.

Are you living the Overboard Life today? Are you living all out, knowing that the shortness of life is a reality, and the moments you have today are a precious gift from God? I hope you’ll live like my friend Richard, so that when it’s time, you too will go peacefully home to God without many regrets.

I’m a little somber today as I remember back to 9/11. But I’m also eager to keep living a life, the Overboard Life, that embraces the moments God has given me. Life may be short, but it is priceless and every moment is worth living, fully!

Go ahead and take the plunge, life is better on the water!

Happy Easter!

Easter is one of my favorite Christian celebrations, because it brings to mind so many life-altering truths. Here are three of them as I think about this year’s Easter celebration: Easter reminds us that death isn’t the end: When Jesus was placed in the tomb, most people thought it was the end of His story. But on Easter Sunday when the tomb was empty, God’s story of redemption was finding completion. 1 Corinthians 15:54 tells us that “death [was] swallowed up in victory” when Jesus rose from the grave. Death wasn’t the end of Jesus’ life, and now it doesn’t have to be the end of anyone else’s life, either. Easter Sunday reminds us that death has been defeated.

All of us will face the end of this life one day -- but that isn’t the end of living. Existence will go on, but whether that is with or without God will be determined on what you do with the story and message of Easter. If you will believe in Jesus, believing that He was the perfect sacrifice paying for your sins and mine, then you too can experience the victory over death! The Bible makes it clear that all of us have a sin problem, and that sin problem keeps us separated from God. Left to ourselves, there is nothing we can do to remedy our sin problem. If we die with our sin problem not dealt with, we spend eternity without God. But God didn’t leave us by ourselves to resolve our sin problem.

Instead, He sent Jesus to take care of our sin problem. Jesus lived the perfect life, and when He died, the sin of the world was placed on Him. The penalty you and I couldn’t pay was paid by God’s perfect Son. And when He walked out of the tomb on Easter Sunday, He proved He was the lamb of God who could take away our sin.

Easter reminds us that God always triumphs: It can be easy to think that evil is winning the battle; that the world is going to hell in a hand basket. In some regards it is, but can you imagine how the disciples felt the night Jesus was crucified? They must have thought the biggest evil was about to overcome the greatest good -- they must have been certain that Satan had won.

Imagine the scene three days later when the tomb was empty and Jesus was showing up in locked rooms, popping up on roads near Jerusalem and being seen by over 500 people at one time. Suddenly evil didn’t seem so strong and God’s triumph was certain. No matter how dark things become, no matter how impossible the victory looks for God -- He will always defeat evil! Sometimes we get into the idea that God and Satan are equal titans of power and the shift from one to other is volatile. Nothing could be further from the truth! God isn’t “competing” with Satan. God isn’t going toe-to-toe with evil. God has won, and no matter how powerful or dark evil is -- God is always stronger.

Easter reminds us that the brightest days can come from the darkest nights: Jesus experienced excruciating pain and sorrow the nights leading up to His own death. His disciples deserted Him, they let Him down when He needed them most and one of His closest friends actually betrayed Him to His death. On top of that, Jesus experienced a separation from His Heavenly Father that words cannot express. On the cross, Jesus said, “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?” right before He died. The penalty for the world’s sin was placed on Him, and the Father and Son experienced some kind of interruption in their relationship that neither had ever experienced before. No words can describe how dark those nights before Good Friday were.

But Easter Sunday reminds us that the brightest days come through those dark nights. Hebrews 12:3 tells us that “[Jesus], who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, scanning it’s shame…” Joy? Yes…Joy! The darkest of nights brought the brightest of days, and Jesus knew that walking through the darkness of the crucifixion was a precursor to the joy that only God could bring.

When you and I walk through the darkness of trials and hard times, we must remember that the the brightest days come after those dark nights. When it seems like everyone or everything is against us, God’s ability to bring beauty from ashes isn’t reduced; instead, His power is manifested more clearly!

Easter is a great celebration, and a great time to remember that an Overboard Life is possible, not because of who we are, but because of who God is and what He has done for us. 

Happy Easter. And now's a great time to take the plunge, because life is always better on the water.