"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!

Death still stinks.

A couple days ago, Traci and I attended the funeral of a friend. Pastor John Gleason died, in his mid-50s, of a freak water accident. He was, by human standards, taken while in the prime of his ministry. Several hundred people attended this service, and the scope of influence his ministry had was broad and touching. This isn’t the first time I’ve written about death, and unfortunately, it won’t be the last. Death is a grim reality in this life, one that all of us must face in relationship to others, and in relationship to our own mortality. Reflecting on someone else’s death gives a chance to evaluate our own lives, and to consider the influence we’re having on those around us. I certainly found myself doing that as John’s service unfolded.

During part of the ceremony, several people shared stories of Pastor Gleason’s influence in their lives. While he pastored a smaller congregation, you wouldn’t have known that by the large number of people in attendance at his funeral. And story after story reflected the same two themes: John loved God and John loved others.

There were several humorous moments, and of course, not a dry eye in the place when his son shared about the love he received from his father. But through it all, funny or touching, obscure or enriching, the same themes of love emerged. Love for his wife and children. Love for the people in his church even those who had walked away from the Lord. Love for the prisoners he visited each week in jail. Love for children. Love for music and using it to bless others. And most of all, a deep, rich and unquenchable love for God.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I forget how simple it is. When Jesus was asked to explain the most important laws and rules His people should follow, He broke down His answer into two simple categories: Love God, and love others.

“Jesus replied [to the question]: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. and the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

Jesus went on to explain that everything in God’s Law hangs on those two themes. In other words, our lives can be measured by how well we love God and love others. Our decisions can be weighed by how much they reflect a love for God or a love for others. If you break down the Christian experience to its most basic form it boils down to these two questions: How well do you love God? How well do you love others?

Based on my experience with Pastor John Gleason, and confirmed by the myriad of testimonies I heard about his life, he excelled in both. And as I reflected on his life, his sudden death and the mark he left in this world, I wondered how I was doing in loving God and loving others. How are you doing?

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

p.s. The more I’ve thought about John’s life the more I realize that one of the ways that he loved people, was by having time and being available. I know John was busy, but it never felt like he was busy when you met with him. He always had time, and he never seemed rushed to get away from a conversation or relationship. He was a good listener. How can you show love for others today? Maybe by applying one of John’s principles to your interactions with the people around you:

1. Take time to invest in relationships
2. Don’t be rushed into, or out of, conversations
3. Listen intently

Death stinks.

The death of Frank Vega was a significant event. Last week the news came to me rather unexpectedly, and honestly, it gave me that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Traci was still in Thailand, the kids and I were on the road together so I took a morning to call a common friend. While I felt a little encouraged after the call, the reality of this life is that death stinks. Unexpected death is especially challenging.

Pastor Frank, or “Pastor Loco” as a few knew him, was an icon in the inner city of Philadelphia. He lived, worked, served and ministered the Gospel in a challenging part of the City of Brotherly Love; a part of the city that many others had abandoned because of the difficulty of the ministry.

Not only did he serve in the inner city, but he served with limited resources and often, without taking a paycheck. He lived where he worked, too, raising his kids and managing his marriage in the very place he grew up. And he did all this with his awesome wife, Carmen, who labored alongside him every step of the way. (In fact, after knowing Bishop Frank these past 12 years, I can assure you that without Carmen, there would be no Frank!)

Just last week I was talking to a friend who I discovered had once lived in Philadelphia. I took students to Philly on three occasions (each for at least a seven day trip), and visited a fourth time on my own, and so I’ve been able to learn about the city and the ministry of Pastor Frank from a limited, first-hand experience. I told my buddy about where we usually served when we were in the city, and when I mentioned Kensington, he gave me a response that I’ve heard more than once: “Wow...Kensington is a tough place...” That was Frank's place.

I met Pastor Frank in the summer of 2005, the first time I took students to work with him in Philly, as part of the summer outreach ministry of Vision for Youth. We connected right away, in part because I used my broken Spanish to crack a joke, and in part, because I loved his heart for people. His story is amazing, and the way God saved him from a life of self-destruction (gangs, drugs, violence and jail time in the U.S. and in a foreign country) is part of what makes his life’s work even more meaningful.

I made return trips with students in 2007 and 2009, and again by myself later in 2009. Each time, Frank and I had an opportunity to talk about life, ministry and how God works in us and thru us, despite our weaknesses. He often boasted about his wife, and shared how an awesome ministry opportunity almost took him out of Kensington, but Carmen kept him grounded and focused on the ministry at hand. He always challenged and blessed me each time we talked.

Since 2009, we have talked on the phone a few times, and I’ve shared a video that featured an interview with Frank to several friends, but our paths have not crossed. And now they won’t cross until the day we meet again in Heaven.

I know that there is great relief for believers when it comes to the hope we have in Heaven. In 1 Corinthians 15 Paul writes of the beautiful hope of a future with God, where the corruptible, mortal bodies that clothe our spirits today, will be replaced with incorruptible, immortal bodies of glorious mystery! John tells us in Revelation, that when human history ends as we know it today, tears and death and sorrow will be eliminated from our existence. Peter tells us that in an instant God will destroy this old world, and it will be replaced with a perfect world, unbroken by sin, and ready for our eternal pleasure.

But...

Before that glorious future is ours, there is the grim reality that death permeates this life. In 1 Thessalonians 4 Paul reminds us, “...you must not carry on over them [deceased believers] like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word” (The Message). The NIV reads like this: “...do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” Notice that we aren’t told to “not grieve” but rather, to not grieve like those who live without Christ.

It’s not a quality of super spiritual Christians to not grieve, it’s just that we’re not supposed to grieve like the hopeless. Since we belong to Christ, we belong to Hope, true hope, that rests in the resurrection of Jesus from the grave. Death evokes grief, even from Jesus (John 11:33-35), because it’s not the way things are supposed to be. We were created to live in perfect communion with God, but sin mucks-up everything. Instead of harmony, love, joy and life, we live with the reality that those virtues are often overshadowed by conflict, hate, anger and death. Those things should stir some grief in our hearts.

So I’m grieving the loss of my friend, as I know you have had to grieve the loss of people in your life, too. I know Bishop Frank is in glory, and I rejoice in his gain, but I grieve the loss that Carmen and her children must feel, I grieve the loss that me and many of Frank’s friends have in our hearts and I grieve the loss of Frank from the broken people he served in Kensington. Death stinks.

But...

Hope is spiritual F’breeze that covers the stench of loss. Christ’s death and resurrection allows us to “spread the aroma of the knowledge of Him everywhere” (2 Corinthians 2:14). In that knowledge we rest certain of our future, and anyone’s future who has put their faith in the gift God gave us, when He sent Jesus to pay for our sins. Death stinks, but hope springs eternal for those who will trust in Christ.

The Overboard Life will include walking the pathway of grief. Grief is inescapable in this life, but it doesn’t have to be experienced without hope. If we truly live life out of the comfort of the boat, and out on the water where Jesus is building His Kingdom, we will be great purveyors of that hope -- even as we walk the path of grief ourselves.

I feel fairly certain that my friend, Frank Vega, entered glory to the seven words I long to hear, when the time for my departure flight from this life into the next, arrives: “Well done, [you] good and faithful servant!” I smile when I think about the first time he saw Jesus face-to-face, and I imagine Frank has already been given a glimpse of far God allowed his ministry to reach.

Death stinks, but its power is nothing compared to the greatness of my God. So I grieve with hope, and I want to live with the kind of selfless love that Frank did, and that his wife Carmen and their family, I’m sure, are continuing after his departure. Because they too, know the power of hope that can only come from Christ. Do you?

Go ahead and take the plunge, life -- even in the face of death! -- is always better on the water.

Today we remember.

I spent Friday with my wife in DC, and during our one-day tour, we spent some quality time at the World War II monument set up by President George W. Bush in 2004. It’s a beautiful and somber memorial dedicated to the memory of those who fought bravely against vicious Japanese soldiers, those who marched through the trenches and rain-soaked battlefields of Europe, those who endured unspeakable atrocities at the hands of evil people in prison camps and for all who served and for all those who paid the ultimate price in The Great War.

War is always terrible. I don’t mean that war is always wrong, but the realities of war are gruesome. Wives lose husbands, children lose their mothers, parents see their children die as the ravages of war devastate people without partiality.

Yet, through the devastation and loss, extraordinary stories of heroes arise. People who almost always deny their own heroism -- people who say, “I just did what any of my comrades would have done.” In fact, many of their comrades fell attempting the same acts of courage and bravery. In the U.S. War display in the Smithsonian American History Museum, we heard stories that make you ask yourself, “Would I do that for my country?”

Like the nurses who moved through enemy lines to tend to wounded soldiers, or the pilots who pushed their jets to the limits, even choosing to finish a task as fuel ran out and their only option was a crash-landing. Or the story about an 18-year-old soldier who crashed the shores of Normandy, clutching a gun and a picture of his girl, knowing he was about to face an enemy that would strike down many. Over 4,000 allied soldiers died that day, including 2,500 Americans. (Today, by contrast, around 5,000 U.S. soldiers have died in the Middle East conflict. So half that numbered died on Normandy in just six hours!)

I recently read a book about a young man who grew up in a war-torn European country, who, at age 10, helped resist Nazi occupation. When Allied forces broke in and fought back the Germans, he and his family help bury the dead soldiers who had fallen on their farm. In many instances, they removed dog tags from fallen warriors and, without the aid of the internet, and barely with the help of the phone, were able to track down addresses for those soldiers so that family could be contacted and the fate of these heroes could be known.

Today we remember the fallen. Today we pray for those who are still serving our country in fields around the world. Today we thank the veterans of past wars and service, those who fought, those who protected, and those who were readied, even if -- thankfully -- they were never called to face the grimness of war. Today we ache for those wives and children, for those boyfriends and parents, for those in-laws and cousins, for those schools, roommates, communities and churches that don’t know the fate of a loved one. Today we ask God to free the imprisoned solider and to break down the wickedness in the world that enslaves innocent people and destroys freedom. Today we set aside our political preferences and agendas, and we gratefully acknowledge the bravery of the fine men and women who make up our armed forces.

Today we pray for The Day that will bring ultimate peace to this world, the day Jesus returns and establishing a perfect Kingdom rooted in perfect peace. We pray for the joyous moment to come, when wars will cease, and lives will no longer be senselessly lost at the hands of violent and evil men. We pray for God to bring true justice that punishes evil, and true righteousness that rewards the faithful. On that day, humanity will finally rest from being at war since the days of creation.

Until then, may God bless those who fight wickedness in this world, who stand to oppose injustice and who are the line in the sand against those who enslave women and children, imprison the innocent and destroy, steal and plunder the poor. May God protect, empower and give wisdom to those brave men and women, and may we always be thankful for the service and sacrifice of each of them.

Today we remember that freedom isn’t free.

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!

The death of a dream

We moved to Michigan in March of 2013. During the past 14 months, we have enjoyed getting to know our new home, learning about the area and beginning the process of understanding the people and cultural dynamics that affect my job here at the camp. This is a great state with four distinct seasons, nice people and some beautiful scenery.  

It’s also a state that has been hammered by the economic downturn of the past few years. The auto industry was the backbone of this state’s economy for so long, and today it is barely a shadow of what it once was. A million people have left Detroit, The Motor City, and houses, buildings, schools and businesses have been abandoned to be vandalized and ultimately destroyed. Detroit is the largest city to ever file for bankruptcy.

Detroit might be the biggest city hit, but it’s not the only. Almost every town in Michigan has houses and business that have been abandoned during these past ten years. At one point, Michigan was one of just a few states with a negative growth rate: more people were leaving MI than moving here.

As part of my new job, I’ve had the privilege of traveling all over this great state, and everywhere I’ve gone I have seen the effect of Michigan’s struggle. Just this last week we drove through a town and saw “Two Brother’s Bakery” all painted up on the outside, totally shutdown on the inside. A sign in the windows says, “Closed for the season, see you in 2011.” We passed a run down hotel, an abandoned gas station, we even drove through a neighborhood where 10 of 12 businesses had moved out of a strip mall, and it looked more like the set of a zombie apocalypse movie than a place people would go to buy party supplies, get a hair cut, grab a bit to eat or meet friends for coffee.

Traci and I were talking about some of these buildings and wondering about the previous owners, wondering out loud what had happened there. Most businesses are started with a fundamental dream to do something awesome. I don’t know many business owners who start a business and hope it fails. Often, big loans are acquired to get things started, savings accounts are depleted in hopes of soon overflowing with new income, and countless hours are spent by friends and family members painting walls, hanging signs, comparing other stores online and spreading the word about a new business.

And then one day it all died. The neighborhood changed as people moved away. The income of his customers dried up. The bank said “no” to her next loan request and all of the sudden, the dream seemed hopeless. Traci and I speculated about whether or not some of these businesses reopened later in another location. We wondered whether or not the owner started a totally different type of business, or if she just packed up and found a job wherever she could, or maybe he just left it all behind and started a new life in another state or country; the empty buildings a remnant of a past life.

Whatever happened, the desolation and emptiness that’s left behind is a little haunting. Whether things changed because of bad business acumen or because of social/cultural/economic issues, the reality is that these dreams are done. Our friend Michael suffered such loss when his fruit stand and neighborhood market went under. The final day he was open, as he sold off everything but the doors and windows, Traci and I visited with him. He was devastated. He owed a lot of money to the bank and to some family members, and now he was returning to an hourly job in construction. His spirit was crushed. His family had suffered because of the business and his dreams for financial freedom seemed destroyed as he turned over the “Closed” sign for the last time.

Those abandoned buildings and financial woes are the reason some of us never dream. We like the comfort and stability that comes with not dreaming. There’s not as much risk when you don’t dream, there are fewer unknowns and generally speaking, the outcome is far more predictable when you work inside the box. And if you live this way long enough, you can practically kill off any internal motivation to dream in the future. Soon, you don’t even want to think about something as dangerous as a dream.

Yet that seems so contrary to how God made us. It seems each of us a capacity, indeed a built-in desire, to pursue something bigger than what we can see. Sure, you can dull that desire and practically destroy it by constantly ignoring it, but it never totally goes away. I’ve visited with prisoners who have 20 years left to go on their sentence, and they are talking about their future outside of jail. I’ve met cancer patients facing a terminal prognosis who are dreaming about life after they kick cancer to the curb. I’ve met homeless men and women who have larger-than-life goals when their financial situations turn around. Traci and I have met some stay-at-home moms who want to manage their homes with excellence while jump-starting their own businesses on the side.

In fact, the truth is, as a pastor, friend, coach and writer, I have never talked to anyone who didn’t have some hopes and dreams for something different. Sometimes those dreams were hidden deep in the recesses of some small corner in the back of their brain, but with the right questions, enough prodding and sometimes threats to keep them locked in my office until they shared their dreams, something emerged. Dreams for a vacation with the wife. Dreams for a better a life for their children. Dreams for financial security. Dreams to reach their neighbors for Jesus.

I believe the Overboard Life is dream-driven. The whole notion of getting out of the boat is based on the belief that you can walk on water -- you can do something that seems almost impossible to you now! Dreams are risky, they are hard to attain (or you would already have them!), they change, they move, they morph, they grow and just when you think you can lunge and grab them, they shift upward just out of your grasp. And so many people stay in the comfort of the boat because of those factors.

But not you and me. Not anyone who wants to live the Overboard Life. Like Paul, we “press on toward the prize” of a life lived for God. With the writer of Hebrews, [we] throw off everything that hinders" in this world so that we can be something different, focused on Jesus, running toward a bigger-than-life goal. Maybe it’s like my friend Tim who sets up each week in downtown Salem with a desk, a white board and a question. He uses a question written out on a white board to talk to total strangers about Jesus, and shares his heart with them. Maybe it’s like our friends Andy and Jodie who traveled to Tanzania to be a part of helping a people group know the story of a God who loves them so much, that He sent His only Son to die for their sins. Or it could be like my friend Jay, who runs several successful businesses and uses each of his ventures as a means to show God through beauty, creativity and other powerful expressions of his faith. Or it could be like our friend Nora who uses her teaching job as a way to show the mercy and grace of God to children and families in need.

What about you, what God-sized dreams do you have? Do you want to start a business? Write a book? Start a publishing company? Parent better? Have an off-the-charts marriage? Improve your health? Get to know your neighbors? Learn a new skill? Become a public speaker? [enter your dream here]?

By God’s grace, I want to live a dream-driven life, with my faith placed squarely on the One who put those dreams in my heart. This isn’t a “I can do anything I want” motivational blog, this is a “I can do all things through Him, who gives me strength” kind of a speech. This is a “God gives you everything you need to do everything He wants you to do” kind of a speech. And when you put your faith in Him, grab the sides of the boat and jump, all of your dreams are within reach. The Dream Giver, is the One who makes them a reality, too.

I hope you’re chasing your God-sized dream today. I don’t need you to chase mine, and I don’t want to chase yours (but I want to help you reach them! Let me know what I can do!). God made you specifically for dreams He placed in your heart, and it’s time for you to “throw off everything that hinders” and “fix your eyes on Jesus” (Hebrews 12:1-2) as you go after them!

Go ahead and take the plunge, your dreams are always better on the water!

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.

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.