Delays

I once watched a film that told me that whenever I get all crumby about the world I should go to an airport. It’s apparently there that I can see through reunions and various displays of affection that “love actually is all around.” Now, I love the hope and spirit of optimism that surrounds this observation, but in all honesty I must disagree with the prime minister. A couple of weeks ago I sat in the Oklahoma City airport for about nine hours to test this theory. Okay, not really. I sat in the Oklahoma City airport because my flight was delayed, but I can testify that I was there for nine hours.

Rather than seeing tearful smiles, deep gazes, and reunions that would make your heart flutter away; I was confronted with rolling eyes, under-breath cussing, cranky phone calls, and people whose god was their schedules. To a certain extent, I could understand their frustration. After being in the airport for about 7 hours, I began to turn a little restless myself. And I do realize that a fallen world will produce frustrations such as these and pretty nasty reaction to them.

But suddenly, without any particular reason or source, a small breeze of peace began to gently blow into my heart. I began to look around at everyone, at tired people waiting for information at the desk, at a woman sitting by a child as he was eating some ice cream, at a man holding a small chihauhau in his coat pocket, at the front desk as airport people frantically typed in information often with two fingers. It was at this moment that I was suddenly reminded of a conversation I had with a friend of mine. He made the simple observation that the weather was inescapably uncontrollable and unpredictable. Even in Oklahoma, where I am from and where I am told the ‘weather experts’ are, the weather is still unpredictable and uncontrollable there.

You see, friends, the reason why my flight was delayed was for the simple reason that a rather large thunderstorm decided to plant itself right on top of the Houston George Bush Intercontinental Airport, which was the place of my connecting flight. The airport was apparently shut down for about three hours delaying flights across the country. As I reflected on this and the many upset people at that airport that Tuesday I began to think about all of the technology that we have created for ourselves. We have built huge flying machines that can turn fourteen-hour trips into two-hour trips. We have built intricate computer systems that allow thousands of these machines to lift off everyday without running into each other. We have built elaborate airports with restaurants, televisions, and comfortable chairs in order to make our stay in airports as comfortable and as similar to home as possible. Yet, when a simple storm, something we have all seen before and are quite familiar with, decides to plant itself in just the right place, all of our plans, our schedules and our technology are useless. And we are inevitably delayed.

But as I sat there with that breeze of peace still blowing on my heart and a crying baby next to me, I couldn’t help but be thankful that we are not in control. I am thankful that we do not always get what we want and that delays come. It is a good thing. I repeat: IT IS A VERY GOOD THING that we are ultimately not in control. It is a good thing that we cannot control and predict the weather; it’s a good thing that we can’t control and predict God.

Delays mean waiting, and waiting is something we have all experienced. I read a book recently that said, “We often equate waiting with God’s inactivity.” But when you read the scriptures, something is happening when we wait. Isaiah 30:15,18 says:

“This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: ‘In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it…Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!’”

This seems to suggest to me that salvation happens when we are waiting. Changing and God’s favor happens when we wait. God is actually doing something in the midst of this waiting, and those who wait are actually becoming something. In the waiting there is a growing in relationship with God. How do you view waiting? Is it a time of looking forward to something in the future or is it a time to focus on the now, on the significant change that is happening now? I wrote a short meditative song not long ago on this theme of waiting:

I will wait on you Lord
I will wait on you Lord
I will wait on you Lord
I will wait on you Lord

It’s in the waiting that you are changing
It’s in the waiting that you’re rearranging
It’s in the waiting that you’re preparing
It’s in the waiting that you are saving…

Delays are a significant part of the rhythm of life, the sounds of dissonance before the beautiful resolution in a symphony. Delays remind us that we are not in control, that there is One who knows better. Thank God for thunderstorms. Thank God for delays.

A Bowl of Beans

“Why don’t ya go get you some of them beans, boy,” Saunders asked me as I had just finished eating a delicious cheeseburger prepared for me. I sat on an old but very comfortable couch while Saunders sat in a large, dark-blue recliner in the corner adjacent to me, his usual place. We were in a living room at the bottom of an awkward five-story house with rooms stacked on top of each other. The first time I had entered and toured up into the house I couldn’t help but think that I was ascending the steps of some swaying and unbalanced tower of Pisa considering that one careless step might send the whole thing toppling over.
“Were they good, man?” I asked him, stuffed and pretty content with my cheeseburger and fried potatoes.
“Yeah, boy. Go in there and get you some,” Saunders persisted with his eyes remaining fixed on the television watching Steve McQueen escape from prison in Mexico. This had been my third time to hang out with Saunders, each time we would sit and watch television together. Saunders was a very tall man maybe in his late fifties or early sixties who I rarely saw leave his recliner chair. Saunders found a strange sort of freedom in that chair with the television in front of him, and he did not like to be bothered one bit. I remember in our first time together, when he quite frankly wanted nothing to do with me, we were (with his eyes still firmly gazing at the television) making small talk during the commercial break of an intense re-run of “Law and Order.” When the commercial break ended and I was in the middle of a sentence, he slowly raised his hand and quietly said, “Okay, okay, I’m done witchya.” I understood. I wasn’t offended. The man wanted to watch his show, and it wasn’t my place at that time to interfere.
“They were really good beans, huh?” I asked again still quite content with the hearty cheeseburger I had just eaten. To be honest, I didn’t want any beans. On the one hand, a bowl of beans didn’t sound good to me at this time. In fact, it kind of sounded gross. I was full and the last thing I wanted to do was to eat some beans. On the other hand, I was content with just remaining on the couch, watching “Papillion,” and making small talk during the commercial breaks.
“They’re right in there. Go in there and get you some. There’s bowls in there,” he said a third time.
It was at this point that something stirred inside of me. Something began to tell me that this was no ordinary exchange. There was no bright light in the sky and no mighty voice from heaven, but I soon felt a tremendous urging to answer Saunders’ request and make myself a bowl of beans. Suddenly I knew that this would not be just any bowl of beans. This was not simply a recommendation like urging someone to try your favorite dish at your favorite Italian restaurant. Saunders was offering me much more than beans. He was offering an opportunity, a gift. Saunders knew that we came from very different places with different experiences. Perhaps Saunders also knew that I was there to build a relationship with him. He would be right. I was there asking God to cultivate a relationship between me, him, and the other men living in that house praying that the truth of Christ might penetrate their hearts through our fellowship together. No, this was no ordinary bowl of beans. This was a piece of Saunders himself, a part of his life from his side of the tracks. Saunders was asking me to eat what he eats, to join him in his life, which was very different from mine. I was in the mission field and that bowl of beans was like an exotic and uncomfortable food placed in front of me. I had to eat. I recalled Jesus’ table ministry in that moment and the importance He placed on eating what was offered by those who hosted Him. The Lord was offering me an opportunity to sacrifice my individual desire this moment so that He would have an avenue by which He might begin to harvest a relationship between Saunders and I.
I silently and with a great deal of new-found urgency went into the other room, got myself a bowl of white beans, came back in and sat down on the couch next to Saunders still gazing at the television screen. Nothing incredibly powerful happened after that that I could see. But I could sense a change in our relationship. Suddenly, as our conversation began to open up more I realized that we had moved farther from casual conversation to the realm of friends. Another brick in the bridge had been laid by a not so ordinary bowl of beans, which by the way actually turned out to be quite tasty.
“These are good beans,” I turned and said to Saunders.
“Yeah, boy. Them beans is real good,” he quietly said with his eyes still rigidly fixed on Steve McQueen.

Frisbee Dog

I have learned a lot over recent years. I have learned very significant and important things. I’ve learned about various cultures, religions, and histories. I’ve learned of complex theories and of complex problems. But, without a doubt, one of the most important things I’ve learned, one of the most considerable things I have gained knowledge of is…that one-day…

I want to own a Frisbee Dog.

That’s right. I want to own a Frisbee dog. I want a dog to which I can go outside and toss a Frisbee thirty yards out into the air, and the dog will run and catch it gracefully in mid-air. We would do that all Saturday afternoon and it would be terrific. There’s something amazing about these dogs to me. Maybe it was from watching ‘Flight of the Navigator’ too much as a kid.

The context of this motivation lies in an experience I had one day while going to a park. There is a park that I go to nearby from time to time to read, play guitar, think, and reflect. While enjoying a fantastic book one day, I began to notice a beautiful black Labrador off in the distance. The Lab was very excited about something, and I soon figured out why. The owner was nearby and he started to pull out a Frisbee. This dog became so incredibly excited. The owner proceeded to launch the Frisbee out into the air. I watched in amazement, as this dog would chase this Frisbee nearly thirty yards out. This dog would effortlessly jump into the air and catch the Frisbee. I could hear the chomp cut through the air like it was a few feet away. Once the dog caught the Frisbee, he would bring it back to the owner, stand very still, and anxiously wait with intense attention knowing that at any moment the Frisbee would fly again. The owner would proceed to throw the Frisbee into the air, and the same would happen.

But as I sat there watching this activity, I could not help but notice the sheer joy on the dog’s face. The dog was in utter joy at this simple disc. The dog was passionate about this activity, as if this was his single, most important purpose in the world. He looked like he was smiling as he sailed through the air and his stiff ears were forced to shake in the wind. It was as if this was what he was created for. As I stood there just watching, I came to this conclusion:

I want to be God’s Frisbee Dog.

I know it sounds weird. But I want to be God’s Frisbee dog. I want to chase after the plans and the will that God sends flying over my head for me. I want to chase after God’s Frisbee with the passion and joy of the Labrador I saw that day at the park. And then, I want to bring my Frisbee back to God for his glory; otherwise, my Frisbee won’t fly. I am a firm believer that God has a unique and special Frisbee for everyone. This is a Frisbee of passion, gifts, and plans. This Frisbee is what ignites our souls. This Frisbee is the way God has laid out each of us to worship him. I have discovered that a piece of my Frisbee is the call to ordained ministry. God has set a passion for teaching, leading, shepherding, and encouraging inside of me.

But my Frisbee is just one in a plethora of Frisbees designed for God’s people. It is my belief that we still serve a powerful God who does great things in this world today. I believe that the power of the Gospel is just as impacting as it was 2000 years ago. I want to be a part of God’s movement in this world. I want to help people find their Frisbees.