The Lord called...they answered

Over the last few days, I have had the incredible privilege to spend some time with a few of Mission to the World's newest missionaries.  Some of them have spent some time overseas already and have now committed to long-term ministry.  Others have never lived abroad, but are heading out to fulfill a two year commitment they have made to serving Christ overseas.  All of them are leaving behind the world they know to love others far from home. 

As I heard their stories I was blown away by their courage, commitment, and faithfulness to God's calling.  There is the pastor who, with his wife and three small children, will be getting on a plane to plant a church in high security nation in South Asia.  There is the young graduate student who is heading to the south pacific to love and care for the same refugees that our very own country seems to despise and refuse.  There is the 60 something year old widow and cancer survivor who is leaving for England in order to minister to women, widows, and the infirm.  There are the three young families with babies on the way who will be heading all over the world with infants to proclaim the Gospel.  Oh, and the young lady heading to Athens to serve as a liaison between American churches and the immense refugee ministry being done by Greek churches throughout the city.  The list goes on.

The Lord called, and they answered.  They said "yes."  I pray that I always have the courage to do the same.  

God's canvas

When it comes to traveling, there are two kinds of people in the world.  Those who do...and those who don't.  Those who don't travel, don't travel for a variety of reasons.  Maybe it's because of finances.  Or, maybe because of health reasons.  But in this group of non-travelers, there is one subset that I find to be particularly perplexing.  This group doesn't travel because they just don't want to.  They don't see the appeal.  They are perfectly happy just seeing their small corner of the universe.  Over the years I have had a few of these folks in my life, and through conversations I have had with them, I have been forced to ask myself why it is that I travel...why it is that I long to explore the world.  I've always struggled to put it into words, but through some recent experiences I think that my mind is starting to grasp something my heart always understood. 

The world is God's canvas, and on it he has painted the most beautiful piece of art that has ever been or ever will be.  

It's like if someone gave you a Masterpiece of art that was completely covered with a sheet except for one small corner where the covering slipped off.  And that corner is beautiful. The colors are vibrant, the subject interesting.  In fact, it is a beautiful section of the art, and since you like it so darn much, you decide to keep the rest of the painting covered.  So you go on with your life, only seeing the one small corner of the painting that was uncovered when it was gifted to you.  

That is what life without travel is like.  It does not negate the beautify and wonder of our small corner of the world, but it does limit us from seeing and appreciating the greater picture.  God created for us a world full of beauty.  He created spectacular mountains and rocky beaches.  He created tide pools and redwood trees.  He created language and spices.  He created delicate flowers in red, blue, yellow, and red.  He created sheer cliffs and great desert landscapes.  He painted the world, and allows us to soak up its beauty.  Our world, every corner of it, was created for our enjoyment.  Get out there and enjoy it!

Adventure in her DNA

This past week I had the chance to celebrate my little girl's 5th birthday.  As I reflect back on the last five years, I can say one thing for sure...God gave me a little adventurer.  It is in her DNA.  From sand castle building on the Gulf Coast to hiking in Glacier National Park to throwing rocks into a mountain stream in Colorado my little girl has been an adventurer from day one.  Here is to many more adventures with my princess. 

 

Home is...

Over the last few months, I have had a lot of opportunity to think about home, to miss home, to dream of home, to leave home, to go home.  I have, in fact, spent more time on airplanes during the last eight months, than I have in the last 8 years.

In my current job in missions mobilization, my regional responsibility spans from Nebraska to Washington, Montana to New Mexico (and Hawaii and Alaska).  As such, I have been given the unexpected pleasure of returning "home" to many of the places I once called home.  I've gotten to go back to California several times.  I've traveled to Seattle (where my dad grew up and I spent time over the years).  I'm about to hop up to Montana, where I lived for four years.  And right now, I'm sitting at a coffee shop on the California central coast, a place Ashley and I called home for 9 months back in 2010.

In these travels I have often felt the warm fuzzies of a "homecoming."  I happened when I stepped into the cold Pacific waters in La Jolla, CA.  It happened when I flew into LAX and looked out over the grey landscape of Los Angeles.  It happened when I drove along Hwy 1 and looked out into the ocean, and when I threw on my running shoes for a jog in Montana de Oro State Park.   It happened when I saw the offramp for Bellevue, WA, and when I booked my tickets for Bozeman, Montana.  It happened when I strolled around BIOLA's campus (though now hardly recognizable to me).  And it happens every time I bite into an In-N-Out Double Double (of which I have eaten many on my trips back "home."

Yet, even while I have these moments of warmth as I feel, smell, hear, taste, and experience "home," I find something seriously amiss.  What is it?  Why, in the midst of "home" do I still feel like something is missing.

I think it's because home isn't a place.  It isn't a house, a neighborhood, a school or community.  It is a person.

Our "home" is only a home because of the person or persons who make it so.  For me, home in this world is Ashley.  I have told her over the years that home is wherever she is at, and I believe it more now then ever before.

Ashley and I have moved six times in the last eight years (not just homes, but also cities).  In that time, I have lived in many houses, and while I had strong feelings associated with those houses, it was only because of the woman I shared them with.  It was home, because my bride was in it.

I think that's how heaven works too.  Over the years I have heard it said that when a believer dies, they are going "home" to be be with Christ.  In other words, we recognize that we are strangers in this world, and that our real home is in heaven.  As it says in Philippians 3:20, "For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we eagerly wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ."  In heaven is Jesus Christ.  Now, I'm sure heaven itself is a great place.  There is no pain or sorrow.  There is no hunger or thirst.  But it is a place.  What makes it home?  Jesus Christ makes it home.  Heaven is home because the person of Jesus Christ is there.  Our true home is heaven not because of what it is, but because of who it is.  Without the person of Jesus Christ, we can never truly be home.

Now, as I travel around the country and the world, I get to experience a homecoming on a regular basis.  The same feelings I get when I fly into CA I get when I return to Denver now.  It happens when the wheels touch down at DIA.  It happens when I stop for a cup of coffee at Two Rivers.  It happens when I walk up my drive-way.  But, as much as I feel glad for those things, I am not home until I wrap my arms around my bride.  That is when I am home in this world.  But this home, as wonderful and amazing as it is, is still but a shadow of the final homecoming.  Someday I will get to wrap my arms around my savior, Jesus Christ.  Then, and only then, will I finally and forever be home.

Until then, I'll have to on enjoying hugging my wife...and grabbing the occasional In-N-Out.

8 by 8

What’s the point of living in Denver if you don’t flee to the mountains from time to time?  I mean really…they are right there, looming over the city, begging you to come enjoy them.  This morning, I could resist their siren call no longer.

So, at 2am this morning, I fell out of bed, grabbed my gear, hopped in the car, and made a dash for the Chasm Lake Trail.  For those who aren’t familiar with the CO mountains, this trail starts at the Longs Peak trailhead.  Longs Peak is one of the state’s “14ers,” and a very popular one at that.  Typically the parking lot fills up by 3am on the weekend, and 5am on a weekday.  So, even though I wasn’t planning on climbing the peak itself, it still meant an early drive to the mountains.

Arriving at 3:40am, I threw on my pack and hit the trail with my quickly dying headlamp.  Two hours later I was sitting on a ridge overlooking Chasm Lake waiting for the sun to come up.

Shivering (I hadn’t planned on having to wait 45 minutes for the sun to come up), I waited for the sun to rise and light up the canyon, Chasm Lake, and Longs Peak as it stood like a sentinel above me.  It was so worth the wait.

 

With the sun up, it was time to head back (which sounds a bit ridiculous since it wasn’t even 7am, but oh well).  While the climb up in the dark was it’s own kind of exciting, the descent was spectacular.  Mountain meadows, high cliffs, waterfalls, lone hikers marching to battle against Longs Peak.

And there you have it.  8 miles in God’s majesty by 8am.

We're back!

After a six year hiatus from our blog, we're back!  Since we last posted we've had a few adventures, and made some great stories.  Since 2011, we've moved a few times, had a couple of kids, changed jobs once or twice, and travelled here and there.  We won't bore you with all those details, but, suffice to say, it's been a heck of a ride.  Oh, and we live in CO now.  Let the adventure continue.