A weekend with Papa

Have you ever had a time in your life that was so wonderful and filled you with so much joy that you wish time would freeze and you could live it over and over again?  This past weekend was one of those times for when I had the extreme privilege of hearing Wm. Paul Young, author of "The Shack" speak at my church and at a men's retreat.  throughout the series of talks that spanned over three days I laughed, cried, and learned how to feel God's love in my life in brand new ways that I never thought was possible for me.  I cannot possibly share all of the stories Paul told that were both heart-wrenching and utterly hope-filled at the same time, but I wanted to share just a few things that my Papa has been trying to tell me all along.

1.  I love you! I love you! I love you! No matter what you do son, I love and I will always love you.  No matter what!  You can't change this and I won't change this! I am love.

2.  You do not belong to fear and sin.  You, my child, were created in My image, and I am always good.  If there is pain, sorrow, hurt or sin it did not come from Me.  So if I am always good, and you were created in My image, then you do not belong to sin, you belong to me. If you do not belong to sin then sin does not define you, only my love defines you.

3. I don't bring pain and death into this world, but that doesn't mean that I won't use it for something better, something monumental.  I did not create death, but I can use death to create a bigger and better life than you can imagine.  

4. I cannot lie because I am always good.  So, if I ask you to trust me, then nothing can happen that won't be good.  Nothing.

5. In case you've already forgotten, I love you!  

This is what Papa told me this weekend, and if you are quiet and listen really carefully, He's telling you too. If you want to hear part of what Wm Paul Young shared this weekend, you can go to Cornerstone Church's website and listen for yourself.  Now go talk to your Papa!

 

Where has the time gone?

It’s happened again this year.  In fact, it’s happened more than once this year.  An entire season has gone by far more quickly than I anticipated.  Thinking back to around Memorial Day, I can remember that I had a mental list of things that I wanted to do and projects that I wanted to tackle that just didn’t get done.  What happened?  Life happened: work, sleep, and mostly times when I was just feeling completely unmotivated to do anything and always thinking to myself, “Well, I’ll do that next weekend.”  It never ceases to amaze me how quickly time passes by and how large my ambitions are vs. how committed I am do seeing something through to the end. 

Unfortunately, there are other areas in life that can fall into this same pattern.  We have so many good intentions that never make it past the planning stage. We put off phone calls to family members and old friends to the point where we don’t think about them anymore. We let the Bible sit on the table gathering dust and choose to turn on the T.V. instead of talking to our Father who misses hearing from us.

I often forget that from the day I was born, my time on this planet was already pre-determined and I don’t get an unlimited number of tomorrows or next weeks.  What I choose to do today and every other day is critical to my life and the lives of others.  The opportunities I have to comfort, hug, or even say “I love you” to someone decrease every single day and I don’t get those moments back.  The chances to show hope and love to my neighbors, co-workers, even the person in front of me at the grocery store slips away with every sunset and before I know it, there are no more chances and no more tomorrows. 

I don’t want to think to myself, “If I could live my life over again I would…” rather I want to know exactly where my time has gone and know it was spent well.

The cradle will not rock

My job is fairly uneventful. Mainly a 9 to 5 type of work with some travel thrown in the mix here and there.  I can say it’s been pretty carefree and uninteresting for the most part, that is until this week.  It just so happens that I was scheduled to fly to Boston 24 hours after the bombing at the Boston Marathon two days ago.  There was definitely a pit in my stomach when I heard about this on the news on the drive home when it happened.  Panic and fear immediately hit a city and an event that draws immense international focus and attention.  I was hoping to get an email immediately saying that my conference was canceled.  I was hoping that the hotel, which is one block away from where the blasts happened, would say that everyone has been evacuated and it is closed until further notice. But no, this wasn’t the case.

When I got to Boston I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  Would there be mass chaos or people everywhere in the throes of emotional breakdowns? No, this still wasn’t the case.  What I saw, and still see around me here, is quite the opposite.  While everyone is all too aware of the tragedies of two days ago, the people of Boston are not defeated.  The faces I see around me are still smiling, although maybe not as much as they normally would.  People are still laughing and courteous, although maybe a little more wary of their surroundings than they might otherwise.  The city is still embracing one another, even the visitors such as myself, as they would have otherwise.  The spirit of Boston is still vibrant, and I think even to the point of patting the rest of the nation on the back and saying “It’s going to be okay.”

What does it mean to be tested and tried?  What does it look like to get up when you fall or you're pushed down?  I’ve experienced triumph and I’ve experienced failure and disappointment.  I’ve been beaten down to the point where I almost haven’t been able to get up.  But this is the first time since 9/11 I’ve witnessed first-hand an entire community stand back up and brush itself off.  I don’t think it’s possible to fully understand the events that this city have experienced in the last 48 hours, but I am grateful, and privileged, to witness the recovery that is happening.  I’m glad I came, I’m proud of this city, God Bless America!

The Day In Between

Yesterday, it all went down.  The man who spent the last three years of his life dedicated to loving others without concern of what the world thought, who performed miracle after miracle for people who both praised his name and I’m sure some who just took his gift and threw it away, was humiliated, beaten, and then spent hour after agonizing hour hanging by spikes ripping into his flesh.  It was brutal and excruciating pain, made all the worse by Roman soldiers pointing and laughing while throwing die to see who would get his only possessions he ever owned.  But his entire life was preparing him for this day……..it was destined to happen from the beginning.  And why was that?  It was because of me and because of you.  We were the hammer, the hammer that drove the nails into his body.  We were the ones who chose to turn away from God time and time again.  We had our own agenda and our own game plan.  We chose evil, and hate, and nasty words, and death, and tearing people down, and letting people starve, and letting children wallow in sickness and did nothing.  We should have been up there, hanging from those beams and writhing in pain.  We deserved this.  But that man, the one named Jesus, he did it for us.  In fact, just as he was being taken captive by the those soldiers the other day, he turned around and gave a little nod to the disciples, saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” This was yesterday.

Tomorrow, well we know what’s going to happen then.  Jesus was telling us all along what would happen.  While he would die, he would live again.  He would live forever and we could too if we were willing. Yep, that’s what’s going to happen tomorrow and I can’t wait! It will be the best day ever! But what do we do now? What can we do now? What do we know how to do?  Well there is one thing we know how to do because we did it so well before, and that is to be the hammer.  But this time, what if instead of causing pain and death we choose to heal and free.  What if tomorrow, on that amazing day, we look around for people who have build up these walls around themselves.  These walls of anger, fear, failure, pain, sorrow and loneliness that have been building for so many years.  The walls that are now thick and tall, and take our hammers and chip away at them.  Some of these walls we might only crack a little bit, but others might come down with one swing.  What if we hit, and hit, and hit, and hit these walls with love, compassion, understanding, patience, and most importantly God’s forgiveness so that we aren’t the only one who get’s to see Jesus live again and reach out his hand to us? What if other could see and experience this as well?  It’s about time this hammer of mine did some good in this world.

Trainwreck-Celebrating Holidays as a Wiltsey – Part 2

While the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year, I’ve always remembered it to be mostly chaos.  Growing up I don’t recall much about this time of the year being particularly relaxing as we were usually trying to balance our everyday lives with buying a Christmas tree, cleaning, baking, shopping, performing in school Christmas plays and wrapping presents. This was also usually the time of year when my parents would decide to put a fresh coat of paint on the walls before company came.

Over the years, I’ve developed a unique skill of being able to wrap presents of just about any size and shape without too much difficulty.  This was usually a result of being the only one who would wrap about 75 or so presents for the entire family into the wee hours of the morning………even my own.  I would as why was I bothering to wrap my own presents when I already knew what I was getting, but that was a fairly irrelevant point.  Now for most families, food is a fairly significant part of celebrating the holidays.  In my family, it probably attributed to at least half of the yuletide festivities.  Where most mothers might bake one, two, maybe three different kinds of cookies; that would never do with my mom.  She is an incredibly talented baker and would make probably three to four dozen different KINDS of cookies!  And she would make them for everyone: teachers, friends, neighbors, the mechanic, the doctor’s office, the dentist’s office (yeah lots of irony there), just about anyone and everyone.  She also loved to make gingerbread houses with elaborate details like stained glass windows, firewood in the backyard and Christmas trees in the front yard. But when my mom was running short on time during this season, she would recruit my Dad and I to decorate cookies into the early morning hours. You see, my parents thoroughly believed sleep deprivation was an essential part of the Christmas season.  I quite often had those vivid images of sugarplums dancing in my head along with other hallucinations.  The only way my Dad and I could finally get off the hook of decorating these cookies is when we started to ice them with little messages like “Help Me”, or making the snowmen with “yellow snow”. 

But I think one of the greatest character building tasks that my dad would give my brother and I to do is to test all the Christmas lights before we hung them outside.  Now this was back in the day when you had the kind where if one bulb was out, they were ALL out. And it was critical to makes sure all 10 of the 200+ light strands were tested and that all of the burnt out lights were replaced.  That is, after we untangled the thirty-pound tangled ball that they had morphed into over the course of the previous year up in the attic.

But all of this is still part of the amazing childhood that I had, and when I feel that longing to experience the Christmases of my youth, I just cover my hands in pine sap so they stick to everything I touch for about a week and a half.

Trainwreck: Celebrating Holidays as a Wiltsey – Part 1

As I sit and think about Thanksgiving tomorrow, the food, family, and all the many ways God has blessed me and my family in ways that are far beyond what we deserve; I am always brought back to memories from long ago of Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings spent with my family.  I’ve been thinking about writing about this for a while, years in fact, because these are such amazing and happy memories that I recollect every year that define my family and how special they are to me.

Now let me start off by saying that if you don’t know me or any other members of my family, we can very easily be described as “unique”.  We can amuse ourselves endlessly with silliness and have a sense of humor that would cause many to scratch their heads. Growing up, we always spent Thanksgiving at my Grandmom Wiltsey’s house in Seaford, Delaware.  She lived in a rambler on about an acre and a half that backed up to a small pond.  I remember when we would drive over to Seaford the night before Thanksgiving and the two hour drive seemed to last forever.  But I always knew we were getting close when I would see the RAPA Scrapple sign on the side of the road in Bridgeville and I could hardly contain myself with excitement!  The day of Thanksgiving, my brother Paul and I would always find ways to occupy our time until the evening feast.  This could be shooting soda cans with the pellet gun my Grandmom had, taking the canoe out onto the pond (and then trying to shoot down fresh mistletoe from the trees with the pellet gun), or maybe racing around the fields on my Aunt Peggy’s Honda ATC. 

Finally, after many hours of waiting, it was time to eat.  The table was filled with the usual array of Thanksgiving goodies: turkey (which my parents always made me eat despite me being allergic and they thought I was faking this allergy for many years up until middle school), mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce (from the can, the only way to eat it), rolls, stuffing, and so on.  Now, I get to a part that is both disgusting and hilarious at the exact same time……..the trainwreck.  The goal of the trainwreck is to carefully select as many different colors of food and place them in your mouth all at once.  You then chew very carefully to make sure the “palette” is just the right texture and then look for an opportunity to make eye contact with someone else at the table. This can be anyone: mom, dad, aunt, uncle, brother, grandmom (well, she would fuss at you) or a guest (sorry Lori and Kris, you got no warning about this) Once you made eye contact, then you would open your mouth to display your “trainwreck” to them, but without letting anyone else notice you. This was usually the highlight of the meal, seeing how many times you could do it to as many people as possible.  And like I said, NOONE was spared from this experience.  Then, when everyone was full, and all 10,000 desserts were sampled, it was time to play Trivial Pursuit or Balderdash into the late evening.  

The rest of the weekend was filled with shopping, goofing off, and other halfway dangerous activities that my brother and I could get into, but it was the start to a holiday season that was sure to be filled with many more adventures.  As our family has grown and changed over the years we always have have a great time just being us, and for that I am truly thankful. 

We Have Broken Our Promise From 11 Years Ago

Eleven years ago today, this nation experienced a catastrophe so horrific that most people would never have conceived that it could happen.  We were thrown in to such a state of shock, turmoil, panic and sorrow that there is not a single person that was not impacted by those attacks. But rather than lashing out in anger and hatred, most people responded with such an overwhelming compassion and love for one another that nothing else mattered.  Rich, poor, white, black, Latino, straight, gay, it didn’t matter. We were all more concerned with caring and loving one another as if we were all one family. I think this may have been the closest we’ve ever come to showing the love of God in the history of a nation that was founded on a desire to love God freely and deeply.  And not too long after, the “Never forget 9-11-01” bumper sticker was plastered on just about every surface we could find.  Our hearts were changed forever.

Or so we told ourselves.  Fast forward eleven years later, and if you were to look at the newspaper today, the only thing you would see is “Romney attacks Obama”, “Obama slams Romney”, “Citizens are sick of bailing out the poor, the government, the military, the corporations” And everyone is screaming at one another “YOU MUST ACCEPT EVERY ASPECT OF MY LIFE NO MATTER WHAT!” and “YOU ARE NO GOOD AND IT’S YOUR FAULT THIS COUNTRY IS SO SCREWED UP!” We are all too consumed with who has their hands in our pockets and obsessed with holding onto “our” money as tightly as we can; money that was in someone else’s pocket before it got to ours.  We are filled with more hatred and intolerance now than ever before.  We feel the need to criticize everything we don’t agree with on Facebook, Twitter and on the bumpers of our cars.  In fact, the only things we support together are sports teams that have absolutely no impact on the welfare of our society whatsoever.

But if you really want to remember and honor, what happened eleven years ago, remember those who are in pain, sick, hungry, lost, unloved, hopeless.  Remember that we once needed someone else for help, and that we still do.  Remember that in long run, whoever is sitting in the White House is not going to fix everything.  They can’t, we can’t, but God can with us and through us.  Stop cursing someone’s name, but rather pray for them.  Stop blaming someone for what’s wrong, but instead ask, “How can I help?”  Stop spending so much time showing people that they’re wrong, but instead show them that they are loved.  That is a memory worth keeping.

The journey is part of the destination

How’s the commute?  What do you think of the commute?  How can you make that commute?  I hear these questions often since I started my new job five weeks ago.  Some people stare at me in disbelief when they hear that I’ve chosen to drive 100 miles on the days I have to go into the office.  Why on earth would a sane person choose to do this?

It’s quite simple; this is where I’ve been called to work during this season of my life and my life is not designed to be convenient.  We always want to get from point A to point B as quickly and painlessly as possible, whether it’s in a car or to working to reach certain milestones and goals in our lives.  But did you ever think that it’s what you saw, what you felt, how you reacted, and what you chose to learn during your journey that impacts how you finally experience the destination you’ve reached?  It’s about the attitude you choose to have, the grace you show others, and the thankfulness for what you’ve been blessed with, and the joy you are determined to have that determines whether or not your destination was worth the trip to begin with.

I firmly believe that our lives on this planet are only temporary, and this is far from the end.  I believe in an eternity that can be more wonderful than we can possibly imagine spent in God’s glorious presence; or one that can be more torturous and agonizing than we can ever fathom. I believe that it’s completely our choice whether or not we chose to accept God’s grace or not, but the extent to which we experience His grace and glory is determined on how we approach our “commute” to eternity.  I only pray that I chose to acknowledge the blessing and privilege of walking this journey each and every day, no matter what I encounter along the way.

Very cool little video

Sometimes you jump off the diving board, and sometimes they yank the diving board out from under you.

Wow, just wow.  I am three days into my new job and it is exciting, scary and humbling all at the same time.  I now realize that my new boss was really paying attention to what I was saying during the interview process.  Describing yourself as a self-starter and able to create and design processes is most likely to result in a response of "When you show up for work the first day, we won't bother to unlock the front door for you because we know you will figure out how to get inside."

Don't get me wrong, I am loving my job so far and I am definitely not bored, but much of my orientation has involved sitting with a handful of people and getting a very brief view of systems with the hopes that my eyes can follow the lightning-fast cursor on the monitor and assuming I know what things people are clicking on.  And when I want to know where to find a certain document, spreadsheet or other piece of information, it is usually followed by pointing to the computer and saying "It's on the shared drive" or "It's on the website or intranet."  At least it was narrowed down to the intranet and computers on our company network and not the entire interwebs, that is helpful.

But this is all good stuff because I am becoming the office cubicle version of Bear Grylls.  In an office where most people don't drink coffee, I can make a cup out of used Xerox toner cartridges and use a bottle of circa 1987 White-Out as half and half.  Then while looking for those all-elusive policy documents on the shared drive, I will do my best not to delete years worth of financial spreadsheets and data and I may just make myself a privacy curtain for my cubicle doorway out of paper clip chains. I've noticed my new co-workers kind of look at me with curiosity as if I were just pictured on the 10 o'clock news and described as "the quiet neighbor that kept mostly to himself" and then was discovered with ten human skulls in my freezer.  They haven't really seen my true personality yet and when that happens, I foresee some type of crisis counselor spending a week in the office trying to calm people down.

This is going to be quite and adventure, well, as much of an adventure as a career in insurance is possible.  I will crawl out from under the sink in the bathroom, take baby steps back to my desk and re-do the TPS reports while I wait longingly for all that quality time I will have to myself on the drive home in the afternoon.