Wait Gracefully

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horse“Wait gracefully”.

This truth bomb was dropped on my head by Sarah over at Love/Power/Strength in response to a discussion here on my blog, and my ears are still ringing from the impact.

It’s just such a deceptively great phrase! And it applies regardless of what you’re waiting for.

Because there’s so many directions you can take the idea of “graceful”, at least in my mind. And because there’s an alternative: to wait gracelessly. I’ve done my share of that.

What could “wait gracefully” mean?

 

1. Graceful appearance

The outward appearance of our lives can be staggered, jerky, tumultuous and ungainly, or it can be smooth, tranquil, flowing, and confident – pleasing to the eye.

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When You Don’t Feel Like Praying for Rain Again

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rainSmoke covers the Montana Rockies. Every thunderstorm that passes through seems to touch off new blazes, which now surround my town on three sides so that the wind can’t easily clear out the smoke. Last night, flakes of ash were drifting out of the sky.

So you could say that, like Elijah, we’re praying for rain.

In the last few days, I’ve prayed for the safety of the firefighters putting their lives on the line to contain the flames. I’ve also asked for your prayer.

But last night, when I realized it had been a whole day since I prayed, something in me quailed.

Ugh. I don’t feel like praying tonight. Not again.

And that’s exactly how I knew that I needed to keep praying.

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Please Pray for My Torch of a State

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Both a general and a personal request here.

Last spring, after a winter of incredible snowpack, I said to a few friends: “Given this much snow, it’ll be pretty annoying if we have a big fire season this summer.”

Well, guess what.

It hasn’t reached the levels of our 2007 season yet, when you couldn’t see traffic lights three blocks away and ash was drifting out of the sky, but we’re headed that way. One town about an hour southeast of me is being evacuated because of air quality concerns. Every thunderstorm that rolls through is producing lightning fires. It’s that dry. And just last night, the most picturesque parts of Glacier National Park got hit.

Please take a moment today (no, really take a moment, don’t just say you will and then forget) to pray for the fire situation in Montana, as well as the Cascades and all through the Rockies. Please pray for the courage, alertness, and strength of the brave men and women fighting these fires from the ground, from the air, and from the offices supporting them.

Also, a personal request – far less urgent, but if I may…

These fires come just a week before my tight friend and I are preparing for a 50-mile backpacking trip. It’s not just any trip; it’s the first step in a story we’re hoping will culminate in hiking the Continental Divide Trail – a 3,100 stretch of trail spanning the Rockies from Mexico to Canada. We’re building up to that goal, gathering experience, over the course of several years and we hope not to be barred or choked out of next week’s trip by the looming fire problem.

So if you don’t mind, please pray for our trip. Although, by all means, spend far more energy on praying for our firemen.

Whaddya Mean, “Are You a Missionary?”

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soldierEver since I started talking about my recent Czech mission, a number of brothers- and sisters-in-blogging have asked the same question: “Are you a missionary?”

I know what they mean: am I a long-term evangelist. Nope; the trip was only two weeks long (though I’ve returned a few times).

But what I wanted to say (without being rude – I love y’all) was, “Aren’t we all missionaries?”

(Most people, including the folks who have asked me this question, would totally agree with what I’m saying. But that doesn’t mean we can’t discuss it again!)

My church teaches variations of this theme: there’s a certain danger in treating our earthly residence as “home”. It’s the danger of mistaking our true situation. We are all behind enemy lines; none of us are home yet. It’s thinking of this earth as “home” that gets our focus off of heaven; it’s thinking of our personal comfort zone as “home” that causes us to miss opportunities to share the Gospel with those in our workplace, our school, or our street.

I’m as bad as anyone else. My focus are constantly on earthly goals, so much so that I have a hard time dreaming about anything else.

But when I consider thousands of people plunging daily into hell, well, it becomes a burr in my shoe. Hopefully more.

Because it’s actually harder to witness in America, precisely because of the fact that I live here.

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My Mole Scare and What It Taught Me

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A few months ago, I noticed my skin was starting to sport moles.

No, not THAT kind.

mole1

THAT kind.

I read that moles tend to happen in one’s thirties and thought little of it. Perhaps that “I’m Invincible” feeling was still lingering from my teens.

But as the year wore on, one particular mole kept staring up at me from my front right torso, as if to say “I’m important.”

Further research revealed that melanoma is not something to trifle with. It would seem that skin cancer is one of the most treatable cancers if caught early and one of the least treatable if not. I spoke to a couple fortuitously placed church friends and learned that investigating the mole via a “shave biopsy” carried a benefit-to-cost ratio too high to ignore.

Biopsy.

Man. There’s a word I never wanted to be using in my thirties. Or, y’know, ever.

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An Open Question to Christian Singles

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Over the years, we have all received guidance on how to life the Christian single life.

Some of it has been good. Some of it never should have seen the light of day. And there is a great deal, I am growing to suspect, that has yet to be said at all – and very much needs to be.

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Roadside Assistance: Speaking the Truth Out Loud

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Jesus' perspective needed!Tooling along a forest highway in the middle of nowhere a couple years ago, headed to a job interview, my breath catches a little. My eyes have just spotted the engine temperature gauge pointing in an unpleasant direction. I pull over and open the hood. The coolant reservoir is hissing, bubbling and trembling like a Yellowstone geyser.

Perfect. Interview aborted. Hope I can limp the 50 miles back to my mechanic. (Welcome to Montana.)

I get back in and start waiting for the engine to cool down. After five minutes spent listening to the double blinkers (“uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh“), the sweltering heat forces me out of the car and into the shade of a nearby tree.

Standing there, one thought inexorably seeps in: my bank account is going to feel this. Again.

And an answering thought on the heels of the first – harder to put words to, because it’s one of those deep-soul thoughts, more feeling than word.

This is pitiful.

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The Second List Singles Should Make

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listIf you’re single, you’ve probably been advised at some point to make a “list” of qualities you want in a spouse.

If you’re a Christian single, you’ve probably gotten this advice even more often, given that we Christians have added spiritual criteria to consider (must be in the Word, must be committed to church, etc.).

Lists are fun to make; they make that future feel right around the corner. And they’re valuable, with caveats. Having to sit down and ponder what really matters in a partner, what would best fit our soul and personality, and how God might want to sanctify our list – all good stuff.

But there was a pastor I once followed for about a year whose congregation consisted of singles of varying ages, and he suggested this:

Make a second list – of things you can live without.

Like, actually sit down and write that second list with the same pencil and paper.

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Airborne on the Fourth: Why the Cynic Can Still Love America

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cityThe timing of our Czech Republic mission allowed us a rare experience: being 35,000 feet over the United States on the evening of the Fourth of July.

At first, I had guesstimated that we’d be too early and too far north that night to see fireworks.

As the sun set a couple hours out of Chicago, I opened the window and glanced down, and my breath caught. Pinprick flares of multicolored light were visible against the dark land in every direction, as far as the eye could see, intensifying around a small town just to the south. I alerted the others and we stared out with delight. After consulting the onboard computers, we realized that the town to the south could only be Albany, NY. We were seeing the Fourth from the air after all!

Then we looked ahead of us and beheld a massive web of light terminating along a solid line: a coastal city. It was Boston. Where it all began. The tea party, the Boston Massacre, the first clashes at Lexington and Concord. The city obviously knew its history that night (or they were celebrating because I was leaving). The town was ablaze with tiny flashes of light like a Star Wars space battle. And as we flew over the coastline, still more fireworks: cruise ships off the coast were throwing their own displays. It was a sight I’ll not soon forget.

I must confess. Over the years, I’ve grown a bit cynical about the whole America deal.

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