He Never breaks his stare. He sits facing forward nothing moves his gaze other than when someone walks up from behind him through the door. Even then, it is only a slight glance over his shoulder. It's 110 degrees outside the Starbucks and he wears a beanie covering his bald head. His weathered wind worn face and down turned lips match his tan exhausted aviator glasses. He doesn't walk he saunters slowly to the counter to fill his stainless steel coffee cup. He wouldn't be caught dead holding a starbuck's cup in his hand but he was content with dark and strong liquid in his steel cup. If I had not seen him go to the counter I would have assumed it was whiskey. He is clearly over 60 but his shoulders are square and strong, still a formidable force in a fight. Looking at him from behind you would think he was 30 and fresh out of prison, stuck in a cell with nothing to do but push ups. His muscles were not enhanced with steroids, he just had the look of a strong man, every movement is slow and seems calculated. This man looks like a killer.
After a few minutes of awkwardly sitting near this man, trying to look un-weak a middle aged father with his socially awkward kids come walking in. The father looks like a typical nerd. He has an awkward mustache reminiscent of Tom Sellick during the 80's and wears the matching short shorts with a Hawaiin print shirt and big square reading glasses. You can't fault him for this look, no one apparently told him the 80's ended over 20 years ago. But either way you can tell that he is a good provider for his family and well meaning, just completely disconnected from that fact that it is 2011 and that much upper leg being shown on a man in a Hawaiin print shirt is no longer in vogue. The boys 16 or 17 with curly red hair and curly brown hair walk in trailing dad awkwardly through the nearly empty store. Halfway through dad tells them to wait there and they both comply. As the dad walks up the counter, striding forward in all his Magnum PI glory his sons stand awkwardly in the very spot he told them to stand. They are unsure of where to place there hands. In the pockets or out of their pockets, at their side or behind their back. One of the boys points to a cup and mumbles something to the brown haired one who looks at the cup but doesn't move his head so as not to be noticed. There are over 20 chairs available but they sit in none of them because their dad did not tell them they could.
The man just sits, his gaze unchanged as if the annoyingly unmanly youth stand directly in front of him don't exist. I'm not even a biker and I felt compelled to somehow harm them just because it looked so easy. But the biker just looked annoyed, he lives in a world of people whom he rather slap around than speak to. But, there were just too many of us who deserved to have our asses kicked so instead of kicking all of our asses he just slowly stood up and went outside to smoke. He lit the cigarette and set his elbow on the table. He took one slow draw on the cigarette, his hand barely moving at all as it came towards his mouth. The smoke slowly billowed out of his mouth moving as slow and calculated as the man himself.
As I sat and watched him from my leather seat in the corner of Starbucks Pandora played a Ray Lamontagne's song "Lesson Learned" that was reminiscent of an old tragically romantic western song. I envisioned this biker as a young man, happy but tough, losing a love, and becoming the hardened man that sat before me today. I wondered what it would be like to be this old, weathered and angry man who sat before me today. What happened to him that made him who he was today. After he finished his cigarette he came back inside to finish his coffee. He sat near me and I contemplated starting a conversation with him. Just to see what would happen. After a few moments, I gained the necessary courage and asked him if he rode his bike in this kind of weather often. The question was awful but I didn't know where to start. He sat motionless for a good 10 seconds that felt like an eternity then his eyes slowly looked in my direction while his head remained motionless. When his eyes acknowledged my question I realized I should not have spoken. His glance confirmed he would kill me if I spoke again and so I remained silent as he slowly stood and sauntered out the front door to his Harley.
Lesson Learned
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Overcoming Fear
Recently I realized that Fear was playing a major role in my life. I found myself not being able to sleep, waking up at night feeling desperate and stressed out.
Have you ever felt this way?
I don't like to admit it, but, fear makes me feel weak. And who wants to feel weak? Not me, that's for sure! Yet, many times I feel trapped by fear, and therefore trapped by feelings of failure and weakness. When I feel this way, I find myself wanting to retreat away from others towards some familiar place where there is no risk.
But where there is no risk, there is also little gain. And so not risking is not an option because more than I fear weakness, I fear not risking.
Have you ever felt this way?
I don't like to admit it, but, fear makes me feel weak. And who wants to feel weak? Not me, that's for sure! Yet, many times I feel trapped by fear, and therefore trapped by feelings of failure and weakness. When I feel this way, I find myself wanting to retreat away from others towards some familiar place where there is no risk.
But where there is no risk, there is also little gain. And so not risking is not an option because more than I fear weakness, I fear not risking.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
His Name is Will
Today I found myself at Starbucks to take some time to study and pray. I sat in the corner listening to Pandora and enjoying my morning coffee. The cold gray wind whipped through the door as I sat in the corner leather chair, my feet were cold.
A man walked in, he had kind, sad eyes and asked if he could sit in the leather chair next to me. He did not make eye contact with me, and he asked for nothing. I noticed that his hands were shaking and his pants were filthy. I realized, this man is homeless. He is just trying to warm up. So I took out my headphones and asked him his name and if I could buy him a cup of coffee. He looked surprised but said yes. I walked away from all my stuff and purposefully did not look back to see if he was going to run away with my computer and everything in my backpack.
His name is Will and he thanked me. We talked for a few minutes about his life and why he chooses to stay homeless. I was curious, so I think I was asking questions with sincerity, not judgement, and he answered the questions openly. I think he knew I just wanted him to feel warm so he opened up more and told me why he chose not to stay at the mission, even though he was sleeping out in the elements, it snowed all day yesterday.
I had been sitting there for a while and needed to use the restroom. Will had left to go back outside to try and get some money by holding a sign. "Can you help? God Bless" is what his sign read. As I was about to get up, Will came back in. He smiled at me and sat back down in the leather chair. I had placed a gift card in my journal to hold my place and set my journal on my Bible. Again, I left all of my things next to the chair trusting that my things would be safe.
As I came back out from the restroom everything seemed to be in place. Will sat quietly, staring out the window and my journal and Bible sat quietly as well awaiting my return. As I opened my journal I noticed that my gift card was gone. Will stood up and walked out the door. My heart began to sink. I chose to trust this man who had nothing, thinking that because I had shown him kindness, he would not take anything of mine. Slowly I began to check my pockets. Each pocket empty. Will came back in and sat down. In my mind, I began to prepare to ask him if I could have my card back. It is not that I needed the card. It bothered me more that he would take something from me after I had been kind to him.
Will sat there cold and shivering. I looked at him, a small smile of resignation to the cold came onto his face. I leaned forward, as a matter of principle to confront, Will. As I leaned forward, I placed my left hand under my left thigh. I felt the card beneath my leg as I was about to speak.
I think Will just wanted to stay warm. He had done nothing to me. I had convicted him in my heart. Will sat there cold and shivering. I gave him the card, it didn't mean anything to me anymore.
A man walked in, he had kind, sad eyes and asked if he could sit in the leather chair next to me. He did not make eye contact with me, and he asked for nothing. I noticed that his hands were shaking and his pants were filthy. I realized, this man is homeless. He is just trying to warm up. So I took out my headphones and asked him his name and if I could buy him a cup of coffee. He looked surprised but said yes. I walked away from all my stuff and purposefully did not look back to see if he was going to run away with my computer and everything in my backpack.
His name is Will and he thanked me. We talked for a few minutes about his life and why he chooses to stay homeless. I was curious, so I think I was asking questions with sincerity, not judgement, and he answered the questions openly. I think he knew I just wanted him to feel warm so he opened up more and told me why he chose not to stay at the mission, even though he was sleeping out in the elements, it snowed all day yesterday.
I had been sitting there for a while and needed to use the restroom. Will had left to go back outside to try and get some money by holding a sign. "Can you help? God Bless" is what his sign read. As I was about to get up, Will came back in. He smiled at me and sat back down in the leather chair. I had placed a gift card in my journal to hold my place and set my journal on my Bible. Again, I left all of my things next to the chair trusting that my things would be safe.
As I came back out from the restroom everything seemed to be in place. Will sat quietly, staring out the window and my journal and Bible sat quietly as well awaiting my return. As I opened my journal I noticed that my gift card was gone. Will stood up and walked out the door. My heart began to sink. I chose to trust this man who had nothing, thinking that because I had shown him kindness, he would not take anything of mine. Slowly I began to check my pockets. Each pocket empty. Will came back in and sat down. In my mind, I began to prepare to ask him if I could have my card back. It is not that I needed the card. It bothered me more that he would take something from me after I had been kind to him.
Will sat there cold and shivering. I looked at him, a small smile of resignation to the cold came onto his face. I leaned forward, as a matter of principle to confront, Will. As I leaned forward, I placed my left hand under my left thigh. I felt the card beneath my leg as I was about to speak.
I think Will just wanted to stay warm. He had done nothing to me. I had convicted him in my heart. Will sat there cold and shivering. I gave him the card, it didn't mean anything to me anymore.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Pushing Past the Wall
If you met me in the 90's it would have been easy to describe me. Most people would have said, "Aaron plays basketball". Yes, there were other ways people described me as well, but, most people knew me in the context of being in the gym or going to the gym. This was my life as well as the life of all of my closest friends. Basketball is what shaped me, pushed me, and showed me that I could overcome what seemed impossible.
Recently while talking with a friend over coffee I began to see this time of my life in a new light. It was during this time of my life that much of how you would describe Aaron was being shaped. It was during this time of my life that I learned what it meant to push through "the wall". In the context of sports, athletes understand what it means to push through the wall. The wall is the barrier. It is that part of your subconscious that is shouting at your body that you cannot take another step, if you do you will probably die. You can't make it up that hill, you cannot run another wind sprint, you can't handle this.
While thinking about this I remembered what my coach used to say to us while we were thinking we were going to die. Calmly, Coach would as we ran by say, "your not going to die, just breathe." Those words reverberated in our heads as we would pass by. It became a mantra as we would run up and down stairs, back and forth across the court, and as we would leave everything on the floor night after night, game after game. We broke down the wall each time we stepped onto the floor. We pushed ourselves as hard as we could every practice, and with each time we pushed ourselves the wall became smaller and smaller. What seemed impossible the day before became possible today.
The wall was not physical, the wall lived in our minds. The wall wanted to stop us from achieving what we were capable of, and destined for. Blinding us with the desire to quit or walk away because the work was too hard or made us feel too uncomfortable. But, it was through the hard work of not giving up, of continuing to show up for the battle, the run, the game, that the wall became the teacher. I read a quote recently by Richard Rohr, a Franciscan Priest, that stated,
"when the student is ready, the teacher will arrive."
The question is weather or not we are aware of the teacher and which form the teacher has taken to teach us what we need to know. Pain was our teacher, and as Rhor so beautifully put it,
" we dare not get rid of the pain before we have learned what it has to teach us."
In our fear of the pain we place the blame for our hurt on others (coach/parents/spouses ect.), and miss out on what it is teaching us and the opportunity it is giving us to learn something about life on a deep level.
This reminds me of what the Apostle Paul said in Hebrews 12:1,
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us."
During this season of life I remember Coach pointing out that in our school (kindergarten-12th grade) everyone was watching what we were doing. Everyone was seeing us hit the wall, and how we would chose to deal with that moment of pain. Would we give up and stand there in frustration or run back and make up for it on defense? Would we make the extra pass or keep the ball in our hands so that we could be the hero. Would we give our best effort every moment we were on the floor or would we crumble and give up in the heat of the moment, relegating ourselves to failure?
A friend pointed out recently that watching a person compete on the athletic field gives great insight and exposes what is happening in your heart. During a game or a practice I never wanted to be seen as a person who was going to give up or throw in the towel. This made sense to me on the court, I had a sense of pride about pushing into the pain even more whenever I felt like giving up. When you see someone do that in a game it makes sense. Some of my favorite memories of playing were when I wanted to give up, when it hurt to bad and I would ask for a sub and Coach would look me in the eyes and tell me no, keep playing. To this day this scenario is by far what gives me the most joy to see in a game. An individual pushing through the mental wall, hoping for the easy way out, for someone else to take their place, but in that moment, in a physical expression of what is happening inside having to push through.
Recently while talking with a friend over coffee I began to see this time of my life in a new light. It was during this time of my life that much of how you would describe Aaron was being shaped. It was during this time of my life that I learned what it meant to push through "the wall". In the context of sports, athletes understand what it means to push through the wall. The wall is the barrier. It is that part of your subconscious that is shouting at your body that you cannot take another step, if you do you will probably die. You can't make it up that hill, you cannot run another wind sprint, you can't handle this.
While thinking about this I remembered what my coach used to say to us while we were thinking we were going to die. Calmly, Coach would as we ran by say, "your not going to die, just breathe." Those words reverberated in our heads as we would pass by. It became a mantra as we would run up and down stairs, back and forth across the court, and as we would leave everything on the floor night after night, game after game. We broke down the wall each time we stepped onto the floor. We pushed ourselves as hard as we could every practice, and with each time we pushed ourselves the wall became smaller and smaller. What seemed impossible the day before became possible today.
The wall was not physical, the wall lived in our minds. The wall wanted to stop us from achieving what we were capable of, and destined for. Blinding us with the desire to quit or walk away because the work was too hard or made us feel too uncomfortable. But, it was through the hard work of not giving up, of continuing to show up for the battle, the run, the game, that the wall became the teacher. I read a quote recently by Richard Rohr, a Franciscan Priest, that stated,
"when the student is ready, the teacher will arrive."
The question is weather or not we are aware of the teacher and which form the teacher has taken to teach us what we need to know. Pain was our teacher, and as Rhor so beautifully put it,
" we dare not get rid of the pain before we have learned what it has to teach us."
In our fear of the pain we place the blame for our hurt on others (coach/parents/spouses ect.), and miss out on what it is teaching us and the opportunity it is giving us to learn something about life on a deep level.
This reminds me of what the Apostle Paul said in Hebrews 12:1,
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us."
During this season of life I remember Coach pointing out that in our school (kindergarten-12th grade) everyone was watching what we were doing. Everyone was seeing us hit the wall, and how we would chose to deal with that moment of pain. Would we give up and stand there in frustration or run back and make up for it on defense? Would we make the extra pass or keep the ball in our hands so that we could be the hero. Would we give our best effort every moment we were on the floor or would we crumble and give up in the heat of the moment, relegating ourselves to failure?
A friend pointed out recently that watching a person compete on the athletic field gives great insight and exposes what is happening in your heart. During a game or a practice I never wanted to be seen as a person who was going to give up or throw in the towel. This made sense to me on the court, I had a sense of pride about pushing into the pain even more whenever I felt like giving up. When you see someone do that in a game it makes sense. Some of my favorite memories of playing were when I wanted to give up, when it hurt to bad and I would ask for a sub and Coach would look me in the eyes and tell me no, keep playing. To this day this scenario is by far what gives me the most joy to see in a game. An individual pushing through the mental wall, hoping for the easy way out, for someone else to take their place, but in that moment, in a physical expression of what is happening inside having to push through.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
RAW - Real / Authentic / With God
Life is meant to be lived in community and we need to get RAW. I was laughing tonight at the stirring as Nate said to the 6 pm gathering that we need to get RAW in our life groups. I am such a teacher I immediately begin to think of alliterations for the word RAW and here is my best shot:
R- real
A- authentic
W- with God
Totally true Nate...let's get RAW this week in our life groups and in our secret life with Jesus.
R- real
A- authentic
W- with God
Totally true Nate...let's get RAW this week in our life groups and in our secret life with Jesus.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Noah and the Coyotes
This is a recent interview with Noah about his Coyote friends. This has been an unfolding drama over the past few weeks which has garnered much attention in our home as the Coyotes have been calling to Noah and as he has been dealing with the challenges of facing the "call of the wild" on his young life. Recently before this interview we had a few cats in heat taking advantage of the eaves of our house under our bedroom window during a rainstorm. Needless to say it was loud and woke up the boys in the middle of the night. Noah and Toby came into our room and Noah stood up in our bed and said, "my coyotes are calling for me." We didn't get into any details about what the "coyotes" were actually doing at that moment (he may be a little too young at this point) but you catch the drift.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Shepards?
Ok...I have totally hit a wall this week in preparing for Sunday. I have been reading and searching through Luke 2 trying to find an angle on the story of the Birth of Jesus that captures the imagination and is creative and blah blah. Feeling a bit frustrated as I know there is a lot there to land on and at the same time not feeling like God has really put anything epic on my heart to share yet.
Yesterday I heard that the Shepards were probably not 20 something guys with nothing better to do than to hang out with sheep but rather they were probably more like 12-14 year olds and their Dad made them do this like a chore or something. Then last night at 9:45 when I was still driving some of the kids home from Jesus Party I started to have an epiphany. A little annoyed with the conversations happening in the car I started to listen a little closer to the 6 12-14 year old boys in my car ramble on and on about the most random things. He did this, she said that, he never saw it coming, ect. Then I made the connection that angels showed up to these clowns. I imagined these kids in a field watching sheep and shooting the bull with each other. Oh, crap! I think I just got my inspiration for what was happening.
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