Holding a grudge is like drinking poison hoping the other person will die.

- Unknown

A great illustration of why it is so bad for US when we don’t let things go.

One day recently, I found myself laying on the floor in Sydney’s room listening as she taught me in her school. There’s not much cuter than watching your seven year-old daughter hold a pointer in one hand while she guides you through a series of questions and answers. She’d point to a map and ask, “What state is this?” I’d answer correctly, of course. Then it was onto the alphabet, and even though she mixed the order up (like any good teacher would), I knew all 26 letters.

Finally, it was the math portion. Simple problems came first. 8+3, 2+1+4, 10+10. I was on fire! Then she smiled a smile that said she was going to really try to stump me, and she said, “One thousand plus 200.” As soon as she said it, she looked at me and grinned. I said, “Ooh, that’s a tough one. Let me think a second.” She waited. I “thought.” When I felt that I’d taken long enough to be convincing, I gave her my answer.

“1,200.”

She just kind of looked at me, like she didn’t quite know what to say. Eventually, she kind of mumbled “that’s right” as if she wasn’t really sure if it was. I pressed her a bit when I smiled and asked if she was sure I’d gotten it right. Knowing she was in a tough spot, her face lit up with that “okay, Dad, you got me” smile that melts me and she laughed when she said, “I don’t know! I haven’t learned that yet!”

Later, I couldn’t get that innocent exchange out of my mind, and it occurred to me that it is eerily similar to the dialogue the church often has with the culture around us. We play as if we have all the answers, but at some point they catch us. They find us asking them questions as if we have the answers, but with a bit of pressing, it becomes painfully obvious that we have asked them to answer questions that we ourselves haven’t even learned the answers to yet.

When Michael Jackson turned 30, Oprah Winfrey asked him, “You’re 30. What do you know for sure?” I don’t remember his answer, because I was too amazed at the simple brilliance of the question, and how the answer is more likely to be a short list versus a long one. And that’s okay, as long as the short list contains the most important answers.

Paul told Timothy to continue in what he had become convinced of. Paul was convinced that nothing could separate him for the love of God (Romans 8:38-39), and I have found that to be a touchstone truth for me, too. I’ve learned through life that I can be convinced that my God will never leave me, that He will never turn His back on me (Hebrews 13:5) and that there is always grace, even if I feel that the sin in my life is too big for it (Romans 5:20).

I’m also convinced that if we would spend more time living out what we know and less time trying to pretend to know everything, that the culture around us would find itself asking us questions about what we’ve learned instead of trying to catch us in what we haven’t.

And who knows? The passion and the honesty in our answers may be what helps them decide to come to school with us.

Last Saturday, I blew my daughter’s mind. I had finished my long run, Wendy was fixing a brunch that eventually became lunch, and we were both on the second pot of coffee. It was pretty typical eating conversation around the table and one by one we started to finish and leave. Soon, it was just me and Sydney, and we were both finishing the last of the pancakes. I had put butter and sugar on mine since we were low on maple syrup, and Sydney had gone with the cane syrup, which everyone in the family likes but me.

It’s important for you to know that Wendy absolutely LOVES cane syrup. I don’t. It’s way too thick, tastes funky and looks like motor oil, so it is out as a pancake topping in my book. So you can imagine the look on my face when Sydney held up a piece covered in the stuff and said, “Here.”

Now, I’ve eaten stuff that I wasn’t crazy about so that my children get the joy of seeing me try something they “fixed.” Shoot, just this week-end I gave my cup of peanut butter and chocolate ice cream from Baskin Robbins to Sydney and ate her cup of cotton candy ice cream because she ended up not liking what she’d gotten. I think I have a pretty good track record of taste-bud-denial, but you’ve got to make a stand somewhere, and for me, that line is pretty clearly seen in front of a bottle of cane syrup. So, in my best “Father Knows Best” voice, I said no to Sydney.

Here response took me by surprise. “But, it’s mom’s favorite.”

Ooh, I wasn’t expecting that. I tried the “give it to her straight approach.”

“Well, I know, honey. Mom loves that kind, but I don’t.”

“You love Mom, but you don’t love her syrup??” Sydney was obviously struggling to process this world-shaking revelation.

“That’s right,” I said. I watched her forehead crinkle a bit, and it took what felt like hours for her to finally come up with her response, and the only way she could make sense of it all was with 3 simple words:

“Well, that’s weird.”

The more I thought about it, the more I have to agree with her. It just makes sense that if we love someone, we’d love the things that they do, too. I do realize that that’s not going to happen here on earth. After all, there will be Michigan and Ohio State fans that marry, Republicans and Democrats, Devils and Tarheels. But think about this: on a supernatural level, on the level where a powerful and merciful God can change the heart of a man, it only makes sense that if we love God, we’d love the things He loves, too.

We would be all about mercy, and justice, and the redemption of mankind to His arms. We wouldn’t be able to get enough of His people, His presence, or His purposes. We would stop liking what He doesn’t, and start giving ourselves totally to what He’s committed to. To borrow a popular poker phrase, we’d be all in for the things of our Father.

It doesn’t happen overnight, and it doesn’t come naturally. It takes time and commitment, but it is an amazing, transforming process, and in the end our hearts are one with our Father’s, and the world will no longer be able to look at the way we live our lives and respond with “well, that’s weird.”

And the best part? I still don’t have to eat cane syrup.

In case you haven’t noticed, airlines charge for almost any baggage now. They charge for the first checked luggage, then the second, now some may even charge for the carry-on. Won’t be long now and they’ll say that both of our arms are carry-ons and they’ll charge for that, too. I guess then we really would be paying an arm and a leg, huh? At any rate, the point here is that baggage has always come with a fee, even long before the airlines tried to capitalize on it. In fact, Saul almost paid the most expensive baggage fee in history.

A little background on our passage may help set the stage for the verse above. By the time we get to this point, Israel has decided that God needs some help with his country and has asked for a king, Saul has been anointed as that first king, and his coronation ceremony is in full swing. Samuel has just gotten up in front of the crowd and has introduced King Saul to his country. As the praise team hit the highest point of musical energy, Samuel proclaimed, “Ladies and Gentlemen! Here’s…your…King…SAUL!!!!” The spotlights probably went crazy, darting in and out and around the crowd, before finally coming to rest on the entrance where Saul should have been standing and taking in all the applause. Everything was perfect, except for the fact that Saul wasn’t there.

Naturally, this raised a few questions. Most noticeably, “Where’s the king??” And that is where our verse picks up the story. The people asked God if Saul had even shown up yet, and the Lord’s response was that the freshly anointed king – the man who stood head and shoulders above anyone else in the nation – had indeed come, but was now cowering in the baggage.

We could get into all kinds of discussions about whether or not it was the perfect will of God for Israel to even have a king (umm, it wasn’t), but let’s at least admit that Saul was most definitely God’s choice to be the first one. In fact, 1 Samuel 10:1 said that Saul had been anointed over the Lord’s own inheritance! That is a high calling, and yet even after countless events that could only be explained as God confirming His hand on Saul, the man who would be king is hidden in the baggage, hesitant to take his place in God’s plan.

Now that is a high baggage fee, and if we’re not careful, we’ll pay it, too. Our baggage continually haunts us and taunts us, trying to convince us that we’re not ready for the very place in God’s plan that He has prepared us for (Ephesians 2:10). I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of paying such a high price for carrying my baggage, and instead of looking around for another airline, I think maybe leaving the baggage behind and trusting God on the flight is my best option.

Finally, I’m truly free to move about the country, and I don’t even need Southwest Airlines to take me there. Want to come along?

I had decided to run Richmond SunTrust Marathon as my first almost a year ahead of time. It wasn’t because Richmond is that special, but rather because the date was. The race would be run on November 14, which was my brother’s birthday and would have been his 40th if he hadn’t passed in 2003. I went all out and made my family custom tees that matched my custom race shirt.

Race shirt front:

Back:

We had a bit of a celebration the night before in Williamsburg (where we were staying) and I gave them all their shirts and then we shared stories and memories about Stephen and talked about how excited he’d have been if he were with us. It was emotional for sure, but encouraging. I thought a lot about those stories during the race the next day.

I hit the sack pretty early, and was up a little before 5 so I could eat and drink some coffee before my brother-in-law drove me the 45 minutes into Richmond. Once we parked, it really started hitting me that I was about to run a marathon. Nerves and excitement met with an overwhelming need to hit the john, so off I went to stand in the long lines at the port-o-potties.

My family arrived closer to the start of the race, and we had time for a quick picture before it was time for me to go find my corral and get ready. I was a bit cold with my shorts and short sleeve shirt, but I knew I’d warm up once the race got underway. Highs were projected to be near 60 with 95% humidity.

I stood in the corral next to a woman who was running her 7th marathon and we chatted briefly before the national anthem was sung. I thought I’d cry a lot during the race as I thought about my brother and my mother (she passed 20 days before my brother), but the only time I did was as I shuffled toward the start line. It was an awesome, overwhelming feeling that I’ll never forget, and then it was over because it was time to run.

I love this shot at the start. I felt like a rock star with all the cameras, but that poor woman in front of me looks to be in for a long day.

I had determined to go out easy and just enjoy myself, and that’s what I did. My only real goal was finishing, although I wanted to break 5 hours for sure, and would be thrilled if I got close to 4:30. I had put 2 gels in my pack and decided I’d walk through every 2 miles at the water stations.

The first 8 miles were pretty flat except for a large hill at the end of the first mile. There were plenty of people on the streets cheering us on, and I felt great. I saw my family for the first time just before the 7 mile marker. It was an awesome little downhill into the intersection of Cary Street and River Road and I couldn’t help smiling as I scanned the crowd looking for them. I found them at the front of the long line of supporters, holding their homemade signs and shaking the little hand clappers. In my mind I knew I had 2 more of these Party Zones waiting for me before I was finished. As the race went on, I cherished these sections.

My daughter and in-laws:

My time at the 7th mile marker was 1:11:38. My average pace to this point was 10:14 and I was right on schedule to break 4:30. Plus, I felt awesome.

After the first Party Zone we crossed the Hugenot Bridge and then took the exit ramp down to the left onto Riverside Drive. I took my first gel here at the mile 8 water station. The next 2 miles were beautiful as we ran alongside the James River. It was a nice change of scenery from the downtown section we’d been running, and now there were trees with changing leaves and a nice view of the city skyline off to the left past the river. I ran this section behind a couple ladies who were chatting about their church’s Bible study, and it took my mind off how much farther we still had to go.

I have to say that in all my long training runs, I never hurt, but I did really struggle with boredom, so every conversation, band, or cheer that could distract me was a welcome friend. Hearing those ladies helped me reach mile 10 where we took a sharp turn to the right and climber uphill to the main road at mile 11. I must have been really concentrating, because I found out later that some of my family literally passed 10 feet away from me in the car yelling at me, but I never heard them! I did hear them on the stretch from mile 11 to 13, though, as we were both headed toward the next Party Zone (they beat me, of course, since they had a car!).

When I got to the Party Zone just before mile 13, I was thrilled to be halfway and still feeling great. My family was scattered throughout the crowd and so there were plenty of high fives to get me through this section. I can’t imagine running a marathon and not having family there to cheer you on. They were a huge inspiration for me.

Yep, I was having a blast!

Halfway point was just past the Party Zone, and my time at the split was 2:13:47, average pace of 10:13. I started thinking about how great it was going to be to break 4:30 in my first marathon, especially since the pace I was running felt so comfortable and I was getting plenty of water at every stop. I felt like I could easily maintain the pace the rest of the way, and maybe even be able to pick it up a bit towards the end.

Mile 14 was huge because I had finally reached the part of the race when they would be giving out gels and junk food, and I knew that meant I had a little bit of a “countdown” to track my way to the finish. A gel at 14, junk food at 16, see the family at the Party Zone just after 19, another gel at 21, more junk food at 22 and then only 4 miles to go. Piece of cake, right? I had no idea what was waiting for me.

The stretch between mile 15 and 16 included crossing over the Robert E. Lee Bridge back into downtown Richmond. I had mentally prepared for this stretch because all the pre-race research I’d done said this was the toughest section because of the strong headwind that smacks you in the face the entire mile. It was even stronger on race day because Tropical Storm Ida had passed through the day before and her remnants were hanging around to run the race with us! This bridge was brutal and felt like it would never end, but it did and there was that first junk food stop at mile 16 for my reward. I grabbed a small cup of gummy bears and learned quickly that they are tough to chew when you’re tired. Still, my time at mile 16 was 2:43:12, which meant my pace had dropped another second, down to 10:12/mile. Having conquered the bridge and thinking the worst was behind me, I smiled and turned left onto Main Street.

“Oh, crap.”

I don’t know if the founding fathers of Richmond put the hills on Main Street just to demoralize me, but it sure felt that way. Somehow I had missed this in my planning, and the 200-foot rise in less than a tenth of a mile really caught me off-guard. That was followed by a nearly 600-foot drop over the next 2 tenths which then turned into another 600-foot rise over the next mile. By the time I turned right off of Main Street just past mile 18, I wasn’t sure what had hit me, but suddenly this race didn’t feel so easy anymore. My overall pace had dropped to 10:16. 4:30 was still possible, but suddenly it didn’t seem nearly as exciting as surviving.

After the turn off Main Street, we headed downhill into the Party Zone just past mile 19. I was so thankful for the downhill because it helped me get my stride back so I could look somewhat strong when I saw my family again. This was the last time I’d see them until the end, and I needed the encouragement that seeing them would give me. This was the only time Party Zone that I stopped for, and I bent down to get a kiss from my daughter before hugging my wife. I remember whispering in her ear, “What was I thinking?” She laughed, not realizing that I was seriously questioning why I ever thought I could run a marathon.

After seeing my family the course took one more quick up and down before the race settled into flat 6 miles before the downhill finish. I crossed mile 20 with a time of 3:27:11. This was the longest I’d run in training, and my average pace of 10:22 was almost 30 seconds faster than my long run paces. Even though I was tired, I was thrilled with how well the race had gone up to this point.

I walked through the water station at mile 20 as planned, but for the first time, running again after the walk break was difficult. This would be the beginning of 4 miles of hell. I have to say that the fatigue wasn’t so hard to deal with, because I had prepared myself mentally that a marathon would be tiring, but the cramps completely caught me by surprise.

For miles 21-24, I literally couldn’t run more than 200 feet before it felt like every muscle in both legs was going to seize up. I’d walk until they relaxed somewhat and then I’d try again. I did this little run/walk dance for the next 4 miles, still taking a gel at mile 21 and water every mile, too. The junk food stop at mile 22 gave me more gummy bears, but they were even harder to chew at this point. A warm was cloth at mile 23 helped me re-focus, and it was at that point I determined that I was going to finish, even if it meant walking to the finish from there.

For whatever reason – mental or maybe the gel and gummy bears juiced me physically – when I passed the mile 24 marker, I never walked again. Now, I wasn’t breaking any speed records, but I was able to run without cramping and I actually felt somewhat comfortable in my stride. I ran miles 25 and 26 at 11:49 and 11:48. Not blazing, but a whole lot better than the 14s and 15s I had just pulled the four miles earlier!

The last .2 of the race was downhill and the crowd on both sides of the street was crazy loud. By now I had taken my brother’s bandana off my wrist and I was clutching it tightly in my hand as I began my final push towards the finish. Along the way I passed little groups of my family and yelled a loud, “Yeah!” at them as I’d pass by, pumping my fist and picking up speed. I think of all that happened during the race – and especially after four miles of cramps – I was most proud of the fact that I sprinted down the chute at an 8:49 pace.

I finished strong at 4:48:54.

My brother and I were both smiling.

I have an ugly yard. I guess I can say that and not hurt anyone’s feelings because I’m the guy who takes care of it (and I use that phrase loosely). Our yard is the final resting place for the bad plants, kind of like The Green Mile except that, well, there’s not a lot of green. Bushes last only a few seasons, there are rocks embedded in the lawn, and the only things that seem to flourish are weeds. It is, as I said, ugly.

But every now and then I look at my yard and see beauty. Typically it happens once a year, on the day of the first mowing of the season. I start with a yard full of sticks and leftover leaves from the fall and end with a yard that is clean and a little more green than the brown it was before I mowed. I edge and trim it and then blow the clippings away and it always strikes me how much just cleaning away the junk can make even my ugly yard look good.

Our faith is like that, and Easter is the perfect reminder of it. We spend so much effort and energy trying to keep covered up what we feel is ugly, and yet our Lord knows that the first step towards beauty is the uncovering of the ugly. Martha knew that, and tried to warn Jesus that moving the stone would release a bad smell, but Jesus wasn’t buying it. If He really is the resurrection and the life, then not only can He bring life where there was death, but He can handle all the old smells that try to linger around, too. He told Martha that if she truly believed, she would see the glory of God.

What shows His glory? The dead live, the old is new, and there is no longer any hint of the previous ugly condition. Hope springs eternal and in a moment, the uncovering of what we fear is the most ugly gives way to a beauty and a hope that we could never have imagined.

On this Resurrection Day, know that He has uncovered the myth behind the enemy’s greatest tactic: the ugliness of death is no longer to be feared because even in that, our Lord brings life. He is the victor, and finally, I am made new.

Now, if I could just sprinkle some of that on my lawn…

There are a bazillion types of bushes. Tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones, the kind with 2 birds in them and the kind that rule over the free world – twice. Bushes aren’t rare, and that was surely the case on the backside of the desert for Moses. But one that burns and is never burned up? Now that was enough to catch his attention, and typically that’s what we teach about from this passage. Preacher man gets up and says that God called Moses from within a burning bush to go and deliver His people from slavery and we all shout, “Amen!” After all, that is what the story says, right?

Well, yes. I was trying to build this dramatic pause, but the truth is that the passage says exactly what the preacher man preaches. Of course, if you look at that burning bush from a different angle, I think you might see another question in it, one that made me squirm a bit when I heard God ask it. Ready?

{There’s that dramatic pause I was looking for.}

Here it is: if God got Moses’ attention by burning a bush so that He could call Moses to something great, how do you suppose He plans on getting the attention of others around you so He can call them to something great? That’s right. He’s planning on burning you up, too. While I was reading this passage earlier, I had to ask myself if people ever saw my life burning for Christ and felt compelled to mover closer to investigate? Ouch.

The challenge for us all, then, is to become “this strange thing” that God uses to call the world to Himself. He has a plan for them all, and it begins with a fire that burns us up. Like the guys in National Treasure lighting a torch to find their way in the cave, am I willing to be the flame that helps others around me see Him more clearly? On my worst days, I want no part of that plan, but on my best days, I think my answer is that I hope so. I hope that He finds me willing to sit on the backside of the desert waiting for the time that He strikes the match and throws it on me. If I am patient, it will be the perfect time – the time that God deems most profitable for His purpose and glory.

Scary? Sure. But at least I know who holds the match, and if I trust Him, it makes all the difference. I can trust that He knows when to burn me and that I won’t be totally destroyed in the process. In fact, my life will serve it’s purpose by providing what others need to find theirs. I’ll be the fire that they sing around as they make s’mores, and isn’t that what Paul meant when he said that he was being poured out like a drink offering? Sure it was.

So light the fire, Lord, people around us have destinies to discover, callings to fulfill, and…

…marshmallows to roast.

I heard that what I’m about to tell you actually made it into a message preached by a friend of mine this past Sunday, so I thought I’d better write and about it and come clean: I fixed our toilet. I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in…

Now, as ordinary as that statement may be for some people who are considerably more handy than I am, when the words “I fixed our toilet” come out of my mouth, it is an extraordinary statement, the kind that causes people to pass out or place their hands over their mouths in disbelief. But I did, in fact, fix our toilet. It had been running constantly for a few days and I decided it was the perfect opportunity for me to try my hand at home repair because the worst that could happen was me calling our plumber to fix what I couldn’t. Sure there would be the shame of knowing that he knew that I couldn’t “man up” and fix something listed as “so easy a caveman can do it” at do-it-yourself websites, but we’ve shared that awkward moment before. Many times, actually.

A quick trip to a local hardware store got me what I needed, and I was off. There were a few times that Wendy came back and peeked in on me and smiled that “look at the way he’s trying” smile, but I shook it off! I would not be distracted until the last piece was in place, and when it was, I turned the water back on and flushed. It worked. Skeptical, I checked the floor to see if there was any water leaking. The floor was dry! I flushed it again…and again… and again. And every time I flushed, I smiled. In fact, for the rest of that week-end, I intentionally used that toilet so that I could flush it, and every time it flushed, I smiled.

(Before we get to the main point, let me assure you that I do not have some Pavlovian dog thing going on that makes me smile when toilets are flushed. That would be weird.)

As I told my friend later, it just felt good to be the fixer. It made me proud to know that I had saved our family the money of a professional service call and that it actually worked better when I was finished. But what I didn’t tell my friend is what I thought about later on when I wondered if this is also how God feels when He looks at those of us who were broken and in need of His repair. Is my fixed life one that causes Him so much joy that He can’t stop admiring His handiwork in me? And as odd as it sounds, does He just flush me over and over and over again so that He can see the new me, the one that actually works the way He originally intended? I think He just might, and if that’s what it takes to show off His grace to others who are broken, than I say flush away!

In the end, it’s all worth it to see Him smile.

Okay, that title’s a bit misleading, because today doesn’t really mark the end of Tim Tebow. He’s still got one more college football game in him. But it does mark the end of 2009 and Tim did wear this verse on his eye black during his last game and this verse does contain the last words Jesus spoke to His disciples before the end of His ministry and the beginning of the end on the cross. Simple enough? No? Let me ‘splain a bit more.

While I was watching Alabama stomp Florida a couple weeks ago in the SEC Championship game, I noticed that Tim had John 16:33 on his eye black, and when I looked it up I thought it was a curious choice. Did he know that he was going to face trouble from the Tide in the game? Had God spoken to him in the locker room and given him a glimpse of the next 40 minutes he’d face in the game? Whatever the reason, it was quite prophetic, and I’m sure at some point he must have thought that it was good to know he had peace, even though he didn’t have a championship.

But this isn’t really about Tim Tebow. It’s about the rest of us and how we can take these final words of Jesus on the final day of the year and move into the new year with our eyes wide open to what this world has to offer and the peace that Jesus gives us in it. Will we face things in 2010 that are painful? Yes. Confusing? Yes. Bigger than us? Yes. Bigger than God and the peace He gives? Absolutely not!

Now, it you really want to make a statement in 2010, why not wear some eye blacks like Tim?

Go on. You know you want to!