Finding new life in Baghdad by the Bay

Back to Zion

Last week Saturday I set out on my third journey to the nation of Israel.  My first visit happened in the summer of 1992, at the wee age of 19; the second took place in September of 2005, about three months after moving back to Iowa from San Francisco, and now the third, a little more than two years after moving to Seattle.

Each trip has had its own distinctive flavor; this one could be marked by brevity (one week, vs. 9 weeks in 1992 and a month in 2005), but really two words come to mind - shabbat (rest) and shalom (peace).  Now the first in particular might seem odd in light of all the things I've done in the last five days, but just getting away from the day-in day-out of the Monday through Friday hamster wheel for a week feels like a major holiday.

The trip certainly started out a bit bumpy.  My route to Tel Aviv took me through Paris via Air France, and  my departing flight from Seattle was going to be just over an hour delayed.  That was unfortunately just enough to make me miss my connecting flight at Charles de Galle Airport, meaning I would have nine hours in Paris with nothing to do. 

Well, maybe nothing to do for someone else, but I decided to take advantage of the situation and do a bit of sightseeing.  At the airport train station I bought a one-day transit pass, and went to see the Eiffel Tower and Palace of Versailles.  The weather wasn't exactly co-operative (gale force winds and driving rain), but I didn't really care - I'd wanted to see the Eiffel Tower since I was a kid, and finally got my chance.  It looked like... a big metal tower!  Certainly nothing to make my heart skip a beat or anything, but still worth it. 

The Palace of Versailles was incredible, although unfortunately due to my schedule I spent more time waiting in line than I did actually exploring the palace.  Still, I'm glad I went, and it really made me stop to ponder - how one man (Louis XIV) could command such glory, honor, and wealth, and how Jesus, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, came to earth as a humble servant.

Eventually I was on a plane to Tel Aviv (delayed, of course), arriving in Israel around 1am, bleary-eyed but happy.  My dear friend and former roommate from San Francisco was waiting to meet me, and we chatted away on the 45-minute or so drive up to Jerusalem.

Now my previous visits to Israel had always been in mid- to late-summer, so I was used to clear skies, blazing sunshine and hot temperatures.  This time I was greeted with clouds and pouring rain.  Fortunately I came prepared, but it still was a bit of a shock!  Day 1 in Jerusalem I got situated in the morning, then walked to the Old City with my friend for lunch at a place on the Via del Rosa called Lina.  It had, hands-down, the BEST hummus I've ever tasted - it was prepared right there, fresh, and served warm with piping-hot pita bread.  We added a plate of Lebna (yogurt-cheese with tomatoes and cucumbers) and had one filling meal. 

I then set out to tour the Holy Sepulchre, the traditional site of Jesus' burial and resurrection.  It reminded me of a quasi-Christian version of the temples I visited in Cambodia - idols, idols everywhere!  Don't get me wrong, from an artistic and architectural standpoint it was impressive, but I couldn't help but wonder how the church we read about in Acts 2 had come to this - shrines, incense, and kissing stones.  Monday night was capped with a visit to a local restaurant, where my friend and his wife got to catch me up on their lives, and I was able to do the same.

Tuesday turned out to be an un-official day of rest.  I woke up to the sound of pouring rain, and didn't really feel like getting out of bed.  When I finally did, I made breakfast, did some reading and praying, and then went back to bed again!  I finally got up around 11:30am, and walked to the Old City to meet my friend for lunch, this time at a hip Israeli sandwich shop in the brand-new mall.  After lunch I walked down to the 24/7 house of prayer, and spent some time in fellowship with Jesus. 

At 2:30pm I met up with my friend, and we headed back to his house to get ready for dinner that night, a big gathering of all his co-workers and their families.  We must have had 15+ people - adults and kids - packed into the apartment, but the evening was a lot of fun and the food (turkey kabobs with a lemon/garlic/olive oil marinade) was fantastic!  At the end of the evening, my friend hooked up his rappelling gear in the living room to teach me some basic skills in preparation for our planned trip to Qumran the next day.  Once the kids saw how much fun I was having, they had to get in on the action too.  My favorite moment was watching a 2-year-old girl squeal with delight as her daddy helped her down to the floor.

Wednesday morning I awoke to clear blue skies and abundant sunshine - just the forecast we'd be hoping for!  My friend and I packed up our gear, made lunches, and headed out the door, arriving at Qumran at about 8:45am.  Our plan was to hike to the top of the canyon, then scramble down until we reached the spot where anchors had been installed for rappelling.  The scenery was breathtaking - the Dead Sea to the east, and the Judean Desert to the north, south, and west.  We even ran into a few ibex (like deer with horns that curl up) bounding over the hills.

Soon enough we were descending through the canyon, chatting and occasionally stopping to soak up the fascinating rock formations.  When it was all said and done, I actually found this part more challenging than the rappels, because we had to scramble in reverse down some pretty tricky spots - something I absolutely hate! 

Our first rappel would be one of the biggest, with a 100-foot sheer drop to the floor of the canyon below.  I was a bit hesitant at the start, but thanks to my lesson the night before, once I got over the lip of the cliff I found rappelling to be quite easy and a lot of fun.  Unfortunately I had one minor disaster - I wasn't thinking and put my camera in the wrong pocket of my pants.  When I leaned back to descent out it went, its plastic exoskeleton hitting the rocks below with full force.  At least I was able to salvage the memory card and all the pictures I'd taken up to that point!

We thought there were going to be a total of four rappels, but it turned out there were actually six.  It didn't really matter as we both were having a great time.  At the end of the sixth rappel we had to scramble out of the canyon up some very loose rock, which was in the full heat of the day and not so much fun, but thankfully it didn't last long.  After resting a bit and wolfing down our lunch (pita bread with peanut butter, granola bars, pistachio nuts, and yes, my favorite, a big chunk of halva!), we hopped back in the car to our next destination, the Nahal Prat nature reserve just outside of Jerusalem.

Now I have to be honest - on the drive to Nahal Prat I was a bit nervous, as we were officially inside the West Bank.  To get to the park we had to drive through a Jewish settlement and several gates, which at least made me feel a bit more secure.  Once we got the park, I think both my friend and I immediately found ourselves lost in the surroundings, lush green foliage around a shimmering clear stream running through a spectacular canyon.  Sadly, the park closed that day at 4pm, so we really only had about an hour to explore.  Not ones to back away from a challenge, we slung our packs on and headed out on a quest to find a decent swimming hole.

At exactly our designated turn-around time of 3pm, we found just that - a wonderful place to swim underneath a small waterfall surrounded by wild mint.  The smell of mint in the air was truly magical as we immersed in the cool, refreshing water.  We then double-timed it on the way back, dodging the fresh-water crabs on the trail as we went.

On our way out we had a couple young Israelis - one of them a soldier - ask us to give them a lift back to Jerusalem.  My friend was glad to oblige, and I was happy to be driving through the West Bank with an M-16 in the back seat!  Thanks to traffic the trek home went quite slow once we got to the outskirts of the city, but this created a perfect opportunity for my friend to share the gospel in Hebrew with our guests. 

Back at the house, both of us were completely exhausted and went to bed early.  I fell asleep right away at 8pm, but woke up again at around 11pm and couldn't sleep.  What to do?  I spent some time praying, then read a book until I fell back asleep again. 

Today was my commando-tour of Jerusalem day.  I hadn't intended it to be that, but it just sort of worked out that way.  In the space of seven hours, I:

• Visited the Rockefeller Museum (free, and a must-see.  Fascinating pieces of archeology from about 10,000 B.C. to 500 A.D.)
• Power-walked to the top of the Mount of Olives
• Zipped through the Garden of Gethsemane (I've been there twice before, hence the reason I felt no need to linger)
• Spent some time at the garden tomb, a popular site for evangelicals visiting Jerusalem.  Although most likely not the actual tomb of Jesus, you at least get a much better sense for what it would have looked like, not to mention a far more reflective space than the insanity of the Holy Sepulchre.
• Went back to Lina for lunch - fresh pita and a big bowl of warm, fresh hummus with pine nuts
• Meandered up north a bit to the neighborhood where I stayed in 2005, and a quick walk through the Jewish open-air market called the Shuk.
• Moved over to the Knesset, the Israeli parliament, for a tour at 1:45pm in English.
• Headed down to the Shrine of the Book, home to the Dead Sea Scrolls and a giant scale model of Jerusalem during the time of Jesus

Now I'm back at my friends' apartment, resting and waiting for dinner to start.  Tomorrow is Friday, which is the Israeli version of Saturday.  I plan to do some real shopping in the Shuk, and hopefully pick up a few souvenirs. 

Comfort

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  (II Cor 2:3,4)

I love being active.  Ask just about anyone who knows me well, and they'll probably say it is one of my defining characteristics.  My love for the outdoors - camping, backpacking, and hiking - was a huge factor in deciding to move to Seattle.

Running is without a doubt my favorite activity.  I've done it regularly for the past 17 years, and it has served as a time to clear my mind, ponder life, and fellowship with Jesus.  In fact, I'd say that slipping on a pair of Asics and heading out the door went beyond activity and to a certain extent was part of my identity.

So to claim the past four months have been interesting would be a bit of an understatement.  Actually, it goes back even further, probably to March of this year.  That was when I hit a big bump while snowboarding, and felt something pull in my left knee.  A couple weeks later I slipped on a log while backpacking and jammed that same knee on the way down.  The pain started then - mild, manageable - but during a run about a week later became excruciating. 

After several months of physical therapy, the knee got better.  I even managed to run the Seattle Rock 'n Roll half marathon, and in a great time to boot (Just under 1 hour 40 minutes).  Then disaster struck - back in Iowa over the 4th of July I was helping my brother move, and with bare feet stepped on a sharp rock in the basement (concrete floor) with my bare left foot.  This set off a case of plantar fasciitis that has progressively gotten worse, and now spread to my right foot as well.  I suppose hiking the rest of the summer didn't help much (although, in my defense, my doctor told me I should keep hiking and finish out the season - I was the one suggesting I should quit!), but I'm going on close to 4 weeks since my last hike and the pain has actually intensified instead of getting better.

Pain has become a constant companion.  This was something I expected at the age of say 66, not 36, so it has come as a bit of a shock to the system.  Walking hurts.  Standing for more than a few seconds hurts, which means baking, my other favorite hobby, now also involves a lot of pain.  Chasing my 4-year-old nephew really hurts - but I do it because hearing him giggle and scream with delight makes my heart melt.  

The Bible is full of reminders that this life will be full of sufferings, including the physical decay of our bodies.  Fortunately we live with the hope of redemption, and much better things to come (Romans 8:18).  What then do we do with suffering?  How do we handle the aches and pains, both to our body and our soul?

I read a devotional in September that really hit home on this issue.  In closing, it said, "God does not comfort us so that we'll be comfortable; we are comforted by God so that we might be comforters."  That concept turns my default heart attitude towards God on its head.  I come to God and cry out, "Father, please fix my problems so I can go back to having the happy life I once had!"  Now, there is nothing wrong with coming to God with our problems, and he tells us to petition him for our needs, and specifically to pray for healing!  However, if the focus gets stuck on MY pain, and MY life, and I ignore the pain and suffering of those around me, then something is wrong. 

It would have been one thing for Jesus to simply pity the poor and sick who thronged to his side everywhere he went, the flannel graph Jesus who always wears a brilliant white robe, has long flowing hair, and never gets dirty.  That's not the Jesus we meet in the Bible; instead, we see a man who had compassion, which in the original Greek literally means "to have the bowels yearn (in other words, from the very depths of his being)."  He got cold, was hungry, had people tell lies about him, and experienced rejection and abandonment.  The shortest verse in the Bible says so much about him, "Jesus wept."  He relates to us because he was one of us, fully human in every way it means to be human, with one important distinction - he was without sin.

I can look at this season of pain in many ways, but I'm pretty much convinced God has been using this time to get my attention and see that the Kingdom does not revolve around me and my happiness.  It has also helped me recognize once again that the things of this world truly are fleeting, and that sooner or later no matter what we do - whether exercise or healthy eating or doctors or therapists or about a million other things - they will be gone.  Then the moment of truth will arrive; how did I live my life for you Lord?

Pain can make us bitter and resentful, or it can open our hearts to see the bigger picture, and reach out with love to those who are also suffering.  It's an education I've just started, but one I'm eager to continue and apply as I grow in my walk with Jesus.

Health Scare

Yesterday I had a good talk on the phone with a friend in California who finds himself very much caught in the cross-hairs of our current health care debate.  A number of years ago he was crossing the street when a chemically-enhanced individual hit him going about 50 mph.  This fine human being of course had no insurance.  My friend was not supposed to live, but God had other plans, and with a little (or a lot) of help from our friends in the medical profession, he got back on his feet.  At the time he had a great insurance plan with one tiny asterisk - a lifetime total benefit of $2,000,000.  When my partner went to the cardiac ICU six years ago, the bill was about $25,000/day, so you can see where this is going.  Soon enough he hit the lifetime cap - in his 30's no less - and found himself with no insurance and a mounting black hole of medical debt.

I've remained largely on the sidelines during this whole national debate, but I do have strong feelings on a number of issues, and thought I would share them (in no particular order):

• I do not believe that health care is a "right," or, at the very least, feel that if we are going to call it a right, we must also add that health care is a responsibility.  A huge amount of health care dollars goes towards preventable disease that is tied to one thing - B-E-H-A-V-I-O-R.  The government can't make people healthier if they have no interest in being part of the process.
• Our insurance regulations are ridiculous.  Why can't people buy insurance that is good anywhere in the United States?
• While I don't believe health care is a right, I do believe that as the richest country in the world, it is reprehensible and immoral that we drive people into bankruptcy because of an accident or unexpected illness.  I spoke to a good friend about this, and he said that Germany has a system where everyone is covered for basic medical care.  However, if you get admitted to the hospital, you're either sharing a basic room with someone, or you buy insurance to cover the cost of a private room.  I think we should have some kind of nationalized pool that covers accidents and catastrophic illness, and allow private insurance to compete for the frills.
• Let consumers get involved, and create transparency so we can actually see what services cost.  I thought the CEO of Whole Foods wrote an excellent Op Ed piece in the Wall Street Journal with some great ideas. 
• The pharmaceutical and medical device industries (and insurance for that matter) currently run their business with all the compassion of a mob enforcer.  "So you're sick eh?  Well, I'll make you all better - but you're gonna PAY!  And you don't have a choice; but hey, how can you put a price on your life?  He heh, never mind, I'll do it for you!" 
• Simple things like a routine doctors visit and cholesterol check shouldn't need health insurance.  Services like that should be affordable.  When I have three blood tests done that the hospital charges over $100 for, but Blue Shield per their PPO contract only pays $17, something is very, very wrong. 
• We're paying for Medicare twice - first through payroll taxes, and again when hospitals and medical providers jack up prices for the rest of us to cover the shortfall in Medicare reimbursement.  Not encouraging.  Medicare as it exists today is warping the entire system.
• Which brings me to my main point of contention - I am inherently distrustful of government bureaucracy.  A recent article from the Seattle newspaper is a perfect illustration.  Metro, our lovely public transit system here, currently covers only 20% of its budget with passenger fares.  The peak-hour fare (when most people ride the bus) is currently $2.00, so you can figure out how much it really costs to ride the bus.  Where does all that money go?  We freak out about million-dollar bonuses on Wall Street, but for some reason don't blink an eye when literally billions of dollars vanishes into the ether every year at the local, state, and Federal level. 
• Our government is currently trying to enact health care reform when at the same time it has policies in place which are part of the problem.  For example, spending money on anti-obesity campaigns while at the same time subsidizing the production of corn, which makes the dollar menu at McDonald's and all that high-fructose corn syrup so affordable.  

My biggest fear is we'll end up with another half-baked Medicare Plan D mess, pandering to the voters today and placing a crushing financial burden on generations to come.  Uggh - it's almost 10:30pm.  I shouldn't even be thinking about this so late! 

A Fork in the Road

This weekend I once again found myself in San Francisco, thanks to an absurdly cheap plane ticket (thank-you Virgin America for being such a great spoiler!) and a desire for face time with several friends.  Compared to other recent visits, this one was relatively spur-of-the-moment, but with a few phone calls I was able to pull together a full schedule on Saturday - one friend in the morning, one in the early afternoon, one in the early evening, and one that night.

Unlike other recent visits, this one did not go according to plan at all, with two missed connections and my entire itinerary turned upside-down.  Thankfully I'm a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, but at one point I felt a bit frustrated and had to fight the sense that I had wasted my time.  Lord, what in the world was I doing here anyway?

One visit that did go as planned (after a schedule flip-flop that turned out to be totally unnecessary)  was my 1pm with Dennis down at the Crystal Hotel.  The name seems a bit ironic, since  I usually think of all things clean, shiny, and sparkly when I hear the word "crystal," which is about as far as you can get from what the hotel is actually like (except, perhaps, for the number of people inside who are high on crystal meth, but that's another story).  The area is a textbook case for everything that makes San Francisco so fascinating and jarring; hoards of tourists busy with high-end luxury shopping, trying to avoid all the bums and junkies passed out on the street.

Yesterday, the scene was quite different.  When I arrived at Market St. & Powell, I found myself surrounded by teeming crowds of young men & women, most scantily clad, some wearing nothing at all, buzzing and gyrating to the pulsating electronic music of the Love Parade.  Based on observation and my own past experience, I'd guess most participants gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "under the influence."  For about fifteen minutes I froze, trying hard to process everything, and as I did a wave of deep sorrow welled up from the depths of my soul. 

From the corner of my eye, I noticed a man walking through sea of humanity with a "Jesus Loves You" sign.  Was this all the church had to offer this generation, Christian cliches devoid of any meaning, context, or relevance?  After all, I used to be part of that crowd!  And yet there I was, dumbfounded, sad, knowing that many of these young people would wake up the next morning and find all the same pain, disappointment, and confusion waiting, with another party, another buzz, or another hook-up the only answer. 

I prayed with hope silently, remembering the unlikely way God had gotten hold of me, knowing he could do the same with anyone.  That "love" was attached to something like this was proof positive of just how debased and meaningless the word has become in our culture - but I also know that true love never fails, and that even today Jesus is changing hearts and lives in situations that on the surface seem utterly hopeless.

Still, as I walked away the staggering implications of the decision to turn from sin and follow Jesus raced through my head.  Turning my back on homosexuality has been just one part of that process, but without a doubt the one that continues to generate the most heat.  For now it is a road I walk largely alone; something else that makes me sad at times, but hopeful too. I know God is in the business of making the impossible possible.  More than anything I want my friends to know Jesus, and experience the transforming power of the Spirit. 

I explained it this way recently - when living in California, I was distant from my biological family in Iowa, so my friends in California became my new home and family.  An extremely dysfunctional one most of the time, but family nonetheless.  When I made the decision to follow Jesus, I found myself at a major fork in the road; I went one way, and my friends went another.  God has "restored all the years the locust have stolen" with my biological family, and given me a wonderful family of God in every place I've lived since 2004, but I've never stopped thinking about, and praying for, my beloved family back in California.

Rest

And he said to them, "Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while."  Mark 6:31

"I may really grow up and be like you some day."  Rich Mullins, "Boy Like Me, Man Like You"

My good friend Al and I have spent the past couple months working through a Bible study on the Gospel of Luke.  So far two things have become really clear:

1. Jesus was really, really busy, and constantly in demand
2. Jesus found time to get away from the crowds and spend time alone with his heavenly Father

Now, of the two points listed above, I'm pretty good at #1.  I love being busy, and love DOING.  Reflection, meditation, and just plain sitting still for more than about 5 minutes are all pretty difficult.  Sometimes I feel like a 5-year-old kid who doesn't want to go to bed because he's afraid he'll miss something. 

That can be a problem though, because if the Son of God needed time to rest, then I'm pretty sure I do to!  Ah, but just like the 5-year-old I can be pretty stubborn when it comes to this.  For example, if I have enough time to go for a long run or spend time studying my Bible and praying, I'll always choose the run.  Funny how in the past six months I've developed chronic knee and foot pain that has forced me to stop running completely.  Hmm...  I think someone's kindness is gently leading me towards repentance.

Thanks to some stiff hiking boots and a pair of green Super Feet insoles, I have been able to hike.  Last week I went on a 4-day backpacking adventure to a place called The Enchantments.  Considered by many to be the premiere hiking destination in Washington (and perhaps the country), this was a place I'd been dreaming of visiting for well over a year.  Securing a permit can be extremely difficult, but the Lord was good and my three friends and I were able to secure one in the daily lottery held at the ranger station in Leavenworth.

My friends know I'm a rather driven individual when it comes to my passion for hiking and exploring.  When I'm in the wild I like to go, go, GO!  On this trip we had 18 miles to cover in 4 days, which averaged out to less than 5 miles per day.  Now don't get me wrong, some of those days were unbelievably challenging, like the morning of day #2 when we climbed Asgaard Pass.  The 2,200 foot ascent in just one mile with heavy packs took us 3 hours!  However, on every day of the trip our group had long, uninterrupted periods of time to spend at our camp with no planned activities.

What to do?  Cooking meals (or in my case, boiling water and re-hydrating Mountain House meals) and setting up my gear took up a bit of time, but still left me with plenty of space for R&R.  So that's exactly what I did - rest - or perhaps more accurate, I experienced true sabbath.

A huge mound of granite would become my church, where I would sit for extended periods, at times in complete silence, gazing at the orange and purple hues of a setting sun.  Occasionally I would just start talking to God, thanking him for all the amazing things I'd experienced on the trip, and pouring out the things on my heart.  At night I'd lay on my back and stare in sheer awe at the vast expanse of the universe, quietly contemplating a God who could create such giant splendor and yet have a personal relationship with me, just one tiny speck in that sea of stars.  We had some great shared experiences too, everything from watching with wonder as an osprey hunted for fish with military precision to sharing testimonies over dinner. 

On Monday I was walking back from lunch, my first day back to work after the big adventure.  As I listened to the drone of car engines and sirens wailing, I felt a pang of sadness.  The city felt so distracting and soulless, with no place to go where I could truly be alone.  I've found that a struggle ever since becoming a Christian - finding those places in the city where I can get away from the cacophony of modernity and commune with my Father in quiet solitude.  I love being in creation, because it focuses my heart on the creator, while cell phones, Blackberries, the internet, and e-mail all pull me away - my modern version of Jesus' "crowds." 

Jesus was intentional about getting away, and I know I need to be too.  I have a feeling this will require some creativity in the city, especially since my car died!  Still, there are ways, and I know some if it is simply obedience and effort, breaking bad habits and getting rid of excuses.  Good thing God is just as much here in Seattle as he is in the Enchantments!

Wonder 2.0

Over the past couple weeks I've been thinking quite a bit about life, especially in light of last week's sermon at church about perseverance.  I wonder if a lot of people get to the age of 36 and think, "Yup, my life is pretty much exactly the way I thought it would be."  In my case, this couldn't be further from the truth; whether I go back to my early childhood, fast-forward to college, or even reflect on a time as recent as my late 20's, I would never have expected things would be the way they are.

Now, it seems that most of the time when people say things like that, there is bitterness, disappointment, or resentment.  I won't deny there being a bit of pain and sadness mixed in with that statement, but for the most part I say it with humble reverence, gratitude, and a bit of awestruck wonder. 

If you'd asked me at age 8 what I'd be doing "when I grow up," I'd have said something like "archeaologist," "marine biologist," or "astronomer."  At the age of 18 I would have said "missionary" or "youth pastor."  10 years later I'm not sure what I would have said; at that point I considered work to merely be a means to an end, something I endured to have money so I could enjoy life.  In June of 2005 I left seven years in the financial world behind, and thought I'd never return. 

So here I am today, going on a year and a half back in the financial industry.  It definitely falls into the category of "I never thought that would happen!"  Now instead of being something to endure in order to make money and enjoy life, I think of it as something I devote myself to in order to live out God's call on my life here in Seattle.  No, it doesn't mean I walk to work every day skipping and humming with butterflies and rainbows in the background, but it does mean that even a job in finance can have meaning and purpose in the kingdom.

There are so many other things that fall into the same category.  As a little boy I loved the mud and playing outdoors, but by my teenage years I was far more interested in CDs, video games, and going shopping in Des Moines.  Later, those interests would shift to far more carnal pursuits - clubs, parties, drugs, and random sexual encounters.  It feels a bit strange saying that, but those really were my true passions for about five years.  Then, shortly after coming to faith in Jesus, two guys from my Bible study group opened my eyes to the wonders of the great outdoors.  Today my favorite past-time is throwing on my heavy pack and heading out into the wilderness with friends for adventure and fellowship.  If wildlife sightings and dips in clear alpine lakes are involved, so much the better! 

It sure seems like a far cry from a boy whose biggest adventure was getting high score on Ms. Pac-Man, or a young man whose greatest challenge was seeing how many outfits he could buy at Valley West Mall in Des Moines.  I remember six or seven years ago my partner at the time trying to get me interested in a backpacking trip to Yosemite - I thought he was nuts!  If we could bring along hot showers and flush toilets I might be interested; otherwise forget it.  This past week my dad, older brother, and nephew came out to visit, and we spent 2 days hiking and camping in Rainier National Park - I never would have thought I'd be doing something like that (with my family no less!) and enjoying it.

The greatest "Who would have thought?!?" moment definitely belongs to my personal identity.  In my early teen years I was a young man who was very interested in and attracted to girls, but also quite gun-shy around them and easily hurt.  At the same time I was involved sexually with several young men, and in general fascinated with pornography and the whole concept of sexual pleasure.  I certainly didn't think of myself as "gay" back then, and assumed that as I got into high school my fixation on sex would transfer to girls.  I honestly don't think I even had a concept of "sexuality," and felt no conflict whatsoever over what I was doing vs. who I thought I was.

In high school everything got really fuzzy - I still liked girls, but after experiencing some powerful and painful rejection my freshman year, felt an increasingly strong emotional pull towards other guys.  My sexual fascination began pointing almost entirely in this direction as well.  Religious beliefs collided head-first with carnal desire, and no matter how many corners I felt I'd just turned, there always seemed to be a dark shadow lurking in the corner.  I hated myself, but lived with the hope that if I waited long enough and was "good" enough, God would somehow change me.

In college the sexual fantasies in my head eventually became reality; first through pornography, then through random sexual encounters at bars and through the emerging online community.  At the age of 22 I embraced a homosexual identity, not so much a bold proclamation of truth, but rather a weary capitulation to something I felt no strength to fight anymore.  At least I had one question answered - I finally knew who I was, and if nothing else at least knew where I belonged. 

Eight years later my life would do a complete 180-degree turn, and in my heart understood an entirely new message - Jesus was my identity.  If I would trust him, I could leave "gay" behind and become a new person.  This in spite of any feelings of sexual attraction - gay, straight, or otherwise.  My goal was not so much to become "straight" (although developing heterosexual desire is something I certainly think would be great), but rather to focus first and foremost on being like Jesus. 

Five and a half years later I feel comfortable in my skin, and firmly rooted in my identity as a follower of Jesus.  To this day I don't like the labels "gay" or "straight," because it feels like an attempt by certain people to put individuals in boxes so they can feel safe.  I know when it comes to original design, I was meant to function as a heterosexual man.  By the same token I also know I am part of the creation Paul talks about in Romans 8:22-25 that groans in anticipation for redemption.  In ways that go far beyond the issue of sexuality I am acutely aware that things are not the way they were meant to be, both in my life and the larger world around me. 

I suppose my life seems like a bit of an anomaly - I don't feel "gay" at all any more, except for the fact I sometimes find men sexually attractive.  Some might say I'm just fighting against reality.  Well, so be it - fighting sure feels a lot better than giving up and quitting, not to mention Biblical (Ephesians 6 comes to mind).  I long for the ways things should be, but am content to trust Jesus with the way things are, yet continually hopeful for what might be in this life (and from time to time experiencing the "what might be"), knowing that someday all things will be made right.  The Lord's patience is salvation, and my pursuit will be the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (II Pet 3:13-18).  Life may be nothing like what I expected, but I can say with full assurance that's a very good thing!

Wonder

For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Yesterday the high temperature in Seattle was 103, shattering all previous records by a large margin.  Today was "only" 96 - 2 degrees hotter than the hottest day last summer!  Still, 96 felt a whole lot better than 103, and since the breezes kicked in things have actually cooled off a bit.

What a summer it's been!  Actually, in many ways it feels like summer began in April, when I went on my first backpacking trip to the Duckabush River in Olympic National Park.  Last year my first hiking trip didn't happen until the weekend after the 4th of July.  Yes, 2008 was the year we had our infamous "June-uary" here in the Northwest.  This time around it feels like spring and summer melded into one glorious season; maybe I'll call it sprummer.

I thought it would be fun to give a brief synopsis of all my hiking trips so far this year.  Here goes!

1.  The Duckabush River.  The first weekend of April was absolutely splendid, with clear skies and temperatures in the low 80s back in Seattle.  I joined up with six other guys from church for a 2-day backpack along the Duckabush River in Olympic National Park.  It was a unique trip in that most of the guys I was meeting for the first time when we got to the trailhead.  I also got my first trip on the Edmonds/Kingston Ferry.  My favorite memories of this trip were David playing songs from "Lord of the Rings" on his flute among the mossy trees, and the absolute crystal-clear waters of the Duckabush.  The only bad thing about this trip was a minor slip on a log, which caused my left knee to jam.  I'm still experiencing a decent amount of pain from that.

2.  Ancient Lakes:  This was my birthday hike, done on 36 years + 1 day.  I really enjoyed this hike, partly because it was unlike anything else I'd ever done in Washington.  This hike involved a 3 and a half hour drive east to a spot that seemed about as far removed from the lush forest of the Olympics as one could get.  The Ancient Lakes basin was a huge canyon, filled with soaring red rock walls, rushing waterfalls, sagebrush, and plenty of wild flowers just starting to bloom.  My knee was at about its worst at this time, but it really didn't give me much trouble - not a huge amount of downhill trekking which helped a lot.  My favorite part of this hike was the amazing geometric patterns you could see in the rocks, along with (of course) the flowers.  What shocked me was the amount of trash at the lakes, and especially along the main waterfall by the Ancient Lakes.  I'm still not quite sure I understand what would posess someone to hike several miles in the desert to shoot guns, drink beer, litter everywhere, and poop on a rock by a stream (no joke!). 

3.  Lena Lake:  This was another hike on the east slopes of the Olympics, and one I did totally spur of the moment. I woke up early on Sunday morning, and could tell it was sunny out to the West.  So I quick packed some snacks, threw on my hiking clothes, and headed down south towards Olympia, then back north again to the trail.  To get there I had to drive under a tree that had blown down the night before and fallen across the road!  My favorite part of this hike was how mossy and green everything was - I felt like a hobbit from Lord of the Rings!  I also enjoyed the solitude just after officially entering Olympic National Park on the trail, finding myself in a snow-covered valley, surrounded by lofty peaks and several roaring waterfalls.

4.  Muir Beach.   My good friend Al joined me for the trek down to San Francisco for the annual Bay to Breakers.  The day before the race we connected with my old roommate Jim and went for a splendid hike on the bluffs above Muir Beach.  I've never seen so many wildflowers in my life, and the scenery was breathtaking!  The best part of this hike was just being with two dear brothers in Christ, talking about life as we enjoyed the wonders of God's creation.

5.  Lake Chelan:  What a fun trip this was - a 2-day backpacking trip with my friend Erin from church and co-worker Trevor.  To get to the trail head we had to take a boat; at one point Lake Chelan is only a mile wide but over 1,400 feet deep!  We covered 18 miles in 2 days; 11 the first, and 7 the second.  It was really hot, but it was hard to complain with such amazing views and good company.  Trevor and I went for a dip in the lake; it was REALLY cold but so refreshing!  The water was absolutely crystal-clear, and all along the shores you could see and hear rivers and streams plunging into the deep blue waters.  Of course I was happy because there were flowers galore to photograph!  We finished the trip with a great BBQ done by the boy scouts and a long boat ride back to Chelan.

6.  Mt Si.  Yes, good ol' Mt. Si.  My friends Rich and Erin joined me for a super-early morning hike to the top of this Seattle standby hike of about 4,000 feet of elevation gain over 4 miles.  This didn't go so well for a number of reasons I won't mention (beware lemon Luna bars!), but I'm still glad we did it.  It was really overcast that day, so the pictures were nothing to write home about.

7.  Goat Lake.  A cold and damp day, but an absolutely fantastic hike with a great group of guys to a beautiful alpine lake, shrouded in mist and once again reminding me of something out of "Lord of the Rings."  I loved the smooth-as-glass lake and mirror-like reflection, and the absolutely gigantic waterfall below Goat Lake. 

8.  Hurricane Ridge.  The last weekend in June I ran the Seattle Rock 'n Roll half marathon.  It worked out that I had not one, but two friends from San Francisco visiting that weekend.  On Sunday morning a bunch of us loaded up the cars and headed for the Edmonds Ferry, where we once again set off for the Olympic Penisula.  This time our destination was Hurricane Ridge, one of the highest points in the national park accessible by car.  The skies were brilliant blue and we had panoramic views of the entire Olympic range.  We also had close enounters with several baby deer (one whose back legs were still shaking and couldn't have been more than a few days old) and one big mountain goat.  We had fun eating our lunch at the top of a ridge while the goat munched away happily on the grass next to us.  My favorite part of this hike was definitely the wildlife; that and throwing a snowball at my friend Erin and getting snow in her pocket!

9.  Santa Cruz:  On a recent trip to San Francisco my old roommate David and I hopped in his Aerostar van and headed down to Santa Cruz, where we spent a leisurely day rambling through giant redwood forests and fjording rivers.  The best parts of this hike were taking my boots off to cross the river, and just having lots of time to share from the heart with a brother in Christ.

10.  The High Divide Loop:  This was the granddaddy of all backpacking trips; truly the creme de la creme.  It had it all - towering trees, lush meadows, rare wild flowers in bloom everywhere, soaring peaks, stunning vistas, shimmering alpine lakes, roaring waterfalls, bubbling brooks, lumbering black bears, baby deer, families of mountain goats, and gigantic herds of elk.  Oh yeah, and a great group of people to share an amazing experience with!  There are just too many favorites to nail down just one - I loved finally seeing several bears in the wild, and swimming in Lunch Lake was fantastic.  The one negative - the utterly merciless mosquitoes at Lunch Lake!

11.  Kendall Katwalk:  A mere hour drive from Seattle, this section of the Pacific Crest Trail is at one point literally blasted out of the rock with dizzying views that plunge straight down for hundreds of feet.  Another great group of people from church joined up for this hike of approximately 13 or so miles.  I love the dramatic contrast of the rocks, especially the deep red section near the Katwalk.  I also think Gravel Lake is just about the best alpine lake for swimming I've ever seen.  Four of us went for a dip in the clear, chilly water.  On the way down we got caught in a thunderstorm and torrential downpour - by the time we got back to the parking lot, everyone looked like a wet rat!  My favorite parts of this hike were the profuse explosion of wild flowers along the trail, meeting several new people, and the fantastic swim in Gravel Lake.

This weekend - the Panhandle Gap in Rainier National Park!

Heart

Quite possibly the coolest Jars of Clay song ever.

The Prodigal God

A few weeks ago I finished one of the most thought-provoking books I've read in quite some time - The Prodigal God by Timothy Keller.  The parable of the prodigal son is perhaps one of Jesus' most well-known; however it is also perhaps the most misunderstood.  Part of the problem lies with its name; a more accurate heading would be "The parable of the two sons." 

To most readers - myself included until recently - the entire focus seems to be on the foolish younger son, who asks for his inheritance early, spends all of it foolishly on "wild living," then crawls back home after finding himself feeding pigs (an unclean animal that no self-respecting Jew would touch) and starving.  Most of us know what happens - the father is waiting, and when he sees the son from a distance comes running to embrace him, granting a warm and completely undeserved welcome back into the community.

It seems obvious to say the younger son had dishonored his family by his actions, but what about the older son?  It turns out he too badly dishonors his father.  When he learns his younger brother has returned, he is indignant that his father would not only welcome him back, but kill the fattened calf and celebrate!  In the day of Jesus, most people were very poor, and meat was a luxury item.  The meat that was available would be by our modern standards pretty sub-par.  (If you're curious, go to a place like Cambodia and order a steak - it's like eating shoe leather)  Back then the fattened calf was like the best U.S.D.A certified meat, a treat that happened maybe once every few years.  Slaughtering one of these animals for a feast was truly a special occasion in the community.

You can imagine the anger of the older brother; why in the world was the father wasting his time on this worthless embarrassment of a son?  After all, he had been good, stayed home, never got in trouble, and his father had never thrown a party like that for him.  It wasn't fair!  So when the father lovingly invites him to join the feast, he chooses instead to stand outside pouting.  What he doesn't realize is that now he too has greatly dishonored his father, both in his words (the Greek brings out the harshness of the response to his father) and actions.  In his heart he truly believes he deserves and is owed good things from his father.

Five and a half years ago my life seemed very much like that of the prodigal son; after years of "wild living" I had returned "home" so to speak.  My initial plan was rational and calculated, much like that of the younger son.  The parable gives no real indication that he was genuinely repentant; he simply figured any fate back home had to be better than his current circumstances, and that perhaps he could work his way back into good standing with his family and community.  After my partner and I split up in January of 2004, religion seemed like a good balm to soothe my open wounds.  I had a plan - I'd believe in God again and live a "good life," but I wouldn't have anything to do with the church.  The whole thing would just be me and God.  I was perhaps willing to concede I'd made some mistakes, but hadn't yet confronted the reality of sin.

When I drew near to God, just like the prodigal son I found him waiting - not with a finger pointing in shame and condemnation, but rather with arms wide open, ready to embrace and cover me with love.  When faced with this unconditional love, the walls around my heart crumbled and my eyes were opened to the truth - sin was my real problem.  In that moment I understood repentance not as punishment or humiliation, but rather as a precious gift. 

It seems hard to believe, but this coming January will mark six years since my new life began.  As time passes, it is easier for me to relate to the older son in the parable.  It becomes tempting to want to measure spiritual growth in some quantifiable way (how very Western right?).  Those of us who follow Jesus know this can be a very difficult thing to do, as change and growth is often quite subtle and takes place over such a long period of time as to be imperceptible on a day-to-day basis.  As a result true spiritual transformation can be replaced by laws and regulations:  read my Bible x-times a week, pray 30 minutes a day, go to church this many times a month, give x-amount of money to charity, and so on.  The cherry on top is always the list of bad things I used to do that I don't do anymore - that has to count for something, right?  What I don't realize is how my relationship with God can shift from his acceptance of me because of the blood of Jesus to earning his good grace and favor by what I do.  In the process I've found myself at times being incredibly self-righteous, judgmental, and un-Christ-like.

Don't get me wrong - there are disciplines like studying scripture, prayer, and giving, that are key to spiritual growth and maturity.  It's when we start using these practices as a basis to judge others or influence our standing with God (as if that were possible!) that we have a problem.  "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble" - that's straight out of the Word, and an important truth to remember.

I think Jesus told the parable of the two sons because most of us are the younger or older brother - openly rebellious or proud and conceited towards God.  It's a bit humbling to confess that I've been both in my relatively short life, but also comforting to be reminded that God's love is big enough to cover the proud and rebellious and change them both.

Insecure

I really love living in Seattle, but I have to confess, this place really brings out my deeply-rooted insecurities. Everyone here seems to be extreme something, and by comparison my life feels overwhelmingly... average. One of my co-workers is a pretty good friend who shares my love for the outdoors, except his is a *slightly* different flavor. Like, oh, doing a triathalon (Ironman no less) on Saturday, and then just for fun summiting Mt. Rainier on Sunday. Me? If I climb that mountain once it will be a major life accomplishment. I look in the mirror and see a 36-year-old man with an injured right shoulder and injured left knee who once excelled at running and now is a master of eating. A lot. Trips to REI seem to be the worst - a modern-day shrine to the outdoors that reminds me with every visit just how much cooler everyone is than me. Funny I'm going there now to get some tech wash; just call me a glutton for punishment. Insecurity is an interesting issue to confront as a follower of Christ. Where is my heart, and what does it reveal about who I truly love? For a large chunk of life, my biggest dream was being someone not just special, but worshiped and adored. As I've grown in the Lord, those desires have gradually been replaced by the goal of loving God and loving others. Still, I'd be lying if I said the old Ryan didn't rear his head every now and then. I shared this with my roommate; with a gentle chuckle he quoted Paul in Romans 7. The greatest missionary in the history of Christianity apparently had the same problem. I'm currently trying to memorize Colossians chapter 3. In verse 1 Paul writes, "If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God." My flesh tries to remind me of where I used to be, but my heart is pointed towards Christ. Cliche as it may sound, it really is true - Christ is my security.