Woman

By John Köehler



Woman
Though we forget you all the time
You are unforgettable to us.

Though our eyes wander across the
Constantly changing scenery
They always come back to rest on you

Though we sometimes act as if
We wish you would leave us alone
We miss you when you’re gone

We miss you in our dreams and wake
To find you near us is enough
We thank the Lord for your sake
And once again your heart we take
You quiet us when the waves are rough


We adore you and your babelicious beauty
You wonder if we know you’re there
Didn’t you know that you’re our cutie
That our eyes come back to stare
At you?

Woman
We always come back to you
After we have wandered the globe
Looking for what was ever there
Waiting for us as you always did
The girl we have loved from
The beginning of time
Even when we hated girls
Or pretended to in the schoolyard
While you chased us to and fro.


Even then we knew who you were
Though we had not yet met you
Even then we couldn’t wait to meet you
And knew you were alive

Woman, we thank you for being alive
We thank you for putting up with our
Foolish selves that want to solve the world
Hoping that you would solve ours
Good luck with that!

You are the moon to our earth
God the sun
You are the reason for our birth
And the fun
You are the ying to our yan
What a fit
You are the purpose to our plan
This is it

Without you we would be less
Like the earth without the moon
Like the bees without their honey
(Like a bank with lots of money)
Like the waves without their shore
Waves would roll no more

You are the shore that we always
Come back home to break upon
You greet us with open arms
Over and over and over again
Always there, never ending
The shores of our lives
We love you for that
We love you for that

You are the sunrise meadow
When things are fair and gentle
When we don’t want to think
Just want to feel alive
You make us feel alive

You are the sunset oasis
Wise and welcoming
A promise of paradise
A chance to rest after
A day of wander-work-lust

Woman, we lust and thirst for you
And cannot get enough of you
We always expect you to be
And never thank you enough
We never thank you enough
Forgive us your men

You are the delight of our hearts
And the rest of us too!
We delight in you and thank God for you
We thank God for making you
And for sending and lending you to us
For just a little while
Just a little while

God must have sent you
You must have come from Heaven
Because isn’t that where angels come from?
Thank you for being our earth angel
And for loving us earth men here below

We are weak but you make us strong
We are dull but you make us sharp
We are good but you make us great
We are alone but you make us belong

Woman, thank you for being my sister
Thank you for being my lover
My soul mate, my lifeline, my heartsong
Thank you for being the wife of my life
The beauty of my need
The pillow for my rest

We are glad you took one of our ribs
And the hearts beneath

Beaches, Fires and Babies

Patty and I walked down to the beach yesterday at the end of the day and I was once again reminded how the beach is like fires and babies.

Pretty strange thing to say, but stay with me. All three things are completely mesmerizing and constantly changing. A fire can lure the most amazing words out of people as they stare into the flames and get lulled into a sense of warmth and security. We have a fire pit in our yard and many times I have had that happen with our daughters or friends. The ever changing fire just sucks out the junk from their hearts and roasts it alive.

There is something about a fire that is peaceful and alive, and that awakens perhaps some deep inner longing. Is it our genetic memory of so many fires from beyond memory of our earliest ancestors? Who knows and, to a certain extent, who cares. A fire is a friend, fun to watch and enjoy with others. It is dangerously beautiful and painfully serene.

The ocean as it was last night was...amazing. We live across the street from it yet forget about it all during the winter. And then like yesterday we go back and remember what it is that we have missed and gasp with delight at what God has provided for our sake. No two waves are the same and this the surfers know. They own each one they ride and it will never repeat, just as the fire will never quite flicker and burn the way it did that night when you dreamed through the flames.

The waves of the ocean produce such amazing sounds of life. They sound like God's breathing and can immediately lull me into a deeper state of satisfaction and rest. I love the sound of the surf. Sometimes when the wind is right we can hear the waves breaking from inside our house. Relentless and constant, in and out and never ending. A life force.

Babies too are every changing and constantly moving. Our seven-month-old granddaughter Lili is ever changing and sometimes hard to keep in one place. When she's asleep and still it is hard to imagine the energy that she possesses when she's asleep. And yet you only have to look into the tired eyes of her Mommy to see the truth of her constant desire to consume the world in a non-stop learning experience.

To watch and be with Lili is to watch and be with God, plain and simple. Her desires are completely honest and directly simple. She wants the toy, she wants to laugh, she needs a change, she wants some food or.... she needs to rest and so her eyes close at last, and she recharges her batteries for another burst of amazement and joy.

Watching Lili is like watching a fire or the ocean. All are a force of nature, completely beautiful and amazing to behold. They never stay the same but constantly fill you with happiness and satisfy a deep longing inside of you.

I suppose that a fire on the beach with Lili would be like heaven on earth. But then again, heaven is here already. Go watch the fire, or the waves break, or your baby play. Welcome to heaven on earth.

Jasper the Amazing Dog

Top Photo: Jasper the dog dressed up because he lived in a house full of artists, where nothing is sacred.

Middle Photo: 2002 family portrait, with Jasper in a typical "pet me, stroke me, feed me" pose.

Bottom Photo: Graphic showing Jasper that was developed and used by the Virginia Beach SPCA and the City of Virginia Beach Scoop the Poop campaign. This image can be seen on the land side of the dune walkways on every street on the North End of VB.



Dear Lord,

I'm kind of shaky right now because my dog Jasper is dying downstairs. Patty is calling the vet to schedule a time when we can help him finish dying. I feel a powerful emotion that is too big to describe or control. Let me tell you about my dog Jasper.

He is in fact the family dog and has been so for the past 16.5 years, if you can believe it. Well, I reckon you can believe anything since you invented belief and stuck it in our hearts as a signature way for us to connect to you and to the world.

Patty got Jasper for me as a birthday present way back in 1992. Probably the best present I've ever gotten, even if some folks yelled at me for getting a pure bred dog instead of a shelter dog. To all those folks I invite you to reconsider your ignorance.

I remember going out to pick Jasper out of his litter. Since they were chocolate labs, I brought some white tape to help pick one out. They were all swarming together and play fighting in a rugby scrum. I started putting on a few pieces of tape, and then noticed that one of the pups that had tape on him would play with his siblings and then leave the scrum and lay down and watch them.

That's my dog! I loved that little laid back approach to life that he had and sure enough he was the perfect dog for us, for our laid back family.

This morning Jasper was whimpering and in pain. I comforted him and when I was next to him he quieted. Then when I was eating breakfast he would whimper until I came over and petted him some more. So I dragged him (he can't get up anymore) over to the kitchen table so he could see me from where he lay while I ate. He was quiet and could see me.

All his life he has just wanted to see me, Lord. Whether I was working up here in the studio or riding my bike, swimming in the ocean or just watching TV. Jasper always needed to position himself so he could see me. I don't know if this was because I trained him or because we were and are, best friends. I don't know, but it is what it is and I am thankful for his need to see me.

Because his need kept me here and made me realize how important I am to all God's creatures, great and small. Two legs or four. Sentient or not. Your creatures, Lord. I'm thankful for my brown-eyed friend, I really am. I'm having trouble writing this without crying. Dang it...

I do hate funerals so. I know the point of them, but the point sucks and the setting and tone sucks more. So sad and stupid, when the life of the dead one was anything but sad. Same with Jasper. I know I'm going to grieve and already am, but I refuse to give in to too much of it, Lord. The whole thing going on inside me right now it nobody's business but my own. Why do I have to share that with anyone? I don't want to.

When we moved to the Beach, Jasper was afraid of the waves. This seemed completely wrong to me since my dog, our dog, was supposed to love the water. He did love it, but the waves scared the poo right on out of him. I wanted to ease him into it, so I just picked him up and threw him into a wave. He learned how to ride them pretty quick!

One of my favorite memories of Jasper is when we first moved here. Patty was living up in Maryland with Danielle, finishing out the school year as a teacher. I was down here with Kimmi. Jasper and I would meet her at the end of the street every day when she got off the bus. Then we'd hop on the bike and ride back into Seashore State Park. Jasper would trot along beside us, then race off after something and eventually catch back up to us.

He became a true North End dog by wandering all around the area. He'd always come back, sometimes covered in mud from the marshes he'd walked through. He'd come on back home and rest a bit, happy to get his biscuit we gave him whenever he came back. When he was much older he would walk outside, down to the yard, make a hard U-turn and scratch on the door to come back in. For a biscuit. He would do this over and over again until we wised up. But I was happy to pay him back for all the joy he gave, and if getting a little bit biscuit fat was part of the price, so be it.

Jasper became the Dog of the Street after Buddy died. Buddy was a big old ornery Wolf Hound, scary and crotchety. The rule for the Dog of the Street is that he can crap anywhere on the street with impunity. That's the rule, even if some folks never got a copy of it, much less agreed to it. Now that Jasper is leaving the planet, Bianca will assume the title. Thing is, she already craps in my yard with impunity. Maybe she assumed her title a little early. Long live Bianca!

Sixteen years is a LONG time for any dog to live, much less a big dog. Twelve is the average number. This makes Jasper exemplary in age as well as behavior and style. Everyone loved him and he loved everyone. All except for the black dude that was walking down our driveway to put something on our door just as Jasper and I were walking out the same door.

Jasper's hackle's went up and he started doing that crazy stiff-legged running hopping barking strut that dogs do to tell you to get the crap off their yard. The dude did a perfect cartoon windmill with his legs running in place on the gravel. He went down hard, left a big rut in my driveway, got up and took off running. I could not help myself and laughed out loud while also yelling out an apology to the rapidly retreating dude.

Since Jasper is a dog of color, I'm quite positive that this was not discrimination. He just sensed something bad in the dude, and maybe also wanted to impress me. He did.

Jasper slept with our girls, hid under my desk during thunderstorms and kept constant and vigilant watch as we slept. Unless he was chasing rabbits in his sleep, in which case forget it. Jasper was and is as much a part of our family as we are. We are about to lose a family member and that just plain hurts bad. It sucks big time.

Jasper is going out and Lilli is coming in. Thanks for the coming and goings, Lord. Thanks for emptying our tanks and filling them up. Thanks for new life and the end of life. Thanks for everything. Thanks for Jasper.

Thanks for my best friend dog. My dog (our dog) Jasper.

Miss You Already & Oh Capernaum

Photos by Glen McClure. www.glenmcclure.com




Dear Lord,

Sometimes words just don't cut it and fail to approach what a single photo can achieve, much less hundreds of photos. Nevertheless I tried to write down some words that came out of looking at the beautiful photos Glen McClure took of a bunch of our kids.

So I wrote down a couple of poems and recorded one to add to a little video of Glen's photos. So now I'm just gonna share those two poems here in written form. Simple as that, easy as pie, right as rain, down the drain we go and where we stop nobody knows. Except for you, Lord.

Except for you.



Miss You Already

Dear Capernaum
Well I was goin’ out to the rocker
Just yesterday morning to sit a spell
And maybe think about nothin’ at all
But then you came to my mind and
I’m here to tell
I miss you

I walked down to the creek to
Look at them baby rabbits was born
On Easter Sunday but they was gone
That made me think of you and how
Whenever I see you my heart plays
The best love song
Cause I miss you

Then I lay on my back and the sun
Licked my face and closed my eyes
And guess who showed up in my dreams?
Sure enough it wasn’t them rabbits unless
They can walk upright and come to Club
It was you it seems
I sure do miss you

I keep seein’ you just about everywhere I go
I never knew you lived out here in the fields
And the rabbit holes and places I walk
Now it ain’t like seein’ a ghost or nothin’
More like wantin’ something so bad and just
Achin’ to talk to you
I guess I miss you

I don’t think I fell and bumped my head no
More like I fell and bumped my heart so
It seems I just can’t get you off of me cause
Wherever I go there you are, there you go
I keep turnin’ around expectin’ to see you
Standing by the side of the road to my life
Kinda makes me pause
Do you miss me too?

Dear Capernaum
I don’t need no snapshots to carry around in my wallet
Cause every one of you is carried inside of me
Like a tattoo that can’t never ever come off
Until kingdom comes or you come back to me
When oh when will that be Caperanum?
Shoot I just saw you the other day but
I miss you already



Oh Capernaum


Oh Capernaum
Your face is like the midnight sky
That stretches stars across the blue
Your love a comet racing by
Is that an angel? Is it you?
Come down to earth and set me free

Oh Capernaum
My heart goes beep beep beep
At the thought of you and I drive
As fast as I can to park myself
In the driveway of your life
I fill up my tanks with you

Oh Capernaum
How did you manage to hide
The lightning bugs that glow
From inside your ocean eyes
Wait, there goes another one
Tell me where did it go?

Oh Capernaum
You wear your heart on the outside
Didn’t anyone ever tell you it
Might be better to let it hide
Inside the dungeons of your heart?
I’m glad you didn’t listen

Oh Capernaum
Your smile that says you love me
Like manna from heaven I think
It feeds me more than I could eat
And gives me more than I could drink
My spiritual Slurpee machine

Oh Capernaum
I can see you standing there
In the corner of my deepest place
I remember everything about you
And want to see your shiny face
I miss you Capernaum
Oh Capernaum
I miss you.

Heart Surfing

Photos and video clip by Mark and Pam Harmon.


Top Photo: Rusty and Tater help a young CP dude on the board while behind them Sr. Leader Colleen Stephonowanasandwich takes her turn with help from Kathie and Ashley.

Second Photo: Katie shows off her good form while her surf buddy Scott steadies her board.

Third Photo: Jenny the Jewel gets help from Ashley while Pam does the grunt work and carries in the board. Good thing they're made of foam!

Bottom Photo: Page shows off her style between Jenn and Miss CNU.

Video Clip (at bottom): Scott Cohen helps Brandon ride the wave into shore on his own.

Matthew 3:15

But Jesus insisted. "Do it. God's work, putting things right all these centuries, is coming together right now in this baptism." So John did it.

Dear Lord,

Thanks for yesterday.

After last year's Surf Camp I just kept thinking about the baptism and how cool it would be. I dreamed about it, thought about it and saw it as something that had already happened. I like it when I can climb inside your vision and live there. Living inside a vision makes it real and makes me ready for the real thing, the thing that we execute to complete the cast of the vision.

The funny thing is that doing it live can seem anticlimactic after already knowing how it will be. It has always been that way for me, which I suppose makes me lucky. It also makes me super impatient for the thing to happen. Like Surf Camp.

Friday afternoon I took off early and mowed the yard. I am actually blessed by mowing my lawn. No one can talk to me, no one can call me, emails are out of the question. There's just me, the mower and the grass. I make a line and then make another. I walk around my yard and try my best not to step on dog poo. Not a problem if it's old and dry, but young and wet is another story and one you don't want to be part of.

After that I set up the tables. I love parties. The idea is to create a place, a setting and event where people can come be themselves and enjoy each other. The key is to welcome them in love. With Capernaum this is very easy as we all feed off each other. Now I don't mean like cannibals in the flesh, but in the spirit! So for me just setting up tables is an act of love because I can imagine how everyone will feel. I think how I would feel and where I would sit. I see them there in my mind. I miss them ahead of time.

Pam and Mark Harmon arrived and off we went for dinner with Tara, Rusty, Angela and Jerry, Rusty's painter friend and a Capernaum Buddy. Jerry is standing on the end of God's diving board, ready to fall into Jesus, ready for someone to push him in. But not yet, so maybe he's near the end, but is looking back to defend himself against any lunkhead that tries to come up behind him. He's a tough guy and has had a tough life. He can not comprehend a God that loves him exactly like he is and will forget his past. He can't forget it so why should God?

Saturday morning came and I was ready to rumble. I was impatient and ready and, as always happens, time marched forward and suddenly it was 2:00 and volunteers arrived. Some prepared for the party and some headed down to the beach to carry surf boards, set up tents and prepare for the kids.

The official start was 3:00 but the unofficial start was 2:30, with Rusty taking a bunch of kids into the water. Leave it to Rusty to break the rules! That's why he's such a good Sr. Leader. Troy Smith, my big bald-headed man of God friend, had once again brought a bunch of foamie trainer boards, and other friends brought their long boards and tandems. Troy runs Titus International, a surfing company that includes Titus Surf School, an awesome way to learn.

Brandon was a huge autistic black kid, weighing in around 400 lbs. True to autistic form, he appeared frightened by the noisy waves, but he was also obviously drawn to them and especially the surf boards. We eased old Brandon out in the water and worked to get him on top of Scott's Cohen's tandem board, which really takes two to carry all 12 feet of it. Huge!

By the time we finally got Brandon belly down on the board, it was nearly sunk! But Scott managed to turn it and positioned Brandon for a belly ride into shore. He did it! If you watch the video, you'll see Scott hanging on to the back of Brandon's life vest, then letting him go and watching his new little (ahem, HUGE) brother ride the wave in on his own.

In the video Scott disappears but then runs back in to help Brandon get up. That's how it goes at Capernaum. We show them, we model the behavior, we teach them, we push and pull them and then we let them go so they can do it on their own. Then we run back in to help them when they lay there completely shocked at what they've done. Scott provided the spirit and energy for Brandon to do what he did on Saturday. Without him Brandon would not have done what he did. Scott is a hero. All of our Buddies and Leaders are heroes.

Page has Down Syndrome and is proud of it. She will tell you about it and has written stories about it. Her parents are proud of her, God is proud of her, everyone in Capernaum is proud of her so why should she not be proud of herself? Riddle me that!

Page is fearless but when she first came to Surf Camp she was frightened of the waves. But after a while her fear evaporated. She started showing off and eventually managed to stand on a surfboard held in place by some of her new Buddies. Capernaum is all about becoming instant friends. If you help me with my surfboard and make sure I'm safe and no sharks get me, then I will love you back. Any questions?

Page wound up winning the Most Outstanding Surfer award after getting a lot of help from some outstanding leaders, including Jenn from Va. Tech and uh, Miss CNU (forgot her name). Have a look at the photo of the three of them together showing off their girly muscles.

A lot of people would prefer if folks with disabilities would just stay inside and out of sight. But we say we have just as much right as you to act like a wild woman or man, have ridiculous amounts of fun, and live life large and to the absolute max.

You would best be advised to stay out of our way, because God has a plan for us and no one will stop our relentless pursuit of our own perfection. The perfection God made in us. We rock!

The weather was stormy just to the west of us so a lot of people didn't come. Even so we had about 80 folks there, including kids, family members, Leaders and Buddies. We had about 12 trainer boards, plus a couple of long boards and tandems. Two tents, some beach chairs. A bunch of sand and a big old ocean!

Bobby and his twin brother Earl surfed. First Bobby and then Earl, drawn out by the pull of his brother's courage. I walked Earl out with a board and cracked up when he screamed like a girl when the water hit his thighs. Every time a wave came up higher he would scream just like a girl and I was dying, trying to continue talking to him without laughing out loud. It was really hard!

I got Earl on the board, turned him around and pushed him into a nice little wave, which caught him up and carried him into shore, easy as pie. Meanwhile I looked to the left and there was Bobby riding the same wave into shore. It wasn't planned but just happened, maybe a nice little touch by God to show us who's in charge.

Then the baptism.

What can I say. It was huge. The beach was turned into holy ground and we were turned into God's holy people. Our three pastors – Marty, Patty and Troy – were beautiful and perfect for the job. The twins stepped forward to be baptized. Earl, the quiet brother, even Earl. For back in December at our Christmas party Marty, Senior Pastor at Church of the Messiah, told Earl about giving his life away to Jesus and inviting him into his heart. And so he did.

Then Pam Bolt stepped up to be baptized and it was then that my spirit really came up and I cried. Not that the others didn't make me feel so huge and lit up like a 4th of July show, but Pam was unexpected and a double scoop of blessing from God. She said that she had accepted Christ as her savior a long time ago but had never been baptized. So she came and did get baptized.

What a pleasure and honor to be able to provide a chance for my friends to complete the symbol of their internal baptism.

We were nearly done when someone ran up to me and said that Brandon wanted to get baptized. His Mom said he understood and wanted to do it. Meanwhile she was crying on the shore as we led the gentle Brandon down to the water and laid him back into the waves three times. Not once as might have been preferable due to our people being frightened by autism, CP, Down and a host of other things. Pastor Marty said we would dunk them the father, the son and the holy spirit trinity way..... and so we did!

If I died today I would go to heaven and tell the Lord about Surf Camp and feel that some of my work was done here. Wait, I can tell him.... Lord, I don't know about tomorrow or the day after. I don't know how much longer I have in this part of your kingdom, this part of my life. But I want to thank you for the service you have allowed me to do thus far.

Surf Camp was a dream come true and the baptism a dream within the dream. I think everything that comes along now is just a bonus. Gravy. Extra stuff. I can't wait!

My Living Dream

So Peter left the cell, following the angel. But all the time he thought it was a vision. He didn’t realize it was actually happening.

Acts 12:9

Sometimes my life feels like a dream. I don't just mean a wonderful dream state where everything is perfect. I mean a place where I'm not sure if I am alive and in this moment or being shown a vision and living out that vision. Or even sleep walking, day tripping, day dreaming or out of my mind.

I suppose if we're connected and embedded in God's own heart and mind, then we ARE in a way living out a dream and a vision. His.

The truth is that I seem to slip into moments of time where reality and unreality become twisted together and I wonder where I am and in whose dream I am playing out. During boomerang tournaments I used to go up to my buddy Juice, just before the first event, and say, "Tell me I'm here."

My psyche was so supercharged and excited and the adrenaline was pumping so much that I was temporarily unsure of my existence and needed to be reminded that I was there. Just to be sure. As I get older I do this for myself more and more. It has become more natural for me to simply accept that life sometimes seems like a dream and IS A DREAM.

Life is a dream within a dream, according to the Japanese. I like this idea very much and subscribe to it. Maybe that's why I waver back and forth between doing my very best to conquer my real world by way of business and other worldly success and trying to live my dream world by injecting humor and ridiculous fun into my life and the lives of others.

Naturally this does not go over so well with some folks. These are the folks that are frightened by the dream world and all that it brings. To them it is frightening and inappropriate to their rock solid world. For them my crazy antics and twisted interpretation of life is nothing but a whacked out medicated and incorrect version of reality.

Maybe they're right.

All I know is all I know. But knowing is partly about feeling life and learning is done with the mind AND the heart and soul. So many people miss this. So many people are completely disconnected to the amazing world that is all around us, a dream world within the dreams of their lives. They refuse to tap into this world because to do so would make them.... less real. But if God made us and all of creation then he made the dream world too, and so our dreams belong to him. As do we.

Peter was in prison and was sure to die the next day as had James before him. He was asleep, chained between two guards, with guards at the door. I wonder what Peter was dreaming about. Maybe Jesus came to him in his dream and said, "Peter, wake up. Do you remember when I saved you from drowning on the lake?"

"Yes Lord," Peter replied in his dream, "I remember. I tried to walk on the water but it wouldn't hold me."

Jesus laughed at that and said, "I held you, Peter. I held you. Now wake up!"

Peter fought against his dream Messiah and said, "But Jesus, I'm in chains."

"I'm setting you free, Peter. Now wake up and go do my work!"

Peter awakened and there was an angel next to him saying, "Quick! Get up!" Peter's chains fell off and he just sat there between the two guards who were still sleeping. He couldn't really believe what was happening and probably rubbed his eyes or pinched himself. Or both. Maybe he closed his eyes and prayed for God to wake him up. But he was awake.

Then the angel told him to get dressed and follow him out of the prison, passed the sleeping guards who were about to die, out of the locked door and back to his friends. All the while Peter thought he was dreaming. He thought it was a vision and he was sleeping or dead. But he soon discovered that he was living a dream within the dream of his life. The angel had been real and he really had escaped from prison with the help of God's servant.

I believe that God is all around us, in us and living inside and outside our lives, all the time and everywhere. The kingdom of God is like a dream world within which we can live, but it does not work the same way as our regular world. It seems odd and strange. Wonderfully strange. Beautifully warped. Amazingly and utterly bizarre.

I live in this world every day and all the time, and sometimes I wish I could stay there and not have to live in this other world, the world of man. I love the dreams that God gives me and lets me live within, the dreams of his heart lived out in my life. Living out the dreams that God has in me is not always a perfect thing. Often I stumble and fall, but always I know that he DOES have a dream for me, a perfect purpose for me. My hope is that I am living well in both worlds, melding them together so that they work perfectly in the perfection that is the Kingdom of God.

But in order to do this, I must think and dream big. All I have to do is live my perfect dream, the dream he made for me. Open up the eyes of your heart to the beauty of the Kingdom and may all your dreams come true.

My Three Sons

(L-R): Gavin, Ruben and Derek

1 Samuel 2:21
God was most especially kind to Hannah. She had three more sons and two daughters! The boy Samuel stayed at the sanctuary and grew up with God.

Dear Lord,

I reckon the title should really be My Three Little Brothers, but that just doesn't sound as good. It is possible that I may be a bit of a surrogate father to these three dudes, but I do not want to claim a title I have no right to.

Derek's Dad is a good man and I know him. He comes to some of the events and dresses up as Santa for our Christmas party. Derek always wants to be Santa too and I think he is secretly hoping that next year I'll fire his Dad so Derek can be Santa. He certainly won't need any extra padding, that's for sure!

I've never met Gavin's Dad, same with Ruben's. I don't know if they exist or not, but as far as I'm concerned they don't. I believe that both of the Mom's are single parents, which in my opinion immediately qualifies them for entry into the Angel Hall of Fame. Same with Derek's Mom. The Mom's are all angels and filled with such amazing endurance and grace that I am constantly awestruck and humbled.

They look at me and thank me for the few years of service I've given to their kids. But how does that compare with the years of constant service they have given? I give hours every week in their kid's behalf, while they give hours, days and weeks which turn into years and – eventually – a lifetime.

I get calls every week from my three sons, my three little brothers. They call me to hear my voice and to say hi. They call me to hear from someone that they know loves them and really wants them to succeed. They call to get love from a Dad figure they wish they had. I wonder why they would possibly want me in that role, but they do and who am I to argue?

Derek calls because he can't help himself and desires my approval. He wants to earns his stripes and be called to action and complete those actions successfully. Derek wants me to tell him the truth but to always give him hope. So I do.

Ruben calls me over and over because he forgets in his OCD remembrance. I don't answer for several calls and then I do. He keeps calling because when I don't answer it does not count to him. Only the conversation counts. He is going out on his own soon and wants me to walk that way with him. So I do.

Gavin calls me to spend a few minutes of his life with him. He wants to hear me ask him silly questions and ask how he's doing. He wants me to care about him and so I do. He wants to hear me say I love him so I do.

My three sons need me every week and sometimes several times during the week. I don't take all their calls and sometimes have to ask them to not call me so often. But I understand how important it is for them to hear my voice. I understand that I have assumed a position of importance in their lives.

Maybe my approval means that God will approve too. I don't know. I don't understand all their motivations, but I do understand that they need me to be there for them. So I am. They are all three of them painted permanently on my heart. I have a little bit of them there and they have a little bit of me in their hearts. We are heart brothers, brothers of the heart.

I used to think that I had two daughters, but now I know I have three sons. My three sons.

Cleaning up the Unclean

Two Young Life leaders from Kellam putting on a good face after getting pied at Va. Beach Capernaum

“But the voice from heaven spoke again: ‘Do not call something unclean if God has made it clean.’"

Acts 11:9

Peter was a man deeply committed to the notion that God had picked Israel and its people for his own purpose. He believed that he was set apart and unique and that he needed to keep the commandments to maintain that distance and separation from other people. Failing to do so would cause him to become impure and separated from his own people.

So imagine his discomfort when he had the vision that God gave him. A vision that showed all the animals considered unclean by the Hebrews: birds and hoofed animals, wild animals and things that crept upon the earth. These were all considered unclean by Peter and his people, the Israelites.

So naturally when God – in Peter's vision – said, "Get up Peter. Kill and eat," Peter responded as if God was, uh, out of his mind. He answered the voice in his vision by saying, "Surely not, Lord! I have never eaten anything impure or unclean." Which is another way of saying, "I eat only kosher food!"

But God was not to be trifled with and said, "Do not call anything impure that God has made clean." Wow! After all this time – during which God had given them explicit laws about what not to eat – suddenly Peter, a devout Jew and follower of all things in the law including eating kosher, was expected to eat food that God had before said was unclean. Food to be avoided at all cost was now food to be eaten according to God's word and will.

Can you imagine the confusion this brought to Peter? I can. That's probably why God repeated himself three times to Peter. Three times to make sure Peter understood clearly what he wanted. God wanted Peter to understand that there was a new covenant, a new law according to his son Jesus. And that new law of God was to consider all things clean and part of God's kingdom.

After a while Peter understood that God was really talking about people. He wanted Peter to accept all people into the kingdom, not just the "clean and pure" according to the old standards. The new standards, as shown in Peter's vision, was that anyone that accepted Jesus as the Messiah and as their personal savior was clean in God's eyes. Jews or Greeks, Samaritans or Romans, old or young, able or disabled. All people.

Before this Peter had never preached to or cared for non-Jews. But now God was expecting him to accept all his people. This was hard for Peter, but then God's commandments were not made to be easy and his personal expectations for us also can be extremely difficult.

God said to Peter – and to us – that we should never put down anyone that has been made clean by God. For me this extends to all people including people with disabilities. This means that God washes away all sin and makes pure all people come to him. He does not see their sin or their imperfections. He doesn't see their wheelchairs nor hear their speech impediments. To him they are the most beautiful and amazing of his progeny.

God makes us clean and washes our impurities away when we give ourselves to Christ. If he claims them and calls them beautiful, then who are we to not claim them and see their faults? We really have no choice but to follow Peter's lead when he followed God's lead, no matter how uncomfortable that made him at first.

It can be uncomfortable being with and accepting people with disabilities. But we have no choice but to abide by God's command to Peter and through him to us: do not call anything impure that God has made clean. The positive version of that would be to call everyone beautiful and love them if God has made them clean.

Now that's a clean choice we all can live with.

Matchmaker Matchmaker

Left: AJ showing off his beautiful bachelor party outfit at a local restaurant. Rusty is assisting AJ with a slight wardrobe malfunction.



It seems that I am becoming more and more aware of how much God is in everything and everywhere. I don't know if this means I'm discovering a whole new world, or just developing a new spiritual awareness of what's already here. To those that are not very connected to the spiritual world, you might reply, "Oh, really?" with perhaps a condescending tone. Why not? The statement might sound a little presumptuous or even prideful.

But for those who experience the same thing, you might reply, "Duh!"

How could I possibly miss all the amazing connections going on, and brought to you by none other than the Big Surfer Dude in the Sky. That's right ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together and give a big welcome to the JC, the Big Dude, The Host of Hosts and Lord of Lords. Give it up for GOD! OK, OK, settle down.

I think that God's kingdom is our world. Or – to put it more plainly – our world is God's kingdom. What seems so random to us because of the complexity and tremendously complicated systems and relationships, is actually a perfectly formed system that works according to forces beyond our control. And I ain't talking about Darth Vader, folks!

Today was a day where God once again showed me just as plain as day how much he controls life and is "the man." I got an email from my colleague and friend, Ben Conner. Ben is on staff with Young Life doing Capernaum in Williamsburg. He's also finishing up his doctorate. Ben wanted to know if I "had any connections" to get a cheap room at the Beach for his daughter's birthday on June 27. Doh!

I mean, how dumb can you be, asking a guy for a special room rate in the middle of the tourist season! But I figured it couldn't hurt to ask and did just that with a friend that owns an oceanfront hotel. I told him the situation; that Ben was in the ministry and basically broke. So he gave us a free room! How cool is that?

Oh, but it gets much better.

Shortly after that I spoke with Jim Howley on the phone about his daughter Regina's wedding on June 28. The only minor detail was that since AJ and Regina (both wheelchair bound due to Cerebral Palsy) were not going to get a marriage license (it would remove all of AJ's benefits) the church would not do a wedding without a license. Unless..... we could get a preacher outside of the church to do the ceremony without a license. Stay with me.

I got word from Jim that the church wanted me to ask Ben Conner if he would do the ceremony. Ben Conner? The Ben Conner that just asked me for a room on June 27 that would put him in town on June 28, putting him in perfect position to do the wedding? You mean THAT Ben Conner? Yup, that's the one. And they wanted me to ask him this, unaware that I had already been in touch with Ben about something else that very morning? Yup.

So I called Ben and told him the whole story. He said, "Why me, why not someone else?" I said, "Dude, you're being set up by God." Maybe God wanted to prove how big he is by bringing someone from out of town, providing a room and the means to do the wedding. Setting it all up. Stirring the pot. Matching everyone up.

No doubt about it. God IS the best matchmaker I've ever known, and I've known a lot of people. But I reckon he DOES have the advantage, being divine and all. A divine matchmaker. How cool is that?

I don't know if the church is going to agree with what God has already arranged. To me it can not be more clear that God IS arranging things according to his plan, not ours. So now the ONLY question is whether or not the elders of the church will see that and understand it, versus getting caught up in what they think is right according to the law of the land.

For me, I'll take God's law any day. I pray that in this case his plan becomes the church's plan. That what he has made obvious by arranging things in a perfect way will be accepted as OUR plan, the churches plan. That way Regina and AJ can get married in the church they love, before God and his people, and without a small and quite useless piece of paper supplied by faceless and nameless people living in Richmond.

God Rocks! God Rules! Everyone else.... just drools!

Love live AJ and Regina, God's chosen and most favorite.

Inside Knowledge

Jenny the Jewel looking HOT in her hot pink crown. Photos by Glen McClure.

1 Kings 8:37
Give what each deserves, for you know each life from the inside (you're the only one with such "inside knowledge"!) so that they'll live before you in lifelong reverent and believing obedience on this land you gave our ancestors.

Dear Lord,

As your own words say, you know each life from the inside. You're the only one with such inside knowledge of who we are and what makes us tick. In a way it is kind of like a Master Chief mechanic that can walk into the huge engine room of an aircraft carrier and know every inch, every piece, ever bolt of every bit of the mechanism that drives the ship forward.

But we are not machines. Oh no, we are much more complicated than that. Much more complicated. Even people with disabilities are complicated, don't you think? But fortunately they are oh so easy when it comes to love, both the giving and getting. I am thankful for that and very thankful that Capernaum has reminded me that the methods of giving and getting love I've used all my life were in fact correct. And still ARE correct.

Maybe that was and is because some of my inside knowledge comes directly from God. Just as the Master Chief leaves his mark on his equipment, so does God leave his mark on us and – hopefully – in us. This is a good thing. Because Lord, all the time that you spend in our hearts requires that you leave something behind. A mark, a scent, an image, a vision.

Perhaps it is some wisdom that you leave, like spiritual ectoplasm that slides off you and remains attached to the walls of our hearts. Maybe it's more like the room that is our heart gets supercharged with your energy so we KNOW you've been there before us. With us and in us. Not a thief in the night but a spring rain shower that clears the air, cools our brow and lets us breath again.

Your intimate inside knowledge of us means that you know everything about us. I do some things every day that I'd just as soon no one know. But you know. I'm not embarrassed. At least.... not much. Well, maybe a little. The amazing thing is that even with your inside knowledge, even knowing all that you do about me, you continue to love me and keep my faults secret, just between the two of us. I appreciate that very much.

I wish I could do the same with all the faults I find out about others. I don't really need to share the inside knowledge I have about them. Not unless it is of the good variety and what I'm sharing is bound to bless them and others.

Lord, I'm glad you have this inside knowledge of me. Forgive me for my dark side. Help me lead with your light so that the darkness flies away. Flies away. Flies away home. But it always flies back, Lord, and roosts like bats in my spiritual belfry, where it waits on me like a batty old friend that I wish would just go away. Yet I love them and don't really want them to leave.

I'm glad you love me, Lord. All of me, inside and out.

Josh the Supernova

Josh looking heroic at Capernaum's excursion to Laser Quest.
He was hunting girls...



Dear Lord,

I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to be part of Josh's baptism this morning. I don't know how you worked this one or why Josh waited until now, but whatever you did... thanks. Now I'm not talking about the symbolic baptism by water that we'll do next week to old Josh down at the beach. I'm talking the baptism of your spirit that poured out and into Josh's heart when he said the magic words that opened the flood gates of heaven and formed a new river between there and Josh's soul. That baptism, Lord. The dunking of his soul! You are a good God. Thanks.

Josh's Mom, Lynn, told me that during their morning Bible study, Josh decided to give his life to Jesus and wanted to be baptized at our Surf Camp next week. Well there you go! If ever there was a purpose for creating the Surf Camp, Josh's baptism would be it.

When we first started the camp three years ago there was a little bitty pea nut planted in the soil of my mind that started to grow and poke up into my thoughts. Why not do a baptism right then and there with the kids, right in front of the surfers and tourists and friends and complete strangers coming down to stare at the ocean and listen to the beauty of God's music, along with the bikinis, beach balls and books.

By this time last year that little peanut seed had become a peanut bush that could not be refused any longer. I KNEW we had to do a baptism and planned on doing it. Wasn't really sure how we would do it, but you knew. I didn't know if it would work, but you did. It hasn't even happened yet, but it will.

It will. You will. Josh will.

Josh is growing up fast, Lord. He is learning to make his fears disappear and stepping up and out of the boat to try things that just last year he would never had considered; Triple R Camp, picking on adults, going to Laser Quest, getting baptized. These are all things that take courage for Josh. The beauty of Capernaum is that he can watch what his friends do and mimic them. He can watch as they try some stupid new game at Club and then survive to tell the tale. This gives him faith and courage. This courage grows in layers until the day arrives when Josh is ready to do it himself.

A lot of people point to the leaders of Capernaum and call them heroes, and they would be right. But we tend to forget how heroic the regular members of Capernaum can be and are for kids like Josh. People with disabilities might look up to our leaders and be compelled by what they do, helped by their example. But they know that they are not the same as the leaders and their own disabilities mark them in a different way.

Just because the leaders do it doesn't mean they should. Or can.

But when a guy like Josh sees another friend with a disability do something cool or courageous or awesome or whatever, it gives them MORE courage, much more, than any leader ever could hope to. Because the playing field is level which means that it is fair and if he can do it then why not me?

I know that our Junior Leaders (kids with disabilities in leadership) have influenced Josh, but I'm thinking ALL the kids and people have. They give him a cumulative jolt of courage and encouragement, a collective spirit that has slowly helped build his will to the point where this morning he told his parents he wanted to accept Jesus into his life. I wonder how long that would have taken without his friends at Capernaum accelerating the buildup of his courage.

I think that Jesus has been baptizing Josh all his life, every day (same as all of us). He has been pouring his spirit into Josh and it was just a matter of time before Josh became aware of it and wanted to mark this awareness by inviting Jesus into the place where he'd been living since Josh was knee high to a grasshopper. Like having an invisible guest staying with you all your life and one day inviting that guest to come stay with you for the rest of your life and POOF he appears.

And you're like, "Gosh, you look really familiar. Have we met?"

God is with us our whole lives and when we make that move to invite him in by accepting everything that Jesus did and is, God doesn't say, "I will," but "I am." He's already there but the only question and point to the entire inheritance was did we want to get it all. Do we want to have Jesus turbo-charge our soul so we can fully assume the mantle of discipleship?

Josh was a beautiful little lightning bug for God and is now a supernova for Jesus. He was always the nova, but now he's super. He was always the man, but now he's a super man. Josh was always God's son, but now he's his main man, his disciple, his favorite. Because now that he's taken this move there are certain prerequisites, certain things he must do to fulfill the promise God made in him. Do you know what those things are?

I don't. Hey, this is Josh's life, and that's between him and God. His God. My God. Our God. So here's to Josh's perfect decision to invite Jesus in to sit at the head of his heart table. Here's to Josh and Jesus living together forever and ever as friends and so much more. Here's to Josh continuing to grow as God's disciple and fulfilling all that God has for him.

Because darn sure God has plans for him. Don't even make the mistake of thinking small about those plans or wonder how God can use a disabled person. God is huge and now lives within Josh. Hey, I guess that makes Josh huge, eh? Who are you to even try to comprehend the possibility God sees in Josh? He's God's supernova, his superman, his blazing comet streaking across the sky. Just sit back and enjoy the show!

Josh is gonna get dunked next week down at 60th Street Beach. 3:00 PM. Surf's up baby, surf's up! Hang ten, Josh, ride that wave in to Jesus, bro.

Happy Happy Sad Sad

Top: Big Nate (Club Leader) and Angela (Intern) show off their Capernaum Idol looks.

Middle: (L-R) Danny (Jr. Leader), JeanMarie and John "the midget" Koehler

Bottom: (L-R) some of the 125 party people at Va. Beach Capernaum's end of the year party at King's Grant Baptist Church




Dear Lord,

Monday night was the Norfolk Capernaum party and it was great. But then, you were there so you already know. Somehow I think your take on it was different than mine. Probably because I was aware of your presence much less than 100% of the time. I'm thinking that when I'm fully aware of you all the time I will be in heaven. Is that cheating?

But down here it ain't so easy, Lord.

Last night was the Virginia Beach party and cookout. It was – as is always the case with Virginia Beach – huge and amazing. Shoot, just look at the photo. I count about 105 people, and that's not including a lot of parents and others off to the right. We had at least 125 people there.

Now some folks would say that is entirely too many folks for a club devoted to people with disabilities. But thankfully, we are not "some folks" and never will be. Lord, thanks for making us YOUR folks, regardless of how purty we are and whether we can count past 10, or even spell the word "count."

I videotaped everyone and their mother too, interviewing them with the simple question, "What do you love best about Capernaum." There was no wrong answer. I got a lot answers like pizza and dancing, rock and roll, good times, games, etc. But by far the most common answer was things like it was a place to be loved no matter what. A place where everyone gets along. A place of fellowship and a place to learn about and meet Jesus. I'm working on that interview video. It will be a good one, Lord (in fact the video is done).

But here's the thing. After leaving I felt sad. I did. I wasn't sure why so I stopped off and got myself a Slurpee to try and take my mind off my sadness. But that didn't work, it just gave me a brain freeze. I realized that I was what would commonly be referred to as melancholic, sort of a happy sad. I mean, I'm gonna see everyone again next week at the Surf Camp, but this was the last time for this school year and closing the book on it just felt final and hurt my heart.

Lord, I know this sounds kind of whimpy for a grown man, but I'm just telling you the truth. Last night I said good night to my friends and missed them as if I would never see them again. All my little brothers and sisters that have become a part of me, a part of my heart that glows whenever they're around. I miss them already Lord. I miss them.

Do you feel that way when we turn our backs on you? If you do then I'm sorry for all the times when I've turned my back on you, because I don't want anyone to feel this way. It's not like being depressed. It is like a happy cake covered by a thick icing of sad.

I don't want to eat that cake anymore, Lord. I like it but it leaves a sad taste in my mouth. Can you just make the surf camp get here fast, please?


Watch You Tube interviews taken at the VB party. Click here

Mr. Speaker

Acts 18:24
A man named Apollos came to Ephesus. He was a Jew, born in Alexandria, Egypt, and a terrific speaker, eloquent and powerful in his preaching of the Scriptures. He was well-educated in the way of the Master and fiery in his enthusiasm.

Dear Lord,

Angela made me write this story. I'm tired so it is really short, like Angela. She has gotten pretty uppity ever since you crowned her as our next Intern. Lord, can you just turn down her volume a little? Just kidding. As if you needed me to tell you I was kidding.... that's pretty funny.

Angela wanted me to write about how we got our Camp speaker for Triple R Day Camp. She says it was a God thing, but I already knew that. Truth is that I'm getting closer and closer to believing that EVERYTHING is a God thing, and the only question is whether or not we accept you in the moment. It actually makes logical sense when you stop and think about it.

You made everything and everything was made by you. Therefore everything that happens in nature was made by the nature of your being; it was made by you. So regardless of the freedom of choice you gave us, you are still in everything that happens. Now the tricky part is knowing whether or not you got directly involved.

Some folks would call it chance. I just call it a God thing.

Last week Tara, Angela and I were meeting, as you know. One of the things we discussed was who we were going to get as the camp speaker. I told them that Kess (area director Chris Kessick) was not able to do it. We had just started to brain storm and discuss other speakers when my cell phone rang. It was Doug Haupt (that's him in the photo, dressed as a blind Ukrainian for a video) calling me about some technical help he needed for a talk he was giving to the Friday Morning Men's Group.

We rang off and then it hit me, POW!

"Wait, Doug could do it! He'd be great!" So I called Doug back and he was interested. And now he's gonna do it. Lord, I'm pretty sure you arranged this whole thing, in fact I know it. Either indirectly by your creation or directly by having Doug call me EXACTLY at the moment we were talking about a speaker.

It was kind of like a celestial head bonk. Doh! Call Doug back, you dolt!

Why was I so excited about Doug? You could have sent or we could have gotten ANY speaker and that would have been fine. But you sent the best. You sent the one man I know that thinks about you in a way that our kids think: honestly, in a simple manner and with huge gusto and fun. You sent a dude that understands what Jesus was talking about when he said he wanted us to come to him like children. Not childishly, but directly like a child, without all the layers of crap that adults bring to the table.... or the toilet.

We never really had a chance to pray for this man, Lord. But maybe our lives were prayers to you. Maybe you just wanted to remind us who you are and how you are. This was an easy thing for you, an eye flutter, a wave of your hand, a tap of your finger, a smile on your face. Maybe you helped us because we were not worried about finding a speaker and we knew you would provide. So you did, BANG! That was really pretty cool, Lord. If I didn't know you better I'd say you were showing off. Hey, I like to show off too! Maybe we're related.

All I know is that no one can touch you when it comes to bringing people together, Lord. No one can weave together the strands of humanity that are required for some endeavors to succeed... or not succeed. The complexity of the various humans aligning together is mind boggling. But then, your mind never boggles. You delight in us, don't you, Abba? You're pretty cool.

Yeah, you really ARE the best matchmaker, Lord. Thanks.

Ordinary Men

Dear Lord,

I am amazed and thankful that you have made a point over the years of using ordinary men and women to do your work, to fulfill your promises and execute your plans. There are so many examples of this all the way back to Genesis, and yet we seem to be surprised that it still happens today. Why do we think that you would change over the years? What is a year to you?

Or even two thousand?

I was listening to your word this week. Brian was reading from Acts 4:13

The members of the council were amazed when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, for they could see that they were ordinary men with no special training in the Scriptures.

John and Peter had been arrested by the members of the Jewish high council, because they had been inciting the people to believe in Jesus and go against the teachings of the Jews. Or so it seemed. Yet so many Jews were believing and putting their faith in Jesus as the Messiah their people had been waiting for; the Messiah spoken of in their scripture. Many were saved and believed due to the acts and words of John and Peter, along with other believers.

So the council of Jewish religious elders, Pharisees and Sadducees all, had John and Peter thrown in jail and brought before them the next morning. "By what power, or in whose name, have you done this?" they asked. That's when Peter kind of went off, full of himself and the Holy Spirit. He was so well spoken and so full of fervor that the men of the council shook their heads and whispered together.

They had spent most of their adult lives around learned men, scholars, the wealthy and powerful. They knew the trappings of education and prestige and could size a man up in an instant. They knew the men before them. Everyone did. They were fishermen from Galilee, blue collar workers as we say today. Tradesmen. An honorable profession to be sure but surely not one that would win a man power or great standing in the community, much less the religious community.

Yet here they were, preaching to the center of the Jewish spiritual and religious universe as if they were scholars, completely qualified to speak and state their views in a plain way. Not with educated words, but with the plain words of fishermen, words that all people could comprehend. Surely this was part of the reason why Jesus picked his disciples from the working stock of the Galilee and other parts of Israel.

He wanted ordinary men.

Perhaps that way there could be no doubt after Jesus was dead and gone that God himself – Jesus himself – was alive in these men and filling them with the Holy Spirit. How else could it be possible for them to have the knowledge that they had? Who else could fill them with the assurance and boldness to speak in front of the most powerful religious men in Israel? The effect was so powerful that the council members asked, "Who are these men?"

If God can use a fisherman, then why not me? If God can use a tax collector, then why not you? God uses the least of us to do the best of him. He does not care about our education of books but the education of our hearts. It took the disciples three years to become ready to go out and baptize in the name of Christ. But the truth is that even up until just before he died, they were still not ready and still not sure that he was the one.

And they saw him every day, including his miracles.

God takes ordinary men and women and gives us something extra. He gives us a part of him and adds it to our own power and nature. His extra combined with our ordinary makes us extraordinary. It is as simple as that. God can make anything ordinary into something extraordinary. He takes the normal and makes it paranormal, supernormal.

This is an amazing thing, an amazing fact. It gives me hope. All my life I have known that I was extraordinary, but felt stupid saying it. Now I can just say I'm an ordinary man with a little bit extra. A little bit of extra that everyone can get. As long as they know who to get it from!

May Change

for my brother, Kevin


Dear Lord,

Something happened to me on May 16. My life changed. You changed my life and I still don't really understand what happened or how you did it.

I still don't get it.

Tonight I told some of the guys from the Friday Morning Men's Group (please note the muy importante capital letters) about how you saved my life back in May. You remember. I had been dealing with the many issues of Capernaum and wondering if I was really the right guy for this ministry. I was feeling more and more that I was NOT the right guy and was in fact incapable of carrying the torch one step further.

Why weren't the others carrying it? Where were they? I moaned and whined about my lot in life and I just didn't want to do it any longer. Big baby! I was convinced that we could not keep Tara on staff next year, and that we'd have to become smaller. This made me feel even smaller and obliterated my life's stated purpose (according to moi) of going big or going home.

Truth is I was ready to go home, Lord. I was ready for you and would have been happy to go back home to you during that time. Or anytime. Why is it that life can seem such a struggle while other days it seems such a breeze? Your blessing is in the breeze and the lull, in the bad days and good. Your blessing never stops, Lord. Does it?

The way I was feeling was kind of rotten and old on the inside, like going up to the attic and finding your gramma's trunk from college, so cool looking and unusual. Then you open it and the smell of dust and decay overwhelms you; suddenly gramma doesn't seem so cool anymore.

I just couldn't seem to get rid of the musty smell in my heart.

I told the guys that this went on for several weeks in April and then into May. I struggled like Atlas, sure of my ability to overcome the odds and the test that you were putting me through, Lord. But I wasn't. I didn't even KNOW what the test was, all I knew was that something was not right in my world. I hoped that it was not me falling into another depression. I checked my meds and prayed that I was not falling down into the pit of doom. Yet it beckoned me.

I called out to you, Lord. You remember, don't you?

I never lost sight of you completely. I knew you were there, but you didn't seem to help me. Why is that? Why is it that when I fall I reach out to you the most and feel you the least? Is this all your idea? Do you WANT me to fall so I can realize that I just can't do it on my own? In some ways this makes you a masochistic God. But whey would you punish us with our own lives?

As a parent I have to let my kids figure some things out on their own. Sometimes I know they are going to get hurt, and that the pain will bring them understanding and teach them about life. So easy for me to say that as the distant parent. But they have to live it, and living it can flat out hurt like the dickens.

Why did you want me to live that way, Lord? Why did you wait so long before you pulled me out? I still don't get it. I was a mess and unsure of pretty much everything. I kept trying to save myself by myself and failing to do so. Like a guy drowning in the water trying to throw himself a life ring. You don't have a life ring, fool! Get over it, the game is over, dude. You are going to DIE, and there's nothing you can do about it. So just give in and let go. Let go and die.

Wait a minute! That's not you saying that, Lord. That's the stinky one. The lowlife that inhabits my heart. I know who he is. He's an idiot.

Lord, I walked through the desert for weeks and suddenly I was out. Something happened to me on May 16 and I do not understand it. My heart changed like a tide and everything that seemed heavy was light. My darkness was replaced with sunlight. My trepidation replaced by assurance and conviction that everything would be great.

You happened to me on May 16, Lord. But why then? Had I gone through enough? Was it the fact that I was at the end of my rope and truly did not understand how I could do it any longer? Why did you change my heart on May 16? I wish I knew but I don't understand it. It was one of the most subtle yet complete changes of heart I've ever had. Like falling asleep on an ice flow and waking up on a tropical isle.

On May 16 of 2008 you showed up and changed everything. You changed my heart and my life. You restored my soul and took control of my stronghold. Lord, I want every day to be May 16. I want you to constantly restore my soul and fill my heart with your peace and understanding. I want to be filled with your holy spirit, so full that the rest of me must flee along with the asshole that inhabits my heart, the evil one so cunning and cute.

Tonight Kevin told me to mark that day, May 16, and so now I mark it for you, Lord. Thanks for saving my life and for giving it to me, over and over every day. Thanks for your love and your love and your love. Love me like May 16 and never give up on me. I don't want to go back to the pit but if that is the only way to recapture May 16 again then I will go there for you. Because in the darkness I see your light. And in the darkness I know I am closest to another day in May.

Let Go

Every single time I listen to Imogen Heap (Frou Frou from her early years) sing, I bliss out and feel so great. There's something about her music that just makes me come alive and feel something more than I normally do. Now that's saying something for a man who is already overly passionate.

The power of her music combined with the beauty of her lyrics knocks me off my feet. I keep coming back to it and listening over and over again, no matter how many songs and playlists I have on my iPhone. I come back to it like a worn novel that I love and can't seem to stay away from, so I read it all over again like a long lost friend every few years or so. Like a comfortable easy chair that let's me dream big and welcomes me like an old friend, or more likely an old mother that wraps me in her embrace.

Imogen's music embraces my ears and my heart. It makes my heartstrings quiver in resonance and perfect pitch. I can literally feel myself spread out on the inside. I can feel my heart expand, like a solar flare that we never even see from our distant perch, but in fact is millions of miles long and amazingly powerful. The power of my expanding heart is immense and pulls me along with it. I go willingly.

Tonight, driving back from the very last Norfolk Club, I listened to Imogen's classic, "Let Go." This song is one of her fan's favorites on her early albums. Beautiful lyrics, awesome rhythms and syncopated beats. A nearly perfect song. Let's just say it is perfect, shall we? We shall.

I was driving back from Norfolk Capernaum after a great party, a send off to the summer. Everyone danced and hung out and we had a great time. My friend Glen McClure took photos of everyone. He's a pro so they will be amazing. http://www.glenmcclure.com/

I listened first to Collective Soul. Very strong, very rock, very solid. The strong music can actually calm me down in a strange way. The way some autistic kids have to listen to heavy metal music to calm them down. Like hyperactive kids taking stimulants to calm them down. It doesn't make sense... but it works.

Then I listened to Imogen and finally Let Go. The lyrics that have always amazed me, and about which I have always planned on writing about, are in the chorus:

So, let go,let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, l-let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

The words are so simple, so elegant and so powerful. I don't know what Imogen intended with her words or what she was thinking about. For me there are two concepts:

1. Talking to someone with a mental illness
2. An angel inviting someone to let go to God

The invitation is to let go and jump in. Don't wait, do it now because it's beautiful here. Don't be afraid because I'm already here and it is amazing. You feel like you're going to have a breakdown and you are, but there's beauty in the breakdown because once you get through it, you fall into the beauty on the other side. The hard part is falling through the breakdown. That is the scary part.

Like trusting the people behind you to catch you during one of those team building exercises. The song suggests an implicit and profound trust. You can trust me to help you through this. I'm already here waiting for you. Don't be afraid. The breakdown is ugly but the beauty is right behind it. Let go and fall in.

The angels call us too. They want us to let go and fall into God. But we are afraid and can see the ground far below, waiting to rise up and smack us dead. We don't believe it when they say that we won't fall down but up. Up where it is so amazing. We don't believe it when they say that we WILL fall down and bounce off the earth with our own Matrix moment. It will scare us to death, but after we die we will live again and the place we live will be amazing and beautiful. So let go and fall in.

The angels can see what we're missing but we can't. They can't believe we won't let go and go though the breakdown we must in order to see the beauty. They want us to give up and get in to God, to let ourselves go and give in to the process of our new birth. Making a jump of faith is flat out scary sometimes, when you're not sure what will actually happen. God's not right next to you holding your hand. You can feel his presence but what if your time is up and he's calling you home.

If that's the case then letting go is going all the way to the end of the game without passing Go. Maybe the angels are calling us home to be with God. Nah. But they certainly CAN call us out while we're here to be with God in this earthly kingdom. Imogen's chorus says so many things, depending on what you believe. I love that.

I'm not afraid to let go any longer and I've seen the beauty of the breakdown many times, literally and figuratively. I hate the pain of the breakdowns, when my spirit crashes and my ego is eviscerated. I don't care what they say about needing to go through pain to get to gain. For me it just hurts. I understand that on the other side there is gain and value and beauty, but why do I have to go through the breakdown to get to the other side?

I wish it wasn't so, but it is.

If you hold on to the things you are clinging to, the breakdown will come to you, but it may destroy you because you're too stiff and brittle, ready to break into a million pieces. That's like trying to be stronger than a wave. You can't do it. You have to let go and let it roll you where it will so you can come out the other side. That's how Mom taught us and it works.

Same with our lives. Sometimes you have to let go so you can be rolled around by the waves that march in as sets from your endless horizons. The waves are coming. Will you be ready to ride them? Will you let go so they can help you get past the breakdown? Or will you die in the undertow and rip currents, suffocate in the shallows where great mounds of foam choke the life out of you?

Let go and live. What are you waiting for? It is awesome here. Come on in, I'm waiting for you. Get in cause it feels great. Trust me, just let go and fall in. It's gonna hurt pretty bad at first, but then you'll be through it and out the other side. It's so beautiful here. I can't wait to show you.

Let go, let go. Jump in. It's all right, cause there's beauty in the breakdown.

Signs of me

Dear Lord,

I'm going to have Michael Simone stand in as a guest listener on this blog, with the full understanding that I am STILL writing to you and the title remains "Dear LORD"



Dear Michael,

Thanks for your voice mail about not being able to come to our Capernaum Surf Camp on June 21. No worries as our Aussie friends – and now all of us Aussie wannabees – say. I told you about the Surf Camp and invited you because of the baptism. I remember standing in the water with you and helping you baptize a bunch of people over on Chic's Beach some years ago. As I recall there were chicks and dudes there that day, but they still call it Chick's Beach.

I remember that day because after lifting so many disabled people up I knew how heavy people can be, even with the help of the water. That plus I knew I deserved to be there with you. Doesn't that sound funny and prideful? Yeah, I know it does. But the simple truth is that Jesus commanded us to go out and baptize in his name. He certainly wasn't just talking to pastors! He meant all of us, any of us, we all are worthy, so why not me?

The reality for me then was that, after so many years of struggling to jump up to your level, to be accepted by you and to somehow elevate myself in your eyes and maybe as a result God's eyes, I just didn't care anymore. Somewhere along the line I just stopped caring how people thought of me so much and cared more about how God felt about me.

Guess what? He thinks I'm pretty cool! I know, I know: PRIDE ALERT. Too bad, this is my blog, not yours!

The other thing I learned (again) along the way is that I'm the guy that puts me down the most. You never did. You accepted me from the beginning in spite of myself and the way that I am. You anointed me with oil when I was hurting and you challenged me to grow. But look, this is not meant to be some kind of Suck Up to Michael Fest! You already know I love you.

The point is that when I got in the water with you to help you baptize God's new disciples we were nothing but brothers in Christ, bound by the waters of baptism. The blood and water of Jesus carries us all along the river of life and no one can claim to be a perfect swimmer. Sometimes we cough and slowly drown until God pulls us back up like Peter on the lake. Sometimes like Peter we walk on the river and surf the waves in spiritual nirvana.

But whatever we do, the waters unite us and make us float together.



I enjoyed your sermon today, Michael. It was smart having JD bring those signs up there on stage so the congregation – including me – could see where they fit in and where their walk was. And, more importantly, that they were not alone. Being my worst enemy (perhaps with help from my buddy the devil, small "d"), I looked to the left and first considered those signs, the sign of the Seekers. Nah, I'm past that at least, thank you Lord!

I figured I was even past the second sign and had learned the basics of discipleship. But then I got hung up and wondered if I needed a sign in between two and three. A two and a half sign. No, I'm surely a number three sign. Ah, but what about four? No, I'm not worthy, so I started over again with number one. Shoot, I've got number one nailed.... and so forth all over again.

As you were talking I thought about how I never felt like I lived up to some of the expectations of the ministry I had joined, or the expectations of the churches I had joined or the believers I know. I go out of my way to tell folks that I am not a prayer warrior and that gift was never given to me. Yet it is so critical and important, so I feel my weakness in this area sends me running back to the first sign again.

I try to tell folks that I AM connected to God and speak to him at night when I lay awake for long stretches of time. I love those times and have learned to enjoy them, so different from those times when I fought against my inability to sleep while my brain tried to kill me in my black depression. But are those times I commune with God really prayer? I'm not kneeling or in any kind of a respectful position.

When I awake I thank God for the day and ask him what he wants me to do. Is that prayer? When I drive I think about things sometimes (not ALL the time, but more and more) and I talk to you about it, Lord (not you, Michael!). Do I have to do this out loud for it to count? So many times during the day and more and more in my life I can see you show up, Lord, and I acknowledge this with you. I can SEE you all around all the time. Or most of the time. And most is better than some and some is better then no time, that's for sure.

Sorry, Michael, I started talking to God again.... do you think this is a sign?

And what about reading the Bible? I have read it several times all the way through. Isn't that enough? Do I have to read it every day and what if I miss a day? Tree challenged me to one of those Bible in a Year things, the big jerk. Uh, I meant to say that beautiful, beautiful man. I love reading the Bible but I don't like HAVING to do it based on what some dude (that I love and adore) says. Who cares if he's my accountability partner. Isn't how I pray and read and give and worship between me and the Lord?

Why do people always have to get in the way?

Whatever the case, I thank God for Tree and his pushes, his nudges and his hammer falls. Being the clever man that I think I am, I decided to LISTEN to the Bible and now download it on Daily Audio Bible I listen during my early morning walks and voila, I am getting the Word of God delivered to me as I exercise my body... while I exercise my brain and heart. Two organs and more for the price of one! But is it really enough? What IS enough to make the jump from one sign to another. Is there a sign that proves the jump? Do we get a confirmation email?

I couldn't help but wonder, Michael, if I had or was actually doing enough based on the posters up on stage. Was I a poster child or just an impostor hiding behind the posters, marching in lockstep with other poster bearers, united in righteousness and perfection? Certainly not! They would never allow a barbarian to carry a poster. Only the perfect need apply.

I continued thinking about how I never felt like I fit in with the people of Young Life. They speak so well and seem to always know all the proper things to say, whereas I don't. Most of them were indoctrinated right out of college and grew up in their faith and the ministry, never tainted by the harshness and crassness of the secular world. Then I came along, so full of myself and my abilities and grossness. I was and am like a bull in the china shop, and they the dainty pieces of china. Crunch, crunch, crunch, I stumble around the shop and crush my friends. Why won't they love me, I wonder, as I crunch them beneath me.

I now know I can never hope to be like them because that is not the way God made me. He uses me in my strengths and my great weaknesses. The way I am is enough, regardless of what the signs say. He decides the sign for me, and so I will not worry about where I am. He knows and that's fine by me.

Then you closed it all out for me when you slammed that book down and said we can read all that we can, we can memorize that huge book and others about the Bible. We can study until we are recognized as a scholar and become an expert in all things to do with God's word. But if we do not live that word out in our life then all our knowledge is for nothing. A clanging gong, a horrible noise, a waste of time. I might have paraphrased a little bit there, Mikey!

You said exactly what I needed to hear, and need to hear over and over again from my God. Our God. You said that the real sign of our walk with the Lord is in what we do for his sake. The real sign of which sign we belong on, either far to the left or far to the right, is in the way we put feet on what we have learned about God and live about God, for his sake and all his people.

Michael, I am a freak of nature, and sometimes I truly truly feel like I do not belong here. I don't do things according to how others would have me. I don't always fit in. I tend to make a canon ball where a simple dive would have been much better for all, thanks very much. As you said once, "you are so BIG." I am, and no matter how small I try and make myself, I keep coming back to the simple fact that I didn't make me. God did.

And if he can use a man like me to do great things for his sake, then there must be hope for me, and for others. Maybe this means that I AM living out my life according to his purpose. Maybe I'm on that pathway even now. One thing's for sure: the path is NOT straight and easy, no matter what people say. The door is narrow and there are rabbit holes and thorns all along the way.

I don't know what sign I'm on, Michael, but according to the signs God has shown me and the way he is fulfilling his purpose in me, I can honestly tell you that mine is the sign of the cross. My cross is gnarly, has splinters and is covered with blood. But I'm holding on to it, baby, I've got a firm grip and no one can ever take it from me.

I love you Michael. I always have.

John

My Second Allergy

For my dear sister, Debi, who taught me about my allergy.


Dear Lord,

I want to thank you for saving my life. Again. Now I know that you are the reason for my life and made my life and all that. But I'm not talking about all that obvious stuff. I'm talking about saving me from my second allergy. Yeah, that.

My first allergy causes my nose to run like a firehose. Sometimes my nose speaks in tongues and I sneeze out the demon seeds hiding inside my nasal passages. Be GONE demon seeds! I have had these allergies most of my life. Being a guy I've never gone to the doctor about it, but have just learned to live with it, much to the delight of the good people at Kleenex. Truth is I'm not sure if I've blown some of my brains out my nose or not, but something sure has been coming out of me!

My second allergy started when you were first putting me together in my Momma's womb, when all the genetic mixture was coalescing into the little baby that would be me. My Mom and my Dad both had this allergy and had learned to not only live with it but chased it across the skies of their lives as if to say, "make me sick so I can live."

Lord, my second allergy is and always has been alcohol.

It has taken me fifty years to understand that even if an allergy is completely accepted by society it can still kill you. It has taken me forever to appreciate that, while I may enjoy the good side effects of my second allergy, the bad ones can very much ruin my life. No matter if these side effects are subtle or not, they creep, creep, creep up and slowly strangle you with the obvious and say, "Boy, can't you see I'm tryin' to kill you?"

My Dad and Mom passed on their allergy to me and I knew it. But I swore that I would never be like them. I would never beat my wife in front of my kids. I would never speak against my wife to my kids. I would never allow my allergy to make me so stinking out of touch that my family would be a walking time bomb with a short fuse. I swore that I would not become like my father, Lord and sure enough I never did do any of those awful things.

But then I did become like him in other ways.

In a funny way this may be the thing that is finally allowing me to forgive him for the great harm he did to my family. Maybe funny is not the right word; maybe it should be ironic or strange. Whatever the case, now that I've finally accepted the truth of my second allergy, I also have accepted the truth of my connection to my father. And my mother.

Both of my parents were alcoholics. Perhaps not in the classic sense of the world and as the world defines it: roaring drunks who can't stay away from any bottle of alcohol and secretly crave it all day long so they pour it down their throats until they are completely wasted. That is such a stupid definition and completely misses the reality of what it means to be an alcoholic or – if you prefer – to have an alcohol allergy.

Trying to define what it means to be an alcoholic is like trying to define what it means to be autistic. There are such a huge range of possible definitions that it is effectively undefinable in a group sense. One person acts like this and another like that. We each react differently to the alcohol that we consume. But no matter how we react, the bottom line is that the alcohol causes a negative allergic reaction in our body, which can cause similar reactions in our mind, heart and soul.

For me it was the anger. Alcohol made me angry. Not like a raging bull dumbass drunk. More like just a dumbass. Part of this has to do with my personality and the fact that I am so close to the edge of my passion, that I am so overloaded to begin with, that alcohol pushes me over with a gentle shove into anger and stupidity. The push can be gentle but the effect can be explosive.

For me this usually showed up in the things I said, but also the things I did. And it usually effected my family in one way or another, especially my wife. I stopped drinking several times in my life to prove that I could live without it, that I could be as happy and fun without it and to also prove that I was not my father.

Oh but I was my father. It just took me a while to figure it out.

At least I was part of him. I'm just thankful Lord that I was able to figure it out in time to save my life and the life of my family. Because Dad wasn't able to do that. He was the anchor that he tied around his own neck to pull himself down into oblivion and unhappiness. Even if he did sometimes see clearly through the haze of his allergy, it was way too late for him to go back. Or maybe not. Maybe there is hope for everyone, even my Dad. Too bad he died in 1981, because I didn't know what I know now. Could I have saved him?

No, but you could have.

Some of my friends get angry with me when I tell them why I've quit drinking. They tell me, "You're NOT an alcoholic. You just have a problem because of your meds and being bipolar." I laugh at them, because I understand them. We all have a definition of the perfect drunk, the perfect alcoholic, and I am not it. I'm too upright and healed and intelligent and amazing and how the heck could God or anyone else allow me to be an ALCOHOLIC? It just ain't fair.

I choose to be fair to my family and avoid using a substance that sometimes causes me to treat them in an unfair way. I choose to be fair to myself and free of a drug that can sometimes bring out the worst in me, all the way from the bottom of my garbage pile. I choose to live my life in peace and happiness and if I must avoid certain things to achieve that goal then so I will. I choose to stay away from the stuff that can make me so upset that I consider taking my own life.

I don't care if you call me an alcoholic or not. I don't care how you define me because you can't. God made me and broke the mold and I choose to accept who I am before I break me. It doesn't matter to me one bit if you understand or accept that or not. Not one bit. Because I can assure you that God DOES understand and accept it.

Lord, you never told us not to drink. You said don't get drunk, but instead to be drunk in the spirit. So now I will concentrate on drinking as much of your spirit as I can. Lord, I'm gonna need gallons and gallons of it, because I'm kind of thirsty. I'm gonna need you to help me maintain my joy and love for the life you gave me because I've still got a lot of work to do.

Thanks for saving my life, Lord. Thanks for whoopin' me upside the head so I could come to grips with my plain as day allergy. Give me another drink of your spirit Lord. Give me a taste of you so I can be inebriated in your love, consumed by your passion, drunk in your joy. Ah, the bouquet, the aroma, the flavor of your spirit!

Thanks for saving my life.

Harv & Jane

Dear Lord,

Patty and I moved to the Beach in 1994, as you may recall. That's pretty funny referring to your recall, as if your memory is like mine. Dang Lord, I sure hope not, cause lately I can't keep track of very much at all and if not for my neck I do believe I'd lose my head.

Moving back to the beach was a homecoming for me since I grew up here and stayed through high school (Cox HS, the best school in the state!). For Patty and for the both of us it was living out our dream: to live at the beach. The only question was WHERE at the beach. Ah, but you had it all worked out, Lord. We just had to decipher the path and plan you had already written. I'm glad we did. Thanks for waiting for us to catch up!

Living on the sand – as they call the oceanfront – was an expensive undertaking and not to be taken lightly or with a little bitty bank account. They called it the gold coast and they were right. Even so we demanded the right to live out our dream where we wanted to, so we hunted and searched high and low, concentrating on the North End.

It all started when I decided in a rather quick way that it was time for me to start my business and for us to move to the beach. Patty did not agree with my timing on the former but agreed to the latter, so we both set out to the find the right house in 1993. We first looked at the house we now call home when it was priced at $269,000. More than we could afford, but we sure liked the location even if there were problems with the house. So we waited.

We put our Maryland house back on the market in February 2004 and it sold in two days. So we RACED back to the beach and discovered that the same house was now priced to sell at $219,000. We knew we had to have it and we did, after jumping through some mighty skinny hoops and leaping over some mighty high mortgage hurdles. After all, my new graphic design business was less than a year old, which was not a good thing. But our mortgage broker and a huge down payment from the Maryland house sealed the deal. We moved in.

Lord, I think that life is really a series of your blessings that happen one after the other. The problem is that some of your blessings we receive do not FEEL like blessings to us because they are hard or difficult or make us angry or have to grow in some way we did not really wish to grow in, thank you very much indeed, God. So just BACK OFF! Oh, sorry Lord, I was just explaining how it can feel. But then, you already knew that. Tricky!

I think that one of our greatest blessings was moving to this street in this city and into this house. Because right next to us lived (and still live) Harv and Jane Hofferbert. I remember meeting Jane the first time. Her house sits above ours on an old dune line. She was outside when I was walking around our house on a day back in March of '94. I yelled up to her and then I ran up the vine-covered hill to meet her and shake her hand. She never did forget that and I laugh when I think about it. You set the whole thing up, Lord. You ARE the best matchmaker!

You know, I think I ran to her because my spirit new that here was a woman of God. Your woman, Lord. You already knew her. Here was your woman, so full of kindness and love and joy. And weren't we just the luckiest people on the planet, the four Koehlers, to land right next door to Harv and Jane? Yes we were and I knew it right away, because you showed it to me as plain as day, like a daffodil in the snow.

All our neighbors are special and love us about as much as we love them, which is a LOT! But there is something wonderful, supernatural, and yet simply awesome about Harv and Jane. They just are. They are there all the time. They are nice to our kids. They are always thinking about us. They are our neighbors and they stick up for us. They are there for us. They are.

Shoot, Harv was the construction project manager for us when we built the addition and put a ton of time into the job, for which he took no money. He just did it because he loved us and wanted to help. Well, at least he loved Patty and the girls, cause now I'm still doing graphic design slave labor to make it up to him. It was a good trade.

Christians sometimes make a fuss about how we are supposed to act and think and do things. I think we sometimes worry too much about these things when we should probably spend more time thinking about you, Lord, and not enough time just living our lives out in the way you said to: by loving one another. I don't reckon I know what the belief systems of Harv and Jane are, Lord, and truth be told I don't rightly care, because I can see the evidence of you in all that they do.

I would take Harv and Jane over many of my Christian friends any day of the week, because I trust them completely and I've seen their core and I know who they are by what they have done for me and my family. Some things can not be faked and the proof is always in what we do and the evidence we leave behind like Kilroy and his carvings.

I don't think that there are two finer people alive in this city then Harv and Jane Hofferbert. I really don't. They are the very best neighbors we could possibly have asked for. Our daughters, Patty and I are better people as a result of our living next door to them. I really can't do an adequate job of explaining why I feel this way, because it is so wrapped up in the simplicity of life.

Lord, you are around us all the time, whether we see you and your creation or not. You are in every person, every thing and every where. You are clearly and unmistakably in Harv and Jane, and for that I am profoundly thankful to you, Lord. I thank you for Harv and Jane and ask that you allow me the privilege of being their neighbor for a while longer. Just a little while longer, Lord. A little while longer.

Visit them tonight and tell them again how much you love them. Tell them how special they are and that they are your favorites. Tell them, Lord. Over and over again.

Josh

Dear Lord,

I have never met Josh but you have. Even so I have been thinking about him for the past week. I found out that Josh – son of Bruce – was diagnosed recently with ALS. Lou Gehrig's Disease at the age of 35. Not only that, but he was an athlete, a man in complete control of his body, his mind and his entire destiny. A young son, a wife, an excellent career. Fame and fortune, the good life following in the footsteps of a Dad who already had it made.

Everything was good and right in Josh's world. Then it all fell apart and he became Humpty Dumpty and fell off the wall. And all the kings horses and all the kings men could not put him back together again. Not even John's Hopkins or the other hospitals and special cocktails and leading edge institutions could halt the spread of the wicked beast that is ALS.

His life ended and he became a cripple. Game over, dude, game over.

Usually when someone becomes paralyzed there are stages they typically go through. The first is often complete and total despair and grief. Abject horror and disbelief that can quickly lead to hopelessness and a desire to no longer live. After all, what is life if you don't have your body anymore? What's the point when your limbs become useless to you and no longer answer the many calls you used to never think about.

Why SHOULD you choose to live when life itself turned on you and God turned his back on you?

In your despair and grief you realize that you must bury your body and the funeral is something you never wanted to attend. Your funeral was supposed to be the final act of your life, when ALL of you had died and you went to heaven, but now you must bury parts of your body that have died and gone not to heaven but to hell. You can't bury them in the end, and are forced to live with the dead parts of you, the caretaker of your own cemetery, the cemetery of your life. You are a dead man walking, but not even that anymore because you can not walk, and are reduced to crawling or rolling on a wheelchair, something you have sworn you will never do, because it is beneath you.

After despair anger comes and does a complete takeover when you realize that this is really it, this is what you're stuck with. This is what you get after working so hard and being so good. You look at all the poor schleps that have so much more than you, starting with bodies that work and you wonder, "Why them and not me?"

Your anger turns bitter inside of you and you like the feel of it, all consuming and powerful. Your friends and family fear you and this fear becomes the only thing you can control anymore. Why should you be nice when the world was not nice to you? Why should you consider anyone else but yourself?

You used to think of the world out there and your vision was cast so far out that your spirit would take flight and soar while you were asleep and sometimes when you were awake. But now you can't see past your useless toes, and looking beyond your bed seems a waste of time. Your dreams have turned to nightmares and your wings have been clipped. You no longer soar like an eagle, but sit and waddle as an earthbound spiritual penguin.

You live for your anger and nurture it like a prized pet. It consumes you and feeds you at the same time, while it burns everyone around you. You used to be a loving man but the love died along with your limbs and you have no more love to give. Or so you think. But you can feel it poking around the edges of your heart; you will not welcome it back. Not yet, no not yet. For you have not finished with friend Anger yet.

Lord, Josh is stuck in his anger. He wants to move on but he can't. Please help him move on into the light of his new destiny, Lord. He can already feel the pull but he does not want to leave the comfort of his pity and pride. His personal pity party is full of black crepe paper and he hopes it will never stop. Never stop. Never stop.

Lord, show Josh his purpose in his new life. Speak to him in his dreams and hold him in your arms. Fill him with your love and teach him how to love again. Remove his blindness and give him your vision, the vision of possibilities and hope. The vision that says look within for perfection, not without. The vision that starts with the last unaffected refuge in his body: his mind.

Lord, let me meet Josh so I can lift him up. Let me meet him and if I do I pray that you will work through me to lift him up to the purpose you have for him. The purpose that he is avoiding even though he knows it is there waiting for him on the other side of his life. Help him to get over his pride so he can get into his life. His new life. His only life. His beautiful life.

Maybe you brought me through the void of time today for Josh. Maybe I can be the one that can help tip the balance that his family and friends have worked so long on. Come back Josh. Give it up Josh. Fight back, Josh. Quit being such a dumbass, Josh! Can't you see that your life no longer belongs to you. God has a purpose for you, even in your disability. You are disabled now and there is nothing you can do about it. Get over it!

They may find a cure one day, but they will NEVER find a cure for your anger and peevishness and pigheadness. Only you can find a cure for that.

Today I watched a TV spot by the Washington state lottery. It showed some hang gliders taking non-flight birds on flights. Penguins, chickens, emus. It was beautiful and it made me cry. It made me realize once again how awesome it is when a friend helps his buddy to do things he can't do on his own.

Josh used to fly, Lord. He used to fly across the skies of his life. But now he can't fly anymore. He's grounded. Ahhh, but maybe he still can fly if he let's his friends help him. Maybe he can still do the things he loved before. Help him do this, Lord. Help him be awesome and amazing on his own by allowing others to help him be awesome.

Lord, help Josh get to the next phase, the phase of acceptance, love and desire. He's close I think. Very close.

Peter & Forrest

Dear Lord,

I was struck by Forrest Gump as I did my morning walk today. Not struck as in struck by a truck or a newspaper boy, though they tend to be men and women in cars nowadays. Thankfully I wasn't struck by anything or anyone physical, but by your words as I listened to Brian read them to me on the Daily Audio Bible; he read the end of John's Gospel.

Jesus had been appearing to the disciples after he came back from the dead. This was the last time, the third time and the last visit. His final goodbye. The disciples had gone out with Peter to fish during the night, but they had no luck. On the way back in they saw a man on the shore; it was Jesus but they didn't recognize him.

Jesus told them to throw their nets over the right side of the boat and they would catch fish. They did and John exclaimed, "It's the Lord!" Can you imagine the moment, so matter of fact and yet wrapped in the supernatural? I think this is usually the way that God reveals himself to us, in natural ways and yet simple ways. In ways that make perfect sense to us. That's why we often don't recognize him when he does appear. We're always looking for the magic carpet and the burning bush while we miss the beauty beneath our feet, all around us.

If God loves us as much as he says he does, then that must mean that he's around a lot, showing himself to us and we..... just...... don't..... see...... him. He's everywhere yet invisible. Obviously deceptive. Simply complicated. Ridiculously normal.

But John DID see him and told the others. I love what happened next, when Peter realized that it was Jesus on the shore, 100 yards away, with a charcoal fire burning and breakfast cooking.

Here's what the Bible says in John 21:7-8

As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, "It is the Lord," he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water. The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards.

Peter could have waited for the boat to be rowed to shore. That would have been the prudent thing to do and the course chosen by the other disciples on the boat. They were only 100 yards from shore and they would have been there in five minutes or less. But Peter, ever the impulsive one, always reacting from his heart with passion, did the only thing possible for him to do. He wrapped his cloak around him and dove into the water.

Interesting that: why wrap your outer garment around you? Most folks take off clothes when they go swimming, but Peter put them on. All he cared about was getting to see Jesus as soon as possible. All he wanted was to close the gap and not waste a second of doing the right thing and slowly bringing the boat in while remaining dry. Get wet and get there faster.

Forrest Gump did that once in the movie. He was anchored on his shrimp boat a ways from the dock when Lt. Dan told him his mother was sick. Forrest straightened up, looked at Lt. Dan, and dove into the water and swam to shore. Exactly like Peter did when he heard about Jesus. Both men acted immediately to get to the one they loved. They impulsively reacted to the news and the evidence that their loved one needed them and – as is often the case – was still needed by them. They relentlessly pursued their goal and did not rest until it was achieved.

I am like Forrest and Peter. All too often I act impulsively and out of passion and desire with no thought to the possible outcome. I know all the warnings about responding instead of reacting. I've heard it all about being careful to do the right thing and not act rashly. But sometimes it is the right thing to act wrong. Sometimes the best thing is the doing the worst thing according to standards.

Forrest's momma was dying from cancer and Forrest had to get home to her. Nothing else mattered to him or ever would until he had done his duty to her. Peter knew that Jesus needed him to be close. He knew that this could be the last time. He knew he needed to be with him and touch him, hold him one more time. Just one more time.

So he jumped over the side of the boat like Forrest would do two thousand years later. Two men jumping into the water with all their clothes on and without a care in the world except the relentless pursuit of the love found in the most important person in their lives. His momma and his Lord.

Lord, I hope when my time comes I will not think at all with my head but follow the call of my heart and leap over the side and into the water of your love.

When Anyone...

Dear Lord,

Today was a good day. A very good day. Naturally I didn't get everything done that I needed to get done, but still, it was a good day.

As usual I started the day with my walk down Oceanfront Avenue. That immediately makes me a blessed man, just to say I walked down Oceanfront Avenue. Seriously, everyone and their mother (and maybe even their father) wants to live close enough to the ocean that they can take a morning walk along Oceanfront Avenue.

Of course some posers who live away from the beach might drive down, park and then walk along the beach. But they are wannabes, Lord. I am the real deal!

Oh, sorry, I got carried away because it's late in the day and I'm full of myself. OK, deep breaths.... out with the pride and in with God. Maybe I should have written this in the morning when their's much more of you and much less of me, Lord. Too late!

I walked this morning and listened to the Daily Audio Bible and my friend Brian Hardin. OK, so maybe we're not REALLY friends. More of a one-way friendship: I listen to him most mornings by way of my iPhone after downloading it from iTunes, after he uploaded from Nashville or wherever he happens to be on the road, in whatever translation he's using that week.

I have listened to Brian read the Bible to ME since January, so doesn't that make him my friend? Just because I can't talk back to him doesn't mean I don't count him as my friend. One day I'll meet him and complete the obvious.

This morning I finished listening to Brian read about David on the run and then being re-crowned as King after his son is killed. Then Jesus comes back from the dead and walks and talks among the disbelieving disciples. Then Psalms 119, so long, so long and a couple of Proverbs.

I had some time left on my walk, so I put on Ladysmith Black Mombasa. I wanted one of their spiritual songs and picked "Jesus is my Leader." Such a great song to listen to. So powerful as the Africans chant in English, a second language for most as heard in the unusual pronunciations. But instead of being discordant it is beautiful.

Jesus is my leader on my journey... Jesus!
Jesus is my leader on my journey
Jesus is my light on my journey
Jesus is my savior on my journey
No one without Jesus Christ

It is such a powerful acapella song with their deep voices resonating in a way that only African men can do. They go on in the song talking about Jesus coming as the light of the world and then a kind of Lord's prayer recitation. Then the lyrics that struck me down and made me stop, made me think and made me want to write about it here, on this blog.

When anyone.... when anyone
Is joined to Christ
He is a new creation
Old is gone
New is come

This is of course a reference to 2 Corinthians 5:17:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!

Depending on the translation it says IF anyone or WHEN anyone, but ANYONE is the constant. I love that. I love the idea of this and listening to it be sung by Ladysmith brought it home to me and made it real.

It doesn't say that someone, but ANYone. That is so hopeful and amazing and completely inclusive for all your people, Lord. Almost as if you made us all and want us back. Almost as if you are inviting all of us to come back to you. You miss us and want us to come home. Anyone can come. All are welcome.

Even completely broken people. Even kids with disabilities who can't even be accepted by people, much less God. Why should they even try to believe the invitation and that you really do mean ANYONE, as in them? How do you tell a kid with CP that is locked inside his head due to a horrible speech impediment causing people to think he's mentally retarded. Lord, if you made him then why include him in the "anyone" when he's so imperfect?

Doesn't "anyone" mean the few, the proud, the chosen? Don't you have to dress a certain way, talk a certain way, speak a certain way and walk a certain way to be invited into the kingdom of heaven?

Well..... apparently not. When you told us (through Paul) that ANYONE could come to the call, you really did mean anyone. You meant the beautiful lady with the broken heart and the little kid with the broken spine. You meant the middle aged deaf man so full of anger he spits bullets and the teenager so hopeless she's thinking about a whole new way to use her belt and end it all.

Jesus did not come for the healthy, but for the sick. The weak and wounded, the poor and hopeless, the outcast and sick. Jesus came for all of us and for ANYONE.

Imagine that.

When anyone...

Ashley on the side of the road

Dear Lord,

It's been a long time since I last wrote to you directly. I mean, I have been really writing to you whenever I write, but this is the first time since 2005 that I've actually started a letter to you. Not Dear John, or Dear Mary, but Dear Lord. So that in and of itself is somehow important.

I think part of it has to do with sending off my book to the editor. I know, I know; you already know this, and you already know why I did this. But I don't and am trying to figure it out. I just sent my baby away and now have nothing on the pot to stir. I NEED something to do, someone to write to. And since I didn't really want to write to any particular earthlings, I figure you will do just fine. Better then fine. So let's get on with it, shall we?

I have a lot to tell you about, but I want to first tell you about Ashley.

I was on my way home from the Noblemen meeting. Normally I would have driven right over to Pacific in order to avoid the tourist traffic along Atlantic but – for some reason or other – I stayed on Atlantic. As I came around the curve to the light at 43rd street, I saw a girl (a young woman) sitting on the curb facing the Cavalier.

She had her head down and under her arms. She looked dejected and alone. No one was around. When I saw her there I KNEW I was meant to be there for her. I know it sounds corny but I knew it was true. Not a knight in shining armor or even a noble man, but a brother. She needed a brother.

In a split second I considered the situation: a young woman sitting on a curb and an older guy that wants to "save" her. Maybe even give her a ride in his hip hop bad to the bone mini van. Now THERE'S a sexy ride! So I laughed as I made a quick U-turn and pulled into the parking lot where she sat.

I pulled up and said, "You alright there, little sister?" It was exactly the right thing to ask. Not, "Can I help you?" or "Are you feeling all right?" Of COURSE she's not feeling OK. Duh! Any fool with a mule brain could see that. And since I was somewhat related to a mule, being a member of the genus that covers mules, donkeys and asses, I just drove on up to that young woman and offered a kind word, hoping against hope she wouldn't think I was some kind of a pervert.

I mean come on! I teach my daughters to never ever trust a guy, especially a stranger, much less a strange stranger. I qualified in the last category. But fortunately she looked up at me and said, "No, I'm OK." To which I replied, "Well, you sure don't LOOK OK." She thanked me for stopping to help her and looked at me for the first time. I said something else and she stood up and started walking over to me.

I knew right away that she was kinda drunk and my first thought was, "Oh no, she's some kind of vagabond that's gonna hit me up for a few dollars or something. Can you beLIEVE that? That just about makes me the worst kind of scumbag there is. Here I was worried about her thinking I was a scumbag and then I was THINKING like one.

But she was no vagabond. Her name was Ashley and she was in the Army. She was heading over to Kuwait in a few days and was staying with her family in a Holiday Inn, two blocks down. She was upset because her good friend Josh had died last week and she was "close to him." I guessed that she was thinking about her own mortality and going to Kuwait. Maybe that ain't right in the thick of it like Iraq, but it sure is close.

Maybe she was thinking about what was ahead. No man, just the Army. How close was she to Josh? I didn't find out and will never know. But you know what? I was able to help that girl. I talked with her about Josh and then we prayed for him and his family. And for her. And that little girl started crying right there on the seat of my van and I'll tell you the truth, I DID feel a bit good about that.

I drove her the two blocks back to her hotel and got to meet the Mom who was shaking her head from the balcony about her long lost daughter. The head shake that told me Mom was over her baby girl. I could relate, with two girls of my own.

But you know what, Lord? I reckon I'm mighty happy you kept me going straight when I coulda gone left. Thanks for taking me down Atlantic so I could help young Miss Ashley. Lord, I would surely appreciate it if you could keep an eye on her, because no matter what her Momma thinks, I think she is a fine woman, through and through. Shoot, you made her, so what could be better?

Visit her tonight Lord, in her dreams, and whisper your love song to her. Take away the heart sting she feels for Josh. Become her Josh and take her in your arms tonight, Lord. Take away her need for the bottle and replace it with a feeling of contentment, love, peace and joy. Heck, while you're at it, send her a man. In fact, send her THE man, the one you picked out for her a long while ago. Yeah, that one. Send her that one.

I love you, Lord. Night night.

John