The Adventure

I was part of a church that had for its motto, “Share His Adventure”.  It was a reminder that God was doing something and we could be involved in it.  It was God’s adventure and we were able, if we chose, to join the journey. His journey, His adventure. Now, this adventure journey that we can go on, can and will lead us to great experiences and encounters.  And sometimes, the journey that we are on will intersect with a journey that someone else is on.  This story is about such an intersection.

The last week of July found us in eastern Washington visiting T.’s parents for a few days.  They live on one side of the Snake River and Idaho is on the other.  One day, we all went to a park along the riverfront on the Idaho side. This would, hopefully, be a good spot for me to take photographs and a great place for our little one to run and play and swing. 

The riverbank was and easy little climb and at the top there was a paved walkway.  I took a few shots, but all in all, there wasn’t a whole lot to photograph.  I found a bench facing the river and sat down.  I guess I was hoping something might catch my eye.  And something did.

As I was sitting there, I noticed that there were three teenagers, two girls and a guy, angling their way up the riverbank heading toward me. As they were approaching they said hi to me. And then they asked me this question.

“Do you know where we could buy a Frisbee?”

I told them that I did not, because I was not from here, but there might be some shops down the road.

Them:  “Oh.  Well we’re not from here either.  We are on a mission trip.  Where are you from then?”

Me:  “Oregon.  From the Salem area.”
One of Them:  I have an aunt who I think is from there.  I visited there a long time ago and went to the ocean.”
Me:  “Where are you guys from?”
Them:  “Nebraska.”
Me:  “My dad was from Valentine, Nebraska.”
Them: “Cool.”
Me:   “So, you said you are on a mission trip?”
Them:  “Yeah, have you heard of YWAM?” 
Me:  “Yes, Youth With a Mission.  That’s neat.  So what church are you from?”
Them:  Trinity Lutheran Church.”
One of Them: “So, are you a Christian?” 
Me:  “Yes.  I go to Capital Baptist Church. And my wife and I work with youth and college age group”
Same One of Them:  “ So, you’re a strong Christian then?”
Me:  “As strong as I can be, being me.”
Still Me:  “How’s the mission trip going?  And what are you doing for it?”
Them:  We’ve been at an Indian reservation.  Talking and playing with the kids.  We leave tomorrow.  It has been a neat experience.  We’ve been gone two weeks.  The first part of the trip was a little spiritual retreat reading the Bible and strengthening our relationship with God.”
Me: “It is very exciting to see you guys serving the Lord like this.  Just understand that once the emotional feeling starts to dissipate and you are back home, don’t forget the work and encounters you have had.  Even though the excitement has gone, you did good stuff by  sharing your faith in Christ.”

We then exchanged names and talked for a while about different things.   I could tell that this mission trip had made an impact on A., M., and J.’s life and they were going back to their homes different. 

One of Them:  “I still can’t believe how beautiful it is here. With the mountains and trees.  It’s just gorgeous.”

At this point, I look at the surroundings as well.  All I see is brown dirty hills and scrawny little trees.  Coming from the Northwest, my standard of beauty is Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainer, the Cascade Range, the mighty Columbia River, evergreens side by side, packed together like sardines, and the great Pacific.  Eastern Washington, compare to that, is wanting.

But coming from Nebraska, as they were, and coming from flat, this is a welcome and noticeable change.  If they liked this, they would love Oregon.

One of Them:  “Can we pray with you?”

Me: “Yes, and I want to pray for you guys as well.”

And there we were, a high school sophomore, a junior, a senior, and an adult standing in a circle on the edge of a riverbank holding hands and bowing our heads. Three Lutherans and a Baptist joining together with one heart and mind praying for one another.  We were just four people from the Midwest and from the Northwest, together with our God. I would argue that this was no coincidence.  After we said goodbye, I couldn’t help but wonder if their initial question of wanting to buy a Frisbee was their way to open up a conversation about Jesus to a stranger.  

As they were on their journey sharing His adventure and I on mine, we were, for but a moment, put together.  And even though they came west for one purpose and I came east for another, we met.  And we rejoiced together.  And we encouraged each other.  And I believe we, in some way, recognized that even though our Christian journey takes us on different paths and experiences, that journey will always lead us to one place.  At His feet.

What a journey!  What an adventure!

 

"Stranger" Things

My son never met a stranger. It is very interesting to observe my three year old in action. Walking down the aisles of the grocery store and also at the checkout line, he is there with his ever so friendly, “Hi, how are you?” And I think he really means it.


We were at an antique mall at the coast a while back, and as we turned the corner a gentleman walks by and my guy says, “Look, my friend! Hi, how are you?” And the other day sitting in his shopping cart he sees some one walking his way and he got the biggest grin and said, “Hi, friend.” It was as if he had just seen a close friend and the joy was pouring out of him. The thing is, I’d never seen that guy before in my life, and unless my son is sneaking out of the house and cruising the town at night, he has never either. My boy is just friendly and outgoing.

Who knew two introverts could produce such a strong extrovert. Yes, my wife and I are introverts. Most people can easily tell with me. My shyness is often mistaken for being standoffish. My need for solitude can be misdiagnosed as self absorbed and uncaring. One person had noted that I “keep my cards so close to my chest, that I don’t even know what they are”. My wife is less introverted than me, but she is. She has learned how to be in a crowd and be friendly, but her nature is still that of introversion. And we have the personality tests to prove it. Yes, we are both INFJ’s. I’m not sure how my boy would test, but the first letter is sure to be a big old E.

There are, I believe, a few reasons for my “never met a stranger” son. One is, well, he’s three. And when one is little like that, there seems to be this innocent freedom and an unawareness of danger. I recognize the issue here as this world is a scary place and not all people are good and kind. More about this later. This brings me to another factor of his outgoing friendly attitude. He has a good environment in which to grow. I am especially speaking about the church we attend.

I have mentioned before that he really likes church. When we arrive, he will make a beeline to his favorite person, the Sunday school clerk, Miss F., and give her a great big hug. And now he seems to have added “Hi grandma,” to his vocabulary. He will proceed to call the other ladies there, who seem to fit that description, in his mind, “grandma” as well. There is, in no particular order, grandma F., grandma L, grandma N., grandma M., grandma R., etc. I am sure it is easy being so friendly and outgoing when you have so many great grandmas in your life.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that, even though my little I. has so many grandmas, he has only one, and only ever one “Nana”. She is my wife’s mom and my guy thinks the world of her. And his “Papa”. He enjoys talking on the phone with them. And when we visit, my guy is in play “heaven”. There is the “run down the hall and yell” game, the “go fish” game, and the “hide and jump out of a room to startle game”. I am not sure who loves these games the most.

So, with his personality, age, and environment all factors for his expressive extroversion, we try to encourage him to grow in his “no stranger” policy. It is a shame, however, that we will have to share and teach him that he also needs to be careful and discern good situations from bad situations. This is the nature of the world. But, I do not want to squelch that which clearly seems to be a quality or attribute given to him by God.

I want him to be friendly. I want him to be nice. I want him to think the best in people. I want him to be hospitable.

We live in a world where fear, uncertainty, hatred, and loneliness are the prevalent attitudes of the time. What better way to extinguish them, than with a hearty and well meaning, “Hi, how are you?” What better way to show and share the love of Jesus than being truly welcoming and bighearted? We must never “neglect to show hospitality to strangers”. Who knows whom we might have entertained?
My son never met a stranger.

"First Post of the Week"

Names are important. They not only are for identification, they are also for characterization. I will admit that, at least in the United States, we name our children names that we like and not so much as to build or develop their characters.


We like catchy, memorable names. And the more unique, the better. And the more famous and rich we are, the “uniquer” we get to be. Names like Apple, Moon, and Fantasia are good ones. We, who are the middle-class, are left with Celery, Asteroid, and Reality. Somehow, those are not as impressive. Or just add a “wa” or “na” at the end and presto, you have a new name. Sometimes, we name our children after relatives, but mostly we name because we like it.

But people used to name based upon the circumstance of the day or a character trait during the time of birth of the child. Just take a look at the Bible. Many people were named with a name of significance. Like Moses, meaning “drawn out” since Pharaoh’s daughter drew him out of the water. And Jesus, whose name means “savior”. Or they changed their name to bring emphasis to a change in their life. Saul changed his name to Paul, which means “small” or “insignificant” to highlight that he was not about who he was anymore, but he was all about who he now is with Christ in his life.

Businesses and organizations also need to think hard in choosing a name that best reflects who they are and what they want to be know for. Good choices are imperative for good business. Which brings me to my story.

We took a “short” four-day trip to eastern Washington to visit T.’s parents. As I have mentioned in an earlier blog, there is a section in their town that I have dubbed “church alley”. There is a four-square block section that is home to eight churches. Seriously, you drive past one on the corner and behold, you pass another church on the next corner separated by each other’s lawn. They all seem to be painted white as well. And also, there are other churches that have “sprung” outside of the “alley”. And not to mention the churches in the adjacent town on the other side of the river. Just cross the bridge and you are in a new town and in another state, but for all intents and purposes, it is still the same one big community.

I began to notice, as with any city, that many of the churches had the word “First” in their name. They were, in no particular order:
First Christian Church,
First Presbyterian Church,
The First Church of God,
First Assembly of God, and
First Baptist Church.

Adding the ones in the town across the river, we have:
First Assembly of God,
First Baptist Church,
First Church of Christian Science,
First Church of the Nazarene, and
First United Methodist Church.

Now that is a lot of firsts! I envision the early settlers coming to this spread of country and deciding a church of their denomination was needed, and so they built a building.
“ We need a name,” they surmised.
“ First one in the area, so let’s call it First Baptist.”
“Great idea.”

(Enter into the valley, Presbyterians who build a building.)
“We need a name,” they surmised.
“First one in the area, so let’s call it First Presbyterian.”
“Great idea.”

(And so on, and so on.)

Sometimes, in larger cities, you will see The Second Baptist Church.
“We didn’t quite make it, but we were close. We’ll call ourselves Second Baptist.”
“Great idea.”

I know that I am making light of this, but I mean no disrespect. Really. I just find it odd that we church goers seem to be the only ones who name ourselves in this fashion. I haven’t seen “The First Grocery Store”, or “First Chevron Gas”. It seems to been uniquely ours. I don’t believe the churches are named from a prideful or arrogant heart. I think it more of a significant historical time-line moment. I still think it strange.

But speaking of firsts in this “spiritual” conversation, there is one “first” that reigns.

“And He is the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creation, for by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on the earth, both visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities - all things have been created by Him and for Him.” Col. 1:15-16

“He is also the head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the first born from the dead; so that He Himself might come to have first place in everything.” Col. 1:18

The “firstness” of Jesus means that He alone is the heir of all things and is uniquely supreme. And His most desirous thing is to be “first” in your life.

Third Encounter

Traveling with our three year old is easier now than when our son was younger. But there are a few conditions and obstacles that have to be hurdled. It is easier because we are packing lighter these days. Gone are the infant carriers, the playpens, the bottles, the specialty foods, and the multitude of clothes and other accessories that go along with a baby or young toddler.


Now he can sleep in his cot or in the extra queen bed, depending upon the amenities of the motel. We still bring some toys, but we can pack them in a small bag. And his clothing also fits in a smaller section of the suitcase. There is, however a trade-off as we bring a little DVD player if it is a long trip. And we will make longer stops so he can burn off some energy. And I have learned that ground floor rooms are preferred. Then we don’t have to worry when he runs around in the room. Getting a corner room is also helpful, so we just have to be aware of one side for the noise level.

The third encounter of our vacation was in one way small, but it made my thought juices go deep. It happened while we were at the motel in Brookings. We were at the second to last room of the all ground floor motel. As we were settling in, our “neighbors” park their big white car. It is one of those cars driven by old people or a brother-in-law. And sure enough, out of the driver’s side came a gentleman in his eighties. The back seat of the car is well packed with hanging clothes and boxes.

The man first opened his motel room and proceeded to open the passenger door where his wife was sitting. It was quickly apparent that she was in need of a lot of assistance. He brought her walker around and slowly, because he is being ever so careful and because of his own age, helped her to stand, or stoop. They slowly make their way into the room, which took about seven minutes. Once seated, the husband begins the first of many trips out to the car to bring in the needed supplies for their stay.

Lately, I have been trying to be aware of opportunities to engage people that cross my path. I am extremely introverted and I am forcing myself to become intentional in these situations. I ask the man if he would like some help bring in the rest of his items. He politely declines my offer but he does stop for a second to take a break. I make my move to spur on conversation.

I told him where we were from and that we were here for a couple days to visit the Redwoods. He said that they were from Sacramento and dove up because they were gong to attend a memorial service in a couple of days. He told me that this wife hasn’t felt good for a few years and she doesn’t move too well. And he was taking care of her the best that he could. “It’s hard, sometimes, but what are you going to do?”, he said.

Later, in the early evening, I heard him trying to start his car and it just wouldn’t turn over. A relative of his came over and they decided to call a mechanic in the morning. I told them that if they needed some food, I would go get it for them. He said thanks but they would be fine.

The next day the couple went with their relatives and a cousin stayed to wait for the tow truck. Realizing that the man forgot to leave his credit card, I volunteered to wait with the car as he went and got the card. So the elderly cousin left the keys with me and just as the tow truck came both the cousin and the car owner showed up. And off we went to the Redwoods.

Here is what this encounter let me know. I appreciate love that is costly. Even though this may not be how that man envisioned his days, he is a testimony of what you do for the sake of love. You endure. You do what you need to do. And you don’t complain about it. You take care of those who are in need.

I also recognize that if I want to purposefully show and share God’s love, I will have to be the one to take the initiative. I will have to “un-introvert” myself to place myself into the journey of others. This is a world that, in some ways, has lost the human contact aspect. With self-checkout at grocery stores, ATM’s, and Redboxes, the interaction of human to human diminishes. And when the Internet is thrown in, with online shopping, online banking, and online movies, human contact can be eliminated all together. I can even get a college degree in my pajamas at my own home.

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy all of those conveniences. Which means, I will have to work extra hard starting, developing, and keeping new encounters and relationships. There are some things can’t be done self-service or online. Like mercy, kindness, and encouragement. And since, children of God, those are supposed to be our specialties, let’s get out there and “encounter”.

For Everything There is a . . .

The second significant encounter of our vacation was one that I missed because I didn’t go far enough. My wife, fortunately, did not miss the encounter.

We were in Bandon down at Old Town going through the shops on July 7th.

My little one did pretty well, but it is getting more difficult to go into art galleries, as the setting is usually quieter than three-year-old lungs. So after some sight seeing and visits to the local retail establishments, we were ready to go. We got I. buckled into his car seat and then I noticed on the side of a building a little sign that said “Art Show”.  I told T. that I would just run in and see what was in there.

Walking through the door and into a large open area, I saw that the paintings and photography were lining the walls. It doesn’t take me too long in galleries to recognize what I am being drawn to and what does not capture my interest. And nothing in here has necessarily caught my attention. There was also no one else in the room with the exception of two people sitting behind a table on the opposite side of the place. And there was a big open space where there was no art at all. It was as if the artist had already taken down their display. Unimpressed, I only viewed one area and left.

I went to the car and told T. to go look if she wanted to, but there wasn’t much there. She decided to go in and I stayed in the car with the boy. I am not sure how long she was in the building, but it was longer than I had expected. As I glanced in the side mirror, I saw T. coming toward the car with a small paper bag in her hand. I thought that she must have found something to buy.

So here is what we know:
The empty spot on the wall was for a local artist to display his work, but he couldn’t make the show. On June 14, his baby girl was born. They named her Sequoia Iris Reed Rodrigues. Three days later, little Sequoia fell sick. After taking her to the hospital, that little girl was diagnosed with ‘septicemia, an infection in the blood that the doctor said randomly occurs in one in a thousand babies for no known reason.’ And the next day on June 18, four-day-old Sequoia passed away in her mother’s arms.

The people sitting behind the table at the art show were friends of the parents and had held a memorial there for Sequoia the night before. The bag that T. had in her hand was leftover from the service. It contained seeds from a sequoia tree and an iris bulb to be planted in her memory. The man at the table told T. that he felt like he ‘had to do something’. T. could tell that the events had left an emotionally moving impact upon the man. T. wrote a little note of sorrow and encouragement in the journal for the family and then left to go to the car.

This is what I missed because I didn’t go far enough. The story, however, has not left my mind and heart since hearing it. It is tragic enough to lose a loved one, but for that family to go from sheer joy at the birth of their first born to horrific sorrow at her death in four short days, that is, for me, inconceivable. And yet, stuff happens. Bad stuff. And somehow, we are to move on and continue our life journey, wounded and limping with but a short memory of happiness and a longer one of sadness, and all the while knowing that God is there and He cares. And somehow, somewhere, and at sometime, He will bring about good in all of this.

Perhaps little Sequoia’s family have already recognized this based upon these two quotes from her memorial.

“Sometimes love is for a moment …

Sometimes love is for a lifetime …

Sometimes a moment is a lifetime.”

In spite of the pain:

“We would rather have one breath of her hair,

One kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand,

Than an eternity without it.”

I hope than you will learn two things from this encounter I have shared with you. The first is that life here on this earth is ever so fragile and it may end suddenly, so it should be lived doing that which is right and good. And the second is that the only place where you will find lasting peace from your restlessness, complete forgiveness from the things you’ve done wrong, and ultimate comfort for your sorrows, is in, and only in, a relationship with God through trust and acceptance of Jesus as your Savior. Trust that He paid your debt by dying on the cross and through believing in Him you can live the life God has desired for you to live. Even if it is only four days.

We have the bag with the sequoia seeds and the iris bulb. Time to plant a memory. It is the season.  Turn, turn, turn.

P.S. “here is the memorial website”:
http://sequoia.iris.muchloved.com/