Snow Machine

I often portray our Alaskan life as idyllic. It really is. We love it here. But life happens here too. People, even Alaskans are people. Once in a while we're reminded of just this reality.

Two nights ago we were awakened at 3:30am to the not-so-idyllic sounds of a snow machine (not a "snow mobile," you southerners) being started up (after many failed and futile attempts.) This lasted for 20 minutes or so. We were not amused. I was tempted to go downstairs and outside to "address" my lack of amusement with said perpetrator. I did not have a speech polished, but my internal threat vocabulary was dominated with the words "disembowel" and "fillet."

The following morning I saw the fellas outside attempting to free the evil snow machine from a nearby ditch. I went outside (mind, with no weapons on my person) to make inquiry. I asked the young perpetrator what had happened. He told me he did not remember. The other guys offered me no eye contact. So I adapted my method to offering statements to which my young perp could respond. I wanted to aid his memory.

He got drunk (nightly event, so not difficult to ascertain.) He had a fight with his girlfriend (again, not difficult to ascertain.) His anger resulted in his misguided idea that firing up the snow machine at 3:30am and going for a death ride was his best option. This then resulted in his promptly depositing said snow machine in a nearby ditch (another advertisement for "Don't drink and drive.")

I suggested he had perhaps not considered the impact his choices and actions had on the entire neighborhood. I suggested that being drunk, dumb and narcissistic was/is not necessarily a strong life's plan. I explained how a man is different from a boy old enough to shave. And I encouraged him to do a "manly" thing; go to each of our neighbors and apologize. Because real men accept responsibility and own up to their less than savory actions.

But in this exchange something happened in me. My anger and desire to wreck emotional damage was replaced with compassion; God-inspired compassion. I began to see this kid, this boy as lost. A lost lamb.
And in this I recognized yet another event God is using to reform my heart. My heart needs continual reformation. And maybe my desire to be priest and pastor on our street will require my being a father figure to some.

Later in the day I saw my young neighbor begrudgingly making his way to a couple of front doors. He has not yet made his way to all of our neighbors (I told him I would be following up) but he was making the attempt.

No one got filleted or disemboweled. Deb and I enjoyed our gospel community gathering last night, and then slept well. And I'm not quite so motivated to be the neighborhood strong arm.

Roller Coaster

Life is more than simple sustained breathing. Life is people, events and circumstances that change constantly, even for those who doggedly avoid change. Some may say "successful living" is the art and science of being consistent in the face of inconsistencies, and certain in the midst of uncertainties. I would say that consistency and certainty are dependent upon what (Who) that consistency and certainty is founded.

The life of this church-planter, or any church-planter for that matter is one of changes, some expected, some not. For anyone in this profession, or anyone related to someone in this profession, life can feel like a roller coaster. More likely it is living as a kite in God's hurricane. Just in the past month I have experienced both the incredible highs and gut-wrenching lows that are part and parcel to starting a church; all of it good, some of it challenging. Blessed my God loves me enough to continue reforming my heart.

My wife caught a cold. She gave it to me. My health caused me to regretfully cancel a couple of Sunday night gospel community gatherings and lose some "momentum." We both recovered. Then I caught the same (or a different) cold, and gave it to Deb. The gift that keeps on giving this has become. Blessed, I guess.

We've learned recently some people we thought (okay, hoped) would be a part of our initial core community will not be. We also learned recently our dear friends who have walked with us in these initial church-planting days will be regrettably relocating out of town. To borrow a British term, I was and am "gutted," but riding on the roller coaster requires staying in one's seat, and rolling with the punches. Blessed to know Who keeps me upright in the seat.

And...there are high's too. We just enjoyed a long weekend with our daughter and son-in-law. We crammed as much fun as possible into four days together. We love them and loved our time with them. For us it was the first time guests have come to Juneau to see us, not simply passing through on a cruise ship port of call. Deb and I got to be parents in person. Juneau showed herself well. So blessed we are!

I've been surprised (if not astounded) by interest expressed by two different fellas in what we're doing here in Juneau. Both overtures came to me from out of the blue...or directly from the hand and heart of God. And our Tuesday morning "Man School" continues on with guys who continue to be interested and faithful.

This very morning the prayer gathering at the Capitol Building didn't happen. It was rescheduled, to yesterday, and I was out of the loop. Instead, God had me make acquaintance with two nice ladies (who were also out of the loop.) We shared our hearts for Jesus and for Alaska. We stood and prayed in the Capitol lobby. I left encouraged. And unexpectedly blessed.

All of it, highs and lows, are good things; blessings. Blessed to be on the roller coaster. Blessed to know and trust Who keeps me in the seat on the roller coaster, especially when I cannot see the highs and lows yet around the next church-planting corner.

Looking Forward through the Rear View Mirror

Admittedly I've used this same title for first-of-the-year sermons in years past. In doing so it has been my intention to acknowledge my own past faith failures and God's past faithfulness to form and inform a prognosis for the next new year.

For me, there remain two yearly start-up times. September (the school calendar) seems to hit me as the time to pick up the pace and hit everything hard. In my case, September is the "don't think; just do" season. January, on the other hand comes with the kind of quiet reflection that mid-winter seems to bring many of us. Somehow, it's like looking forward through the rear view mirror. Faith borne from gratitude.

Without question, 2012 was a year of transition and high adventure for our family, perhaps unlike anything we have experienced to date. We witnessed the weddings of both our son and daughter. Never would we have anticipated our children's nuptials taking place within the same year, let alone within a calendar month. Admittedly, witnessing a son or daughter, (in our case son and daughter) being wed was for me akin to an out of body experience, like "is this really happening?" I was reminded this past year just how fast time flies. And all of the rumors of weddings being expensive are true.

Our two family weddings allowed us to reconnect with long-time friends and family (also long-time I suppose) in two states. I was reminded again of the ties that bind.

This past year Deb and I also left what we'd known as familiar for the unfamiliar. We relocated from Everett WA to Juneau AK, without jobs, without guarantees, and without universal approval. After 19 years in the same Puget Sound locale we left and went because we both felt we were "supposed to" leave and go. How gracious has our God been to allow us never to waver in our sense of calling or in our joy of calling this new place home.

It would be easy to say we "accomplished" some things; but the truth is, everything gained has been graciously given to us. Housing, and growing friendships in our own neighborhood;  a perfect job for Deb at the University; a new gig to fill my daytime hours subbing in the school district; an ever-widening circle of relationships; the beginnings of a core (perhaps several cores) of people who want to learn what it is to be a gospel-motivated community on mission together; and churches and individuals who believe in what we're doing enough to support and encourage our church-planting work here.

And this doesn't even speak to how we get to live in what is regarded as one of the most beautiful places on earth. (1.2 million annual cruise ship passengers can't be wrong!)

Eleven months in, Juneau is home. Juneau is mission field. We have been humbled by and astounded over God's faithful provision, which includes vision. How could we step into this fresh new year without commensurate humility and astonishment?

(And thanks, Joel Abbott for the photo!)