Sticky Hands

             Between work, college, and practicum obligations things are a bit of a whirlwind at the Wilson home. We are very dedicated fasters only our act of food restraint is fueled by our inattentiveness to our busy schedule over religious zeal.  Often in the frantic scurry to rush out the door we miss the opportunity to pack a lunch. This results in grabbing food on the go with meals including crackers, chips, and occasionally fruit. On an especially busy Thursday all I found manage to grab as I propelled out the door was an orange.

                Due to an extra bus route, I was ravenous at the return to the bus office. I grabbed my orange and started toward my bus. Using my bare-hands I skinned the orange and started devouring it's fruit like squirrels indulge on acorns before winter. The juices ran out of the orange onto my hands and mouth. Afterwards my hands felt uncomfortably sticky and smelled like citrus. Naturally, my gut instinct nudged me to walk up the hill to the office to wash my hands but than it hit me, our desire to be people of integrity should look like my sticky hands. I think there's a reason Galatians describes godly characteristics as "fruits of the spirit'; fruit though nutritious and sweet are a messy food.

           You're can't expect to eat fruit without staining your mouth or hands, likewise, when you're filled with love your actions and words are stained sweeter. The reason so many avoid living by these fruits is the stickiness it leaves behind. Our natural default says sticky is bad we need to wash off, many attempt the same with God. When we humbly try to live by these fruits, our hands are stained; it doesn't satisfy us anymore to love those we love, our love grows wider, and even compels to love our enemies. Our default says it's unnatural to help, but love springs us into action. With holy sticky hands you feel completely empty sitting idol.

          The real issue most face in living by the fruits of the spirit is the fears of change. What would my life look like if I really gave my thoughts, words, deeds to Jesus? What change would that make in my life? How would that change the way I treat my friends? my family? my neighbors? How would that change the way I treat those who are different?  How would God use a mess like me to show his love to people who desperately need him?

           In the wise words of a favorite psychology professor, "God turns a mess into a message and a test into a testimony."  I think generally people are more open than they are closed. Those who aren't spiritual still want prayers in times of trouble and unrest. People facing tragedy still ask, "Why God?" Our job isn't to be perfect polished people, our job is to live humbly loving God and all people. If you're interested in living by the fruits of the spirit, take a minute this week to say one encouraging thing to someone who might need a warm voice or listening ear.

Mystifying Reality

Life is cold... That's an elementary lesson everyone eventually learns. Experiencing pain is a universal truth and part of being a living breathing human being. 

As five year old boy facinated with nature I was amazed to find wild black berries growing in our acre of backyard woods. Berry after berry my purple stained smile grew larger that is until one fateful berry changed my experience. A ripe large berry caught my eye, but as I had clutched the berry with my stocky little hands, an unexpected buzz and a sharp sting to my palm left me startled, throbbing, and panicked. My joy popped like a baloon leaving shock and pain in its way.

Whether its something as small as a bee sting or something as heavy as betrayal pain happens to all of us. How many times have you failed? Been hurt? Gave up? Gave in? Our response to hurtful situations follows a pattern psychologists like to call "Fight or Flight" meaning our instinct tells us to run for the hills or find a way to bring Godzilla down. 

Running is the perferred choice. The best way to save your own skin is getting it out of harm way. So often we choose running in our lives, relationships, jobs, families, education, and community. Instead of embracing our God ordained empowerement to tackle heavy issues we run from the problems and choose to live a cold life in a cold world. But how do you fight pain? How do you hold on? Isn't this too big for us? The answer can be summerized by one of the first words we learn "No!" 

The first step is saying no. Empowerement is embracing the potential and power that God all ready designed in you to handle challenging situtions; to get tough when things get tough. We're all designed with the ability to sink or swim, while others are more naturally inclind to water others struggle to doggy paddle; whatever your situation it begins by telling the water it cannot keep you under or make you drowned. Pain does happen to all of us, sometimes its an ocean and others might be closer bathtub but to avoid drownding in both one must keep their head above the water. Somtimes handling pain is as simple as taking control becoming the captain, piolet, explorer, and guide of your life. 

Life might get cold, but that's why they invented winter skis. 

Lessons from the Paddle; Developing Resiliance

Canoeing Adventure at Devils Fork State Park, SC

I've been canoeing since I was 11 years old. Through strenuous adventures, wrong turns, tipped canoes, and bad weather I soon acquired the skills to quickly glide our vessel across the water. I didn't always profess to be knowledgeable about canoeing. Though I strive to be Captain Nemo, the persistent clanking, clashing, and bumping of our canoe left me looking similar to Captain Crunch. The most important lesson I learned from Canoeing though is simply this; Resilience. In other words,  utilize your obstacles as opportunities and converting your challenges into fuel to succeed. Two important lessons help in understanding resilience.

Lesson 1- Learning Comes from Anywhere: 
My brothers and I affectionately named this canoe "the iron salmon" as it had both durability and consistent buoyancy. My first big challenge in a great adventure puzzled me "How do we get the boat to the water?" The boy scouts was an organization I would never be interested in pursuing. Though I admired their knowledge of wilderness and survival, the Hayward troop had the type of superiority and judgment I as an awkward home-schooler actively tried to avoid. Even their body language while relieving themselves made you feel like they expected the toilets to be made of gold or at least thank them after wards.  My rebellious heart wanted to feed them dog poop as a secret ingredient in brownies but Sunday school lessons diverted my devious spirit. Though I refused the capsule, I desired the value inside. So I did as anyone in my generation with access to a computer did... I googled boy scout knots. The foundational knowledge I gained through my search not only helped me one up the scouts but prepared me ahead of time in what steps to take in securing a canoe onto our '94 GMC Yukon we called "The God Mobile". I have tipped several canoes on my learning curve but I can tell you with confidence my hi-jacked boy scout knots held the Iron Salmon tightly to the roof of the God Mobile.

Lake Jocassee, Devil's Fork State Park, SC

Lesson 2- Taking Control:
The next challenge was learning to take control of the boat. You would think at first glance the front of the canoe is the spot to be. Early off I would argue with my older brother on who got the front, however, he was more cunning than I picked up. To my surprise canoes are all front paddle drive, meaning if you want the better views you've gotta work about ten times harder. I had officially established my place as canoe engine dragging all of my brothers across most Hayward's surrounding lakes. This pattern continued until one fateful day in July. My friend Trevor and brother Luke took a paddle on a nearby flowage. Like always I sat in the front and put my muscles to work getting the boat moving. Trevor was a large teen and therefore we thought he should sit in the back to counter weight Luke and I, but out of our ignorance we made a critical mistake; Trevor had no steering experience. Our journey began as most Wisconsin summer days do; sunny, hot, with a slight breeze. After traveling half way across the 5 mile lake we noticed the sky turning dark and the wind growing stronger. Though the three of us knew turning around was the wisest decision to make, our adolescent insecurities about manliness kept each of us from being the first to speak up; our thought patterns must have looked something like this, "As long as I'm not the one to call it quits, I can go along with the others without loosing my manly dignity." However, our insecurities was married with prideful stupidity; none of us spoke up and the Iron Salmon went on. By the time we got another mile in the sky took a nose dive from dark gray to blackish, the type of cloud you might image Voldemort lives in. Now raining cats and dogs, the wind howled hurdling our canoe straight toward the logs and rocks on near the shore. Trevor and Luke were petrified by the forces of nature's dirty work; I had enough. I grabbed my paddle turned around in my seat to face Luke and Trevor and began steering the boat back to shore. I had Luke and Trevor row backwards effectively reversing the order we started in. I moved from engine to driver in two seconds flat. After a long strenuous afternoon of battling the northern elements we finally reached shore drenched and exhausted. I entered the boat a passive rider, grunt man, worker and left the vessel a champion of the elements and master of my crew and ship. Someone once said, "The only way to gain grit is to go through it" if this statement is true I had just added grits to breakfast, lunch, and dinner my nature and character had changed the trajectory of my life.

Different Shells; Embracing ethnic Christianity

A friend of mine sells chicken eggs to about half the bus drivers. Though I am particularly fond of the freshness of his farm, the chicken eggs are only half the treat. Accompanying my dozen usually comes a handful of guinea eggs or duck eggs. The texture and taste resembles an egg of a chicken but yet has it's own consistency and flavor. However the fact remains as different as the shell is it's the same yoke inside.

Hayward Wisconsin is about as Euro dominant as a rural community gets. If you weren't born with Swedish or Norwegian ancestry the kind folks of Hayward would make sure you knew you didn't fit the mold. This is observed by the chronic mistrust and hostility toward the nearby Ojibwe reservation. I once attended a Bible study at my local church witnessing a dear friend and pastor ethically debate for following minorities in super stores. He argued it's only a business strategy and nothing personal. This was shockingly absurd and offensive but to add insult to injury the entire group of white men around the table seemed to agree and condone what the pastor just said. Now that I've grown to understand the ethnic heart of God, I'm absolutely ashamed that I didn't rebuke him.

The south isn't immune to racism either though. Yes where I currently live is a melting pot of ethnicity but the stew is being stirred by a rather large European chef. The code looks something like this "we will tolerate you so long as you conform" this in my opinion has been the overarching attitude of America for several decades and only now is being challenged. The progressive southern Christians like to put on cultural shades, squint their eyes, and pretend we're all the same. Though I agree that we are all more alike then different,the problem of this approach is the same conflict Paul deals with in working with the Jews and Gentiles. Because Jesus was Jewish, the Hebrews pushed for the cultural assimilation of all the gentiles treating them as lesser Christians if they didn't act Jewish enough.

 Jesus desired to complete culture not abolish it. Ethnicity should be celebrated and respected not replaced with a white man's view of Christianity.  Just like each egg has it's own taste and texture, we are all made uniquely in God's image. Many good meaning Christians try to present ethnicity like McDonald's; there's lots of options but only a few choices are decent. But God's view of ethnicity goes much further it's like a five star buffet of cultural thoughts,insight, heritage,and traditions. It's humbling  but always nessesary to remember God made us in his image not the other way around. I'm pretty sure his images stretches further than Sweeds from Wisconsin or a Chicken's rear end. Just a thought.

Trade In

As a school bus driver I manage over 65 high energy youth/children on a daily basis. The job requires a almost contradicting amount of both sternness and flexibility when working with adolescents. At the end of the day, the heightened amount of focus needed to navigate a 78 passenger vehicle through the curving mountain roads and rush hour traffic results in stress head aches and a clanking back. The constant frustration of sounding like a cawing crow to the teenage ear leaves many drivers frustrated and in a chronically irritable mood. If all that was not enough, in many cases most school districts only halfheartedly support their drivers; more often than not the driver pays for the repercussion of the child's poor choices.

As drivers we really have two choices in dealing with this heart-ache; we can stink or we can sweeten. The same principle is true in life. Many occupations leave the U.S. workforce mentally and physically extorted after clocking out. The aim of every Monday is to get to Friday; the aim of every weekend is to go on vacation, and as your vacation comes to a close, the goal of the trip is to get home and start again. The hamster wheel of constant labor leaves employees zapped and empty like a heavily used pair of AA batteries. So why do so many choose to stink when the alternative is so much sweeter?

When asked honestly, just as everyone has things they dislike, all people they have things they love. As a bus driver I can choose to hate the traffic or love the students. What would life look like if we stopped trying to push our way forward but rather enjoy the moment we're in choosing positive lenses or negative ones? The comical part is so many get fixated on negative situations that they undermine any solution. I admit I'm just as guilty as anyone else at this. It takes initial less effort to shout at a student to be quiet but the results are fleeting and temporary. Teens are just like a garden, what you plant is what you get. By yelling you are psychologically implanting the very patterns of disrespect you're trying to extinguish. A better approach would be to treat the teens with the amount of respect you want them to show you. Also remember they're still developing so they won't get it right away but t like a garden with consistent watering and patience they will eventually produce the lasti I results desired.