Ever been to prison?

I have...finally!

I'd been putting it off some quite some time, but it finally made its way into my schedule. There have been a number of opportunities to go in the past few years, but I just hadn't made it a priority.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a prison. But it was a maximum-security juvenile correctional facility. That makes me a least a little tough, doesn't it?

A few Sunday's ago, I accepted the offer, and joined a couple of Brothers in leading a worship service there. I've had several invitations in the past to be involved with prison ministry, but there have always been weighty-enough excuses to decline.

But that Sunday afternoon, there was no excuse, no reason to put it off any longer. And what I found there (thanks in part to my basketball career) wasn't so shocking: a bunch of almost-adult boys doing all they can to avoid appearing vulnerable.

They showed it in many different ways. Some were rowdy. Some were quiet and withdrawn. Only a couple appeared to be attentive or interested.

Not so unlike....well...anywhere else.

The great irony of vulnerability is that those who show it (at least in the emotional and spiritual senses) are the stronger ones. I'm pretty sure I'm not one of them.

In our current culture which gives plenty of "people are basically good" lip service (which is a lie!), yet is so bent on self service that everyone is suspect of taking advantage of me, revealing my weaknesses is a daunting prospect. Willingness to show my flaws without fear of rejection, ridicule, or exploitation is beyond any resolve or determination I can muster. Candidly, cognizance of my flaws is something I usually avoid.

And yet, growing stronger requires that I start by recognizing my weaknesses. In fact, I'm convinced that recognition of those weaknesses IS strength. As the years trickle by, it's becoming clearer to me that the most significant component of maturation is that of becoming well-acquainted with ones flaws.

My heart ached for those boys, many of them staring blankly, content simply to be temporarily relieved of their confinement. There was so much more we were there to offer them than a few breaths of less stale air. But for their unwillingness to let their guard down, let alone expose any soft spots, I wonder how many caught a glimpse of the great treasure being laid before them.

I highly recommend going to prison. It certainly played a part in reforming me--it could even reform the likes of you!

On the surface...

"On the surface not a ripple,
Undercurrent wages war."

So writes one of my favorite singer/songwriters.

How many would describe me as "even-keeled," "always calm," "never gets upset?" Most probably would. Several have.

Yet few catch glimpses of the undercurrent roiling inside. True, I don't lose my cool often.
At least, not outwardly. But I can get angry. I can get really angry. And I can get sullen, and impatient...and...well, I won't go on (this time).

"Quiet in the sanctuary,
Sin is crouching at my door."

I need to remember. Oh, how I need so much to remember.

I need to remember how I'm not bound to live angry, or sullen, or impatient, or...

I need to remember that "it's" not about how I lived (sorry POG ladies, I disagree).

I need to remember that this life is only "the dash in between" the dates on my tombstone, and that the second date marks the beginning of reality.

"Curse-reversing Day of Jesus,
When you finally seize my soul.
Freedom from myself will be
The sweetest rest I’ve ever known."

The Jews Have It Right!

Ugh! I'm exhasuted today! I struggled to get out of bed.

And had an even harder time getting my attitude on the right track. (I know, I know, you're struggling to relate...just bear with me...)

If I don't get a good night's sleep, my attitude and actions in the morning usually reflect it. In fact, barring Supernatural interventon, I'm practically guaranteed to have a rocky start to my day...well, let's not stop there..a rocky WHOLE day. (Now I've completely lost you, haven't I?)

(Wow! Am I *really* that sarcastic? Oh dear, now maybe I have really lost you...come back!)

Where were we? Ummm...oh yes: tired, exhausted, having a bad [attitude] day.

Suggestions anyone? Starbucks? Red Bull?

How about starting my Friday on, say, Thursday night instead?

Perhaps considering a good night's sleep as the beginning of a productive, respectable day (instead of its end) would aid against the struggles.

Now, I don't fully credit the Jewish people with the idea that a day begins the night before. I mean, they are the Chosen People, not necessarily the Deserving People (don't get carried away, we Gentiles aren't either)--they didn't come up with the idea on their own. But they do adhere to it.

And why not?

There are certainly some great spiritual truths bound up in it, such as Darkness preceding the Light. Yet even non-theologians can appreciate the very practical aspect of building a good night's rest into one's day.

My dear bride and I, for a time, ensured that our Sunday mornings were not harried, hectic, altogether-unspiritual events by carefully considering our Saturday evening plans. Unfortunately, we've lost a bit of that resolve (I don't dare call it a habit--it was never "automatic"). Nonetheless, on those many exhausting morning-after occasions, I can't overlook the impact that last night has on today.

Profound? It's too obvious to warrant that word. And yet the sacrifices required to turn that idea into a lifestyle are hardly trivial. You figure that part out yourself...

Now, if you'll excuse me, tomorrow is a few short hours away, and I have to get ready for bed!

To the top of the mountain...and back down again.

Sunday was a great day!

After a spiritually-enriching time of worship together with 150 or so dear Brothers and Sisters, we embarked on a 1.5-hour drive to nearby Perfect North Slopes to enjoy a beautiful day in The Neighborhood by snow tubing. What a treat! The frigid previous week ensured an icy sheen on the tube runs (super*FAST*), while the sunny weather of the day (in the 40s) kept our toes and noses from complaining. It couldn't have been more "Perfect." Well, at least until my cell. phone's familiar buzz interrupted...

...my brother-in-law was calling to find out when we were going to arrive...at their house...for a birthday party...1.5 hours (or more) away. I quickly quipped that we were still on the slopes, and that our tickets permitted about 30 more minutes of tubing time.

"How long will it take you to get here after that?"
"Well, it took us about 1.5 hours, so probably about that long," was my reply, knowing that 1.5 hours was very optimistic (note foreshadowing...).

"Well, I hope we're still awake when you get here."
"Yeah, me too." [laugh]

Click.

Ah well, the great outdoors is still calling, and we need to get our money's worth. Back to tubing. We're determined to get the largest group of tubes to go down the hill together. What a rush!

But there's a little nag in the back of my mind. Brother-in-law was cordial, but didn't sound thrilled about the prospect of us showing up for dinner, presents, and cake at 7:30 p.m. (or later).

Finish our tubing, we must! Back to the slopes!

Sunday was a terrible day.

We finally piled in the van and started driving after 7:00 p.m. (remember earlier time estimate...we're approximately -1 hours ahead of schedule). What does any reasonable person do when the egregiously-underestimated schedule of the day lags so far behind?

Why, he speeds of course!

Huh? He does what?

Yep, even though he has been working to eliminate speeding from his driving diet for years (barring exceptional cases, of course...like this one, right?), he opens up the throttle on the interstate and flies right by all of the other caravaning vehicles carrying many of those dear Brothers and Sisters mentioned above, leaving his reputation as a safe and conscientious driver in the dust...

It's what you would do too, right?

You'd drive 5, 10, 20 MPHs over the speed limit to "soften the blow" of arriving so long after you said you would.

What?!?!? That doesn't even make sense! How's is that going to make anything right?

And then, in your transfixed state, you might even ignore the flashing lights and descending gate at a railroad crossing, tempting fate and endangering the lives of your loving, trusting family.

You'd really do that?!? That's insane!

Why yes, yes it is.


Shortly thereafter, we arrived at brother-in-law's house. As we pull in the driveway, dear 10-year-old son was giddy as he announced, "Now we have a story to tell!"

I, on the other hand, couldn't have been more ashamed...

...more wreckless...

...more foolish...

...more irresponsible...

...more convicted...


I was as profusely apologetic as sincerity would allow, while we spent a polite (and late) evening celebrating with my brother- and sister-in-law, who were so very gracious and hospitable. In fact, dear brother-in-law even managed to keep his cool when our 11-week-old puppy chewed up one of their house plants.

When can this evening end?!?

Monday was burdensome.

I could barely focus on my work yesterday, because I kept picturing the railroad crossing scene in my mind's eye, and hearing my 5-year-old condemning me in the same terrified voice that she used when we were involved in an accident last July, "Daddy you shouldn't have done that! The train could hit us!"

And then my imagination decided to do some exploring into the realm of "what if there wasn't a safe distance of 10-feet between your van and the careening train."

Even today, I'm haunted by all that I destroyed in a matter of about 3 or 4 hours:
- the trust of my wife and children
- the respect of my Brothers and Sisters (did I fail to mention that I and my lovely bride were leading worship on Sunday morning?)
- any swatch of a reputation of being a safe, conscientious driver
- I can't help but wonder what else...

And all for the sake of...well, honestly, I can't distill a coherent purpose out of any of that.

It was just sheer...ah, but words fail to finish that too.

I'm fallen.

I have great reason to be thankful for my forgiving family. And my forgiving God.

A [Slightly] More Serious Note

Soccer, I can do. Volleyball, I'm there. Basketball...not so much.

But after living in IN for 1.5 years, I had a culture-shock breakthrough Tuesday evening.

That's right, I played basketball. I even played it kinda well--I was the high-scorer of the final game that evening.

Granted, everyone (including the opposing team of high school boys) was pretty tired by that point, and I wasn't being guarded very closely. But still, the ball went into the basket after leaving my hands. Nothing short of miraculous!

I'm convinced God was intervening!

More importantly, I hope God was intervening in the hearts and minds of those high school boys, who have two things in common:
1. They love to play basketball (and there's 1 skater too).
2. They live in a pretty rough area in downtown Indianapolis.

Many of them live with one, or neither, parent (and maybe a live-in girlfriend/boyfriend, or a parade of such). Many of the homes in which they live are pretty close to destitution. Many of them are in uncomfortable proximity to drug, alcohol, and sexual abuse on a regular basis.

But they keep coming.

Even though they often lack enthusiasm about the devotion/Bible lesson that one of us old guys shares with them each week, they keep coming. Probably mostly for the basketball, but hopefully for something deeper. Something they themselves don't understand. Something they need if they're going to survive their circumstances.

Something we old guys need to survive our circumstances.

So I keep going too, even if I don't like basketball.

What about you? What don't you like?