Posts Tagged ‘friends’
I was reading a friend’s blog yesterday and they were talking about friends who help in times of need. For some reason, this immediately made me think of Simon of Cyrene from the Bible. He doesn’t get a whole lot of press, but he’s a very interesting character if you stop and think about him. He is the guy who carries Jesus’ cross for him.
Now think about that. The Bible clearly says that we will all have “crosses” to bear in this life. Now, when Jesus was talking about each of us carrying our own cross, I know he was being metaphorical. He was talking about dying to our selfishness and inwardness and ego-centrism, and learning to live with a true revelation of the lives of others around us. Love, in other words (or word as the case may be).
Isn’t it interesting, though, that even Jesus didn’t carry his own cross? Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not taking anything away from Jesus—he alone died for our sins and rose again. And truly, he could have carried the cross the whole way. So if he could have, that means he chose not to. And that’s the sticking point. Why didn’t he?
Herein lies the valuable lesson (at least for me). While on earth Jesus showed us how to live perfectly as humans. Perfect dependence on God. But also, perfect dependence on others. He was never above receiving help or blessings from other people. And I think this example is so cool. In his final moments, in his greatest anguish, on the greatest stage the world has ever known—Jesus receives the help of a no-name Jewish man. . .who carries Jesus’ cross. Jesus’ cross! Think about that!
And it makes me think—I have had so many Simon of Cyrene’s in my life, and I am so very thankful for them. Faced with a cross I never knew I’d have to carry, and a hill that was certainly too big for my legs to conquer, so many Simons (and Simonesses!) have come alongside of me and lifted my burdens onto their shoulders. They have carried my burdens.
So often people look for God in the clouds, or in science, or complain about lack of proof. When really, maybe we just need to look at each other sometimes. Do you feel abandoned by God? Maybe he’s has just shown you love through the hug of a friend. Feel discouraged by God? Maybe that kind word was actually sent by him.
So anyway, that’s what I’m thinking about tonight. And also I ‘m thinking about all the chances I have to be a Simon in other people’s lives, and what a profound blessing that is. Simon of Cyrene entered into the greatest story every told and unknowingly helped God save the world. When we let ourselves become Simon’s in other people’s lives, we too are entering into great and wonderful stories. Because often the greatest stories begin in great pain, don’t they? And when we become Simon to that person, we play a part in seeing that story go from pain to victory.
And I’m not sure there are many greater blessings on earth than that.
So go find someone who needs a Simon today . . . and pick up that cross.
OK, so along with my many more advantageous dreams, I have a set of less impressive, but still very real, goals in life. One of them was accomplished tonight!
I am the kind of guy who really likes to help people out of jam. If I see an old lady on the side of the road with a flat tire, I stop and help. If someone is lost I’ll try to help him or her find their way. Sometimes however, my desire to help is limited by my knowledge and skill set. For instance, we were waiting in a huge traffic jam a couple months ago, and this car in front of us erupted in a plume of steam and smoke. As she pulled over, I said to Mandy – “I bet that’s her radiator. She’ll need water poured into it so she can keep going, and we’ve got water! (We were on our way home from our kids’ soccer game.) The problem is, I really have no idea what to do with the water, where to put it, or how it works. Fortunately though, a guy who drives a big truck (good sign that he’ll know something about cars, I thought) stopped too. Between his know-how, and my water, Ms Smoky Car was on her way in no time.
One of these types of “spirit is willing, know-how is weak” situations is the keys-locked-in-car dilemma. I have ALWAYS wanted to solve that one. And I have tried many times. This summer we went camping at Ricketts Glen (amazing) with good friends of ours (Nathan and Shannon). It was a great three day camping trip. And the very last thing we did was spend the last morning canoeing on the beautiful moutian lake amongst huge fields of white flowered lilly pads. Amazing.
As we were loading the boats on Nathan’s truck I hear Mandy exclaim, “the keys are in there!” That can’t be good. Nathan and I tried and tried, but couldn’t get in. And then we called the ranger, and he tried and tried with his instrument he has (slim jim), but couldn’t get in. Then I paid $80 and waited 30 minutes for this tow guy to come and try. He pops out of his truck, grabs this rubber wedge, a mallet, and a stick. In 30 seconds, it was over. Car open. That made me mad! If only I had that rubber wedge, it was so easy!
OK , so that’s way too long of an intro for this: Tonight, God gave Nathan and I a second chance, and we were resolved not to fail again. My friend Jessica locked her keys in the car tonight, and I sprang at the opportunity. Nathan just happened to be at church with me, so I said – “You ready to try again?” I rummaged through the Latshaw basement and came up with some instruments that I thought resembled the rubber wedge. And I got a hanger.
The wedge worked! But the hanger did not – not strong enough to press the unlock button. So then I tried a stick…it broke…in the car. That’s not helpful. So then Nathan had a brainstorm, as we were combing over a tree looking for a better branch. What about one of those thin sticks we use to show the plow where not to plow? We raced to find one, and yes! We got one! And sure enough, with the right instruments, and a little know-how, the car was unlocked! Victory!
That’s my exciting story for the night. It was very fulfilling to see that door open. Quite a sense of accomplishment. And now I’m considering carrying wood shims (the wedge) and a plow stake in my car for other opportunities to save the day!
Tonight one of my nieces (Cosi) slept over. My kids are always talking about sleepovers. If it were up to them I think they’d have have someone here every single night.
Anyway, as I was putting them to bed tonight, I was remembering my childhood. As a little boy, I was terrible at sleepovers.
My earliest experiences were with my childhood best friend, Randy, who lived across the street from me. I can remember laying on the floor of his room, long after everyone in the whole house had fallen asleep, and looking out the window at my house across the street. Why was it that EVERY TIME I ever slept at someone’s house, I fell asleep last!?!? WHY? It was like torture! I hated it!
Anyway, there was my house, so close, but so far away! Right there were my mom and dad, my bed, my cat, my stuffed animals (I had a lot of them), and that sense of comfort that is all too elusive while sleeping at someone else’s house.
There were actually a few times (ok, maybe more than a few) where I would sneak downstairs and call my parents and ask them to come get me!! Thankfully they always did!
The best/worst time happened when I was 12 years old though. I was at a sleepover party with a bunch of guys from my class. They decided to watch a horror movie. I wasn’t allowed to see horror movies—for good reason. I was a very scared young boy. I always had to sleep with a light on, and honestly was always a little scared going to bed.
So, after the horror movie, we all fell asleep in their family room. Well, everyone but me of course! I can remember they had this huge bay window the size of their house that looked out into the dark, monster-infested woods behind their house. Laying there by myself, in this house where I’d never slept before, looking through the ginormous window of death, I came as close to a childhood panic attack as I ever had.
OK, so you think this story is normal, right? Here’s where it gets good.
I got up, went upstairs (at like 2am) and knocked on the parents’ bedroom door!!! The dad woke up (I’m sure he was thrilled about this!) and took me downstairs. He made me warm milk (why does that put you to sleep, it seems disgusting to me!) and talked to me for about 10 minutes. All I wanted was for him to call my parents. I was dying inside. I wanted out of that horror house. But he didn’t.
Instead he calmed me down, and went back to bed. Amazingly enough it worked! I fell right asleep. That guy was so nice. I haven’t seen him in years, but if I see him again someday I’m going to thank him.
OK, long post here, but that’s ok, I skipped one. One more story -
So, I believe redemption came to my boyhood “sleepover” traumas when I became a teenager. I met a new friend (he might even be reading right now…Jason?) and one day he invited me to sleep over! Now, sleeping over at Jason’s house was a totally unique experience. His dad walked around in his tiny-whitey underwear constantly; we slept in a virtual cave (it was SO dark!!); it smelled like the in-between of a giant’s toes; we slept with a huge fan next to our heads (even in winter!); huge bugs crawled across my face while sleeping periodically; and…I loved it!
Not sure what it was, but I loved sleeping at their house. And did probably hundreds of times over the years.
And to bring this full circle—I’m actually refurbishing that very room where I spent all those great nights. Life’s funny huh?
So, how were you at sleeping over?
From the earliest days of our lives, we all have learned that one-word, simple but powerful argument that works for all things in life: ”mine!” Whose toy is that? Mine! Who’s turn is it? Mine! Who gets the last piece of cake? Mine!
Maybe later in life the arguments change, but the answer remains the same. Whose money is that? Mine! Whose power is that? Mine! Whose prestige is that? Mine! Who should get the credit for that? Mine! Mine! Mine!
Something I want to do with my blog is to write about spiritual insights I have into my own life. I have a profound love for the truth found in the Bible. One of my favorite things is to read small snippets of the Bible, and “sit down in it.” That’s what I call it anyway. What I mean is to just take some time, and put all else on pause. To figuratively park myself mentally, emotionally, and spiritually inside a passage. Here’s one:
For who makes you different from anyone else? What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not? (1 Corinthians 4:7)
It strikes me that from day one, our drive to possess everything really has very little to do with the possessions themselves, and much more to do with our own identity. And our identity is seldom something we can define standing alone—no—we almost always must use others as comparative measures by which to feel either good or bad about ourselves.
What makes me different from others? Really? Is it my money? Is it my faith? My family? My job? My personality? My material possessions? This passage speaks to me. It says that the pathway to true identity is not through more stuff to call my own, but through freeing myself of that notion all together.
Owning anything, truly owning it (which implies controlling it), is an illusion. I can’t dictate what will happen with my money. Right? Hasn’t the current situation taught us that? I can’t control what happens with my family. I have lived that truth far too poignantly. I can’t even truly possess my gifts and talents. I think I’m a good writer who has written a really good book. Does that make me a best seller? Not even close.
So, this sounds potentially depressing, but I think actually the truth is the opposite. I think it’s liberating. I find freedom in knowing that my goal on this earth is not to amass control and ownership. That all that I “have” has been given to me for a time, and that I am literally living an opportunity. An opportunity to do something great with what I’ve been given.
I find peace in knowing that my identity is not tied to so many “things” but is found in the love of a Creator who saw fit to give all the attributes that make up “me”—whose creativity and love truly know no bounds and are expressed so beautifully in the vast diversity of humanity. I think the answer to the author’s question, “what makes you different?” is God. God makes us different. God makes us unique!
And last I find great joy in the things that no one can truly claim to be their own—relationships. One of the only riches of this earth that I believe we can take with us into eternity. And I find myself, through no great feat of my own, overwhelmingly blessed with friends whose love and support I need everyday.