The man before the miracle

Bet'cha can't go six months of consistent church going and sermon-listening before you'll hear some adaptation and some way of working in the feeding of of the five thousand into a message, if it's not the central theme of the message. It's one of the more popular "go to's". But I got to wondering this morning how often the part just before that admittedly incredible and multi-layered miracle is talked about and thought about. In Matthew, the story of the feeding of five thousand starts in chapter 14 verse 15.

But in that very same chapter, in verse six, Matthew writes about the beheading of John the Baptist. Jesus thought a lot of John. So much so that Jesus not only allows, but insists that John be the one to baptize him. What I'm saying is that John meant an awful lot to Jesus. So as Matthew tells it, the daughter of Herodias gets anything she wants for her birthday. To her credit, she does not ask for a pony or Miley Cyrus tickets, instead she asks for John's head on a platter. Malibu Barbie it ain't. But since Herodias' daughter gets what she wants, John the Baptist is beheaded. Then Jesus is told and he is understandably upset. So much so that he "withdrew by boat to a solitary place" (verse 13). But by this point in Jesus' life he had enough of a paparazzi like crowd that going to a "solitary place" usually didn't last very long. Matthew says the crowds followed him - the poor guy just lost one of his best friends, he's crushed and wants to be alone, and he can't even get a few minutes to mourn. That crowd that chased him down ended up being the five thousand that he fed in the more talked about miracle. But the point is that Jesus wanted...needed alone time. Of course, being Jesus he set aside his need for solitude and helped to feed five thousand people. But he knew he needed to experience the pain instead of shrugging it off with the fact that he had a bigger mission in mind. He's about to save salvation but he's human enough to take time to hurt.

The same thing happens in John's gospel with the resurrection of Lazarus. When word gets to Jesus that Lazarus is sick and it's not looking good, he is told "Lord, the one you love is sick" (John 11:3). Something else bad is about to happen to someone Jesus is awfully fond of. Jesus knows the entire time - from the moment he hears that Lazarus is sick to moment the subsequent miracle is complete - what is going to happen. If I knew the ending of a movie, I'm probably not going to get overly emotional in the middle of it. Not Jesus, he knows how this movie ends, but he gets very emotional. Verse 33 tells us that when Jesus sees Lazarus' sisters Mary and Martha in mourning and hurting that Jesus became "deeply moved in spirit and was troubled." He knows what's about to happen - why he's come there - but he empathizes with Mary and Martha and the surrounding Jews. He doesn't look at them condescendingly and tell them "Hey, I'm Jesus ain't I? What're you crying about you know I got this!" It's not like it was unlike Jesus to take that kind of tone with people, he often showed frustration with the disciples when they're wide angle lense wasn't quite working. But despite that, he is moved with these people. Two verses later, he's moved to the point that he "wept" (verse 35). In verse 38, he became "once more deeply moved". He then raises Lazarus from the dead and the glory of God is witnessed. It was the intention the entire time. But Jesus did not lose his humanity in the process of being a member of the Trinity knowing he was in the middle of a miracle.

Two miracles, maybe the two cornerstone miracles in Jesus' ministry, yet they were flanked by his vulnerable humanity. I took comfort in that this morning when I saw one of my best friend's little girl. She had her hair in pig tails and was quite frankly adorable. After I let the cuteness process fully, the very next thought in my head was the day that my friend Abbie asked her mother to fix her hair for her before school. Abbie was around seven years old and for all I know, she had asked her mother to put it in pigtails too. Abbie grew up in Vermont and there was ice on the road that morning. The hairdo made her mom late for work, she drove over a patch of ice, hit a truck and was killed. For the rest of Abbie's life, according to Abbie, that hair request killed her mother. So when all of that started coming back I had to excuse myself from the sanctuary right about the time the message was about to start. As far as I know, Will didn't preach on either the feeding of the five thousand or the resurrection of Lazarus. But I just had to get out of there for a minute.

Part of me was wondering, "I thought you were over this? You're still affected? You're in Seminary and you don't know by now?" But that's not at all what it was about. Jesus knew and he still needed to get away for a moment...fleeting as it was. Jesus knew and he still wept and was moved with Lazarus' friends and family. So I eventually decided that simply because I miss my friend and wish she hadn't gone through what she went through doesn't mean that I've forgotten about my salvation or have lost faith. Christians are just as entitled to mourn as anyone else. I didn't wallow in this feeling for days and days. I stepped outside, got some air, looked up these two miracles and went on about my day. But just because you're a Christian and you understand and have faith doesn't mean that you shouldn't experience pain. I'm not talking about not having troubles. I'm talking about the people who think that it's a sin to not have a perma-smile regardless of the situation simply because you believe. The difference is you don't want to stay in that "valley" for long, but you are entitled to experience - not deny - your emotions. Jesus clearly did, it's what made him human.

"Come on up for the risin'..."

Someone mentioned to me the other day, "it seems like a long time since y'all have put anything up on your blog." Ok, that's not true. We took a trip and I thought that it's been a long time since we put anything up. And I'm reading this book about story and thought it would make for a better story if someone else suggested I write about our trip. The rest of this will be true and real...promise.

If you're reading this you probably know that Lindsay's crazy go nuts for musicals. Watching them, singing songs from them, being in them, whatever. So in trying to come up with something original and unique for Christmas, a trip to New York and a Broadway show came to mind. Clearly (to me) this was God encouraging me to pursue my wife's heart because volunteering to go to New York City is something I would have never....ever...ever done otherwise. I told Lindsay about a year ago that I would lay down my life for her. Shortly after that, I heard a voice say, "Then why don't you?" So this is was me trying to actually do that.

It was a hit. When she figured out (Christmas morning) where were going, she teared up a little bit. Before we even packed our bags, it was already worth it. We get up there and it takes (literally) 2 1/2 hours to get from the Newark airport to our hotel. Not a great start. The weather started out chilly and turned to brutally, unforgiving-ly cold (wind chill of 2 degrees on Tuesday). We threw our bags in the room and walked a couple of blocks down to Times Square. Good....Lord. I'll be honest, everything I was afraid I wasn't going to like about New York City, was right here. And to be fair, it wasn't the natives. It was the tourists (darn them). Here's my impression of Times Square: one big freakin', continuous billboard. Good thing we did some other stuff while we were there.

The next day we went up to Central Park. To give you some perspective, Central Park is probably bigger than my hometown. Let alone the rest of the city. Anyway, it's huge. We only covered half of it. You really do almost forget (just for a moment) what surrounds you on each side of the park. Then you pick a direction, look up, and see skyscraper after skyscraper and it all comes back to you. After finding as many movie landmarks as we could think of ("When Harry Met Sally"), we headed back to the south end of the city. Next on our sightseeing list was something I was never sure how to feel about seeing.

That is the skeleton of what will be the biggest statement a building has ever made. I wasn't sure what to do. The entire time we had been in the city, before we even crossed the bridge into the state, I kept seeing it happen. "I wonder what it looked like from here?" "I wonder what it was like to stand here and watch it?" "What if you were driving this way and saw it, what would've gone through your mind?" One of my only regrets about going to New York City is that I didn't go (chose not to go) before. I saw it on tv. I still see it in my mind, but I wished I had seen it before, so I could truly understand what's missing. Tollie understands what's missing. He was a volunteer in the memorial museum right across the street from where they stood. By the way, being down there and seeing just how cramped together everything is, how it didn't take out everything in sight, is one of the ways that I know God really was there, even though it's easy to miss Him through it. Anyway, Tollie wasn't there that day. His brother was. Tollie was a fireman and part of the clean-up/recovery effort. He came Friday the 14th. Lindsay told him about her dad and how he was a volunteer fireman back home, and his 60th birthday was coming up. I asked if volunteering in the memorial...museum for lack of a better word...helped. He said it depends on the day. He told us about the one time he was leading a tour. He stopped to point out something on the tour and when he turned, he saw it. He saw the mountain of...think of the worst thing imaginable....that's what it was a mountain of. And the people on the tour stood there and waited, while he went through this flashback. A moment or two later, he resumed. He understands too damn well. Earlier when I mentioned wondering what it looked like from different angles, I can't help but think of one guy who made it out. Who looked up from his work and saw this plane bearing down on him. Part of the wing sliced through his office. I bet there are days he wonders if surviving, trying to sleep with that vision really was a blessing. You move through this museum where there's a time line of that day and the bombing in '93. Then there's a room where they've displayed some of the things recovered. A spoon from one of the restaurants inside, a flier for something, and elevator button, a window to one of the planes. Yeah. There's a window frame to one of the planes on display. Imagine looking out that window, and realizing, it's over. Then in that same room is a fire suit. It is torn down the right shoulder. From the shoulder all the way down to the bottom. That's how the body was found. If you think reading this is graphic, if you think seeing it in a museum is graphic, try being Tollie. Try being in his mind during one of his flashbacks. That's graphic. But it's important. I'm not one of those who thinks you should watch it everyday to remind yourself of the lesson we supposedly learned (and have seemingly totally forgotten-the one about loving each other more). It's important because there are stories to be told. Stories cut short. Stories of amazing survival and miraculous second chances. Stories of unimaginable pain. New York is not a city that is defined by what happened on that day. The day after or the day after. New York is defined by the fact that 10 years later, they're well underway with rebuilding. More than just a building. I shook Tollie's hand as he walked out the door, he remembered to wish my father-in-law a happy upcoming 60th birthday. I thought as he left the room and that particular scene in our lives, "of all the things for him to remember, he remembered that Larry's turning 60 this year. That must've been a nice little escape for him. I hope the rest of his memories become that easy to live with."

When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.

I've been trying to come up with a word to describe her. Joy is the one I keep coming back to. The title of this particular blog is from Psalm 94:19. We were talking earlier today, reflecting back on where we both were when we first met more than three years ago now. Anxiety was running rampant in me. Then comes this 5 foot 2 inch blonde light of joy. I told her at the time we met it was like this triune of perfect events coming together at the perfect time. I finally got out of God's way and let Him go to work on my shattered heart. I met Lindsay, and three days later I leave for Colorado. I talk about that trip, that area a lot. But it really has nothing to do with football, not even the scenery. Sure it's amazing (the scenery, although the football's getting better), but that isn't what draws me there. It's where I feel most whole. But none of those things; God, Lindsay, or the Rockies would've changed me the way they did without the other. I wouldn't have met Lindsay without God's grace. I would've had a much harder time believing Him if I hadn't met her. Colorado would've just been scenic if I hadn't been shown His hand on it. It would've been the only beauty I really believed in if I hadn't met Lindsay.

I guess the reason the word "joy" keeps coming to mind is it's the one word that best describes her to me. She gets such joy from others' joy. You should see her when she finds a present for someone that she thinks is just right. She can't wait to give it to them. We had dinner not long ago with friends of ours who had some really awesome news to share. Lindsay couldn't wait to...celebrate...with them (I have to be vague because we were asked to keep it quiet for now). But it's not just presents and gifts. She has a true interest in me. She loves seeing me excited. Heaven knows how burnt out she must be already with football, but she knows I enjoy it, and she not only puts up with it being on the tv, she's interested and involved. She finds her joy in mine.

She's got her own joy too. She's worked so hard at so many things lately. From a weight loss competition to getting a new job to parts in musicals, she's really been overwhelmed with blessings the last few weeks. And it's so awesome to watch her, in her joy.

I've never seen anything like her. And I've seen a lot of cool stuff. My joy is having her be the first thing I see each morning, and the last thing I see each day. My joy is at the end of the day when she walks in and Sheba jumps up from her 43rd nap of the day to greet her. Most days I'll suddenly have joy fall right into my lap as I sit my chair. Just for a hug. That's my joy. She has seen me at low points. A lot of them. Each time, she makes me feel like going through that and asking for her to help me was the right thing to do. She's not afraid to walk into the fire with me.

When it's our turn, I know her biggest joy will come from a bottle, a blankie, and a bedtime lullaby. I don't know if there's anyone who will love their child with more joy than she will. I don't know that there's ever been a wife that has ever loved a husband with more joy than she already has.

People are drawn to her. In ways that I can completely understand, and wish in so many ways I could duplicate. She is a light. Things are better when she's around. Pain is softened and shortened when she's near. Joy is emphasized and eternal when she's near. I could've survived the last three years without knowing her. Sure. But I don't think that I would have enjoyed them like I have. There's that word again.

We know drama

I took Sheba out for her morning business today. As we were walking to the dumpster a black pit bull came virtually out of nowhere. He walked up slowly and then attacked Sheba. I tried to scare the pit bull off, tried to physically push it off and for a moment, he backed away. By this time Lindsay heard the commotion and I told her to take Sheba inside but the pit bull was attacking again. Sheba broke out of her collar and took off, with the pit bull chasing her. I took after both of them. They both ran off into the woods and I couldn't keep up with them. I can honestly tell you I've never been so scared. There was nothing I could do. I called 911, and I'll be honest, I handeled it horribly. I was screaming at them and panicking. Lindsay had gotten in the car to see if she could drive around and find Sheba in the neighborhood. I called them 911 3 times before I could get something out of them. To spare you some reading and me some typing, they finally sent someone. He coralled the pit bull seemingly pretty easily. Right around that same time Lindsay came back. She said that some people running in the neighborhood had seen a police officer pick Sheba up on Piedmont Parkway, about a mile or so away from us. The officer called Lindsay and brought Sheba back. (I'm tearing up as I write this part) Sheba was fine. We took her to the vet immediately and she has no bite marks, no real wounds at all. She has a little scrape with some blood on one of her toenails of one of her paws, but it's not serious at all. The vet said she has no wounds what so ever. The animal control guy took the pitbull away and said (I think) he'd be in touch with one of us. She's (Sheba) home now.

I've never been so scared and helpless. We don't have kids obviously but this is our baby. And I couldn't stop her from being hurt. The whole time she was missing I thought the worst. I lost my temper with people on the phone, I was just a wreck. Sheba's home and fine. She does have that one little scrape but the vet said she'll be ok and she was hoping around like her normal happy, hyper self at the vets office and when we took her back home. Thing is, in that moment, that moment that was probably 5 minutes but seemed like an hour, I lost my faith. I did not believe that God was there. I did not believe He would take care of her. I didn't even think to pray. I was just scared and mad. Mad at myself, mad at whoever let this dog loose. I immediately went in the back and just praised Him for Sheba's safe return and apologized and repented to Him. I lost my sight in that moment. I'm hoping that He uses this to strengthen me in the midst of the next crisis. And I know it seems kind of silly, but in my heart, this was a crisis. I did not handle this well at all. But my prayer is that when something totally out of my control, sudden and unstobble happens again, that I have the presence of mind to turn to Him. Something I did not do this morning.

Fun with my toy

We bought a laptop recently. And it has all kinds of toys on it. This is one of them. It's my first try...it's got all my favorite things in it. A Dave Matthews Band song, Colorado, a spoiled rotten dog, the ocean, and this cute lil' blonde. Oh yeah, and that frog.

That Garth Brooks is full of it

"Some of God's greatest gifts, are unanswered prayers" says the song. It's a hugely famous song. They're thinking about making a movie out of it. It's going to be on Lifetime so the acting will be horrendous, but still. "You ever think that it's not that the prayer went unanswered, but God just said, 'no'?". My boy Kory said that once. I wish I could take credit for that wisdom. As if God is just going to ignore a prayer. The thought in the song is, "Well, He didn't give me what I want, so He just didn't answer my prayer. Maybe He will when He gets around to it." "God must be busy" says another song. Crap. More crap. I know I'm probably taking country songs too seriously, but it's a dangerous message too many people just seem to go along with.
I've gotten quite used to Him telling me, "No." "No, Marc. I know Paul has six children and you love him deeply. And I know it's going to hurt you as profoundly as anything ever has, but I won't let him survive this accident."
"No, Marc. I know you really like this girl and you don't think it could possibly get any better for you. But trust Me, I've already created your wife. I already know who she is, where you'll go on your first date, and how long it'll take you to meet. Trust me, you're going to love her more than you think you love this girl you're crying over."
"No, Marc. I can't give you this opportunity right now. You're not ready. You think you are, a lot of your friends are telling you'd be really good at it. And you would be. You will be. But you're not ready to take on that burden. Trust me. I do it a lot. But keep trying."
Those are just some of the times He's not only answered a prayer - sure, not the answer I wanted but answered none the less - but came up with a solution. Paul didn't make it out of that motorcycle accident seven years ago this coming Saturday. But I tell you this, God was glorified for at least three days non stop on one of the highest rated radio stations and television stations in this area. It will be hard to convince me there was a better witness than Paul Franklin Fuller, Jr. And when his story on this earth ended, God was praised, God was glorified, God was proclaimed, God was prayed to. On the public airwaves, in places that don't do that. How many people had their curiosity piqued, "what's with this God, this Jesus these guys keep talking about?" Someone got to know Jesus because Paul went to meet Him. Reconciled.
I would be in relationships, they'd fall apart because A)He had Lindsay in mind for me and B)I was a dumpster fire determined to make a relationship work no matter what He had to say. "If I could just get her to like me again, then I'll have everything straight". I had no idea how wrong I was. I didn't factor Him in at all. The first time I do, and look what He gives me. Someone I never imagined big enough to ask for. Reconciled.
In "The Message", Hebrews 11 reads, "It's impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him." You want me to believe that he doesn't take the time to answer a prayer? That's He can't get to it right now because kids are starving in Africa? Like God's not big enough to handle all his voicemails? I'd like to say that I've gotten to the point where I like it when God tells me "no". Because I realize it means He's working in me. He's going to reconcile something in me and the end result is going to glorify him way more than anything I had planned would.
Lindsay and I had been considering something, and it was risky to a degree. Not bungee jumping with suspenders risky but risky still. Once again, my boy Kory says to me, "You think God can't correct your mistake? You think it's either smooth sailing or a disaster and He gives up on you?" (Kory's good. A lot better than Garth) Currently reconciling.
God is totally capable of taking any mistake, any "unexpected" (by us) bump in the road, and come up with the happiest of endings. And He loves me enough to let me take chances, and no matter how reasonable, or seemingly unexplainable they may be, the outcome is not going to be enough to where He shrugs His shoulders, turns around and just walks away sighing deeply. I'm getting kind of used to hearing, "no". And it stings each and every time. The difference is now I understand that He's saying "no" because He's working. Not because He's booked.

What it was like in Chapel Hill

Just like in 2005, I was in the Dean Dome to watch UNC go for a National Championship. Lindsay joined me this year. They open up the arena to the public (for free) and it's first come first serve seating. They set up a big projection screen at halfcourt, and for the title game, they turned on the video screens at the top of the arena. Like I said, we did this in 2005 when they won it all, I think I see a pattern. Anyway, below are photos and videos from championship night. And by the way, can I just say how incredible my wife is? Just four years ago - as she'll tell you herself - she didn't care about basketball, much less get caught up in this mess for the Final Four. And now, she's really brought herself into something that I enjoy, just because she loves me. Man, did God design the perfect wife for me. Anyway, back to the basketball:

Me and Mike D....just before tip off

We're going to need a new one

That's a championship smile

Rushing the floor as the game ended....

....time to move the party to Franklin St

Here are some videos:

Just before tipoff


As the game came to an end


the Franklin Street celebration