One of the funny things about being a chaplain resident is that my life is very much intertwined with a piece of 1990s technology. If a member of a medical team wants to contact a chaplain about a patient—especially if it is an immediate concern—they page us. I will hear a chirpy beep, check the number, and call back to see how my assistance is needed.

My initial reaction to that pager was fear. Actually, my initial reaction was amusement. Then as I started my first shift on call, I was anxious. I did not know what was going to be on the other side of that chirpy beep. I just knew that it was not going to be easy and that was scary.

In a weird way, I have come to appreciate the pager because I am required to answer it. It’s my job. I cannot run and hide from it. If a chaplain is needed and I am on call then I have to dial that number. I have to show up in that hospital room to try to listen to the emotions and needs of that patient or family member whether I am ready or not, whether my last visit was deeply meaningful or horribly awkward. You get the page and you show up.

Taking Up Our Cross?

“If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?” - Mark 8:34b-36

This verse is one that is baked into my spiritual journey. If we are to truly follow Jesus then we must take up our crosses. We must be willing to lose our lives. I cannot tell you how many Sunday morning and youth group sermons I have heard about that topic. It was a verse that we remembered and printed on t-shirts. It was our calling.

And I’m not sure if any of us did it.

I am not second guessing the sincerity behind any of the people who have quoted that verse in earnestness (including yours truly), but those stakes do not really present themselves to a white, middle-class American kids. As much as martyrdom was a hot topic for late 90s evangelicals—I owned and regularly perused a copy of Jesus Freaks: Stories of Those Who Stood for Jesus myself—it wasn’t really on the table in South Carolina.

Joshua Tree

Have you ever been in a place so still that peace sinks down into your bones? That is one of my best attempts at describing Joshua Tree National Park. One evening late in our trip, the four of us traveled about a hour from our hotel to arrive at the park before sunset. Our sons were hesitant to go. They were tired and had just spent two days at Disneyland. How could rocks, trees, desert, and sky stand up to Disneyland?

It stood up pretty darn well.

We drove into the park and found an area to pull our car into. We piled out to see trails working their way towards these piles of rocks through brush and these trees-that-weren’t-really-trees with their branches bending in all sorts of Seussical directions. The boys and I scrambled up the rocks until we couldn’t go any higher. We rejoined EA on the ground and took in a land unlike any we’d seen. We took pictures. Then we found another way up the rocks and made our way to the top.

All the while, the setting sun painted the sky in shades of glowing orange, gold, and salmon pink on a canvas of steel blue. And we would just watch. For awhile, we sat on rocks high above the ground. Then we returned to the desert floor and we gazed at the rocks, trees, desert, and sky. My heart rate slows just thinking about that view.

A Very Late, Likely Inadequate Response to the Bullhorn Guy Who Said We Were Heading to Hell for Going to Disneyland

As we joined a throng of people walking from various Anaheim hotels to Disneyland, there was a guy with a sign and a bullhorn. He was…not preaching, but pontificating at every passerby; telling them that they did not need fairies, princesses, and heroes, they needed Jesus. By going to this land of imagination we were being an affront to God. And he informed us that we—hundreds of people he’d never met—were going to hell for partaking in what the Mouse had to offer that day. A few people snapped back at him and he snapped back.

Despite having a litany of reasons for why he was wrong, I didn’t say anything because I am a conflict-averse person and I can’t imagine a worse start for your kids’ day at Disneyland than their dad getting into a theological argument with a stranger when the park is just a few hundred feet away. I reminded our sons that his yelling and condemnation was not what our faith in Jesus was about. Then we went on to have a lovely day at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Yet over a month later, I wonder what I would have said to him had I stopped. Granted, the best means of communication would be a two-way dialogue although people who have a bullhorn are typically not interested in a conversation (which is a pity, because it is actually quite fun to have conversations with people while you are using a bullhorn).

Note to Self for the Next Time You Feel Low and Get "Anti-Hero" Stuck in Your Head

My head was not in a good place this morning. It’s been a long couple of weeks with plenty of fires to put out. I am still a few weeks from beginning a chaplain residency and so I am by myself for large swaths of the day. Plus the start of the school year brings up a lot of emotions concerning what I used to do for a job. So I knew that I needed to go for a walk this morning.

You know what else doesn’t help? Taylor Swift. Not her specifically, but her song “Anti-Hero.” When you are feeling down and lonely, the last thing that you need stuck in your head is a catchy chorus that repeats, “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” It’s not great for someone who is very quick to get down on himself. Really, I need Taylor Swift to write a world-conquering pop song where the chorus goes, “This is just a season and I’m trying the best that I can.” That would be helpful.

For about half a mile, this walk is not helping at all. I’ve got this three second loop of a song stuck in my head and I’m marinating in this stew of self-loathing. Somewhere around Bicentennial Park, I said, “God, I could really use some friggin’ help right now” (and, yes, I did say “friggin’” because I am the human embodiment of a movie edited for TBS).

Wise Donkey

God, as the Divine appears in this passage with Solomon, definitely has a genie/riddle-giving wizard vibe. Obviously whomever wrote Kings did not intend it that way, but that is how I read it. God appears to Solomon in a dream and asks what the king wants.

The TL;DR version (though you ought to read it) has Solomon asking for the wisdom to govern and the ability to discern between good and evil. God responds that since the king asked for this instead of long life, wealth, or the deaths of his enemies that Solomon would be granted wisdom plus the riches and glory. And if Solomon actually utilizes that wisdom then God will grant him long life.

So I have been mulling on wisdom today, which is a super pretentious thing to write. And I kind of hesitate even writing about wisdom because claiming to have wisdom is usually a surefire way to show how lacking one is in that department. So disclaimer: I am sometimes an idiot but these are my thoughts.

Be Angry (But Do Not Sin)

My mind works in strange ways sometimes. I have been to seminary, have an M. Div., am ordained, etc. There are times when I read scripture and I think about the layers of context behind the words. Of civilizations long past and centuries of theological wrestling with the text.

And there are times when I think about a cartoon character. We’ll get to that in a moment.

I have never really been comfortable with the emotion of anger. I don’t know if I internalized the teaching from the Sermon on the Mount that being angry with someone is akin to murder. Or maybe it’s because I am a fairly even-tempered person who was raised to treat others with kindness. All I know is that it has always felt wrong to be angry.

Yet anger is a natural emotion. You cannot avoid it. And honestly if you don’t get angry about certain injustices in the world, then you might come across as uncaring. For example, if a follower of Christ was not angry when a person was dehumanized or treated like crap then what are they even doing? Even Jesus, who preached that line about anger and murder got angry at times so there is obviously more nuance to this whole anger thing.

Peace in the Valley

“I hope I see a bear!” This is what our youngest exclaimed as we wound our way down into the valley on our first evening at Yosemite National Park. His wish was granted ridiculously fast; like so fast that we would have tried to get him to wish for something even more grand using his heretofore unknown power of conjuring.

Before we even parked the car, we noticed that the two cars in front of us had stopped in the middle of the road. EA noticed one of the passengers was pointing at something in the tall grass to the left. I threw the car in park and the car practically tilted as we all looked left. Sure enough, there was a bear about 15 or 20 feet away. He appeared to be a little guy with his head just poking above the grass.

Yosemite Valley is wild. It is like no place that I have ever been before. There are bears and waterfalls throughout. Trees reach to the sky only to be dwarfed by massive rock formations like El Capitan. Words do not do Yosemite any justice. Pictures succeed better, but only by a little. You need to be a speck in the midst of that creation to truly grasp it.

11,096,000,000 Miles

In a single year, the earth makes a 584 million mile journey around the sun. That number staggers the imagination and also provides some perspective. For the person who feels like they never go anywhere, the reality is that they travel over half a billion miles per year. It also let me come up with a fun number to celebrate the incredible woman to whom I have been married for now 19 years.

We have traveled 11 billion 96 million miles around the sun together. You have heard of “I love you to the moon and back”? That’s a 477,800 mile trip, so we are talking about to the moon and back 23,223 times. I’m throwing out these ridiculous numbers because it difficult to convey how much I love and appreciate E. A. Cox.

We have known each other since we were college kids. If you count our time dating, we have been with each other over half of our lives. Surprisingly she is not tired of me (I ask periodically just to make sure) and I have only grown more enamored with her.

Overlooks and Giants

I don’t know about you, but most of the time when I am trying to get from Point A to Point B, I want to get there as quickly and efficiently as I can. I want to take the fastest route. I want everyone to utilize bathroom stops so that we don’t need to needlessly take another one. That’s how I operate even when I walk. My then-girlfriend/now-wife kept encouraging me to slow down by adorably saying “Don’t be Point A to Point B. Be Point EA.”

All of which is why we made an official statement of travel to our boys at the beginning of our roadtrip: We will not let our ultimate destination dictate the day but will allow ourselves the freedom to stop and chase whatever we come across. If there is a beautiful sunset then we are going to pull on the side of the road and enjoy it. If there is an intriguing billboard advertising a destination, we might go see what it’s about. If there is a scenic route, we’ll likely opt for that over the quicker interstate.

This strategy naturally flies in the face of the question that natural law demands every child to ask of their parents: How long until we get there? There was an ETA, but we were holding that ETA loosely.